I JOLTED back, slamming into someone behind me, then was shoved back into the Sister who’d dragged me out here. Her broad cheeks had turned a dark shade of pink.
“Oh no,” she was repeating. “Oh no oh no oh no.”
I heard the shot this time, a loud crack that resounded through the air and ricocheted off the buildings. The soldier that I’d nearly run into was nowhere to be seen.
Code seven, Chase had said when the sniper had struck before. A civilian attack on a soldier. During a code seven all FBR units had been permitted to return fire.
“Get down!” I shouted, remembering what Houston and Lincoln had said about the civilians being forced to lay on the bricks. If they rioted now, the MM would kill them.
Two men near me ducked, only to be trampled by the crowd. A crack of bone, a blunted cry. Horror turned my stomach. The Sisters bolted, scurrying away like mice. I kept low, scanning furiously for Chase, searching for his hard features, his copper skin, his serious eyes, but every face was a blur.
Another shot, this time followed by a chorus of shrieks. Ahead, near what had been the front of the lines, came a loud clang, and through a sudden window between bodies I saw that the giant black cauldron of oatmeal had been knocked to the ground. Half a dozen men and women fell to their knees, scooping the dirty mush into their mouths and their cupped shirts.
Someone called for a Sister—for me—but I was already taken by the stampede, and had to hold onto the back of a woman’s jacket just to stay upright. We were going backward, toward the entrance to the Square. The bricks had become slick with the light rain, and I slipped. A hand gripped my forearm, wrenching me sideways, where I banged into someone and nearly fell again.
The navy jacket nearly burst the panic swelling inside of me, but when Chase turned around, I almost sobbed with relief. He blocked the others with his body, holding me tight against his chest as he carved a path toward the alley where we were supposed to meet the others. I could feel each time someone rammed into him, see the flash of his teeth as he grunted against the pain.
Minutes passed before the way cleared. I looked up to see more soldiers racing past us toward the Square. Chase pushed me back like he meant to go after them, but at the last minute dragged me behind the Dumpster. Another clatter of footsteps had us flattening against the rusted metal.
“What part of stay together didn’t you understand?” His tone may have been sharp enough to wound, but it was fear that came off of him in waves, not anger, and that was worse. It made everything seem even more dangerous. Less than thirty minutes had passed since the Sister had caught us here, but it felt like a lot longer now. “Never mind,” he muttered. “You all right?”
I nodded. His lip was bleeding, and I removed the handkerchief from around my neck and dabbed it with a trembling hand. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
“What happened?”
“Another sniper hit,” he said. “I think. I saw a soldier go down.”
The sniper was still here. Never before had he stayed in the same place after an attack. I couldn’t contemplate what this meant, all I knew was that Chase was in a uniform—a target for this attack—but just as much in danger from the real soldiers without it.
We needed to get out of here fast.
I cringed when more shots came from the Square. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. All in quick succession. More screaming followed, sharp and bright with terror. Chase grabbed my hand, still holding the handkerchief, and pulled me down to a crouch.
We waited, listening to the tapping of the rain against the Dumpster, and the shouts from the Square. After a little while the chaos stopped, and a man’s voice crackled over a bullhorn.
“Face down on the bricks,” he ordered. “Move and you’ll be shot.”
I shuddered to think how many had already been shot. Had any of our people been among them? Had Sean?
An eerie silence came over us, punctuated by the sound of a baby’s fearful cries. At the sound of footsteps Chase stood, and motioned for me to be silent. He leaned out from behind our shelter, then gave a short whistle. A moment later Sean appeared. His chestnut hair was disheveled, and his uniform jacket had been ripped at the shoulder. The top two buttons were missing.
I jumped up and wrapped him in a hard hug, then pushed him back into the wall.
“What took you so long?” I said.
He choked out something indecipherable and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Square, as if this were the stupidest question he’d ever heard.
He turned to Chase. “Is your radio working?”
