CHAPTER TWO

     The guy scrambles to his feet, eyes darting from me to Tristan, and back to me. “What—what are you doing here?”

     “I’d like to ask the same of you.” I cross my arms.  

     Tristan steps forward, maybe to get between me and the stranger in case I lose patience and jump on him, but the guy—Aaron, I recall—keeps his focus on me.

     “The city is overrun.”

     “Why are you following me? I told you—I don’t know you.”

     “Is this the person—”Tristan begins.

     I nod. “Yeah. Overrun with what, exactly?”

     “Carmen is here. They have finally tracked you down. You can’t stay.”

     Tristan flinches, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Carmen who?”

     Aaron eyes Tristan. “Who is this?”

     “My friend.” And you have no right to be suspicious. “Start talking. Why are you here?”

     He looks back at me. “To warn you. You have to leave. I didn’t know they were so close, or I’d have made sure you left when I first saw you.”

     “Do I know you?” I step closer to Tristan, thankful that he is here during this strange encounter.

     “N-no. But you have to trust me. Carmen—”

A crash resonates from outside.

Tristan snatches his pistol from the ground. “Whoever this guy is, we have to leave. Now. We can chat later.”

The sound of a gunshot from a few blocks away makes it impossible to disagree. We grope to the door, Tristan’s light guiding us around the scattered shelves. I shove it open and we pile out. Light is bleeding from the door leading back into the first room. It must be almost dawn.

In the beams reflecting off the metal countertops, I get a closer look at our stranger. He looks much worse than the hours before, when I met him in my room. His hair sticks up in all directions, and heavy dark circles under his eyes give him a deranged, bruised look. I wonder if he’s been searching all over the city for me, avoiding the soldiers spread about the streets and muttering about a Carmen to himself.

We don’t go back through to the other room. I lead the way as we edge around broken machinery, water buckets as dry as my throat, and dented tin cans. I snatch up a knife from one of the counters, thinking it may come in handy when my bullets run low. We reach yet another heavy door and I hesitate.

“Think it’s safe?”

Aaron runs a hand through his hair, doing a fair imitation of a dying porcupine. “This is a kitchen. We might find some supplies, in case we get trapped somewhere.”

     I glance around the wrecked room we’d just walked through. “Some kitchen. Is there any food that hasn’t turned to dirt?”

     Tristan bends down and picks up one of the cans we’d been tripping over. “Let’s find a bag, or something.”

     I’m starting to feel claustrophobic in this grimy, dark place, but I help gather other tin cans of food from a battered cupboard leaning to one side over an empty sink. Aaron opens his backpack and stuffs as much as he can into the small space; the others we put in our pockets.

     Feeling like Tristan’s bulky tin can employer, I push open the next door and sigh with relief at the waft of cool air that slides over my sweaty face.

     “Can you see anyone?” Tristan whispers behind me.

     “No.” I step out, glancing down both sides of the street.

     “We have to get out of town,” Aaron says as we crouch by the brick wall of the building.

     “We’ll never get away on foot.” Tristan twirls his pistol. “Too many people around. The border is miles away.”

     “I’ve scouted around. You townsfolk only occupy a few miles radius in the whole city. If we got out of the civilized section, we could hide in the abandoned office buildings on the outskirts, then sneak away when Carmen has finished their search.”

     Tristan shakes his head. “Yeah, but how? We have to go through the streets, which are sure to be somewhat crowded by now. There’s no way we could escape without someone noticing.”

     Aaron peers out at the street. “What about the tunnels?”

     “What tunnels?”

     “From the war. All large cities have some kind of underground system, in case of an attack. We might be able to follow them to somewhere safer.”

     Tristan nods. “That could work. Once we get out of town—”

     “Would you two stop it?”  I hiss. “Who agreed to drag me around, anyway? I’m not convinced that we can’t just stay here. What do I have to do with any of this?”

     The two guys look at each other.

     “Allison,” Aaron begins.

     “My name is Ally, if you don’t mind. And I’m asking Tris.” I turn to stare at him.

     He looks away. “Look, um, maybe we can talk about this later? We should get in the tunnels, and—”

     “I’m not ready to follow this man.” I point to Aaron. “Why do you trust him?”

     “He seems concerned for your safety. Like I am.”

     I narrow my eyes. “What’s so dangerous that you have to team up with a stranger to protect me?”

     Tristan sighs. “I’m your friend. Isn’t that enough?”

     “We can discuss this later,” Aaron interrupts. “Someone’s coming.”

     I bite back a retort and grab Tristan’s wrist. “Just…don’t leave me. Okay?” I don’t want to be left alone with this strange guy who seems to know more about myself than I do.

     “I won’t.”

     Aaron leads the way along the side of the building, angling toward a short, square structure at the end of the street. “I think there should be something here.”

     I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of someone moving along the street in the early morning light, dark clothes contrasting with the pale cement walkway. I tug Tristan’s arm. “Can we go a little faster?”

     He looks back as well, and trips over a mound of trash.

     “In here,” Aaron hisses as Tristan’s boots clatter on the street. We duck inside the squat little house, the disturbed bits of trash drifting downward to signal our passing.

     “Think they saw us?” Aaron whispers in my ear, blowing warm puffs of breath in my hair.

     I swat him away. “I don’t know. Is there any place to hide in here?”

     “Can’t see a dad-blasted thing in this hole,” Tristan complains, pinching his nose. “Smells like a microwaved rat nest.”

     I push past him and venture further into the house. “No windows. It’s like a storm shelt—” the floorboards crumble beneath my boots.

     Aaron lunges for me. His fingertips brush mine and he yells, “Don’t try to land on your feet! Roll—”

     The broken boards smack my forehead as I try to twist sideways. I fall through the hole in the floor gouged by my weight and hit the ground. Pain spikes up my leg.

     “Ally!”

     “I’m fine.” I’m dizzy from the hit. I roll to my knees, and the motion sends little sparks of light dancing in my eyes.

     “Can you walk?” I recognize Aaron’s voice from above.

     “Maybe.” I press one hand to my head and reach for my left ankle with the other. I can move it, but not without shards of pain digging into my skin. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

     “Hold on.”

     I sit in the dark, my head and ankle throbbing. “There…there should be a way out from down here. I just can’t see anything.”

     “We’re going to find the stairs.” The floor groans as the two guys move above, sending pieces of wood raining down on my head.

     I scoot under the hole above me, hoping to avoid another head injury if the floor collapses under their collective weight, and for a moment, the little I can see in the dim light disappears. I wait, nausea building in my stomach, for my vision to return. “Tris…”

     “I’m almost there.” His voice sounds shrill and far away in my ears.

     I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing.

     Aaron speaks next. “Allison? Say something. I can’t see you.”

     “Hello,” I whisper.

     His hand falls on my shoulder and I flinch. “You okay?”

     “My head. And foot.”

     I feel fingers brushing over my face. “You have a small cut,” Aaron says. “But it isn’t bad. You hit it on something?”

     “Yeah.”

     “If you can move your ankle, it’s probably just sprained.”

     “Nova, I’m so sorry,” Tristan breaks in. “I didn’t see—I didn’t realize the floor was so unstable.”

     “It’s fine,” I mumble. I’m afraid if I open my mouth again, I’m going to puke.

     “Can you stand?”

     A hand slips under my elbow. Leaning on them, I manage to get upright, balancing on my right foot. My head swirls, and I still can’t see anything. “Where’d the light go?”

     A pause. “There’s a window over there, and some from above us.” One of them grabs my arm, and I realize I am slipping to the ground again.

     “Sorry.” My mouth tastes like dust.

     “We need to leave.”

     I feel hair brush my face as they readjust their hold on my arms and shoulders. “I’ll be fine,” I answer their unspoken worry. “Just…hold me up.” I don’t doubt now that we’ll be caught before we can escape to the borders of the city. But as we stumble forward like a drunken parade, my head stops dancing like a puppet on a string and I can make out shapes on the ground around us.

     Tristan, who I can tell now is on my right, feels me straighten and shifts so his arm is wrapped around my waist. “Better?” he whispers, maneuvering around some stacked boxes.

     “Yes.”

     “Here’s the door.” Aaron twists the knob, revealing a darker corridor than the way we just passed.

     I freeze. “I—I can’t go in there.”

     Tristan frowns, studying me. “What do you mean?”

     Aaron adjusts his hold on my arm. “It’s okay. We’ll both be here to help you.”

     I take a shaky breath, pushing away the dirt and stones that whirl forward in my mind, trying to bring me back to the nightmare in Tristan’s apartment. “Is this—is this the tunnel?”

     “They’re attached to houses and buildings across the city, in case of an attack.” Aaron fumbles with his backpack and pulls out his flashlight. “But…if you don’t think you can handle it—”

     I swallow hard. If this is the only way to get away safely, I’ll have to handle it. “I’ll be fine.” My foot is aching, and the idea of venturing back into the city at dawn when both guys believe dozens of people with guns are looking for me does not sound appealing. “Let’s just go.”

     Aaron arranges himself on my other side, letting me drape my free arm over his shoulder. He clicks on the light and we step into the tunnel.

                             ~

     “I was sent by a rebel base in Australia.” Aaron shines his light on the cracked walls of stone around us. “Carmen—”

     “Carmen’s that hospital in Ireland,” Tristan murmurs in my ear.

     “It’s technically a hospital, but they are the United and European government,” Aaron corrects. “They are not restricted by any governmental law or justice system.”

     In my city, the only justice system we respect is the kind you carry in a holster, so this doesn’t sound too outrageous, but I can tell Aaron is indignant. I guess all rebels are in some way.

     “Where does Ally fit into this?” Tristan’s shoulder is pressed to mine as he supports me down the tunnel.

     “She’s the pinnacle of this whole situation.”

     I’m sure Aaron doesn’t mean this in the insulting way it sounds.

     “Carmen lost you two years ago on purpose, after the war, then apparently realized their mistake when word got out about Flame—the rebel base.”

     Tristan’s fingers dig into my waist. “Lost her, huh?”

     I understand about half of what Aaron is saying, though I have the nagging feeling I should know more. “How does a government lose someone?”

     “You ended the fourth world war. And they got rid of you as fast as possible.”

     I twist to stare at him.

     He’s gazing down at the dirty floor, hands clenched on the flashlight. “I don’t suppose you remember anything about two years ago?”

     “Uh, well, that’s about when I found her,” Tristan volunteers. “In Kentucky.”

     “Before that, she was ridiculing Carmen during the war. So you can guess when she became the heroine, they weren’t too thrilled about the attention she’d get.”

     “I ridiculed Carmen?” I broke in. “I don’t know anything about them.”

     “You did. Before the explosion.”

The ground is shaking beneath my palms. Adrenaline pumps new energy through my body, and the explosions cause the walls around me to widen as earth crashes around me. The end of the tunnel is close now, so close I can feel the waves of fresher air coursing over my face. So close. I’m so close. But I planted a mine of bombs in my wake, and they’re coming alive now, destroying the dirt shafts and the soldiers behind me.

     “Ally?” Tristan calls in alarm.

     I slip downward, out of their arms, and collapse on the floor of the tunnel. The ground is shaking. Or maybe that’s me. I clutch my pistol, fighting for control over my body. My sprained ankle throbs, and my vision weaves in and out of darkness.

     I feel a hand on my shoulder, my forehead.

     “Stars,” Tristan mutters. “What’s wrong with her?”

     “Give me some water. Liquid, something.”

     I hear metal grating in my ear and jerk away. “Nova—hold still. It’s just…get me that knife.”

     That wakes me up. I scramble away from them and whack into the wall. I tilt my head up, and my eyes clear enough for the curled walls of the tunnel to appear. And Aaron’s pale face.

     “It’s just us, Ally.” Tristan appears next to him. “You…fainted, or something.”

     I struggle to slow my breathing. The ceiling is low, the walls close around me. They are like a coffin, sliding over to shut me inside. “Tris,” I gasp, stretching my hands toward him.

     He grasps them. “Hold on. Aaron’s going to find some way to get out.”

     My breath rattles in my throat, and there is a buzzing in my ears. “Talk to me, Tris.” Anything to silence the sound of my own head.

     He sits next to me, telling me about some stupid costumers at his job, about the cats that moved into his basement for two weeks, and he didn’t notice until the number of rats mysteriously diminished.

     I close my eyes and rest my head against his shoulder, blocking every sensation except his voice from my mind.

     I don’t know how long we sit like that. At some point, when my heartrate is slowing and I feel almost comfortable, Aaron returns, clumping down the tunnel and swinging his light. “I found something.”

     Tristan helps me to my feet—or foot, since I’m afraid of putting weight on my sprained ankle—and we limp together down the tunnel.

     Aaron leads us for a few minutes, then stops and pushes at the ceiling. The cement slab slides away, and he pulls himself through.

     “Give me her arms.”

     Tristan lifts me by the waist, and I grip Aaron’s wrists. In a moment, I’m lying on my side, pulling in deep gulps of the dusty air, trying to regain my composure. The silence deepens as my breathing slows. Dust filters through the air, glittering in the sunlight from cracks in the walls. I roll to my back and stare up at the ceiling, where a glass chandelier hangs by a chain, pieces missing from its sides.

     “I’m sorry.” The words grate in my throat.

     “It’s okay.” Tristan pats my shoulder; Aaron says nothing.

     I sit up, my head throbbing a little as I move. “Where are we?”

     “Somewhere on High Street.” Aaron pulls something from his bag.

     I try to remember where that is. “Uptown?”

     “Yeah.”

     “That’s good, right? Further from the plaza, anyway.”

     “Yeah, it’s better than I thought,” Tristan says. “We made a lot of progress before, um, whatever that was.”

     I can feel my face getting hot. “I—I don’t know. I guess I panicked, or something.”

     “I think I triggered something,” Aaron says, quietly. “When I mentioned the explosion.”

     I close my eyes. “What is the explosion?”

     “It’s what ended the war.” Tristan struggles with one of the cans from his pockets. “It set off a chain reaction and collapsed the entire Korussian capital. They surrendered the next day.”

     “Oh.” I’ve heard some history in my stay in this city, but little about the war no one wants to remember. “And Korussia…I suppose United was fighting them?”

     “United and Europe both. But they weren’t exactly allies. More like nations with the mutual goal to kill Korussia, and eventually get down to killing each other. Europe took the worse of it.”

     “And I did that.”

     Aaron scoots in front of me and holds up a strip of cloth. “Yes. Can I wrap your foot?”

     Wrap my foot? “Uh…”

     Tristan succeeds in breaking the seal on the can and sets it in my lap. “Eat up.”

     I poke one finger in the can. “What is this supposed to be?”

     “I dunno.” Tristan joins Aaron in staring at my boot. “Is it swollen or something?”

     “It appears to be, yes. We might have to cut the boot.”

     I choke on the food. “What? These are my only shoes.”

     “Can’t we do something else?” Tristan asks.

     “Well, it’s either that or let her hobble around with us as her crutches.”

     Tristan nods. “When you put it like that, I guess we should.”

     “Now hold on,” I protest. “I can’t hobble without shoes, either. There’s glass and stuff.”

     Tristan rolls his eyes, but Aaron sighs. “Okay. I’ll see if I can get the swelling down.”

     He stands and goes around the room, inspecting the broken pieces of furniture.

     “Does he know what he’s doing?” I mutter to Tristan.

     “I think so. More than I do, anyway.”

     Aaron returns with a low stool and a blanket that looks to be the former home of roaches and mice. He arranges it on the stool and sets it down before me. “Just need to get your foot above your heart.”

     “That sounds painful.”

     He shakes his head. “No, it should make it feel better. Rest up.”

     Tristan lifts my foot on the stool, and I lay back on the ground. The floorboards press into my spine. “This is not better.”

     Tristan taps my forehead. “Well, it’s either this or the split boots.” He stands and touches his pistol. “I’m going to scout around, okay with you?”

He’s looking at Aaron for approval. That annoys me. “You said you wouldn’t leave.” I finish the rest silently: wouldn’t leave me with this stranger.

“Well, that was before you couldn’t walk.” Tristan grins and runs a hand through his already tangled hair. “I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t die.”

CHAPTER THREE

I watch Tristan leave, shifting my position to get some pressure off my lower back. Aaron sits down beside me and scoots his backpack under my head.

“Thanks.” I angle my head to look at him.

He fidgets with the hem of his dark green shirt, brow furrowed like he’s rehearsing what he’s going to say in his mind.

I decide I’m entitled to a few questions while he practices his lines. “How did you know my name?”

“Flame told me.”

“And how did you recognize me?”

“We have pictures.”

That’s creepy. I imagine a room in whatever headquarters the rebels might have, with the name ALLISON emblazed over the door, and a huge photo of me with my black hair thrown back in the wind, a sour expression on my face. “Ah. And why did they send you?”

“I volunteered.” Aaron looks up at me. “You are more important to our cause than you know. If Flame can get the public to realize you are the girl that Carmen claimed to have been killed in the explosion, we might have a chance to overthrow them. I’ve been looking for you for two years.”

That seems excessive. I suspect he’s just like any other angry young man who wants to save the world from what he imagines is a serious threat to freedom and democracy. But somehow, as I study his dark eyes, I realize this may be more than just a childish dream. There is a determination on his face that makes me wish I had the courage to chase after a goal like this.

I swallow and look away. “They must be awful, if you are willing to do all this for your rebels.”

“It’s just time for a change.” He leans over and lifts my foot from the stool, sliding a finger in the boot. “I think once your friend gets back, we can get this thing off.”

I guess our conversation is over. I settle back on his pack.

                        ~

Tristan appears about a half hour later, his hair slicked back. “Got us some water.” He holds up an old milk jug.

I sit up on my elbows, pushing back the drowsiness that comes from sitting in silence while a guy lounges next to you, without uttering a word. I’m relieved Tristan has returned.

Aaron pushes himself upright, swiping a hand across his face. I had spent most of my time staring up at the ceiling, so I hadn’t realized he’d gone to sleep. Poor guy. Must be exhausting, tracking a historical hero down. “Great. Let’s wrap Ally’s foot and get going.”

Tristan’s expression sours. “Get going? I haven’t rested yet.”

     “You can rest tonight, once we get past the Capital.” Aaron moves in front of me, and lifts my foot as gently as if it were a precious artifact. “Is that water cold?”

     “Not really.” Tristan slouches next to the stool. “Where’s the bandage-thing?”

     Aaron dangles the cloth by two fingers. “Here. You help me slide the boot off.”

     I watch as Tristan grabs the heel of the boot, and Aaron the top. “This may hurt,” Aaron warns. “Don’t scream or anything.”

     “I’m not going to—augh!” I force myself not to pull away. “Are you sure it’s not too swollen still?”

     “It’s fine.”

