We all sat down on a nearby log and took turns eating the syrupy fruit. I had one, but passed on the rest, leaving it for the boys to enjoy. Cody took one as well, but he nibbled at it halfheartedly while his eyes surveyed the forest. I could see the gears turning in his mind, and knew he was trying to calculate some sort of escape into the forest.
I leaned over. “Think you could make it?” I whispered teasingly, and his head snapped around, his eyes wide in alarm. “Hey, it’s okay,” I tried to reassure him, and he softened a little. He lowered his gaze back down to the ground, and fidgeted slightly.
Tim and Jay shifted beside me, and then stood up. I looked up at them, and Jay nodded toward the wider part of the clearing. “We’re going to go play catch with Samuel. Cody? Want to come play with us?”
Cody looked up at them for a long moment, studying them. It was like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop—maybe he wanted it to. If one of us lost patience or got angry, it would only confirm what he believed to be the truth about us: that we were the bad guys.
I gave them a nod, indicating they should go ahead alone. Their shoulders slumped in disappointment, but they went, shifting through the thick blanket of leaves toward the other side of the clearing. I watched Jay bend over and pick up a stick, and before he could even whistle, Samuel bounded over, his tail wagging in excitement.
They threw the stick for him a few times, and I smiled when Tim said something to Jay that made him start laughing. A quick glance at Cody told me he was watching as well, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying the picturesque scene as much as I was. Instead, he seemed to resent it, judging by the sour downturn of his mouth.
I sighed and leaned back. Each one of these outings seemed to have the opposite effect of what I had hoped for. Dr. Arlan said it was too early to judge whether any such methods were completely effective or not. We just had to remain patient.
“Can I please see Desmond?”
It was the first time he had asked me that question. Unfortunately, our camp was too small to keep her capture and imprisonment a secret, and Cody had learned about it the first night. Although we hadn’t heard about it until the next day, when Dr. Arlan had marched in to give us an earful about it.
“We talked about this, Cody. I’m sorry, but no—you can’t see her.”
Cody gave an irritated sound and turned his back to me.
“I hate you.” The words were barely a whisper, but in the still of the forest, with him right beside me, I could hear them.
“That’s okay,” I replied softly. Gently. “You’re entitled to your feelings.”
He turned, cocking his head up at me and squinting. “What’s ‘entitled’ mean?”
Hesitating a second to ponder the best way to explain, I looked up at the light gray sky. “Entitled means… that it’s something you were born into. When I use it to talk about your feelings, what I mean to say is that you are allowed to feel however you want.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Doesn’t it make you angry that I hate you?”
I shook my head at him, and then met his gaze. “It just makes me feel sad.”
He frowned then and looked away, considering this. I continued to watch Tim and Jay play, but my attention was focused on Cody. I kept hoping he would say something back, but he didn’t. He just sat there, staring off blankly, deep in thought. After a while, I stood up and waved Tim and Jay over.
“Cody?” I said softly, and he looked up, as if surprised to see me still standing there. “It’s time to go.”
12
Violet
Tiffany’s round face filled the screen set up against the wall separating the kitchen from the den area where we were keeping Desmond. I frowned when I took in her face, noting the dirt smudges over her button nose and the wild tangle of her light brown, corkscrew curls, which looked like they hadn’t been brushed in days. The bags under her autumn-brown eyes were tinted with blue, clearly indicating that she hadn’t been getting any sleep, but her eyes were wide and jumpy, only looking at the screen periodically while constantly surveilling her environment.
“Tiffany, are you safe?” Ms. Dale asked from where she was seated, a pen and paper in her hands.
“Not really,” she said, her voice brimming with the distress of raw nerves. “Nobody on the streets right now is safe.”
Even as she said it, the sound of automatic gunfire wafted in through the speakers, and I watched as she ducked her head down even farther.
“What’s going on out there?” Amber asked.
“It’s bad, and I’m sorry for not being able to keep proper contact. I’ve been having to move around a lot.”
“Why? Are the Matrians after you?” Thomas leaned forward in his seat, his eyes regarding the screen intently.
“What? No. No, it’s weird, actually. The Matrians have pulled back their forces. They haven’t been in the city for days. Well, except for one area.” She looked away from the camera, and then there was a shuffling sound as the camera jerked around. A few seconds later, her face was back. “Sorry, I dropped it. I thought I heard something, but it was a cat.”
“What do you mean ‘one area’?” Ms. Dale cut in sharply.
“Wait,” I said, taking a step forward. “Let’s just slow this down a bit. Tiffany, what is going on in the city? Start at the beginning.”
Tiffany’s round face froze for a second, and then she nodded. “Right, well, from what I’ve pieced together, your video got to every stadium around the city. The Matrians tried to kill anyone who saw it, but there were just too many people for them to handle—and the attack pushed them over the edge. Rioters took to the streets, setting fires and targeting any Matrians they could find. They’d kill them, take their guns, and then use them to kill the next group. By the morning, several troops of Matrian wardens were killed. Then, during the day, the wardens retaliated. They fired guns into apartment buildings and into crowds of scared people on the street, before racing away. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.
