The Volunteer

by J B Cantwell

  It took nearly an hour to get back to the base, and as the truck rolled over the wheat field and made its way into the cover of the trees, Ariana killed the lights for the last fifty feet.

  No one would see us get out of the vehicle. And there was nowhere to run.

  Jeremy stayed inside while Ariana got out and opened Alex’s door. She commanded him out and to sit on the ground, and in the distance I saw the shadows of two men coming our way.

  “I don’t understand, Jeremy,” I said quietly. “What happened to you?”

  He smirked. “Nothing happened to me. This has always been the plan.”

  “The plan to what? Arrest us? Did you know that the boat would be attacked, that nearly everyone would die?”

  “No. That was a surprise. But it doesn’t matter; it only made things easier for us.”

  I dropped my gaze, trying to look as demure as I could in the darkness of the truck.

  “But I thought you liked me,” I said.

  He scoffed, but there was a different look in his eye after that. Conflicted. I had hit the nail on the head.

  Ariana opened my door. I hadn’t even noticed her coming around.

  “Get out,” Jeremy said, his face contorting into a mask of anger once again. He cocked his gun to drive the point home. I did as he said.

  But I had a piece of information now that had been missing before. He had liked me. His face admitted it more than words ever could. And it had been unexpected, a nuisance. A weakness.

  I wondered how I could use it. I had never flirted with a boy before. I had been friends with Alex since grade school, but we had been just friends for so long. It had never occurred to me that I might need to flirt with him, or anyone. The very idea was ridiculous to me.

  But now, now I realized that I might have some power in this powerless situation. If I could play Jeremy just right, I might get some answers from him, details he was trying to keep hidden.

  I moved around the back of the truck to sit in the dirt at Alex’s side.

  The men arrived, and I saw it was Fraser, our teacher, and Tanning, the Major.

  Great.

  Fraser walked around and stood before us, his eyes trained on me.

  “So, I guess I wasn’t too far off to try to get rid of you that first day, was I? I never should have let you back into the class. Well, now I’ve got the chance to make up for my mistake. What have you got to say for yourself?”

  I thought about what Alex said, about how I should keep quiet. But sitting on the ground, exposed and at Fraser’s feet, I worried I’d get a kick in the head if I didn’t answer.

  “We were just completing the mission. That was all. This whole thing is a misunderstanding.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  Tanning made his way around and stared Alex down.

  “I expected better of you, Prime Williams. That was my mistake. But I think I know how we can rectify it now. It’ll be back to Fort Jamison for you. We’ll see if we can pump some patriotism back into you.”

  “What?” I said. “No! No way! You’ve done enough to him! You’ve—”

  That kick I’d been waiting for came then, though it was in the shin, not the head.

  Something to be grateful for.

  As I rolled over to the side, groaning and curling into a ball. Tanning went around behind Alex, grabbing him by the arms behind his back and hoisting him up.

  “Your transport awaits, Prime.” He shoved him from behind, and in the distance I heard a motor roar to life.

  “You get up,” Fraser said to me.

  I looked up at him, both scared and insolent.

  “Shall I encourage you more?”

  I sat up, and in the darkness saw Alex being shoved away from me. He turned his head suddenly and shouted out.

  “Don’t forget what we said! In the water! Riley! Don’t—”

  And then Tanning let him walk forward a couple steps and kicked him in the back of the knee. Alex crumpled to the ground, his face hitting hard against the dirt. Fraser spun me around, away from the sight of him struggling to regain his footing.

  “Forget what?” Fraser said. “I wonder.”

  And he grabbed me by the biceps and hoisted me up. Then, turning to call after Tanning and Alex.

  “Good luck, Williams!” he shouted. Then he whispered in my ear. “He’s going to need it.”

  Chapter Ten

  “By the time they’re done with him, he’ll never recognize you again.”

  I was in a closed room with a mirror on one side, Jeremy pacing back and forth before me. An interrogation room. I wondered who was watching from the other side of the glass.

  Maybe just Fraser. Or maybe everyone who ranked above me. Or maybe everyone, every soldier in the place. I would serve as an example to the others. Imagine what lessons they could learn by watching me now.

  My world was swirling around me. I was still dressed in my wetsuit, which had thankfully dried along the drive back, though it left my skin itchy beneath the rough fabric. I could barely think, and Jeremy’s words sounded muffled to my ears, garbled until they lost all meaning. He was talking again, but I wasn’t listening.

  No. They won’t get to Alex. They can’t.

  But I knew this thought wasn’t true. I remembered the way he had been at Fort Jamison before, and then later as we dug our way toward Lake Saint Jean. His eyes had been blank, not a hint of recognition in them for so many weeks. And I felt sure, somehow, that this time I wouldn’t get to see him again. I wouldn’t get to help him remember as I’d done before.

  I suddenly wished I’d told Paul more. He could’ve helped us if I had.

  But what we had told him was probably getting him into deep trouble right this very minute. I wondered if he was being interrogated right now in his own country. Or maybe there were undercover American military men who’d gone to find him. To kill him. Or worse.

