The Capture (5 page)

H
OPE LEADS THE WAY,
cutting through the deepest part of the forest. Far behind her she can see the soldiers' headlamps bouncing through the woods, splashing tree trunks with miniature white spotlights.

They run through the night. As the sky brightens from black to gray, Hope thinks of Book, trying to reconcile these very different pictures she has of him. The one who kissed her so passionately. The one who stalks her at night. The one who's leaving Cat behind. They're like pieces of a puzzle that don't quite fit.

And what's the real reason he abandoned his friend? Could it have anything to do with jealousy?

They speed down a hill and come to a skidding stop. Below them is a raging river—all these days of rain
have swollen it past its banks. Dead trees are swept downstream in a muddy froth of spewing rapids. There is no way to get across.

At that same moment, the soldiers crest the hill behind them, half a mile back. They kneel and fire. Bullets whisper overhead. Some pockmark the earth like hailstones. The Sisters and Less Thans crouch on the riverbank.

“Well?” Dozer demands. “What now?”

Hope looks into the river. It's pure white water, pounding the rocks and cutting away at the banks. She pities anyone who falls into it.

As they're about to do.

“As soon as you hit the water, pull your knees up to your chin,” she instructs. “Don't try to swim—just float. Face forward and use your feet as springs.”

Eyebrows arch in surprise.

“Wait a minute,” Flush says. “We're not going to jump in there, are we?”

She doesn't bother to reply. Sometimes it's better just to demonstrate a thing than explain it.

She leaps to the very middle of the stream and the current sucks her under, tumbling her head over heels until she is completely upside down, disoriented. Her arms take her to the bottom of the river, where her fingers scrape a thick layer of silt and mud. The murky current throws her against a boulder, and what little air
she has in her lungs is pushed out. Stars blink.

It's the flooded tunnel all over again.

Sunlight sparkles on the water and Hope reaches for it, following a trail of silver bubbles and straining for the sky itself. She breaks the surface and gasps for air. She's gotten only a small breath before the river pulls her back under, dumping huge mouthfuls of water down her throat. She rises back up, hacking and sputtering and retching until her lungs are on fire.

But she's on the surface.

She brings her knees to her chest, and her feet bounce off one boulder after another like a marble in a maze. The Sisters and Less Thans are still on the riverbank, paralyzed with fear. A bullet catches a Sister in the back, and she crumples to the earth.

Book and Argos jump into the raging river, then all the others. In no time, thirteen bobbing heads poke above the surface.

The water is icy cold, and Hope's feet and fingers grow numb. She flails her arms to get some circulation going. When the river widens and slows, she paddles, both to warm herself and to put even more distance between her and the Brown Shirts. Then the river narrows, sluicing through tight gorges in a rush of whitewater. It's just Hope and the water and the towering canyons.

She bobs along like a cork for hours, the river taking
her farther and farther south. Finally, it widens for good. Green grasslands lie on either side, and a sandbar juts in front of her. Her feet find the pebbly riverbed and she stands up. Her legs are stiff from cold, and it's all she can do to lurch toward shore.

The first to join her is Book. They barely look each other in the eye.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She nods. “Just cold. You?”

“Same.”

An awkward silence follows. “Look, about what happened,” he starts to say, but soon the others appear.

They drag themselves out of the river on frozen limbs, trembling from cold, their lips icy blue. Argos gives his fur a shake. The Sisters' dresses cling to their bodies like a second layer of skin.

“Why'd you do it?” Dozer demands, emerging from the water like some Creature from the Black Lagoon. “Why'd you kill our friend?”

“He was my friend, too,” Book replies.

“So why'd you kill him?”

“I was trying to save him. He would've died otherwise.”

Dozer weighs a good fifty pounds more than Book, and when he grabs Book's shirt with his two meaty fists, there's no way Book can squirm free. “Cat could've lived. All we had to do was bring him with us.”

“I'm telling you, he wouldn't've made it if we'd carried him.”

“And I'm telling
you
, you don't know what you're talking about. Now he's gonna die for sure.”

Book opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it.

“So now what, Limp?”

“Same as before,” Book says. “Return to Camp Liberty and free those Less Thans.”

“You really think we can get past Hunters and Brown Shirts with
slingshots and arrows
? After what just happened?”

“We don't have a choice.”

Dozer spits and shakes his head from side to side.

It occurs to Hope they should be relieved. They survived an ambush from the Brown Shirts. But a single glance makes it clear they're stuck in the middle of a barren wilderness—far to the south from where they want to be. And they don't have Cat.

