Three (Article 5) (13 page)

He nodded, a perplexed look on his face. It was like he knew what Tucker had done and couldn’t figure out why I was so worried about him.

He wasn’t the only one.

“Thank you,” I said.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, he stared at the radio, as if expecting another voice to come through.

Our conversation was clearly over.

*   *   *

CHASE
was waiting outside the room, pacing in the hall. When he saw me he blew out a heavy breath, but we didn’t speak because beside him was an armed guard, a short man with a pointed nose, who reminded me a little of what Rat might have looked like in twenty years. An image of the dead man’s face, bloated and pale in the water, crept into my vision, and I stuffed it down, feeling my stomach turn.

We were led back through the cafeteria, and outside past the empty playground with its rusted slide and monkey bars on a crumbling cement path lit by a series of torches. Night had fallen, and darkness stretched its shadow out before us, giving the illusion that Endurance went on forever.

Down the path a plain cement building came into view. The entrance was hidden behind clotheslines crowded with the tunics and pants worn by the residents, all glowing a pale silver in the moonlight and fluttering gently in the breeze.

“Dorms,” grunted the guard.

The muscles in my legs tightened. “How many people are in there?”

“Sleeps eighty. It’ll sleep more tonight with you all.”

All those people close together. More than fifty bodies within fifty yards. I shuddered to a stop, unable to go farther.

“Aren’t you afraid the soldiers are going to find out about Endurance?” I whispered.

“No.” The guard kept walking. “We got measures in place so that won’t happen.”

“Plants in the FBR, you mean,” said Chase. The guard didn’t disagree.

My anxiety rose another notch. “What about the bombs? They run by body heat. The FBR just needs to point one in this direction, and…”

“And nothin’,” interrupted the guard. “We’d know if they planned to bomb us.”

He turned when he realized we weren’t following.

“And if they planned to bomb the safe house? Or Chicago? Would you know that?” Chase asked.

My blood ran cold, contrary to the balmy weather. After my discussion with Dr. DeWitt in the radio room, it seemed like a bad idea to accuse these people of knowing the MM’s plans to kill innocents.

Our guide turned, and lifted his gaze skyward. “Look, sometimes we win, sometimes we don’t. That’s the way in war.”

Part of me accepted this, but as we entered the dorms I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere was picking which tips to squash, and which to let slip by. That the safe house’s destruction could have been stopped. That all those people could have been saved.

*   *   *

I DIDN’T
know what to expect inside. The large room resembled one of the evacuation centers after the War, packed with row after row of bunk beds, nearly all filled with sleeping occupants. The mattresses, no more than thin pads, were draped with assorted blankets. The scuffed floor was littered with shoes and scored by pale red lines, like those in my high school gym. A few small groups whispered or played cards in the aisles. Dim flames flickered from candles lining the walls, but they did little to light the room.

Our people grouped together in the corner to my right. They slept close to one another, keeping a layer of separation between them and the residents. Only the kids mingled; I passed a dozen of varying ages passed out on an old wrestling mat as I made my way toward the back.

I’d nearly reached Billy, who was dead asleep and lying halfway off a cot, when a hand closed on my shoulder. Startled, I jumped, and turned to find Sean lifting his hands in surrender. He was wearing the same tan clothing as the others here wore.

“Just me.” Concern shadowed his face. “What did DeWitt want?”

Confidential,
DeWitt had said. I couldn’t help but feel like this was a test. Chase and I had already decided not to tell Jack that Truck was missing. It wouldn’t have done him any good to know, anyway.

I chewed my bottom lip; Chase was still buried in his thoughts, too consumed to answer.

“Just showing us around,” I said.

Sean waited for more, and when I didn’t offer any he frowned and pulled at the strings hanging from his shirt’s collar.

“I saved you guys a bunk. It’s above ours, so don’t make me regret it. You can pick up your cult attire and extra blankets over there.” He motioned toward an office, an offshoot from the main room where a stack of towels sat folded on the ledge of a half door. Chase went to pick up our supplies; though the idea of resting while Truck was missing, possibly captured, and half of our team was dead or injured, seemed selfish beyond belief.

