No Return (The Internal Defense Series)

by Zoe Cannon

Becca forced her gaze up from Peter’s empty chair as she entered the meeting room. She pushed the memory of his voice to the back of her mind. She made herself look at Alia instead, at Sean, at Jared. They were alive. The resistance was alive.

  She had done what was necessary. And it had worked. The resistance had survived. They had survived. They would survive.

  I’ll do anything. Just let me go.

  She took her seat in the circle, between Kara’s empty chair and Meri’s. She didn’t let herself look to either side.

  She had done what was necessary.

  It had worked.

  Nothing else mattered.

  “Is Peter… did he…” Alia’s voice, rough with tension. She sounded like she hadn’t slept for a week.

  I’ll do anything.

  A wordless sound almost escaped Becca’s throat as the gunshot echoed through her mind, as the image of Peter crumpling to the ground filled her vision. She pressed her lips tight to hold it in.

  One breath. Two. Three.

  Just let me go.

  “Peter—” The name came out in a croak. She cleared her throat. Steadied her thoughts. It worked. They’re alive. Nothing else matters.

  She cut off the memory of Peter’s final words before it could start up again. She let her mother’s voice come through her as she answered. Her mother would have made the same choice. Her mother would have understood that it was necessary.

  “Peter is dead.”

  Alia gave a sharp nod, face twisted in pain. Sean silently clenched his hands into fists as he straightened in his chair, preparing for battle. Jared’s only reaction was a slight tensing of his neck—but from Jared, that spoke as loudly as a scream.

  “What about Kara?” Sean’s eyes went to the empty chair beside Becca. The urgency in his normally-flat voice betrayed his concern. “Have you heard from her?”

  Becca didn’t let any images form behind her eyes. Not the look of betrayal on Kara’s face. Not Kara running through the woods, away from her. Nothing but a blank wall, a sheet of ice, cold and clear. “Kara is—”

  “Here,” a voice interrupted.

  Becca jerked her head up. Kara stood in the doorway, mouth set in a grim line. Becca tried to meet her eyes; Kara’s gaze passed over her without a hint of recognition.

  But she was here.

  “I thought—” she began.

  Kara interrupted, her voice as cold as her expression. “We have work to do.”

  Kara took her seat next to Becca. She sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. Becca might as well have been invisible to her.

  But she was here. She was here.

  With her help, they could put together a real plan. They could survive. They could do this.

  And everything Becca had done would be worth it.

  Kara looked to each of them in turn—Alia, Sean, Jared. Her eyes slid past Becca like she wasn’t there. “We’ve spent enough time sitting around waiting for Internal to pick us off,” she said. “It’s time to start making plans.” She lifted her chin. “It’s time to save the resistance.”

  Becca listened as attentively as the others, her heart lifting with every word.

  It worked.

  It was worth it.

  The resistance will survive.

  “We’re not going to get ourselves killed for some pointless gesture,” said Kara, with a significant look at Sean. She turned to Jared. “We’re not going to waste our time arguing over who’s allowed to say what.” Then to Alia. “And we’re not going to rescue people at random until Internal comes for us.”

  All at once, they opened their mouths to protest. Kara held up a hand, cutting them off, as she stood up from her chair.

  Finally, she met Becca’s eyes.

  “We’re going to go to 117.” Her words fell like bombs in the silence. “And we’re going to get our people out of there.”

  For a moment Becca forgot how to speak.

  Then she found her voice. “Out of the question.” Steady and cold. Unshaken. As though she had been prepared for this. “You just said it—we won’t get ourselves killed for a pointless gesture.”

  She looked around the circle at the others, waiting for their objections to join hers. Alia and Sean nodded slowly—but they weren’t looking at her. They weren’t agreeing with her.

  They were looking at Kara.

  Only Jared spoke. “You heard Becca. Let’s move on.”

  Kara ignored him. “You think rescuing our people is pointless?” Although her question was addressed to Becca, she aimed her words at the others. Putting on a show for them. Making a point.

  “Dying alongside them is pointless.” No sign of weakness. No hint of doubt. “Throwing our lives away on a rescue mission that can never succeed is pointless. They would want us to survive. They would want us to keep fighting.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Alia challenged. “How are you going to make that happen? Because it doesn’t look to me like we’re doing much of either.”

  “Look around you. We’re still here.” It worked. It was worth it. We’re surviving.

  “Not all of us,” said Kara. “And the resistance doesn’t abandon people.”

  Alia’s head bobbed.

  “The resistance doesn’t let Internal win.”

  Sean gave a grunt of agreement.

  “The resistance does what’s necessary to survive,” Becca countered. “That means making choices. It means making sacrifices.”

  “I’ve made my choice,” said Kara. “I made it the day I found out who you really are. And it sounds like your people have made theirs, too.”

  “That choice isn’t ours to make.” Jared rose from his chair, arms crossed, a black look carved into his face. “It belongs to Becca. No one else.”

  Alia shook her head. “No. You don’t get to do that anymore. You heard Kara—no more arguing over what we can and can’t say. And maybe you want to stick around here and be Becca’s little lapdog, but the rest of us have prisoners to save.”