     Easy for him to say. I hold my breath as they ease my foot out of the boot. Tristan cradles it in his hands while Aaron pulls something else out of his pack. I catch a glimpse of metal before a thin prick of pain interrupts the throbbing of my ankle.

     “What--?”

     Aaron holds up a needle. “I shot some anti-fluidedema in your foot. It should help with the swelling, as well as help it heal faster.”

     “Fluidedema? That’s not a real word.”

     “It’s the closest definition I can get to at the moment. Now, hold still.” He starts to wrap the bit of cloth around my ankle and foot.

     “There.”

     I study his handiwork. My foot looks like it’s wearing a bulky diaper. I raise one eyebrow at Aaron. “How’d you get all this stuff? And are you sure it’s going to help anything?”

     “I just have a simple first-aid kit.” He tucks the last bit of cloth in the folds of the bandage. “I’m a doctor; I know what I’m doing. ”

     A doctor, huh? Tristan and I exchange glances as Aaron grabs his backpack from behind me.

     “Let’s go.”

     I accept Aaron’s hand and get to my feet.

     “You should be able to put weight on that.” Aaron nods at my wrapped foot, which I’m holding suspended over the ground.

     I twist my lips and glance again at Tristan, who shrugs and turns away. Some help he is. I hobble over to the wall as Aaron slings his backpack over his shoulder, and Tristan sweeps some dust to cover our tracks.

     “Back to the tunnel?” I make my voice light and carefree.

     “No.” Aaron flicks his gaze to me. “We’ll go over ground. We covered the most dangerous place down there. It’ll be safe enough now.”

     I nod, relieved, but embarrassed that we have to change our plans to accommodate me. I duck my head and take Tristan’s arm as we follow Aaron from the room. Aaron is right: my foot is much better, whether from the rest or his skills with fabric.

     “Did you see anyone earlier?” Aaron asks Tristan.

     “Nah. Just the person I got this water from.” Tristan adjusts his hold on the jug. “She’s some old lady from a mile or so down that way.” He gestures to the left. “Talked some about the soldiers, though.”

     “What did she say?” I stare down at our feet, plotting the easiest way to get across the cracked asphalt.

     “They’ve been going around threatening people, asking for a slightly aggravating girl of eighteen, with black hair and who won’t smile. Also a good-looking guy of seventeen, who looks way more mature than she.”

     I try to hold back a smile.

     “Ah! You can’t be her. She always looks like someone just told her they burned her stolen house. If she does look pleased, it’s because someone just handed her a loaded rifle and gave her permission to shoot something.”

     I laugh.

     Aaron looks back at us and shakes his head. “Be quiet, you two.”

     “Yes, sir.” Tristan straightens.

     “Do I really look like someone burned my house?” I keep my voice low.

     “Nah. Just an exaggeration. But you really did scare me when I first saw you.”

     I think back to that day. “I guess I wasn’t very pleasant.”

     “You had a tough time, is all. I don’t blame you for trying to kill me.”

     “I didn’t—”

     “I count aiming a gun at my head as an attempt.”

     “She did the same to me,” Aaron says, slowing his steps to walk beside us.

     “Heh, well, it did the trick. Scared you off.”

     Aaron winces. “If I’d stayed there, demanded you to hear me out, we might have gotten away a little easier.”

     “Demanding Ally to do anything would be difficult.”

     He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess that’s why I didn’t try.”

     “I think we did get away easily,” I say, hoping to get the topic off me. “I mean, no one saw us. And no one’s found us.”

     Aaron stares at the distant rim of capital buildings. “I think they are tracking me. If they knew you are here, they’d be trying harder. Surrounding the city and flying helicopters above us with search lights.”

     “Helicopters?” I raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we still had those. All I’ve seen is the occasional rusty automobile.”

     Aaron gives me a sharp look. “You’ve seen some automobiles around here?”

     Tristan shrugs. “Ally and I run across them when we’re poking around and being bored.”

     I nod. “Yeah. I doubt they still work. I mean, it’s been years since the governments have allowed them, right? That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

     “Well, yes, but Carmen and other people with money are still making and improving them. I just didn’t realize they’re still around in places like this. If we could get our hands on one…” he trails off, reaching up to scratch at his dark blonde hair.

     I raise an eyebrow at Tristan. “Well…if you think you could get one to work…”

     “I may be able to.” Aaron stops in his tracks and pulls us over to the side of a brick house. “Where is the closest one?”

     I shake my head. “Nearer the plaza where all the soldiers were. It’d be hard to get at without being seen.” Besides, I’m not sure I want to go barreling around the city away from my home. I’ve finally made it inhabitable. Almost comfortable.

     “It may be our only chance. With it, we could get to Chattanooga, and then to where I could find us a ride to Australia.”

     I gape at him. “Wait, hold up. Who said anything about Australia?”

     “Yeah.” Tristan folds his arms and scowls. “I mean, keeping Ally away from this Carmen I can accept. But across the ocean?”

     Aaron stares at us. “Where else do you think she’d be safe? Flame’s in Australia. We need her to help us against Carmen.”

     I hold up my hands. “Oh no. I’m not…I can’t—”

     “Why do you think Flame sent me? We’ve got to get you out of United. Like I said, Carmen’s been tracking me. They figured out what I was looking for, and decided this was the easiest way to get at you. They know I’m here.”

     “This seems like your fault, then.” Tristan grips my shoulders. “You led them right to us.”

     “‘Us’? Who said anything about both of you? I’m talking about Allison. I don’t even know who you are.”

     “I’m her friend, that’s who. And I won’t let you drag her somewhere she doesn’t want to go.”

     “Well, I’m sorry, but I need to get her out. If I don’t, Carmen will drag her to Ireland. They might try to scare her into cooperating, or lock you up somewhere.”

     I’m starting to feel sick again. “Cooperate how?”

     “Maybe give your consent to support them. Europe and United haven't enjoyed being under Carmen's thumb, but with you, they have a chance to gain back favor."

     “I don't see how I can help. Besides, if the public realize that Carmen lied about my death, wouldn't that be bad for Carmen's plans?"

     “Yes, it would. That point would suggest they'd just lock you up. But if so, why not have killed you after the explosion? Why all the trouble of capturing you?" Aaron studies me, then turns his eyes to Tristan. “Do you see?”

     “Yeah,” he mutters. “But I still don’t like it.”

     “Flame would do the same thing to me.” I step forward, still leaning on Tristan’s arm. “Wouldn’t they?”

     “Ask for your support, certainly. But all they need is a good snapshot of your face to show the public. We need one nudge to topple Carmen. Your being alive would do that.”

     My life has never been so important before. I turn to look at Tristan, wanted to ask his opinion, but afraid of his answer.

     “I’m not sure we have a choice,” he says. “From what I’ve heard, Carmen’s pretty fanatical about the whole issue. There have been conspiracy theories about whether your death was faked before, and really, I’m not sure Flame even needs your help.”

     I hear his silent meaning. Perhaps there is some other reason Flame needs me Australia. Something Aaron is not telling me. Why send an agent across the world on a two-year mission to track a clueless person down if you could achieve your goal without them? I close my eyes, recalling the dream that appears more to be a memory as bits of my history are uncovered. The tunnel was real. The collapse, the explosions. The scar on my shoulder.

     Aaron touches my hand, startling me back to the present. “Please, trust me.”

     I open my eyes and stare at him. I reach up to my left shoulder without thinking and slide my fingers over the broken skin. My old life. I don’t remember it, but this man before me is offering pieces of my past like jewels.

     I step back, and he pulls away, looking at something over my head. “We’ve got to go.”

     I start to turn my head, but Tristan shoves me forward. “Don’t let them see your face.”

     “Who is it?” I hiss, edging to one of the brick houses.

     “People,” Tristan whispers helpfully.

     Aaron disappears through the window of a brick house, and Tristan heaves me up after him. We crouch on the dusty floor, staring at one another.

     “Maybe it’s time to get back in the tunnel.” Tristan glances at me.

     “No. We can’t risk Ally blacking out again.”

     Tristan peeks over the sill. “But if they’ve made it this far in their searching—”

     “Then maybe there’ll be less of them in the center of the city, where they’ve already searched.”

     I wish I could assure them I would not freak out in the tunnels again, but I’m having a difficult time convincing myself. I hate to feel in the way and troublesome. “What if…what if we go over and underground? We wouldn’t go so deep as the tunnels, but we wouldn’t be on the road, either.” I reach forward and dig my fingers under a floorboard. “Houses with no basements we could go under, in the foundation. With basements, we just go through the rooms themselves to avoid the streets.”

      Aaron nods. “That could work.”

     “Wait a minute,” Tristan protests. “Is that much better than the tunnels? And besides, I can’t help you if we’re crawling. What about your ankle?”

     “It’s better than the tunnels.” Not perfect, but at least the spells of crawling with minimal space will be shorter. And I’ll have some time to walk, too, when we reach places where we can’t go through the floors safely.

     “And her ankle should be better by now anyway. Crawling won’t put too much pressure on the ligaments. Just be careful you don’t twist it.” Aaron nods at me, as if approving of my idea.  

     Tristan sighs. “Whatever. What will we do once we get back?”

     “Get the automobile and leave the city.” Aaron looks over the window sill. “It’s clear now. Do we pull up floorboards here, or…”

     “We can go under the porch.” I get to my feet and swing one leg over the sill. “That leads straight under the house, and we can get to the next one without too much trouble.”

     As Aaron sneaks around the house to make sure we can get under the porch without detection, Tristan grabs my arm. “Ally,” he hisses. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, Australia…”

     “I know.” I watch Aaron disappear around the corner. “But you do think we need to leave the city, right?”

     “Yeah, I guess.” Tristan digs his hands in his pockets. “But I’m not sure I want to follow him across the world.”

     “You were the one who talked me into trusting him. What changed?”

     “His plan to go to Australia.”

     That’s a lame excuse in my mind, but since he’s on my side now, I shrug. “Then what do we do?”

     “We can refuse to go further with him once he helps us out of the city.”

     I make a face. “That’s cruel, isn’t it? I mean, letting him risk his life for us, then leave him?”

     “He risked his life just coming here. Do you have a better idea?”

     “No.”

     “Okay, then. We’ll help him get the automobile.”

     “It’s safe.” Aaron comes from around the house and beckons to us.

     Tristan and I exchange looks and follow him under the porch.

It’s hot under the house. I lead, since I’ve explored this part of the city and know where the gaps in foundation and floors are. We venture under the houses, skirting skeletons of small, dead creatures, broken plywood, and bits of plaster. Every few minutes, I hear someone outside in the clear air and we freeze, quieting the shuffle of our feet in the dirt. I’ve never been grateful for how cramped the houses are in this city, but we are able to crawl from one house to the next, almost without fear of being seen from the streets. By the time we reach the end of the line of dilapidated houses, my knees are sore from kneeling on the hard earth, my ankle is throbbing again, and my hands are full of splinters.

     I flick away a piece of glass stuck to my sweaty palm. “We’ll need to go through the houses now. The next have basements.”

     “That’s a relief.” Tristan’s face is shiny with perspiration.

     I reach up and whack the wood above us with my hands. Aaron joins me, and we pry a floorboard away and heave ourselves through the gap. We tumble free and lie in sweaty heaps on the floor.

     “How…far are we from the plaza?” Aaron pulls up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face.

     I crawl past him to the doorframe and peer through the cracks. “Still a ways. I can see Oliver’s shop, though. We’re on a hill.”

     Tristan joins me at the door. “See any soldiers?”

     I crane my neck to look on both sides. “No. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

     “They might be expecting us to travel only at night.” Aaron reaches in his backpack, where we’d stored Tristan’s jug of water, and untwists the cap. “Here.”

     I drink, then give it to Tristan. “We shouldn’t wait then. It’s getting pretty hot, and there might be less traffic on the streets.”

     “You lead again.” Aaron gets to his feet and slings the backpack over his shoulders. “Which is the shortest way down?”

     I push the sagging door out of the way and step out onto the street. The sun is beating down through the layer of dust, heating up the asphalt and cement. My bare toes, where the cloth ends on my wrapped foot, stretch upward to avoid the burning ground. Aaron and Tristan follow me as I dash across to the next house and into its murky interior. So far, nothing makes a sound.

     Twenty minutes later, I have splinters pricking through the cloth on my foot, and we’ve reached the end of houses and the beginning of old office buildings. I don’t want to risk venturing inside, where a wrong step could lead to a thunderstorm of bricks from above, so I skirt along the walls outside, half-closing my eyes against the murky glare of the sun.

     When we’ve made our way down the incline, I stop. “It’s more likely to run into people now.”

     Aaron peers inside the remains of a nearby store and hustles us inside. “We’ll wait until it’s dark, then.”

     Tristan and I find some stacked, dusty chairs and haul them to one side of the little shop, where the empty racks provide some shelter from whoever might look in at the door. We sit in silence, taking little sips of water from the jug, and wiping our faces off with some unravelling towels.

     Aaron pokes around the shelves and finds Tristan and I something to carry our cans in. I sling the shoulder strap over my head and set it on my lap.

     “How long ‘til dark?” Tristan asks after a while.

     “A couple hours, I think.”

     He sighs, then rests his head on the back of his chair and falls asleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

     “Ally.” Aaron shakes my shoulder. “C’mon. We need to go.”

     I straighten in my chair, yawning. “Wha time is ih?”

     “Past eight. Help me with your friend, will you?”

     I reach over and tug on Tristan’s hair. “Wake up.”

     “The streets are a little quieter now,” Aaron says, as Tristan wrinkles his nose and scoots lower in his seat. “How far to the automobile?”

     “There’s a garage at the edge of town.” I pull back on Tristan’s chair, dumping him to the floor. “It has a fence, but I’ve climbed it before.”

     “Let’s get going.”

     We creep out of the building, Tristan muttering something about mistreatment of friends, and I realize my ankle doesn’t hurt. When I tell Aaron, he says, “The shot I gave you sped the healing a bit. But it’ll still be tender, if you twist it or run.”

     I wish I’d had magic shots sooner in my life.

     As we hurry down the street, I turn to ask Aaron how he expects to escape driving an old vehicle through the center of the city, but Tristan grabs my arm. I can see a shadowy figure coming across the street toward us. It’s dark, so I duck my head and start to shuffle along the street like any normal beggar, but Aaron almost yanks me off my feet in a mad dash across the alley.

     “Hey, you!”

     Perfect. I grip his shirt in both fists and will my legs to keep up as we spring to the buildings lining the street. A shot rings out, but I feel nothing except the frantic pulsing of my heart, and the slight throbbing in my ankle beginning again.

     “Where’s the garage?” Aaron huffs in my ear as we near the next alley.

     “That way. Go!” I shove off my good foot and propel us forward.

     Shouts rise around us. I duck automatically at the click of a dozen guns and pull Aaron off balance. He trips over a loose stone and falls, dragging me after him. My foot twists beneath me and I cry out.

     “Get up,” Tristan gasps, tugging Aaron’s arm.

     I fumble in my pocket for my pistol and lift it in time to be blasted to pieces by a bullet. I fling it away from me, feeling the sting of force on my fingers, and the blood gathering on my fingers, and try to force my feet back under me. The soldiers are racing toward us. I hear a command rippling through them, calling to hold their fire. Yes, please, I can’t fight if I’m shot.

     I grab Tristan’s hand and the three of us stumble toward the garage, where the fence stretches several feet above us, the coils of barbed wire hanging in strips down the sides.

     “Out of time,” Aaron says, breathing hard. “Permission to throw you?”

     I give him a startled look. “What now?”

     “Can’t throw you completely over. Prepare to grab the fence.”

     Aaron and Tristan take my waist and fling me toward the fence. I hit the wire and stick like a fly in a web, my fingers curling over the crisscrossing cables. I’m near the top, so I edge sideways until I can see a gap in the barbed wire, and drag my left leg over the top. The movement of my sore foot makes me grit my teeth.

     “Move out of the way.” Tristan is right beside me. “We’re exposed here.”

     “They’re not supposed to shoot me—”

     “What about us?” Aaron nudges me aside and flips over the side, Tristan following, scaling downward for a few feet before hopping to the ground.

     I start to move down the fence, but Tristan yells, “No time! Jump!”

     I land on top of him.

     When we get to our feet, some soldiers are attempting to follow us over the fence, while others run along the side, searching for the gate.

     “Get inside!” Aaron pushes me through the door, then slams it shut behind us, twisting the thick metal bolt into its slot.

     I limp to the wall, the magical shot seeming to have worn off, and lean against it, trying to catch my breath and figure out if I’ve lost any fingers from the shot to my gun. “What now?”

     “Where’s the car?” Aaron moves through the dark room, tripping over things strewn about on the floor.

     “There’s something right—”

     He stumbles backward, cursing.

     “—In front of you.”

     “Gee, thanks for the warning.” He rubs a hand over his face and leans forward. “What the Nova…?”

     “It’s the automobile.” I wave Tristan over in the dim light from the cracked ceiling and hold out my hands. “Have anything helpful in your bag?”

     “Looks like something from the Dark Ages,” Aaron remarks, struggling to open the door.

     That doesn’t sound promising. “Can you make it work?”

     “I…maybe?”

     Tristan makes me sit down and dabs at the blood on my hands. “I think you’ve only lost about a quart of blood, so you’ll be fine.”

     Aaron makes a squeaking sound. “A quart of what?”

     “He’s joking,” I call. “Pay attention to your work.”

     Tristan pours some water over my fingers, then leans forward. “I think the bullet grazed your hand.” He wrings out the cloth and ties it around my palm. “That should hold it.”

     “Thanks, Dr. Ardell.”

     “Would you two quit goofing off and help me?” Aaron pokes his head from the car and glares at us.

     I struggle to my feet. “Okay.”

     “That would end badly.” Tristan grins at me. “She’s incompetent with things that do not have a trigger.”

     I glare at him.

     “You can hold the light.” He flips the flashlight to me.

     I press my thumbs to the switch and aim it at the automobile. It looks even worse than I’d remembered. I’m regretting ever agreeing to let Aaron drive me around in this thing. “How do you make it go?”

     “Without the key, we’ll need to hotwire it.” Aaron disappears again inside.

     “That means twist some things together,” Tristan clarifies.

     “Ah. Thank you. That makes a lot sense.”

     He flashes me a grin and points to the door. “Guard that, will you? They might sneak up on us.”

     I hand him the flashlight and limp over to the door. I press my face against the wood and listen. “I don’t hear anything.”

     “That’s what I’m worried about.” Aaron’s voice is muffled.

     Me too. I wish I could see through the door and figure out what the soldiers are doing. I watch as Tristan and Aaron struggle with a plastic piece under the wheel.

