“Gonna tranq that dog if you can’t keep him calm.”
“Bear,” I said, pulling out of the man’s grip and kneeling beside him. “Take it easy, pal. It’s fine. We’ll get this worked out and then we’ll be on our way. Okay?”
Bear whimpered and pushed his muzzle into my cheek.
“I’ve got a kennel back at the station for our dogs,” Nat’s father said, his voice softening somewhat. “We can keep him there until we get you sorted out. He’ll be fed and watered, just like you.”
A police van pulled up behind us, and another deputy hopped out. He threw open the back door and waited. Bear whined and I leaned into his ear.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered. “I swear. Now go.”
Bear didn’t resist when the deputy led him into the van. Once they were away, Nat’s father opened his door and pushed me into the back. He slammed the door and started the engine.
I looked out the window and saw that Nat and her friends had gathered on the sidewalk. Nat watched, arms crossed angrily over her chest as her father took me away.
16
Nat’s father and I wound through the streets of Waylon on the way to the police station. I was in the back, leaning painfully against my side to keep from crushing my bound arms.
Most every house we passed was dark, with windows and doors boarded up. The cruiser’s headlights caught scarred and crumbling buildings and lots full of ashes. In places, it looked like entire neighborhoods had been flattened.
“Admiring your people’s handiwork?”
“They’re not my people,” I said. “Let me talk to the Feds and I’ll explain.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I’m pretty sure some intelligence folks will be very eager for a chat.”
He pulled the car around a low brick building and parked next to the van that had taken Bear away. Once he hauled me out, we made our way through three locked doors and into the jail. There, cops milled about amid a near-constant screech of radio traffic. Fluorescent lights pounded down on white tile. My eyes ached from the glare. How did these people stand it?
Nat’s father led me to a cell and popped off my cuffs before shoving me inside. The steel door slammed shut.
“This is how it’s going to be,” he said. “You’re Army property now, not ours, so don’t expect to see a lawyer or a judge. My guess is they’ll come pick you up sometime tomorrow for questioning.” He leaned against the cell, crossing his arms. “ ’Course, since they don’t really share any of that intelligence with us, if you have something worthwhile to say right here and now, I’m sure we could work something out.”
“I don’t know anything,” I said. “I was taken by the Path six years ago and I’m trying to get home. That’s all.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “Someone will bring you supper.”
He unlocked the outer door and started to open it.
“She was amazing.”
Nat’s father stopped at the doorway.
“The Path didn’t stand a chance against her,” I said. “You should be proud.”
Nat’s father turned his head slightly toward me, said nothing, then walked out the door. It closed with a boom, and I was alone.
I lay on the bunk staring at the bars. The adrenaline charge that had kept me going for hours was gone and I felt weak and empty. I told myself that the Feds would listen, that once I explained the last six years, they’d help get us back home. They had to.
I closed my eyes and slipped a hand into my pocket. Bear’s collar sat at the bottom, twisted into a ball. I drew it into my fist and held on tight.
A few hours later, there was a buzz and the door that led back to the cells opened, silhouetting two guards and a prisoner.
“Sorry about this, kid,” one of the guards said.
“No problem.”
Nat stepped inside the cell next to mine and flopped down on the cot. I looked at her through the bars, stunned.
Nat shrugged. “I took one step out of the house.”
“Your dad threw you in jail?”
“He’s trying to make a point,” she said. “He’ll let me out tomorrow when he remembers that the Feds haven’t sent us any medical aid in three months.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “The Feds can’t send medicine? They can’t help?”
“Ha! Help the white trash of Waylon, Wyoming? Please, they have to save their pennies in case some trillionaire’s son gets the sniffles. You want some advice now that you’re back home in the Fed? Get rich. Fast. ’Cause, I tell you, if you’re far enough from the front and have a little money, this whole war is something you see on TV.”
I could barely process the idea. In the Path, citizens gave the war effort everything they had, and in return they were given everything they needed. I had no love for Nathan Hill, but he’d never abandon his own people like that.
“Oh, hey. I swiped this for you.”
Nat handed me something through the bars and I raised it into the light. Black paper and silver foil. I tore it open and the smell of chocolate hit me like a wave. I nearly laughed out loud.
“I haven’t had one of these in six years.”
“Seriously? Well, it’s no steak dinner but think of it as a thanks, I guess.”
I traced my fingers over the logo pressed into the chocolate and then over the bumps on the other side. Almonds. My favorite. I snapped the bar in two and handed half to Nat.
“Thanks,” she said, and bit off a corner.
I chewed slow, drawing the chocolate over my tongue, savoring it until it dissolved. I suddenly remembered the smell of fallen leaves and chimney smoke.
“After my brother and I went trick-or-treating, we’d trade candy and I made it my goal to get every one of these he had.”
“Did it work?”
I laughed. “He was easy,” I said. “He loved Nerds. You know? The fruit things?”
“Right.”
“So I pretended that I did too — in fact, I loved them so much he was going to have to trade me two or three chocolate bars to get just one box. Worked every time. Sucker.”
“I always looked for those caramel things. The ones on a stick?”
“A Sugar Daddy.”
“Right,” Nat said. “A Sugar Daddy. Every cavity I ever had as a kid can be directly traced back to a Sugar Daddy. So where’s your brother now? Still at home?”
I felt a twinge and forced an image of James out of my head. “Still at Cormorant.”
“Why?”
“He’s Path now.”
There was a distant buzz as another cell block opened somewhere in the building. Nat turned on her side and drew herself up to the bars.
“I didn’t just happen to get thrown in jail,” she said. “I stepped outside for a reason. Two reasons actually. First, Carlos knows a guy who can get us fake IDs that say we’re eighteen. We’re going to get them, then head to a recruiting station in Casper to enlist.”
“Why are you telling me—”
