The Escape (3 page)

No. Something else was going on.

“Jenna’s not in the camp,” Lanche said, “at least not according to any logs or sign-ins. No one’s seen her. She’s on the run. You’ll need to pack a two-week supply and find her before she gets too far.”

Barker frowned. There it was. He was being sent because he was expendable. “No one ever comes back after they leave Grand Central, sir.”

“I’m not sending you on a suicide mission, Barker. Man up. Jenna is a dangerous, murdering whore, and she needs to be brought in for justice, or no one will sleep well knowing she’s out there. You’ll be doing your country a service.”

Yeah right.
Like anyone was afraid of little, unarmed Jenna. Then again, no one had been afraid of Taryn, either—and look what she’d done. And with Jenna at her side, or so it seemed.

But Barker didn’t like the idea of running after her, especially if she was as dangerous as Lanche said. Even if he never found her, leaving the camp alone
was
a suicide mission.

If he were in a dangerous situation, like being attacked by a gang of scavengers, there’d be no way to radio for help. He’d die alone on the street. Then again, so would she.

The Jenna he’d met on line for rations three months ago didn’t seem to match the crazy killer that Lanche was describing. Maybe he could find her, and convince Lanche to let her live.

“Will she be executed when I bring her back, sir?”

Lanche frowned, as if he was about to tell him to mind his own fucking business. But then he shook his head. “She’ll be questioned. I need to know what she thinks she knows. If she knows nothing, and if she had no part in the murder after all, then she’ll be free to go about her business.”

The Colonel smiled, and Barker wanted desperately to believe him. Wanted to believe that there was still some semblance of law and order in their post-Pulse world. Wanted to believe that the Colonel wasn’t really sending him away, alone, because he didn’t give two shits if Barker died trying to follow his orders. And he wanted to believe that Jenna was innocent, and everything would go back to normal.

“Does that ease your mind, Private? I’m not asking you to bring a lamb to slaughter. Bring her home for questioning, and I’ll take it from there.”

Home.
As if anyone considered Grand Central their home.

“Barker, think about this for a moment. You’re a smart guy. Lawyer, right?”

Barker nodded almost imperceptibly. Being a lawyer meant nothing when there were no trials, and when the Colonel was judge, jury and executioner in one.

“Jenna’s always been a good girl, before she got caught up with Taryn. I happen to have a . . . a soft spot for her myself.” Lanche frowned. “What if she tells us that Taryn went psycho and killed Andrews, and that Jenna had been trying to save him? Tried to stop Taryn? I couldn’t possibly fault her for that. I just need to know what happened, that’s all.”

“I thought you said she was a murdering whore who wasn’t found naked under Andrew’s dead body for no reason,” Barker said softly. “Sir.”

“I forgot who I was talking to,” Lanche laughed, his voice friendly. “Forgot that you’re like me, you like to hear things out before making up your mind. Isn’t that right, Private?”

Barker didn’t respond.

“All I need is to talk to Jenna, to find out her side of the story. We owe that to Private Andrews, don’t you think? And to Jenna, as well. She’s probably running scared out there, in terrible danger. She could die out there alone, not realizing that I would welcome her back to Grand Central with open arms. As long as she’s innocent.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Well . . . that’s why you need to be careful. We don’t know who to trust these days, do we?” The Colonel smiled sadly. “Bring her in for questioning. You won’t be killing her by following orders, soldier. You’ll be saving that poor girl from getting robbed, raped, and killed out there on those dangerous streets. She needs to be here, where it’s safe.”

Barker let out a deep sigh, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath waiting for the answer. He’d just have to bring her in for questioning, nothing more.

If Jenna was innocent, then she’d be fine.

“I’ll bring her back, sir.”

Emily and Mason’s cabin, upstate New York

Emily
Rosen smiled up at Mason. “Any luck?”

Mason held the box for her to see. “Another rabbit. I’m gonna add him to the pen with the others.”

Emily sighed, pushing her long dark hair out of her eyes. “Mason, please, can’t we just eat him? We have six others in the pen. I don’t think breeding them is working, so why should we starve?”

Mason shook his head and walked out with the box, dropping the rabbit off with the other rabbits, no doubt. Hoping it would make a lady friend.

Emily ran out after him. It was a beautiful day. They had peace and quiet, except for the quacking of the geese on the lake. When she’d first met him, after she’d escaped Grand Central, he’d been adept at hunting, breeding, and killing rats for food. But now that they were far outside of civilization, his biggest fear was that they’d hunt out their own land and starve.

“Better to be a little hungry now while nature replenishes our stock, than to die later.” He picked her up, holding her against his muscular chest. “You know I’m right.”

“I know.” She gave him a kiss. “It’s just hard to see all this meat walking around.”

Mason laughed and set her down. “Let’s dig up some potatoes. You’ll feel better.”