     “Don’t want them…sneaking up on us.” Tristan adjusts his hold on the flashlight and smacks the dashboard with his palm. “Stupid—”

     I start to lean against the door, but a thump makes me jerk forward. I limp away from it and reach into my pocket, only to grab at empty air. “Guys…”

     “Huh?”

     “They’re inside the fence.”

     I back up and look into the automobile. “Are you guys almost done?”

     “I-I think so.” Aaron wipes a forearm over his face.

     “Whatever you’re going to do, now’s the time,” I hiss as the old garage door groans.

     Aaron tosses something aside and wraps the hem of his shirt around his hand before twisting two wires together. Lights flicker to life along the dash. “You see a door anywhere?”

     Oh. I look around the garage and spy the large, paneled door on one wall. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to open it.”

     “Figure it out.”

     I move toward the larger door just as the other splinters. An arm appears in one of the holes and scrambles along the wood, probably searching for the deadbolt. I turn and dive into the passenger’s seat of the car just as Aaron cries out. He’s clutching his right hand to his chest, and smoke curls up from the hem of his shirt. The engine rattles to life.

     “What—”

     “I’m fine.” He grimaces. “Just what happens when you touch a live wire.”

     The door flies open and soldiers pour into the room.

“Hang on.” Aaron yanks on a lever, and the car lurches forward. “Where’s the door out of here?”

“Just drive through it!” I pat my pockets, then reach over and dig my hand into Aaron’s. “I need the gun.”

“You can have it. But what do you mean, drive through it?” The car slows as we near the paneled wall.

“It’s half rotten anyway. Go!”

Aaron grips the wheel and shoves down on the gas. We plow through the door, wood splinters flying everywhere and the old car groaning from the impact.

     Through the roar of the engine, I catch frenzied cries and calls from behind and in front of us. “They’ve surrounded the…” I realize something. “Where’s Tris?”

     Aaron’s eyes are wide in the darkness. “I—I’m not—”

     “How could you lose him?” I yell over the noise. We get through the old garage door and smack into a soldier just outside.

     “He was sitting right here a minute ago!”

     I curse and scramble over the seat to the back. The window is caked with dust, but I scratch a hole big enough to peer through. I can see him running after our slowing car as we near the fence.

     “Stop!” I fling open the door and jump to the ground, forgetting my ankle in my haste. I hit the ground and fall to my knees as my ankle gives out. “Tristan!”

     He clambers over the ruins of the door and ducks as a shot rings out.

     “Get in the car!” The automobile grinds to the right as a screech of metal tells me that Carmen has opened the entrance of the fence.

     I shove against the ground to regain my footing and start to run back toward Tristan, when the soldiers appear in the shattered doorway.

     I scream as more bullets rip through the air, one flying by my shoulder, most aimed at the young man racing toward me.

     He falls.

     “Allison!”

     I can’t see. Somehow, I’ve collapsed to my knees again, yards from where Tristan lies.

     A hand grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. “C’mon. We can’t do anything.”

     “No! Carmen will—they’ll—”

     “We’ve got to leave.”

     Tristan doesn’t move. I can see something dark collecting on his shirt, leeching downward to the dusty ground. The first soldier reaches him and nudges him with one boot, then focuses on me.

     I lift Aaron’s pistol and shoot the soldier through the heart.

     Aaron drags me to the automobile as I aim and fire at each of the soldiers that pour through the doors. As Aaron tosses me into the backseat, I shatter the rear window with another bullet before realizing I can’t see any more of the soldiers.  

     Aaron steers the car to the open fence gate and out into the city streets. I huddle in the backseat, cradling my pistol in my wounded hand, the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage over my palm.

     Outside, lights are flashing in the roads, reflecting off damaged signs littering the sides of the streets, shouts and the roar of engines filling the air.

     I stare down at the gun, noticing the streaks of scarlet on the thick, black plastic.

     “Hold onto something!” Aaron yells over the chaos, swerving to the other side of the road.

     I try to answer, but the words die in my throat as a new sound emerges above the automobile’s motor. The whine of a tech weapon.

      “Ally. You have to—” His jaw clenches as the car races around a sharp turn. “—stop that gun. They’ll blast us off the road.”

     I wipe blood from my face and rise to my knees, the pistol gripped in my fingers. Through the shattered window, as the wind whips hair in my face, I can see a figure crouching on top of one of the vehicles.

     Hot hatred burns through me. The black-clad figure on the vehicle stands behind his gun, resting a hand on the trigger.

     A voice booms from somewhere above us. “Surrender to the authority of Carmen, or we will exercise our right to fire on your unauthorized vehicle.”

  Aaron meets my gaze as the voice continues, warning us that further violation of their authority will result in unhappy consequences. As it pauses to give us the time to mull over our choices, I close my eyes. “Keep it steady.”

He nods, gripping the wheel more tightly in his hands, and eases his foot off the gas. Our speed drops.

I have one second to get the barrel of the little pistol aimed at the figure’s chest, and that’s enough. A bang echoes through the air. A curl of smoke drifts up from the window, and the man teeters, slumps, and crashes to the ground. I can see for a moment the chaos I’ve caused, other weapons going off with poor aim, the lead vehicle veering to one side and clawing through a brick wall; then I slump back into the seat, the gun slipping from my fingers. Aaron’s going again, guiding our car back on the open road, picking up the speed we lost earlier, a layer of bridges and roads lying crisscrossed beneath us, the dusty gray sky appearing above the tops of the buildings.

The lights and shouts fade behind us.

                        ~

I can’t sleep. The rumble of the engine drowns out my thoughts, and I lay curled in a ball, staring out the window as the sky lightens, the sun just touching the horizon.

“Did you sleep?” Aaron is slumped in the driver’s seat, one hand relaxed on the wheel. The roads are so straight, there’s almost no need to adjust our position.

I try to remember, but all I can picture is the mound of bodies around Tristan, killed by the single pistol in my hands. “I guess.” The words come out in a whisper, so I try again. “I’m okay.”

Aaron turns in his seat, but I keep my gaze to the window, watching the landscape flash by, a blur of old buildings and cracked, dry earth. “I’m sorry.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. “Okay.”

“I should have realized he wasn’t in the car,” Aaron says in a low voice. “I didn’t know…”

“If you’d let me go to him,” I whisper. “You could have saved him.”

Aaron shakes his head. “I don’t have the supplies to do that.”

I whack the window with my palm, startling both of us. “Does that matter? You left him with those people. I could’ve—”

“What? What could you do? I saw where they hit him. Carmen’s the only one that could save him from injuries like that, if they wanted to. And believe me, they won’t want to, unless he could somehow help them find you. And they’d have to fly him to Ireland, which means a lot of money on their part.”

The thought fills my mind. “Do you think…”

“No.” He grips the wheel. “They aren’t like that.”

I slump back in my seat and bring my knees to my chest. I can’t push away the image of him on the ground, the blood seeping to the dirt, the soldier nudging him with one foot, the gun held ready. I don’t realize I’m crying until the car stops, and Aaron joins me in the back, putting his arms around me and letting me rest against his chest.

                        ~

     Welcom  to Chattano ga

     The paint on the sign is chipped, the sign lying half on the wide road and half on pieces of old tire rubber along the shoulder.

     Aaron drives in the center of the street, inching the automobile between cracked pavement and road signs. I lay curled in the passenger’s seat, watching an ugly black spider crawl along the inside of my window. The car tilts back as Aaron starts up a ramp, and the thin eight legs stop and grip the glass, but the layer of dust is too slippery. The creature slides backward and hangs by a thread.

     “We’ll be in Georgia soon.”

     I glance up at Aaron, then back to the spider.

     “I think we can stay for a day here, then start again tonight.” When I don’t answer, he reaches out and touches my arm. “Are you awake?”

     “Yes.” The spider starts crawling up the window again.

     “There’s an old motel a few miles from here. Tonight, we’ll cross to Alabama and find my contact to get us to Australia.”

     Oh yeah. I remember now that my plan was supposed to be getting away from Aaron to escape the trip across the ocean, but now I can’t think of what to do afterward. Wouldn’t he just track me down again? Everything feels impossible. I sink lower in my seat and rest my head against the car door. It can wait, I suppose. Or maybe I should go to Australia, now that Tristan can’t help me. I’m not sure I can survive anywhere on my own.

     Aaron drives in silence for another ten minutes, going through empty intersections and over the top of red, faded signs. I’m drifting back off to sleep when he halts the car, the engine quieting. “This is it.”

     I straighten and look out the window. Maybe in the years before United crumbled, it was a five-star resort for bureaucrats, but now the rows of gilded windows gape like eye sockets, and the huge cement hole along one side is filled with rusty pipes and garbage bags instead of swimming pool water. “Looks like a dump.”

     “It is,” Aaron agrees. “But it’s the best place this section of the city has to offer.”

     “I think I’d rather sleep in the street.”

     He gives me a sidelong glance. “You’d be rethinking that once all your gear is stolen and someone drags you off in the middle of the night.”

     That doesn’t bode well. I get out of the car and we trek up the narrow walk to the door. Aaron pushes it open, and I am greeted with the interesting mixture of odors that reign from sweaty feet to week-old fish. It may have been an elegant lobby of a hotel in its better days, but now rundown chairs and tables are scattered throughout the floor, making it look more like an old pub.

     Aaron leads the way to the counter, where an overweight man is snorting large vats of beer down his throat. Aaron taps his arm. “Mr. Willard.”

     The man guzzles some more.

     “Mr. Willard.” Aaron raises his voice above the hubbub of the lobby.

     No response.

     I reach across the counter and shove the jug out from under his double chin.

     Aaron gives me an annoyed look, but the man finally looks up. His eyes are so bloodshot I can’t tell their true color, and the fat gathered at his chin quivers with indignation. “Hur, what—” he leans closer to Aaron, who I can tell is forcing himself not to back away. “Ahhh!” The man fumbles for his vat, obviously forgetting it has scooted a yard or so down the counter. “Aden Ferret, isn’t it? Howaryah?”

     “Uh, Aaron Gerick, actually. I came in a while back…”

     The man nods several times. I watch the blubber move under his bobbing head. “Ah know who yah are, Ferret. Gave me a whole dollar las’ time you was here.” He reaches around several layers of fat, searching in his vast breeches.

     Before he finds it, Aaron speaks up. “Well, uh, I need…we need a place to stay for the night. Is there a clear room?”

     The bloodshot eyes narrow. “Hum. There MIGHT be. I’ll hava check. Hol’ on.” He heaves himself from the stool and waddles drunkenly a few yards toward a stack of smudged paper.

     I lean against the counter, then straighten when I notice the caked dirt and solidified oil coating the top. Around the dim room, crowds of men and women drink their own personal vats.

     “This is the only hotel that’s been made into a business. No decent person will let strangers into their homes.” Aaron looks back at Willard, who may or may not be making any progress on his scattered pages. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know of any other place.”

     I try to remember if I’ve made any snide comment on the conditions of this place, or if the look on my face is enough to convey my disgust, but Willard interrupts.

     “Aha!” He yells. A few men holler in drunken answer to his shout, and Willard drags his weight back to the stool, where he perches. I don’t know how he manages to balance. “Well, Ferret. It seems that girl Lucy doen’t know howa keep a rec’rd. But I can open a new room, an you an’ your girl can stay there, seein’ as you know howa pay. Okie dokie?”

     “That’s fine.”

     “Fine.” Willard rubs his hand, eyeing Aaron’s backpack.

     Aaron digs out a wad of wrinkled paper. “We’ll find our own way. Thanks, Willard.”

     “No prob’em, Ferret. Hava nice night.” He winks at me—or may it’s just a nervous twitch—and finds another vat to immerse himself in.

     I follow Aaron out of the noisy, smelly room into an equally smelly hall. “You know which room it is?”

     “Yes. He means if we can find a presently empty room, we can stay.”

     I picture an angry, drunk man hopping around the hall, watching me and Aaron putter around his former room.

     “Here, this looks okay.” Aaron pushes open a door, and we step inside.

CHAPTER FIVE

     I step in, expecting rat-and-flea infested quarters, but the room looks better than I would have thought possible. Aaron sets his backpack on the stained but swept floor and flexes his shoulders. I go to the window and pull back the yellowing curtains to gaze at the empty streets. I’ve never seen a lonelier place. Far to the right, under a large sign reading DOLLAR TR E, I make out a few figures moving about, but the rest of the road in front of me is clear of any people.

     I let the curtains fall back in place and sit on one of the chairs next to an old table, feeling the exhaustion settling over me again, though I’d spent the last eight hours sleeping in the automobile.

     “How are you feeling?” Aaron sits down next to me.

     I stare down at my hands. “Fine.”

     Aaron sighs. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

     “Well, what do you want me to say?”

     “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

     I slump lower in the chair. “I don’t know. Tristan’s gone, I have to leave the country, and some fanatical government is chasing me around. How should I feel?”

     “Not fine.” He studies my face. “Please, Ally, I can help with something.”

     “You can help by leaving me alone.”

     “You know, I’m starting to wonder if you even thought of Tristan as a friend. Most friends would be upset.”

     I squeeze my hands into fists. “You think I’m not upset?”

     “Sure, you cried in the car. But what about now? What about then? All you did was shoot people.”

     My throat is so tight I’m not sure I can speak. Who does he think he is, questioning me? How can he know that if I let my emotions go for one second, I’ll fall apart? I’ve barely made it this far. I struggle to take in another breath, avoiding his gaze. “I—”

     He waits.

     “I need to go to bed.” I force myself out of the chair and stumble to the single bed in the corner.

     “Sure, go, but you can’t escape this situation.” Aaron’s voice follows me. “If you won’t let me help, you’ve got to help yourself. United and Europe are in danger, and they need you. Pull yourself together for a while longer, or let me help you get over it. Hiding is not going to help anyone.” I can hear the strains of sympathy weaving through his words, but I can’t dwell on them, or I’ll lose the little composure I have left.

     I crawl between the sheets and pull the thin blanket over my head, blocking out the light, but not his words.

     “Even if you don’t care what happens to you, I do.”

     I close my eyes, almost wishing that the tears threatening to choke me will fall, but they don’t. The little knot of pain grows tighter, and my only escape is sleep.

                             ~

     Somewhere, a door slams. I jolt awake, my hand fumbling under the pillow for my pistol. A shadow moves near the wall, and I cock the gun, aiming for the silhouette against the dim light beyond the curtains.

     “It’s just me,” Aaron says in a low voice, coming closer. “We need to move.”

     “What is it?” I lower the gun and pull my legs from the sheets.

     “I’m not sure. I heard some voices.”

     I squint around the room, trying to make sense of the dark objects lining the walls and floors. “Move out of the city?”

     “Maybe. I talked to Willard, and he heard that some strangers came on the highway thirty minutes ago—about three-forty-five. They could be from Carmen.”

     “How did they find us so fast?”

     He hands me my bag. “I’m not sure. I need to scout about a bit, get out of the most obvious place and see if they’re dangerous.”

     “We might as well leave now.”

     “Yeah, I was hoping to see if I could find some gasoline for our automobile around here somewhere. It’s new enough that it lasts pretty long by itself, but not enough to get to the next city.” Aaron pauses. “I guess we’d better, though. Grab some food from the lounge. I’ll be back in a few minutes, just to see if we’re clear to leave the area without attracting notice. Maybe wait a bit before going out though, in case I run into something in the lobby.”

     I nod, then remember he can’t really see me. “Got it.”

     “Stay safe.” Aaron slips his boots from his feet and pads to the door, glancing over at me. For a second, I catch the glint of his eyes. Then he’s gone, edging around the door and shutting it behind him.

     I pull my knees to my chest settle back on the bed. With Aaron gone, his lecture a few hours ago surfaces in my mind again, sending a mixture of annoyance and pain through me. He doesn’t know what I’m dealing with. Or maybe he does, since he went through the war just like everyone else in the world. But I need to push through this, and his method of talk-it-out-and-you’ll-feel-better doesn’t sound like a way to avoid the pain.

     Even so, I find myself wishing I had been more willing to listen to Aaron. I know he’s only trying to help, and I’d shut him out.

     The seconds tick by.

     I stand up, toss my boots in my bag, and slip my jacket around my shoulders, then creep out of the door. I head down the hall toward the lounge. I find the counter, groping in the dark, and strike a match to light the single lantern hanging on a nail. Light bleeds through the layer of grime, and I reach below the counter for any supplies we may need.

     It doesn't occur to me until after I shove several canned goods and a loaf of dry bread in my pack that this counts as stealing. Back home, any food you can lay your hands on is fair game, and when you're struggling against starvation, little things like thievery don't make a big impact on the most honest of souls.

     I crawl back across the counter, consoling myself that a person like Willard deserves to be stolen from on occasion.

     I blow out the flame from the lantern and start back to my room, benches appearing in front of me in the dark, and muffled voices leeching from a room nearby.

     Wait. Muffled voices? At almost four in the morning? I remember that Aaron talked to Willard at some point tonight, but I doubt Willard would be having a discussion with himself in two different voices, unless he’s drunk. Which I suppose is a real possibility.

     I grip my bag and step into the hall, careful to avoid any tripping hazards. The voices sharpen as I tip-toe toward my room at the end of the hall.

     “Where’s Willard?”

     “Left him in bed. The door’s locked, so even if he does wake up soon, he won’t be able to leave.”

     “Thought he said room fourteen.”

     “He did. But there aren’t any room numbers on these doors. Could be the next one over. Or any down the hall.”

     “I guess. But be quick. No sense in waking whoever’s sleeping next door.”

     I don’t hesitate any longer. I don’t know if these people are from Carmen or not, but either way, they could be heading to my room in the next few seconds, and I don’t want to answer any of their questions. I go as fast as I can to my own room and slip inside just before lights appear under the door, and a door shuts.

     I race to the window. The curtains seem to make more screeching protests along the rusty pole than they had a few hours ago, so I duck behind them instead, tugging at the flaking wood panels of the window.

     I hear the door from a few doors down sliding open and stealthy footfalls coming down the hall again.

     I run my gaze over the room, searching in the dim light from the window for any evidence that we’ve stayed overnight. Too much evidence. My covers are still thrown back from the bed, and the cushions litter the floor. The window slides back at last from the prodding of my fingers, and I shove my shoulder underneath to encourage its rise. I toss my bag to the stones below, say a silent prayer that no rotten little thief will come along, and dash back across the room.

     If these men are professionals, they’ll know to check for heat on the mattress itself, but I doubt I have time to flip the whole thing. I fold back the covers instead, turn the pillows to conceal the warmth from my head, and toss the cushions back onto the mattress. I run back to the window on my bare feet as the men approach my door, and lift my leg through the opening.

