The fact that he knows something went wrong is both a good sign and a bad one. “Yes, sir.”
“Show me your badge.”
I turn to the side and point to my shoulder, revealing the emblem of the PRV army, accompanied by the official scout insignia, which is a picture of a rabbit wearing a helmet. Not entirely threatening, but rabbits are light on their feet and practically uncatchable. So far, I’ve fit that image.
“Are you alone?”
“No, I have others.”
“How many?”
I turn my eyes away from the light. It feels as if they’re burning through to the back of my head. “Can you turn those off, please?”
One by one, they blink out, but the blue, purple, and red spots floating in my vision prevent any semblance of clarity until my eyes readjust.
“That better?” The voice is friendlier now that I’ve identified myself.
“Yes, thank you.”
“How many? Just the people from your encampment?”
“No, sir. I’ve…we brought everyone we could. A thousand, maybe more.”
“A thousand you say? Hold there, Mathers. Better yet, approach the door.”
I offer a salute, though I’m not sure that he sees me. Near where the voice emanated, I see other silhouettes, but I can’t make out if they’re human or part of the wall. To my right, one of the shapes moves, and I have an answer. It’s a little scary, not being able to see them. Do they have weapons? Are they aiming at my head?
I jog cautiously up to the main doors. They’re immense. Twenty feet high and arched at the top and rounded where they join in the middle. I can’t imagine the man I’m talking to will be able to swing one of those open by hand. Once I’m closer, however, the shadows are deeper and my eyes eventually readjust, just in time to notice a smaller door inlaid within the large one.
I move over to it when I hear a noise like metal sliding against metal. It reminds me of the ancient files we used to sharpen our axe blades. Axes so old and sharpened so many times, they were worn down with little weight behind them.
Two lights flick on at the sides of each main door. They’re not as bright as the ones that were overhead, but still they hurt my eyes.
“No further,” he says. About head high, a dark face fills a square opening.
I stand up straight, click my heels together, and stiffen my body into rigid attention. It feels so awkward. We dispensed with these formalities years ago, but I know that here, now, it’s the right thing to do. I snap my hand up to my forehead, fingertips touching my right eyebrow. “Scout Mathers, sir. May I request your name and rank?”
“Sergeant Logan, and did I hear you right, Mathers? Did you say you had a thousand people with you?”
“Yes, sir. And…” I hesitate to tell him about James, Marla, and the rest of the Republicons.
“And what?”
In the end, I can’t do it. I can’t risk their lives. Oh, man, it hurts like someone has hit me in the stomach with a heavy tree branch, but I have no way of knowing how these people will react around a bunch of Republicons. Here, I’m simply a scout, and I have no power to sway their minds.
Instead of admitting that we were helped by a bunch of outlaws who will also be seeking protection, I say, “We’re coming for refuge, sir. We’ve come a long way. We need food and shelter. People are wounded and we’ve been running for days. I don’t know how much longer some of them can make it, especially some of the older ones who’ve been with us since the beginning.”
“You’re insane if you think we can take care of a thousand people, Mathers! We can barely—”
“Sergeant Logan, please—”
He raises his voice angrily and speaks over me. “Do not interrupt me when I’m talking, scout. This city can hardly manage itself, much less a thousand stragglers from as far north as Rafael’s Ridge. I don’t know if you’re hearing me, Mathers. We don’t have the room, or the food, or the supplies to support such an inconvenience.”
“An inconvenience? What are—my apologies. Permission to speak freely, sir.” I stand up as straight as I possibly can and hold my chin high.
“Proceed, Mathers.”
“Sergeant, they’re our people. They’re citizens of the Republic. We can’t abandon them, not now. I’ve brought them so far. Maybe I made promises that I shouldn’t have, but they’re expecting sanctuary, or at least someone to defend them.”
“Defend them? With what?”
“Sir, I—”
“Rocks? Twigs? Slingshots? You northern outpost idiots are all the same. Just because you can shoot a squirrel for dinner doesn’t mean we can take on an advancing army the size of that one coming down the road behind you.”
