by Zoe Cannon
And if Heather didn’t come back, she had lost the resistance.
But—
But we keep going. We keep fighting. It’s the only thing we can do.
She straightened her back. Raised her head. She met the anger in Vivian’s eyes, and she didn’t look away.
She found her voice—and with it, the remains of her strength. “I never wanted her to do it,” she repeated. “But she did it anyway, because saving a friend meant more to her than what I wanted. It meant more to her than her own life. It’s the same choice you made when you went to Heather’s apartment to warn her.” She took a breath. “And that’s what I need from you now.”
Another not-laugh. “You want me to help a liar? A dissident? The person responsible for setting a thousand prisoners free? You can’t tell me Public Relations made that part up.”
“I set those prisoners free,” said Becca. “And I ate pizza with you every week at Lucky’s for three years. You dragged me out ice skating at midnight that one time, and I had to convince those Enforcers we weren’t there for some secret meeting. We spent a week planning that party for Heather when Enforcement offered her a promotion, and then spent twenty minutes trying to get rid of everything before she got to the apartment once we found out they had changed their minds.”
She held Vivian’s gaze, silently urging her friend to hear her. To remember. To understand.
“I didn’t tell you about the resistance,” she said. “But that doesn’t make our friendship a lie. Just like your friendship with Heather was never a lie. Or your friendship with Micah.”
“It’s not the same. They didn’t do what you did.” But her voice wavered.
“Forget what you’ve heard.” A quiet plea. “You know who I am.”
Vivian didn’t answer.
She looked at Becca. Then at the door—her way out. When her gaze returned to Becca, the pain in her eyes hadn’t eased.
A heartbeat passed. Another. Another. Don’t walk away. Don’t do this. Don’t.
If Vivian walked away, Becca would lose her plan—her last chance.
But not just that. She would lose the friendship they had built. The friendship that had lasted despite Becca’s secrets, despite her betrayals, despite her efforts to scour everything but the resistance from her mind and her life.
Stay. Please.
Vivian sank back down to the couch. Back down beside Becca.
“What do you need me to do?”
Becca wished she could say everything she wanted to say. But even if there were time, she wouldn’t have known where to begin.
All she could do was answer Vivian’s question. All she could do was finish this.
“Only what I already said,” she replied. “When you tell Heather’s people about what happened to her, tell them to turn me in.”
“They’ll arrest you. You get that, right?”
Becca nodded.
Vivian’s face wrinkled in mingled bewilderment and grief. “Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because it will save—” The resistance. But she cut herself off before she could finish the sentence. Friendship or not, Vivian believed in stopping the resistance. She believed in it enough that she had almost turned Heather in, enough that she had risked her own life to make the spy program succeed. She had chosen Heather, in the end. She had chosen Becca. But there was a difference between helping a friend and helping the enemy.
“Because it will save a lot of people’s lives,” she said instead. “People who mean as much to me as Heather means to you.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Wasn’t that what their friendship had always been?
“But not yours,” said Vivian.
“You knew what would happen to you if anyone caught you warning Heather,” said Becca. “Did you think about your own life then? Would it have made a difference if you had?”
The grief etched into Vivian’s face didn’t lessen. But the confusion faded.
This was something Vivian understood.
“I hate everything you did for the dissidents,” said Vivian. “I don’t want you thinking that’s changed.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
Vivian wrapped her arms around Becca again. This time, Becca didn’t flinch.
“I’m going to miss you,” Vivian whispered. “So much.”
Becca wrenched an arm up out of Vivian’s hold to wipe the wetness from her eyes. “Thank you for…” For helping me now. For making me let you into my life in the first place. For sticking with me even when I kept pushing you away. “For everything.”
When Vivian pulled back, her own eyes were glistening. “Whoever those people are, they had better deserve this. This had better be worth it.”
“It’s worth it,” Becca promised.
So much more she wanted to say. So many apologies. So many explanations.
But only one thing that mattered. “Goodbye, Vivian.”
* * *
She would never see Vivian again.
Get back to Micah.
In less than a day, she would be dead.
Find Kara.
Heather was gone. Arrested.
Do what you have to do.
Moving mechanically, she forced herself off the couch. Out the door. Into the parking lot.
Keep going. Just keep going.
One step after another.
Keep going, keep going, keep—
The sound of her phone broke her rhythm.
Her mom, Vivian, Micah—any of them could be calling with news. She walked faster as she reached for the phone, heart pounding with excitement and dread. Whatever it is, whatever they say, keep going.
She brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Meet me at Investigation 212.” Kara’s voice. “Alone.”
In the center of the parking lot, Becca stopped. Numb fingers threatened to send the phone tumbling to the pavement.
“Kara?” She closed her fingers tighter around the phone, as if that could protect Kara somehow. “Kara, what are you doing?”
“You have fifteen minutes,” said Kara. “After that, I’m going in.”
“Kara, don’t—”
The line went dead.
Fifteen minutes. Becca looked down at her watch. At the seconds that had already begun to slip away.
