Breaking Point (17 page)

“Get to the safe house,” he said, voice scratchy. “We’ll meet you there. All units are pulled in. You have to get on the road now.”

My thoughts turned to Cara, waiting at the checkpoint. How much time had passed?

“Take Billy,” Wallace said quietly.

My stomach dropped.

“No!” shouted Billy, grasping his shirt like a child. “You’ll burn—”

“Take him!” shouted Wallace, and in a burst of strength stood and shoved Billy at me. Chase was suddenly by my side. He grabbed a struggling Billy around the shoulders, locking his arms down.

“Wallace!” Billy was crying. Wallace shoved his handgun into Billy’s pocket.

“Exhale when you pull the trigger, just like we talked about.” His voice cracked, though not from the fire. “You saved my life, kid. Remember that.”

And with that Wallace collapsed to his knees. He crawled to the crate and grabbed another gun, loading it with shaking hands.

“Go.” It was Riggins who broke the trance, pushing me away. “You have to get out of here.” He blocked my view of Wallace and smirked. “The sniper. I should have seen it earlier. I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”

I couldn’t make sense of what he meant, or why he was now pushing me away from the ledge. He knelt beside Wallace and the only two other remaining resistance members at the Wayland Inn. And then we were running, back toward the bench and the neighboring building, a blazing inferno just beneath our feet.

CHAPTER

10

TUCKER
was the first to try the slide. The bench wobbled beneath his weight, but Chase held it steady. After leaping over the threshold, he grinned wildly back at us and then disappeared, only to return a moment later to clear the overhead glass from the window with a scrap of plywood.

I held Sean’s arms to steady him, noting how half of his shirt had been singed off his back. It was hard to tell the damage to his skin through the soot. Tucker grabbed him from the other side and helped him down.

If you hurt him, I’m going to kill you,
I thought.

Billy put up a good fight, but tired quickly. As soon as he was subdued, Chase pushed him over the ledge of the roof onto the bowed wood of the bench. We had to keep moving. Short quaking bursts had begun to rock the building, threatening a cave-in.

Tucker reached out from the window, grasped Billy’s forearms, and jerked him inside.

“You’re up,” said Chase, meeting my eyes briefly before lifting me up onto the bench. He stared across the way at Tucker and swore under his breath.

I looked down and gasped when the thick white smoke clouding around my ankles began to pull at me, screwing up my balance. The board groaned as I adjusted my position and tried not to fall.

“Look at Tucker,” Chase said. I did, and with Chase holding one hand, I skated down until Tucker was holding the other.

He pulled me inside the building, where my knees wobbled and the natural darkness shocked my eyes. Billy was kneeling over Sean, who’d sunk down against the wall. The room was empty but for the shards of glass on the floor that gleamed black in reflection of the smoke outside.

I spun around just as Chase came in behind me.

We were bright red and streaked with soot—awfully suspicious to those who waited down on the street.

“Clean off,” I said. We flipped our clothing inside out. I wiped my face on my forearms, but it just seemed to smear the black.

“That’s it, move out,” commanded Chase. Sean was sturdier on his feet now, but not by much.

Chase knew the way from having searched this building a few days ago. We followed him to the dark stairway and began our descent. My muscles gripped with every step, and my throat burned with thirst. I longed to rinse the fire from my eyes, but there was no time.

I watched Billy, worried he might try to bolt. My burned hands knotted in his charred shirtsleeve, but he shook me off and pushed forward to the front.

Finally, we reached the exit.

With my heart jammed up my windpipe, I stepped out onto the narrow, one-way street, desolate with all the action occurring next door. Over my shoulder the civilians were rioting, still attacking the soldiers with their fists and their curses. They’d succeeded in breaking the front lines, as so many soldiers were now dedicated to shooting upward through the smoke toward the roof. It was impossible to tell in all the chaos if our people had hit anyone.

My mind turned to Riggins and his last words, urging me to go.
The sniper. I should have seen it earlier.
The pieces fell into place now that I’d had a moment to breathe, and with them came a prickling dread. He’d changed around me, maybe sacrificed himself for me, because he—like the woman in Tent City—thought I was someone I wasn’t.