“The guard posts they set up leading in and out of the city have been turned inward, and are now preventing people from leaving. But most of the Matrian forces have been spotted leaving the city, save for a handful who got surrounded and caught up at the water treatment plant. Everything seemed like it might calm down once they left, but that’s when people figured out that they weren’t allowed to leave. And when the power went out?” Tiffany’s face fell, her large eyes luminous with unshed tears. “Then people just started fighting each other. Everyone’s trapped in here, Violet. And they’re scared, and they’re armed, and they’re violent. Gangs have been staking out territories, making it difficult to move through the city unless you’re part of a larger, more armed group. Women are getting grabbed off the street by a faction of the Porteque gang, and they’ve staked out a bunch of apartment buildings on the south side of the city. Other gangs are cropping up left and right, fighting for territory and food.”
“Tiffany, how did you come by this information?” Ms. Dale’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously at the screen.
She blinked and then licked her lips. “Well, I managed to locate some people who… well, they’re not a gang. They’re rebels.”
“What, pray tell, is the difference?”
“The rebels are trying to help the people,” Tiffany replied without the slightest pause. “They provide safe zones, forage for food, and keep guard over the people who can’t fight. They are more organized than the gangs, and they’ve been focusing most of their fighting on the Matrian forces. There were more groups in the early days, but the three I am in contact with now are the largest in the city.”
That was interesting. I took a step closer to the table, pressing in between Thomas and Amber. “What can you tell us about them?”
“Well, they were operating independently of each other. I, uh, actually sort of got them talking about unifying, but there are… some political differences that are being hashed out.”
“Political differ
ences?”
“Just ideas on how they want to proceed after they get the Matrians out. It sounds stupid, I know, but they don’t want to unify unless they are all on the same page with how things would be handled in the aftermath.”
“That is literally what putting the cart before the horse means,” scoffed Amber, tossing her head, her mop of red curls dancing.
“I know, I tried to tell them that, but… yeah.” Tiffany’s face was a resigned mask that only made her look even more exhausted. I admired the way she was holding it together, all things considered.
“Is any one of the leaders looking like they are going to be the leader? You know—the one that the others defer to?” Viggo had stepped in behind me, and I leaned back against him as he spoke, enjoying the solid feel of him.
“Mags,” replied Tiffany, once again automatically. “It’s strange, I know, but she is magnificent. And terrifying. She’s not very tall, but she is a whole lot of mean. Well, not mean, exactly, but direct. Painfully so. I’ve never quite met anyone like her.”
“I like her already,” said Ms. Dale, an unusually smug grin on her face. “Could always use a few more girls filled with piss and vinegar around here.”
I chuckled at Ms. Dale’s quip. I had to admit, I liked the sound of this Mags too. I was just curious about all of the… political discussions that these newly minted rebels were having. They were already constructing plans for afterward, but as far as I knew, our group had never even talked about it. Then again, I’d never thought that after might come this quickly.
“Do you think they’d be willing to meet with us?” asked Viggo. “So we can talk about us breaking the Matrian blockade together? If we pooled our resources, then maybe we could help achieve both our goals.”
I looked at Viggo and smiled. His eyes were glued to the screen, giving it his full attention as he waited for Tiffany’s reply. Her frown deepened. After a moment, she inhaled. “I might be able to arrange it, but I would need to reveal key bits of information. Namely the fact that we’re holding King Maxen prisoner.”
“Are you asking for permission?” asked Ms. Dale.
“Yes.”
“If you think it will help prove who we are, then do it.”
Nobody objected to Ms. Dale’s directive, not even Thomas. It was a calculated risk, but one worth taking if it got us allies inside the city.
“I’m on it,” Tiffany said. “I’ll try to send you a message in twelve hours.”
“Good luck,” I said, right before the screen shut off.
“Do you really want to go into the city?” asked Amber, turning in her chair to look at Viggo.
“I do. The people there need help, and I think if we can break this Matrian blockade, then we can start getting things calmed down.” Viggo’s voice was firm, brimming with conviction. I knew he was worried about the people trapped inside, and feeling more than a little responsible for their predicament.
“Has anyone considered why they are keeping people from leaving the city?” asked Thomas. “To me, that is the more critical question.”
“If I had to guess, then I’d say it’s to buy time while Elena finds another way to subdue the populace. Knowing her, she’s trying to do it as efficiently as possible.” Ms. Dale’s mouth was pinched as she spoke, and I could practically taste her disdain.
We all fell silent for a moment, and then Ms. Dale sat upright, her back going ramrod stiff. I recognized her posture: she had just had a thought. “The water treatment plant,” she said. Turning, she speared Thomas with a look. “Do you have the blueprints for that?”
“I do, but why? Tiffany said that the Matrians had taken refuge up there after being cut off from the retreating forces. They’re probably waiting for a rescue team, or possibly even an evacuation.”
Ms. Dale shook her head, a line forming between her eyebrows. “For over twenty-four hours? I don’t think so—they’re going to do something to the water.”
