by Zoe Cannon
A man sat cross-legged in the center of the cell, eyes closed. His hair, a shade lighter than Kara’s, curled around his ears, barely brushing the tops of his shoulders. His clothes hung loosely on his now-lean frame. Three years on the run had left its mark on him. His flesh clung too tightly to his bones; his face looked like it belonged to someone twice his age, with no trace of the carefree innocence he used to wear as easily as a smile.
But it was him.
Micah.
“Here to take me to reeducation already?” asked Micah without opening his eyes. “Did I lose track of time, or did the transport come early?” His voice was different than Becca remembered—slower, richer—but at the same time, exactly the same.
A second later, Becca registered what he had said.
Reeducation?
She tried to speak, but too many words warred inside her. I’m glad you’re alive, and Shut up and follow me before we all get caught, and But you’re too old for reeducation.
Kara tugged off her helmet. As she tucked it under her arm, her hair frizzed around her face. “You’re alive,” she said in a voice weak with relief.
Slowly, Micah opened his eyes. He smiled. “I should have known you wouldn’t leave me in their hands for long.”
“I was afraid we wouldn’t get here in time.” She walked to him—slowly at first, then running the last couple of steps. As he stood, she crashed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him as if he belonged to her, straining up on her tiptoes to kiss him fiercely.
He didn’t pull away.
Becca looked from Micah to Kara. Of course. It made sense, didn’t it? Three years of fighting Internal together. Three years of not being able to trust anyone but each other. And although three years ago she had seen Kara as a kid, in reality only two years separated them.
Kara pulled away. She looked from Becca to Micah and back again, the smile melting from her face.
“Is something wrong?” asked Micah.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Kara wasn’t talking to Micah. “I should have told you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Kara didn’t need to apologize for whatever she and Micah had together. Becca’s relationship with Micah had ended three years ago, and her new responsibilities left her no room for romance. Micah deserved whatever happiness he could find, no matter who he found it with.
That wasn’t the reason for the anger unfurling in Becca’s stomach.
Kara didn’t need to apologize for her relationship with Micah. But for not telling Becca her personal reasons for this rescue mission… for blackmailing Becca into putting the resistance at risk to save her boyfriend…
For that, an apology wouldn’t be enough.
But now wasn’t the time.
“Let’s go,” she said. “We need to get out of here before the cameras turn back on.”
Micah’s eyes widened. “Is that… Becca? Is that you?”
“Later.” Becca plucked the keycard from Terrence’s fingers and unlocked the door. The four of them spilled out of the cell together, Terrence looking from side to side as if the other Enforcer could be lurking around a corner, Kara and Micah talking in low voices behind him.
Halfway to the exit, Kara stopped. “Wait.”
Becca swerved aside to avoid slamming into Kara’s back. “What is it?”
“The girl. The one the Enforcer brought in here. You know where they’re going to send her.”
Becca glanced up at the camera. How long could Jared keep it off before someone noticed? “I know. But there’s nothing we can do.”
“She’s in one of these cells.” Kara’s gaze landed on the keycard clutched in Becca’s hand. “We can get her out.”
Becca knew what would happen to the girl in the reeducation center. Her heart clenched as she remembered the fear in the young prisoner’s eyes. “The cameras could come back on any minute now. And she would draw too much attention. It will be hard enough walking out of here with just Micah.”
Some emotion Becca didn’t recognize filled Kara’s eyes, something dark and desperate. “It’s worth the risk.”
“That’s not your decision to make.” You’ve already done enough to endanger the resistance tonight. She strode to the door. “We need to get out of here.”
Kara set her jaw. “I’m not leaving her.” She looked up at Micah for support.
But Micah shook his head. “We both have a chance at freedom—a chance we thought we had lost when we walked into their trap. We need to take it.”
Kara dug her nails into her palms. “And what about that girl’s chance at freedom?”
“This may not be her only opportunity. Maybe we’ll find her the next time we break into one of the centers. Maybe she’ll escape on her own. Right now you have to save yourself, and trust that the rest will work out.”
“Screw your trust. I’ve seen how it works out for people like her.” With no other warning, Kara’s hand darted out, wrenching the keycard away from Becca before Becca could react. She started for the closest cell door.
I can’t let her do this. Becca lunged. The keycard flew out of Kara’s hands; they both dove for it. Kara’s helmet clattered to the ground. It knocked into Becca’s foot, and Becca stumbled. Kara’s hands closed around the card.
But before she could unlock the nearest cell, Micah came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
“We can’t,” he said into her ear. “You know we can’t.”
Kara jerked away from his grasp. But when he tried to take the keycard, she let him.
Wordlessly, he held it out to Becca. Becca took it and rushed to the exit before Kara could change her mind. She unlocked the door, then held it open for the others to file through.
“Wait,” Kara said again, and Becca tensed. But Kara only pointed to the handcuffs hanging from Terrence’s belt. “Micah needs to look like a prisoner.”