Chase had left it turned off in his belt for fear anyone might hear it and find us, but now he flipped it on and lifted it to his ear, keeping the volume low. Nothing but static—on every channel. The MM wasn’t broadcasting what had happened in the Square, which meant we couldn’t connect to one another, or to Wallace back at the Wayland Inn, either. There went our chance for backup.
The patter of footsteps outside had him quickly switching it back off. We froze, waiting for whoever it was to pass, but the footsteps came closer. Chase reached slowly for his gun and nodded to Sean.
“There room for one more at this party?”
Cara appeared between the Dumpster and the wall, her once long locks cut to chin-length and redyed black, like mine. Exactly like mine, I realized. Another layer of protection so that people might even mistake us for each other. Her Sister ensemble fit more snugly across the hips and the chest to accommodate for her curves, but apart from that we were practically twins.
My blood was still thrumming as Chase’s hand dropped from his holster.
“You could have just said no,” she said, feigning annoyance.
“Get down here!” Sean motioned for her to come closer, which she did with a smile that made me wary.
“Oh,” she whispered. “It’s a secret party. You should have said so.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “What happened to Houston and Lincoln?”
“We got separated,” she said, the seriousness finally catching up to her. “What happened to you two? I saw you get ambushed by the Sisters.”
So she had been watching us. I glanced at Chase. “We got separated.”
“Radios are out,” Chase interrupted.
“It’s the storm,” said Cara. “There were severe weather reports on the back channels earlier.”
“We’ll hold until this clears up,” said Chase, nodding toward the Square. “Then move out at nightfall.”
The disappointment weighed down on me; I did want to go back, but we hadn’t accomplished anything yet. No one had recognized us. We hadn’t even picked up the package.
Cara shook her head. “My guess is we’ve got fifteen, twenty minutes before those soldiers back there start combing every block in a ten-mile radius looking for the shooter. We need to move.”
“She’s right,” said Sean. He didn’t look happy about it. “With the radios out they can’t call for backup. This is the best chance we have to get out.”
I took a deep breath. Chase’s expression turned hard and unreadable. He finally nodded.
“We’ll go through Tent City,” said Cara. “Might as well pick up our package since we’re here.”
“Forget the package,” said Chase.
“No,” I said, ignoring his scowl. “We’re here. We came here for a reason. Like Cara said, soldiers are going to be coming this way soon.” This person, whoever it was, needed our help now.
I stood.
“Well, boys,” Cara said. “Safeties off. And remember, we’re all wearing blue today, so watch where you’re shooting.”
AS soon as we left the shelter of our enclosure, the evidence of just how severe the weather would be became apparent. The air smelled electric, and the wind and rain were gusting. They drowned out the sounds from behind us, in the Square, where the civilians were still being searched for weapons.
Just past the donation bus, the alleyway revealed a bottleneck of makeshift shelters, corked at the closest end by a table where, Sean informed us, two armed soldiers usually sat. For now, the way was clear, and we moved fast, heads down, looking back as often as we could spare a glance.
As we passed through the barrier, the air whooshed out of my lungs. It seemed a great accomplishment that we were still alive.
Tent City was meant to be a temporary housing settlement, set up during the War when people had evacuated from the major cities on the Eastern Seaboard. In the beginning, the Red Cross had provided supplies, but over time, as it became obvious that the occupants had nowhere else to go, they began building shelter with whatever they could find. Tent City became as much a fixture in the city as the Wayland Inn. I could see that now, as the street opened up into what Cara termed blocks. The stalls contained within each were no more than six feet wide, and made of anything people could get their hands on. Car doors. Trash can lids. Piled stones. Cracked windowpanes and scavenged pieces of plexiglass. All latched together by spare twine or even leather belts.
People peeked out of their flimsy thresholds, having no doubt heard the ruckus from the Square. They regarded us with suspicious glares, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I hadn’t considered that we wouldn’t be well received—we were here to help—but now of course it made sense. We looked like government employees; clearly they wouldn’t trust us. We rushed down the main drag, feet shuffling through the cyclones of trash that swirled around our ankles. The guys took the lead, weapons in hand, directed by Cara’s subtle instructions. We were given a wide berth. Even though the entire Tent City could easily overwhelm two soldiers, they were afraid. Should the MM have reason, this whole colony could be gunned down in an hour, tops.