I glanced back for Chase, and instead saw Tucker. My thoughts shifted. Hardened. I remembered why I hated him, why I could never trust him. But somehow something had changed between us. He’d waited for Sean. He’d pushed me over the burning stairs and possibly saved my life.

Screams stole my focus. The roof of the Wayland Inn was collapsing. The fire had taken over, clawing angrily at the blackened sky.

“Wallace!” Billy shouted.

Chase hauled him to the opposite side of the road, where we could no longer see our fallen headquarters. When we were out of sight from the Wayland Inn, we ran.

“The Red Cross Camp,” I heard Sean say to Chase as we caught our breath in an alley.

“Aren’t there any more of you?” Tucker asked through labored breaths. “Another base or something?”

“The garage,” I said. East End Auto. I didn’t like Tucker asking that question, and I didn’t like leading him to where the carrier met refugees, but we were out of options. “Cara’s waiting there.”

I hoped she was still waiting there. I didn’t know how much time had passed. More than an hour, at least.

We took side streets, staying away from the Red Cross Camp and the Square. With all patrol cars pulled into the fire, the back roads were clear. The breath seared my sore lungs, but there was no time to rest.

Finally we reached the garage, and without delay, Chase pounded the code—SOS—into the flimsy metal.

Sweat streamed into my eyes. One minute passed. Then another.

She was gone. We’d waited too long.

Frustration consumed me. I was just about to kick the door when the bolt inside released, and the metal rose to hip height. Cara and I came face-to-face as I swooped under the threshold.

Her face lifted in surprise when she registered the group.

“You’re all that’s left?” she said, glancing between us. Her eyes hardened when no one responded.

“Tell me you have keys to that truck.” Chase pointed to the yellow Horizons distribution vehicle. The garage didn’t smell damp as it had during the storm. Now it was dry, and cold, like the inside of a tomb.

Cara lifted a key ring from the pocket of her Sisters of Salvation skirt and held them up for us to see. I nearly cried with relief.

“When’s Tubman get back?” Sean’s voice was a tempered groan.

“We need to get to the safe house,” Chase explained. “All units have pulled into the city to look for resistance. The roads should be clear, at least until we pass city limits.”

“I don’t know when Tubman’s getting back,” she said, her voice smaller than I’d expected.

“Weren’t you with him?” I nearly shouted.

“We got separated,” she said smartly. I wanted to shake her. She turned back to the others. “I know a place, though. A checkpoint in Greeneville. We can hide there if we can get out of the city.”

“And past the highway patrol.” Tucker siphoned in an impatient breath. I watched his face change from speculation to acceptance, and wondered what his angle was.

Cara rolled on. “Tubman makes a stop there. We meet up with him, we get our ride to the safe house.”

The blood was still pumping through me. It was as good a plan as we were going to get.

“Find me a delivery uniform,” Sean said. “I’ll drive. Cara can sit up front and give me directions. We’ll tell them we’re going to a soup kitchen.” I winced as he pulled the remnants of his T-shirt over his head. He blinked for several seconds, placing a hand on the bumper for support as Cara disappeared down the stairs.

Chase jerked the back of the truck open; it clacked against its rickety metal runners.

“I’ll drive,” he said. “You can barely sit up.”

“No.” Billy was shaking his head. “We can’t leave Wallace here. We can’t. He’ll come, just wait a minute.” His track was stuck on repeat.

Chase tried to force him into the compartment, but Billy lashed out and shoved him back hard. The move was so forecasted, I was sure even I could have evaded it, but Chase didn’t. Maybe he wanted Billy to hit him, I don’t know.

Then Billy crumbled, tears carving bright tracks down the filth on his cheeks. I crouched by his side and held him tightly against me. “Come on, Billy. If he’s made it, he can’t wait for us here. We’re going together, okay? You and me. Come on.” Telling Billy this made me feel stronger somehow.

Finally, he lifted his head, and without another word climbed into the truck. His eyes stayed pinned on the garage door, as though Wallace might appear at any second.