     Shadows stretch toward me under the doorframe, and I duck my head through the window and fall to the street below. As the knob turns, I yank the glass down and it slides into place as the curtains settle from the breeze of the streets.

                             ~

     I run into Aaron on his way back to the front gate.

     He takes in my flushed face and bare feet, the bag still hanging by one strap from my shoulder. “You found them. Let’s go.”

     “Where’s the car?” We run down the street, rats scuttling from our feet.

     “Can’t take it. Surrounded by Carmen.” Aaron ducks into another road, where a few streetlights flicker on and off.

     I push away the image of us running all the way to Australia and focus instead on avoiding the broken glass littering the roads. “Where to, then?”

     Aaron pauses by a corner. “Go as fast as we can to Tuscaloosa, Alabama.” He looks at my feet, my toes curling from the cold seeping off the stones. “What happened at the inn?”

     I dig in my bag for my boots, guessing if Aaron thinks we have time to chat, I have time to dress. “They may or may not have come into our room with all implications that we stayed there strewn about.”

     “What?”

     “‘May not have,’” I repeat. “I did my best in the few seconds I had to flip pillows and such.”

     He gives me an anguished look. “Then…we have to run again. I didn’t know they’d make it to our room.”

     “Where’d you find them?” I start down the street again.

     Aaron chases after me. “Just on the streets near the south gate. They must’ve split up.”

     “South gate?” Our boots clatter on the stones, and my breath puffs in white bursts before my mouth.

     “There’s a bordering fence around the inhabited section of the city. It’s the only open one, and Carmen’s blocking it.” Aaron wipes his forehead.

     We slide to a halt before a high tower built with layers of large stones. Unlike the simple wire fence in Columbus, the one on either side of the tower and stretching out of sight is made of smooth cement, stretching high above our heads. “What the Nova are they trying to keep out?”

     “It’s one of the most secure areas left in South United. The city is a government stronghold, but I thought it could be safer than another place.”

     “You do realize we’re running from the government.”

     He glares at me for a moment. “You weren’t exactly bursting with bright ideas either, as I recall.”

     I clench my fists, remembering his lecture in the motel. “Well, let’s get over this thing.”

     “I think hiding in the city might be a better option.”

     “Carmen’s guarding the only other way out, right? We’d be stuck here until you built up enough nerve to try to sneak out the other gate.”

     “I built up enough nerve?”

     I don’t wait for a repeat of his sermon. I leave him standing there and creep up to the little door leading to the stone tower. The lock is a simple padlock, so I get my kitchen knife from my bag and jiggle it in the key hold.

     Aaron watches as I turn the knob and step inside. “What do you plan to do, open the gate?”

     I ignore him and start climbing the stairs. If this is a government-protected city, then our government is poorer than Aaron let on. Or perhaps United just isn’t their concern at the moment. That seems more likely, based on the condition of the country.

     Aaron follows me up to the top of the tower, and across the layer of dust to a narrow window. “We’ll climb down.” I glance back at him.

     He peers past me at the ground below. “You expect me to climb down that?”

     I follow his gaze. “Look, it’s stone, so there will be places to hold on to. I have a knife, so—”

     Voices echo below us.

     I whip around. “Did you close the door?”

     Aaron’s face is pale in the beam of his flashlight. “I think so.”

     I bite back a curse. “We’re out of time.” I throw my leg over the ledge. My knife clenched in my teeth, I stretch my right leg down, searching for a foothold. “Think you can hide our footprints?”

     Aaron glances around at the dust. “No.”

     My foot hits a notch in the wall. I tighten my fingers on the window sill and drag my other leg over.

     “They’re coming up the stairs.” Aaron puts his back to the window, as if to hide me.

     I glance over my shoulder, and dig the blade of my knife in a crack on my left. I edge down the wall, finding new places to put my feet. As soon as I’ve moved far enough to the left, Aaron lowers himself on the wall, gripping so tightly I can see his fingers whiten in the glow of the moon behind the layer of dust in the sky.

     “Here.” I shove my fingers between two stones and pull the knife free. “You can use this.”

     “No, you need it.”

     “Not as much as you do.”

     Aaron hesitates, then reaches down and takes the knife. I can only hope he won’t lose his footing and land on me.

     My instincts are taking over. My boots are too bulky to be helpful anymore, so I shake them loose and they fall to the ground. My toes grip the stones, feeling their way along the side and below me. I inch another foot down.

     Above me, light blazes in the small room. The old tower shudders as someone races across the wooden floor to the window. “Here!”

     I’m a fly on the wall now, an easy target with no way to defend myself. My fingers ache. I lower myself further down the wall, panic coursing through me. I look up past Aaron and see the person who’d spotted us aiming a rifle. I flatten against the stones as the shot rings out.

     “Jump, Ally!” Aaron yells as another shot echoes across the tower stones.

     I glance down. Fifteen feet, maybe more. Aaron lurches sideways, blocking my body from the gun in the soldier’s hands, sending a rain of pebbles on my head. No time to think. I, hang one instant by my fingers, then push away from the wall. I land with my knees bent and my palms slamming into the ground. I drop my right shoulder and roll to my feet. My hands are stinging, and my bare feet smart from the sharp pebbles littering the ground.

     I hear Aaron screaming for me to run, and the crack of shots ring out again. I turn on the rough terrain, running with my bag jouncing on my back, and my recovered boots hugged to my chest.

                                  ~

     The darkness is a shield.

     I run through the prairie grass toward the shadowy clumps of buildings in the distance, my numb feet aching from cold and pain.

     “They’re coming through the gates,” Aaron rasps from behind me.

     “How many?” I gulp in another breath of the cold air.

     “I don’t know.”

     I shove the tall grasses aside, slowing to a jog as they get higher and thicker. Behind me, Aaron’s breathing is short and frantic, I turn.

     His lips are white. “Keep going,” he orders, one hand pressed to his right shoulder.

     I can see blood seeping between his fingers. “You…”

     “Don’t freak out. I’m fine.”

     I swallow and look away, fighting to stay calm. “I’m not freaking out.”

     “Good. We need to make it around to the other side of the city. We can hide there.”

     I press one hand to my stomach, keeping my gaze away from him. “Can you make it? Maybe we can just stay here.”

     “No, they have planes and searchlights. Just go left. We’ll run into something eventually.”

     I start shoving through the dead grass again, trying to keep my pace matched with Aaron. “What are those buildings in front of us?”

     “Storage units.”

     “Maybe we can go there. It’s not so far.”

     He doesn’t answer, just continues struggling through the grass behind me.

     “Aaron?”

     “Fine, that’s fine, just go.”

     “Okay. Could have just told me that.”

     “Pardon me if I’m not feeling chatty.”

     I resist the urge to ask again if he’s alright, and a beacon of light appears behind him. I freeze. “Get down!”

     I drop to the carpet of fallen grass, pulling Aaron down beside me, who grunts in pain. The light sweeps north, the drone of an engine following it.

     “We’ll…have to crawl.” I can hear the pain in Aaron’s voice. 

     With that shoulder? “How do you expect to—”

     He sits up in the grass, yanks off his shirt, and begins securing it around his shoulder. “Help me.”

     My fingers are numb from pushing the sharp grass aside. I try to ignore the scarlet on his skin and tug at the cloth, trying to tighten it. “Tourniquet?”

     “No. It’s not that bad.” He shivers in the cool air. “Go.”

     I want to dig a blanket from my pack, but the plane blares above us, urging me forward. I crawl through the grass, angling toward what I hope is the direction of the storage place. Aaron follows, the only sign of his pain in the sharp intakes of breath every few feet.

     The lights sweep in front of us again, and I pause. “Do you think we’re leaving much of a trail?” I look over my shoulder.

     He twists and winces. “Not…too bad, I think. If we are, they would’ve set some kind of alarm by now.”  

     I’ve never been grateful for tall, itchy prairies before, but now I bless the thick stalks, even though they do cut like knife blades. We forge ahead, flattening against the ground whenever the light sweeps above us for what feels like hours.

     When my arms are shaking with fatigue, I hear a thud behind me. I turn around. In the dark, I can only see the dim outline of his body, but I can tell he’s no longer moving forward.

     “Come on.” I scoot backward and touch his uninjured arm. “We’re almost there.”

     “Don’t…think I can.”

     Fear encircles me. “You’d better. I don’t know how to get to Tuscaloosa.”

     He pushes against the ground with his left hand, heaving himself upright for a moment before sinking to the ground again.

     I crouch next to him, pushing down the panicked adrenaline coursing through me. “Would it be easier to walk?”

     “Maybe.”

     I help him roll to his back, then push him into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll help you.”

     On his knees, he sways again, and I can see the dizziness swirling in his eyes. “No. This…is worse. Can’t see anything.”

     I lower him again, my hands shaking. “I’ll carry you.”

     “You can’t…do that. How far…are the buildings?”

     I get to my feet and squint toward the buildings. They look just as far away as before, though I know we must be closer. “Not bad.”

     “Give me a sec.” He closes his eyes and rests his head on the ground.

     I sit down next to him, yanking my bag from my shoulders. There must be something helpful in here. I push away the cans of food and extra flashlight, searching for something that looks medical. “What do you need?”

     He doesn’t answer.

CHAPTER SIX

“Aaron?” I grab his left hand and feel his wrist. The pulse is still there. I shove down my anxiety. People don’t die from gunshot wounds to the shoulder. At least, not that often. I edge the backpack off his shoulders and dig my hands into it, searching for something helpful. I find a roll of bandages, like I’d had on my ankle, a syringe, several small bottles, and a small notebook. It’s too dark to see what is inside the notebook, so I drop it and turn back to Aaron.

I can see the dark stain creeping out over the makeshift bandage of his shirt. Need to stop the bleeding. I place both hands on his shoulder and push down, trying to ignore the blood coating my fingers. Aaron doesn’t move, which both makes my task easier and worries me. If this doesn’t hurt enough to wake him up, maybe he’s lost too much blood already.

“Aaron,” I whisper, hoping that he’ll somehow hear me and help me figure out how to save him. “I’m not a doctor. I might accidentally kill you, or something.” I mean it as a joke, but the idea sends a shiver of fear through me.

I force myself to keep the pressure on his shoulder. “Isn’t there something about pushing until the bleeding stops? I can’t see when it does, though. My hands are in the way.” I pause, waiting. “You aren’t very helpful.”

I don’t know how long I crouch there. My fingers grow numb, and sweat trickles down my face. Every few minutes, a light appears above the city, and I suppose that Carmen assumes we’d doubled back into the limits, knowing that they’d hit Aaron and we couldn’t go far.

Eventually, the puddle of crimson doesn’t grow any further. I keep one hand against his shoulder and unroll the bandages with the other. His shirt is soaked, but I’m afraid to pull it away from the wound. I try instead to cut most of it away, but I can’t balance the knife against the cloth with one hand still pressing against him. I give up and grip the shirt in my other hand, slicing as fast as I can with the kitchen knife. When I’m done, a clump of the shirt is still stuck to the wound, hopefully keeping it from bleeding. I cut a length of bandage from the roll and start wrapping it around his shoulder, under his arm, and tucking it near his neck.

I sit back, trying to think of what to do next. The night air is cool against my hot cheeks, and I realize how cold Aaron must be. I stand up, trying to figure out the best way to get him across the last stretch of prairie to the storage buildings. Another beam from the searchlights appears, and I drop back down to my knees. When morning comes, there will be no way to stay hidden in this field.

I grab my bag and pull out the blankets we’d taken from the old store in Columbus. I drape one over Aaron, and arrange the other on the grass. “Okay,” I say to his still form. “I’m going to move you to this blanket. The ground is pretty smooth, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

I crouch at his feet and grab his ankles. Heaving backward, I manage to slide his body onto the blanket. I feel his shoulder, making sure the bandage is holding, then grasp two corners of the blanket. In about five minutes, my back is aching from the weight of both of the backpacks, and the difficulty of dragging a man through shoulder-high prairie grass. I drop the blanket and straighten, breathing hard. “New plan, Aaron. I’m going to drop our bags off in the buildings and see if I can flatten the grass. Don’t move.”

I flounder off into the prairie, doing my best to create a path for the blanket. After dumping my stuff in the first building I come across, I hurry back and take the corners again. “It’s not too far. We’ll make it.”

Several times during the trip, I let the blanket slump to the ground and go back to fluff up the grass we’d passed over. I don’t doubt that the planes above us will be able to see the clear line to the storage buildings in the daytime, and I have to hope they will stay away until I can make it all the way into a storage unit. At last, I reach the building where I’d put our bags, and manage to drag Aaron inside.

The smell of damp grass and old corn wafts through the building, but at least we are protected from the searchlights and cold. I sit next to Aaron, unable now to see his face in the darkness, but I can hear his heavy breathing. “Please,” I whisper. “Wake up soon.”

Before my arms give out in exhaustion, I tuck the blanket around his chin, and settle his head and bandaged shoulder into my lap. I lean back against the wall.

                        ~

 Aaron shifts and I open my eyes. Dust swirls in the bits of light from the door, and other than a pile of dead grass in one corner, the one-roomed building is empty. The ceiling is curved in a dome-shape, high above me. I tug the blanket from Aaron’s shoulder, afraid of what I might find. The bandage looks clean enough, though I can see a dark bruise edging around the cloth.

Aaron’s eyes flicker open and stare up at me.

“How do you feel?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just turns his head and looks around the room. “Where…where are we?”

“The storage place outside the city.”

“Oh.” His brow creases. “How’d we get here?”

“It wasn’t easy.” I straighten, slipping my hands under his head. “Do you mind if I move?”

“Okay.”

I scoot out from under him and let his head rest against the hay-strewn ground. “I moved you here a few hours ago. I didn’t know if…I mean, your shoulder…”

He twists his head. “You did that?”

“Yeah.” I frown. “You don’t have to sound so condescending. It was the best I could do.”

“No, it’s…fine. I’m sorry.”

I grab his bag and dump it out on the ground. “What’s in here that I can use?”

He pushes himself up against the wall, wincing. “That antibiotic press, but it would be difficult to do since you’ve already wrapped my shoulder.”

I toss it aside and notice the notebook. “Is this a medical advice journal, or something?”

“Um, no.” He leans forward and plucks it from my fingers. “It’s nothing. Is there some water I can have?”

“Yeah.” I take my bag and pull out of the bottles of water from the store, and help tip some into his mouth. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so.” Aaron fingers the bandage. “The bleeding appears to have stopped. But I guess I just lost enough to, uh, lose consciousness.”

“As a doctor, that wasn’t very smart.” I cross my arms and settle back on the dirty floor. “Why didn’t you tell me what to do before?”

“I didn’t think we’d have the time.”

“Well, instead I got to save you with no advice in the dark, outside, with the planes flying around.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He studies my face. “How are you?”

“I’m not the one who was shot.” I turn away from him.

     “You know what I mean.” When I don’t answer, he continues. “You know, I never asked if you remember anything about fighting in the war.”

     “I don’t think I do.”

     “What happened in the tunnel?”

     I shrug, not wanting to think about that. “Don’t really know. I guess I just don’t like enclosed spaces.”

     “That makes sense, after the accident in the war. I would think almost dying in a tunnel would make it harder to deal with now.”

     “Yeah.” I trace a finger through the dust, remembering the dream that had rushed back to me as we walked under the city. “Do you think it’s possible that I would remember bits and pieces?”

     Aaron leans his head back against the wall. “I’d think so, especially if something happened to trigger one of those memories. And your body will remember things you forget.”

     “That doesn’t make sense.”

     “Think of it like PTSD, except for your body. Though you might not deal with the effects of PTSD directly, since you don’t remember a lot of traumatic experiences, your body can still react in the same way.”

     Great. “So I can’t trust myself to stay calm in stressful situations, because I’ve had a rough life?”

     “Not exactly. But even someone like you can have a lot of trouble with things that used to be easy, like dealing with small spaces.”

     I look closely at him, but he doesn’t appear like he’s making fun of me. “How do you know all this stuff?”

     “I told you, I’m a doctor.”

     “Yeah, but how did you become one?”

     He stares down at his hands. “Lots of hard work. Can you pull out one of the painkillers from my bag? I’m going to sleep some more, if that’s okay.”

     “As long as you think we’re safe.” I hand him one of the pill bottles and our water.

     “I don’t know if we are, but I’m not sure I can move just yet.”

     I watch as he takes a pill, then settles back against the wall, closing his eyes. I wait until his breath evens, then reach over to take the little notebook off the ground at his side. I glance again at Aaron, then open the book.

                             ~

     “What are you doing?”

     I jump, the notebook flipping shut.

     “Is that mine?”

     “Why didn’t you tell me about Carmen?” I blurt.

     He rubs his face with one hand. “What about?”

     “Um, I don’t know, that you worked for them?”

     “Why were you poking around in my stuff?” He counters, glancing up at me, a frown etched over his lips.

     I can’t think of a response that would be an excuse he’d accept. “You—you didn’t really answer me about being a doctor, and with Carmen being a hospital and all…” I trail off as he glares at me. “I had the right to be suspicious,” I say, snatching away the notebook as Aaron reaches for it.

     He flops back against the wall and stares at me for a moment. “I didn’t want you to…mistrust me.”

     “Well, duh. Is that supposed to make me feel better about this?”

     “I didn’t think you’d understand—and I was right.”

     I look down at the book in my hands, the small card with Aaron’s face and name written above the Carmen insignia. “You’d better start explaining.”

     “What do you want me to say? That I used to work there, but have changed my ways? Will you believe me?” He reaches forward again, and this time, I let him pluck the notebook from my fingers. “I was just a doctor during the war, Ally. My knowledge of Carmen has let me help Flame in their work. If I’d wanted to betray you, I would have done so a long time ago.”

     I still wish he’d told me. “Why did you quit?”

     “I saw what they could do. After the tunnels collapsed, I was there when they wrote up the certificate of death.”

     “Did you…save my life? After the tunnels?”

     He massages his injured shoulder, staring up at the high ceiling. “I helped. It was a several person job.”

     I slump against our bags. “So…that’s why you volunteered to find me?”

     “Sort of. How much did you read in this?” Aaron riffles through the pages of his book.

     “Not much. I saw some Flame papers and stuff.” I’m starting to feel guilty, eavesdropping on his other life; as if he has no right for a past beyond what he’s told me. “I didn’t really think—I mean, when you were avoiding my questions—”

     “No, I’m sorry, I should have told you. I just wasn’t sure how’d you respond.”

     That makes me feel worse. “I guess I didn’t respond very well.”

     “Not particularly.”

I look up in time to catch his smile.

I return it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Do you feel better about traveling with me now?”

“As long as you don’t have any more secrets.” I mean it as a joke, but his smile fades. “What, do you?”

“Ally…”

“Yes?”

“I volunteered at Flame because I know you.”