It worried me that given the sniper attack, it still might be.
I looked up, scanning the rooftops on either side of the road for movement.
Four blocks down, a boy, no more than ten, with a dirty face and a greasy mess of strawberry hair popped out in front of my path, and I jumped back in surprise. One bony shoulder stuck out from his collar, and his hands were gripped before him like he was pointing a gun, aimed directly at Chase. Chase blocked me automatically, and Sean slid in at my side.
“David!” a woman hissed, ushering him away. “Sorry to bother you, sir,” she added desperately over her shoulder.
“Move along,” said Chase. I knew he had to play the role, but my teeth still ground together at the lack of compassion in his tone.
“No place like home,” Sean muttered.
“You lived here?” I said, keeping my gaze ever moving.
“St. Louis.”
When Sean had told Wallace he didn’t want to go to Tent City, I’d thought it was because the place made him nervous. I should have guessed his reasons were not so simple.
“It gets old, you know,” he confessed, and when I glanced over I saw that his cheeks had grown ruddy. “Freezing and being hungry all the time. Lots of guys joined when the recruiter came through. I wasn’t the only one.” He kicked a can across the walkway.
There was more to this story, more hidden behind his creased brows, but now wasn’t the time to ask. My hair was now dripping from the rain, and I swiped it out of my face.
“How much farther?” I heard Chase ask.
Even Cara had started to jog. The urgency hummed through us. It wouldn’t be long before the soldiers infiltrated this place.
We turned right. Three blocks down we reached a slightly larger shack, made of loosely bound, serrated sheets of yellow plastic and broken wooden pallets. It was bigger than its neighbors, about eight feet by eight feet.
Sean pulled aside the door flap and ducked within. When he unfolded from the shelter a few seconds later, his expression was far graver than before. He nodded once.
Silently, Cara and I moved inside, eyes watering from the smoke that emanated from a small fire in the corner. The plastic wall behind it was the density of molding Swiss cheese, blackened by smudges from where the flames had burned through. An old woman in rags with frizzy silver hair squatted beside the fire, roasting what looked like a charred rat on a skewer. I swallowed hard.
“Don’t know nothin’ about what’s going on out there,” she said gruffly, setting the rat directly on the dirty asphalt ground. She clutched her lower back as she rose, then shuffled back a step. “Oh, it’s you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. She didn’t recognize me, she recognized Cara. I nearly opened my mouth to tell her my name, but with a new possible sniper attack, that seemed like a bad idea.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Cara said. “Soldiers are coming. Better drop anything that’s going to get you locked up.”
The woman’s leathery face drew tight. “That’d be you, Sarah girl.”
She stepped over the rat to the opposite corner, where I’d previously only seen a stack of dirty laundry. Now it was a clear there was a person beneath it.
“Up you go. Get up now.” She swatted the girl’s bare leg, which emerged from beneath the covers. “Soldiers had a field day with this one,” she said quietly to us.
Sarah groaned.
“I know, dear,” answered the woman, sympathy cutting through her rough exterior. I bent to help her hoist the body from the floor. When I came close to Sarah’s face I gasped and nearly dropped her.
One cheek and brown eye remained perfectly intact— I could see the way her full lips could easily be dazzling—but her other cheek was black and yellow and swollen an inch off the bone. Just below her jaw line was a fist-wide arc of stitches, and her left eye was completely swollen shut. Even her brow was distorted by bruising and a missing hunk of skin. I was glad I was standing on the side that was wounded. I wouldn’t have wanted her to see my reaction.
Sarah was pregnant. The FBR had beaten a pregnant girl half to death.
“There we go,” the woman said when Sarah stood. I kept a steadying hand beneath her elbow and glanced down, shocked by her outfit: a low-cut, cream-colored dress that blossomed around her hips and the swollen bump below her ribs. Blood stained the front of her chest and left russet streaks down to the seam. Her shoes looked like dancing slippers.