He points and I look over my shoulder. I can see more artificial lights. They’re closer, perhaps two miles, maybe more, and we’re running out of time.
“Can you at least allow us inside, sir? Even if it’s only for a little while. For one night, that’s all I’m asking. Give them a warm meal and a bed before they have to march back to the DAV. They deserve it. They’ve tried so hard. I promised them that much, and it’s the least we can do, even if it’s the only thing we can do.”
“Scout Mathers, you will return to your northern outpost at once and defend it with your life as you should have done. I am this close to tossing you into the brigade for abandonment—”
Logan yelps and his face disappears from the observation window. I hear a deeper, gruff voice scolding him. “What did I say, Logan? What did I say? Back to your post, worm.”
A chubby face with lighter skin, a mustache, and a thin beard replaces that of Sergeant Logan, though now I’m not entirely certain he was who he claimed to be.
The man says, “Who’re you?”
“Caroline Mathers, sir. Forward Army Scout of the People’s Repub—”
“Yes, yes,” he interrupts. “I can see that. You’ll have to excuse Logan. Just because we put him in charge of the wall, he thinks he’s running the whole city now.” He introduces himself as Brennan Targon, head of wall security and envoy to the president. “Did I hear him correctly, Mathers? You have a thousand people with you?”
I nod. “We’ve come so far. Please, let us in.” I’m practically pleading, and I know it’s unbecoming of an sanctioned scout to beg, but I can’t help myself. I’m not above dropping to my knees if it comes to that. I’ve been so strong for over a week. I’ve been a leader. People have looked to me for guidance, but here, in front of this door, with nowhere else to run and an approaching army behind us, I am powerless. “The blackcoats are almost here, sir. They have tanks.”
“I can see that.” He stares past my shoulder, pinches his lips together, then frowns. “Fine, Mathers, bring your people inside. One night won’t hurt and we’ll all be marching north tomorrow anyway. I suppose we could use help with the preparations. Can they work?”
“Some of them, maybe. We’re all exhausted and weak.”
He frowns and shakes his head. “Regardless, bodies are bodies. Hop to it, then. I ain’t got all night.”
The small, sliding window slams shut and from inside, the sounds of sliding bolts and squeaky hinges sound dull and distant as the immense door slowly swings inward.
I’m so relieved that I want to jump and squeal, clap my hands together like a little girl on her birthday, but at the same time, it saddens me to know that they’re not preparing to fight. It sounds as if the citizens of my capital have one more night of being free men and women before President Larson raises the white flag of surrender. There will be time for questions later, but I have to wonder why they chose to posture for so long. Why pretend when he knew they would have no chance against our northern enemies?
Once the door is fully open, I can see past the threshold. Directly inside is a low arching tunnel made of bricks, illuminated by small—I think they’re called bulbs—that cast circles of white onto the floor. There’s a stairwell to the right. Logan stands there, eyeing me with his arms crossed, fa
ce in a hardened scowl. I’d heard tales of those with dark skin, darker than the deepest tans of summer, but I had never seen them in person.
If he weren’t searing holes in my skin with his glare, he’d be…handsome. He’s much, much older than me, though, and must think I’m a foolish child when I offer him a white flag of my own—a sheepish smile. His nostrils flare and up the steps he goes, out of sight, probably back to his position along the wall.
It smells like wet, musty earth inside the tunnel and it’s so quiet that I can hear water droplets splashing off the floor. At least until Brennan Targon emerges from a door on the right, coughing into his hand. He’s large, almost as big as James, but he’s more civil-looking than my Republicon friend. Targon’s hair is cut short and there’s no visible separation from where his hair stops and the beard begins. It’s all one continuous unit.
I can see that he eats well. His cheeks, neck, and waistline hold the extra weight of someone that hasn’t spent years in the forest, chasing their next meal. His jeans are well kept and without holes in the knees. The green army jacket, which is too small for his frame, bears the crossed-rifles insignia of a captain.
