I sleep late. By the time I am awake and dressed, the camp is in full motion. People have returned to the fields, and the sun is bright. It's almost like the attack and the near miss with the RFA never happened. The only thing that tells me I did not imagine it is the screams I hear when I am alone.
I avoid the medical tent, not wanting to see Gib, and decide to go hunting. It is only then that I remember Angela's edict. No one is allowed outside. I stop in front of the door and think about it for a moment. There are no guards now that the RFA has gone home. No one can stop me. I put my hand out and just as immediately pull it back. I have no way of knowing if there are drones still searching for survivors of the attack. My ignorance could get others killed. I can't take the risk.
I swear at the thought of spending all day trapped in the camp. I like that I'm able to go outside the shield and forage. It's my favorite part of camp. But I'm not willing to get anyone hurt because of my desire. I will just have to be patient and wait for the drama to die down.
I go back to my tent and look through my bag for something to do that doesn't mean seeing Angela in the fields or Gib in the tents. I catch sight of my handkerchief and remember the flowers. I unravel the fabric and look at them for a minute. The petals have shrunken somewhat with their stay in my bag, but the flowers look as vivid as when I plucked them. I remember Devlin describing the flowers to me. He had claimed they were special. He's the best herbalist in camp. I have faith in his abilities.
I tentatively take a small bite of the velvety flower to test the taste and instantly feel bile rise up in my throat. My vision swims, and my head grows heavy. I begin to see things that are not possible. The walls bend and twist, and skeletal faces move in front of me alarmingly. Colors shift and blend together before separating again. The colors are dancing. I'm dancing with them. I want to move. I try, but I end up falling backwards. I hit my bedroll, the flower still in my hand, and watch in a daze as the colors, shapes and faces swirl around me.
The next thing I am aware of is Max's hand on my shoulder. I don't know if I have slept. I have no sense of time. It takes a lot of effort to bring his face into focus. I feel groggy and like someone has taken a big stick and swirled my brain around before shoving it back into my head.
"What's wrong with you?" he asks. "Get up! This is important!"
"What?" I ask weakly.
"Didn't you hear me?" he demands.
"No," I say.
"Riley and that rebel who tried to shoot us have left camp. No one knows where they are."
His words have my immediate attention. I know two things: Riley has long harbored a desire to see town, and Gib is not above using that desire to escape. The shield is programmed to only let people in and out that Angela approves of first. He couldn't get through the shield without one of us. Riley is the most willing to help him leave.
I swear. I should have realized he would use her. My stomach clenches at the thought. Did he use her to get out of the shield and then kill her for her help? He's a violent man. I can't put anything past him.
"Did you search the woods? Did you check along the road?" I ask.
"Of course. We're not idiots. The trail went cold at the road."
I stand, my head swimming alarmingly in response, and then push back the flap on my tent. I step outside and am surprised to see that it's early morning. I have been inside for a full day. I blink several times in surprise and try to figure out where I'm needed the most. I should be chasing Riley. I feel responsible for her fate. If only I had thought of a better way to warn her. If only I hadn't eaten the flower. She would have told me her plan had I been around, and I could have stopped her.
"I'm sure she's fine. Devlin is searching for them," Max adds, stepping out of the tent and around me. "But Angela is frantic."
"What does Angela think of Gib's escape?" I ask.
"Gib?"
"The rebel guy," I explain impatiently.
"She's not really worried about it," he says. "She's more concerned about Riley ending up in the city and thrown into prison...or worse."
"What was she thinking?!" I rage angrily.
"That she wants to see the city," Max says. "She's been talking about it for as long as we've known her."
"But to go with him...To go now..." I say.
"Devlin will catch her," Max decides. "But I thought you should know. I didn't want you to find out from anyone else."
"We need to move camp," I say.
"Angela hasn't decided what to do yet," Max replies.
"There's no way we can trust Gib with our location. We have to move," I reply. "It's too dangerous to stay here."
I grab his sleeve and pull him with me as I run to Angela's tent. Unlike the other tents, it's quite large and is made of water resistant fabric. It doesn't leak like my tent does or groan with the wind. I scratch on the exterior and the flap is instantly thrown back. Gerald stares back at me for a moment. His eyes fill with rage.
"Did you have something to do with this?" he demands.
"What?" I ask in confusion.
"Riley!" he roars at me, raising a hand.
I take a step back and feel my body respond defensively. Max doesn't give me the option to fight. He steps in front of me. "She tried to warn Riley away from Gib," Max says. "It's not her fault that Riley didn't listen. There's no need to get angry at her."
