Deception (23 page)

My heart thuds painfully against my chest as we reach the stairwell and begin to climb. This ridiculous building has thirty-five floors. I cling to the railing and practically drag myself up each miserable step. The air in here is stale and dank, and clusters of moss cling to the cracks that spread across the walls. Sweat gathers at the small of my back, and I’m breathing way too fast, but I can’t seem to control it.

Did the previous government outlaw the building of new homes or shops? I can’t imagine any other valid reason for agreeing to stretch steel and glass toward the sky as if daring the wind to knock it over.

I’m panting, and my fingers feel numb when we finally reach the brown metal door that leads to the roof. It sticks. Quinn slams into it with his shoulder, and it reluctantly creaks open on hinges nearly immobile with rust and age. He walks onto the roof, followed by Willow, Rachel, and Ian. Thom, Cassie, Keegan, and Jodi stayed downstairs like the admirably sane people I know them to be.

Adam looks up as we walk onto the roof, and his eyes go straight to Willow. “You’re back. I was getting worried.”

She tugs on her braid and says, “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“No, but I did anyway,” he says. Willow’s cheeks turn a dusky pink, and her smile is a little shy.

Then she turns to me and says, “Coming out sometime today?” Before I can respond, she strides toward the edge of the roof.

I cling to the doorjamb, staring at the wide-open space before me. The rooftop is a faded gray stone riddled with cracks and holes. Rusted pipes stick out at irregular intervals, like some sort of ventilation system. A large, square metal box rests in the corner. Almost every available inch is covered with a clinging green vine or a carpet of moss. The edge of the roof is surrounded by a low railing that barely reaches Willow’s waist.

That can’t possibly be safe.

She waves me over, a sharp, impatient gesture, and I edge my way out of the doorway. The wind tugs and pushes, and only pride keeps me from dropping to my knees and crawling. I step over vines, slide across moss, and grimly calculate the trajectory necessary to slam into the railing instead of sailing over into thin air, should the capricious wind have its way with me.

When I reach Willow, I grab the railing with both fists and hold on as if my life depends on it. Which it probably does. Because no one was meant to be this far off the ground.

“Look.” She points south. “No,
there
. A few degrees to the east.”

I crane my neck and sweep the cityscape and beyond, manfully swallowing the need to whimper when I accidentally look too far down. “I don’t see anything,” I say in a voice that doesn’t exactly shake, but doesn’t do me any favors, either.

“That line of buildings to the south of us is in the way. We need to find a better angle. Come on,” she says, and starts walking. The others follow her.

I stay put. I’m not walking across that death trap again unless I’m heading for the door. “I’ll take the east side,” I say, and creep along the railing by sliding my fists. No need to let go. No need to plummet thirty-five stories to my inglorious demise.

I scan piles of rubble with trees growing from their centers, broken metal spires leaning precariously over the remnants of roads, and random clusters of buildings that remain somewhat whole. My eyes are drawn to the edges of the Wasteland, steadily encroaching on the borders of the city. Nothing moves. Nothing is out of place.

But when I lift my eyes above the tree line, I see faint lines of smoke drifting up into the air from the bluff just beyond the city limits.

“Fire?” I ask, because apparently along with a shaking voice and a white-knuckle grip on the railing, I feel the need to humiliate myself by stating the obvious.

“Campfires,” Willow says. “The army. That’s what took us so long. We had to go west and circle back around to avoid them.”

“Our lookouts have reported that the army has been getting closer every day,” Ian says.

“If they get any closer, they’ll be able to hear you snoring in your sleep,” Willow says.

“I don’t snore.” Ian sounds offended.

“Right. And bunnies don’t reproduce every time they look at each other, either.”

“The army is right on top of us. I think the only reason they haven’t already attacked is because they don’t know exactly where we are.” Quinn appears at my elbow. If he notices the death grip I have on the railing, he doesn’t react.

Rachel’s voice is fierce. “The Commander will send scouts. We should—”

“Oh, he sent scouts,” Willow says. “Five of them. And they were doing a good job of searching the city. Unfortunately for them, all they managed to find was me.”

“You killed them?” Ian asks.

“No. I invited them over for dinner.” She smacks his shoulder. “The sun is almost down. By the time the Commander realizes his scouts aren’t coming back, it will be too dark to send more. He can’t risk us seeing torchlight, and they can’t search these ruins without light.”

“You scare me a little,” Ian says, but his voice is full of admiration.

Adam steps closer to Willow. “She’s good at everything she does.”

Quinn clears his throat. “Maybe we should get back to the problem?”

“We can’t travel at night,” I say. “We need light as well. But we can leave at dawn, and—”

“They’ll leave at dawn, too,” Adam says. “And if they’re that close already, there’s no way we can outrun them. Not with children and elderly and the wagons.”

“Which is why we’re going to create a barrier between us,” I say. “Something they can’t cross.”

Rachel meets my eyes, and her smile is cold and bright. “Fire.”

I match her smile with one of my own. “Fire. And when the army finally gets past the blaze, we won’t be where they expect, because we’re leaving the main road behind.”

“What are we waiting for?” Willow asks. “Let’s go burn something down.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

RACHEL

A
s the sun disintegrates into ribbons of fire in the western sky, we huddle at the edge of the rooftop, scanning the southern entrance to the city while we make a plan.

“Those houses along the western edge look like they’d burn.” Adam points toward a dilapidated row of homes that skirt the city limit.

“There’s plenty of flammable debris through the side streets that lead to this building, too,” Willow says.