I say, “Captain Targon, thank you,” and then salute him.
He shakes his head and yanks my arm down to my side roughly, but with no harm intended. He’s cautious and wary as he stares out the door, down the road toward the advancing DAV army. “Get your hand down, Mathers. I’d prefer it if a damn blackcoat sniper didn’t separate my head from my neck because you’re saluting an officer.”
I apologize and put my hands behind my back. Chin up, chest out, standing at attention.
Captain Targon asks, “Now where are your people? Can they get here before those bastards do?” He points with his chin. “That door will be open for another thirty minutes and that’s all.”
“That’s plenty enough time, sir.” I’m not sure that it is, but what choice do I have? If we have to, if it becomes necessary, I suppose that Finn and I can make use of our Kinder abilities and carry the stragglers. That’s not something I wanted to reveal so soon, yet if it means keeping the ill and the frail safe, then so be it. I figure they will find out soon enough.
“Good then. Go. The least we can do is give our citizens one night in a warm bed like you asked. Thirty minutes, Mathers, then the door closes. On with you.”
I thank him, lift my arm to salute and then catch myself at the last moment. Instead, I pretend to push a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I stop outside the gates, wasting precious seconds, and observe the approaching DAV army, wondering how much damage Finn and I could do before Warrenville rolled over and exposed its belly.
If Targon, Logan, and the rest of them aren’t going to fight to protect their lives, their city, and their freedom, maybe someone should do it for them.
Chapter 3
Once I’m back in the dark, covered in shadows, I hurtle down the road in a blur and then sprint toward the northwest. It only takes me seconds, but I can see that the others have made it a good distance from where I left them last. They’ve slowed their pace, allowing those that can’t run as fast to stay within sight. It worries me that we might not all make it within the thirty minutes that Captain Targon has given us, but we should make it. Possibly.
Finn is up at the front of the pack with James. They’re yelling words of encouragement, waving their arms, urging everyone to move as rapidly as they can.
Finn sees me approaching, as does James, and they step out of the horde’s way.
“They’re letting us in?” Finn asks.
“Yeah, but we only have thirty minutes and then the doors are closing.”
“We can make it.”
James says to me, “Did they say anything about…us?”
“I…I didn’t tell them.”
“What? Why?” James steps backward and hangs his head in acceptance. “So that’s it, then? This is goodbye?”
“For now,” I say.
“You did what you had to do, I guess.” I can tell he’s disappointed.
“They weren’t going to let us in. They weren’t, and if I had said we had a group of Republicons with us, they would’ve slammed the door in my face. I’m not abandoning you, not because of who you are. You’re my friends, and yes, I should’ve tried, just in case, but you weren’t even sure yourself and—and I have to think for the whole group. And besides…” I hate to mention this part because it makes it seem as if everything we’ve been through is pointless, that it was all wasted effort. “They’re giving us one night, that’s it, and then they’re surrendering in the morning.”
“No,” Finn says, trailing the word out. “They can’t.”
James puts his finger in my face. “They can give up, but we aren’t.”
“Good. I know. That’s what I was thinking on my way back. Finn and I can fight. Maybe we can turn them back, at least for a while, and then—” I have an idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. “Right! Don’t give up! We can find some clothes. We’ll make you look like you’re one of us, not Republicons. You’ll be safe for the night.”
“That’s not what I meant, Caroline.” James’s voice is low, somber. His eyes droop and his shoulders sag. “We knew it would come to this. I did, at least. We were never going to be welcome inside those gates. Never. I can’t take that risk with their lives. Not now. We’ve been free for decades. Some of them were born free.”
“But—”
“No buts. If we step inside those gates, they’ll hang us for treason if they discover who we are. And if they don’t, the blackcoats will have us in chains along with the rest of your lot. I can’t do it, Caroline. I can’t. We don’t have a choice.”