“Let's get a fire going and dry off,” Hope says. “We can talk about this later.”

Dozer's gaze flicks between Hope and Book, as though he can't decide if they're crazy or just plain idiots. Then he turns and calls out to the others, “Let's get a fire going and dry off!” Like it was his idea all along. He begins digging a pit in the sand.

“Not on shore,” Hope points out. “Somewhere hidden
behind a hill, so the Brown Shirts can't spot us.”

Dozer stares her up and down. “Whatever you say,
Last Hope
.”

As he walks away, he mutters to Red, “First this crazy Camp Liberty plan, then abandoning Cat, then jumpin' in that river. I'm tellin' ya, these two are dangerous.”

The more Hope surveys her surroundings, the more she realizes how dire their situation is. There's not a single tree in sight. It's bald savannah for as far as they can see. Thin grass bending under a blazing sun. No trees. No shade. Just undulating grasslands beneath sky, sky, and more sky.

As Flush puts it, “This place is as bare as my butt.”

Because of the endless acres of dry grass, tinder is no problem, and they're able to get a flame going fairly easily, propped up with driftwood. Hope is surprised to see a separate fire fifty yards away: Dozer and three others. Perhaps it makes sense. Twelve is too many to crowd around a single flame.

That's their new number now: twelve. In addition to losing Cat, two Sisters died as well. Rosa was shot down by Brown Shirts, and Taran drowned. So even though six Less Thans and six Sisters have made it, there is a somber atmosphere throughout camp. Survivor's guilt. Hope knows it well.

They huddle around the meager fire, drying out wet
and ragged clothes. No one speaks, their eyes lost in the waving flames. Hope feels responsible for the two Sisters' deaths. She didn't protect them.

It's not the first time she's felt this way.

She moves away from the fire, offering as an excuse that she's going to find more wood. The river beckons her, and she walks its barren shore deep in thought. It bends and winds like a slithering snake, sand squishing between her toes.

She is grateful for the solitude, and surprised when she spies someone else looking for wood.

Book.

At first they work in silence. Just the river lapping against the bank, the breeze tugging at Hope's hair. She tucks what little there is behind an ear. When she looks up, Book is studying her.

“What?” she asks.

“Sorry about your friends,” he says. “I know you lost two back there and—”

“I'm fine.” Hope regrets that her tone is so brusque, but she can't help herself. The fact is: she
isn't
fine—not by a long shot. She misses Faith. And her dad. And mom. And now Book abandoned Cat and she's leading her Sisters to some camp way on the other side of the Western Federation Territory. No, she's not remotely fine.

If he's offended, he doesn't show it. “That was a good
call,” he says, “jumping in the river.”

“You think so? We lost two girls back there.”

“We would've
all
been lost if we hadn't done it. If you hadn't jumped in first.”

Something softens her. Maybe it's his kindness. Maybe it's the quiet of the dusk. The river gurgles and coos, and a fish breaks the surface and plops back down into the murky depths. An indigo haze settles on the riverbanks. The sense of peace is like an actual warmth spreading through her chest.

She sits back on her haunches and for a brief instant, their eyes catch . . . and then they return to scrounging for wood. Their palms and knees are damp from sand.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Sure.”

“Why'd you do it?”

“What?”

“Leave Cat behind.” It's something she can't stop thinking about.

Book looks up. The expression on his face is stiff, and his jaw has tightened.

“Because it was the only thing to do,” he says.

Hope hears the tension in his voice, but she can't help asking more. “What makes you think they won't kill him? Or let him die?”

“The Brown Shirts won't let that happen.”

“Why not? You really think they're gonna stop
everything and take care of a wounded Less Than?” She doesn't mean it to come out as sarcastic as it does.

“Yes, that's exactly what they're going to do,” Book says through gritted teeth. “Before Cat was a Less Than, he was a Young Officer. He was in training to be one of the Republic's leaders. He knows things. He knows things about
us
. He's more valuable to them alive than dead. So yes, the Brown Shirts'll do their best to revive him. I don't doubt that for a second.”

It does make a certain kind of sense, but Hope's not sure if she agrees. Before she can even respond, Book grabs an armful of wood and marches off. Hope watches him go, cursing herself for pushing him away.

Why did I have to do that?
Why didn't I just keep my big mouth shut?

She leans forward and buries her face in her hands.

I
HAD NO APPETITE.
Even though the Sisters carved lances from driftwood and caught a dozen brown trout feeding in the shallows, I couldn't eat. How could I put food in my stomach as long as Cat was gone? And just when I thought I was okay with my decision to leave him behind, Hope had to bring it back up.