“Are you joking?” exclaimed Thomas, his lips twitching in what I presumed was humor. It was hard to tell, rarely having seen it in Thomas before. “The plant is almost impossible to tamper with. I researched this in painstaking detail when I was looking into ways to dismantle Patrian systems, and I estimated it would take a minimum of forty soldiers. And even then, they would need three to four days before they could do anything to the drinking water. It’s not possible.”
“Did you ever tell Desmond this?”
“Of course I did, I… Oh.” Thomas’s face fell as he settled back into the chair he’d been gradually inching forward in. “I see what you mean now.”
“There’s an easy way to figure this out,” announced Viggo loudly, his voice cutting through the room, challenging. “We merely need to ask the woman in the next room. And, as far as I know, her dose of sedative should be wearing off soon.”
I looked at the people around me for their reaction: this was part of the fight that we kept having amongst ourselves. Viggo wanted to use Desmond for information while we were forced to keep her captive. Many of us just wanted her dead. I was torn over the decision, every fiber of my being wanted Desmond dead. But I didn’t want to have to play executioner. And I didn’t want her people to hurt the boys.
Ms. Dale sighed, settling back into her chair, her fingers and thumbs digging into her temples. I knew what she was thinking. I felt the same way: Desmond was never going to talk. Keeping her around was jeopardizing us all. Even unarmed and chained in the next room, she still had use of her most lethal weapon—her mouth. “Viggo,” she said, “we’ve gone over this.”
I worried about having Dr. Arlan in with her. He had zero experience with her, which meant that if she could, she would find a way to lure him in and try to gain his trust. Which was why I had insisted that Dr. Arlan never be left alone with her. Bad enough she was here, but I would be damned if I let her get her hooks into any of our people. These people were more than just fellow rebels who’d had their lives torn apart by Elena and Desmond. They were becoming my friends. And I didn’t want to give her any opportunity to hurt any of them ever again.
“We haven’t even begun to formulate a plan for what to do with her,” Thomas interjected to the generalized muttering that had erupted around the room, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “There’s only a three percent chance she’ll reveal anything of relevance to us.”
“We have a resource in the other room,” Viggo insisted. “We should at least attempt to use it.”
“You cannot trust a word out of Desmond Bertrand’s mouth,” Ms. Dale said, her voice heavy with bitter wisdom. “She will lie and manipulate to confuse and distract us. Honestly, the only thing we should do when we go into that room is put a bullet in her head, and leave her body in the woods for the crows to find. It won’t be the first time I’ve killed in the name of the cause, but at least this time, it’ll be the right cause.”
Her words rose to an avalanche of conviction, and I felt them resonate deep within me, making me inclined to agree with her crude and brutal thought process. I knew it wasn’t right. Executing her would only make me more like her, and less like myself… but, more and more, it was feeling like a hit I was willing to take in order to spare us all her brand of evil. What else could we do? Surrender her to the nonexistent Patrian authorities?
Viggo shook his head at Ms. Dale, his brows drawing together. “I don’t disagree, Ms. Dale. But you know we can’t do that yet. We have to find out if harm will come to the boys if the Matrians don’t hear from her.”
Ms. Dale’s eyes narrowed. “I know that’s what we agreed on, but the more I think about it, the more I find it a farfetched story. It’s highly likely she’s lying, and I wonder if we shouldn’t just call her bluff.”
Viggo’s voice was low. “That’s a chance that we absolutely cannot take. We can’t gamble on the boys’ lives!”
“Ms. Dale, Viggo, calm down! Both of you!” Amber slapped her hand on the table and leaned forward, her mouth twisted in a scowl. “Desmo
nd is already winning if we fight about what to do with her. I suggest a compromise. We can’t execute her now, and we all know how dangerous she is. Let’s go in and see what she has to say.”
“About what?” asked Thomas.
“About anything. Bring the gun; let her think we made the decision to off her. See if she says anything.”
“I’ll agree to do it if I get to carry the gun,” Ms. Dale finally said, resignation thick in her voice. “But it won’t help and it won’t work.”
“Let’s not jump to that,” I said, trying not to catch the volatile emotions whirling around the room. “Viggo, you and Ms. Dale go in and let her know we’ve decided to execute her. See what she says. If we are convinced she holds nothing of interest, we continue with our current plan—find out whether or not the threat to the boys is true, and make sure we’re in the clear before we execute her. It won’t be a lie then.”
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Ms. Dale said after a long moment of silence. “Just for this exact plan. All in favor?”
Thomas, Amber, and Viggo’s hands shot up, the three of them saying “aye” at almost the exact same time. After a moment of hesitation, I raised my hand as well, resolving to see the decision through to the end.
Ms. Dale’s face was impassive, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy with the decision. “The ayes have it,” she said softly. “Let’s get ready to talk to Desmond.”
A chill raced down my spine in trepidation about what was in store for us all. There never was any telling, where Desmond was concerned.
13
Viggo
The den had suffered massively in our attempt to create a prison for Desmond. The animal heads and pictures that had adorned the wall had been stripped away, although their former presence was still distinguishable by the dark sections of paint that hadn’t faded like the rest of the walls. We had cleared out every knickknack and every keepsake, every object in the room, creating a wide-open space.