When I turned back around, Chase and Tucker had squared off, staring at each other, an unspoken, lethal hatred balancing on the edge of control. The red on Tucker’s face had faded everywhere but the side of his jaw where Chase had punched him.

I’d been caught up in the momentum of our flight, but reality finally tackled me. Tucker was with us now. Without thinking, we’d even arranged his transportation out of the city.

I stepped beside Chase, and when Tucker glanced down at me, he faltered, as though
I
was somehow betraying
him
.

“Did you start the fire?” I heard myself ask.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he thought his obvious resentment was enough.

“He was with me all morning,” Sean wheezed.

“We’ve got to move!” Cara slapped the side of the truck.

For one beat no one said a word, and in that silence Tucker turned and began walking toward the exit. There was no gun in his waistband.

“Morris, wait,” called Sean. He shook his head at Chase. “Come on, man. I don’t know what he did to you two, but it’s over. It’s not like you haven’t screwed up before.”

Chase grunted. Tucker stopped.

Since Sean had heard my side of what had happened with Rebecca, he hadn’t once made me feel guilty, but I felt it now. It stabbed into my gut as I remembered exactly what the soldier’s baton had sounded like falling over her small body. Still, I speculated that Sean would not be so forgiving if confronted with
his
mother’s killer.

My heart beat out every second. Time was wasting.

“Promise you won’t hurt anyone while you’re with us,” I said.

It went against everything that felt right in my body, like swimming straight into a current. But Cara was right, we had to go. And as much as I hated it, Sean was right, too—we’d all done things, myself included, for which we could be judged.

“Ember,” Chase said under his breath.

“I don’t trust you,” I continued as Tucker turned. “I won’t ever trust you. I don’t know what you were doing in that building, or why you helped Sean and me. But if you promise not to screw this up, I’ll believe you.”

“And if you do screw this up, I’ll kill you,” added Chase quietly.

Tucker approached. Nodded once soberly.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. “Fine. I promise.”

“Sean, you’re driving,” said Chase bluntly, never taking his eyes off Tucker. Sean nodded, stepping into the beige, button-up uniform.

Without further pause we loaded into the back. Cara tossed up a flashlight, a bottle of water, and a first-aid kit, and slammed the sliding door down. It occurred to me that we’d lost the backpack somewhere. Our only possessions, my letters to Chase included, had likely burned to ashes. All evidence of the past was gone.

It was nearly dark; the only light cut in from a high line of vents along the roof. An icy panic gripped my chest as my eyes adjusted. I was five feet away from Tucker Morris, and I could barely see to defend myself.

He gave his word
.

He’s a liar
.

I heard the metallic slide of Sean locking the gate in place. There was nothing to do now but wait and be ready.

The engine started, and a moment later the truck lurched forward.

I perched, ready, between Chase and Billy on one of the wooden crates that lined the metal compartment’s interior. Tucker sat directly across from us. The tension was as palpable as the smoke inside the Wayland Inn.

Wedging the flashlight between his cheek and his shoulder, Chase inspected the throbbing blisters that ran from my thumb across the fleshy part of my palm. He opened the tin first-aid kit and began cleaning the burn with an antibacterial swab that might as well have been steel wool. Not once did he meet my gaze. He hadn’t since he’d yelled at me on the roof.

With my opposite hand I took a small sip of water from our only bottle and passed it to Billy. Sharing had been understood in the resistance, and traditions had to be maintained. As far as we knew, we were all that was left.

“Who has a firearm?” Chase asked. His voice was still raw from the smoke.

Billy glanced around the cabin before timidly revealing the 9mm Wallace had given him. “I guess that leaves me, huh?”

“Have you ever fired that piece, kid?” asked Tucker.

“I’m fourteen,” said Billy. Wallace called him kid. Not Tucker.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“I bet you didn’t,” I muttered. In a clinical, detached way, Chase wrapped my hand with a small roll of gauze and told me to keep it elevated.

“I’m just saying he should give it to one of us who has a little more…” Tucker paused, shifting his gaze toward the metal ceiling. “… experience,” he finished, almost inaudibly.

I couldn’t swallow.

“Keep the light on,” I told Chase when he lowered the flashlight. I wanted to keep Tucker in my sight.