Cara seemed to notice the absurdity of her appearance as well and scowled.
“Great,” she breathed. “Can you run?”
The girl nodded timidly. There was something about her demeanor that seemed entirely too innocent for the violence surrounding her. How old was she? Sixteen? That would have put her a year under me.
The wind rattled the roof, lifting it completely off its base for a few seconds of howling, then the rain began to pelt the metal, making my ears ring.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Cara told her. “We’re going to bring you to someone who’ll take you somewhere safe. You’re going to keep your mouth sealed tight until you get there. All the way until you get there.”
“Yeth, ma’am.” Sarah dug her heel into the ground, and a new wave of pity rose within me. “William didn’ mean to do it, you know,” she said. “He loved me. He picked me. At the thocials.”
“That’s enough,” snapped Cara. She stuck her head outside and motioned for Sean.
“The socials?” I asked, confused.
“FBR pays top dollar for primo entertainment,” said the woman under her breath. “I’ll bet Officer William didn’t think she’d get knocked up.”
All new FBR recruits signed a contract dedicating themselves to Reformation when they entered the service. They weren’t allowed to date. I knew this intimately; it was one of the violations they’d used to try to break Chase during our year apart. But I hadn’t thought that they’d find other ways to keep their soldiers happy.
I forced myself not to wonder if Chase had gone to socials; we had bigger things to worry about. But the thought of him lonely, needing someone to talk to, crawled under my skin. It was then that I realized the woman was staring at me.
I was grateful when Sean entered the compartment. He winced when he saw Sarah’s face.
The woman kneeled in the corner, poking around a junk pile near the clothes. When she stood, she was holding something small and silver in her hand, something I mistook as the contraband Cara had warned her to dump until she placed it between her thumb and forefinger and held it up to the firelight.
A thin chain hung from a medallion of some sort. On it, an angel wielded a knife overhead. If I squinted I could make out something beneath it, too: a demon with horns and wings. It didn’t look like something that came out of the Church of America, and since I hadn’t been raised with a religion prior to the War, I didn’t know what the token was supposed to mean.
“I know who you are,” the woman said with a tight smile. “And I’m glad. I’m glad it’s you. It’s good to see a woman fighting back.”
I froze. I knew I should say something confirming, that the time had come, but I couldn’t. My mouth had gone bone dry. Sean glanced between us, unsure, as I was, of what to say given the new circumstances.
“There’s rumors you’re hunting the soldiers that gave you that Article Five, is that true?” she asked. Sarah flinched beside her.
Whatever relief I’d felt faded.
“I… I didn’t shoot anyone.” Even if I should have. My jaw snapped shut as Cara’s fist closed around my forearm. I could feel her fingernails digging into my flesh.
“Right. Of course.” A wicked gleam lit the woman’s eye. Though part of me wanted to make her understand I was innocent, the rest of me saw the bigger picture. This was why Wallace had sent me out: to stir things up. Few things got as much attention as claiming you were the sniper.
I shoved the necklace she’d given me into my skirt pocket and mumbled, “Thank you.”
“You’re in my prayers,” she said. “But be careful. Not everyone will feel the same. The world’s gone hard these past years.”
I thought of the boy who had pretended to shoot Chase outside. When I was little we played cops and robbers. Now they played snipers and soldiers. Everything was changing.
Chase stuck his head through the door. “We’ve got to move.”
Sean took Sarah’s wrists gently and fastened them together with a neon green zip tie—a necessary protocol to deflect any suspicion. As far as everyone outside was concerned, we were here to make an arrest. Still, my wrists tingled, remembering the discomfort of restraints, and Sean scowled as he grasped her bare upper arm. I knew he was thinking, as I was, of what had happened these past weeks to Rebecca.
“Let’s go,” I said as soon as he was done.
