Two of the rebels are still sleeping, but the man is awake. His eyes move to my face the moment I step inside. His stare is intense. I don't know how to make him stop without looking weak. So I stare back at him. I tell him with my glare that I am not scared of him. His lips lift up in disbelief.
Leslie is on the other side of the tent. She does not look comfortable. I get the feeling he has been doing the same type of staring at her. She is calm and focused, like always, but even she is not immune to such an unnerving stare.
"Do you need help?" I ask her, my eyes still on the man.
"I think I'm okay," Leslie says. She gestures at the man. "Though he needs breakfast."
"I'll do it," I say.
A tray of food is on the wooden table next to him. The food is simple. A slice of bread, a side of meat, and an apple. The only way to let him eat is to feed it to him. No one trusts him enough to remove his restraints. The man's smile grows.
"Don't get so excited," I scold him. "I'm not doing it for you."
Riley hesitates near the door. She does not like the medical tent. She has never liked it. I know it's because she had to watch her father die in it. I turn back to her at the thought. She shrugs one shoulder, to tell me she's not certain if she's okay, and then takes a step inside. She takes another and then sits on the stool near the door. The man watches her, the neutral expression back on his face again.
I cut up his apple and the meat and then pick up the fork. I jab a piece of meat on it and then hold it up to him. He takes a bite, his eyes returning to my face. I roll my eyes at him and wait for him to look away again. He doesn't.
"You don't have to keep these restraints on me," he says to Leslie. "I'm not going to hurt you again." He points at his bandage. "Besides, I'm too weak to do anything."
"Not my choice," Leslie says. "And, honestly, I feel better with them on."
"What'll it take to get them off?" he asks, taking a bite of apple.
"A talk with Angela," Leslie says shortly.
"When can I see her?" he asks.
"Just as soon as she wants to see you," Leslie replies. "She knows you're awake."
The man nods. He looks at me and his teasing smile returns. "What's your name?"
I look at Leslie uncertainly. I don't know if giving him my name is a good idea or not. I don't get to make up my mind.
"It's Ambria," Riley says. "Though everyone calls her Bree."
"Bree," the man says, mulling over my name. "I'm Gib."
"Riley," Riley adds. "What were you doing so close to the city? How did the fight start?"
I try to get her to shut up with a look, but she is unapologetic. Nothing can stop her curiosity once she's found a place to direct it.
"We were trying to find a way into the city. We were sent to see if there are any weaknesses we can exploit, but we got ambushed on the way," he says.
"Why would you want to sneak into the city?" I ask.
"I wasn't told why," he says. "But I know it's important."
The way he says it is peculiar. It's like he's really irritated that he doesn't know the truth. He needs to know for a reason he isn't sharing. Does he not enjoy following his orders? Does he think them foolish? Had he grown tired of the fighting?
"Where will you go now?" Riley asks. She's more curious about this question than the others.
"I don't know," he replies.
"I think that's enough," Angela says, stepping into the room. She eyes Leslie sharply. "Who gave you permission to let my granddaughter in here?"
"She just walked in," Leslie says calmly. "I didn't know it was a problem."
"It is," Angela says sternly.
She makes no mention of me. She is not as worried about me getting hurt as she is Riley. She figures worry should come from Max. It's his responsibility to look out for me.
"I just wanted-" Riley starts to say.
"Out!" Angela commands.
Riley stares at her for a minute. Angela stares right back. I don't have to see into the future to know who is going to win the contest of wills. It's very obvious. Riley turns away with a huff and storms out of the tent.
Angela pushes her grey hair out of her face and exhales sharply. Her eyes find the man's. He has gone back to staring impassively. His focus is her face. The wheels are turning in his head. He speaks before she can tell him the reason she's in the tent.
"I'm sorry for attacking your medic," he says, his expression filling with shame. "I thought she was RFA. I wasn't thinking clearly."
"It's hard to stop fighting once you start," Angela forgives him easily, her expression softening noticeably. She's eager to pity him. It has everything to do with his rebel status. Her past in the war means she is ready to forgive anyone who has fought the same battles she once fought.
