The Child Thief 6: Zero Hour

by Forrest, Bella

  “How could Cloyd say that?” she asked sadly. “He knew how much Jace cared about Kory.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. If I was being honest, I’d tell her that Cloyd was just a big jerk. But he was probably like family to Rhea, so I minced words.

  “Grief can bring out the worst in people sometimes,” I replied.

  Rhea looked away and nodded like she was well aware of that fact. And I realized sadly that she was probably thinking about her own reaction to her brother after their parents passed.

  “For the record, Robin,” she went on, “I don’t feel that way. I’m glad Jace has you.”

  And then she looked back up at me and smiled slightly, with tears in her eyes. I smiled back and then pulled her into a hug.

  “Let’s get back to base,” she said.

  I nodded in agreement. As beautiful as those woods were, they had been slowly growing darker and colder. In more ways than one. Getting back to our tents, and Jace, felt like the right thing to do. Even if Cloyd would also be there.

  We walked back slowly and quietly, staying together in our group. I tried to keep Luka’s warning about bears out of the forefront of my mind, but when a loud and sudden rustling sounded to our left, I quickly convinced myself that we were about to be face-to-face with a bloodthirsty grizzly. Instead, a mule deer gracefully bounded away from us and into the dark cover of the woods.

  I chuckled in spite of myself. It was strange being in such serene surroundings when in reality things were chaotic and scary. And now we were dealing with divisions within our own group. I knew that Cloyd and Jace’s relationship had become tense and chilly for some reason, but now that it had boiled over, I worried about what it meant for our entire operation. Could this sort of thing—this distrust—happen on a larger level? Was the presence of the mole enough to bring this same sort of fear and anxiety out in everyone? Would we all start turning against each other until Little John fell apart?

  My mind was still tumbling with questions when our small tents came into view. I didn’t foresee an easy night of sleep ahead. And, I suddenly realized, I hadn’t gotten the opportunity earlier to tell Jace that I had saved a spot for him in my tent. My heart sank. What if he was lying alone somewhere right now, with no one there to comfort him? What if he was still out walking in those woods trying to clear his mind? Maybe I should’ve fought against my better instincts and stayed right beside him when he left those woods.

  Jackie must’ve seen me scanning the tents anxiously.

  “I’m sure he’s okay,” she offered gently. “He’s a pretty tough guy.”

  I nodded. But tough or not, I wanted to be there for him if he was hurting. And I knew he was hurting.

  The team began to offer their goodnights and slip away into their tents, then, and I walked on alone to the tent farthest from the others, preparing to toss and turn alone for the remainder of the night. But my breath caught when I opened up my tent and found that I wasn’t alone.

  “Jace,” I breathed out in relief.

  The tent was dimly lit by an electric lantern, and Jace was lying in his sleeping bag on his back, his arms behind his head, staring straight up. He looked deep in thought. At my entrance, he slowly looked toward me and forced a half-smile.

  “Hey, Robin,” he said softly. “Hope you don’t mind me bunking with you.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” I replied. And it was true. Jace belonged with me. I had known it from almost the first time I saw him. “But how did you know it was mine?”

  “Because it’s the farthest from the rest of the camp. Reminded me of your old home,” he replied. I smiled at how well he knew me.

  Jace pulled one of his arms out from under his head and patted the sleeping bag beside him. I stumbled slightly as I struggled to get my heavy boots off, but then I was down on the soft ground beside Jace and slipping into my own insulated sleeping bag. I moved to be closer to him and then lay still and quiet.

  Jace broke the silence.

  “Robin, I’m really sorry about what happened,” he said. I turned to look at him. Why would he have anything to be sorry about?

  “I shouldn’t have let him speak to you that way,” he finished.

  I peered over at him, but his eyes were still turned up, looking at the top of the tent.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I replied resolutely. “I know it’s a hard time for all of you. That wasn’t your fault.”

  Jace sighed. “No, it was. I knew something was up with Cloyd. The way he acted around you, the way he started to distance himself from all of us. I should’ve taken the time to address it privately before it spilled out in front of you and everyone else.”

  “Jace,” I tried to start. I needed him to know that this wasn’t his fault and that I was okay. I knew Cloyd didn’t care for me. And while his reasoning did confuse and hurt me, I was a big girl. I was going to be okay. It was Jace I was worried about.

  “Robin, no,” Jace interrupted. “You didn’t deserve that. And I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He suddenly turned to face me, his honey-colored irises swimming under the watery sheen of tears. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked deeply back at him. There was no use in trying to allay his guilt or fears when it came to my well-being. I could see now that he truly loved me, and that he was more hurt about how I had been treated than anything else back in those woods. So, in the absence of words, I did the next best thing.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, softly, but with an undercurrent of hunger and passion so strong that it was hard not to twine my fingers into his hair and pull him on top of me.

  He kissed me back with the same passion that I felt. But all too soon he was pulling away.

  “I love you, Robin,” he said. Then he turned onto his back again. “Sleep well.”