Gerald lowers his hand as Angela comes to the door. She has tears in her eyes. "Why has she done this? Where is she? Is she alive?"
I stare at her helplessly. I have no idea how to answer her. Riley didn't tell me anything. Angela realizes this, though it doesn't make her happy. She shakes her head in disgust and starts to turn away.
"We have to move camp," I blurt out.
Angela turns back to me slowly. She's frowning, and her body radiates with dislike and disdain. All of the motherly concern and the pity for the fact that my parents are dead are gone. I am no longer on her favorite list. I don't really care. I just want her to understand the urgency in my chest.
"Why?" she asks.
"Gib," I say. "He's out there now. He could be anywhere. He can bring anyone back here. We're not safe."
"The rebels won't attack us," Angela says, lifting her chin confidently. How have I never seen her arrogance before? How did I miss it?
"How do you know?" I ask.
She looks at me haughtily. She does not like my questions. "Because I gave him the catchphrase the rebels use to identify one another. He thinks I'm an ally. They won't attack us."
I stare at her. She thinks a catchphrase will keep us safe? She thinks the rebels won't be interested in a shield that keeps us entirely hidden from prying eyes? They'll kill for such technology. It's not common tech. It's worth a lot.
"Not even to get their hands on the shield?" I ask.
Angela is tired of my questions. No one talks back to her, except for Devlin. They're all afraid she'll kick them out of camp, even if she doesn't often make threats. "Don't you think you've done enough?" Angela asks.
I don't know what she means, or if she's really blaming me for Riley's disappearance, but I can tell that she's not willing to listen to reason. She's the wrong person to talk to. I need someone else. I need Devlin. But Max had said he was gone. Leslie is the next best choice. People listen to her.
I spin on my heels, ignoring Angela's question, and march to the medical tent. Leslie is sitting on Gib's bed. She holds her head as though she's been hit again. I know it's just because she's thinking of the situation. She looks up wearily when she sees us.
"You've heard?" she asks me.
I nod mutely and feel some of my panic at Riley's disappearance return. It's easy to feel afraid looking into Leslie's eyes. She thinks that something bad has happened to Riley. She does not trust Gib either.
She does not try to comfort me as Max did. She knows such words will not do us any good or bring back Riley. I am grateful to her for it.
"I tried to tell Angela that we should move, but s
he won't listen," I tell her. "She thinks Gib won't hurt us because she gave him that ridiculous password."
"I remember," Leslie says.
"You think it'll really keep Gib from returning with an army?" I ask.
"I have no idea," Leslie says. "But I do know that you will never convince Angela of the truth. She's going to blame you for Riley running away."
I know that already.
"Why me?" I ask.
"Because it's easier to hate you when she's so worried and you're so..." She searches for the right word but doesn't find it.
"Parentless?" Max questions.
Leslie slowly nods. "She can bully you easier than some of the others. She knows it, and she'll take advantage of it until Riley is found."
"I never knew..." I start to say. I hesitate. I don't want to sound disrespectful or ungrateful. Angela didn't have to use the shield to protect us. She could have kept it to herself. I can't forget her generosity.
"What?" Leslie asks.
"I didn't know that Angela was so...weak."
"We knew it in the war," Leslie says. "But your parents kept her around for her affinity for building and maintaining tech. We needed people like her. They were in short supply. Still are, really. The government has all the best people on their side. And now she has the shield and all the power, God help us."
"What can we do?" I ask.
"Leave the camp and take your chances on the outside or stay," Leslies replies simply.
There's no hint to her voice of what she thinks I should do. She's back to stating fact. It strikes me as odd that she's being so careful around me. There's no reason for it. I have no power. It's like she doesn't want to sway my choice. I suddenly don't know what to do. I don't want to pick the wrong thing. I know in my heart that I will go wherever Max goes. I look at him. He looks back at me with pursed lips.
"We'll stay for now. If Gib comes back, they need someone here who is ready for the attack," he decides.
He's right. We might be entirely unqualified, but we're all the camp is going to get. We're the only ones willing to think Gib can return. I nod at him and he sighs grimly. I don't know if staying is an act of courage or an act of fear. Neither of us know how to live outside of the camp. It is all we've ever known. Are we justified in staying? The truth is too clouded by our emotions.
"Are you okay?" Leslie asks me, finally looking me full in the face.
The effects of the flower are still on my face. The sparks of color still dance in the background of my mind. It's not totally out of my system. I don't know if it'll ever fully leave me.
"I ate a flower," I say.