"I promise I won't attack any more of your people," Gib says. He gestures down to me, where I have stopped feeding him to listen to the conversation. "Getting spoon-fed, no matter how pretty the girl, is not really my thing."
I fight my blush and look at Leslie to avoid having to look at Angela or the man. Leslie's expression is as neutral as the man's. She's hiding her emotions. I'm instantly curious. What thought is she hiding?
Angela hesitates. My irritation at the hesitation is swift. The circumstances of the attack and Angela's responses to it have made me realize that she hesitates when she shouldn't. It's not a good trait to have when so many people are depending on her. Owning the shield does make her a good leader as I have long thought.
"Of course," she says.
She bends down and quickly unties Gib's hands. He rubs at his wrists where the fabric cut into his skin and looks up at her gratefully. "Thank you," he replies.
"In the winter the sun sets cold," she says.
"And in the summer it rises warm," he replies instantly.
I look at them in confusion. It feels like they have shared a secret with one another. Angela nods in approval. She glances at Leslie, who is staring at the ground stoically, and then leaves the tent. She calls away the guards and I am left staring at a suddenly free man who has tried to kill three innocent people in the span of twenty-four hours.
"There now...We can finally be friends," he says, still rubbing at his wrists. He looks me over. "You can still feed me if you want."
I push the tray at him and stand. Leslie follows me outside. Gib laughs as I leave. My hands clench with rage at the sound. Leslie catches my arm and gets me to stop walking with a gentle tug.
"Don't let him bother you. He wants to get a rise out of you," she says.
I don't reply. It's too late.
"I don't trust him," she adds. "And neither should you."
"I won't," I say.
She lifts her shirt and shows me the knife she has tucked into her waistband. "I mean...You should really not trust him."
I nod mutely, understanding her seriousness.
"What's going on?" I ask her. "Why are you and Devlin suddenly so serious?"
"Because the war has a way of twisting things," she says. "And neither of us want you and your brother caught up in it again."
"Again?" I ask.
Leslie clamps her mouth shut and looks at me for a minute. "Keep your eyes peeled. We can't pretend like the rebels won't come here. They'll kill us as easily as they would the RFA."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because we're not them," she says. "Just...be wary."
"I will," I say.
She smiles at me, touching me on the shoulder as she does. I don't know if the touch is meant to reassure her or me. I don't think it does either. She turns away but doesn't go back to the tent. I have a feeling she does not want to be alone with Gib.
I look around the camp as I think about the past day. People are not out as they normally are. The scare with the RFA has sent them to their tents. It makes camp feel empty. I don't like the feeling. Not wanting to join Riley in the clothing tent, I decide to find Max.
He's walking along the shield, his senses alert to
signs of danger. I quietly follow him, testing to see if I can keep him from noticing me. He spins when he finally feels me trailing after him. He swears at me quietly, not liking that I managed to sneak up on him, and I silently join him with a smug smile.
Neither of us talk as we patrol the fence. There's nothing to say, and we don't want to run the risk of someone overhearing us. But I feel better. The tension and secrets of camp fall away. Max is next to me. I know that nothing bad could possibly happen with him at my side.
It's night when Devlin finally returns. His news is good. The RFA has gone back to the city. They have stopped their search of the woods. We're safe. The whispers of relief turn to hugs and handshakes. Devlin does not join in with the celebration. He walks away from the people without speaking and goes to his tent. Max and I follow him.
"Not in the mood," Devlin says when he sees us.
"We're just checking on you," Max says.
"I'm fine," Devlin says. "I'm always fine."
"Angela is letting that rebel do as he pleases now," I blurt out. "She removed his restraints. And he came out of the tent for a few minutes this afternoon. His injuries are not as bad as the others...He should be fine in a couple of days."
Devlin's eyes harden, but he doesn't get up. He pulls his boots and socks off and wiggles his toes as the air hits them. He sighs in relief. He leans back on his bedroll and plumps his pillow to remove the lumps.