We exited the shelter, Cara and I walking on either side of our prisoner. Sarah hung her head and refused to glance up at the murmuring crowd. I didn’t look up either, though I was now more concerned about the sniper than everyone else.
The wind was whipping now, and a plastic sheet that had served as someone’s roof came slicing through the air. I hopped nimbly out of the way, but not before Chase had reached out to steady me.
“We’ve got to hurry!” I shouted. The sky was growing black. A strong enough storm could level this place, and then there’d be nowhere to hide from the MM. I wished I could unfasten Sarah’s restraints, or at least shelter her beaten face from the weather, but I couldn’t, not while other people were watching. A new thrash of wind knocked us both back a step.
We pushed on toward the back exit of Tent City, away from the Square. Behind us came the crackling of the bullhorn; the soldiers were sending a team to search the alley. It was too much to hope that the guards at the back gate had been called to the disturbance; as soon as the way cleared we saw the flashing blue lights. The exit, a chain-link fence broken in the middle by two vertical poles, was blocked by an FBR cruiser.
Two soldiers sat in the front seats.
“Keep moving!” Cara shouted. I hadn’t realized I’d frozen.
The rain had thickened into sheets, and people were retreating to their shelters or cramming up beside the solid walls of the neighboring buildings to avoid the worst of it. By the time we reached the fence, it had already begun to hail. The pellets made a tinny crackling sound as they bounced off the cruiser’s roof, like a popcorn machine full of bullets. Just above the back tire was that dreaded insignia. The flag and the cross, and the mocking cursive message: One Whole Country, One Whole Family.
The tinted window rolled down, and a uniformed soldier with a dark complexion waved us over.
“Pick this one up in the Square?” he asked, and grimaced as the moisture that had gathered on top of the car doused his shoulder. He jutted a dimpled chin toward Sarah.
I swallowed, but my heart had lodged in my throat and would not go down. The Sisters were one thing; a secondary threat at best. They couldn’t harm us themselves. But soldiers were an entirely different matter. I raised a hand to shelter my face from the rain, praying they would not recognize us.
“Sisters found her at the soup kitchen,” said Sean in a voice loud enough to cut through the hail. “The tower still down?”
The soldier raised the small black radio and made a show of pressing a button on the side with his thumb. “Complete silence. Unbelievable timing, isn’t it?”
Chase subtly repositioned himself between me and the car, blocking my view.
Every sane thought in my head told me to bolt, to grab him and run, just like we’d done time and time again, but I couldn’t. The soldiers didn’t recognize me, at least so far. Taking off now would be fatal, not just for us, but for Sean and Cara, too. We had no choice but to play this out.
“Why are you bringing in the whore?” the soldier pressed. “She the sniper?” His partner laughed.
Sean floundered. I glanced to Cara, who was flexing her hands against the sides of her skirt. Obviously she wanted to say something but couldn’t. A real Sister wouldn’t undermine a soldier’s authority.
“Says she might have a lead,” said Chase. He, too, guarded his eyes from the rain with his hand.
“We’ve got to get her back to base,” said Sean. “Command’s going to want to hear this.”
The driver said nothing for several long seconds.
“We’d give you a ride, but someone needs to watch the gate,” he finally answered.
“We’re fine,” said Sean. “Our car’s just around the corner.”
We were just about to pass when he called out to Sean one final time.
“Watch your back,” he said, rolling up the window as he spoke. “One of those maggots in the Square reported he saw a uniform on the roof after the sniper attacked in the Square. Thinks it was FBR.”
A spy within the MM. I almost liked the idea until I realized that every resistance fighter in a blue uniform was now in double the danger.
“Really,” Sean said flatly.
Without another word we passed and made our way to the sidewalk, keeping a brisk pace for five blocks until it was clear the streets were empty. Then we ran for five more. At the sound of a siren somewhere nearby, we took refuge beneath the awning of an old abandoned clothing shop. Sean kicked the boarded-up door, but it didn’t budge. Chase called him back, and with one hard kick he split the wood just above the handle. On the second try the door swung inward, and we all piled through.