"A flower?" she repeats.
"It made everything dance," I say.
Leslie smiles at me wickedly. "I ate a flower like that once. I wouldn't do it again unless you know it won't kill you."
I nod emphatically and she sighs, losing her smile. I know where her thoughts have gone. They're back to Riley. Mine are in the same place. If Gib really takes her to the city, will he involve her in the rebellion? Will he get her killed? Is she dead already?
Max places his hand on my shoulder to comfort me and some of my dread drifts away at the touch. I can't worry about her. She made her choice. I tried to warn her and she didn't listen to me. It's not my fault. I can't control other people. There's no way I could have stopped her.
I turn away from Leslie and follow Max outside. He keeps his hand on my shoulder; he knows it's the only thing keeping me from wallowing in self-loathing and guilt. We walk away from the tent. It takes me a minute to realize he is headed for the door to the shield.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Let's go hunt," he says.
"We're not allowed out," I reply.
"Who's going to stop us?" he asks.
He has a point, but I've forgotten my bag and knife. I run back to get them and rejoin him at the door. His rifle is slung over his shoulder and his hair is tousled and wild. He's eager to be doing something useful after the past three days of tension and uncertainty. He's ready for things to return to normal.
I'm convinced things will never be the same. Riley is gone. She didn't just abandon her family. She left me as well. She's either dead or plans on never returning. I can't see her coming back. I've lost my best friend.
The sadness slowing me down, I follow Max into the forest.
Our hunt takes us south. We both know it's harder to navigate the southern part of the forest, as it's very dense, but neither of us complain. We're glad to be out of the camp and doing something productive far away from the fight. I forage for wild mushrooms and plants, though I avoid picking flowers, and Max tracks a large herd of deer. I stop foraging as we get closer to the tracks. The idea of fresh meat is enticing. If we can bag a deer or two, I won't have to eat the food packs for a month.
Then we spot the herd. There are six deer on the ridge below us. They're grazing, their little mouths picking at the bushes slowly. Their tails twitch often as they ward off bugs, and they keep raising their heads to look around. Though there are not many hunters in the woods, they are careful creatures.
We lay down on a bed of leaves and I carefully take note of the wind for Max. Max sets up his shot and takes aim as I feed him direction and speed. He sucks in a deep breath and holds it. He squeezes the trigger. A deer falls. The others take off running. Max quickly lines up another shot. A second one falls. The rest have disappeared into a clump of bushes. Max whoops with excitement. I laugh at his excitement.
We skid and slide down the hill and check his kills. The deer are dead. I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't like it when they suffer. I like the kills to be clean. Max and I have learned to aim carefully. Max gathers the legs of the larger deer together and looks at me. I know what he's asking. He wants to know if I'm able to carry the smaller one back. I test its weight. It won't be easy, but I know I can handle the weight if it means feeding the others.
Max helps me put the deer on my shoulders and then picks his up casually. He carries it like he has always had such weight on his back. Despite his complacent expression, there's sweat at his temples. It's going to be a long walk home, and the light is rapidly fading. We've been hunting all day.
The last traces of light are fading from the world when we finally reach camp again. I have to stop several times to rest my shoulders and legs. Everything hurts. Max is teasing me about my inability to walk a straight line when we hear something that sounds like a high-pitched whistle. We share a confused look, then the trees in the distance explode. The fire and heat that pushes its way outwards is terrifying and strangely mesmerizing. I have never seen anything like it.
I drop my deer as I realize that the fire is coming from camp. Someone is bombing it. The shield has a layer of protection, but it cannot stand up to missiles. The people inside will die. Another whistle streaks through the air. I hear yelling. More yelling. The screams of the dying. I want to cover my ears. I know I can't. It won't make it stop. I have to help them. I have to get to them and lead them to an escape.
I run toward the explosions, my mind focused on camp and the people who need my help. The forest explodes a third time as another whistle streaks through the air. Max grabs me around the middle and pulls me back. I fight against him, but he's expertly pinned me to his body.
"Let me go!" I yell.
"They're already dead!" he yells back. "We have to run!"
He pulls me away from the fire and the explosions. I continue to fight against him, my mind focused on the sounds of agony I hear from the camp, but he's stronger. And I can't bring myself to hit him for real.
We're ten feet from where he grabbed me when we hear another whistle. This one is closer than the others. It's closing in on us. There is a thud, then a whoosh, and I lose all track of the present as I am thrown back and away from Max with a dry surge of incredible, awe-inspiring heat.
Chapter 7
Controllers (Book 1) Page 6