I Am the Traitor

by Allen Zadoff

  Her voice cracks.

  “The man who was my partner of over ten years was on that helicopter. The man who built The Program with me, the one who educated you and treated you like his own son. That man disappeared in the burning wreckage of that helicopter. So you might imagine that I am upset, Zach. More upset than I have ever been, and I have been quite upset in my time.”

  She waits, watching me, her eyes intense even through the screen.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  I show her sadness. It’s not difficult to do. There is a part of me that is legitimately upset over what has happened.

  “Are you sorry because you were involved, or are you sorry for my loss?”

  Don’t lie to her. Stay as close to the truth as possible.

  “I’m sorry for both, Mother.”

  “So you were on the helicopter,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  “I see,” she says. She adjusts her glasses. “It was you who brought down the helicopter.”

  “Not directly.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Father gave the order for me to be drugged, and I reacted. There was a fight, one of the soldiers’ guns went off, and the pilot was killed. It was unintentional.”

  “Why would he drug you?”

  “He said he didn’t trust me, and he wouldn’t take me to you until he’d questioned me himself.”

  “That is highly unusual,” Mother says.

  “So you didn’t order it?”

  “I did not.”

  I sense an opening. This time I show her my anger, turning the energy of the conversation back on her.

  “Let me tell you how things look from my side of the board, Mother. You send Father to pick me up, and he makes a move to capture me. I’m the one who has questions here. I’m the one who feels betrayed.”

  “Whatever your feelings, you let your Father die in that wreck.”

  “I tried to save him,” I say. “It wasn’t possible.”

  “Enough,” Mother says. Her face turns to stone. “Your behavior is unforgivable.”

  “This is not what I wanted, Mother.”

  “What do you want?”

  I want to find my father.

  “I want to come home,” I say. “But I need to know that what happened with Father won’t happen again.”

  “Are you negotiating with me?”

  “I’m asking for your protection.”

  Mother crosses her arms and shakes her head. “You think you still have options, but you’re wrong. You don’t have options anymore.”

  The sound of helicopter rotors in the distance, moving toward me.

  The call has gone on longer than I intended. Mother has kept me talking long enough to divert resources in my direction.

  “This was never a negotiation,” Mother says.

  The sound of the helicopter gets louder above me.

  “I gave you a chance to come in on your own power, but you hurt us. Badly. Whatever Father did, your actions are unforgivable. So now we’re coming for you, Zach. You’ve left us no choice.”

  Us.

  Why would Mother change pronouns? Who is she referring to?

  “Good-bye, Mother.”

  “For now,” she says.

  I power down the phone and slip it into my pocket.

  I have no options. That’s what Mother said.

  But that’s not what she’s taught me. There are options, even in desperate circumstances. There are always options. To find them, I will need time.

  So I run.

  I USE EVERY INCH OF THE THREE MILES I’VE GIVEN MYSELF.

  I run at breakneck speed through the wood line, across several neighborhoods, racing back to the house.

  I burst through the side door, momentarily fearful of what I might find, but the fear dissipates, unable to take hold with the neurosuppressor inside me.

  I race through the kitchen and into the living room. Howard is reading an old novel from the bookcase.

  “We have to go!” I shout.

  He jumps out of his chair and the book drops to the floor, the cover splayed open. It’s a Hemingway novel, A Farewell to Arms.

  I say, “Grab your things and get to the garage. We’re leaving in two minutes.”

  “Tanya’s back,” he says. “She’s upstairs.”

  “Two minutes!” I say.

  Tanya’s not in the bathroom or the first bedroom. I open the door of the second bedroom, startling Tanya in the process.

  She’s in her underwear, pulling on a pair of jeans. She is gorgeous, her skin tanned golden brown, her breasts pressed into a familiar blue-and-white sports bra.

  She looks at me with a strange expression on her face. She’s holding a cell phone I haven’t seen before.

  “Whose phone is that?”

  “Mine,” she says.

  “A Program phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t have it when I searched you.”

  “I hid it behind the seat before I got out of the car.”

  “So you had it all this time?”

  “I had it, but I didn’t use it until now. Mother just called.”

  I hear a door open and close downstairs. Howard going out to the garage.

  “Mother knows we’re together, Zach. She gave me orders to bring you in.”

  “And if I won’t go?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  She doesn’t have to. We both know the answer.

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  I steady myself, preparing for what will come next. Tanya and I, fighting until one of us cannot fight anymore.

  “I’m going to ignore the orders,” Tanya says, as if it’s obvious.

  “Why?”

  “I just got a boyfriend. I’m not going to give him up.”

  I smile.

  “Boyfriend? This is moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “On second thought, maybe I will turn you in.”

  “We have to get moving,” I say.

  “Agreed.”

  I start to go, but I pause at the door.

  Get out of the doghouse fast. That’s what Howard told me.

  “About earlier. I said some stupid things.”

  “No kidding,” she says. “You were a real asshole.”

  “I was going to use a different word, but yeah, you’re right. I’m not used to, you know—”

  “Relationships?”