When they found the abandoned cabin, the vegetable garden had been overgrown and filled with weeds. With care, it was doing well. But whoever had lived there before hadn’t meant for the place to be a full-time residence. Together, Emily and Mason kept replanting seeds, using minimal firewood, and giving the fish, geese, and rabbits time to reproduce so they wouldn’t be without a source of food.

Emily dug her hands in the moist earth. She’d rather be doing this any day, with Mason, than be stuck on the Tracks.

“You have that look on your face again,” Mason said, coming up behind her. “Which bad memory is it? The Tracks, or the cannibals?”

He knew her so well. “I just worry about her, that’s all.”

She didn’t need to say who she was talking about. Her only friend on the Tracks, the one person she’d been willing to risk Mason’s life for so he could go back to the camp and tell her friend the truth about American Victory Radio.

“You tried your best. Jenna didn’t want to hear it, that’s all. It was too much to believe, and there was too much to risk. She was okay living at Grand Central—and she’s okay now.”

A dirt-covered potato popped up out of the dirt, and Emily set it aside before digging for another. “It doesn’t matter how many times you tell me that, I still don’t believe anyone living in that hellhole is okay.”

“You got out. We’re alive. That’s all that matters.” Mason picked up the potatoes and took her hand, not seeming to care it was covered in dirt. “And I love you. That matters too.”

Emily nodded. “I’d better make potato soup before I eat this thing raw.”

“Hey, baby—try to forget about Jenna, okay? It’s not healthy for you to stress yourself out over something you have no control over.”

“There are a few things I’ll never forget for as long as I live.” She looked into his handsome face and blinked back tears that threatened to fall. “Jenna’s one of them.”

New York City

Jenna had been
walking for hours, and her feet were killing her. She wished she could get rid of the glass candle filled with water in her waistband—it was slowing her down. But until she found a water bottle or canteen or something, she needed to keep what limited supplies she had.

The streets were so different now. So quiet. Every single store had their gates down, but every window was still broken.

She kept her eyes out for things to steal, but everything worth stealing had already been looted. Even the cars were empty, their gas tanks open, the gasoline siphoned out.

“I need a bike,” she said to no one.

That was another thing she needed. Some company. Every day for the past year, she’d been surrounded by people. No night was spent alone. Yeah, she had her visitors. And fuck it, she didn’t feel guilty, either.

Being on the Tracks gave her an excuse to indulge her sexual addiction. It hadn’t been a sexual addiction before the Pulse, but without antidepressants around, sex was a quick, easy way to feel good and forget. Better than drugs.

Is it though?
Using sex as a coping mechanism probably wasn’t the healthiest way to deal. But it had kept her alive.

She should have listened to Emily’s friend Mason when he first told her about the radio. Should have planned, and just escaped with Taryn. Instead she’d frozen like a deer in headlights. Told Mason she’d be killed if anyone knew that she knew.

Which, apparently, was true.

Jenna turned abruptly, checking behind her. Ghosts kept following her. At least, she was pretty sure they were ghosts, even in the daytime. Because while a group of soldiers should have come for her by now, they hadn’t. She’d know them in an instant by the sound of a running motor—the army had confiscated all the old cars that didn’t have computer chips in them and still ran.

The moment she heard an engine, her plan was to hide and close her eyes. She couldn’t outrun a car.

But she could outrun the fucking ghosts.

Something behind her, maybe fifty yards back—though it was hard to tell with the way sound traveled along the empty streets—kept making little noises. A stumble here. A crunch there.

And there it was again.

“What the fuck!” she yelled, turning. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Bad move, Jenna. Way to tell the world your location.

At least the ghost was quiet now.

Jenna kept walking, not even sure exactly where she was headed. Toward the FDR, she thought. Her sense of direction had never been particularly good, and the tons of cars and rubbage blocking her path didn’t help to orient her.

Just keep walking straight.
If she kept walking, eventually she’d get somewhere, right?

Another noise, behind her. She whirled around.

“Leave me alone, please, leave me alone,” she whispered.

A man stepped out behind a stalled car. A soldier.

“I can’t do that,” he said. “Hands in the air.”

Jenna cursed and ran blindly, all thoughts about hiding gone.

Run. Run. Run girl, keep running.

The air rushed out of her as she was pushed to the ground by a hard shove between her shoulder blades. The glass candle in her waistband broke against the pavement, cutting her stomach and drenching her shirt with water.

“What the hell was that?” the soldier asked, surprised, and rolled her over, still on top, all of his weight pressing down on her.

“Please, let me go,” she begged. She reached for her knife, but the man pinned her arms above her head. “Fine, you wanna fuck? Let’s fuck. And then I go.”

“What?” The soldier frowned. “I’m not going to rape you.”

It was Barker. The nice soldier.

“Private Barker,” she whispered. “It’s you, right? Barker?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on, we have to go back to Grand Central.”

“No,” she said. “Wait. I’m hurt. You made me cut my belly.”

He held her hands with one of his, and slid the other hand along her body. But her first thought—sex—was wrong. He grabbed her makeshift knife and tossed it away from her.