"That's her prerogative," he says.
"You don't think it's dangerous?" I ask.
"Of course it is," Devlin says. "But there's nothing I can do about it."
"You can tell her to kick him out," I say.
"She won't do that," Devlin replies.
"Why not?"
"Because he's a rebel, and she has a soft spot for them."
"You were a rebel," I say.
"It's different," he replies sharply. "I'm nothing like these new rebels."
He gestures us to leave and we do, knowing he's not good to be around when irritable. It was the first lesson I learned from him.
I look at Max when we are far enough away from his tent for him not to overhear. "What do you think he means?" I ask.
Max shrugs. His curiosity is clear, but he's done talking. He knows there's nothing we can do to make Devlin tell us the truth. "I don't know. I have a date...See you later."
"Bye," I reply.
He walks into the shadows and I hear a girl's voice rise up out of the dark. I know her from around camp, though we have never spoken directly. She giggles and Max's low voice responds. I shake my head at him, then swiftly walk away before their words turn romantic.
I decide to go to the gardens. It's easier to see the stars without the trees in the way, and they're usually deserted at night. I need space to think; I need to be away from the others and the questions they cause. I climb the hill and hear another set of voices. I recognize them just as instantly.
"...made of titanium so hard that even a missile couldn't destroy it," Gib says.
What is he doing so far away from the medical tent?
"That's amazing!" Riley replies. "How do you know so much about it?"
"My parents lived in the city before they left to join the rebellion," he says. "I lived there until I was eight or nine."
"I wish I could see it," Riley says. "Without getting caught, I mean."
I can't think of a single reason why Riley and Gib should be alone, particularly with Gib's proclivities toward violence. The thought brings swift fear to my chest.
"Riley?" I question.
"Bree?" she asks back, sounding embarrassed. "What are you doing up here?"
"I needed to think," I say. "I didn't think anyone would be up here."
"Oh," Riley says.
I move closer and see them sitting on the grass on the far side of the garden from the creek. There is a small mirror in a jar. I recognize it as one of the portable solar lights. We aren't suppose to take them out of the camp unless it's an emergency. The light is dim and casts blue shadows on Riley's and Gib's faces. They look older, almost skeleton with the shadows. It sends a shiver down my spine.
Gib stands at my appearance. He grabs his chest painfully and winces. I don't move to help him like I would have anyone else. I look at him suspiciously, wondering what he's up to.
"Bree." He says it like he's calling me out or challenging me. I don't know what to make of the challenge. "Riley offered to take me to the best spot in camp so I could get some air. I guess it's not as big of a secret as she led me to believe."
"No," I say.
"I was just playing when I said that," Riley confesses.
I can't be sure in the dim, blue light, but I think she's blushing. She likes him. I know why. He's handsome, and he's the first boy near our age that we've met outside of camp in a long time. If he hadn't tried to kill Leslie and me, I might have felt the same way.
"I was just about to head back," he says. "I need sleep if I'm going to recover."
There's urgency to his words. He's eager to recover his strength. He wants to leave. I don't know if Angela will let him until she knows him better. If she releases him too soon, we will have to move. I don't trust him to keep our secret.
I nod at him without replying and keep my eyes on Riley. He passes me and slowly makes his way down the hill. He grunts as a step jostles him too much, but he's tough and unwilling to bend to the pain.
When I'm certain he is gone, I sit next to Riley. "You should be careful, Riles," I tell her, using her pet name to keep my warning light. "I don't trust him."
"Why?" she asks.
"He's tried to kill three people since I've met him," I say.
"He explained that already," Riley says impatiently. "And Grandma already forgave him. Maybe you should too. It's not like you're prefect or anything."
"I didn't say I was," I say in surprise. She's defensive and angry. Does she like him that much?
Riley has had enough of the conversation. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."
She collects the jar and marches away without another word. The darkness surrounds me. I watch her leave and then stare up at the stars. They're darker than normal. They do not comfort me. Nothing can make right the feeling in my stomach that time is running out for us all.
Chapter 6