  “I’m not very good at them.”

  “You’re better than you think,” she says with a smile. “Apology accepted. Now how about we get the hell out of here?”

  “You want to put on a shirt before we go?”

  “I don’t know, I thought I might wear a bra for this part of the mission.”

  “That’s okay with me,” I say.

  “You’re such a guy,” she says.

  She pulls on her shirt. “What are you thinking in terms of a plan?”

  “Short term, we drop off the grid.”

  “Head northeast,” she says. “Maybe into Canada.”

  “Good idea,” I say. “There might be camping gear in the house. If not, we’ll buy some on the road.”

  “I saw a storage shed in the backyard.”

  “I’ll go and check. Grab whatever else you can find, and I’ll meet you in the garage.”

  “One more thing before you go,” she says.

  She rushes forward and kisses me.

  “What was that for?” I say.

  “Do I need a reason?”

  HOWARD ISN’T IN THE GARAGE.

  The back of the Jeep is open and half-filled with food and supplies. I call Howard’s name inside the house, but I don’t get an answer.

  I have to find him. Now.

  I quickly check the perimeter of the house, ending up in the backyard near the storage shed.

  “Nice to see you again, Zach.”

  It’s Mike. He steps out of the shadow
s by the side of the house. He has Howard next to him, clamped by the elbow. Howard’s face is pale.

  “Don’t hurt him,” I say. “He’s innocent.”

  “He was innocent, but not anymore. You signed his death warrant the moment you told him who you were. That was back in New York, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I say. No need to lie now. It’s more important to keep Mike engaged and talking. Lying to him is only going to make him angry.

  “That girl in New York, she’s the one who turned you.”

  “She didn’t turn me,” I say.

  Samara’s face appears to me, dark curls falling to her shoulders the way she looked the first time I saw her.

  “It had nothing to do with her,” I say. “I had faulty orders, and I tried to set things right.”

  “There are no faulty orders. Only faulty soldiers.”

  “You helped me in New York,” I say. “You knew I deviated, and you kept my secret. Whose orders were you following?”

  “It wasn’t about orders. I kept your secret because I wanted you alive. I thought you were redeemable.”

  “I’m more than redeemable. I’m an asset,” I say.

  “An asset to who?”

  Howard struggles to get free, and Mike clamps down harder on his shoulder.

  “Let him go, Mike.”

  “That’s not going to happen. I don’t really give two shits about this kid, but you do. And I’d like to know why.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “There are no friends. Not for people like us.”

  “People like you, Mike. Not me.”

  “Oh man, now I’m really feeling bad about myself.”

  “Maybe you can go to therapy and talk about it.”

  Mike’s gaze shifts behind me, and he smiles.

  “Looks like it’s going to be group therapy,” he says.

  Tanya appears behind me. I feel something sharp and metallic against the back of my neck.

  “There is a knife against your spine,” she says loudly. “If you move, I will paralyze you.”

  I can’t see her face, but her voice is steel, no trace of the Tanya who kissed me a moment ago.

  Mike says, “Program ahead, Program behind. What’s a traitor to do?”

  I can feel the pressure high on my neck, the blade touching flesh between my C1 and C2 vertebrae.

  Mike gestures to Tanya. “Bring him to me. Slowly.”

  She hesitates. “I have capture orders,” she says.

  “I’m overriding them,” Mike says.

  “They come directly from Mother.”

  “I’m the commander in the field,” Mike says. “Right now, my authority trumps hers.”

  “What are you planning to do with him?”

  “Not your concern,” he says. “I take full responsibility. Now bring him to me.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says.

  Tanya nudges me forward, and I resist.

  “Don’t fight me,” she says.

  She gets me moving with a knee to the back of my thigh.

  As the shock of Tanya’s betrayal fades, I focus on a way to disarm her. Mike must sense this, because his grip on Howard becomes a stranglehold.

  Howard chokes and looks at me, his eyes desperate.

  I take slow steps, allowing Tanya and her knife to set the agenda.

  “This is beautiful,” Mike says. “I should have known it would take a cute girl with a knife to bring you down. You love girls and you hate knives. It’s the perfect combination.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I say.

  “You don’t get it, do you? I tried everything to save you and bring you back to The Program. It’s your fault we’re here now.”

  Howard grimaces from the pressure Mike is putting on his neck.

  “You wandered, you deviated, you questioned,” Mike says. “Everything you’ve been trained not to do, you did. I thought it was growing pains, but no more.”

  “What do you think now?”

  “I think you’re broken, and broken things need to be discarded.”

  I continue to move toward Mike, prompted by Tanya’s knife.

  “You’re going to let him kill me?” I ask Tanya.

  Tanya whispers in my ear. “Trust,” she says.

  Mike knocks Howard to the ground.

  Tanya directs me forward, delivering me into Mike’s hands, her knife still at my neck. I’m within striking distance of Mike, but I do not make a move.

  Trust.

  Mike reaches for me. “Good job,” he says to Tanya.

