Vi will return from her dinner tonight to find our room empty. They’ll need a good story to satisfy my skeptical friend. I hope she’ll believe it for her sake, and Kaleb’s stance becomes real. He hoped his end would bring me a new beginning as well. My stomach clenches at what it must have done to him to force away the only person who saw him. To imagine me transferring my love to another man because he wasn’t allowed to accept it.
Facts.
I blink up at the ceiling. Facts.
These compounds are a strange setup: military bases combined with refugee centers. Strange before the war, that is. Neither side had the chance for an organized response when the fighting broke out a decade ago, so makeshift attempts at survival have resulted in all kinds of strange. Strangest of all how neighbors became enemies overnight. How the rebellion that started in Region 10 has spread into a full-fledged Resistance capable of matching government forces.
Fact: the current enemy appears to be Sergeant Max Dennel. Well, Max Dennel now. I doubt he still has his rank.
Then, it all comes together in a maddening blur.
Dennel was there when Kaleb was taken the first time. By all accounts Kaleb had sacrificed himself for his friend, but what if that was the plan all along? What if while Kaleb was being a noble friend, Dennel had orchestrated the worst kind of betrayal? The thought makes me sick. I start to develop other theories.
Theories like, it was a terrible accident. Dennel was the leak but never intended for his friend to pay the price. He thought he could play both sides. After all, it was working okay until I gave him the heads-up about the coming witch hunt, and he no longer had a choice. Game over.
And here we are.
I pull the blanket tight around my shoulders. Kaleb has only one ally he can trust. Me. And I will give my life to prove it.
I choose Kaleb Novelli.
When I first agreed to protective custody, I had visions of flurried blueprint-scanning, briefings, and plotting. Animated debates over steaming cups of coffee. Pens flying across the room. Instead, the term “top priority” means something different to them than it does to me.
I spend the following hours in my room, staring at the ceiling or trying to read. Thinking, always thinking. I call Henry frequently and share my theories so he can register a polite response and promise to consider them. Soon my calls turn from helpful to hostile.
“I didn’t agree to this so I could sit here in solitary confinement. It’s been four days! I thought I was supposed to be part of this.”
I wait for the inevitable deflection I’ve heard so many times.
“I’ll be honest with you. We’re not hiding anything. The truth is, we have nothing.”
“You have nothing? How’s that possible?”
“The rebels haven’t reached out to us although this time we have hope they will make some kind of demand. They know how valuable he is.”
“To you or to them?” I know I struck a nerve when he doesn’t respond right away.
“I’m trying to give you hope.”
“I don’t want hope. I want to find Kaleb!”
“I know.”
“Please, just let me do something. Anything but sit here.”
“What’s that?” Henry mumbles before he mutes our connection. “I have to go,” he tells me after returning. The line goes dead, and I pound my fist against the wall in frustration.
Henry’s promise comes as a summons to one of the planning rooms I’ve been waiting to see. I can tell I’m finally being included in something important because of all the screens, boards, and drawings coating the surfaces.
That hope splinters when I realize we’re facing another screen.
“Thanks for joining us, Andie,” Henry begins. Emery is also present along with a few other faces I don’t recognize. Henry introduces them, but their names don’t register.
“We’ve heard from the rebels. They sent us this video message last night.”
My blood thumps at the masked face that appears before us, then stops when Kaleb comes into focus behind him. Tears betray my strength at the sight of him bloody, stripped to the waist, and bound to a chair.
“Round Two isn’t proving to be any more successful than Round One. You make tough soldiers, Emery, I’ll give you that.”
My eyes shoot to the Captain who has a hard look on her face. I force myself to turn back to the screen.
“You had the chance to end this. Hey, Novelli, do you have anything to say? How about a thank you for the hero’s welcome you got?”
Kaleb glares through swollen eyes, but remains silent. I choke when I catch a glimpse of the small red pool on the floor below his hands. Razor wire.
“Anyway, just thought you’d like a preview.”
The man presents a device to the camera before turning and approaching Kaleb. With little ceremony, he presses the object against his bare chest, holding it steady for several seconds as Kaleb jerks and screams.
I’m crying now, or screaming.
The masked man stops his assault and surveys the scene. Kaleb’s labored breathing reaches through the screen to melt my joints. Fucking agony freezing me in a volcano as the rebel returns to the camera.
“You know how this story goes because you’ve read it already. The difference is we’ll keep you in the loop this time. We’re both learning from each other, right? Let’s work together on this. You’re move.”
And the screen goes dark.
The room is silent. I’m sure they’ve seen the video before, probably had countless discussions. Analyzed every word and image, but they can’t talk strategy when there’s a witness present who sees their X as a person. If they can’t talk strategy, they have nothing to say.
“Andie?”
Henry is speaking. I don’t know why.