  Jared strode forward, his face darkening further. Alia took a matching step toward him; so, rising from his seat, did Sean.

  Hastily, Becca stepped between them. “You remember what happened when we tried to rescue those prisoners from 117 two years ago,” she said to Alia and Sean. “All the people we lost. If you do this, that’s how it will end.”

  “And what’s our alternative?” asked Alia. “Let them rot in there while we sit around waiting to join them?”

  “I’ll figure something out.” I will.

  Sean shook his head. “We’re out of time.”

  Becca looked past them to Kara. “You’ll be taking away any chance the resistance has. Three core resistance members to interrogate—that’s all they need to wipe us out. That isn’t what you want.”

  “Wake up, Becca,” said Sean tiredly. “We’re dead anyway.”

  “We’re still here. We still have a chance.” It hadn’t all been for nothing. She hadn’t failed them. She wouldn’t fail them. “But not if you do this.”

  “The more we argue, the more time we lose.” Kara began to circle the room. “Get in touch with your networks. Everyone you can reach on short notice. We’re doing this tonight.”

  No.

  Their lives. Her purpose. Slipping from her hands.

  I will not lose them.

  “Do you remember what you said at last week’s meeting?” she asked Kara, her voice quiet. “Do you remember what you told me that night in the clearing? You joined the resistance because you believed in me. Because you believed in what I was doing. Don’t destroy it now.”

  “I believe in the person who saved my life,” said Kara without pausing her steps. “You’re not that person anymore. That means it’s up to me.”

  “Their lives aren’t yours to risk.”

  “They aren’t yours either.” Kara nodded first to Alia, then to Sean. “Why don’t you ask them what they want? Ask them whose lives they think are worth saving.” Bitterness twisted Kara’s word
s.

  Alia stepped out of the circle. She returned Kara’s nod. “I’m not sitting around and waiting anymore. Maybe we won’t make it, but at least we will have done something.”

  Sean joined her. “We’ll make them understand that they can’t take our people from us without consequences. We’ll make the world understand.”

  Slipping from her hands. No. “You don’t have a chance. You know enough about 117 to see that.”

  They didn’t answer.

  “You’re condemning everyone in your networks to death.”

  No answer.

  She burned the fear from her mind as she drew herself to her full height. Burned away everything, until there was nothing left. Be what they need. Be what they need, and you can keep them safe. Her voice—the resistance leader’s voice—filled the room. “If you walk out that door, you’ll die, and the resistance will die with you. All the sacrifices we’ve made will have been for nothing.” She dropped her voice, almost pleading. “Stay. We’ll get through this together, like we always have.”

  No answer.

  “I’m sorry, Becca.” For a moment, Becca saw real regret in Kara’s eyes.

  Then Kara turned for the door. “Let’s go.”

  Jared surged forward, knocking chairs aside. One hit the floor with a metallic clang. He ignored it as he pushed past Kara to block the door with his body. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Stop them, she wanted to urge him. Keep them here. Keep them safe. Whatever it takes.

  But the memory of Heather’s words stopped her.

  You don’t have the right.

  She caught Jared’s eye. Shook her head. “Don’t.” She ignored the tremor in her voice. It meant nothing. She felt nothing. She was the leader they needed, and nothing else. “Let them through.”

  Jared didn’t move. “You know what will happen if they do this.”

  “I know.” The prickling in her eyes was meaningless. “But this is their choice.”

  “They’re traitors,” Jared growled. “They’re giving the resistance to Internal.” But he stepped aside.

  Kara walked to the door. The others followed.

  The old Becca would have cried. The old Becca would have screamed at them to stay. But she wasn’t afraid. There was nothing left in her to be afraid.

  There was nothing left.

  With her hand on the doorknob, Kara turned to face Becca. “I’ll be the person you taught me to be,” she promised. “Even if you’ve forgotten who you are.”

  “This isn’t the way to—” Becca began.

  The door opened. Closed.

  And they were gone.

  * * *

  “There’s still a chance,” Becca said for the hundredth time. Her throat was raw with protests, her voice rough from overuse, but she kept going. “You know Kara. If anyone can pull this off, she can.”

  Micah shook his head. “She’s gone, Becca.” His voice broke, but no tears came. He had used up all his tears hours ago. “You know it as well as I do.”

  They sat together on Micah’s couch—Becca’s back rigid, Micah curled against the armrest with his arms around his knees. Neither of them had moved from this spot since last night, since Becca had come to his apartment to tell him about Kara. The TV played in the background; the cheerful voices grated against Becca’s nerves. They had left it on all night, waiting for the news report they didn’t want to hear, the one that would tell them about Kara’s arrest. The first streaks of sunrise outside the window told Becca how long they had been waiting.

  Becca reached for Micah’s hand without thinking about it. Whatever had happened between them didn’t matter now. He needed her. “You can’t stop hoping yet.”

  “There’s a difference between hope and denial.” Micah gave her hand a light squeeze. “It’s all right. If she had to die, this is the kind of death she would have chosen for herself.”

