76
’COURSE, I WASN’T A SACK of turnips. I was a soldier-kid with anger-management issues and an extremely strong dislike of being cuffed and hooded. I sensed someone in front of me, someone who smelled different from my team, and automatically I pulled back a booted foot and slammed it forward as hard as I could. I heard someone hitting the other side of the van, and they swore. Then someone punched my leg and said, “Kick me again and I’ll tie you up like a pig!”
Suddenly I slumped with an exhaustion so complete that it surprised me. I was just so… tired. Tired of fighting, being on guard, working a mission I wasn’t even sure of. A bit more than a year ago my biggest concern had been my calculus final. I was too tired to think of the weird path I’d taken to end up here. My concerns now were to keep myself and my team alive and, oh, yeah, try to overthrow the government.
I lay quietly, breathing in dust on the floor of the van, and when Mills whispered a question at me, I pretended not to hear him.
After about half an hour I quit measuring time. We were in darkness, on unfamiliar roads and streets, in a huge city we hadn’t known truly existed till two days ago. So all I could tell was that the drive took forever. Another skill the Crazy House taught me came in handy right now: the ability to fall asleep instantly, almost anywhere and under any conditions.
Who knew how long later, I got shaken
awake. The business end of a rifle prodded me hard in my ribs and someone yelled, “Get up!”
Recognizing the slightest grunts and groans of my squad, I knew we were all still together, still alive. Cuffed and hooded, we were pushed along by a couple different people who said nothing, explained nothing, threatened nothing. Bunny was first in our line—I heard her hiss as she stumbled. The air I breathed smelled damp, a bit musty. My foot hit something, and I realized we were being herded up steps.
I concentrated on trying to hear anything around us as I climbed: voices, water flowing, people working, vehicles that might tell me where we might be. I tried to jump-start some brain cells, enough to memorize the route we were taking, the twists and turns. I was concentrating so hard that it took me several moments to realize I now heard only three sets of footsteps: mine and two others. Two unknown others. Where was the rest of my team? When did we get separated?
A door swung open and I smelled wood smoke. Someone yanked off my hood and I blinked in the sudden brightness. I was in a small, fancy room, its walls covered with shelves holding more books than I’d ever seen. There was a fireplace with a fire blazing beneath its carved marble mantel. I smelled pipe smoke, old books, some things I didn’t recognize. I blinked and shook my head—where the hell was I?
Behind me a voice said, “Thanks, Bets.” I whirled to see my two captors step backward through the carved wooden double doors, shutting them. I turned toward the voice and saw one person, only one, standing ten feet away. I could take him without even trying.
I’d been trained to be hyper aware of my surroundings. Keeping the person in one corner of my eye, I did a fast three-sixty, memorizing doors, windows, any means of escape. And… did not see much. The person—quite tall—he must be six foot six—was also very slender with shaggy blond hair and clear blue eyes. He gave me a half smile that I didn’t return.
“There are two double doors,” he said, pointing to the ones my guards had just left through. “The only windows you can reach are these little round ones, which won’t do you any good.” He met my eyes again, an odd, almost sad expression on his fine-boned face. “Actually, Becca, the only way out of here right now is up.” He pointed toward the turreted ceiling and I saw, maybe fifty feet up, several large, open windows, letting in light and air. He’d seen me look, knew I was searching for an escape. So he was a former soldier—or maybe a former prisoner?
“How do you know my name?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer my question. “People here call me the Loner.”
77
CASSIE
I LET MY BREATH OUT in little pants, following Tim as we walked along the road. My whole right side was soaked with blood and I couldn’t feel or use my right arm. My rifle was slung over my left shoulder, but we both knew I probably wouldn’t be able to use it one-handed. Not fast enough to make a difference, anyway.
We’d left the car roughly two hours before at daybreak, though it felt like at least twelve hours. Tim had filled a backpack with the paper files about Becca’s mission, the map of the city, the directions that should lead us to the Loner, and all the supplies he could carry, but it wasn’t much.
We were headed downhill. At first he had tried to walk beside me but as time passed he’d started walking ahead, then farther ahead. I’d tried to keep up but I was getting light-headed from blood loss. Now he was so far ahead I could barely see him. He turned back as if to look for me, then leaned against the rock wall that bordered this mountain road.
When I finally reached him, his face was tight, and for some reason that made me mad.
“It wasn’t my fault an elk committed suicide while I was driving,” I said.
“I know,” he answered, but I could tell that part of him believed that if he had been driving, the elk would have waited another ten minutes before charging across the road.
“Go on,” I said coldly. “Leave me here. I know you want to.”
“Becca would kick my ass!” he snapped.
So he really did want to leave me behind. It would be hard for me to survive without him, even for a little while. Knowing that made my blood boil. Usually I only got this mad at Becca.
“Leave, then!” I spit at him. “But you need me more than I need you! Unless you think you can read all the signs yourself!”
“I can!” he shouted. “I’m not stupid!”
In a way that used to infuriate Becca, I raised one eyebrow. It had the same effect on him and he stomped over to me, eight inches taller and outweighing me by at least fifty pounds.
Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “At least I didn’t run into the world’s biggest deer!”