  To torture him.

  If they did that, and if he cracked, I was a dead woman.

  But I was a dead woman already. My plans had never really included a method of escape. I had always imagined that I would simply be successful in my mission. But now, as reality set in, that all seemed like nothing more than fantasy. Alex was as good as dead. And me, I wondered what they would do to me now that I was caught. Would it be enough to get me to spill all of my plans? Or would I be strong enough until the very end?

  Fraser opened the door.

  Jeremy stopped talking. I looked up, surprised.

  “I thought this was my job,” he said, not to me. “I talked to Tanning before, and he said …”

  “I don't care what he said. She's not listening to you. You've been in here for an hour, and she hasn't said a word. Get out.”

  Jeremy glared, and it was the first time I looked up at him since they put me in this room. His eyes fell on me, and that impossible emotion, wanting to break me and be with me at the same time, flashed across his face. Finally he looked up at Fraser.

  “Whatever you say, boss."

  There it was. Another little piece of information that I could use if I ever got the chance.

  He wasn’t the one in charge.

  He glanced at me one more time, then walked through the door, slamming it behind him. He was surely on his way back to the viewing room, eager to see what information Fraser would be able to squeeze out of me. Jeremy's threats about Alex had gotten him nowhere. Maybe Fraser would be able to take me to a place that Jeremy had failed to. I braced myself.

  But he didn't talk, at least not right away. He started walking around the room, in front of me at first and then behind me, in a circle that tightened with every pass. He went around and around, and this got my attention. It was so strange and yet threatening at the same time.

  “What are you doing?” I finally asked.

  “Just getting a feel for things."

  My heart began to beat hard. He wasn't armed, as far as I could tell, and yet he was more terrifying than Jeremy could ever be. He had b
een my teacher, my mentor, however brief our time together might have been. Though I had known that he’d hated me from the start.

  It didn't matter now. He had given up the information then that I’d needed to survive, that I would need if I were ever to get out of this place again. An EMP would be impossible unless stolen. Because of him, it was clear to me now that people would have to die, that my mission would not be without blame. I would be a murderer once again.

  If I ever saw the light of day again.

  “So I'm wondering what it is, exactly, that you two have been up to. We know about the Volunteers. Your boyfriend told us all about that. We know about Paul Jacobs. What we don't know is your plan. And you're going to tell me about it now.”

  This time the words were coming through loud and clear.

  This was no Jeremy.

  “I don't know what you want me to say.”

  He stopped walking and turned to me.

  “I think you know exactly what I want you to say. Do I need to help you?”

  From the side of his belt he pulled out a long stick, a baton, just like an officer would carry back in New York. There was no table for him to slam it upon, only me, only my head. I got the distinct impression that he wouldn't ask twice. But I didn't have a story to tell him, at least not a fake one. I tried to calculate in my mind how much time I had left before he hit me with the baton, how much time I had to make something up.

  “Please ask me a question,” I said, stalling. “I need you to be more specific."

  He looked at me for a moment, calculating. I wondered what he already knew.

  “Let's start with the Volunteers,” he finally said. “How did you come to know them?”

  I had to be careful now. If I faltered, even for a moment, I was certain that stick would meet the side of my skull.

  I would tell the truth as much as I could. It was easier to remember than a lie.

  “It was Lydia. Lydia Davis. She had been searching for her brother, but she'd had no luck. She was the one who was involved with the Volunteers, and she invited me to join them.”

  “And why would you do this? Why would you throw away a career in the Service for promises from a known terrorist?”

  “I had no idea she was a terrorist when I met her.”

  I remembered that moment very well. Even now I could feel her fist meeting the side of my face, could feel the spray of her spit as it landed on my skin.

  No. Not a terrorist. She was simply an Orange at that point in time. A dangerous one.

  “And you listened to her, why?”

  I swallowed hard.

  Just be careful. Don't tell him too much.

  “It was because of Alex. I couldn't find him, and when I finally did, he didn't recognize me. She told me she could help me. Back then, that was the only thing that mattered.”

  “And what did she do to help you?”

  I dropped my gaze. “Nothing,” I murmured, my first lie.

  SMACK

  I doubled over with pain. He had hit me on the other shin, not what I was expecting. I gripped my leg with both hands, tears springing to my eyes.

  “You can do better than that,” he said.

  I wondered where he would hit me next.

  “When we were at Lake Saint Jean,” I said between gritted teeth. “It was Hannah Murphy who helped me get to Alex. She and I traded spaces one day while we were digging the tunnels. I was able to talk to him then. Lydia has nothing to do with it.”

  “And yet you told no one. Not the sergeant, not the major, no one.”

  This time tears started falling in earnest. I remembered that first day at the base when my note had fallen right from Alex’s fingers. He hadn't noticed me then. He hadn't noticed anybody. His eyes had simply focused on the head in front of him, and my note fell to the floor beneath his feet.

  “You don't understand," I said. “He was my best friend. We joined the Service together. I never thought I would lose him. I didn't understand the phasing. It scared me.”