Only a final glance behind her at the cells showed that she hadn’t forgotten about the girl she was leaving behind.
Once Terrence had fastened the handcuffs around Micah’s wrists, Kara pulled her helmet back on, and the four of them hurried up the stairs and into the hallway.
Two Enforcers loomed in front of them.
Don’t look at us, Becca urged mentally. Don’t look. But the Enforcers’ eyes shot straight to Terrence and his prisoner.
Terrence froze. Behind him, Kara prodded him forward, using Micah’s body to shield her movements from the Enforcers. Micah hung his head, affecting a look of defeat.
“Didn’t think the transport was coming until this morning,” one of the Enforcers remarked.
“It got here early,” Kara said shortly. She jabbed Terrence, with less subtlety this time. “We’ll miss it if we don’t get out of here soon.”
Terrence gave a jerky nod. He stumbled forward, dragging Micah with him. Following Terrence, Becca forced herself to look straight ahead, as if she didn’t notice the Enforcers’ scrutiny. Any sign of fear could be fatal.
The Enforcers didn’t stop them.
Down the hallway. A turn. Another. The corridor spilled out into the atrium—and there it was. The exit. Freedom.
Almost there.
Becca fought to keep herself from running as they approached the doors. If they could cross the atrium without attracting attention… if they could make it those last few feet…
And then they had made it. The winter wind fogged the front of her helmet as she yanked the door open. Another step, and she was across the threshold, the others following close behind.
Free.
They hurried the few steps to the parking lot. Terrence hastily unlocked Micah’s handcuffs before pulling off his helmet. A grin spread across his face; his eyes shone.
“We did it,” he breathed, as if he could barely believe it.
“Terrence?” a voice called.
No. Oh no. Becca took in the scene in front of her. Micah with his hands free, the four of them gathered around a car that was definitely not a
prisoner transport. More than enough to damn them.
“Get in,” she ordered the others, voice tight.
Kara jerked the car door open and flung herself inside, dragging Micah behind her.
But Terrence didn’t move.
An Enforcer strode into view, helmet under his arm. “You didn’t have any business down in those cells after all, did you? And these aren’t transfers from 289.” Sorrow made his voice heavy. “I didn’t want to be right.”
“Get in the car,” Becca repeated. They could still salvage this. If Terrence got in right now, they could make it out of the parking lot before—
The Enforcer drew his gun.
He leveled it at Terrence. “Think about what you’re doing. Think about who these people are. You don’t want to help them.”
Becca’s hand inched toward her own weapon. The gun she hadn’t used in since she had broken into the reeducation center three years ago. If she had to shoot, she was as likely to hit Terrence as she was to hit the Enforcer. And the Enforcer’s uniform would protect him—anything but a direct shot to his head would leave him unharmed. But she didn’t see another way out of this.
There has to be a way out of this.
“You can still come back from this.” The Enforcer’s voice was low, cajoling. “Hand over the prisoner, help me capture these dissidents, and no one has to know what happened here tonight.”
Terrence squared his shoulders. “I’m getting this prisoner out,” he said in a shaky voice.
He reached for his weapon.
The Enforcer closed his eyes as if pained. “Don’t do this.”
Terrence’s hand curled around his gun.
The Enforcer’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Now.
In one movement, Becca raised her gun and fired.
The Enforcer fell. Blood poured from his throat where the bullet had gone through his neck.
Becca stumbled as her legs threatened to give out under her. She turned away—don’t look—and steadied herself against the car.
“Let’s go.” She jerked open the car door. “They probably heard the shot inside. We need to leave now.”
Terrence didn’t follow.
Becca looked over her shoulder.
Terrence lay sprawled on the asphalt, a neat hole through his forehead. The look of awed triumph still hadn’t completely faded from his frozen eyes.
Becca hadn’t been the only one to hit her target.
She turned around. Wrapped her arms around his still-warm body. She grunted with exertion as she dragged him to the car. Slowly. Too slowly. They had no time.
But she wouldn’t leave him here.
She heaved Terrence’s body into the backseat beside Micah. She leapt into the driver’s seat a second before the alarms shrieked through the air.
Kara did this.
The thought repeated in her head as they tore from the parking lot, the alarms screaming behind them.
* * *
Processing 117, although only minutes away from Becca’s apartment and not that much farther from downtown, still managed to stay set apart. Woods surrounded the building for at least a mile in each direction, sometimes more. Internal said it was to make it harder for prisoners to escape, but Becca suspected it had just as much to do with the fact that nobody really wanted to be reminded of what went on in there.
Out behind the building, the woods extended for what Becca had once calculated to be about three miles. Unless they were searching for an escaped prisoner—and as far as Becca knew, no prisoners had escaped from 117 since the liberation a year ago—the guards never ventured out that far. Neither did anyone else. In theory, the land belonged to Internal; in practice, it might as well have been abandoned.
This was where the resistance buried their dead.
In silence, Becca dug into the half-frozen ground of the clearing. Kara and Micah worked beside her. Their breath curled like smoke, twining up into the dark branches.