“Cult attire looks good on you,” I said.

“I know.” He smirked. “They got all the material from an upholstery company down the road.”

“You asked?”

He tied the collar strings in a neat bow. “Of course I asked.”

Rebecca was already asleep, curled on her side on the bottom bunk when we arrived. Sean held the bed frame still while I climbed to the top, and leaned against the post while I settled.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay.” It was a testament to our friendship that he didn’t ask more.

I pulled off my shoes, sighing with a sudden, drenching fatigue that overrode the lingering worries. Rolling onto my stomach, I looked down on Sean, less than a foot below me. He still leaned against the post, staring down at Rebecca in a way that made me feel like I was intruding on something private and important. I flipped over onto my back.

“Ember?” Sean asked. The rustling in the bunks around us had tapered to deep, hypnotizing breaths.

“Yeah?” I whispered back.

“Your feet stink.”

I closed my eyes, a fleeting smile touching my lips.

“One day this is going to be over,” he said softly. “Then things will finally be normal.”

I wasn’t sure if he was telling me or himself; I didn’t even know what normal meant anymore. But after Chase returned and climbed up beside me, I wrapped myself as tightly as I could around him, and when my head came to rest on his heart I thought that whatever it was, it was worth fighting for. I just hoped this was the place to do it.

CHAPTER

9

WE
were awoken before dawn by the ringing of a bell. Groggy, I dragged myself up, moving through a line to the women’s showers outside the dorms. Then I finally changed into my upholstery “cult attire.” Though it was scratchy, it was clean, and my skin felt shiny and new after so many days tromping through the sand and grass. When we were ready, Will led us to the back entrance of the lodge near the playground and cafeteria.

I could smell breakfast cooking—some kind of meat and more of the bread we’d had before—but the comforting scents couldn’t take away the bad feeling rooting in my gut. The call with Tucker and the news he delivered gnawed at me. We needed to find out more—where he was headed, if they’d heard anything about Truck, and what DeWitt had meant when he said he wanted our help to catch the one ratting out the resistance bases. The other part was still sick about the photo from the rehab hospital, and wanted nothing more than to grab Chase and run.

“You look rested.” DeWitt strode through the cafeteria door appearing the exact opposite of rested; his jaw was rough with stubble and dark rings bruised his eyes. I remembered the quick way he’d dismissed me from his office and was curious how he’d spent the last several hours.

Beside me, Chase crossed his arms over his chest, looking like someone from another time with his strange clothes and damp black hair shagging over his ears. The stoic expression on his face brought his uncle to mind, but when I glanced around, Jesse was nowhere to be found. I was just about to ask Chase about it when I heard Billy say, “Uh-oh.”

I followed where he pointed, to the flock of people moving toward us through the trees a half mile away. As I watched they became too numerous to count—a hundred, then double that. Men and women, some as old as Dr. DeWitt and some younger than me. Their tunics were slightly darker, blending with the earth, but otherwise the only discernible difference between them and the other residents were the rifles, slung from straps across their chests. One figure stood out in the front—an older man with a patch over his eye who looked too frail to belong with the others. Though he walked more slowly than I imagined the rest could, no one passed him.

“Please tell me they’re with you,” said Sean.

Three’s leader nodded behind him to the north wing. “Endurance has a brain.” He pointed to the cafeteria. “A stomach.” The dorms. “A heart.” Then to the playground, where a group of children were playing tag. “And a soul. Our walls make up its bones, and our men make up its muscle.”

“You’ve got an army?” Chase was impressed, and standing beside him, I couldn’t help but feel it, too. A trained army, even a small one, could make a dent in the MM’s momentum. Three had to be planning something important. My mind again turned to the fallen bases, and the attack on Tucker’s team.

“
We’ve
got people willing to fight,” corrected DeWitt. “Within these gates there is no I.”

Doubt skittered through me. DeWitt had spoken of trust and discretion last night. Maybe we were all on the same team, but he was full of secrets.

The army approached, moving like cats: silent, with smooth, predatory strides. They merged with the other residents, and together observed us with interest.