She raced for her car.
* * *
If Becca hadn’t known any better, Investigation 212 would have looked almost friendly.
The carefully-shoveled walkway, framed by tidy piles of snow, followed an eye-pleasing curve from the edge of the parking lot to the front entrance. A flag hung above the door, partially obscuring a bronze plaque that read FOR A SAFER WORLD, and inside, a warm light glowed.
Becca scanned the parking lot as she stepped out of her car. No Kara. No figure hiding in the shadows between the decorative trees; no sign of the rusted-out shell of a car that belonged to her and Micah. Nothing but rows of respectable vehicles illuminated by the last of the late-afternoon sun—even on a Saturday, the parking lot was nearly full. All the cars were empty; all of them were unfamiliar.
All but one.
At the edge of the lot, a silver car had wedged itself into the last available space, narrowly missing the curb. Two people sat inside, heads bent in conversation.
Becca knew that car.
But it didn’t belong to Kara.
It belonged to Heather.
Becca took a step closer, squinting to bring the two figures into focus. The person in the driver’s seat jerked her head up as she waved her hand to make a point, revealing hollowed cheeks and a ragged haircut. The other flinched away, flinging her blonde curls against the window.
Kara.
And Heather.
She’s safe. Heather is safe. But Becca had no time for relief. She strode to the car, keeping her head tilted away from the cameras in the way that had become habit. Only the knowledge that she was being recorded kept her from sprintin
g.
She yanked open the car door and slid into the backseat. “Heather.” She swept her gaze over her friend. No cuts. No bruises. Nothing but a frightened expression that melted into confusion as soon as she saw Becca.
“I thought…” Becca resisted the urge to touch Heather just to prove she was real. “I thought you had been arrested. Vivian went to your apartment. She said it looked like there had been a struggle.”
Heather’s gaze darted nervously to Kara. “She came to my apartment. She said you had sent her. She said you wanted me to name her in your place. When I tried to call you to make sure…” She edged away from Kara.
“I did what I had to do,” Kara finished, with an edge of defiance.
“Did you hurt her?” Becca demanded. If she did…
Heather shook her head, a twitchy movement. “She just… threatened. Threw things. Then she told me to get in the car. I didn’t know what she might do if I said no. I mean, she’s a dissident, right? She’s one of you.” Another wary glance in Kara’s direction.
This wasn’t the time to correct Heather’s misconceptions. “And you brought her here,” said Becca, pinning Kara in place with her eyes. “Why?”
Kara gave Becca a disbelieving look, as if the answer were obvious. “So she could turn me in. Why else?” She shot a glare at Heather, who pressed herself up against the door in response. “But she won’t do it. Not unless you tell her.”
Heather gave a shaky nod of confirmation. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I won’t risk messing it up for you. No matter what she does to me.”
“We talked about this, Kara,” said Becca. “You know why it won’t work.”
“I’ll make it work.”
The clouds shifted; a ray of sunlight glinted off a camera at the corner of the building, reminding Becca of their surroundings. “We need to have this conversation somewhere else.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” As Kara turned her head, the light shone into her eyes, giving them a not-quite-sane gleam. “We’re talking about this right here, and when we’re done, one of us is going to walk into that building. Either Heather turns me in…” She smiled, grim and triumphant, as she rested the tips of her fingers on the door handle. “Or I go through that door and announce that I’m a dissident.”
“You won’t save my life that way. You won’t save anyone.” Becca’s hand twitched with the urge to yank Kara’s hand from the door. “For the plan to work, Heather has to be the one to turn me in. You’d be dying for nothing.”
“You think I care?” Kara shifted again, letting the sun fall on the tear tracks that striped her face, and on the streak of blood along her hairline that the shower hadn’t washed away. “Either way, I die. Whether it’s for nothing is up to you.”
Becca studied Kara’s face, looking for some sign of weakness, some hint of hesitation. She found nothing.
Kara wasn’t bluffing.
“And what about when you give them everything under interrogation?” Fear turned Becca’s voice harsh. “What about when you tell them about the plan? What do you think will happen to the resistance then?” Nothing Vivian could say to Internal would make any difference once Kara started confessing.
Kara waved the question away. “I won’t tell them anything.”
“Have you ever seen an interrogation? I used to transcribe them for Internal every day. The number one thing I learned—everyone breaks.” She thought about her own interrogation, only hours away now, and shuddered.
“So make sure I have a good story to give them.”
“I know you don’t want anyone else to die.” She shifted closer to the edge of the seat. Tensed her legs underneath her. If she lunged fast enough, she could force herself into the driver’s seat beside Kara and get them out of here.
“If you do this, you’ll be putting the resistance in danger,” she continued. “You’ll be putting more lives at risk.”
Closer.
“You don’t want that.”
Closer.
Kara flung up an arm to block Becca’s way. “Try it, and I’ll end this right now.” She curled her fingers around the handle.
Becca stopped, her stomach dropping.
“I won’t try anything.” Becca kept her voice low and soothing. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay here so we can talk about this.”
