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“Wait there,” I called to Clara. “The tunnel isn’t more than two blocks farther. It’s in a motel marked with an eight. ” I dropped my bag, gesturing to the awning of an abandoned grocery store. Clara called after me, asking me what to wait for, but I took off toward the building, her voice disappearing behind the heavy rain.
Two soldiers were standing outside the front entrance. I slunk around the back, noticing an older woman at the side door. Our eyes met. She signaled to me with her hand. It wasn’t until I was a few yards away that I noticed the bright red streak in her hair. It was the same woman Moss had mentioned.
“They already know about you,” she said, leaning in. She didn’t look at me. Instead her eyes watched the scene over my shoulder. The high shrubs provided little cover from any vehicles that passed on the road. “The alerts have gone out. You have ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before they’re here. They’ve dispatched the Jeeps from the north end of the wall. You have to leave now. ”
I pushed against the side of the building, trying to get some respite from the rain that pelted my skin. The blood came off my fingers, the water pooling pink in my palm before it flooded over the sides of my hand and washed away. “I need you to let me inside,” I said. “Please—I’ll be quick. ”
“There’s dozens of girls on this floor—maybe more. What are you going to do?”
“Please,” I said again. “I don’t have time. ”
She didn’t respond. Instead she opened the lock, and for the first time I noticed that her hands were shaking. “That’s all I can do,” she said. “I’m sorry, I won’t tell, but I can’t help you any more than this. ” She stepped back, away from me, disappearing around the side of the building.
I propped the door open with a rock. Inside, the long corridor was quiet. A few girls in a side room were talking about the explosions they’d heard outside, wondering what had happened and why. Two people sat under a giant calendar labeled January 2025, their heads bowed together as they spoke. It wasn’t until Beatrice turned, hearing my footsteps, that I recognized her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, starting toward me. Sarah followed along behind her, her eyes swollen. “Is what they’re saying true? They’re taking the girls back to the Schools?”
“We have to gather as many girls as possible,” I said, glancing into one of the rooms. A group of girls were sitting with their legs folded, reading some old magazines. “There’s a route we can take out of the City. Have them bring their warmest clothes and whatever supplies they have. How many are on this hall?”
“Just nine of us,” Sarah said. “The rest are past there. ” She pointed to the closed double doors behind her.
I ducked into the second room, not waiting for Beatrice to respond. Four girls were curled up in bed, reading a tattered copy of something called Harry Potter. They looked up when I came in, scanning my drenched clothes and my hair, which clung to my face and neck in thick, black coils. Locking eyes with them, I suddenly wasn’t quite certain what to say, how to convince them to come now, with me, away from everything they’d known. “I need you to gather all your things and line up by the exit,” I said. “It’s not safe here anymore. Take whatever supplies you have and be ready to leave in two minutes, no more. ”
A girl with blond hair and freckles narrowed her eyes at me. “Who are you? Do the guards know you’re here?”
“No—and you won’t tell them. ” I grabbed one of the top drawers and emptied it onto the bed, tossing the girl a canvas bag that had fallen out. “I’m Genevieve—the King’s daughter. And we need to leave the City tonight, now, before you no longer have the chance. ”
The girl with freckles grabbed her friend’s arm, rooting her in place. “Why would we leave the City? They said they’re taking us back to the Schools soon. They said it’s safe now. ”
“Because they’ve lied to you,” I said. The girl behind her shifted on her feet. “There are no trade schools. After graduation, the girls in the Schools—girls like you, like my friends—are impregnated and spend years giving birth in that building. They’re held there against their will. The King is trying to raise the population numbers any way he can. ”
“You’re lying,” the girl with the long braid said. But the others looked less certain.
“Have you ever seen the girls who graduated before you? Have they ever come back to say what they’re doing inside the City?” I paused. “What if I’m not lying? What will you do once you’re back at the School and you realize I was right? What will you do then?”
A girl with tiny black braids got up and slowly started picking through a box below her cot. “Come on, Bette,” she said. “What if she is right? Why would the Princess lie to us?”
I didn’t have time to convince them. I went into the hall as a few of the others started packing, whispering to one another. Four of the girls from the room beside us were in there, clutching the knapsacks they’d brought from School. They looked uncertain, some on the verge of tears, others laughing, as if I were accompanying them on some sort of excursion. Beatrice had locked her arm around Sarah’s and was standing at the front of the door, watching the corridor behind me. “Take them across the road, to the empty grocery store on the other side,” I told her. “Clara will be there. ”
Beatrice peered out the door, watching the narrow street that ran beside us. The water pooled by the cracked curbs, spreading out in vast, murky puddles. The only sound was the rain as it hit the side of the stone building. “Then what?” she asked.
“I’ll bring the rest of them as soon as they’re ready. ” I turned down the hall, toward the stairs, as Beatrice left. I looked up the first long flight. The girls from my School were several floors above, waiting to be brought back to that building across the lake. I had to at least try. Didn’t I owe them that?
“Quickly,” I said, turning to the girls in the hall. A few more trailed out of the room, thick sweaters pulled over their jumpers. Others filed out behind Beatrice. When I turned back to the stairs I heard it: the quick, constant clomp of boots descending the steps. Two flights up, a female soldier peered over the railing, spotting me, her face tense as she drew her gun.
I started down the hall, pulling the stairwell door shut and rolling a rusted metal cart in front of it to slow her. “Go,” I yelled, gesturing for the girls to follow Beatrice out the side exit. “Now!”
Five of them stood by the door. “You have to trust me,” I yelled, running up behind them. Slowly, the girls started outside and into the rain, holding their bags above their heads as they ran. I followed behind them, urging them to move faster, to weave through the alleyway to the abandoned store, where Beatrice and the others waited, their figures barely visible beneath the ripped awning.
I splashed through the ankle-deep puddles, letting the rain soak me again. When I looked back the soldier was emerging from the side of the building, two more men in tow as they started after us. As soon as I reached the store I sprinted out front, ignoring the sound of the Jeeps as they sped south on the road, toward us, their headlights illuminating the dark.