  I lay there achingly. “I love you, too,” I managed.

  But inside, I felt torn and unfulfilled. There was a deep hurt inside of Jace that I would never be able to remedy. That was between Jace and Cloyd.

  And as I turned around to try to fight through my thoughts enough to sleep, I wasn’t convinced it would happen anytime soon.

  Nonetheless, I found it was a lot easier to sleep in Brightbirch than it had been anywhere since I left home, definitely easier than in Edgewood. Soon I was being gently awakened by melodic birdsong all around us.

  Until another, less relaxing sound became obvious: the angry buzzing of my phone against the tarp-like fabric of the tent floor. I picked it up to peer groggily at the bright screen.

  Team meeting. Please come to the administrative building in fifteen minutes. –Corona

  The message took a few moments to sink in. I still wasn’t used to seeing Corona’s name on my phone. But my confusion quickly turned to action when it sank in.

  It was finally time to discuss next steps. I looked back at Jace just in time to see him reading a message on his phone.

  “Corona?” I asked him hopefully. Corona’s directive to “come alone” the day before had left a bad taste in my mouth after it ended so poorly. So I was hoping that everything we did moving forward, we did as a team.

  But Jace didn’t even have to respond. I could see the answer in how his eyes suddenly focused and how his body language changed to reflect strength and action. He had been waiting for this, too.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  We stepped out of our tent at the same time as many of our team members. With a few quick glances at each other, we saw that we were all on the same page. It was time to get some answers.

  “Please tell me we at least have time for breakfast,” Gabby playfully whined, placing a hand to her stomach.

  We walked in a group to one of the quaint wooden picnic tables scattered throughout the camp. It was early enough that a Brightbirch team was still laying out food as we approached.

  “Hope you guys are hungry today!” a kindly older man said as he set out baskets of fruit.

  “This
is the best food I’ve ever had!” Abe replied. “We’d eat even if we weren’t hungry.”

  The older man smiled. “It’s the air and the soil and the sunshine of this place,” he said. “Makes everything taste better, like it used to.”

  Like it used to. I looked hard at the man. He was old enough to have known a life before the regime, before the pollution that came with the money-grabbing surge in factories and the deregulation of clean air laws. And I had been adopted as a baby by a wealthy family, so I knew that type of luxury, too. But many of the people in Brightbirch probably hadn’t ever experienced clean, fresh food until they came here. And while that was amazing for us, it bothered me deeply to know that there were still so many people who were surviving on Nurmeal alone. I wanted to change that.

  I was ready to continue this fight. It was time to band together and end this.

  With a ripe red apple in hand, I started toward the administrative building with the rest of the team. We walked briskly and with purpose, reaching Fiora’s office building quickly. I passed the familiar wrought iron fence and fountain, stepped up to the front door, and pushed my way inside.

  The rest of the team looked slightly perplexed as we entered, but I knew exactly where to go. They followed me up the stairs and into Fiora’s plush, exotic office.

  I was immediately struck by how full the room was. It looked like anyone and everyone who had been involved in the Helping Hands mission—and survived—was crammed into the office together. Zion and Alexy had beaten us here, having arrived with their respective teams. Sy and Bridge were speaking in a corner of the room beside the snoozing macaw. Cloyd was here as well, standing among the combat team with a darkened look on his face. Corona, Nathan, and Fiora were in the center of it all, speaking in a tight circle at the head of the desk. Team Hood pushed into the room just in time.

  As the room started to shush itself and await the address from Nathan, I stared at him intently. He looked as reclusive as he had the day before. Something inside of him had broken with the attack on Edgewood and Piper’s death. There was no denying it.

  It was Corona whose presence suddenly commanded silence and attention as she clasped her hands in front of her and straightened up, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin to look over the room at all of us.

  “Edgewood teams,” she began in a strong and sure voice. “It’s time to talk business again.”

  9

  A vibratory hum rang through the crowd when Corona called the meeting to order.

  “We’ve called you here together to discuss our latest mission into the Helping Hands detention center. And”—she paused, the first flicker of uncertainty passing across her face since I had spoken to her the day before—“to go over some updates on our bases.”

  I watched her intently as she spoke. Nathan was standing behind her, his expression faraway but otherwise blank, like he was wrapped up in his own thoughts. Fiora was standing on the other side of Corona with the trace of a hospitable smile on her face. She looked like she understood the gravity of the situation but wanted to put us at ease. It struck me that she would make a very good, if slightly eccentric, grandmother. As I looked them over, Corona was suddenly interrupted.

  “Are we finally going to get confirmation about what happened during the Edgewood attack?” a male voice rang out. I looked around to see Zion staring down a young combat team member who was standing with balled fists.

  “Stand down,” Zion growled at the man.

  “But don’t we deserve answers?” another man asked from the huddle of the flight team.

  “Yeah, and not just random rumors about some sort of traitor,” a woman said.

  The room erupted into angry and tense conversation as team leaders tried to rein in their subordinates. But when Corona held a pale, long-fingered hand aloft, the room silenced again.