  That’s when she strikes.

  She uses my body as cover to camouflage a knife attack against Mike. I feel the blade withdraw from my neck, then Tanya pushes me away as she simultaneously leaps forward, planting the knife deep in Mike’s side.

  He howls in rage and jumps back, grasping the handle of the knife that is inside him, using his flesh like a sheath to prevent Tanya from withdrawing the weapon and striking at him a second time.

  With his free hand, he pulls a gun from his pocket.

  Tanya freezes in place.

  I watch Mike’s gun barrel track from one of us to the next. Three shots, three kills. He’s more than capable of it.

  I assess the knife in Mike’s side, measuring the blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt. It is a survivable wound, high on his right quadrant. It may have punctured his lung, but nothing more.

  The wound has to hurt, but that will not stop someone like Mike.

  I know because it wouldn’t stop me.

  Mike stares at Tanya, his eyes glassy with pain. “What did Zach do to you?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” she says. “It was me. I made a choice.”

  “To leave The Program?”

  “Not exactly. It’s more like I chose him over you.”

  He looks from me to Tanya and back. Howard pulls himself up from the ground and stands by us.

  Mike says, “Bad things happen to the people who care about Zach. Friends, girlfriends. They have a habit of dying. But I’m sure he told you that, didn’t he?”

  I glance at Tanya, a plan communicated silently between us. I indicate for her to move left as I move right toward Howard. The more distance between us, the longer it will take for Mike to adjust and complete his shots, and the higher the survival percentage in this scenario.

  Mike says, “Come to think of it, there’s not a friend of yours who has survived a mission, is there, Zach? Except the mayor of New York. And he’s been in mourning since he met you.”

  The mayor trusted me enough to let me into his home, and he gave me his blessing to date his daughter. Now she’s dead, and his life is changed forever. Mike knows the story, and he’s rubbing my face in it.

  He wants me to suffer before I die. I will not give him the satisfaction.

  Mike brings up the pistol, preparing to fire.

  I jump away from Tanya, knowing that even though I will be shot, the added distance between us will increase her odds of survival as Mike resets for a second shot.

  I brace myself as I fall—

  But the gun does not go off.

  When I look back, Mike has disappeared.

  I glance over at Tanya. She’s as confused as I am.

  “Where did he go?” I say.

  “He disappeared through the bushes,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea,” she says.

  Tanya grabs Howard, checking him for injury.

  “I’m okay,” he says. “Just scared.”

  I run to the place where Mike was standing. There’s no trace of him.

  “Maybe he was hurt worse than we thought?” I say.

  “No, he could have fought with that wound,” she says. “It’s my fault. I went for a kill strike, but he moved at the last second and I missed the mark.”

  “You still saved our lives,” I say. “I figured either you turned, or you’d been lying to us all along.”

  “Did I scare
you?” she asks.

  “Not a chance,” I say.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” Howard says.

  “Thank you,” she says, pleased with herself.

  “What’s the plan?” Howard asks.

  I imagine Mike’s next move will be reporting back to The Program, maybe blowing the whistle on Tanya. If so, The Program will be after us with a vengeance.

  “I’m thinking we stick with the plan,” I say. “What about you, Tanya?”

  “I agree,” Tanya says. “Let’s get off the grid fast.”

  I kick open the storage shed, hoping to find camping supplies or outdoor survival gear. But there’s nothing we can use.

  “What now?” Tanya says.

  “It’s time to go shopping,” I say.

  THE ELECTRIC DOORS OF A KMART SLIDE OPEN.

  I’m hit by a wave of ice-cold department store air. Howard takes a deep breath.

  “Feels nice,” he says.

  “Don’t get comfortable,” I say. “We’re in and out of here as fast as possible.”

  I scan the floor. It’s a big Kmart, so it should have a decent selection of outdoor equipment, especially in this part of the state, which is filled with parks and hiking trails.

  “I’ll hit the camping section,” I say to Tanya.

  “Great. I’ll see what I can find in the self-defense arena. Howard, you want to come with me or stay with Zach?”

  She turns, but Howard is already disappearing down an aisle.

  “I’ll get him,” I say.

  She nods and moves quickly into the depths of the store.

  I look around, concerned for a moment, until I notice the sign for ELECTRONICS. If I know Howard…

  Sure enough, I find him standing in the television section, his attention focused on a wall of screens.

  “Hey, buddy, we have to get going,” I say.

  “Why are you on TV?” he says.

  I look at the TV monitors. My face is splashed across every screen, the words TEEN TERRORIST beneath it.

  The volume is muted, so I read the closed captioning running across the set:

  DANIEL MARTIN, 16, SUSPECTED IN THE BOMBING OF THE FEDERAL BUILDING IN BOSTON…

  Daniel Martin. That was my cover name on the last mission against Eugene Moore and his military-training camp.

  It’s The Program. They’ve leaked my picture to the press, accusing me of being one of the Boston bombers. For some reason they’ve gone public, burning my identity and making me the most sought-after fugitive in the country in the process.