Thanks a lot.

I sat by the fire's edge, my eyes trained on the swirling smoke. Maybe it was silly of me to be so paranoid, but I couldn't help it. It was impossible not to notice how the others regarded me. My decision to “abandon”
Cat brought scorn from my fellow Less Thans, raised eyebrows from the Sisters, suspicion from
everyone
. I could just imagine what they were thinking:
Book was
jealous of Cat, so he decided to leave him behind.

And it was true: I was jealous of Cat. I saw how he and Hope looked at each other. I'd even caught them red-handed, sneaking off in the woods together.

Which hurt even more because Cat was my friend. We'd confided in each other. Told each other things we hadn't shared with anyone. My suicide attempt. The fact that Major Karsten—the most ruthless officer at Camp Liberty—was his dad. Secrets.

There was no way I'd leave him back there out of jealousy.

Was there?

Whatever my reasoning, the stark reality was that things would never be the same. We could maybe return to Camp Liberty and free those Less Thans—
maybe
—but we'd miss Cat's skills, his insights, his smarts. Him.

I remembered what he'd been telling me at the campfire that night, that not everyone was committed. What more was he trying to let me know?

I'd seen someone tiptoeing away from camp the night of the ambush. Was that same someone secretly helping out the Brown Shirts?

A million stars exploded in the sky as I marched to the other campfire, the one surrounded by Dozer, Red, Angela, and Lacey. Once the four of them caught sight of me, they cut off their conversation and eyed me in silence.

I held out some leftover trout to them.

“We don't need your pity,” Dozer said, turning his back to me.

“I'm just offering some food, that's all.”

“Yeah, well, we don't need it.”

He threw a log into the fire. A flurry of embers exploded into the black.

I looked at the other three. One by one they met my gaze . . . and then found reasons to look away. Lacey studied her feet. Angela ran her fingers through her stringy blond hair. Red picked at the dirt beneath his fingernails with the tip of his knife.

This was going to be more difficult than I'd imagined.

Dozer's head swiveled back around. “You still here?” he asked.

“I just thought maybe we should talk.”

“Now? After you made the decision to leave Cat back there,
now
you wanna talk?”

“About those Brown Shirts,” I said. “How do you think they were able to ambush us?”

That got everyone's attention.

“How should I know, Limp?” Dozer said, and even in the dark I could see his eyes were blazing. “They found us and opened fire. End of story.”

“But how'd they find us?”

“What do you mean
how
? We saw them earlier, we saw their bulldozers. They probably just followed us.”

“Those were construction workers. It was soldiers who ambushed us.”

Dozer's hand fell to his knife, and I could see the white of his knuckles as he squeezed the handle. “What're you saying, Limp? That one of us squealed?”

I took a deep breath; I didn't want to make a bad situation worse. “I'm saying it seems awfully coincidental they just happened to show up when they did. Like maybe they got help or something.”

Dozer hauled himself to his feet and took a step forward. Angela and Lacey also rose, bookending him on either side.

“If you're accusing someone of something, why don't you just come out and say it instead of pussyfooting around? Unless that's what you are. Pussyfoot.”

The two Sisters laughed maliciously.

“No, I'm just saying—”

“And I'm
just saying
:
why don't you speak your mind?
Pussyfoot.
”

“Skip it,” I said, my legs suddenly rubber. If I'd thought I could get Dozer to admit to being a traitor, I was sadly mistaken. I turned and walked away, half expecting to feel the point of his dagger somewhere between my shoulder blades.

“Hey!” Dozer yelled after me. “Next time you start accusing people, make sure you have some evidence to back you up.”

Even as I strode farther and farther away, their spiteful laughter rang out in the night air.

A sharp kick to the ribs jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to find Dozer holding a torch. He was flanked by his posse of three.

“Some of us have been talking,” he said. The pain in my ribs was nothing compared to the sudden knot in my stomach.

“Yeah?” I asked, rolling to a sitting position, hands pressed to my side.

“We wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't convinced us to cross back from the other territory.”

“I didn't
convince
you. I made the decision to come back; the rest of you followed.”

A hiss of contempt escaped his mouth. He shook his head and spat into the coals. A glob of frothy white phlegm dribbled down a log. A number of Sisters sat up, wanting to know what was going on.

“And it goes without saying that we don't like what you did to Cat back there. So my tribe here doesn't exactly trust you, and I can't say I blame them.”

I wondered how much of his “tribe”
had come up with that opinion and how much they had been convinced by Dozer himself. The three torch-carrying tribe members had all the makings of a vigilante mob. All that was missing were the pitchforks.