I stare at him. “Know me…Allison Mire?”

“During your training, you got injured and were sent to the hospital. I met you there, when I’d been working there for almost a year.” He offers me another smile, this one tinged with sadness. “I was your friend, if you can believe that.”

My stomach twists.

“I didn’t realize how deep your memory loss went. I was a doctor, and I still somehow expected you to know me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Not your fault.” He gazes at the ground. “I tried not to be, you know, bitter, when I found you with Tristan. I thought…I don’t know.”

I try to think back, try to force my mind beyond the vague bursts of light from the explosion that ricochet in my head, but his face only reminds me of that night in my house. “I don’t remember,” I admit.

His shoulders sag. “I don’t expect you to.”

We sit in silent. I try to think of something to say that might ease whatever pain he’s feeling, but I can’t. I don’t know if who I am now reflects whoever Allison Mire was, or even if Aaron thinks of me as the same person. Either way, I can’t imagine how he managed to mask what he knew.

A thought hits me. “Do you…did you know Tristan, too?”

He glances at me. “No.”

“Oh.” I remember the day Tristan found me, after struggling on my own for weeks after awaking in that small town. He never asked any questions, which was gratifying at the time, but now I wonder what he thought of me. And why he cared.

I look back at Aaron, who’s tugging the blanket back up his bare chest. “I should get your shirt.”

“That would be nice. But it won’t be clean.”

I shrug. “You need to wear something. I’ll see if I can wash it off.”

As I move out the door, Aaron calls after me. “There will probably be a pump somewhere around here. You can use that.”

In the morning light, the dead grass looks almost golden, waving in the soft breeze. Despite my efforts the night before, I can still see the vague outline of our path, but I can only hope it looks more natural from above. Finding Aaron’s bloodied shirt back where he’d collapsed, I head back into the storage yard and start poking around the buildings.

There are about a half-dozen of them, almost all alike, with domed roofs and smooth, round walls. I pass several with huge lettering on the side, but they are so faded and chipped I can’t make out what they say. Maybe they’re in Gaelic, or something. The ones I peer into are empty, except for some wooden barrels and a few small piles of grass, or maybe wheat. I wonder how long they’ve been sitting like this, in the middle of the prairie, with the wind whistling through the doors.

When I find the water trough, it takes almost five minutes of constant pumping to get any water from the spigot on the side of the building. I clear out the dirt and grass, and lay the shirt under the spigot. With mostly clear water running over it, the stains look worse than they did in plain daylight. I force my hands into the pinkish water and scrub the fabric against the sides of the trough. I replace the water three times before my shoulders ache so much from pumping and scrubbing that I don’t care if Aaron has to wear a crimson stained green t-shirt for the rest of his life or not.

I hang the shirt over the edge of the trough and fill our bottles of water, then head back to the storage building. “Aaron?” I call, stepping into the building. Our bags lie on the floor where I left them, but Aaron is no longer slumped against the wall.

I crouch next to my pack, glancing around the room as I line the bottles inside the bag. “Are you here?”

Maybe he went out for a walk. That doesn’t seem too likely, but I can’t think of another good reason. Silence stretches around me as I sit back on my heels. Maybe he’s planning to jump out and scare me to get back at me for looking through his stuff. The idea makes me think of Tristan.

“Aaron, I—” I look toward the wall and notice a gleam of metal in a beam of light from the door. I step closer and see my kitchen knife, lying a yard from where I’d put it in my bag.

A dry crunch behind me, and I whirl too late.

A soldier materializes before me, his hands gripping a shotgun. “Now, don’t make any sudden—”

I drop to the ground, kicking out with my legs and knocking his feet out from under him. A bullet whistles through the air and sinks into the wall behind me. My hand is in my pocket in an instant, releasing the safety on my gun and pulling it out to aim the barrel at his head. Before I can squeeze the trigger, something slams into the back of my neck.

The ceiling spins in dizzying circles, and I fall on my hands, trying to grasp at the ground before it jerks sideways. I tip forward and fall into the dirt and grass strewn about the hard ground.

I hear Aaron yell from somewhere above me, but I can’t see anymore. I feel my arms being yanked behind my back, and I blink, trying to shove down the nausea rolling through my stomach. I pull my hands from my captor and roll onto my back, my head screaming in protest. I jerk my knee up and hit the soldier in the face. Blood sprays against the wood and grass, and he’s knocked backward next his companion.

I start to heave myself upright, but a thick hand grips my neck. I feel the fingers digging into my skin. Before I can jerk away, the fingers find the artery pulsing below my ear. My hands scramble through the grass as the fingers press down, but my breath is gone, the world whitens around the edges, and I can hardly tell which way is up. Just before I lose consciousness, I see Aaron’s dazed face, a jagged, bruised cut snaking up to his blonde hair.

CHAPTER SEVEN

     Each time my eyes and mind begin to clear, something digs its way beneath my skin and sends a cold liquid through my veins, and I lose my grip on the solid world around me once again. But now, sounds are starting to surface around me, and I feel the hard ground leeching a chill through my back. My head aches. I can feel the rough texture of rope sawing through the skin of my wrists. I keep my eyes shut, not wanting to give any hint that I am awake and ready for another dose of whatever it is.

     Aaron moans beside me.

     So much for that.

     “Hey,” I say, the word grating in my throat. I open my eyes and see the nasty cut along his face. “Are you okay?”

     His eyelids flutter, and he grimaces. “Fine. You?”

     I try to relieve the pressure on my bound hands by shifting to my right side. My head protests as I move. “Got a killer headache.” I glance along the bars forming a barrier around the small area. A length of chain is wrapped around one bar, a padlock dangling from the end. “Where…where are we?”

     Aaron turns his head to look around the bare room. “A cell, maybe, for prisoners of war.”

     I shove my throbbing hands against the hard, cold floor, pushing myself into a sitting position. “What war?”

     “The fourth, I’d guess.” He drags himself upright and slumps against the wall. He’s wearing the shirt I’d washed, which makes me wonder why the soldiers had cared to put it on. Maybe they’d seen the bandage and had some pity.

     A cot lies against the far wall, next to what might have been a decent toilet in its time, now cracked and rusty. Peeling blue paint dangles in strips from the walls, and the single bulb hanging from the ceiling is dark and cold, a piece missing from its glass exterior. Our bags, the supplies we’d collected in Columbus, are gone. No surprise there.

     “This place looks like it hasn’t been used in years.” I wrinkle my nose at the layer of grime on the floor.

     “Let’s hope it hasn’t. I’m sure it was in better shape during the war.”

     I start to answer, but a clang startles me into silence. Aaron and I turn to the wall of bars and meet the eyes of a guard strolling down the hall toward us.

     “You’re right,” he calls, gesturing at Aaron with his rifle. “These cells used to be a lot cleaner and nicer. Wouldn’t do for wounded soldiers to rot in their own hospital.”

     Aaron and I exchange glances.

     I lean forward, ignoring the pain in my head. “Their own hospital? You mean soldiers from United were kept here?”

     “Sometimes.” The guard slings the rifle back over his shoulder. “Prisoners of war, like your friend said. Ireland isn’t that inhumane. We take care of our enemies.”

     I look back at Aaron. We’re in Carmen.

     The guard straightens, brushing his fingers along a badge glinting on his uniform. “Since you’re awake now, I’ll go get some food and stuff. Don’t die ‘til I get back.” He saunters away, whistling between his teeth.

     As soon as he rounds the corner at the end of the hall, Aaron sits up, sliding his hands up the wall. “Think you can stand?”

     “Why would he want to feed us?” I get up, leaning on the wall for support as the world tips to one side. “Ungh.”

     “They don’t want you to die, at least not yet.” He steps toward me. “If you can get my hands untied—”

     I push away from the damp wall and turn around. We stand back to back, Aaron facing the barred door, watching for our guard, me fumbling with the ropes looping over his hands.

     “They didn’t try very hard,” I remark, yanking at the knots. “It’s almost like they’re testing—”

     “He’s coming back,” Aaron hisses.

     I drag the last bit of rope from his wrists and sink to the floor as our guard approaches the cell.

     “Don’t have any food, you two, but I got some medicine things for your injuries. Come over here.” He gestures to Aaron.

     Aaron, his hands still held behind his back, takes one step forward. “What kind of medicine?”

     “Dunno. It’s for your cut.” The guard holds up a tube and unscrews the top. “We’re a hospital, my friend. It’s not going to kill you.”

     I can see Aaron’s hands curl into fists, but the cut must really be bothering him, because he allows the guard to squeeze his hands between the bars and dab the goo from the tube onto Aaron’s face.

     The guard starts to pull away, but Aaron’s hand snakes up and grabs his arm.

     “Hey, what’re you—”

     Aaron yanks the arm forward, and the guard hits the bars with a crack. I gape as he slides to the floor, eyes rolled up in his head.

     Aaron’s face is white from the simple effort, and he’s breathing hard. Yellowish paste from the medicine hardens on his cheek. “Give me your hands.”

     I turn around, and Aaron unties the knots and tosses the rope to the floor. I crouch next to the bars and reach through to the guard’s unconscious body for the loop of keys hooked on his belt. I hand the keys to Aaron, who stretches his arm through the bar and fiddles with the padlock, trying to stick the first key in the hole. After the fourth attempt, the padlock clicks open, and he shoves the cell door aside, which collides with the guard.

     I start down the hall, but Aaron calls me back. “There might be something for you, too.”

     I tug up the hood of my jacket over my hair, and pull on the sides to conceal my face as much as possible. I wait, drumming my fingers on the damp walls and glancing up and down the halls, as Aaron digs through the guard’s pockets.

     “Here it is.” He holds up a capsule, then unclips the guard’s utility belt and tosses me the pistol.

     “How do you know that isn’t poison, or something?” I squint at the pill.

     “I’m a doctor, remember?”

     “Double check, please.”

     Aaron unscrews the capsule and dips his fingers into the tan colored powder, then taps it to his tongue. “Safe.”

     I pluck the pill from his hand and toss it into my mouth. “Let’s go.”

     My headache is fading by the time we leave the rows of cells behind us and creep through the cement hallways. Rusting pipes snake along the low ceiling, and the dank smell reminds me of the tunnels under Columbus. The thought doesn’t help me feel any calmer. As we round another corner, I hear voices echoing on the stone walls. My hand flies to my pocket, where the guard’s pistol nestles, and I meet Aaron’s eyes.

     He jerks his head toward a darkened doorway, and I slip inside, blinking as my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Several boxes line the perimeter of the room. Aaron slides the door shut, and we’re shut in darkness.

     “Is there a flashlight on that belt?” I whisper.

     Aaron fumbles in the dark, drops something on the hard floor, clicks on a light.

     He shines it in my face, and I wince. “Bring it over here.” I take it from him and slide the light over the labels of the boxes, hoping to find something useful to replace our missing packs. Most read “Kitchen” or nothing at all. I flip open the first one.

     “What are you looking for?” Aaron glances at the door, hands fidgeting with the belt.

     I shrug and riffle through the box’s contents. “We have a belt, a gun, and a flashlight. We’re a little outnumbered in supplies and people.” I shove the first box aside and begin searching the second.

     “We could always get the rifle from the guard.” Aaron leans against the door for an instant, then jumps back. “They’re coming.”

     I click off the light, praying the guards will be too busy to search random supply closets.

     The soldiers clump past, talking in loud voices. They are talking something about supper, so I can assume no one has discovered the unconscious guard yet.

     I turn on the flashlight again and shine it into a third box. “That would be wonderful,” I say in answer to his suggestion. “If you’d thought of it before the guards headed his way.”

     I’m rewarded by a glint of metal in the next box. I hold up a knife. “Ready.”

     “What’s with you and kitchen knives?” Aaron turns the knob and peers out into the stone hall. “Clear.”

     We slip out, and I press the pistol in Aaron’s hands. “Any idea how to get out of here?”

     “Kind of.” He creeps down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at me every few steps. After a minute, he stops and points to a door on our left. “Stairs.”

     I push open the door. Light flickers from bare bulbs protruding from slots in the walls, and the metal stairs are grimy with boot smudges. The handrail is clear of dust. “It’s used too often.” I look back at Aaron.

     “We can’t go further down the hall,” he says. “There’s a guard room ahead.”

     I shrug. “Okay. Keep that gun handy.”

     We start up the stairs, our feet clunking on the metal plating. As we pass the third landing, my head begins to hurt again, and Aaron’s face is pasty in the glare of the bulbs. I notice he’s gripping his bandaged shoulder.

     A clang rings from above, and we freeze, staring at each other.

     “Back down,” Aaron whispers, his knuckles white from clenching the pistol.

     I turn and go as fast as I dare back the way we came, the scuffle of boots following behind us. I reach the closest landing and push open the door, coming into a new cement corridor, looking almost as bare as the basement.

     “Hey, you! Stop!”

     Aaron shoves me forward as a shot rings out behind us. I duck, twisting sideways to avoid the soldier’s bullet, and Aaron yanks the landing door shut, blocking the angry yells from the guard.

     I race down the hall, Aaron following close behind. The cement walls stretch before us, no rooms or places to hide as another shout echoes through the halls. I skid around a corner, my heart pulsing in my chest. Spotting a new hall, I duck into it. Crates are stacked against the walls, water dripping from leaky pipes snaking the ceiling.

     I hit the floor as a bullet rings against the cement walls, Aaron dropping beside me. His eyes meet mine for an instant.

     “If anyone comes, shoot them.” I gesture at the hall we came through and start crawling toward the crates stacked by the corner.

     Aaron’s pistol goes off, and I flatten against the wall. I can hear someone moving around the corner, shouting commands at someone I can’t see or hear. “—Near the perimeter. Close in, and keep your head down. They may be armed.”

     A crackling voice answers. Good. The guard is communicating over radio. With any luck, he’ll be alone. I glance back at Aaron, who gives me a sickly smile and points to something I can’t see around the crates. I assume it’s the soldier who followed us from the staircase.

     I crouch, holding my knife ready. As the soldier with the radio rounds the corner, I grab his ankle and yank him toward the walls. His head slams against the cement, and he slides to the floor.

     I twirl the unused knife and look back for Aaron, but he’s already next to me, unclipping the hand gun from the motionless guard and slipping it into my hand.

     “Did you get him?” I ask.

     “He’s not dead.” Aaron looks at the knife in my other hand. “Can I have that? I’m a doctor; I’m better at cutting.”

     I wince, but hand him the knife. “What now?”

     He shrugs, peering down the darkened corridor on either side and fingering my knife.

     I lower my voice. “I’ve been thinking; we’ve made it this far—”

     “Got dragged this far, you mean.”

     I shrug. “Yes, but I wonder…we might do some scouting. See what they’re planning. Maybe we can find some records or something that could prove what Flame wants to claim.”

     “That’s a terrible idea.”

     I feel a little indignant. “Isn’t that what you are for? Helping Flame?”

     “Yes, but not with you around. You could get hurt.”

     I roll my eyes. “It’s a bit late for that. Besides, Flame’s going to boss me around eventually. We can start now, and maybe they’ll agree to let me go after…whatever I’m supposed to do.”

     “I hate this plan.”

     “Acknowledged.”

     He sighs. “Fine. But we leave as soon as we see a way to get out.”

     “Fair enough.” I lead the way down the hall, straining to hear past the drip-drip of water from the pipes along the ceiling. After a few minutes, I stop. “Something’s wrong. Where are the soldiers?”

     Aaron glances behind us. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve ventured far out of the way. This should be a main hall down here.”

I look back the way we came, studying the blackened walls and dirty floor.

     “Come on, Ally.” Aaron takes my arm. “Let’s hope they’re slow. We can’t stay here.”

     I walk beside him, fingering the trigger of my pistol. The pipes drip, splattering water on the dirt-ridden floor. Our footsteps echo through the hall. I try not to think of the stunned guard we left by the crates. He may be awake by now, calling down their troops to entrap us. I glance behind us, peer into each doorway, start at every noise the pipes make above us. The back of my neck tingles.

     “Wait.”

     I jump, dropping my pistol and whacking my head against a low-hanging pipe. The thick cloth hanging over my forehead protects it from the metal, but it still sends a pain through my temples.

     Aaron frowns at me. “Shhh. Do you see that?”

     I pick up my gun, my cheeks hot, and see what he noticed. There’s a light up ahead, just beyond another curve in the endless basement tunnels. “You think it’s safe?” I try to shake off my embarrassment.

     “I doubt it.”

     “Let’s go.” I hold my pistol in front of me, creeping next to the damp walls. The silence grates in my ear, and I realize the pipes have stopped their dripping. We must be entering a more inhabited part of the basements.

The light doesn’t seem to get any brighter as we approach. It flickers every few seconds and sends a dim glow down the hall.

We halt just before the turn. I don’t want to alert whatever might be beyond that curve, so I just meet Aaron’s eyes, hoping he has an idea.

He shakes his head, mouthing No with such energy I can’t misinterpret his meaning.

We have to, I say silently.

No. His eyes are full of warning.

I hold up my gun to show him I am hardly defenseless, and gesture to his knife. You say you can cut real good, I mouth. Now’s the time to prove it. I doubt he can understand me, but I don’t wait to find out. I take a breath and inch around the corner, my pistol gripped in my fingers. The light is flickering from a room with no door. I peer into the dim light and see a head and shoulders, hair collected in a tight ponytail. She is seated at a low desk, head bent over some papers spread across the surface.

I raise my gun and charge into the room, bringing the butt of the pistol crashing on the clueless girl’s head. I hear an uneven gasp for breath and realize too late that there is someone else in the room. I spin around, trying to bring the gun up to protect myself. I catch a glimpse of Aaron’s stunned face before I collapse under the weight of a tall man. I twist in his arms, trying to bring up my knee to hit his stomach. The man forces my leg down and shackles my arms to the ground under his steely fingers. My hood falls loose from my hair in the struggle, and I hear a gasp.

“A-Ally?”

I look up into the face of Tristan Ardell.

CHAPTER EIGHT

     I lay there, staring into his blue eyes. “Tris…?”

     “What are you doing here?”

     My thoughts are whirling, unable to create an intelligible sentence. “I thought—you, you were shot…Carmen?”

     I see Aaron’s face over Tristan’s shoulder, fury in his eyes. He yanks Tristan off of me.

     I accept Tristan’s hand and get to my feet, swaying a little. “Carmen took you? Why?”

     Tristan glances at Aaron, then back at me. “I can explain.”

     “You’d better.” Aaron takes my arm and leads me to the chair where the hapless girl had sat before I knocked her to the floor. “Why are you alive?”

     “Sheesh, you don’t think I deserve to be, or something? Why are both of you here?”

     “Got caught.” Aaron crosses his arms. “And you?”