He and Emery exchange a look. Kaleb is a mission. I see that now more than ever. The love of my life is a fucking case file to these people.
Henry sighs. His eyes soften as he lowers himself beside me. “I know how hard this must be, but you have to understand…”
“Understand? Understand what? Why should I try to understand anything when you’ve done nothing but betray him as much as the rebels? What are we fucking doing about this?”
Emery is not as well-acquainted with my frustration. “Ms. Sorenson, while we can certainly understand your reaction given the difficult nature of what we just saw, you need to remember your place. You are a guest in this room, nothing more. That status can be easily changed.”
I glare at her, hating that she’s right. I’m so angry I’m sure my fire could blister that whole damn strategy board to ash. But I chose Kaleb, which means forcing myself to draw in a deep breath when I want to detonate.
She continues. “You should know, that while they did issue demands, we can’t meet them.”
I blink. “What?”
They share another non-discreet glance.
“What are their demands?”
“You are all dismissed,” Emery says to the useless task force. We wait as they collect their stash of folders, gadgets, and notes. Once we’re alone, Emery levels me with a look.
“Andie, there’s more. It makes the demands irrelevant.”
“Okay?”
“We know where they are this time. They’re not trying to hide.”
“What?”
“They learned from their mistakes. They don’t hide in the woods anymore.”
“So let’s get him!”
“That’s a tempting thought, but it’s not possible. They’re somewhere in Zone 492, Region 12 which is heavily populated by civilians.”
“And we can’t go around them? There’s no special ops team or something?”
“It’s not that simple. We don’t know which building or who we’re even looking for. It’s not like the aggressors wear un
iforms to distinguish themselves from civilians or have signs on the buildings they occupy. Without information it’s not only irresponsible but pointless.”
Those two words make me burn. Rescuing Kaleb: irresponsible and pointless. Facts, damn facts, because she’s right.
“Then we need a spy.”
“A spy? It would take us weeks to plan a mission and commission an agent. Kaleb doesn’t have weeks. He has days if not hours.”
“Okay, then send me. The paperwork can’t be as strict for a nobody refugee.”
“Not possible.”
“I was born and raised in 12-489. Let me go home and find him for you.” My pulse hammers at the thought. Adrenaline gushing, but I’m a soldier in my own war now.
“Andie, you’re a civilian. We can’t do that. Zones 163 through 572 of Region 12 are fully controlled by the rebels at this point. That’s why we brought you here as they were moving in.”
“I get that, but it sounds to me like you need a civilian a lot more than you need a soldier right now. I don’t need training and debriefing on how to be a native to that area. I am one.”
I have their attention. I just need to keep it.
“What else are you going to do with me?”
I lean forward, allowing every bit of the emotion raging inside me to flood onto my face.
“Please, let me do this. Let me find Kaleb. You have nothing to lose except one more mouth to feed.”
I have a point. A really good one, and I’m not surprised when they abruptly send me back to my room.
“Kaleb, why do you never talk about your father?”
His eyebrows rise along with a hard stare. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Asking intrusive questions.”
“I know. It just seems odd.”
“My father is dead.”
“So is mine, but I still—”
“No, Andie.” His gaze slices into me. “No.”
It’s strange how a room can change even when it’s exactly the same. The task force conference room holds no hope anymore, only dread that the screen on the far wall is going to rip my heart out. But it remains dark this time as Emery waves me into a chair.
“Are you committed to searching for Kaleb?”
Folders are spread over the table. Photos, maps, diagrams. An entire spy movie crash course.
“Very.”
She shoves one toward me. “Start reading through these. We don’t have time to train you, but we believe that will be an advantage. This won’t work if the rebels suspect you’re anything other than an innocent woman from 12.”
I scan the contents of the folder and determine it contains briefings about military activity in my home region.
“You will need to prove you’ve lived in occupied territory these past months, not in one of our compounds.”
Photos that could be the rubble of my block are stacked in painful evidence of the world I no longer know. I force conscious breaths to combat the tremble of my fingers as they trace the carnage. Are my belongings in there? My clothes, my memories? A caption tells me this is Zone 223. “What do I do when I find him?” The words come out with deceptive calm.
“Nothing. If you learn Novelli’s location, you are to do nothing.” That finally snaps me back to the present battle.
“But—”
“Andie, you are not trained for extraction. Most of the task force disagrees with my decision to let you go in the first place, but I understand your position. If the roles were reversed, I’d want to fight for him too. We have nothing to lose at this point, so if you want to risk your life for your friend, I am not going to stop you.”
I meet her gaze and search for any reason not to believe her. But this “normal” is all lies. It doesn’t matter why I’m being released. I’m not doing it for them. This is for Kaleb. For me, because my future contains Kaleb whether Fate agrees or not.
“There’s one more thing,” she says, stalling my new filing project. “Your roommate.”
“Vi?”
