Breaking Point

I spun around just as Chase came in behind me.

We were bright red and streaked with soot—awfully suspicious to those who waited down on the street.

“Clean off,” I said. We flipped our clothing inside out. I wiped my face on my forearms, but it just seemed to smear the black.

“That’s it, move out,” commanded Chase. Sean was sturdier on his feet now, but not by much.

Chase knew the way from having searched this building a few days ago. We followed him to the dark stairway and began our descent. My muscles gripped with every step, and my throat burned with thirst. I longed to rinse the fire from my eyes, but there was no time.

I watched Billy, worried he might try to bolt. My burned hands knotted in his charred shirtsleeve, but he shook me off and pushed forward to the front.

Finally, we reached the exit.

With my heart jammed up my windpipe, I stepped out onto the narrow, one-way street, desolate with all the action occurring next door. Over my shoulder the civilians were rioting, still attacking the soldiers with their fists and their curses. They’d succeeded in breaking the front lines, as so many soldiers were now dedicated to shooting upward through the smoke toward the roof. It was impossible to tell in all the chaos if our people had hit anyone.

My mind turned to Riggins and his last words, urging me to go. The sniper. I should have seen it earlier. The pieces fell into place now that I’d had a moment to breathe, and with them came a prickling dread. He’d changed around me, maybe sacrificed himself for me, because he—like the woman in Tent City—thought I was someone I wasn’t.

I glanced back for Chase, and instead saw Tucker. My thoughts shifted. Hardened. I remembered why I hated him, why I could never trust him. But somehow something had changed between us. He’d waited for Sean. He’d pushed me over the burning stairs and possibly saved my life.

Screams stole my focus. The roof of the Wayland Inn was collapsing. The fire had taken over, clawing angrily at the blackened sky.

“Wallace!” Billy shouted.

Chase hauled him to the opposite side of the road, where we could no longer see our fallen headquarters. When we were out of sight from the Wayland Inn, we ran.

“The Red Cross Camp,” I heard Sean say to Chase as we caught our breath in an alley.

“Aren’t there any more of you?” Tucker asked through labored breaths. “Another base or something?”

“The garage,” I said. East End Auto. I didn’t like Tucker asking that question, and I didn’t like leading him to where the carrier met refugees, but we were out of options. “Cara’s waiting there.”

I hoped she was still waiting there. I didn’t know how much time had passed. More than an hour, at least.

We took side streets, staying away from the Red Cross Camp and the Square. With all patrol cars pulled into the fire, the back roads were clear. The breath seared my sore lungs, but there was no time to rest.

Finally we reached the garage, and without delay, Chase pounded the code—SOS—into the flimsy metal.

Sweat streamed into my eyes. One minute passed. Then another.

She was gone. We’d waited too long.

Frustration consumed me. I was just about to kick the door when the bolt inside released, and the metal rose to hip height. Cara and I came face-to-face as I swooped under the threshold.

Her face lifted in surprise when she registered the group.

“You’re all that’s left?” she said, glancing between us. Her eyes hardened when no one responded.

“Tell me you have keys to that truck.” Chase pointed to the yellow Horizons distribution vehicle. The garage didn’t smell damp as it had during the storm. Now it was dry, and cold, like the inside of a tomb.

Cara lifted a key ring from the pocket of her Sisters of Salvation skirt and held them up for us to see. I nearly cried with relief.

“When’s Tubman get back?” Sean’s voice was a tempered groan.

“We need to get to the safe house,” Chase explained. “All units have pulled into the city to look for resistance. The roads should be clear, at least until we pass city limits.”

“I don’t know when Tubman’s getting back,” she said, her voice smaller than I’d expected.

“Weren’t you with him?” I nearly shouted.

“We got separated,” she said smartly. I wanted to shake her. She turned back to the others. “I know a place, though. A checkpoint in Greeneville. We can hide there if we can get out of the city.”

“And past the highway patrol.” Tucker siphoned in an impatient breath. I watched his face change from speculation to acceptance, and wondered what his angle was.

Cara rolled on. “Tubman makes a stop there. We meet up with him, we get our ride to the safe house.”

The blood was still pumping through me. It was as good a plan as we were going to get.

“Find me a delivery uniform,” Sean said. “I’ll drive. Cara can sit up front and give me directions. We’ll tell them we’re going to a soup kitchen.” I winced as he pulled the remnants of his T-shirt over his head. He blinked for several seconds, placing a hand on the bumper for support as Cara disappeared down the stairs.

Chase jerked the back of the truck open; it clacked against its rickety metal runners.

“I’ll drive,” he said. “You can barely sit up.”

“No.” Billy was shaking his head. “We can’t leave Wallace here. We can’t. He’ll come, just wait a minute.” His track was stuck on repeat.

Chase tried to force him into the compartment, but Billy lashed out and shoved him back hard. The move was so forecasted, I was sure even I could have evaded it, but Chase didn’t. Maybe he wanted Billy to hit him, I don’t know.

Then Billy crumbled, tears carving bright tracks down the filth on his cheeks. I crouched by his side and held him tightly against me. “Come on, Billy. If he’s made it, he can’t wait for us here. We’re going together, okay? You and me. Come on.” Telling Billy this made me feel stronger somehow.

Finally, he lifted his head, and without another word climbed into the truck. His eyes stayed pinned on the garage door, as though Wallace might appear at any second.

When I turned back around, Chase and Tucker had squared off, staring at each other, an unspoken, lethal hatred balancing on the edge of control. The red on Tucker’s face had faded everywhere but the side of his jaw where Chase had punched him.

I’d been caught up in the momentum of our flight, but reality finally tackled me. Tucker was with us now. Without thinking, we’d even arranged his transportation out of the city.

I stepped beside Chase, and when Tucker glanced down at me, he faltered, as though I was somehow betraying him.

“Did you start the fire?” I heard myself ask.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he thought his obvious resentment was enough.

“He was with me all morning,” Sean wheezed.

“We’ve got to move!” Cara slapped the side of the truck.

For one beat no one said a word, and in that silence Tucker turned and began walking toward the exit. There was no gun in his waistband.

“Morris, wait,” called Sean. He shook his head at Chase. “Come on, man. I don’t know what he did to you two, but it’s over. It’s not like you haven’t screwed up before.”

Chase grunted. Tucker stopped.

Since Sean had heard my side of what had happened with Rebecca, he hadn’t once made me feel guilty, but I felt it now. It stabbed into my gut as I remembered exactly what the soldier’s baton had sounded like falling over her small body. Still, I speculated that Sean would not be so forgiving if confronted with his mother’s killer.

My heart beat out every second. Time was wasting.

“Promise you won’t hurt anyone while you’re with us,” I said.

It went against everything that felt right in my body, like swimming straight into a current. But Cara was right, we had to go. And as much as I hated it, Sean was right, too—we’d all done things, myself included, for which we could be judged.

“Ember,” Chase said under his breath.