by Tarah Benner
Harper arrives five minutes early. Even though I was expecting her, I’m still a little taken aback. She looks stronger than ever, but there’s a dark, wild look in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
As she gets closer, I can see they’ve been working her hard. She’s stripped down to her black tank top, and a few pieces of dark hair have fallen loose from her ponytail.
I try to get my thoughts in check, but it’s impossible. After watching over her every night in the medical ward, I’ve gotten used to relaxed, defenseless Harper. I’m unprepared to face Harper as I’ve grown to know her: tough, strong, and capable.
That Harper is way out of my league.
“Hey,” she calls when she gets within earshot. “How’s the leg?”
“It’s fine,” I say, even though it hurts like hell.
“How have you been?” There’s a cautious note in her voice that isn’t like her.
When she gets closer, I see that those restless nights have begun to take a toll. Her face is pinched with fatigue, and she’s developed deep grayish circles under her eyes.
“I’m surviving.”
“I’m sorry about this morning.”
I wave it off. I don’t want to talk about it, but of course that’s never stopped Harper.
“Jayden’s a bitch. But you know she only did that to get under your skin.”
“I know.”
“She’s just trying to provoke a reaction from you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, fighting a grin.
When did Harper get so smart? I knew Jayden was messing with me, but it never occurred to me that there may have been a deeper motive besides showing me who’s boss.
“She can’t keep you on the sidelines forever. Seamus is a horrible instructor.”
Her generous lie triggers a surge of hope inside me, but I dampen it quickly. “She can, and she will.”
“No. She’s desperate. Remy overruled her, and she doesn’t know what to do about the drifters.”
“That’s never stopped Jayden from getting rid of people who aren’t useful to her. She already tried to get rid of us once, and now she’s working on plan B.”
Harper swallows, fear bursting into her eyes. I instantly feel horrible for being so blunt. We never talked about what she said that first night I came to her room about her fear of the Fringe.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“Fine.”
I tilt my head in disbelief.
“I’m fine.”
“Cut the crap, Harper. How are you really doing?”
She drags in a shaky breath, trying to get her emotions in check. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” She glances over my shoulder to break eye contact. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Okay. But you can’t keep all that bottled up inside you, or it’s going to come out when you least expect it.”
“So I should talk about my feelings? Like you do, you mean?”
“No, not like me.”
She lets out a harsh laugh. “What do you care? I’m fine, okay? You’d know that if you came to see me.”
I bite back the retort burning on my lips. Of course she doesn’t know that I did come to see her, and I’m not going to tell her.
“I know you’re having nightmares,” I say before I can stop myself. “They haven’t stopped since we got back, have they?”
She looks taken aback and then defensive. “How would you know?”
“Oh, come on, Riley. You look like hell. I know you haven’t been sleeping worth a damn.”
“That’s none of your business. I’m dealing with it.”
“You’re not dealing with it at all.”
“What is your problem?” she snaps. “I can’t figure out who you’re supposed to be. When I see you here, it’s ‘Riley, get on the line,’ but out there . . .”
“What?” I’m feeling a little panicky for reasons I can’t explain.
“I don’t know! You act like a human being sometimes, and I almost forget what an asshole you are.”
That does it. All the rage and frustration building up inside me overflows, and I can’t hold it in anymore.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I yell before I can stop myself. “This is how I am, okay? I’m your commanding officer, Riley. I’m not Sawyer or Celdon. I’m not going to coddle you.”
“I don’t want you to coddle me!” she snaps. “I don’t want anything from you. Yes, I’ve had nightmares every night since we’ve been back. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I see the life leave his eyes. I see you getting shot, and then you die, and it’s just me out there. I’m afraid to go to sleep. Is that what you want to hear?”
I’m a little taken aback by her outburst, and I have the sudden urge to pull her into my arms. But I just stand there, hands hanging uselessly at my sides.
We stare at each other for several seconds, and Harper is the first to break eye contact. She looks as though she wishes she hadn’t just laid everything out there.
“I’m sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just . . . I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Harper snaps her eyes back onto mine. “Well . . . I’m not.”
I let out a growl and drag both hands through my hair. “Nobody should have to live like this.”
“Hopefully we’ll be out of here soon.”
I nod quickly so she thinks that was what I was talking about.
What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get it together, but ever since that night on the observation deck, I haven’t been able to shut out my thoughts of Harper.
She’s definitely not just my cadet. And after my talk with Miles, I can feel myself growing more and more reckless. This whole one-on-one training thing was a bad idea.
“So what’s the plan?” she probes.
“Miles can get me a fight,” I say, relieved the conversation has turned to something I can talk about.
Harper tilts her head to the side and fixes me with a skeptical, admonishing look that I find sexy for some inexplicable reason. “What kind of fight?”
“Probably against this guy Lopez . . . or someone else they think can beat me.”
She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “And can he? Beat you, I mean.”
