The Recoil Trilogy 3 Book Boxed Set: Including Recoil, Refuse and Rebel

by Joanne Macgregor

  I feel small and very alone, and dense with pain and guilt. I burrow my wet cheeks into the pillow and inhale deeply. Quinn must have taken Connor’s sleeping bag and pillow to the van — perhaps he thinks it would be sacrilege for me to lay my disgraceful sniper’s head on the leader’s pillow — because both the sleeping bag around me and the pillow under my head smell of my pirate.

  Chapter 25

  Need to know

  After breakfast the next day — a stomach-churning combo of scrambled, powdered eggs alongside canned peaches in sweet syrup — Kirsty, Kate and Ross disappear down the trail that leads out of camp and up the mountain. Zonia, with Darius close by her side, huddles together at one end of the circle of logs with Quinn, Candace and Bree. They talk in low voices, and there’s no need for anyone to tell me I’m not welcome at their chat. Judging from the hostile glances Kate and Darius occasionally direct in my direction, and Zonia’s long, speculative looks, I suspect they are discussing the problems of whether to believe me and what to do with me.

  I tug the cuffs of my long-sleeved shirt down over my wrists. I’ve lost any desire to show them what lies beneath. Screw them. After what I’ve been through, I don’t need to prove myself to anyone.

  Feeling conspicuous and at a loose end, I volunteer to help Nicky tidy the camp and take stock of the supplies, which are stored in black plastic storage bins under the two trestle tables. While I count and restack packets of soup and pouches of freeze-dried mac ‘n cheese, I notice Neil, Evyan and Mark disappearing into the biggest tent. Mark reemerges holding two coaxial cables, which he connects to extension cables dangling from a nearby tree, their sockets protected by plastic bags. My eyes follow the cables up the trunk to near the top of the branches, where I can just glimpse the circular beige shape of a satellite dish above the thick foliage.

  Mark returns to the tent and, with a glare at me, Evyan zips it closed behind him.

  “What are they up to?” I ask Nicky.

  She follows my gaze from the tent to the dish and back again.

  “You can probably guess that we don’t have a satellite dish in order to watch T.V.,” she smiles. “Neil’s some kind of science and I.T. genius, a real computer wizard, and the others are helping him with one of our missions.”

  “You have computers here?” I’m amazed.

  “Just a couple. Neil has rigged them to run off solar panels, and they connect to the deep web via satellite.”

  “He sounds like someone after my brother’s heart.”

  “You have a brother? Back at home?”

  “Yeah, a twin, Robin. He’s gotten really into computers and coding.” I sit on the lid of the storage bin and push down on the ridged edges to seal it closed, sneaking a glance at Quinn. He’s talking to Zonia, counting off the points of some argument on his long fingers. I can hear the musical lilt of his voice from here, but I can’t make out the words.

  “So what is Neil trying to do?” I ask Nicky.

  She nibbles on a cuticle and gives me a long stare, as if deciding whether she can trust me.

  “Well, I can’t tell you anything specific, even if I did understand — which I don’t, not at all — but I think he’s trying to build a website which can counteract the lies and propaganda the government puts out. Let people know the truth, you know? Like an underground online newspaper, or something like that old WikiLeaks website.”

  “But wouldn’t they be able to track him?” I start counting the rolls of toilet paper stored in the next bin.

  “Yeah, so that’s the hard part. He’s trying to make it undetectable, and temporary or something, so that it pops up and jumps from server to server before its cyber trail can be traced. And the plan is to connect it to similar sites that people in other sectors are building.”

  “Wow.” The rebels are more organized than I would have guessed.

  “They actually got one up and running in the Northeast Sector, but it lasted less than a day before they were traced and captured, and the whole thing was destroyed by the National Cyber Crimes unit. It was bad, really bad, because they found names and contacts and plans on the system and arrested a bunch of our supporters.”

  I think about Robin, trying to break into high-security systems, and my stomach twists in a knot of worry.

