by Logan Keys
Tommy
I’m hiding my grin. Liza’s over there stuffing her face, not worried in the slightest while every angry face in the room is pointed in her direction.
When she’s done, she turns and, into the silence, asks loudly where the bathroom is.
After she leaves, Sergeant Major Ryker gives me a pointed look. “You don’t think they planted her next to you on the island, that she isn’t a pawn? Frail-looking, small—just the right type to make a soldier like you feel responsible.”
Word travels fast. They all knew my quickly transcribed story to intelligence before being released from the hospital—I’d found Liza, omitted the part about her being EVE, but had truthfully said she was a Special. I told Nolan that part on purpose. I wanted them to appreciate her for more than just being a civilian.
“Hatter?” Ryker, the man who’s been assigned to make me see things clearly, frowns hard across the table. “This doesn’t feel right. They might have left one of their guards next to you. You fell for their trap, led her right to us.”
Ryker’s older than almost everyone, with more scars than skin—obviously, he’d been hit with shrapnel on every inch—and I imagine them long after I’d been taken hostage, continuing to battle for this spot of land right here, wrenching it from the Authority, with this rugged man at the helm of it all.
But when he says these things about Liza … I want to beat the brakes off this guy. “She’s not a guard.”
My jaw ticks. Ryker leans back to share a look with the military police officer to his left.
“What are our capabilities here?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
He doesn’t want to take the bait, but out of courtesy answers me, the guest. “Anything, everything. We have our fleet of ships in Hawaii, which, by the way, is almost overflowing with military personnel from every country you can imagine. They go out and come back with more every day.”
“More?”
Ryker nods reluctantly, letting go of the previous conversation. “Fort Canton has a barracks here for international military who’ve joined the Underground. All of our artillery is here, and we have three times the soldiers. You have no idea how far we’ve come or why we need to be so careful now.”
I don’t miss his pointed look over my shoulder.
But he’s captured my attention. “You mean … we might have a shot at this? At Anthem? Have we finally been able to get a count on the Authority’s forces? I know before, when we were in Sweden, we’d only had wild guesses.”
He quiets in case Liza returns. “They’ve only sent out small dispatches but, word is, they’ve gotten immeasurable.”
This deflates my excitement. For a moment, I’d pictured a different end to this war, one where I could actually walk through those giant walls as a free citizen. “You sound worried,” I say.
“I am. They haven’t sent out a full force because they must be gearing up for something big, or…”
I frown. “Or waiting for word from their spy?”
Dammit. Just thinking about them arresting Liza makes me sweat in my seat. Reality’s already brought on a bout of queasiness. Is this their plan? Not dinner, but taking her away to be questioned?
Ryker guesses my thoughts. “You’ve known her, what, a year? That’s no time to truly know someone. Let’s be reasonable—”
“Less than that amount of time. But Liza’s not a spy.”
“Hatter—”
Panic makes me stand up, cutting off the major. Where is she? Has she been gone long?
“Excuse me, I think we should be going.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Liza
I hide my face during the exchange at the table, hovering in the shadows. With my stomach full and our time at the hospital ended, I suddenly feel the tide change as Tommy rejoins his “flock” of army sheep. All these are aboard one ship but me. And I’m not just in the water, I’m in the undertow.
How can I ask him to stick with me?
Everyone watches me like any moment I’ll show my true colors. And maybe I will. They all know I stabbed their wonder boy, and saying it was an accident hasn’t assuaged any fears. Even though Tommy saw me imprisoned, they feel I was gestating, building up to something more, only to turn on him, on them all, and now paranoia’s beginning to set in.
Is it my inherent fate to suddenly betray the person closest to me?
I shake off the thought. In this time of the unmanageable, here and now becomes your master. I let it call me to heel. What was weeks turned into surviving the day and today is all that needs surviving. What was a day turned into this hour, and surrounded by a fortress appearing from the black inky water, it all shrunk down to this moment.
Here, these walled-in people have begun to do normal things, have normal places, and I suppose, even with their buildings, doctors, grocery stores, they remain a suspicious population.
I take an empty hallway, away from the dirty glances and whispered conversation. With one foot in front of the other upward into the second story, my anxiety lessens with distance. This house, it was a lovely—is a lovely—house, but something’s missing. Photos, knick-knacks; all of the things we saw in the homes out in the Wilds, although those do have much deader hosts than this one, but friendlier—the way that dead people can no longer judge you.
The bathroom has one towel and a see-through shower curtain. Working plumbing is a nicety I didn’t know I missed until I flushed. I avoid the mirror; vanity seems time-wasting, and the girl looking back will probably be afraid—terrified, even—because this place, and everyone in it, blames her for the universal woes of their people.
The door creaks loudly when I open it but the hallway’s no longer empty. A man stands there who’d been introduced as some regular name like John, or Larry, or Craig, but I remember him from the hospital. Bradford.
He smirks and blocks my path. “Hey there. Snooping around already, I see.”
Pinching the side of my mouth into a half-frown, I try to pass. He doesn’t let me, so I wait patiently for him to reveal what more I can offer.
