“It doesn’t matter what I know.”
I felt my shoulders bunch defensively. “We’ve got to stay. Sean’s still there—I have to help him get Rebecca—and Billy….”
“They’re big kids.” His voice was strained.
“They’re our
He laughed wryly.
“Just so we’re clear, this rule doesn’t apply to you, right?”
I glared at him.
“That’s what I thought.” He made a frustrated sound in his throat, then mumbled, “I should’ve put you on that truck to the safe house when I had the chance.”
I balked. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I wouldn’t have gone.”
His brow quirked, and his eyes sparkled with challenge.
I shifted my legs to the opposite side of the cot so that we could watch each other’s backs.
“So, is it true?” he said, gaze roaming.
He didn’t have to qualify it. I knew what he meant. My damp hands clasped, unclasped, clasped again.
“Did he hurt you, Em?”
“No,” I said quickly.
Chase’s jaw twitched. He didn’t say anything.
“It was the only way to steal his gun.” My voice was all but a whisper now. It was impossible to explain how logic changed in the face of death, but still I felt ashamed.
After a moment, he touched my arm. It was a gentle move, a move of apology and support and question for what might become of us, and I stared down at his fingers, feeling my heart crack.
“I wish Billy hadn’t messed up my shot,” he said.
I wasn’t so sure I disagreed.
I adjusted the mask and focused on the bag, careful not to showcase Chase’s old MM nightstick and radio against the back. The batteries were dead, but I thought we might have some cash left. It would be good to be able to follow any new developments in the nightly report. My hands wandered over our extra change of clothes, a toiletries kit. A worn copy of the novel
“Keep your head down.”
At Chase’s order I froze. Down the row, in the direction of the cougher, was a soldier—the same one with the clipboard from across the street who’d been talking to the old man. He was shaking the sleepers and checking their faces.
“There’s a hole in the fence we can fit through,” I whispered. I’d seen it when we came in. The soldier reached the family of four and poked the father’s shoulder with his baton.
“Get up,” he said gruffly. “Look at these pictures.”
The man blinked and rubbed his eyes. His wife woke their two children and pulled them behind her.
“Stand up,” Chase breathed. I rose and zipped the bag, pretending to keep myself busy with the contents. He stayed seated but moved to the edge of the cot, ready to follow.
A low beep cut through the coughing. The soldier’s radio.
“Hold it,” said the soldier. For a second I thought he was talking to us and fought the urge to run. I adjusted the paper mask. My knee brushed against Chase’s.
The soldier’s radio hissed, then clicked, then went clear as a woman’s voice came through.
CHAPTER
9
I HELD absolutely still, the breath locked in my chest, as the operator repeated her report.
A fire in the Wayland Inn. Not a breach in Wallace and Chase’s imposed security, not an MM attack on the resistance stronghold, but a fire. Was it as simple as John the landlord failing to put out one of his cigarettes? It seemed entirely too coincidental that there should be a problem now, so near to the arrival of Tucker Morris.
The soldier abandoned the family without a word of explanation and jogged to the main entrance of the compound. As soon as he was out of sight, Chase grabbed our bag and pulled me toward the hole in the fence.
No one bothered looking up as we passed, or as we separated the chain links to sneak through. Halfway through the metal snagged my shirt and made a ripping sound as I jerked free.
The thoughts raced through my mind. Sean was still at the motel. Had he made it out? What about Billy?
It took only a few steps before I realized Chase was leading me in the wrong direction—toward East End Auto and Tubman’s checkpoint.
“Stop!” I dug my heels in. “What are you doing? We have to go back!”
“We can’t go back.” His expression was grim. When I whipped my hand out of his grasp, he blocked my way, steeling himself for a fight. His hands were down and loose, as if ready to yard me should I bolt.
“They’re sending every unit that direction.” He gaze darted behind me, sharp and focused, before returning to my face. “Who do you think they’re hoping to find?”
The sniper. They were looking for the same five people as the soldier who’d just been combing through the Red Cross Camp. They were looking for me.
“They won’t find us,” I said, ignoring the dread sticking to my insides. “But they might find Sean and Billy and Wallace, even stupid Riggins if we don’t help.”
He flinched.
“Tucker did this,” I said. “You know he did. We’re the only ones who know him. We’re the only ones who can stop him.”
I placed my palm on his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath his threadbare sweater. Slowly, his fingers closed around my wrist, his thumb gently sliding over the sensitive skin covering my veins, before pushing it away.
“We stay together.”
I nodded.
We kept to the shadows when we could, avoiding the beggars and working girls in the alleyways. The warm day was humid enough from the week’s rain, and the sweat coated my skin and ran freely down my chest and back. We ran until we came to Church Avenue, a street still in use by the public, though not heavily trafficked.
An MM cruiser drove by with its lights on and siren blaring. My heart skipped a beat. I looked down and felt my hands grow clammy.
“Not for us,” Chase said.
We followed the smoke toward the Wayland Inn. People who had wandered from various areas of town had gathered on the surface streets surrounding the structure. Transients and drug dealers, unemployed scavengers, and even some curious workers from the west side of the city. They kept coming. With so little to occupy their days, a burning motel was prime entertainment.
Chase led the way through the crowd. As we came around the side of an old boarded-up Chinese restaurant we saw the flames, rising a hundred feet in the air, just below the line of windows on the tenth floor.
Instantly I became aware of the smell—sharp and suffocating. It made my eyes burn, even from my place across the street. A blast of sirens came from the two fire trucks parked in a V in front of the motel’s entry. The