Terrence is dead. He trusted me to protect him, and he’s dead.
But she couldn’t afford grief.
We killed an Enforcer. We made ourselves visible. The crackdowns will only get worse after this.
She couldn’t afford fear.
This is Kara’s fault.
She couldn’t afford anger.
Kara wedged her shovel upright into the ground, resting her weight on it. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
Becca tightened her blistered hands around the shovel as she wrenched another patch of dirt out of the earth. “Keep digging. We don’t have much time. The sun will be up soon.”
“I wouldn’t have come to you if I’d had any other option.”
You did have another option. You could have let Micah die. Micah looked their way, and Becca dropped her gaze, afraid he could see her thoughts. She stabbed at the earth with her shovel, stifling a small sound of pain as one of her blisters ripped open.
She took a deep breath. And another. The icy air froze her lungs. She welcomed the cold in. She let it banish everything she couldn’t let herself feel, everything she couldn’t let herself be, until only the resistance leader remained.
She stepped back to survey the hole that gaped like a wound in front of her. “That’s enough.” She looked from Kara to Micah. “Help me with the body.”
Micah crouched down by one side of Terrence’s body, while Kara joined Becca on the other. Together they lifted him and gently set him down into the grave.
One more death on her hands.
After three years, it should have gotten easier by now.
It wasn’t as if any of them expected to survive. Part of joining the resistance was accepting the fact that it would kill you in the end. Internal had them outgunned, outnumbered, outmatched. This was a war that could not be won, that would never be won. The best they could hope for was to do as much good in the world as they could before the end.
Becca had come to terms with her own death a long time ago. But with her people, it was different. They had placed their lives into her hands, and she owed it to them not to betray that trust. Whenever Internal tracked down another resistance member, whenever another mission went wrong, her failure lodged in her gut like a knife.
She could accept her death. She could not accept theirs.
She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears. This is what leading the resistance means. People die.
This is who I am now.
She opened her eyes. They remained dry.
She emptied her shovel over the grave. Dirt rained down over Terrence’s lips, over his hands, over the Enforcement uniform he must have hated.
Micah edged between Becca and Kara. He placed a hand on Becca’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
Becca gave a short nod. “Help cover him up. We need to get this done before sunrise.”
“I would never have asked anyone to die for me. I hope you know that.” His voice was calmer than it used to be. Steadier. It resonated with a quiet surety.
Becca dropped another shovelful of dirt into the hole. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Micah watched her for a moment. “You’ve done this before.”
Another nod. She kept shoveling, making Terrence disappear a little at a time.
“I’ve kept up with it on the news—the breakout, and all that’s happened since.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”
Becca shrugged. “It’s who I am now.”
“You know I’m here if you need me.”
Any comfort he could offer would only let the grief in. “Thank you.” The words came out stiffer than she intended.
Micah looked like he was going to say something else, but didn’t. He dropped his hand. Silently, he began scooping dirt alongside her.
It didn’t take long for the two of them to fill in the grave. When they had tamped down the earth, Becca stood quietly for a moment, eyes closed. “You
served the resistance well,” she murmured, even though Terrence was long past hearing. “Thank you.”
Then she turned away.
She strode to the edge of the clearing, where Kara had gone to wait while Becca and Micah talked. “The information.”
Kara looked past Becca to the bare patch of dirt. “I really am sorry, you know.”
“It’s done,” Becca said shortly. “I gave you what you wanted. Now tell me about the threat to the resistance.”
Kara began to pace. “They’re sending in spies. Infiltrators.”
Becca’s hand clenched around her shovel. “That’s it? That’s the information you promised me? They’ve tried before. We’ve caught them every time. If they try again, we’ll catch them again.”
“This is different.” Leaves crunched under Kara’s borrowed Enforcer boots as she sped up. “They sent in Surveillance agents before, right? And no matter how much they tried to sound like dissidents, you could always tell. They had that Internal shine to them.”
Becca nodded. One of the spies had shown up in Meri’s network, another in Sean’s. The resistance had discovered them both within a week.
“That’s not what they’re doing this time. They’re using reeducated prisoners. Resistance members. Not just teenagers, either. They’ve been experimenting on people our age. It’s what they wanted to do with Micah.” Kara swallowed. “Internal captures them, brainwashes them, and sends them back. They know the way in. They know the right things to say. They know exactly how to look like they belong, because they do. They’re your people, Becca. Only now they’re reporting to Internal.”
Her people. Brainwashed. Tortured. Forced to betray their cause.
Because she hadn’t protected them.
I’ll stop them. I’ll keep the rest of the resistance safe. That’s all that matters.
“When do they start?” She would tell everyone to be on alert for anything strange—anyone who disappeared for a while and then came back, anyone not acting the way they should. She would put a hold on recruiting until the threat passed. She would—
“You don’t understand.” Kara stopped directly in front of her. “It’s been going on for weeks. They’re in the resistance right now.”