     Tristan shoots me a worried glance. “Nova, I had no idea what you’d have to deal with once…um…I lost you both in Columbus.”

     “He’s not usually like this.” I press my fingers to my temples. “Aaron?”

     “I’m just a little concerned.” Aaron’s eyes flicker to Tristan. “So. You work for Carmen, huh.”

     Tristan makes an annoyed snort. “And I suppose you do too, since we are making ridiculous assumptions based on…oh, nothing.”

     “Besides finding you in their basement with one of their employees?”

     “Back at you. Uh, minus the employee.”

     Aaron takes a threatening step forward, brandishing the kitchen knife. “You tackled Allison.”

     “Before I knew who she was! And she knocked out my accomplice!”

     I raise my hand. “Guys, stop.” They both look at me. “This is stupid. I’m sorry about the girl, Tris, but Aaron and I—”

     “Don’t tell him anything,” Aaron warns. “We don’t know—”

     “I know,” I counter. “And besides, basically all I know about…Carmen, Flame, et cetera, Tristan knows, too. You told him. What’s so different now?”

     “He’s dressed as a high-ranking officer.”

     That stops me. Tristan is in a gray wool suit, a Carmen badge sewn on the breast.

     “Now hold on,” Tristan protests. “I told you I’d explain.” He turns to me, grabbing my hand. “Ally, Carmen believes I am working for them.”

     I pull away. “What now?”

     “They—they commissioned me to keep an eye on you. After the war.”

     I gape at him. “You knew about that?”

     He looks down. “Yeah.”

     “What the Nova, Tris! Why did…they shot you, right? Or was that an act, too?”

     “No! That was real. I betrayed them. I didn’t report back, and so they had no idea where to start when word got out about Flame. They needed you back, and I was supposed to provide the information to track you down, but…this happened instead.”

     I step away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is everyone working for Carmen now?”

     “Everyone?” Tristan glances at Aaron, who glares back, not saying anything. “Um, well, I…you didn’t know anything. If I’d told you, would you have believed me? Or trusted me?”

     I resist the urge to stamp my foot, or any other display of childishness. “Stars, why is everyone so worried about what I might think? I want the truth, not protection from it!” I spin away, struggling to collect myself.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that.”

     Aaron breaks in. “Okay, maybe we can accept that, Ardell, but why are you here? They trust you now?”

     “They’re letting me prove myself,” he says in a low voice. “I’m on a thin line right now, but I have, you know, good credentials and stuff.”

     “After you disappeared for two years?”

     “It’s complicated.”

     “I’m sure it is.”

     “So what now?” I sink back into the chair, staring down at the unconscious girl.

     “We leave. Quickly. Preferably without him setting an alarm.”

     “I’m not going to raise the alarm,” Tristan mutters. “I told you, Carmen only believes I’m loyal now. I don’t want Ally to be locked up any more than she does.”

     “Fine, but you can’t come with us. That might look bad to Carmen.” Aaron looks at me, like he’s daring me to disagree.

     Tristan curses. “I’m only here because I thought I could help Ally from behind the lines. Now’s the time to do that.”

     Aaron grits his teeth and turns to me. “Ally?”

     “I—I don’t know. Tris, why did you betray Carmen in the first place?”

     “I didn’t plan to. But when I found you, I realized how stupid this whole thing was. They are willing to ruin your life to protect their behinds.” He pauses, studying my face. “You didn’t deserve that.”

     I look back at Aaron. “I trusted you, even after you told me everything.”

     Aaron studies Tristan, his face blank. “It’s your choice.”

     Great. I take a breath and glance at the door. “Soldiers could be here any minute. Do you know how to get out of here, Tris?”

     He nods. “There’s a tunnel in this room.” He shoves the desk from the wall, and points to a wooden panel. “Leads upstairs. I don’t know how you’d get out from there, but—”

     “That’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”

     Aaron steps forward and pries the wood from the wall, revealing a dank tunnel big enough to worm through. “Will you be okay, Ally?”

     I hesitate, staring into the dark, narrow space. “I’m—I’m fine.”

     A hundred footfalls echo from the halls, filling the small room.

     “The guards,” Aaron hisses. “We’ve stayed too long.”

Tristan touches my shoulder. “I’ll go up the long way. It will look less suspicious, then if I appear dirty from the tunnel. I can get us out then.”

“Are you sure they won’t suspect you?” I grab his hand.

“I’ll be fine.” He cracks a grin. “I can’t leave Jayla like that, anyway.” He gestures at the girl on the ground. “And someone needs to put the panel back on.”

I swallow. “See you in a bit, then.” I push Aaron out of the way. “I’ll go first.” So nothing strange will be behind me in the dark. I crawl into the tunnel, blinking my eyes to adjust to the pitch darkness.

“Good luck, Ally.” Tristan’s voice comes muffled from behind.

Then Aaron comes after me, and the plywood slides back over the entrance, leaving us alone in the suffocating space.

“Ally.” Aaron touches my leg, the only part of me he can reach. “You okay?”

Panic closes my throat. I can almost feel the dirt stones raining from above in the other tunnel, where the first Allison died. “I—”

Frantic thumps from the plywood covering our tunnel. Tristan must be able to hear us.

I try to shake away the claustrophobia threatening to paralyze me, and shuffle forward as fast as I can, groping with my hands at the cement and dirt of the ground in front of me.

After five minutes of crawling through the dark, Aaron deems it safe to speak. “Can you see anything up there?”

“No.” My hand fumbles across something sharp and cold. “There’s glass on the floor.”

I hear a muffled curse behind me. “Found some in my palm.”

Perfect. I stop moving, delicately tracing over the splinters of glass across the tunnel ground, trying to find a safe place to cross. The tunnel is so narrow, I doubt I’ll have room to move around it.

“Pull your sleeves over your hands. And don’t put too much weight on them.” I hear Aaron shuffling in the dark.

“Where should I put my weight, then?” I hiss, trying to yank my jacket sleeves down. “On my knees, so they can get impaled, too?”

“Why are you snapping at me? You said you’d be fine.”

I grind my teeth. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Aaron starts to squeeze past me, and I shove him back.

“No, you’re supposed to guard my back.”

I pull my feet under me into a hunched-over crouch in the low tunnel and feel over the glass, searching for a safe spot to place my palms. When I find a bare spot of ground, I shift my weight to that hand, picking up my feet and placing them on the broken glass, which crackles under my boots. In a few minutes, my legs are shaking with fatigue, and I can hear the sharp intake of breath every few moments when Aaron gets another pieces of glass in his hand.

I don’t know how long it is, or how many glass patches we’ve picked through before Aaron says, “Look left.”

I turn my head and notice a faint glow of light down a different tunnel that I hadn’t seen before.

“Think it’s safe?” Aaron asks, but I’m already moving down the new tunnel, anxious to be out of the suffocating space.

We stop several yards from the light, which looks as if it is seeping from the cracks of another door, similar to the one where we left Tristan. I turn to Aaron, whose face is dimly lit by the glow. “Should we…?”

“It’s either that or go back down the other way,” Aaron says.

“Let me get my gun ready.”

“Please do.” Aaron brandishes his kitchen knife.

“Just don’t impale me from behind,” I request and scoot forward to the door. I’m worried that it might not be possible to get the thing open from the inside, but one hit from the butt of my pistol cracks it open, and the wood falls away.

The light is blinding.

I hold out my pistol and try to look threatening to whatever is beyond my blinking, watering eyes. When my vision clears, I face an empty broom closet, with the door half open to let in light from a hall. I clamber from the hole in the wall, trying to see if a mob of angry guards are thundering toward us, but the hall is silent.

Aaron scrambles out behind me, and I turn, raising my eyebrows in a silent question. He moves past me and pulls the door shut.

“Well.” He appraises me. “You have blood on your face.”

“What kind of comment is that?” I glare at him. “So do you. And all over your shirt.”

“From the glass, I guess. I don’t remember rubbing my face.”

I roll my eyes and turn away, inspecting the room, which is just as empty as it was a second ago. “What now?”

“Well, we could go back through the tunnel and find someplace else. Closer to an exit.”

I shudder. “No.”

“Fine. What would you like to do?”

I consider. “Get some disguises. Think all the guards and officers will have my face memorized?”

“No, but where are we going to get disguises?”

I crack the door open and peek down the hall. “I see someone about your size.”

He stares at me. “You want to kill some guards for their clothes?”

“Nova, no. We can knock them out.”

“I guess we can put them in the tunnel to buy us more time.”

I shrug and take another look through the crack. “Your clothes are getting away.”

Aaron curses. “I hate your ideas.” I open the door wider, and he slips past me, gripping his knife.

I wait for him in the closet, rubbing my sleeve over my face in an attempt to wipe away the blood. When he returns, dragging the unconscious man by the arms, I help him squeeze through the door again.

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t know. All the doors were shut, but I’m sure there are security cameras around here.”

“Nothing we can do about that.” I scratch at my cheeks with my fingernails and rub the sleeve over my face again.

“What are you doing?” Aaron unbuttons the guard’s coat.

“I don’t want to walk around in a uniform with blood all over my face.”

He cracks a grin. “I was kidding, Ally.”

I stop and glare at him.

“Do I really have blood on my face?” He slips the guard’s arms out of the sleeves.

I pause. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He pulls the coat over his dirty white shirt and begins to work on the starched pants of his unconscious enemy. “What will you wear?”

I glance through the crack. “Her outfit.”

                             ~

I feel strange in the stiff coat and pants of the Carmen guard. My guard’s clothes are too big, so I leave on my jacket to fill in the drooping cloth. Aaron stalks beside me, looking for all the stars like another regular guard. It is disturbing how well he plays the part of a Carmen employee—though I suppose he’s had practice.

“Loosen up, Ally,” Aaron says out of the corner of his mouth. “You look like a mannequin.”

“Aren’t guards all imposing and stuff?” I try to stretch my legs to stay up with him.

“Not like they’re made of plaster.”

I try to relax my shoulders under the starched coat, allowing my arms to swing at my sides. We turn the corner, and I stiffen again. The next hall is full of milling Carmen employees. A few wear identical uniforms to Aaron and me, but most are in the gray wool similar to Tristan’s, or as regular citizens. I catch a glimpse of a poster along one wall, advertising a mandatory meeting in Room 81A, and a free distribution of simple medications for all supporters of Carmen.

Aaron drifts from my side. I know that it will seem strange to see two guards walking together like pals, but it still makes me nervous. A few people cut between us, and I am pushed further away, struggling to see him again, to walk quickly, to act natural. I press between two fat men in expensive suits, who ignore me, and three pressed and powdered ladies, who look like they stepped of a fashion plate made for deathly skinny women.

I start to feel claustrophobic again in this narrow hall, and I move to one side, trying to find the wall. Instead, I find that the crowd has shuffled me into a high-ceilinged room, with chandeliers made of crystals and jewels that sparkle in the light. I turn around, trying to muscle my way back to the door, but the entrance is gone, replaced with myriads of people. I don’t see a single guard among them. Only me, one very new and very confused pretend employee.

Someone grabs my arm. I turn my head and look at Tristan, whose carefully gelled hair is now cascading in waves down his forehead. “What the Nova are you doing here? And where’s Aaron?”

“I don’t know.” I grip his sleeve. “Get me out of here.”

“Will do.” He leads me through the crowd, which thins as we near the door. I spot Aaron looking puzzled in the hall, craning his neck to look over the people.

When he sees us, he surges forward and grabs my shoulders. “There you are! I was afraid…” He trails off, noticing Tristan. “Got away, I see?”

Tristan smiles in greeting. “Glad you made it through the tunnel. Now, let’s go. Quick.”

“Did the guards—”

“They believed me. At least, they will before they find the bodies of those people you conked out. Nice outfits, by the way.”

“How’d you know about that?” I keep my hold on Tristan’s sleeve as he hurries us down the hall.

“The cameras are everywhere, darlin’. I think I managed to distract them in the control room while you were busy knocking them out. But there are plenty of recordings.

 “A lot of people will recognize me as we’re leaving. Just stick close and pretend to be my bodyguards.” Tristan turns a corner and swipes his card on a door.

“Why would you need bodyguards?” I glance at Aaron, who is making a sour face like someone doused him in citric acid.

“I wouldn’t. Don’t think anyone will notice, though.” Tristan steps through the elevator door. “This leads to the main floor, where we can get out.”

Aaron hesitates, but I push him forward. The doors slide shut. “What about the girl?” Aaron asks.

“Jayla? I told the guards she wasn’t feeling well and was taking a nap.”

“And they believed you?” I picture the girl sprawled on the hard cement floor.

Tristan grins. “I put her in the chair, with her head on her arms.”

I must have hit her harder than I’d thought.

The elevator dings and comes to a halt. We wait for the doors to open, but it begins to rise again. I raise an eyebrow at Tristan, who frowns and glances up at the display above the door. “Someone’s trying to use the elevator.” He swipes his card on the lock. “Which means bad news. No one is supposed to use this one unless—”

Alarms blare from the elevator speakers. Aaron lurches toward the key pad and holds his finger on the GROUND FLOOR  button. “Quick,” he hisses at Tristan. “Can you override whoever’s calling this thing?”

“I’m not that important.”

“Great.” The elevator slides upward. “Whoever is using this elevator—”

“—knows what’s up. They’ll be watching for me, and probably you two.” Tristan bites his lip.

Aaron pushes me from the door. “Ardell, keep swiping your card, or whatever might stall this thing. Ally, hold onto the wall supports.”

“What are you going to do?” I wrap my fingers around the bar attached to the walls of the elevator.

Aaron shoves his fingers in the crack of the door and begins to slide the metal door apart. The elevator dings in alarm and shudders to a halt.

I realize Aaron’s intent. “Aaron, when this elevator goes down again—”

“I know. Come on.” Aaron reaches back with one hand, still forcing the doors apart. I step across the floor and grab his arm. “There are plenty of handholds on the walls.”

I nod and lean out of the doorway, grasping the bars with both hands. I glance down, toward the faraway bottom of the shaft. Thick chords stretch from the elevator to the ground, and the walls are so close together, I have to plaster myself against the metal to inch from the elevator. I readjust my hold on the metal and begin edge my way down toward the door of the ground floor.

I hear a clang of metal and look up to see Tristan hanging above me, his blue eyes wide in his pale face. He gives me a faint smile.

“Hurry!” Aaron calls, reaching out from the elevator to grab the bars himself.

Just like climbing a ladder. Except a heavy metal box might slide along and scrap me off the walls. Hand over hand, I scramble down the side of the shaft. Two feet from the exit, a screech of metal chords echo from above. The elevator has made its stop.

I land on the narrow strip of floor by the smooth walls of our exit, Tristan scrambling down beside me. “Come on.”

I dig my fingers in the thin crack between the sliding door and the wall and try to force the door open, Tristan working just above my head.

Aaron jumps down beside us, pulling the kitchen knife from his pocket, and forces it into the crack.

The elevator gives a cheery ding as the doors close above us. It begins its decent.

Sweat trickles down my forehead, and the knife blade snaps from pressure just as a hand-sized space appears. Aaron shoves his shoulder through the crack and hisses with pain.

The bullet wound, I realize. “Are you—”

“Go, go!” He forces the door wider, and Tristan and I squeeze through.

CHAPTER NINE

     We stumble into a lobby, tall windows stretching from floor to ceiling, and glass doors line one side of the room. Random personnel and civilians run about as the alarms continue to blare.

     “They’re probably beginning a lock-down,” Tristan yells above the noise.

     “Where to?” Aaron grips his shoulder.

     I spot a narrow hallway on one side, a small sign with EXIT glowing on it in red lettering over a door at the end of the hall. “There!”

     Tristan shoves some people in white lab coats aside and dashes toward the exit.

     “Ardell!” I turn my head as an officer runs toward us, his hand on his hip. “Stop right where you are, and—” he stumbles as Aaron’s fist hits his face.

     “Don’t stop!” Aaron knocks the officer down with another punch and snatches the gun from his holster.

     I dash after Tristan, who yanks on the door and dives through. Aaron joins us in the little stone pavilion outside, flowers waving in the breeze. A high fence surrounds the pruned bushes and bunches of flowers growing in small plots around the pavilion. “What’s with these doctors and their fences?” I complain.

     “So dementia patients don’t get out.” Aaron points toward a tree whose branches slump over the top of the fence. “There.”

     Tristan grabs my arm and helps me to the lowest branch. I scramble farther up the tree, aiming toward the branches leaning over the fence. I edge along a thick one and slide through the leaves to the ground, tucking into a roll at the bottom. Tristan and Aaron land beside me.

     I dash along the fence toward a road curling through a pretty, pruned forest with no undergrowth to hide us. “Is there some extra security around here?”

     “Around the peri—augh!” Tristan trips. “Stupid rocks!”

     “You need clearance to get beyond the perimeter,” Aaron finishes, dodging between two trees. “Ardell?”

     “My card might still work,” Tristan mutters. “Unfortunately, I got caught tangling with a few criminals breaking out of headquarters.” He skids to a halt, Aaron and I almost running in to him from behind. “There’re some sheds back that way.” He gestures toward a thicker line of trees on my left. “We can—”

     “Down!” Aaron tackles me as something whizzes above our heads and crashes into the tree behind us, making a disgruntled buzzing in the bark.

     “Taser.” Tristan is lying next to us. “Better go now.”

     I twist under Aaron, who rolls away and peers through the trees. “It may be a little late.”

     I look up. The dark uniforms of soldiers are moving toward us in a unified mass. I can see flashing lights from both sides.

     “You have a gun?” Tristan crawls toward me, though I doubt any stealth can hide us now.

     I fumble under the dirty uniform. “Yeah. But against all those…?”

     “Me too.” Aaron cocks the pistol taken from the guard in the lobby.

     “Shoot and run?” Tristan holds up his own.

     “I’ll cover you. You and Ally run for those sheds,” Aaron says. “We can lose them there, and head to Moira. I’ll have to contact Flame—”

     “No way,” Tristan protests. “You and Ally. I’m a decent shot.”

     “We all are.” I get to my knees, only to fall on my face again as another Taser whips through the trees. “We’re also kind of stuck.”

     “How about just run?” Tristan rolls away behind a tree and gets to his feet. “Now.”

     Aaron lifts his arm and sends a bullet in the soldiers’ direction, while I scramble to my feet and dash toward the trees growing more closely together, hoping to get where the lower branches will conceal me. The soldiers shout and raise their guns, and I duck behind another tree, but no bullets whiz toward me.

     “I’m the bait,” I gasp, taking another guard down with my pistol. “They want me alive.”

     Aaron looks at me wide-eyed. “Ally—”

     “Go!” Tristan gestures wildly with his gun. “Your turn, Gerick!”

