Breaking Point

consciously, and tried to stand a little straighter. When Lincoln whistled at me, Chase bit his knuckles and looked away.

“Congratulations, Ms. Miller,” said Wallace. “If I hadn’t already assigned latrine duty to Billy for the rest of his life, the job would now be yours.”

I chewed my cheek, but didn’t feel like apologizing. Lincoln pointed at Billy and laughed.

“We have ourselves a unique opportunity,” Wallace started. “Ms. Miller has magically reappeared on the mainframe. Now, we can let this opportunity pass us by, or we can do something about it.”

I had a bad feeling about that word: opportunity.

“I want to send Ember out into the city,” Wallace said.

CHAPTER 4

“WHAT?” Chase jumped from his seat, the muscles in his neck twitching. In contrast, I went absolutely still.

“It’s not an order, it’s a recommendation,” Wallace continued calmly. “But before answering, know that this may be the biggest chance we’ve had to prove to those blue bastards that there are people brave enough to stand against them.”

“They’ll know who she is,” said Chase. His hands had formed into fists. “Her photo’s already being posted.”

“Exactly,” said Wallace. “What better ID than the FBR’s own mug shot?”

It took a moment for me to realize that the point was for me to be recognized, to show that I’d escaped, and lived, and was fighting back, unafraid. It seemed so contrary to everything Chase had taught me while on the run.

Out of the chaos in my head, I pictured my mother, standing up to that man at the soup kitchen.

“What would this entail?” I heard myself say.

Chase turned to stare incredulously at me.

A smirk lifted Wallace’s unshaven face. “Nothing unusual. Same mission I would have sent Riggins and Banks on tomorrow. We’ve got a package in Tent City that needs to be delivered to the checkpoint. No fancy speeches, no dramatic unveiling. Just let a couple of people see you.”

“What’s the package’s name?” I asked. “It’s a person, right?”

The room grew stiff with discomfort as eyes darted and people shifted. Putting a name on the package made him real. Made him live and breathe, and die, if we weren’t careful. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know after all.

Wallace hesitated, caught off guard. “She didn’t say. All we know is that the carrier needs to get her over the lines to the Red Zone ASAP.”

There were many Red Zones declared after the War, but the Eastern Seaboard was the first and by far the largest evacuated space in the country.

“Soldiers after her?” Riggins asked.

“Probably,” said Wallace. “You’d know a thing or two about that, right, Miller?”

I swallowed.

“No,” said Chase adamantly. “There’s a code one in effect. Anyone can turn her in for a food pass. And once a soldier sees her…”

“You never seem so worried when Wallace sends me out,” said Riggins.

Chase ignored him.

“There’s always a code one in effect for people like us,” said Wallace. “Besides, I’d wrap her up with everyone we can spare. Banks has to tail that recruit in the Square, so he’d be with her. Houston and Lincoln can go, too. Riggins will follow.”

As if leaving the Wayland Inn wasn’t dangerous enough, Riggins, the one person I was sure hated me, would be assigned to keep me safe. Great.

“I don’t do Tent City,” said Sean. He was watching me warily through the corner of his eye.

“And I don’t wash windows,” said Wallace. “Tomorrow you will.”

Chase leaned toward Wallace, but spoke loudly enough that we could all hear.

“Don’t do this.”

Wallace scraped a hand over his scruffy jaw. “You’d rather hide your whole life? Waste away here?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Chase countered. “Why don’t you ever leave, Wallace? Is your life so much more valuable than hers?”

An electric silence filled the room. My cheeks burned, as though Chase’s outburst had been my own. No one challenged Wallace like that, even if the point he made was true.

“That’s bordering on insubordination,” said Riggins.

“You’re damn right it is.” Wallace stepped up to Chase, shorter, narrower, but unafraid. “Someone’s got to stay behind, Jennings. That’s the way this works. You think you’re man enough for the job, by all means, sit back here and wait. See how easy it is.”

“I’m in.” I didn’t realize I’d said it until Sean whipped his head toward me.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked under his breath. “A new haircut doesn’t make you bulletproof, Ember.”

“When do we leave?” I was beginning to tremble in anticipation. I wanted to go as soon as possible so I couldn’t change my mind. Riggins clapped, looking genuinely impressed. Chase’s gaze was boring a hole through me, but I couldn’t look in his direction.

Wallace’s thin lips stretched into a smile. “When curfew lifts.”

“Sounds like fun,” said a female voice from the doorway. “Where do I sign up?”

I spun toward the sound. Cara.

She looked only slightly worse for wear—her clothes were marked with dirt like the others’ had been, and her hair was stiff from dried sweat. Though she barely acknowledged me, I was relieved to know she was alive.

“What happened?” Lincoln launched himself across the room and lifted her into an embrace. She laughed and patted his back.

“Just laid low for a while,” she said. “I lost you two, and then the sniper hit the draft setup, so I locked down and waited it out.”

“Clever girl,” said Wallace. Discussion of tomorrow’s mission was over for now. Before I left the room I looked once more at Chase, now staring out the window alone. I thought he’d try to stop me; I wanted him to try to stop me. But he didn’t.

It probably wouldn’t have changed my decision anyway.

* * *

“EMBER? Ember!”

I raced toward my mother’s voice, near the front of the house. I’d followed the two soldiers to her bedroom, where they had opened her dresser drawers and were rifling through her clothes.

“Mom!” We collided; my arms locked around her waist, and I buried my tears in her blouse. She shifted me to the side as the soldiers came into view.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Routine inspection, ma’am,” said the first soldier. His navy uniform still had the press lines across the shoulders, like he’d just pulled it out of a package.

“How dare you come into my house when my daughter is home alone!”

He passed a nervous look to his partner, who stepped forward. There was something familiar about him, something I couldn’t place. “According to the Reformation Act we don’t need your permission, ma’am. Besides, if you need child care, the Church of America provides services, free of cost.”

I detached from her side, arms bolting down. I was eleven, I didn’t need a babysitter.