“So what're you saying?” I asked.

“Someone sold us out to the Brown Shirts. I'm not accusing you necessarily, but someone let 'em know where we were.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Dozer was saying exactly what I'd told him hours earlier. It reminded me of a line from a lawyer movie we'd seen back at camp—
Inherit the Wind
. Accuse the accuser. A classic legal ploy.

“So what do you want, Dozer?”

Dozer's response was immediate. “The tribe thinks I should be the new leader.”

I don't know why his statement surprised me. Maybe because it made no real sense. Why would we want a leader who made it a point to bad-mouth everyone and everything? Who had made a nuisance of himself whenever given the chance?

“Fine,” I said. Truth was, I had no great desire to be the leader, and it was irrelevant to me who got us to Camp Liberty to free those Less Thans—just as long as we did it.

Dozer tried to hide his surprise. It was obvious he expected a fight. “It's not my decision,” he said, trying to sound humble. “It's the others.”

“I understand.”

“They trust me.”

“Okay.”

“They know I'll be a good leader.”

The only response I could have made would have been sarcastic, so I kept my mouth shut. When it was clear I wasn't going to say anything else, Dozer raised his torch high in the air like he was summoning the gods above.

“Listen up,” he shouted, so that all could hear. “I'm leading this group from now on. I'm in charge. But I won't be telling you what to do. My hope is that we can make decisions as a group.”

He shot me a meaningful look, as if to say Cat would still be here if we'd followed that policy before. Although I didn't expect anyone to challenge Dozer and his lackeys, I hoped someone would speak up on my behalf. But no one said a word. Not a single person. Not Flush. Not Twitch.

Not Hope.

I lay back down to sleep, knowing no nightmare could be worse than this reality. Dozer began to walk away.

“Just remember,” I muttered beneath my breath. “‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.'”

Dozer stopped in his tracks. “What's that?” he snapped.

Me and my Shakespeare. I regretted speaking as soon as the words left my mouth. “Nothing.”

He lowered the torch until the heat licked my cheeks.
“No, what'd you just say?”

“Nothing.”

There was an almost gleeful expression on Dozer's face as he looked to his friends. “He said something. You heard him: he said something.” Angela and Lacey nodded like a couple of puppets.

Dozer returned his stare to me. “What'd you say?”

“Nothing,” I repeated, angry that I'd fallen into Dozer's trap.

“We can't have that, Book. The worst thing we can have is insurrection.”

“
Insurrection?
You've been talking trash for weeks. You've been openly mocking my decisions ever since we left Camp Liberty. You freaked out in the Brown Forest and nearly killed Four Fingers. And you're accusing
me
of insurrection?”

“That's it!” he barked. “I have no choice but to place you under house arrest.”

I thought for a second he was joking. “What're you talking about?”

Dozer turned to Red. “Take his knife away.”

Before I knew it, Red walked to my side and ripped my knife from its sheath—all because I'd quoted a line from
Henry IV
.

I appealed silently to the others. Red. Flush.
Hope.
All averted their eyes, not wishing to meet my stare. Only Argos bristled, emitting a low growl in the back of
his throat. Angela and Lacey reached for their daggers.

“No, boy,” I said. I knew if he went after Dozer, they'd knife him in a second and fry him up for breakfast. Argos sat, the growl still vibrating his neck.

Dozer smiled that hyena grin of his and then turned to the others. “If anyone dares arm this Less Than, we'll have no choice but to consider it an act of treason, and they'll face similar consequences.” He sounded like some medieval king meting out punishment to a peasant. “Now everyone back to sleep. We're moving out tomorrow.”

“Which way are we going?” I asked, careful not to add
O powerful leader
at the end of the sentence.

“Due south,” he answered.

“South?” I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly. “We're already way too south as it is, and Camp Liberty is to the northwest.”

“And we're heading
south
.”

“Then how can we save the Less Thans?”

“We're not saving any Less Thans. We're saving ourselves.”

Dozer was daring me—or anyone—to contradict him. No one did.

As he and his minions disappeared into the black, I was consumed by a gnawing anger. Not just that we were abandoning the Less Thans, but that not one person had uttered a peep in my defense. Fine—if they
wanted Dozer to be their leader, they could have him.

I'd get to Camp Liberty on my own. I was damned if I was going to let some power-hungry, lie-spewing, sour-breathed, barrel-chested bully stop me. Even if no one else believed in me, I still did.

One way or the other, I was going to make this happen.