“We’ll create a firebreak behind those houses at the edge of the city.” Logan’s voice is calm, though he won’t relinquish his grip on the guardrail that encircles the rooftop. “We’ll go out in teams after dark. One team will create a twenty-yard perimeter behind the houses to keep the fire from spreading toward us. The other team will gather wood, dried grass, underbrush . . . anything that will burn. We’ll spread the flammable materials in thirty-yard lines from the houses and into the Wasteland to help the fire head toward the bluff.”

“And then we light it?” Adam asks as we turn toward the stairwell.

“No,” Logan says. “We get a few hours of sleep, make sure we’re ready to travel just before dawn, and
then
light it. We need to be ready to move the instant that fire catches, just in case. The flames and smoke will obscure the Commander’s sight line, and he’ll have to find another way through the city, because the whole main entrance will be on fire.”

After a quick dinner, Logan and I divide up our nighttime volunteers. Logan takes those who will be working on the firebreak, mostly because he can’t stand not to be in complete control of how much distance the team creates between the line of houses we’re using to start the fire and the road that leads directly to our shelter. I take those who are gathering materials to create a sustained blaze large enough to both camouflage our movements and force the army to find another path. We leave Frankie and Eric in charge of guarding the entrance to our shelter and make sure every volunteer understands that we have to work in pairs and stay alert.

None of us have forgotten that we have a Rowansmark tracker out there waiting for the chance to kill again.

Ian, Thom, Jodi, Cassie, Derreck, Smithson, and Sylph are on my team. The row of houses perched at the southern edge of the main road are leaning against each other like unevenly stacked books just waiting for a strong wind to push them over. Jodi, Cassie, Smithson, and Derreck gather armloads of flammable debris from the team creating the firebreak and from the streets closest to the houses. Thom, Ian, Sylph, and I create trails for the fire to follow straight into the Wasteland and toward the army camped on the bluff above us.

Hours pass. We work in near silence as the stars slowly drift across the night sky. Occasionally, we hear snatches of loud conversation and laughter echoing down from the bluff, as if the soldiers are already celebrating a victory. As if they’re so sure they can annihilate us.

Every word, every laugh, pours salt on a wound I don’t know how to bandage. Somewhere up on that bluff, the man who ruined my life eats his dinner. Gives his orders. Stares at the dark ruins of this city and congratulates himself on winning the game.

As I drag another branch into place and sprinkle rough stalks of grass over it, I come to a decision. We wouldn’t have to light this fire if the Commander was dead. We wouldn’t have to flee toward Lankenshire like deer trying to outrun a hunter. We could find peace.

I could find peace.

It’s not that far to the bluff. Without the group to slow me down, I can be there in an hour. Maybe less if I don’t run into any guards. I’ll scout out the army’s camp, find where the Commander is staying, and then shoot him in the head with an arrow. The army might come after me then, but I’ll have darkness on my side, and they’ll never find me. Dropping the rest of the grass onto the branch, I turn and silently melt into the Wasteland.

“Going somewhere?”

I whip my knife out of its sheath before I realize the person standing just yards away from me is Ian. “Don’t
do
that. I could’ve killed you.” I fight to keep my voice down. If I can hear the army, they can hear me.

“You could’ve tried.” He steps closer and the starlight gleams against the angles of his face. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?”

“For killing the Commander. That’s where you were going, right?” He jerks his chin toward the bluff and says quietly, “I’m in. What’s the plan?”

“I sneak up to the camp, look for the Commander, and shoot him with an arrow.”

Ian is silent for a moment, and then he says in a fierce whisper, “That’s a terrible plan. One girl and one arrow against an army of hundreds?”

“Who says I have just one arrow?”

He grabs my arm. “Normally, I like your kind of crazy. But this is our chance. Remember? We made a deal. We can’t take down the Commander by sneaking into their camp. Don’t you think every single soldier is on the lookout for a girl with red hair and a nasty look in her eyes?”

“That’s the beauty of a bow and arrow.” I shake my arm free. “You can shoot from a distance.”

“And if you miss? Or if you can’t find him without getting close enough to be seen? Or if he’s out of range? Then what?”

I glare even though he can’t see my expression. “You’re starting to sound a lot like Logan.
What’s your exit strategy, Rachel? What’s your backup plan?
”

“Shh.” Ian looks over his shoulder for a second. Then he says, “We already have our backup plan. We use the device. Logan proved that it works. We destroy the enemy, and then it’s over.”

“I don’t have the device. Logan does. He wears it strapped to his chest, and he isn’t going to just give it to us.” I shove my knife back into its sheath. Time is slipping away from me. If I’m going to make it to the bluff, find the Commander, and hopefully shoot him where he sits, I have to leave now.

“And you can’t think of a single thing you could do out here in the dark to get him to take it off? We need it, Rachel.”

“What do you need?” Thom asks behind us.

I grit my teeth and bend to grab another branch as if all I have planned for the evening is the task of laying fuel for tomorrow’s fire. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“Do you make a habit of eavesdropping?” Ian asks, and there’s an edge to his voice.

“If you hadn’t been so focused on trying to convince Rachel to do something for you, you’d have heard me come up,” Thom says. “We still need to work on the eastern fuel trails. Let’s go.”

“I’m going to finish up here. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I say.

“No one’s working alone. There’s a tracker out here. Might be army scouts, too. We’ll wait for you.” Thom folds his big arms across his chest and watches us both.

Perfect. Now how am I supposed to get to the bluff? If I just leave, Thom will tell Logan in a heartbeat. I have no trouble envisioning what Logan would do with that piece of news.

I also have no trouble remembering the hurt in his eyes when he begged me not to sacrifice myself for revenge and leave him with no one.