“Viktoria, yes. She’s become quite the thorn in our side since we brought you here.”
I grip my folders. “She cares about me.”
“Clearly. And Kaleb too, we’ve learned.”
“Please don’t hurt her. Please, Captain.”
“Hurt her? Is that what our patience and understanding has taught you?” Yes. “No. Viktoria will be joining you in an hour. She’s going with you.”
Wishes and fantasies have a deceptive relationship. Fantasy is free. Wishes hold responsibility, guilt that you’ve linked someone else’s fate to your own. I feel crushed under the burden of souls I hold as I rest my head against a cold jeep window. The dark landscapes are invisible in the black night but I still see the devastation in my head. Feel it in my veins with each thud of fear. There are no lights in this wasteland separating the warring strongholds, not anymore at least. At one point there were towns here, but these people were forced to choose sides as well. Choose and flee. Or be chosen like I had been.
Vi breathes heavily beside me, and I’m jealous of her ability to sleep. At first, I’d been shocked at their decision to send her with me. Include yet another civilian on a mission they questioned in the first place? It was absurd, but Vi helped carve her own path. She didn’t buy their lie about a “transfer,” and eventually became so disruptive they agreed that making her my problem was better than keeping her locked up as theirs. Vi didn’t even blink when she was told what happened and presented with the choice to go with me. And here we are. New axis, same twisted game.
We’re coming to find you, Kaleb. Hold on. Please, just hold on.
I’ve been talking to him lately, sending my desperate thoughts into the air so he can breathe in their hope. It’s stupid, but I need him in my head now. It’s been seven days since his abduction, three since the first video, and hours since the second they showed us last night. After seeing both, I know what that means. Every additional second is another spin of the roulette revolver, and I have to shut off my brain at what the rebels could do with seven days’ worth of seconds. Strangely, the horror gives me strength to manage my own terror at the impending reunion with the world I left.
My gaze shoots to my left when Vi stirs, but she does nothing to indicate she’s awake. It’s better that way. We’ve been reluctant to strategize or discuss anything in the presence of the soldiers she trusts even less than I do. We’ll have plenty of time for that. From this point on, the path to Kaleb is on us.
“This is it,” the soldier announces, pulling to a stop by a vandalized road sign. “You’re about four miles east of Zone 398, Region 12. I can’t go any farther.”
Vi and I exchange a look before turning back to the darkness taunting us through the glass. I don’t read the same fear in her but then maybe I’ve hidden mine well too. Who knows what ghosts hide in the darkness?
“Remember, should you discover the location of Lance Corporal Novelli, you are to contact the number given to you and stand by for further instructions. Don’t do anything else. Do you understand?”
He can’t see my nod and mumbles in frustration. “Fucking waste of time. Hello? Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. We get it,” I hiss out loud this time. I hope my own irritation is well-documented by this asshole. It helps with my courage. “Let’s go,” I direct to Vi who follows my lead and pushes through her door.
The soldier hesitates another moment. Then he puts the jeep in gear and screeches away.
“Not much of a team player, is he?” Vi says.
“I doubt facilitating the escape of two civilians in the middle of the night was the reason he enlisted.”
I sense a sudden shift in Vi’s mood, and know exactly how she feels. The soldier, the journey, the weakening hum of a jeep were all distractions, a veil prote
cting our consciousness from the gravity of what we’ve agreed to do. Now, alone in the dark it’s time to accept our mission.
“You ready?” I ask to break the silence before it breaks us.
“Let’s do it.”
I start along the edge of the road. A blistering wind assaults our jackets as we walk. I clasp my hood and shift the weight of my survival pack. The stench of decay permeates the air. This must be an old battleground because the scent is bearable. New death is impossible to breathe.
We barely see our next steps, but we don’t dare to use the lights in our packs. We have to wait until we pass the intersection with Route 33 and can claim we’re refugees from Zone 63, Vi’s home. My own zone 489 has been occupied by the rebels since right after government troops moved through the neighborhood, so we can’t use that as a cover. It wouldn’t make sense to flee from one rebel Zone to another.
Vi spends our walk describing 63. It’s better for us to lie as little as possible in order to keep track of our story, so we stick with the truth that I’m originally from 489 but was visiting Vi in 63 when we were forced to flee. We’ve been looking for a place to settle ever since.
“How did you end up in 9B anyway?” I ask.
“I was visiting 405 when the soldiers came.”
“Wow. What about the rest of your family?”
She shrugs.
“Have you been to 492?” I try.
She hesitates. “A few times.”
I want to ask more but sense it’s not a safe topic. As much as I understand her character, I know very little about her past.
“We need to talk about the footage of Kaleb from the Free Forces,” she says, changing the subject. I like this one even less.
“Which video? The first one where they were torturing him, or the second where they were stitching him back up.”
Traitor Page 17
