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Beatrice stepped forward, into the dim light. “You’ve made a mistake,” she said. “She’s trying to bring the girls to safety. To Califia. She’s been working with Moss. ”
“Moss is dead,” the man said. “Everyone on the Trail knows who Princess Genevieve is. She will be punished, even if her father was not. ”
“I was working with the rebels,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m on your side. ” The man yanked my arm, pulling me toward the back exit. A few of the girls were crying, their low, muffled sobs heard in the dark.
“I know the codes,” I said, thinking that might mean something to him. But he kept the gun aimed at my stomach.
“You have to listen to her,” Clara said, running toward us. “She never sided with her father. ” I shook my head, hoping she wouldn’t say anything more. It was possible he knew who she was. If anyone said her name or mentioned she was my cousin, he might take her as well.
He pulled me toward the door. I didn’t resist, instead keeping my breathing steady, thinking of the knife at my belt. I didn’t know if I could physically bring myself to do it, but my gaze kept returning to the gun, the end of it still aimed right above my belt. He held my arm, starting backward. When he reached the door, he turned for a brief moment to open it, looking down as he searched for the handle. I slipped my hand to my waist, wrapping my fingers tight around the butt of the knife, pulling it from its sheath. He opened the door, signaling me through.
As I stepped into the parking lot, I kept the blade in front of me. He came through the door and I turned quickly, landing it in his right bicep. He cursed and released the gun. I kicked it hard, sending it skidding over the pavement. I stepped away from him, trying to get space between us, when Clara came through the door. I heard the bells clanking, the loud whine of the hinges, and then she struck him in the back of the head. It wasn’t until he was on the ground, twisted in pain, that I saw one of the glass water bottles in her hand.
He didn’t get up. His eyes were squeezed shut, his knees folded into his chest. He reached for the back of his head, where a gash had opened, the blood wet in his hair. Clara took the plastic rope from her belt and looped it around his wrists. Even when he was on the ground, his hands lashed together, I couldn’t catch my breath. I saw the gun again, the barrel pointed at my stomach. It was enough to protect myself, but I felt now there was this other part of me, a person I’d imagined as vividly as anything else.
It wasn’t more than a minute before the rest of the girls were outside. As the man lost consciousness they moved in, studying him. “He was going to kill you,” Helene said. She tried to dry her cheeks, but her eyes kept filling.
“I was just trying to help,” Bette said. “I was trying to get someone to help us. ”
Clara’s face was unfamiliar to me. Her cheeks were red, her hand squeezing down on Bette’s arm. She spoke through clenched teeth. “What do you think we’re doing? We are helping you. ” Bette tried to pull away, but Clara held her there. “If he heard it, how many other people did?”
I looked down at the man, his face caked with dirt. We had to leave tonight. It was possible more rebels were already on their way. If the soldiers had heard the message, they’d track us here. Even if we kept north, away from this campground, they could approximate where we were. If they thought we were going to Califia, they might set up checkpoints to the west of the mountains, blocking the way. We needed somewhere we could hide.
I ran off toward the road, where the motorcycle still sat. The quiet sound of my feet against the pavement calmed me. It felt good to be up, to be moving again, the night air filling my chest. “Eve?” Clara called out, watching me. “What are you doing?”
When I got to the bike, I knelt down beside the tire, feeling for the small nozzle in its side. Quinn had told me the trick in Califia, when we’d spoken about the government Jeeps. It was easier than cutting through the thick rubber.
I twisted the valve open, listening to the satisfying hiss of the air as it rushed out. “Get everything packed,” I called, turning to watch their silhouettes, frozen there against the star-dusted sky. “We leave for the dugout tonight. ”
Twenty-one
“IT’S SO CLOSE,” SARAH CALLED AS WE CRESTED THE HILL. “I can see the water. ” I scanned the trees, making sure I’d directed us to the right spot. It was as I’d remembered it, but seemed lonelier somehow, the lake unfamiliar in Caleb and Arden’s absence.
The girls broke into a run as the water spread out before them, the sky showing pink and orange against its glassy surface. Bette helped Helene down the rocky slope, holding the sled from the back, careful not to let it slide too fast. I watched her, grateful we’d made it. We’d built three fires on the way north—only during the day, to boil lake water—and suffered through nights in the cold, too afraid the smoke would be seen from the road. When we’d camped at Crowley Lake, a vehicle had passed above us. We saw it stop on the ridgeline, the soldiers getting out as they surveyed the pavement, studying for a few minutes the faint footprints we’d left in the sand before passing us by.
Bette helped Helene up, and they started toward the lake. Helene limped, still unable to put weight on her bad leg. As they reached the shallows, the other girls hardly turned, instead rinsing their arms and legs with the clean water. They hadn’t hidden their annoyance with Bette. Even now, a week and a half later, they walked yards in front of her, sometimes ignoring her when she called to them.
Sarah submerged herself in the shallows. She washed quickly, taking handfuls of sand and rubbing it against her arms, then filling her bottles with fresh water. “I don’t see them,” she said, scanning the trees behind me. “Maybe they’re not here. ”
A few of the girls turned at the mention of the boys. They stepped out of the water, filling the last of their bottles and setting them on shore. “I’m not going up there,” Bette said, glancing at the darkness between trees. “I don’t care if I sleep aboveground. ”
“You’re certain it’s safe?” Clara said as she walked up beside me. She dropped her pack and rubbed the tender spot on her shoulder where the strap dug into her skin. “We can stay here?”
“I’m not certain of anything,” I said, looking at the path that led up to the dugout. “But the place is hidden. There’s water and plenty to hunt. We might be able to take the horses the rest of the way—it would take at least a week off the trip to Califia. ”
Clara’s gaze fell on Helene. Beatrice was unwrapping her leg, changing the splint and towels that held the bone in place. None of us had said it out loud, but her injury had slowed our pace considerably. Though we all took turns pulling her along, some of the girls were too weak, and the majority of the task fell to Clara, Beatrice, and me. Despite a few small meals of rabbit, we were perpetually hungry. There was a dull, constant ache in my stomach, and my energy was low. I worried if we didn’t stay here and rest, conserving what strength we had, we’d be stranded on the way to Califia, somewhere with even fewer resources. We might not make it there at all.
Bette took up a handful of wet sand and scrubbed the dirt from her palms. Some of the girls waded in up to their knees but refused to turn away from the shore, keeping their eyes on the forest, as if waiting for the boys to appear. They were all so thin. Lena had a horrible sunburn on her shoulders, the skin red and blistering.