  “So Neil has to be super-careful, and it’s taking time. I think Zonia’s getting impatient. She has other ideas.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Nicky nods, but this time she doesn’t explain further. Unseen by either of us, Quinn has walked up to us, and he looks grim. “She’s on a need-to-know only basis, Nicky.”

  Nicky looks guilty but says, “I don’t see how we’re supposed to stop her from noticing things.”

  “Perhaps,” I suggest in a tone of false politeness, “you should separate me from the others. Lock me up out of the way somewhere and toss me the odd crust of bread. You could turn the old admin office back there into your own suspect detention center.” I use the term deliberately to goad him. “Maybe Neil could give you some zip ties to restrain me.” I place my wrists together and hold them out to him.

  “Jinx!” Nicky chides, pulling my hands down.

  “Maybe we would all be safer that way,” Quinn says, his face expressionless. Ouch. “But Zonia has other plans for you.”

  He stalks off, and I frown down at the bin of toilet paper. I’ve completely lost count and will have to start again.

  “He seems pretty angry with you,” Nicky says.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Were the two of you an item?”

  I look up, taken aback. “What makes you ask that?”

  “The air sort of crackles whenever you’re together,” she says, grinning. “So I figure it was pretty hot and heavy between the two of you at one time.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I sigh. “Then he found out I was a sniper, and then I darted Connor. And that pretty much ended things — for him, at least.”

  “I can totally see how that would do it. But as guys go, he’s one of the good ones. I don’t think you should give up on him just yet.”

  Huh? Is she nuts, can’t she see how he clearly feels about me? “He may have liked me once, but he doesn’t any longer. I think he doubts I ever cared for him at all. He suspects I was just faking it. It doesn’t seem like he believes my version of events, and now that he’s confirmed I’m a killer, I think … I think he hates me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He’s probably just all kinds of mixed up, you know? Upset about his brother, not sure who to side with or who to trust. And don’t forget that he fetched you. Angry as he was, he got Zonia to send the van for you. He didn’t leave you out there, stranded. That counts for something, surely?”

  It’s something to think about, I guess.

  “Can I ask another question about what the rebels are doing?” I say, and rush to reassure her, “It’s not anything sensitive.”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you guys just go to the media, and tell them what you know? That way everyone could find out what’s actually going on, and there wouldn’t be a need for a revolution.”

  “There is no way we’ll achieve lasting change without a revolution,” Nicky says firmly, and I’m reminded that she’s one of Zonia’s supporters. “But that aside, we’ve tried going to the media, and it didn’t work. No editor in the country would run the story. What with the state of emergency, and all its restrictions and embargoes and censorship, they’d be in a heap of trouble. Our suspicions and accusations are just too hot to handle without real, hard proof. One editor is really keen, but he says if he publishes what we’ve got, they’ll arrest him and shut his site down under the Protection of Information Act. They’ve done it before, particularly in the early days of the plague. He wants proof — video footage, computer code, government memos — before he’ll consider it. I don’t suppose you managed to lift one of those poison bullets?”

  I shake my head. “They keep the weapons and ammo locked in the armory
. You sign for everything going out and have to account for every shot when you return your gear.”

  “Most likely it wouldn’t be enough, anyway.” Nicky sighs. “There’d be no way to prove where you got it from or how it was being used. It’s kinda hopeless. That’s why we’ve shelved that plan and are working on our other mission.”

  Only on my third day in camp do I discover the nature of the second mission. Zonia must intend for me to find out, because she orders me to accompany Quinn and Evyan when they leave camp, each of us wearing a backpack containing a bottle of water and a packed lunch. Quinn takes the lead up the trail which curves behind the camp and then snakes steeply up the mountain through the pines, maples, oaks and the thick underbrush. It feels good to exercise my body again, and it’s amazing to be out in nature. Even in the shade, it’s hot on this late summer’s day, so when we cross a clear stream trickling over moss-covered rocks in a small ravine, I stop to splash water on my face and arms.

  I allow myself a moment of petty glee when I realize that I am way fitter than Evyan. She is so busy trying to catch her breath that she doesn’t snipe at me for the whole climb.