     Aaron jumps to his feet and runs toward the sheds, as I send bullets reigning on the uniforms bearing down from all directions.

     “I’ll cover you,” I say to Tristan and jump in front of him. My plan is crazy, yes, but they don’t want to kill me. I hope. Maybe they won’t shoot at Tristan and Aaron if they have a chance at hitting me. I do need to avoid the Tasers, though.

     Tristan, after one look at me, doesn’t argue. He fires once more, then sprints through the trees after Aaron, leaving me alone in the woods with dozens of guards running at me.

     I roll under a bush and aim through the branches at my pursuers, taking them down one my one. Even if my mind can’t remember my days as a soldier, my body does. The gun feels natural and steady in my hands.

     But they are still closing in.

     I hope Aaron and Tristan can work together for the next few minutes, while I attempt my escape.

     My bush is leaning against a pine tree, the branches low enough for me to grasp, and the needles fanning out thick and green. It may hide me, if I can get into it.

     I need a distraction.

     The soldiers are slowing down, moving with care between the trees. Scared of me, I realize. I could be hiding anywhere. I stick the warm pistol in my pocket again and try not to crackle the branches and leaves of my bush.

     What now? I can wait until all the guards move past me, but they will probably leave a few behind, and the rest might catch Aaron and Tristan before I can help.

     I grit my teeth and push myself onto my knees, grimacing at the noise. I peer above the bush, sweeping my eyes through the trees and trying not to move more than necessary. I can see at least three soldiers from where I’m crouching, and I can hear more shouting orders and clumping through the dried leaves. I glance up at the pine tree. All I need is a few seconds, and I can be hiding in all that greenery.

     “Squad eighteen, stay here and track down the girl. The rest, follow me,” someone shouts above the hubbub of everything else. They scramble to do the person’s biding, some disappearing through the trees, some dispersing through the surrounding area.

     I wait, trying to quiet my breathing, as the forest around descends again into silence. I don’t know how many soldiers are still around, waiting for me to emerge. I can still see the three from where I’m crouching, but I don’t dare shooting, with no chaos to hide my positioning from them. My legs are shaking from fatigue, and a trickle of sweat traces across my face and drips to my collar. I don’t move.

I peer through the foliage and raise my gun. The shot echoes through the trees, and I burst through the bush, dropping to one knee and scanning my surroundings for threats.

     Nothing.

     I consider climbing my tree, but as Tristan has led the guards to more than a few seconds of distraction, I decide to follow the rest from behind instead. I scramble to my feet and check my pistol. Only a few bullets remain, so I jog to one of the fallen soldiers and snatch their gun and a knife. Then I turn to the trampled path left by the soldiers, and run through the trees.

                                  ~

     I crouch behind a thick tree trunk, eying the milling soldiers as they poke around the old wooden sheds and stone pits.

     “You think the girl would stop and hide here?” One of the soldiers lifts a crushed piece of wood and looks down into a cellar.

     “Or one of the others.” A man with awards pinned to his chest glowers at the searchers. “Keep looking.”

     Someone touches my shoulder. I twist, bringing my elbow up to smash into his face, but stop as I recognize Tristan’s tousled brown hair. He doesn’t look at me, just scans the old sheds. “We need to go.”

     I glance through the trees. “Fine. Where’s Aaron?”

     “He’s okay. Come on, it’s not safe to talk here.”

     I let him help me to my feet and glance to my right.

     A guard stares at me, his mouth opening.

     I curse and whip my pistol up, firing before the man can sound the alarm. But I’ve sounded my own. The noise around our hiding place subsides as the shot echoes against the stone and wooden walls.

     “Tree,” Tristan whispers, shoving me toward the branches. “Climb.”

     I grasp a branch and heave myself into the tree, scrambling through the leaves, Tristan following behind. Another shot rings through the trees, and I glance down.

     Aaron stands beneath our tree, pistol raised, his stolen uniform mudded and shredded. “Not one step closer!” He shouts at the assembling guards.

     Tristan pushes my foot. “Go. He’s giving us time.”

     The leaves obscure my sight as I peer down, trying to see Aaron, trying to tell him to run and abandon us.

     “Ally,” Tristan hisses, but I barely hear him.

     Aaron takes a step backward as the soldiers raise their guns. He yanks back on the trigger, but a dry click answers him. He drops the pistol and pulls my kitchen knife from his pocket, crouching in a fighter’s stance.

     The man with medals adorning his jacket waves his hand at the soldiers, and Aaron leaps forward, plunging his knife in the shoulder of the nearest guard and knocking another to the ground. As he’s spinning to attack another, the knife is wrenched from his fingers, and he is clubbed from behind.

     A scream tears at my throat, but Tristan’s fingers slap over my mouth before it can escape. I watch, horror twisting in my stomach, as Aaron slumps to the forest floor, his brown eyes dazed with pain. A soldiers yanks him to his knees, pulling his arms behind him and tying them with a length of rope.

     My fingers ache with their grip on my own pistol. I could take some out now. Shoot the man with that haughty smile and glittering medals. The soldier now tying a piece of cloth over Aaron’s mouth. Before I can try, Tristan fingers slip into mine, giving both comfort and preventing me from trying anything stupid.

     The man in charge is waving his arms, giving orders to send out a few search parties, but not too many. I’m probably long gone, and they have a prize for now.

     Aaron is hauled to his feet, swaying as two men grab his shoulders. He lifts his head and sees me in the tree, tears frozen on my face. Aaron locks his eyes on mine. I can almost hear his voice telling me it’s all a dream, all some recurring nightmare, and the aching pulse slowly creeping from my shoulder is not dangerous, only a shadow of the injury from the tunnel.

     Tristan grips my hands.

     I keep my gaze on Aaron as the two soldiers lead him away through the trees.

                                  ~

     Silence descends on the forest.

     Tristan unclenches his fingers from mine and begins to move down the tree. “We should get going.” His voice is gentle.

     I blink, trying to dispel the blurry images from my mind. I follow Tristan to the ground, my vision weaving in and out of focus as the tears in my eyes trace down my cheeks and disappear. Tristan wraps his arm around my shoulder, whether for physical support or comfort, I don’t know.

     We walk through the sheds and between stone walls, Tristan keeping his gun up in case we run into any of the search teams, but all is still. I want to ask what will happen to Aaron, if he’ll be thrown back in the prison. Or worse. I can’t though, or the pain filling my mind will win over my shaky grip on control.

     The Irish sun is setting when we stumble from the cover of trees, exhaustion coming over me in waves. Darkness spins through my vision.

     “How do we…” I trail off, too tired to finish the question.

     Tristan stops and scans the open road before us. “I may be able to get us a car to the airport. We can head back to United, if word hasn’t traveled too far about me.” I sway on my feet, and he gives me a concerned look. “I’m sorry…I don’t know what else to do.”

     I shake my head. “I don’t care. Let’s just…get away from here.”

     “Okay. You stay here for now.” Tristan guides me a few feet back into the woods. “Shoot anyone who comes too close, okay?” He turns and jogs away.

     My shoulder aches. I let my gun drop to the forest floor and sink down beside it, resting my head against the trunk of a tree and trying to ignore the drumming in my temples.

                             ~

     A heavy gray light surrounds me. I’m crouching in dust, dirt walls curving around me to create a long tunnel. I can’t see beyond a yard in front. My fingers grip a long—barreled gun, and I move with careful steps down the tunnel. I can hear the muted sounds of gunfire growing louder as I edge down the dusty path. I turn into a wider tunnel and straighten. The tunnels branching off from the main shaft emanate the sounds and smells of death, but I keep my face pointed ahead, not daring to investigate…

The boy lies twisted on his side, a single hole in his forehead. Beyond him, I can make out the hazy figures of several more lying motionless on the tunnel floor. The walls bend around me, closing in the empty space, pressing me to the ground. Sounds of fighting. Of death. Lying on my back, watching the tunnels spew soldiers, yelling, firing, killing. Scrambling backward, hands digging into the cold earth, fighting off the squeezing tunnel walls, breathing in the dusty air.

I’m leaving, running, because the fight is all around me, and already, the last few soldiers are falling to the dust.

                        ~

Footsteps drumming on the ground. I can feel the vibrations seep into my dream. My fingers scramble in the leaves and grass, fumbling for the pistol I dropped earlier.

“Hey, hey! It’s just me, Ally. Ally!”

My vision returns in slow, agonizing seconds. I’m crouching on one knee, aiming the barrel of my pistol at Tristan’s heart.

“Do you see me?” He steps forward, hands raised.

I lower the gun. “S—sorry.”

“Are you okay?” His gaze flickers around me, resting on my left shoulder.

I glance down. A small blot of blood seeps into my shirt. “I think—” My hands are trembling. The gun falls from my fingers, and I drop my face into my palms. 

Tristan kneels next to me. “Whoa, okay, girl. You’re fine. Did anyone—is there anyone—”

I take a breath and lift my face. “N-no, I’m okay.” I’m hoping he won’t notice my damp cheeks, but he leans forward and wipes my face with his fingertips.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just a dream.” I wonder how long I was asleep. Shadows are creeping over the trees, the sun no longer visible on the horizon. I drag a hand across my face.

He’s still watching me, but nods. “Good. We’ve got to get out of here.”

                             ~

We sit in silence, the purr of the engine so quiet compared to the rickety thing Aaron and I drove to Chattanooga. This Carmen automobile can almost drive itself. Tristan sits in front of the wheel, making the turns when necessary, but the car keeps itself on the road with no prodding. I watch as the wheel pivots to the right, following the curve of the road.

“Ally?”

“Huh?” My head jerks up.

Tristan places his hands on the wheel, and I notice the white of his knuckles. “I’m sorry about Aaron.”

The dust clouds from the road swirl upward toward the murky sky.

He glances at me. “Are you going to talk to me?”

“Aaron knew I was in that tree. He wouldn’t have stayed there with an empty pistol and one knife if he hadn’t known where I was.”

Tristan doesn’t answer, so I plow ahead.

“Did you two work out this amazing plan to sacrifice yourselves to keep me safe?”

“We…we saw you coming toward the sheds where all the soldiers were. I snuck out to get you, and…you know the rest.”

I clench my fists. “You left Aaron there alone?”

“I had the dangerous part. We figured that if I was caught, they would at least hesitate before, um, killing me, or something.”

I can’t breathe for a moment. “You think…”

“I don’t know. That was our plan. He agreed to it.”

“Why would Aaron get out of his hiding place to stand under my tree and get caught?”

“Ally…”

“And why wouldn’t you let me help him?” My voice rises. “I could have done something. And so could you.”

“Ally.”

“What?”

“You think Aaron would have appreciated that? There were soldiers all over the place. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“It might have! I’ll never know whether I could have prevented all this from happening.” My voice is breaking now, and I can’t stop the hysteria in my words. “They might torture him, or chain him up somewhere, or throw him in the streets somewhere and make him forget me and Flame and whatever is happening in Carmen…” I break off, sobs fighting to bubble from my throat. I press a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the endless dusty plains stretching over the hills.

“‘Whatever is happening in Carmen’ shouldn’t have anything to do with Aaron.”

I struggle to make this connect to what I’d said. “What?”

“Every government makes mistakes,” Tristan says, sounding exasperated. “Aaron was dead against them from the start. I don’t know why.”

“This isn’t…I’m not asking for opinions on Carmen.”

“Carmen is the issue, Ally. Without them, this country would have gone to ruins years ago. They’re doing their best.”

“Now it sounds like you’re sympathizing with them.”

Tristan twists a knob to the right of the wheel, wiping a layer of grime off the windshield. “They are holding us together—”

“We are living under a lying, corrupted mass of people scrambling over each other for more power.”

“Says who?” Tristan shoots back. “You are quoting Aaron, I’ll bet. He knows nothing about what they’ve done; and neither do you.”

I slam my hand against the dashboard, making him jump. I start a little, too. “Aaron knows more than you. He learned firsthand about their lies.”

Tristan hesitates. “Firsthand?”

I try to backpedal. “And you are talking to someone who’s life was ruined because of this government.”

“Did Aaron work for Carmen?”

I growl in frustration. “Yes.”

“Nova…” Tristan sits back in his seat, staring out the windshield. “Why didn’t they…” He trails off, focusing back on me. “And you’re okay with that.”

It doesn’t sound like a question. I blink, trying to decide how to answer. “I mean…he had a good reason.”

“Ah. And I don’t.”

“I’m not—I didn’t mean—”

“You think Gerick is the answer to everything, don’t you? You know Flame isn’t everything he’s banged it up to be, right?”

“I thought you were on my side.” I fight to stay calm.

“There aren’t sides.”

“Oh? And here I was, thinking Carmen was shooting Tasers at me. Must have been aiming for the squirrels.”

Tristan jerks the wheel to the left, turning into a new road. “You can’t judge something you don’t understand.”

The car makes another tight turn. The silence stretches between us.

“They won’t hurt him.”

I look up. “Who?”

“Aaron.”

“And he isn’t lying to me.”

Tristan doesn’t look at me. “Whatever happens…remember I won’t hurt you.”

Something inside me twists. “I’ve always trusted you, Tris.” Maybe not always agreed, but I can’t easily forget the last two years.

“Good.” His voice is hoarse.

The landscape flashes by. It looks so familiar—the buildings, the signs, the trees growing steadily greener and closer. The dust from the roads is disappearing in the pruned grass and delicate lawns.

Lawns and grass.

A sign flickers by, too blurry for me to read. But I recognize the symbol emblazed on the bottom.

“Tris…?” I turn to look at him.

“Trust me.” Tristan’s face is white but resolute. “This is for your own good.”

My brain doesn’t seem to be working right. The sign swims up in my mind, the colors bright and grotesque, and panic builds in my stomach. “What…what you are going to do?”

“Keep you safe.”

Carmen.

Tristan’s lips are pressed together so tightly they’re as pale as his cheeks.

“No.”

The trees flash by, growing in neat little  lines, the road changing from gravel to expensive asphalt.

“We’ll go back to the way it was. You and me. No Aaron, no Flame, no worries.” His gaze flickers to mine. “I can protect you there.”

 My voice is gone. “I can’t, Tris. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“Don’t you see?” Tristan turns to me, his eyes pleading. “Carmen can pull itself together. They’re working on something big now. Something that will change the world. You can’t tear that down because of a mistake.”

My throat constricts. “You would do that? Hand me over willingly?”

“Listen to reason. You don’t have to deal with that awkward, former Carmen doctor anymore. What has he done to help you? I promise, I will take care of you. Like before.”

My head is whirling. I stare at him, my breath rattling in my throat.

“You’ll forgive me, Ally? I didn’t want to lie to you; I’m only doing it for you.”

“This isn’t for me. This is for you.”

“Ally, you don’t understand—”

“No. I don’t.” I push the button for my window. The air streams in, whipping my hair into my face. Tristan yells something over the noise. I lift my pistol over the glass of the window still rolling down, aim carefully for the rubber tire beneath us, and press the trigger.

The side of the automobile dips down as the gunshot mixes with the explosion of air from the tire. I have just enough time wrap my arms around my head before the trunk of a tree appears in front of the car, and the sound of screeching metal mixes with shattering glass.

CHAPTER TEN

     Silence pierces the air.

     The smell hits me first, a sickening mixture of gasoline and burnt rubber. I start to lift my arm to cover my face, but the movement sends a wave of dizziness through me. I drop back against the seat, trying to draw in breaths of the heavy air. I don’t know if I can move. I grit my teeth and twist my head, peering through the haze of smoke and twilight darkness.

     The windshield is shattered, and through the empty space, I can see the trunk of the tree pressed close against the front of the car.

     Tristan is slumped against the door, his eyes closed and a thin stream of blood trickling from his forehead. He doesn’t move. The air in the car is choking me. I feel the panic closing in, and claw at the safety belt strapped across my shoulders and waist. I have to get out of this thing.

     My hands slide over the seat as I edge myself upright, blood pounding in my temples. I blink back the blackness creeping through my vision, and focus on the shattered window and windscreen. I shove the door with my foot, hoping it will open on its own, but it doesn’t move.

     Tristan moans.

     I glance back at his motionless form. I have to get him out, though I know now what he’d planned to do with me. I can’t leave him in here to choke on exhaust and the chemicals filling the air. I force myself closer to the door and fumble for the lock on the side, managing to push the door open at last. The night air rushes in, cooling my face. I crawl through the door and to the ground, coughing on the exhaust and dust that rise in clouds around me. A huge tree towers above me, the front of the car smashed in its wide side. I press my hands against the trunk and get to my feet. The world sways around me, the ground under my boots lurching from side to side. I clutch my head in an attempt to steady myself, and my hands come away sticky with blood.

     My breath comes in sharp bursts as I push down nausea. The driver’s side of the car faces the road, where I can make out the faint, glowing shapes of Carmen’s several buildings. I place my hands on the twisted metal of the car and inch around the side, my head still whirling. When I get to Tristan’s door, I can see that the crash has warped the metal around the handle, and the door is half open already. I nudge it aside with my foot and grab Tristan’s arms with my bloody hands.

     Getting him out is a nightmare. I try to keep from jostling him too much, but between the dizziness from the hit to my head, and the exhaust filling my lungs, I can hardly keep myself upright. After struggling for what feels like hours, I manage to drag Tristan a few feet from the ruined automobile and drop down next to him.

     I need to go. I press a hand to my forehead and try to think. I don’t know what I’ll do if Tristan wakes up, and I don’t know how long it will take for Carmen to send out their men to search for us. I have to get away. But the thought of Aaron invades my mind again. He could be locked up somewhere, maybe being questioned about Flame, forced to tell their plans about me.

     I crawl to the other side of the tree, facing away from the road and distant lights of Carmen, and slump against the prickly bark. What would Aaron do? Not blow out a tire of a moving vehicle without at least thinking it through first, that’s for sure. He’d tell me not to worry about him, but to make my way to Australia. Brilliant, Aaron. And how is that possible? I close my eyes and try to ignore the stench from the ruined car. Our last plan was to get to that place in United, but here I am, across the ocean in the wrong direction.

     I dig my fingers in the dirt and fight the feeling of despair. I can’t do this alone. Even Tristan’s company would be better than this, struggling to think with a pounding headache and bloody hands. I need Aaron. But there is no way I can sneak into Carmen by myself.

     Unless I’m caught.

     I press my palm against my forehead, a hazy plan forming in my mind. I can’t get to Flame, and without Aaron here to tell me why I should care, the idea of Carmen continuing on its current path as the government of United and Europe doesn’t seem too bad. I have trouble remembered exactly how Flame is a better option. All I know is that Flame is out of my reach. How bad would it be, really, if I let Carmen catch me instead of Flame? They both want my support, Aaron said, and in many ways, Flame’s plans seem just as selfish as Carmen’s. Maybe I can choose between the two.