Sweat dewed on my hairline.

“Endurance,” DeWitt called out. “I give you our newest members. Survivors, like us all. I know you’ll welcome them and teach them our ways.” Silence reigned over the courtyard. DeWitt sighed, as though the sky itself were weighing on his shoulders. “They have confirmed, as we feared, the fall of the safe house.” He waited as the murmurs rose, then faded. “Last night we intercepted a signal from a small team of rebels north of here. It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that Virginia has fallen. Reports of how substantial our loss is have yet to be determined. After Knoxville and Chicago, this makes four points hit in the last month.”

The whispers began to fly. Jack and Billy were the first to suspect Tucker and the carriers. I could hear Sean reassuring Rebecca and some of the others that we were safe here. I forced my gaze forward.

“The council is determining an appropriate course of action. In the meantime, return to your posts and await orders.”

With that, DeWitt placed his hand over his heart, like we used to do in school when we’d say the Pledge of Allegiance. All those before him did the same, even the children. Even Billy, who had about as much idea of what the gesture meant as I did.

Lines formed for breakfast, and as we went to them I caught sight of the guard who’d escorted Chase and me to the dorms last night. He stood two people behind us, and when I recognized him he quickly looked away.

“He’s been tailing us all morning.” Chase didn’t look back. “Stayed outside the dorms all night, too.”

“DeWitt doesn’t trust us,” I said under my breath. “He thinks we know something about the attacks on the resistance posts.”

A scowl passed over his face before he flattened his expression.

“Because of Tucker,” Chase surmised, biting down on the name. “Because he was broadcasting what happened, and looking for us.”

Maybe I’d been uncertain about Tucker since he’d been kicked out of the FBR, but Chase would never trust him. And even if I trusted Tucker sometimes, I would never forgive him.

We took a step closer to the food.

“And because we were in Chicago and Knoxville when they were hit,” I said.

Chase considered this, running his knuckles absently over his jaw.

“We have to prove we had nothing to do with it,” said Chase. “I’d rather the MM want us dead than Three.”

“Agreed.” At least with the soldiers chasing us we could hide with the resistance. If the resistance was chasing us, nowhere was safe.

The guard behind us appeared in my peripheral vision, closer than before. Our conversation was no longer private.

“Where’s your uncle?” I asked. “He wasn’t here during Dr. DeWitt’s announcement.”

Chase stood tall, shielding his eyes from the sun as he searched. He nodded to my right, where Jesse appeared as if summoned.

“Nephew. And neighbor.” Freshly shaven and with hair still damp, Jesse threw his arm over Chase’s shoulders. I found myself mirroring Chase’s scowl. With DeWitt on the hunt for traitors to the cause, Jesse should have been more careful to wake up on time.

“Bad news, kid,” smirked Jesse. “Looks like you couldn’t dodge the draft after all.”

“He didn’t dodge the first time,” I said.

Jesse looked to Chase for confirmation, the skin around his eyes tightened with regret. He would have known that if he’d stuck around.

“What are you talking about?” Chase asked Jesse.

“The guy in charge—Doctor something,” he began.

“DeWitt,” I corrected quietly.

“Right. DeWitt.” Jesse glanced away. “DeWitt’s sending all able bodies down to join his little security detail.”

I stood on my tiptoes and looked to where a group of our people crowded around the old man with the eye patch. Billy was the first in line. For some reason this worried me. It wasn’t like he’d never done field work before—he’d left the Wayland Inn to find new recruits lots of times—but without Wallace watching over him, this seemed different.

I wasn’t hungry anymore. Chase seemed to have lost his appetite as well, but he crammed down the meat patties and brown bread all the same.

“What do you know about Three?” Jesse asked Chase. He didn’t look for my input, and given the way I’d reacted, I couldn’t blame him.

“Not much.” Chase pooled the crumbs in the center of his hand, then sifted them into his mouth.

“Nothing?” Jesse pressed, in a way that made me wonder what
he
had heard.

“There was a medic when I was in the service.” Chase rubbed his thumb between his brows. “After fights he used to hold up his fingers and tell me three—”