  When we pause for a quick break, beside a vertical rock face with ferns growing out of cracks in its gray surface, I can’t resist offering her my bottle of water. “Dasani, Evyan?”

  She ignores me but drinks deeply from her own bottle before we set off again through a densely wooded section. The path is covered with a soft mulch of decomposing wood, leaves and lichen. Our feet slip on the drifts of damp pine needles which release their fresh fragrance as we crush them underfoot, but I’m more worried about the possible dangers lurking in amongst the trees than a twisted ankle.

  When Quinn notices me cautiously looking from side to side and periodically checking back over my shoulder, he says, “Expecting trouble? Or are you just paranoid?”

  “You guys are careless. Anybody could be watching you.”

  “No one knows we’re here.”

  “As far as you know. Anyway, there have got to be rats in these woods. They could easily be infected. You should all be much more vigilant about that. You should have an armed guard day and night at the camp, and on these hikes, and when you collect firewood. Just in case.”

  “Are you volunteering?”

  I shrug. “It would make more sense than having me count cans of beans. I’d like to help.”

  “Or maybe you just miss shooting things. You can take the girl out of the kill-zone …”

  “Oh, get lost.” I try to make my tone sound annoyed rather than hurt. If I didn’t love him … Strike that — if I hadn’t loved him, then the jibes would just be an irritation. As it is, every barbed comment hits home hard. I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind. “You —”

  There’s a sudden rustle in the bush beside me, and I freeze, paralyzed by fear.

  Chapter 26

  Surveillance

  A blur of tan fur scurrying out from under the bush sends me leaping backwards. I crash into a pine tree, banging my head painfully against its trunk and bringing down a shower of pine needles.

  “It’s only a squirrel,” Evyan snickers, pointing at the long, bushy tail now disappearing up a nearby tree trunk. “You sure scare easy.”

  “Squirrels can also be infected, you know. Any mammal can,” I snap, brushing pine needles off my shoulders and rubbing the tender spot on the back of my head. There’ll be a lump there later.

  “You okay?” Quinn asks, surprising me.

  I nod, which brings down a scatter of needles from the top of my head, and then set off down the path again, cursing the squirrel.

  I’m hot and sweaty by the time we reach the top of the small mountain and circle around the back. On this side, the view looks out over a valley in which nestles a vast residential compound surrounded by a take-no-prisoners electric fence. A long, tree-lined drive begins at a set of huge gates, leads past fields and what might once have been horse paddocks, to a large, three-winged lodge. There is a tennis court nearby, plus a large pond, several outbuildings and small cabins, and even what I think might be a small golfing green.

  Evyan and Quinn park themselves behind a large, flat-topped boulder and take turns to conduct surveillance of the compound. In spite of my irritation at him, I make a thorough surveillance of Quinn. I’d forgotten how broad his shoulders were and how his thick, dark hair makes a curl at the top of his neck. The fine hairs on his arms are golden in the sun, like a halo against the olive of his skin. My fingers ache to make contact with that skin. It’s so beautiful. Everyone in the world should have skin that color.

  I lean back against a rock and wince at a sharp prick in my back — more of the irritating pine needles. While I brush myself down again and comb my fingers through my hair, picking out the sharp green needles lodged in its strands, Quinn and Evyan peer over the top of the boulder to observe the buildings below through a pair of binoculars. They note the times and details of every coming and going in a small notebook — no doubt tonight they will report back to Zonia.

  “Who’re we spying on, Pellegrino?” I ask Evyan.

  She grinds her teeth but doesn’t respond.

  “It must be someone important, by the looks of those security patrols.”

  Even with my bare eyes, I think I can make out several guards.

  More silence.

  “Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find out who it is when they spot us, capture our sorry asses and take us down to meet the owner. I’m surprised they haven’t done so already, actually,” I say.

  “What, now you’re going to say there’s something wrong with our position again?” says Evyan with a sneer. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re behind a rock. And we’re under the shelter of this pine, so we’re not visible from above.”