“Please, I need that.”

“No, you don’t.” Barker finally got off of her, but kept one hand wrapped around her wrist.

Damn, he was good-looking. Even with that ugly shaved head that screamed “soldier” he was hot.

Seriously, Jenna? What does it matter how hot he is if he’s about to kill you?

“Don’t kill me,” she said.

“I won’t. I promise.”

For some reason, she believed him. Maybe because he gave her his ration that time. Maybe because he was the only unmarried man at the camp who never visited the Tracks like his buddies. Maybe because she had no choice. But she believed him.

“Can I look at my stomach, please? I want to see how bad it is.”

“I can’t risk you killing me with one of those glass shards. That’s how your roommate Emily killed the other Private Andrews. You girls are dangerous.”

“That’s how she did it, huh? Good. I’m glad.”

Barker furrowed his dark eyebrows. “Let me see if you’re injured. Don’t move.”

With careful, gentle hands, he brushed the glass away and lifted her wet and bloodied shirt.

“Your shirt protected you pretty well. You have two cuts here from the glass, but they don’t look deep.”

Jenna winced as he probed the wound, checking it. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No, but I know you’re all right. Okay? You’re fine. They’re just bleeding a little now. Nothing big.”

He pressed her shirt against the cuts, holding pressure on them. After a moment, he let go. Her stomach was fine, although it burned like a bitch.

“Please, you’re a good guy. I know you are,” she said. She looked up at him through her lashes, hoping to get him to see her as pretty, as feminine. To see her as a damsel in distress. “You can save me.”

“I
am
saving you, Jenna. You’ll die out here. I have orders from the Colonel to bring you back to the camp for questioning.”

Jenna gasped and grabbed him by the front of his uniform.

“He’ll kill me. You know he will.”

Barker shook his head. “Just questioning, okay? He won’t kill you if you’re innocent. He told me so.”

Jenna laughed. “You believe everything you hear? He shot Taryn. He’ll kill me too.”

“Taryn was executed for murdering a soldier.”

“A soldier who was about to kill me, Barker. Andrews’s brother. Don’t you get it? She was saving me, and now she’s dead. And if you take me back there, I’m dead too. You may as well kill me now and save me the trip.”

“No one’s going to kill you. Not me. Not anyone. Can I let you go?”

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t run.”

She smiled. “I’m badly injured. I can’t run.”

Barker raised his eyebrows but he let go of her wrist. “Stand up. We gotta head back before it gets dark.”

He helped her up, and she moaned, pretending the cuts on her stomach were worse than they were. She doubled over and turned away from him, gagging as if she might throw up from the effort.

Barker took a step back and she stood.

“I’m okay, thanks,” she said.

And then she ran.

Fuck. How had
he fallen for that?

Barker ran after the girl, determined to get her. He didn’t want to spend a night out on the streets of New York City if he could help it.

Get the girl. Get back to camp.

His legs were much longer than hers, and stronger. He caught up quickly and wrapped his arms around her to restrain her against his body.

“No, let me go,” she screamed.

“I can’t do that, Jenna.” He spoke softly, hoping it would make her calm down. Instead it seemed to enrage her even more.

She elbowed him in the gut and stomped on the inside of his shin down to his boot, but he held tightly.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. Still calm. Not taking the bait.

Jenna relaxed suddenly in his arms, though he could feel the frantic beating of her heart through her thin chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just got scared.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m going to tie your hands, and we’re going to walk back together.”

He pulled a plastic zip-tie from his cargo pants and wrapped it around her tiny wrists, effectively cuffing them behind her back.

She walked next to him silently for a full two minutes before she stopped.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

“It won’t take us too long to get back. A few hours. Maybe longer, with you walking so slowly.”

“Please, Barker, I have to pee. Can I go pee?”

He wasn’t going to fall for one of her tricks again. “Fine.” He pulled her pants down and held her elbow. “Go.”

“What? Here?”

“Yes. Go. Or would you rather keep walking?”

Her ass was bare, her pussy exposed. Barker turned his head, not wanting to see. “Go on, take a piss and let’s go.”

“Forget it.” Jenna took a couple of hobbled steps, her pants around her legs. “Can you help me?”

But when Barker went to pull her pants up, she laid down on the cold pavement.

“Get up.”

“Look at me, Private Barker. You have me here, on the ground, my hands cuffed, my pants down, at your mercy . . .” She said the words with a sexy lilt to her voice, like she was describing his fantasy instead of what should have been her nightmare. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Yes. No. Fuck
.

“I’m not like that. Get up.”

“You’re gay?”

He’d been asked that plenty of times before simply because he wouldn’t take advantage of the women he was supposed to be protecting. But fuck no, he wasn’t gay.

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don’t tempt an honest man’? Get the hell up, Jenna.”

He reached down and pulled her pants up, and lifted her from the ground.

“Let’s walk.”

“I don’t believe you’re not gay.” She didn’t sound like she was teasing him.

“I really don’t care what you believe.”