“You know”—his voice is thick and gritty—“I visited Anthem a while back.”
Anthem. The name rolls off his tongue like a dirty word, as if it’s vulgar and thrills him as much as irks to use it.
“They’d been so sad, those losers, all marching to the tune of that idiot leader. And for what? Some bread? Some walls? A pot to piss in?”
Anthem. Grey. Downtrodden. Bloody.
Memories fill me like a balloon before flying away. I try to grab ahold of them, but Bradford brushes a hand over his buzz cut and laughs to himself.
Silence keeps us company a moment before he grabs me, and I don’t even have time to react. Bradford’s hand is just that quick, snagging my arm in a bruising grip, slamming me against the wall, his big teeth clacking inches from my face. He growls, throws me against the bathroom wall again, and then again, before kicking the door closed behind us.
I freeze up, so shocked by his violence, and I embarrassingly cower, whimpering in pain when my back catches against the edge of the towel rack.
As fire blossoms through my arms, I try to cry out for help, when his hand moves to my mouth, catching the sound.
I loudly suck in air through my nostrils, panicking, and scratch at his muscular forearms. But he’s got me pinned, and he’s spitting crazy talk, eyes large and dilated.
“I’m gonna give you the chance to spill your guts, figuratively, before I beat you, until they spew out of your orifices, literally.” He doesn’t move his hand, so I can’t answer. “I know the Authority programs their guards, and they do it by making damned sure the programming sticks until just the right time. You might not even be aware of how sick and deadly you are to those fine folks downstairs, but I am.”
I fight the doubt creeping through my brain.
“Tell me, did they purge you? Lie to me, and I’ll make it worse.”
Then Bradford realizes my dilemma: even if I was
a spy, I couldn’t peep a word with his hand pressed so hard to my mouth. “I’m gonna let go and you’d better start talking. If you scream, I’ll make you regret it. Nod yes if you understand.”
I manage an up and down jerk of my chin.
He releases me, and I huff and puff, trying to regain oxygen.
The knock at the door interrupting my reply is specific—two knocks, and then a third purposely thudding. Bradford turns, opens the door to let in the muscular woman who’d commented before on my getting Tommy a plate. Her uniform is also marked with MP status, and her nametag reads “Wise.”
“Have you noticed it?” Bradford asks her, and she nods. She looks over at me, but ultimately trains her eyes on her boss.
“This one’s as guilty as sin,” he says. “I know a brainwashed minion of the Authority when I see one.”
Wise smirks. “She follows him around like a lap dog. Is she aware, do you think?” she asks, like I’m not in the room.
“I’m just about to find out.”
“Maybe there’s a trigger?” she says excitedly, a dangerous gleam in her eye.
Bradford shrugs, and he pinches my arms tighter. “If so, it’s tied to Hatter. She broke at some point and is in the guilt phase. She’s focused on Hatter, so he must be the one who’s gonna set her off.”
Wise raises her brows. “You think he’s been compromised, too?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“Not sure. Probably,” Bradford replies.
This seems important. If Tommy’s compromised, then what? I don’t ask. They don’t care what I want to know.
They think the Authority’s “purged” me, made me into a spy without my knowledge. When they finally turn on me, I know I’ll have to give some kind of answer, but instead, the door opens to a man who stares at us in surprise. “I didn’t realize the bathroom was having its own party.” His keen eyes narrow on my face. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
Bradford bristles, obviously not a friend of the new guy, who enters the bathroom, crowding it further. “I think the lady, our guest, is ready to leave.”
They reluctantly let me go.
More MPs wait in the hallway, so I take a sharp right into a bedroom, heart still beating fast.
I try the window, but lack of use made the wood swollen and stuck.
I scan my surroundings. This room is like entering a world of frills and doilies. A little girl who loved blue must have stayed in here. Takes me a moment to notice the frail woman in the shadows, lying on the bed, facing the wall. Her back’s the shape of a question mark.
And she’s crying.
“I’m not going down there, Bernard. Those poor people here to be gawked at, treated like enemies. They’ve done no—”
She turns, rising, to realize I’m not Bernard. “Oh,” her mouth huffs out.
“I’m sorry,” I say, moving to leave.
She watches me for a moment, then her face, deeply cracked by age, far before it should be, softens into a smile. Not too long ago, this woman had been a real beauty; she’s stunning, even with her wrinkles.
“Liza, is it?”
I pause. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I see you, too, needed a reprieve from the ever-moving mouth of Uncle Sam.”
“I do.”
“Then come, dear girl. Sit with me.”
The bed is soft, and the room is quiet. For me, this is paradise.
The woman motions to our surroundings. “We did it just like Katie’s.”
“It’s beautiful.”
In front of us hangs a painting of waterfalls and horses of white.
“She loved unicorns.”
And I realize, “I do, too.”
One photo on the nightstand is of a bright girl, glowing, smiling with her whole face.
“Brain cancer,” the woman says, and my heart aches to hear the pain inside that word: cancer. “She didn’t even live long enough for the Authority to take her. At least we have that.”
I nod, hunching over my own scars.