  “We don’t need to be — we’re visible from below.”

  Evyan snorts dismissively, but Quinn listens while I point out that peering over the top of the big rock creates a perfect silhouette — easy for anyone down below to spot if they happen to look up. The current position of the sun also means that watchers would likely see a telltale light reflection off the binoculars.

  “And what you’re wearing,” I say, pointing at Evyan’s orange T-shirt, “hardly blends you into the environment.”

  I’m wearing my khaki T-shirt again — its long sleeves do nothing to keep me cool on this hot day, but they do cover my bruises.

  Evyan gives me a filthy look, but pulls on a black hoodie, despite the heat.

  “What would you recommend?” asks Quinn. The way he says the words tells me he doesn’t find it easy to ask me for advice.

  “We need to create a hide, use the grass and shrubs and mud to make a ghillie suit of sorts.”

  “A what?” asks Evyan.

  “A ghillie suit. Camouflaged clothing designed to blend in with the background,” I explain. “And we should maybe even move around according to the direction of the sun.”

  “Lucky for us they taught you how to hide while you were picking people off,” says Evyan.

  “Yes, wasn’t it?” I reply blandly. I will not let her get to me. Or, more accurately, I will not let her see how much she gets to me.

  Quinn says nothing.

  I pick a spot behind a thick bush and remove my brown canvas jacket from where it’s tied around my waist. I drape it over the forked branch of another bush growing to one side of the boulder, keeping it in place with a rock. It creates a small, shaded gap through which we can peer through the binocs. I cover it with a combination of long, plucked grass and small, dead branches which I collect from under the trees behind us, and tuck some of the vegetation into my peaked cap and my waistband and let it stick out from my pockets.

  Then I pour a little water from my bottle into a section of clay-like dirt, stir it with a stick and smear it patchily onto my face to break up the pale oval that is so easily recognizable as a human face. I offer to do the same for Evyan, but she says, “I’ll do my own, thanks,” and ma
kes stripes over her cheeks like an Apache warrior in an old western movie.

  “Quinn?” I hold out the handful of mud to him.

  He stands rigidly still while I smear the mud on his forehead and cheeks, staring away from me out to the side, leaving me free to study his vivid gray eyes, the muscle pulsing in his jaw, the rough stubble of his skin under my fingers. My hand is trembling again. When I make to rub more mud over his exposed forearms, he steps back from me.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Here, Quinn,” says Evyan in a voice sweet enough to rot teeth, “let me. I’ve still got a bunch of mud on my hands.” And she takes her time rubbing it thoroughly over his arms.

  “Make it patchy. You defeat the whole point if it’s a one-toned human shape,” I say.

  She hovers over him, smearing off spots with a fistful of tissues, and makes sure at every moment to keep herself between him and me.

  She could spare herself all this effort of dissing me and protecting Quinn from my supposed feminine wiles. He hardly speaks to me, and never to say anything kind. And since that charged moment in the van, he seems determined to prevent his body from physically closing the emotional distance between us.

  Nothing of any real interest happens at our surveillance target the whole day. Evyan directs the odd snide remark my way, but Quinn ignores me for the most part, and we trudge back down the mountain in silence. Quinn reports back to Zonia, Mark beckons Evyan into Neil’s tent, and I help Nicky and Ross with dinner — canned hot dogs with rehydrated freeze-dried corn, and instant coffee with long-life milk. I haven’t eaten a bite of fresh food since I left home. If the rats don’t get me, then scurvy probably will.

  The next day, a different team of three rebels heads up the mountain, and Zonia, to Evyan’s evident delight, orders me to go clean the restrooms. I suspect this is to get me out the way for another of their ‘strategy sessions’, because everyone else left in camp huddles together on the logs while I head off, toilet brush in one hand and a bucket of cleaning supplies in the other, to the restroom and shower block. I hang my jacket on a tap, tie back my long hair and begin working. I wipe the basins, scrub the mildewed shower stalls, and mop the muddy floors.