I grin. “He could, but he won’t.”
“When is it?”
“Probably about two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” she repeats, looking aghast. “You won’t be healed by then.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“No, you won’t. I can’t let you do this.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh, unable to stifle a chuckle at the thought of Harper trying to stop me. She wouldn’t be able to hold me back any more than I could get her to drop her dangerous obsession with her bid.
“It still probably won’t be enough,” I say. “They’ll send us out again. You should be prepared for that.”
She fidgets and runs a hand over the top of her ponytail. “I can’t do it.”
Now it’s my turn to look skeptical. I know it’s insensitive to remind her that she doesn’t have a choice, so I don’t. But my expression gives it away.
“I won’t,” she says more forcefully. That wild look is back in her eyes, and as tired as she is, it makes her look slightly insane.
Taking a step toward her, I lower my voice and try to get through the barriers she’s scrambling to put up. “Hey. I’ll be healed by then. I won’t let them send you out with anyone else. We’ll get through it.”
“I can’t!” she snaps.
Her eyes quiver with unshed tears, and her breathing speeds up as she tries to get herself under control. Then something breaks inside her, and she can’t hold them in anymore. Tears leak out, and she wipes her eyes furiously.
“Every time I think about going back out there . . . I can’t breathe. It’s like someone is sitting on my chest, and I c-can’t get up. I keep seeing their faces, and every time I close my e
yes —” She breaks off, unable to get the words around a silent sob.
This time, I don’t think about it. I cross the distance between us and pull her against my chest.
To my immense surprise, she folds her arms around my torso and buries her face in my shirt.
Her whole body quivers as she sobs, and I lower us both to the ground to get the weight off my throbbing leg. With my back against the wall, I squeeze Harper around the shoulders. She nestles deeper into the side of my chest.
I stroke her hair and try to think of something to say, but there are no words to take away what she’s feeling. This is the cost of killing another human.
I know she hasn’t talked to anyone else about this, because there’s no one else who would understand.
Eventually her tears subside, and her trembling stops. She raises her head to look at me, and I realize I still have one arm locked around her shoulders. Even with bloodshot eyes and tangled hair, she looks beautiful.
I glance at her lips, which are parted ever so slightly. I think about that night on the observation deck — that night in my room — and remember what those lips feel like. They’re so close.
Right at this moment, there’s nothing I want more than to lean down and kiss her. I might be able to take her pain away — even if it’s only for a few seconds.
I swallow once to brace myself, but Harper is already pulling away and wiping her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to lose it on you.”
It takes a while for me to find my voice. “It’s okay. I understand. And you didn’t lose it. Losing it would be letting that change you.”
I don’t tell her that eventually, she will lose it. Eventually, it will change her just as it changed me. I don’t want that for her.
She gets to her feet with a fortifying breath and holds out a hand to help me up. I take it, but only because all this standing and moving is killing my leg.
We spend the rest of the afternoon on the simulation course, and I make it progressively more difficult for Harper. She had plenty of practice before the mission, but it doesn’t compare to shooting for real.
Now that she’s experienced the Fringe, she takes everything more seriously.
Every time she fires, the sound and the kickback hit her deep to the core.
I know she’s thinking about the last time she held a gun. I want to tell her we can stop, but the sooner she can numb herself to the horrible feelings it brings back, the better. The next time Jayden sends us out, we won’t be able to afford even the slightest hesitation.
By the end of the session, her timing has improved tremendously. She can aim, shoot, and reload faster, and she’s becoming a more accurate shot. Harper is exhausted, and I’ve worn myself out just by moving around all day. We wind down early, and I take her gun to return it to the weapons room.
“How have you been feeling?” I ask. “Physically, I mean.”
She gives me a confused look.
“Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Any headaches?”
“No.”
“Good. No radiation sickness, then.”
“What about you?”
“No. But I’ve never been sick.”
“Never?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been lucky, I guess. Miles had it bad once.” I shudder and realize I’ve fallen into step with Harper on my way to dinner.
It’s easy being around her — especially now that she’s stopped fighting every little thing. Climbing the stairs with one crutch takes everything out of me, but the exhaustion is enough to distract me from my worries.
“Did you hear?” she asks suddenly. “Jayden is sending out Lenny and Blaze in a month.”
I snap my head around so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “What?”
“Yeah. That’s all the time they’re giving them to finish training.”
I swear loudly and bang my fist against the wall. The pain radiates all the way up my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the rage flaring up inside me.
Harper looks alarmed, and I realized I’ve stopped on the bottom step just below the ground level. “Do you think Jayden would really send them out before they’re ready?”
“She might not have a choice. We’re losing men left and right,” I say, thinking of the AWOL Recon guys who were never found. “She probably just needs to fill the roster.”
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
But Harper’s still watching me as though she expects me to say I’ll take them out for their first deployments. Part of me wishes I could, but I have enough on my plate trying to make sure Jayden doesn’t send Harper out without me.
