She blew a strand of hair off her face. “I am
We neared the edge of the produce fields and Eve fell silent: enough wolves were working that private conversation was impossible.
The fields were located on the farthest outskirts of the camp and were nothing more than glorified vegetable patches—straggly ones at that. An old water tower rose near the edge of one. Covered with rust and balancing shakily on four spindly legs, it looked like it had been here long before the camp—maybe even before the sanatorium.
Shed fifteen was just past it. Beyond that was the fence.
Large signs warned wolves not to get within eight feet of the wires, and someone had enhanced one of these by adding a stick figure with lightning bolts shooting out of his fingertips and the top of his head.
“Funny,” muttered Eve as she headed for the shed.
She pulled open the door and stepped inside, but I stopped when I was still several feet away. On the other side of the fence was some sort of steel grid. I stared at it, puzzled, but then my stomach lurched as I realized I was looking at the early stages of a reinforced concrete wall.
All of the camps had them. They kept regs from getting near the electrified fences and wolves from talking to anyone on the outside. Some regs left memorials along the walls or spray-painted tributes to infected loved ones inside the camps. There were websites where you could see photos of the graffiti.
This wall was barely under construction—there couldn’t have been more than sixty yards of steel set up and only a few feet of solid concrete in place—but once completed, it would rise forty feet and completely encircle the camp. You wouldn’t be able to see out unless you looked up.
I was suddenly hit by a wave of loneliness that left me feeling like one of those paper snowflakes kids made: all stretched out and full of holes. If I couldn’t find a way to get Kyle and Serena out of here, they would spend the rest of their lives cut off from everyone and everything—including me if I ended up on the outside of the wall.
And if I didn’t end up on the outside—if I stayed in here with them—I would never see Tess or Jason again.
The thought of never hearing another one of Tess’s sugar-fueled rants about men, or never seeing Jason’s green eyes or that look he got on his face when I was driving him crazy, made my chest ache.
I pushed the feeling away. I couldn’t afford to think like that. I couldn’t afford to get bogged down in what-ifs and maybes.
I headed into the shed and deposited my bin. The muscles in my arms spasmed, and my spine twinged as I was able to stand up straight for the first time since leaving the laundry building.
Eve watched me stretch, a strange look on her face that made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t quite define. It looked a little like longing, but more . . . wistful.
When she realized I had caught her in the act of staring, she blushed. “Sorry,” she said with a shrug that seemed uncharacteristically self-conscious. “I was just trying to remember what it was like.”
“It?”
“Those small aches and pains you get when you’re a reg.” Before I could say anything else, she pushed past me and walked out of the shed.
The buzzer signaling the end of the work details sounded as I stepped outside after her. She glanced at me and her face was as blank as an unlined page in a notebook. Whatever had prompted the brief moment of sharing was clearly over.
The wolves from the fields were already heading back toward the main part of camp. We trailed after them slowly, by unspoken agreement giving them enough time to get out of earshot.
“So . . .” I kicked at a stone on the path. “You want my help coming up with a plan in case Hank doesn’t come through.” No need to tell her the odds of that were about 150 percent.
“I think you can find information that might help me come up with a plan in case he can’t help us, yes.” She stopped walking and tilted her head to the side as she gave me a long, considering look. I had the feeling Eve didn’t ask people for help very often.
“You can get past the HFDs and you can watch what happens after one goes off. The pain in my head when they use those things is so bad that a marching band playing death metal could walk past and I’d be oblivious.”
I considered it.
Kyle would hate the idea. He would more than hate it. Just a few hours ago, I had promised him that I would be careful and be safe; agreeing to help Eve spy and plan a breakout was pretty much the opposite of that.
But if it led to a way to get him and Serena out . . .
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But I have a condition.”
Eve raised an eyebrow.
“You want to find a way out. I want to find out what’s happening to Serena.”
Eve nodded. “Fair enough. You help me, then I’ll help you.”
“Serena first. You need me more than I need you.” I held my breath. Until moments ago, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to ask Eve for her help, but I suddenly wanted it. Badly.
She hesitated, then nodded grudgingly. “Fine.”
I exhaled. She was the only other wolf in Thornhill who knew I was a reg, and unlike Kyle, she wouldn’t try to protect me at the expense of getting out of here. And as much as I disliked the loyalty she had for my father, anyone who had been living with Hank—anyone who’d been raised by him for a year and a half—had probably picked up the kind of skills that would come in handy when breaking out of a government facility.
“Do we spit on our palms and shake on it?” I asked.
Eve rolled her eyes and started walking again. “You know,” she said after a minute, “even before the stuff Dex said, this place wasn’t adding up. Did anything seem strange about Sinclair’s overcrowding explanation to you?”
I thought about the raid, about the memory that didn’t quite fit.
“Exactly.” Eve started to say more but her voice trailed off as a guard came into view. Even at a distance, I recognized the lanky figure and red hair of the man who had helped them take Serena, the man the female guard had called “Tanner.”
He left the path and headed for the trees, his stride quick and purposeful. One hand gripped the handle of a black case the size of a toolbox.
“A guard heading into the woods with a big black box,” said Eve. “Because that’s not suspicious.”
“Follow?”
“Follow.”
We shared a glance and a split second of camaraderie, which left me feeling awkward and confused as we trailed the man into the woods. I wasn’t sure I wanted to like anyone crazy enough—or blind enough—to trust my father.
The guard followed a wide path, but Eve and I glided through the underbrush. Well, she glided. I stumbled awkwardly behind, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The trees began to thin around us and I caught glimpses of a chain-link fence through the foliage. What on earth could they possibly need to fence off way out here?
The guard stopped in front of a metal pole. He set the toolbox on the ground, crouched down, and hauled out what looked like an iPhone. He pointed it at the top of the pole, waited, then sighed and tossed the device back into the box.
He stood and slipped a radio from his belt. “Number thirty-five is working fine. Were you guys just messing with me?”
The reply was lost under a burst of static. “Funny,” muttered the guard. “Real funny.” He picked up the toolbox and headed back the way he had come.
We waited until we were sure he was out of visual range and then crept forward. I tugged on the fence. It wasn’t as impressive as the one surrounding the camp and it wasn’t electrified, but it was solid and secure.
