Then a new volley of bullets knocked her off her feet, flung her backward to land heavily on the hard-packed snow. My mouth opened to scream but no sound came out. I clamped numb fingers against my lips as my knees gave way and I sank into the snow. The noise of firing guns bounced around inside my head, making me dizzy. The bullets kept hitting, making Becca’s limp body twitch grotesquely.
My sister. The only family I had left. I had ordered her to die so that I could live.
Gulping down nausea, choking on pointless sobs, I clutched my rifle and raced away from Becca’s blood-soaked body. I’d been trained for exactly this. I would deal with my emotions later. Right now our camp was depending on me. This fight wasn’t over. I ran through the trees, knowing my boots left obvious footprints in the snow.
After everything we’d been through, Becca was dead and I was alone.
4
BECCA HAD BOUGHT ME TIME and a decent head start, but the Uniteds kept coming, following me easily. Every so often I ducked behind a rock, lay down some ribbons of cover fire. I heard screams and had no reaction to them. Sometimes their bullets struck trees so close to me that hot, splintery shards of bark hit my frozen cheeks, stinging like needles.
The objective should be right ahead of me, right around this—suddenly I windmilled to a stop, going up on my toes, trying to keep my weight back. This should be a United entrenchment, a fortified location for their high-powered weapons. But it was a cliff, a sheer drop-off—all the maps I had were wrong! They’d led me to this cliff, and a long way down was a roaring, frigidly cold river. Goddamnit! How had this happened? Rifle shots shredded trees behind me. Someone had given me inaccurate maps. Why?
Realization seeped into the frozen paths of my brain, and a bitter smile crossed my face. I knew why.
Again, my only choice was the worst one possible: I had to jump. The river below might be shallow, making this jump a suicide. There might be sharp rocks on the bottom waiting to break my neck, my spine, my skull. This might be where it ends. This might be where I failed.
Had Becca died for nothing? Would I get picked off now, so easily?
No.
In war there was no place for emotion. Zero.
“One, two, three!” I hissed, and jumped before I could think myself out of it. I fell for a surprisingly long time and then I hit freezing water as hard as concrete.
5
SOMETIMES THE HOT WATER RUNS out and you’re stuck taking a cold shower and it feels like a huge hardship. Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re a pathetic, weak loser who should never mention the words cold shower again. Being slammed into this river—there were no words for this kind of cold. I was shocked almost to unconsciousness, stunned, instantly wracked with consuming pain from a cold so cold that it felt like fire. It knocked every coherent thought out of my head and I was dumbfounded when I bobbed up to the surface and my lungs told me to breathe.
Seconds later, bullets hissed with steam as they sliced the water around me. I looked up to see gray-garbed United soldiers at the top of the cliff, pointing their weapons at me. I was still holding my rifle, my fingers frozen around it. With my last effort, I raised my gun and fired. I hit a United soldier, who screamed and fell headfirst into the fast-moving water about twenty yards away.
Well, what was one more? I’d already killed Becca.
The harsh current swept me roughly downstream and I was barely able to keep my chin above water. Hypothermia was setting in—my brain was foggy and I couldn’t feel my body, could hardly remember what I was doing or why I was here. Still, something kept me trying to head to the other side of the river. But the current was too strong. I was freezing to death. Literally.
I had nearly made peace with my slow death when my sister’s face popped into my brain. Don’t you let me sacrifice myself for nothing, she scolded. My ass is dead and you better swim like a goddamn eel to the other side, you hear me?
Becca mad is not a good situation. I moved one arm, then the other.
Swim, you bitch! she snapped.
So I did. Inch by painful inch, the other shore got closer.
Somehow my boots hit the bottom. I crawled upward on the icy sand, dragging myself away from the punishing river. I couldn’t feel anything, except the violent shivering of my body. I was so tired. So, so tired. Tears leaked from my eyes, burning my frozen cheeks.
Dimly, a sound reached my ears. A steady rhythm. It was—a slow clap.
With great effort I pried open my stinging eyes, blearily focusing on the figure walking toward me.
“Not bad, Cassie,” said Helen Strepp.
6
I LAY ON THE COLD sand feeling like a dying seal while Ms. Strepp made some notes about my death-defying feats. My days of caring about what she thought were over.
“Leaders have to make hard choices,” she said. “Leaders sacrifice the comfort of their sou
ls in order to save others from having to make hard choices. You finally made the right choice, and just in time. If you’d failed again, you’d be on your way back to Cell B-whatever it was.”