“Stay with us,” I beg, grabbing his sleeve, regretting my decision not to include them earlier. “Help us fight. It’s your land, too. We’ll talk to them. We’ll make them see that defending what’s theirs is the right thing to do.” I try to keep the tear from dripping down my cheek. It doesn’t work.
James caresses my hair. “I wish it was that easy. I really do. But you don’t see, Caroline. Not everything. We’ll go. We have to. We’ll run, we’ll hide, and we’ll fight to defend what’s ours out there.” He points at the forest, then at the city walls and adds, “What’s in there isn’t ours. It never was and it never will be. Does that make sense?”
I start to speak and then nod instead. He’s right. They’ll never be accepted. It was childish of me to think I could change the minds of grown men. I can’t reverse a hundred years of thinking in a single night. I lean into him and wrap my arms around him as far as they’ll go. My fingers barely touch at his back. He squeezes me, tells me not to cry as I thank him over and over.
“We wouldn’t have made it without you,” I say, pulling away from him. “I want you to know that. It’s the truth.”
He leans down. He’s so tall, it seems like it takes him forever to get to me. He kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you in another life.”
“Promise?”
James smiles. “Lead like you were meant to do.” He backs away, moving over to the throng of jostling bodies, offers one last wave, and then shouts, “Republicons! Marla! Squirrel! Find the Blakes and the rest and follow me.”
The last I see of James, through my blurred, watery vision, is his massive shoulders high above the others as he shoves through the current of bodies and the pounding rain.
Marla calls over to me and waves goodbye. Squirrel does the same. I can’t see the others but I know they’re gone.
Finn puts his arm around my shoulders. “Do you really think they’re gone? For good?”
“Let’s go,” I say. “We don’t have much time left. Everyone needs to be inside before the gates close.”
We run. We rush. We lift. We carry.
Everyone makes it with time to spare, but not much. Captain Targon shouts from the doorway, urging people inside, to hurry, to head straight down the tunnel and into the open courtyard beyond.
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I’m the last one. I glance behind me. In the distance, the DAV army has come within a mile of Warrenville. Darkness has fallen and the only thing I can see is the lights as they approach. What if Captain Targon is wrong? What if we don’t have until morning and they use the cover of night to overrun the city? Is the promise of another twelve hours of freedom too much to ask?
“Get in here, Mathers,” Captain Targon orders. “Door’s closing in three…two…”
“Coming.” I dash inside and help him pull it closed. He turns some levers and knobs on the side, and giant bolts fall into place, some into the flooring, some into the walls.
“They’re not getting through there unless they knock the walls down,” he says, which makes me think that he shouldn’t tempt fate.
Finn is nowhere to be seen, and I assume that he’s up with the others, trying to help organize a confused crowd.
Captain Targon informs me that they called in some extra soldiers to direct our people to the proper places. He says they don’t have beds for a thousand people, but they do have empty warehouses with wooden pallets that can be used. Blankets, too, that have been stored away because what remains of the army hasn’t needed them in ages. “They might be a bit dusty or maybe full of spiders, but I checked and they’ll last for a night. At least they’ll be off the ground and out of the rain. I’m sorry, Mathers, but that’s the most we can do.”
“Any food to spare?”
“Bread, I suppose. It’s not every day that the city is overrun with refugees, especially with a war on the way. I’m sure you understand that we’ve had to direct our last supplies to the places that matter.”
From the looks of his waist, I assume he means it all went to the people in charge, the ones who control the flow of goods and greed.
I thank him and try not to allow the pity for my charges to overtake me. If I do, I’ll crumble into a heap of regret on the floor. They’ve come so far. They’ve tried so hard. Over and over again I have promised them safety, meals and beds, freedom and security, but what do they get? One night in an abandoned warehouse with stale bread to eat and dirty, moth-ridden blankets for comfort. I ask myself again, was it all worth it? Should we have stayed where we were so the march north, back to the DAV territory, wouldn’t have been so long?
A Pawn's Betrayal Page 2