  “You deserve answers,” Corona said. “That is true. And you will get them. But first we are going to discuss our most recent mission.”

  “That’s not important! It can wait,” the young man from the combat team spat out.

  Zion looked like he was primed to come to blows with the man as he began to stride angrily toward him. But Jace’s voice rang out instead.

  “Our friend lost his life on that mission,” Jace said strongly, staring at the combat member. “So for some of us, it’s pretty important.”

  Zion stopped in his tracks and, with the rest of the room, looked at Jace. But Jace’s eyes never strayed from the young man he had been speaking to. The combat member dropped his eyes to the ground and went quiet.

  “Thank you, Jace,” Corona continued. “No one is denying that there are serious concerns that need to be addressed regarding Little John’s bases. But this is important, also, and we need to discuss it.”

  Jace looked at Corona and nodded silently, and she went on.

  “Our knowledge that the government and Helping Hands are working together on this is due in no small part to the tech teams and their tireless work on Artemis. So first I’d like to offer a special thank you to those parties,” she said.

  We applauded lightly in a show of appreciation to the tech teams, and I looked over at Nelson and Gabby in particular as I clapped. The girls positively beamed with pride.

  “Of course, we’d be remiss not to thank our ground team as well. Unfortunately, one person did not return,” Corona said.

  I felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill over the rims of my eyes at this reminder of Kory.

  “In his absence, we nevertheless thank Kory for his selfless sacrifice,” Corona said. “And we vow to continue in his memory.”

  Jace cleared his throat, fighting back tears, and I looked ahead to see Cloyd shifting on his feet, his eyes downcast.

  “But we were fortunate to have one of our volunteers return safely. And so, Robin, we thank you for your service,” Corona said, looking at me warmly.

  A roar of applause rang out, and I looked around the room dumbly, realizing that everyone was looking at me. Jace applauded and smiled at me, choking down his personal sadness to show me support. Even Nathan’s face was graced with the hint of a paternal smile. Cloyd clapped halfheartedly, still looking at the ground.

  After the applause tapered off for a second time, Corona went on.

  “As you all know, the mission to the detention center was planned to discover what Helping Hands was. And, thanks to the bravery and sacrifice of all of our teams, we think we now know. Helping Hands, with help from the government, is rolling out a new workforce of lobotomized persons.”

  Another smattering of voices filled the room. This was the first time that the details of my conversation with Nathan had been made public knowledge. I briefly thought back to the horror of seeing a surgeon wielding crude, sharp tools over a man strapped onto a gurney, and I shut my eyes tightly to try to rid myself of the image.

  When Corona held her hand up, the room instantly went quiet again.

  “I know that this news is distressing. Nathan, Fiora, and I were similarly disturbed to hear of this development. A positive to this, if it is possible, is that this program seems to be relatively new, and so a minimal number of people have been fed into this awful machine so far,” Corona said. “However, even one person is too many. And we have since learned that the operation is expanding.”

  I furrowed my brow in thought. Where were Nathan and Corona learning new things about Operation Guidance? Was this new intel from the Artemis Protocol?

  “It seems that the detention center we infiltrated was likely a test run for the government. Because we know now that the regime is already in the process of building new holding centers in other parts of the country. Helping Hands is being expanded to provide welfare services in additional factory towns. And that means that many more people will fall victim to this horrible procedure,” Corona continued, her words sounding dark and heavy.

  A long pause followed this revelation. Edgewood team members stared at Corona and Nathan
or looked anxiously at one another. No one spoke. What was Corona getting at by sharing this information with us? Granted, I was happy to receive it. The news made me feel terribly concerned about the state of lower-class citizens, even more so than I already had, but I was glad to have more information about the mission that had cost us so much. But what were we supposed to do with this information?

  “That’s all I’ll say for now. Until we’re ready to discuss next steps,” Corona finished.

  It felt like a punch to the gut. I was hoping we’d be called together to discuss a plan, even if that plan was in the preliminary stages.

  “What about Edgewood?” a female medic asked.

  All eyes turned back to Corona as we awaited her answer.

  “I’m sure at this point you’ve all heard the rumors about a mole betraying us,” she said.

  I looked around the room. No one looked too surprised by this statement, and so it was safe to assume that she was correct.

  “Unfortunately, we do think that is exactly what happened,” Corona continued.

  Another anxious babble rose from the crowd. Although I had already heard this information directly from Nathan, many team members were likely having this suspicion confirmed for the first time—and if they were anything like me, that news was causing severe distress and anxiety.

  Or, if they were like Nathan, maybe it was shaking their very belief in our organization as a whole. I still had faith in Little John, but I got the distinct impression that Nathan was feeling like the mole was indicative of a changing tide within our group. Why else would he have become so withdrawn after the Edgewood attack?

  “What are we going to do about it?” Bridge, the lead medic, asked.

  His question might have been directed at Nathan or Corona, but no one else in the office seemed to care. Because suddenly many people were suggesting things and asking additional questions at once, even shouting over each other.