  She gripped his hand harder, hard enough that he pressed his lips shut on a grunt of protest. “You can’t give up on them.”

  Micah’s brow creased as he studied her face. “You should try to sleep.”

  Becca shook her head. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

  “I appreciate that.” Another soft smile, barely visible. “But I’ll be okay. And you need the rest.”

  “If they come back—” when they come back “—they’ll need my help. I have to be ready.”

  “I’ll wake you the minute I hear anything,” Micah promised.

  “You won’t need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “It’s all right, Becca.” Micah pulled his hand away; then, gently, he slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into half a hug. “It’s going to be all right.”

  The careful softness of his voice—like he was here to comfort her, instead of the other way around—set Becca’s teeth on edge more than the perky news anchor. She jerked away. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re the one who keeps saying they’re gone.”

  Micah didn’t try to touch her again. He folded his hands in his lap. “We knew the risks from the beginning.” A tiny smile, laced with pain. “To be honest, I’m surprised we made it this long.”

  She wouldn’t let him lose hope. She would be what he needed. “I won’t let you give up on her. On any of them.”

  “Accepting something isn’t the same as giving up,” said Micah. “I made peace with what helping the kids in the reeducation centers meant—with how our lives would end—a long time ago. That doesn’t mean I… it doesn’t make it any easier to…“ His breath caught. He paused to wipe away a last stray tear. “I don’t need to explain it to you, I’m sure. You know how it feels to lose someone. But the only thing we can do now is let go.”

  Be what he needs. “You haven’t lost her yet.” I won’t let him give up. I won’t let him lose hope. “She could walk through that door any minute now.”

  “You don’t need to do this, Becca. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  He won’t lose hope. He won’t lose anyone. “They’ll come back.”

  “Becca…” Softly, he stroked her arm. As if she were the one who needed help. As if she were the one who had given up. “You did everything you could.”

  I won’t lose—

  “They’re coming back!”

  In the silence that followed her shout, her heartbeat pounded in her ears, as loud as a series of gunshots. In her mind, she saw Kara fall. Sean. Alia. Bodies slumped against a concrete wall…

  Something inside her began to crumble.

  No. It won’t happen.

  She banished the images. Banished the fear. Her body went rigid under Micah’s hand.

  Be what they need. There is nothing else. There is nothing.

  “They’re coming back,” she repeated. Calm. Confident. She stared straight ahead as she spoke.

  Straight at the TV.

  At the news anchor whose vapid smile had faded into a grave expression.

  “…attack on Processing 117 late last night…”

  The picture shifted, the anchor’s face replaced by—

  No.

  —bodies lying across the parking lot, laid out in neat rows, eyes open and staring—

  I will not lose them.

  “…thanks to Enforcement’s quick response…”

  —blood staining the steps leading up to the door—

  I will not fail them.

  “…arrested several high-level members of the dissident organization believed to be responsible for last year’s…”

  —cuffs fastening around a kneeling figure’s wrists—Alia’s wrists—

  I will—

  I—

  A roaring filled her ears. Micah’s lips moved. She didn’t hear him.

  Deep inside her, something fractured.

  “I—”

  Shattered.

  “I can’t—”

  Fell.

  The roaring stopped. Her hollow words echoed in the sudden silence.

  �
�I can’t be what they need.”

  No tears came. There was nothing left in her to cry. There was nothing left.

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know who she was talking to. Micah. Kara. Everyone she had promised to protect.

  “Becca. Look at me.”

  Becca didn’t move.

  Micah ran his hand along Becca’s cheek, gently turning her head until their eyes met. She stared back at him, unresisting, unseeing.

  He bent his head to hers, until she could almost feel the soft buzz of his voice brushing against her skin. “You have nothing to apologize for, Becca. Nothing.”

  “I failed them.”

  “No.” Micah shook his head. “Look around you. Look at everything you’ve done. All the lives you’ve saved. Think about the liberation—you made that happen. You haven’t failed.”

  “The liberation was a mistake.” Her words landed between them with a thud. “The liberation is the reason this happened.”

  “That doesn’t make it a mistake. You did what you set out to do—and so did they. You stood up to Internal. You gave people hope. That’s worth the cost—you made that decision when you joined the resistance.” Micah’s voice softened, lowered, sank deep into her bones. “You all did.”

  She wanted to protest—but couldn’t find anything to say.

  Heather’s voice whispered through her mind. They made the same choice you did. They knew this could happen, and they did it anyway.

  And as for her… she had always known how her story would end.

  If she could accept her own death, she could accept theirs. She could accept the choice they had made.

  And this was what they had chosen. This fight. These consequences.

  She hadn’t failed.

  I can’t be what they need. Not anymore. The resistance leader was gone. The resistance was gone.

  But she had stood up to Internal. She had given people hope. She had done what she needed to do.

  It was over.

  She was done.

  “It’s okay,” Micah murmured. “You can let go now.”

  He wrapped his arms around her.

  Not the resistance leader. Not the person they needed. Just her. Just Becca, small and weak and shivering.

  She let him hold her as the first tears came.