Lenny and Blaze may not be ready to go out there, but at least they don’t have Constance gunning for their death.
I tell myself I did everything I could. I trained them the best way I knew how. I tried to keep my distance. But Jayden will still send them out, and I’m going to lose my cadets even faster than I lost them last time.
I’ve been here too many times already. The sick feeling is almost familiar now.
Losing them will take one more bite out of my sanity, but their loss will be manageable compared to what I would feel if I lost Harper. I don’t think I could handle losing her, and it’s terrifying to realize that I might not be able to save her.
twelve
Harper
“I flipped him off.”
“You did not flip him off.”
Lenny cringes and nods, burying her rosy face in her hands and banging her head against the table.
“She didn’t just flip him off,” says Bear, looking from me to Lenny. “It was like a double-bird dance. She kind of, uh . . . danced out of the training center.”
I raise an eyebrow at Lenny. “You danced out of the training center while flipping Seamus off?”
Her huge green eyes appear momentarily, and she scoffs. “Yeah, you know. Like a ‘back it up’ type of dance.”
“Oh my god.”
“He said if I didn’t get my shit together, I’d be great target practice for the drifters.”
“He has been giving her a hard time in training,” says Bear. “He kind of deserved it.”
“Still! You better hope he’s too much of a coward to go to Jayden. You’d be in serious trouble.”
“Oh, whatever,” she growls, shoving her tray away from her. “What could they possibly do to me? They’re already trying to send me out to die. Seamus can suck it. I don’t even know how he manages to give orders with his head so far up Jayden’s ass.”
Bear and I exchange a look, and he bites back a laugh.
“You have to apologize,” I say. “Trust me, you don’t want to go pissing anybody off right now. Especially the guy who signs off on the tests that determine when you go out on the Fringe.”
Lenny groans. “I know, I know. He’s just such a . . . douchebag. I never thought I’d miss Eli, but at least he was a sexy douchebag.”
I choke on the sweet potato I’m eating and try to turn it into a laugh. Lenny elbows me in the ribs and raises her eyebrows suggestively and then gets up to dump her tray.
Bear follows her, and the two of them leave to go find Seamus.
As soon as they’re gone, Blaze scoots over to fill Lenny’s empty seat. Kindra already left to run the extra laps that Seamus assigned her, so it’s just the two of us sitting at the long table in the far corner of the canteen.
“I hope she apologizes,” he murmurs. “Things are bad enough as it is.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, shocked to hear Blaze speaking in full sentences. Most of the time, he just goes along with it when we complain and laughs at our jokes. He’s never contributed much to the conversation, but he’s nice to have around.
He glances down the table once and lowers his voice so I have to lean in to hear. “I heard Seamus and Jayden talking the other day. They didn’t mean for me to overhear, but . . . they were talking about sending me and Lenny out o
n a mission in a few weeks.”
A wave of nausea rolls over me. Judging by the look on his face, that isn’t the worst of it.
“What about Kindra and Bear?”
“They aren’t going to be deploying them.”
“Ever?”
He shakes his head. I should feel relieved, but the grave expression on his face just compounds my dread.
“With drifters in the cleared zone, I heard Remy wants Recon guarding the perimeter 24/7. Jayden plans on sending them out there on patrol shifts every day.”
“Every day?” I ask in disbelief. “But the radiation . . . constant exposure like that would kill them.”
“I know. But right now Remy only cares about protecting the compound, and Jayden doesn’t want to stop gathering intel, so . . .”
“So she’s going to start sacrificing cadets?”
“I guess she figures they wouldn’t be very useful out there anyway. She’s probably going to sell it to Remy as a safer alternative to combat for cadets who aren’t prepared.”
The thought makes me feel sick. The reason Recon operatives are only deployed one week per month is to prevent prolonged radiation exposure, and many still develop cancer in their twenties. But being sent out there day after day? I can’t even imagine the effect that would have.
“Don’t say anything to Bear and Kindra,” Blaze whispers.
“I won’t.”
They’re as good as dead anyway, I think. There’s no point ruining their last few weeks of relative peace.
When I leave the canteen, my head is spinning. Bear and Kindra might have better odds of survival staying within the cleared zone on patrol. But when they get sick, their death will be slow and painful.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Jayden would use her cadets as pawns. Her loyalty lies with Constance — not the soldiers she swore to protect and lead — but I never thought she’d give them a sentence worse than ExCon.
I feel mired in despair. No matter what I do, I can’t escape Constance. None of us can. Their sphere of influence knows no bounds within the compound, which is exactly why we have to leave.
I don’t notice where my feet are carrying me until I’m right at Eli’s door. I’m not sure why my first impulse is to tell him what Blaze told me, but I realize that’s what we do now. Whether I like it or not, Eli is my partner in crime.