“I’ve got the same,” she says, without sadness. “I’m dying.” Her bright eyes don’t look scared; instead, they’re full of hidden secrets, and they match the girl’s in the photo. “My right lobe, the very same area, even. Isn’t that something? They could make me a Special, just as they have with Bernard. It would save me. They could fix me so easily, if I’d just stop being me. He’s begged me so many times, but how can I?”
She looks back at the photo, to the girl with matching brown, deer-pelt colored hair. “No. I’ve always had one foot in Heaven since my baby left. I’ll let nature take its course.”
She turns to face me, her voice breaking. “What do you think about that, Liza? Do you think it makes me a coward?”
I smile softly. “No. I think it makes you my hero.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Dallas
The second night Toby and his gang stayed with us at Ironwood, the fiends came and mounted an even greater assault. The beasts tore through us like rabbits in a patch, eating until they were engorged as ticks, before leaving at first light.
We lost ten, and five more were bitten.
Toby demanded these be burned at the stake. Why they couldn’t simply be burned on a pyre without ceremony, neither Cara nor I understood, but we were quiet about it. We avoided all of the brutal youths, and Toby. We even avoided looking at them, when possible.
I told Lotte I felt he’d purposely held off using real force against the monsters to show what a savior he’d be the next time. Make sure we knew we needed him.
Lotte wasn’t patient enough to listen to me, though; she’d been up to her ears in Toby’s demands, each more extravagant than the last, and she’d given in to every single one, afraid for her little town. If she knew better, she’d understand that dealing with blood-sucking-fiends was one thing, but naming someone like Toby a leader was like trading the devil for a demon.
Cara and I hid in our house, guns in hand, taking guard shifts. She, like me, woke sick and pale each time. Myself, because of my dreams and paralysis; her, because of her nightmares of Toby. In mine, I saw a shadow man that could have been anyone; in hers, she saw Toby sweating on top of her when she was barely sixteen.
If I had a choice between that and the shadow people, I’d take the shadow people every time. But maybe because I’d learned they couldn’t hurt me in my sleep, just scare me.
Tonight, we prepare because they seem to come every couple of nights, as if their hunger stirs only after a time.
Toby’s men guard the gate, so I stay in the center of town. But they strike, the gate has a gaping hole that Lotte asks me to fill. We find two brutal youths, drained dry and smiling in their death.
“You see anything?” Pete asks.
“No.”
“If you do…”
“Let’s trade up.”
My skin crawls, and I turn to see who spoke, already knowing the voice that’s haunted me for two long years.
“Toby,” Pete says. “I got this end. Go on back to where—”
“I’ve lost two men. I choose this spot. You take up my old one. It’s my choice, or should we call Lotte over?”
Pete gives me a pained look of apology, then shambles away.
Toby takes up the spot ten feet away from mine. Though he watches the woods with serious eyes, his mouth holds the hint of a smile. To say Toby’s ugly is a lie. He’s been cursed with a big, heavy brow, giving him a caveman-like appearance when irritated or in great ecstasy … otherwise, his wide face is not completely out of proportion.
It would be better if his face fit his heart.
Ugly as sin.
“My my, girl. You’ve grown into a woman and a half.”
I ignore the voice that resurfaces skeletons—pain, sadness, but more than anything: anger.
“Is it Dallas now?” he asks. “Good choice. Fits you.”
“Focus on your job, Toby. Wouldn’t want a fiend to gut you like
a pig, now would we?”
He rubs his mouth, glancing over in mock apology. “Listen, I shoulda never did what I did. I shoulda taken my time to break you in … so young. I’m not a prideful man; I admit my faults.”
I fight to swallow, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and it’s like I’m sixteen all over again.
He lowers his voice to an intimate level. “Can’t you see I was just protecting you? I never let anyone touch ya; not a one. I never let the others take their turn, and they fought me on that D—Dallas, they did, you better believe it.” Toby lifts his shirt to show a scar across his stomach. “I took a knife right here to keep you. And I thought that, well—I was wrong. I shouldn’t have—you know, my pa always said to tame ’em right away, and that was bad advice. You better believe it. But listen, you never have to worry again. I won’t force you, not ever.”
I grind my teeth. “Like you’d have the chance.”
Does he really believe he’s doing me a favor by promising not to rape me in my own home?
His look of remorse is ruined by the wolf waiting beneath, tongue lolling, ready to eat up anything innocent.
I lift my rifle and square it between his eyes. “What say you keep your apology, Toby, and I keep from shooting you through your brain matter?”
“Fine.” He raises his hands. “Fine, Dallas. Miss Dallas. Whatever you want, I’m gonna make it right, though. You better believe it.”
We both turn to face our spots on the fence, just in time to see the next wave of vampires leaping through the fires.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Liza
I squint into the small light of my bedroom to read.
Entry seven
Tommy’s not letting me leave the barracks again. Why can’t he see that I’m not an innocent little girl anymore? The dark child and her dark gift have grown, and it’s only a matter of time before she can’t pretend to see the light. I want to see the world like he does: full of hope. But the only hope I hold is in our friendship.