  “And yet by not telling anybody, you only dug yourself in deeper. You broke the law.”

  “The law?”

  “Soldier, to disobey orders is to break the law. I admit we did not know about you yet. you were flying under our radar.”

  He moved closer and put each of his hands on the armrests of my chair. His breath smelled like day old mash.

  “But you're not anymore, are you? Keep talking. I want to hear more about Lydia.”

  I struggled to think fast, but my brain felt like mush. I had never been good at lying.

  “Lydia and I … were friends.”

  Just as I had thought Hannah and I were friends.

  “And you wanted to help your friend.”

  “But I didn't. She helped me, but I never helped her.”

  “You did in Edmonton. You refused to leave her behind, putting your entire team in danger.”

  I bristled and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My hands were still cuffed behind my back.

  “I simply allowed her to follow us. And in the end, she went off on her own.”

  “And what happened to her then?”

  “You took her. And then you held a gun to my head so that I would kill her. It was murder.”

  I remembered the way she had stood that day, then kneeled in the dirt. I would never forget the back of that girl’s head. I would never forget the way my finger felt on the trigger as I squeezed it.

  “You were killing a known terrorist. That was part of your duty to the Service. She was a prisoner of war.”

  “Since when does the Service take its own soldiers as prisoners of war?”

  He released the arms of my chair and stood up. He was tall, taller than I remembered. But his sneer hadn't changed one bit.

  I wondered if I was answering his questions the right way. He needed to be satisfied, and I had so much to hide.

  “I can see how you might think of it that way, but you are mistaken. Terrorism is rampant in the Service. People you think you know will prey on you, put you up to things while making false promises. It seems that was a lesson you were slow to learn.”

  I nodded my head, thinking that was the thing he wanted me to do.

  “I want to know what Lydia told you before she died. She was the one who led you to the Volunteers. How?”

  I took a deep breath, thinking hard.

  “She said she would meet me. She gave me an address.”

  Where should I stop? With Jonathan? With Kiyah? Chambers?

  “But she was dead,” I said.

  “And yet you went.”

  “I did. But there was nothing there for me. Nobody identified themselves as Volunteers.” My tears shifted from genuine to fake. “I just wanted a way out. I didn't know where Alex was, and I thought … maybe …”

  “You were a fool.”

  Yes. Easy. Let him draw his own conclusions.

  “I guess I was.”

  He smiled, and I held my breath.

  “I guess that’s beside the point. What I actually want to know,” he whispered, “is where you were on your last break from the Service. How did you spend your time? At separate times we had both Murphy and Williams following you, and yet you slipped through their fingers nearly every time. How is that?”

  I shrugged and looked at the baton, hoping that this small action would not result in another blow.

  Careful.

  “I … I'm not really sure. At first I didn't know they were following me at all. But then I got scared. Why were they coming after me? I had been returning to the recruitment center every night, and yet nobody had said anything to me. I couldn't imagine why—”

  This time he hit me across the jaw. My had flung back with the impact, and I nearly fell to the floor. I distinctly felt a tooth in the left side of my mouth loosen from the force of the baton.

  His voice became softer still.

  “You see, this is where we differ in our opinions about the sequence of events. I think you
knew exactly why they were following you. And I think you had help from the Volunteers to evade them. Now tell me how.”

  I could see blood glinting off the end of his baton. My head was pounding, and my eyesight in my left eye was blurry.

  This was it. This was the end. He would beat me bloody to get the answers he wanted. I wanted to scream at him, spit at him. But I would have no such chance.

  Tell him how. Tell him how. Tell him how.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only a croak came out.

  “I didn't do anything. It ended there.”

  CRACK

  This time underneath my chin. My teeth bit into my tongue, and the copper taste of blood filled my mouth.

  Let him do it. Let him beat you. He wants it.

  And he did. His eyes were starting to glint with excitement, and I couldn’t help but feel he was blood thirsty.

  He knew I’d done more. All there was now was to beat it out of me.

  There had to be another story. Something simple.

  Think.

  Blood trickled from my mouth onto my black wetsuit. I lowered my head, wondering when the next blow would come. When I looked up again, Fraser had raised the baton once more.

  “Wait!” I said. “Wait! I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

  He paused, raising his eyebrows. Successful so soon? It must have surprised him. Disappointed him.

  “We were going to meet. There was this guy, Jonathan, that I met in the diner where Lydia had sent me. He was one of the Volunteers.”

  I spit blood from my mouth onto the floor and tried not to let my speech be gurgled.

  “He told me he could get me out. Me and Alex. I just needed to help him with a plan.”

  I paused.

  “And?”

  “The … the Volunteers were angry. They wanted me to help them attack the citizens of Manhattan. They wanted to get back at them, them and the government. They live in poverty, even worse than in Brooklyn. They had a plan, and they told me that if I helped them, they could remove my chip and send me to Canada.”

  My voice was shaking. More tears. Fear. Anticipation. Pain.

  “But you have to believe me; I didn’t help them. I didn’t want to take any more lives. I already have enough blood on my hands.”