Brooke stood. “No, you’re not.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jon pointed at Hugo. “You heard what he said. They’re going to come back here and burn this whole place to the ground if I don’t.”
“If you go and turn yourself in, then Garrett being shot was for nothing,” Terrence said.
“We don’t have a choice now. Things have changed.”
“We do have a choice,” Brooke said.
“And what’s that?” Jon asked.
“We can fight back,” Hugo said.
Brooke nodded. “Exactly.”
Jon scoffed. “Are you crazy? Look what those bastards came here and did. They’re trained and heavily armed. Even with the guns you have, who’s going to use them?”
“So, we’re supposed to just sit back and let them continue doing this?” Brooke asked. “Tell you to just go and turn yourself in?”
“It’s the only way,” Jon said. “Or else they’re going to come right back here and destroy this place.”
Jon started toward the door, essentially ending the discussion. But Brooke hurried over to him, stepping in between him and the door.
“You can’t do this,” she said softly.
“There’s no other way.”
“Please, just wait. You don’t have to make this decision now. We have an entire day. Let’s get some distance from this thing and sleep on it, and meet again tomorrow and try to figure it out.”
Jon sighed, looking at the wall to his left.
“Terrence is right,” Brooke said. “We can’t let Garrett’s sacrifice be for nothing. He didn’t want to give you up, so you shouldn’t give up. You don’t have to be a martyr.”
Looking back at her, Jon pursed his lips. He didn’t see any other way out of this, but he couldn’t look into her eyes and deny there was some truth in what she was saying. He nodded.
Smiling, Brooke threw her arms around him. He didn’t hug her back, creating an awkward moment. When she pulled away, she was blushing. Brooke moved her hair out of her face and stepped back.
“We’ll meet again in the morning,” Terrence said.
Jon nodded, then turned and walked out the door.
29
Jon lay on the bedroll in his tent, staring up at the top of it. He didn’t know what time it was. He only knew he’d been called to dinner around an hour ago and had declined to go join the others. Food was the furthest thing from his mind, even if it could potentially be one of his last meals. Jon wasn’t even thinking about Brooke or the people of Hope’s Dawn. Not Judah or the Vultures, either.
All he could think of were Carrie and Spencer.
It didn’t matter if he stared at the top of the tent or closed his eyes; he saw their faces. It was like he was at home with them. Spencer, with his green eyes locked onto his portable video game console, laying on the love seat with his feet kicked up and still wearing his pajamas. And Carrie in the kitchen making lunch, wearing her lounge clothes. Specifically, a dark pair of jeans and an orange V-neck 3/4 sleeve shirt that fit her perfectly and showed off her figure, with her purple pendulum necklace resting on her chest. Carrie could get dolled up for a dinner party in heels and a sexy red dress, but to Jon, that didn’t match how hot she looked in jeans and a shirt. He loved coming up behind her in the kitchen and wrapping his arms around her, placing his large hands on her stomach. Sometimes when Spencer was distracted, he’d sneak his hands under her shirt to feel her stomach, occasionally letting his fingertips slip into the waist of her jeans as he gave her neck a kiss. At times, it had been because he wanted to tease her to send her hints, but most of the time, it had only been a tender act of love. Carrie had loved the sexual attention, and she’d deserved as much of it as he could give to her.
Now, he wondered if he would soon be in a place to wrap his arms around her again.
Unable to bear the thoughts of his family anymore, Jon got up and sat in a kitchen chair set up in the corner of the tent. He took deep breaths to try to calm himself as he rocked back and forth, his clammy hands holding his sweating face.
Was there another way out of this? Dying wasn’t the problem. Jon had been prepared for death for months—he would have welcomed it several times over. But things had changed. Could he leave the people of Hope’s Dawn to continue being bullied around by these assholes? And how could he let Judah, the man who had burned his cabin to the ground and violated his most personal possessions, live another day?
The problem was that it seemed, in Jon’s mind, that he had to choose one or the other. Especially given that he didn’t know what the Vultures’ camp looked like, sneaking in and taking out Judah had its own risks. If he failed, the Vultures would for sure march down to Hope’s Dawn and burn it to the ground. And even if he did succeed and take out Judah, would the rest of the group fulfill his promise anyway? At least if Jon turned himself in, the people of Hope’s Dawn would survive. Judah would do all he could to keep them operational, as they were basically slaves to him. But was being a slave truly worth living for?
He raised his head and saw a shadow approaching his tent. The slender figure covered most of the doorway within moments, and Jon saw the familiar boots through the slit.
“Can I come in?” Brooke asked.
Standing, Jon went over and unzipped the tent.
Brooke entered, dressed slightly differently than earlier. She wore the same jeans, but had a dark gray tank top on now, with the strap of her black bra hanging off her right shoulder. Her hair was