Kara didn’t let go of the handle.
“You did what you thought was right. That’s all any of us can do.” Without taking her eyes from Kara, she let her hand creep toward her own door. If Kara ran, could Becca catch her before she reached the building? Before the cameras got a clear view of their faces?
“You weren’t there.” Kara gripped the handle tighter as her eyes unfocused. “You didn’t watch them die.”
“Not them,” Becca agreed. “But others. You know what happened after the liberation. You know what happened when I refused to have Ryann tortured.”
Kara spoke as if she hadn’t heard. “I killed them. I destroyed the resistance. But I can fix it.” Dead words. Dead eyes. “This is how I fix it.”
Hesitantly, Heather raised a hand. “I don’t know anything about the resistance. And I don’t know what it is you did. But if you want to make up for it, wouldn’t it make more sense to keep fighting for your…” She motioned vaguely in the air. “…your cause, instead of throwing your life away because you feel guilty?”
Kara’s gaze snapped back into focus.
Knuckles white, eyes burning, she rounded on Heather.
Heather flattened herself against her seat. Her hands shook. Her voice shook. But she kept going. “Why not help the people who are left? Why not save a life for every life you lost?”
“You think this is just about me?” Kara’s voice rose into a shout.
Heather flinched back with a whimper.
“Do you have any idea who she is?” Kara demanded, jerking a thumb toward Becca. “Do you?”
“She… she’s Becca. She’s my best friend. And I don’t want her to die either. But—”
“She’s Becca Dalcourt.” Kara slammed her hand against the door in sudden violence, prompting another cry from Heather. “She saved my life. She rescued a thousand prisoners from 117.” Another slam. “And she’s going to get herself killed like none of that matters. Like the resistance doesn’t need her.” Fresh tears began to travel down the tracks along her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut as if to hold them back, but they only fell faster. “Because of me. Because of what I did.”
Becca reached forward to catch Kara’s arm before she could hit the door again. “This is what the resistance needs from me now.”
“And what happens after you’re gone? What about all the people like me who need you to save them?” Kara ripped her arm from Becca’s grip. With her other hand, she shoved open the car door. A wave of cold air rushed in.
“Tell her.” Kara’s demand lashed at Becca, stinging her cheeks as sharply as the wind. “Tell her to name me. Now. Or I’m going inside.”
“Becca?” Heather looked from Becca to Kara uncertainly. “What do you want me to do?”
Becca couldn’t let Kara do this. She couldn’t let Kara take her place.
But Kara would die either way.
She calculated the distance between her seat and the door, between her door and Kara’s, between Kara and the entrance to Investigation 212. She pictured Kara racing through the woods on the night of Peter’s death, too fast for Becca to catch.
If she ran now, Becca wouldn’t be able to stop her.
“I—” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
And then, as she repeated Kara’s words in her mind, she knew.
What happens after you’re gone?
She looked at Kara. Really looked at her. Past the tears, past the crazed light in her eyes. Past all that to the person who had helped lead her fellow prisoners out of the reeducation center. Who had walked into that first resistance meeting and done what Becca couldn’t. Who had convinced Becca to let her stay.
Becca tried to forget the cold and the danger as she asked her question. “When you led that rescue mission, what went wrong?”
The wind swallowed Kara’s bitter laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” But she didn’t step out of the car. Not yet.
“What did you do wrong?” Becca repeated.
“Half the people I brought with me are dead. The other half are in 117.” Kara set one foot down on the pavement. “You want me to tell you exactly how they died? Want me to draw you a picture of what’s happening right now to the ones who weren’t so lucky?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Becca paused. She had to choose her words carefully. Anything she said could send Kara bolting out that door. “Why did you go to 117?”
“Because I didn’t listen, okay? You told me what would happen, and I ignored it. I should have learned after what happened with Ryann, and instead I got more people killed.” She shifted her weight, leaning out into the cold, preparing to launch herself from her seat. “But it’s never going to happen again. I’m making sure of that.”
One wrong move, one wrong word, and it would be too late. “You did it because it’s what I did for you.” Gentle voice. Gentle words. Don’t run. Listen.
“It doesn’t matter. We both know how it ended.” Kara swung her other leg out of the car. “I’m done with this. You’ve got ten seconds to tell her to turn me in.”
Last chance. “I’ll tell her,” Becca promised. “I’ll tell her to say whatever you want. As soon as you give me an answer.” For the final time, she asked the question, praying she had read Kara right. “What went wrong?”
“I didn’t understand.” Kara flung the words into the wind. “I wanted to be like you. To do what you would have done. It’s all I’ve wanted for the past three years. But that’s not who you are. It never has been.” The words could have been accusing. But the anger in Kara’s voice wasn’t directed at Becca. “You know who you can save and who you need to sacrifice. You don’t put one person, or forty, ahead of the entire resistance. You don’t risk other people’s lives just because the person you love will die if you don’t. Or because someone reminds you of… of how close you came to…” She clenched her jaw against her tears.