                             ~

     I have no idea how late, or early, it is. The bushes over my head block out the darkened sky. I don’t remember crawling away from the car, but as I poke my head from the bush, I can see the dark figure of the tree hulking in the distance. I must have had the sense to get away last night.

     Wincing at my cold, sore muscles, I inch from under the bushes and get to my knees. I’m still in the uniform of a Carmen guard, though it is hardly recognizable in its ragged state. I fumble in the pockets of the jacket and pants, trying to find something useful. I come across a tiny penlight clipped to the belt and nothing else. Great. My pistol is gone, too. I must have left it in the wreckage of the Carmen car.

     Stupid, Ally.

     Stupid, stupid stupid. I leave the one thing that might actually help me rescue Aaron in a ruined heap of metal.

     I take my penlight in my hands, but don’t turn it on. A light can broadcast my whereabouts to any watchful eye above and around me. I feel better with it in my hands, as if anything comes too close, I will be able to brain it with the delicate, narrow rod.

     I grip a branch from a nearby tree and pull myself upright, ignoring the dizziness swirling in my vision. I stand for a moment, allowing the world to steady, then start back toward the road, gripping my penlight.

     I stop several yards away from the wreck, trying to peer through the pre-dawn gloom to watch for signs of an ambush, or Tristan. The thought of Tristan still lying unmoving on the dusty ground stops me cold for a moment. After a few seconds of panicked immobility, I inch forward. The passenger door hangs open where I left it, and I squint inside, trying to calm my breathing. I have to crouch on the cracked leather seat to see the glint of metal, and I reach across to the backseats, where the pistol must have landed after we’d run into the tree. I snatch it from the ground and back up out of the car.

     Trying to avoid the littered glass from the windshield and windows, I edge around the side of the car and look to where I’d put Tristan.

     He’s gone.

     A mixture of relief and fear propels me forward, and I kneel next to the imprint of his body in the dust. Several dark patches of blood are hardened on the ground, and several different prints of boots are scattered around. So either he’s alive, and hadn’t awakened before a team from Carmen showed up, or…

     I shove away the thought and get back to my feet. What now? I’ve got my gun, whatever good that will do me, but with no clear idea what to do next. I swipe my sleeve across my face and step further from the ruined automobile, turning away from the sight of blood on the ground.

     What will they do with Aaron? Will they care that he is a former employee, or will that fuel their anger at his betrayal?

     If I was Aaron, and Allison Mire was trapped in those buildings, I won’t be hesitating on my next action.

     But I’m not Aaron, and I’m not stuck in Carmen, which is exactly where Aaron and Flame wants me to be. I try to imagine how life would be better without Carmen, with this rebel base in Australia ruling Europe and United instead, but all I can see is that both sides want me to do something that the other does not—give my allegiance.

     And what do I care, anyway? With Carmen, I can rescue a friend and maybe get my other back. With Flame, I abandon both. For one moment, this easy way out presents itself in a favorable light. If Aaron is so concerned for my welfare, shouldn’t I be as well?

     I’m just as selfish as Tristan. Fighting for what I want without consideration of the people around me.

     The realization makes me sick.

     I lean against a tree and close my eyes, trying to avoid the thought that pulses in my mind.

     I’ve got to get Aaron out of there.

     And I have something that Carmen wants.

Me.

                             ~

     I approach the Carmen gates from the side, not sneaking exactly, but taking quiet steps, trying to stay out of sight of the guardhouse perched by the side entrance. I can’t decide how to get past the initial guards. No one appeared to suspect me when I was moving through Carmen in the uniform, so I can only hope they’ll fall for the same trick twice. Even if my uniform is now tattered beyond recognition.

     As I’m passing a cluster of bushes, I feel someone’s hand clamping down on my arm. I jerk away reflexively, but the girl in a dark uniform grabs me again.

     “Got her!” She yells, and I see several other soldiers emerging from the surrounding vegetation.

     The soldier’s fingers dig into my flesh, and I force myself not to sink my teeth in her arm. “I—”

     “Quiet.” She twists my arm behind my back and shoves me to my knees.

     My head spins. I blink back tears of pain and squint at the figure approaching us.

     Metals gleam on his chest as the new man bends down to study my face. “It’s her. Give her an injection and take her inside.”

     “Wait!” I shy away from the needle in another soldier’s outstretched hand. “I’ll come quietly. I need to—to talk to your commander. I promise—no tricks.”

     He laughs. “Not going to happen. Maybe later she’ll grace you with a few words.”

     I force my voice to stay calm and steady. “I will go to your prison, but I must talk with someone in charge. It’s important.”

     The man crosses his arms. “I’m in charge of this group. Say what you must.”

     I run through my options. One, try to break away from the guard and make a mad dash to the building, hoping to run into someone I can bargain with. Two, go to prison and pray for an opportunity to speak to the commander. Three, talk to this man and hope he’ll take me to someone else when he realizes what I’m asking. I hate how much I have to rely on desperate hoping.

     “I’ll speak to you,” I decide. “But send your men away. It’s…private.”

     The man studies me for a moment, then jerks his head at the group of soldiers in the semicircle around me. They step away, leaving me, the man, and the soldier still holding my arm. Close enough.

     “You know who I am,” I begin. “By this time, I could have been miles away from here, after duping your agent at the car wreck, and you’d never see me again.” He doesn’t seem confused about my mention of Tristan, so he must have some inkling of what’s going on. “I’m—”I swallow, my throat dry. “I’m here to give myself up. On one condition: you release Aaron Gerick, without injury, to go wherever he pleased out of the country.”

     He barks a laugh. “So…I see what this is about now. Feeling a bit guilty, are you?”

     I grit my teeth. “I have to talk to your commander.”

     “I don’t think that’s necessary.” He leans forward. “What’s in it for us? Sure, you ‘gave yourself up’, but you are in our custody already. You think we’ll let your boyfriend go out of gratitude? We don’t have to do zilch.”

     The soldier is still holding my arms behind my back. I shove down, forcing her to bend over to keep her hold on my arms. I kick back with one leg, smashing my boot into her thigh. She yelps and falls backward in the dust. I summersault on top of her, digging my knees into her shoulders, one arm pressing her neck against the ground, and my free hand aiming my pistol at the captain.

“The rest of you keep back,” I call to the soldiers behind me. I hear the shuffling of feet as the rest of the soldiers realize what has happened. “Come around where I can see you. Unless you want your captain dead.”

     The soldiers move slowly in front of me, watching their captain. If they’d been thinking fast enough, I’d be shot through the head by now. But I suppose they’ve been commanded not to shoot.

     “Now pile your weapons here.” I nod at the ground in front of me.

     As they file to obey, I pull my arm away from the soldier’s neck to pluck the gun from her pocket and toss it with the others. “What does your commander want with me?” I ask the captain, watching the growing mound of pistols.

     “I don’t know. None of us do.” His eyes never leave the pistol in my right hand.

     I consider this, then shout again at the soldiers. “Mics on the ground as well, please.”

     Thunk, thunk, thunk.

     “Now turn your backs and run to give the alarm,” I tell the men.     They stare at me for a moment, then dash away toward the guard house.

     I stand, leaving the soldier gasping for air on the ground and grab the captain by his collar. I rest the barrel of my pistol against his neck and stalk toward the gates.

     As we travel down the winding road, I struggle to sort out my thoughts, trying to figure out how to get past the rest of the guards so I can speak with someone with more authority. For the first time since this whole thing started, though, I feel back in power, a soldier squirming under my hand, and the solid weight of a gun in my palm. I know what my goal is, and it doesn’t rely on anyone but myself.

     With the aid of the captain’s keycard, I unlock the gates and jog toward the hulking building across the yard, the captain lurching beside me, his collar yanking him about like a dog on a leash.

     We are greeting inside by a plethora of guards gathering their gear to answer the shrill alarm echoing on the stone walls. They freeze when they see me.

     “I need—”I begin.

     “We know what you need.” A female guard steps forward, her voice mocking. “Let poor Captain Drake go, and we’ll take you to the commander.”

     I don’t move. “How do I know you won’t just drag me off to prison?”

     The captain whimpers as my gun’s barrel presses against his skin.

     She taps a finger on her lips. “Hm. Well. If you don’t let him go, we’ll just grab you by force. You may be able to shoot a few of us, but I doubt you have enough bullets to kill us all.”

     I pause, then release Drake, shoving him toward the unmoving line of soldiers. He glares at me, rubbing the bruise that must be forming from the pressure of my gun on his neck.

     “Fine.” I don’t take my finger from the trigger of my gun. “Lead on.”

     She smiles, which doesn’t reassure me, and waves the soldiers away. “Continue your regular duties. Come with me, soldier Mire.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

     I grip the pistol, keeping my eyes on the back of the girl’s head. Her blonde hair swings from a high ponytail as we move further into the building. At last, she pauses outside a plain, white door and gestures for me to knock. I uncurl my fingers from the pistol’s handle and tap on the door, keeping an eye on my guide. She leans against the wall, yawns, checks something from her pocket, and adjusts her ponytail.

     “Enter.”

     I shove at the door.

     “Hem. Excuse me.” The girl reaches past me and presses her finger against a glowing panel. The door beeps and slides open.

     Inside a simple wooden desk sits before a large window, a breeze rustling the off-white curtains. Two chairs sit behind the desk, and in of them is a young girl, leaning forward, elbows on either side of the desk, studying something on top of a neat stack of paper. Her wavy brown hair falls in front of her face.

     I step inside, glancing around for a sign of who this girl is.

     She looks up, her dark eyes fixing on me. “Jayla.”

     I blink. “Um, no, I—”

     “Yes, ma’am.” The guard walks forward.

     Jayla? I probe my memory, trying to remember if I’ve seen her before. Her blonde hair looks somewhat familiar, but I can’t place it.

     “Give this to Kila, will you?”

     “Yes, ma’am.” Jayla takes the folder from the girl’s hand and bows. She shoots me a disgusted look and retreats, the door sliding shut behind her.

     The girl sits back in her chair, gazing out of the window. “Can you put the gun down, please? I know they’re necessary on the warfront, but it’s safe enough here.”

     I notice my arms are still outstretched, aiming the pistol at her heart. I lower it, but don’t put it back in my pocket.

     “Thanks.” She turns to me, a friendly smile on her lips. “So, you’re the famed Allison Mire? I’m so glad to meet you.”

     “Who are you?” The words come out harsher out than I’d meant.

     “Lilian. Lilian Huston.”

     Hutson. I try to think. “Head doctor at Carmen?”

     She laughs. “Hardly. I’m afraid my medical skills were never quite up to par, much to the disappointment of my sister.” She gestures at the second chair a few feet to her left. “Sit down, won’t you?”

     I perch at the edge of the seat, fiddling with my pistol before placing it on the chair beside me. “Then…I guess I need to talk with your sister, uh, the Hutson in charge?”

     Lilian shakes her head. “Whatever you want to say can be said to me. My sister has been busy with all the medical thingies around here. I’m in charge of the politics.” She pauses. “Well, more or less. My sister continues with her title, but I run the place.”

     I try to gather my thoughts. “Ms. Hutson. I am here only to trade myself for the release of Aaron Gerick.”

     She cocks her head. “Aaron? Why do you want him released?”

     I blink at her. “That…that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I will cooperate if you let him go. Let him leave Ireland.”

     Lilian rests her chin on her hand and stares out the window. “If you plan to bargain for Gerick’s life, why hurt my agent to get away? You only came back again.”

     “I wasn’t…I wasn’t exactly thinking everything through.” I think of the blood stains forming in the dust. “But I’m here now. Will you accept my bargain?”

     Lilian stares at me, but I have the creepy feeling she isn’t really seeing me. “Tristan is pretty shook up,” she says quietly. “He’s in the infirmary now, trying to recover.”

     Trying?

     “He volunteered to go after you once we’d released you into United, you know.” A small smile crosses her lips. “My sister wasn’t thinking things through either, in that moment. If I’d been in charge, we’d never have abandoned you. As it was, once Susan realized her mistake, it was Tristan’s job to track you down again and make sure you were staying quiet.” Her face darkened. “But he never came back. At least, not on his own.”

     I clench my fists in my lap, all confidence I’d felt outside Carmen now gone. “How is that my fault? I never even knew who Tristan was. I’d have been happy enough living just as I was.”

     She straightens, pushing her dark hair from her face. “And I’d have let you. But Gerick entered the equation. It’s his fault this whole mess got started.”

     I may not care who runs the country, but hearing the blame being thrown on Aaron makes me angry. “It’s your fault you lied to the country about me. Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance?”

     She smiles at me. “What makes you think that chance is gone?”

     I narrow my eyes, my fingers straying toward the gun on my chair.

     “You put a lot of worth in yourself. Why do you believe your life is more important to me than Gerick’s?”

     I have trouble breathing. “You…you chased me across the country.”

     “And we caught Aaron Gerick. Not you.”

     “But Tristan…”

     “He does what he wishes. Most likely, he was trying to gain favor once again by turning you in. I don’t think he understood our motives very well. After all, as you pointed out, we didn’t show up at your place until Aaron entered that city. And I must say, once he was charged with taking care of you, it got much easier to catch him.” Lilian leans forward. “I don’t care about you. What harm have you done to us? It’s Flame that’s been tearing us apart, thinking they are somehow better. Aaron Gerick is far from the top man, but he knows quite a bit. And now that you have so thoughtfully come back, I might be able to get some real information from him.”

     My chair falls to the floor as I jump to my feet. “You can’t.”

     “Can’t what? Kill you? Flame is pretty ignorant for all their pomp and pride. I don’t need you, once Gerick talks.”

     Lilian’s prettily made up face is dark with anger, though her smile is still in place. I back up toward the door, holding my gun out in front of me.

     “You can run if you want, Mire.” Lilian stands, smoothing her skirt. “I just can’t guarantee Gerick’s safety if you do so. If he won’t talk—and I don’t believe he will without you as a stimulant—then I don’t have any need for him.” She walks around her desk, and I notice her own pistol clenched in her fingers. “Or do you want to do what you set out to do? Trade his life for yours?”

     I can’t do this. I feel something trickle down my face, and I can’t tell if it’s blood from my head wound, or a tear. In being selfless, I’ve only made things worse, somehow.

     But I can’t leave.

     They’ll kill Aaron.

     I can’t do it.

     “Make up your mind, Mire.” Lilian scowls at me. “Really, I think it’d be more helpful if you made Aaron talk, but I can work things out either way. Just choose.”

     My hands are shaking, and I want nothing more than to shoot this crazy girl in the heart. But what then? I can’t imagine they’ll let me live long enough to save Aaron.

     The gun slips from my fingers and bangs against the wooden floorboards.

     Lilian shrugs. “I take that as an agreement. Jayla, get her, please.”

     I don’t remember hearing the guard come in, but my arms are yanked behind my back, and I’m hauled to my feet. “At least let me talk to him first!” I find my voice. “Maybe I can convince him—”

     “C’mon, princess,” Jayla growls in my ear. “Don’t make this difficult for me.”

     As I stumble after her, trying to regain my balance, I suddenly remember where I know her. Tristan’s accomplice from the basement. I knocked her out. No wonder she gives me that loathing look every time she glances at me.

     Soldiers are milling about everywhere, for the first several hundred meters, but as me move farther from Lilian’s office and take three flights of stairs up, more personnel dressed in lavender scrubs fill the halls. We pass several rooms with glass walls, filled with machinery and people with masks, gloves, and safety goggles.

     Jayla’s hand is clamped to my shoulder, but even if I could get away from her, I would soon be lost in this endless maze of hospital rooms and offices.

I try to prepare myself for the sight of Aaron. Have they already tried to extract information from him? I don’t know much about how this government handles prisoners, but I’m not too optimistic. Perhaps they don’t make a habit of keeping people unconscious and in a dark cell, but I can’t be sure.

I’m too wrapped up in my fears about Aaron’s condition that I don’t notice when Lilian halts. I plow into her from behind, and Jayla hisses an explosive curse in my ear.

“Language, Jayla,” Lilian says absentmindedly. “Key us in, please?”

The disgruntled soldier, fingers now digging in like needles in my skin, jabs her free hand at the door. It slides open, and I stumble inside, shoved by Jayla.

Aaron is sitting on a cot, looking tired but healthy. I can see faded red marks on his wrists where the soldiers’ ropes must have burned him, but he’s fine. I take another step inside, and he looks up.

“Ally,” he whispers. “What are you doing here?”

I glance back at Jayla, who raises one eyebrow, and Lilian, who gives me a smile. I turn back to him, deciding to ignore my audience. “Listen to me. You have to tell them what you know about Flame.”

I can see the surprise and shock flitting over his face. “What?”

“They are going to kill you if you don’t.” I crouch next to him.

His gaze flickers to the door. “Did they put you up to this?”

“I’m trying to save your life.”

“Why did you come back?”

I shake my head and stand up. “Just promise me you’ll tell them what you know.”

He stares at me, disbelief covering the exhaustion I’d seen earlier. “You’re asking me to betray Flame. I can’t do that.”

     “Alright, Allison.” Lilian’s voice cuts through the silence. “You’ve had your chance.”

     I back away from Aaron, my hands slipping into my pockets. “I know.”

     “Up against the wall.” Jayla snatches my arm as the door slides open. I turn my head as she shoves me against the whitewashed plywood.

     “Ah, Agent Ardell! I was wondering when you’d get here.”

     I can’t breathe for a moment. Tristan stands in the doorway, dressed again in a starched, dark grey uniform. The cut from the automobile accident has been cleaned so only a thin line can be seen, but the skin around it looks swollen and red. But he’s still alive. I try to push down the swelling of emotions that bubble up inside me as Tristan steps inside and leans against the far wall.

     “Jayla told me you needed my help.” The words are gravelly, like he’s speaking around a sore throat. “What can I do?”

     “Have a gun?” Lilian sits on the edge of a high stool and twirls around to face me. “Never mind. You can use mine.” She tosses a tiny pistol across the room, jewels glinting on the side in the light.

     Tristan fumbles to catch it, and I wince as he almost loses his balance. He should be in bed. Why would they bring him here? Just to add to the atmosphere of defeat?

     “Hold it to her head, please.”

     Tristan’s eyes flicker to me for the first time, then back to Lilian. Again, the hoarse voice. “You want me to shoot her?”

     “Not just yet.”

     Tristan puts his free hand on the counter and approaches me and Jayla. I can feel my heart pounding as he slips one arm around my neck and rests the pistol against my head.

     I stand straight, my fingers tightening on the cloth of my jacket, struggling to hide my shaking.

     “Alright, Gerick. Let’s try this again, okay? My agent may have betrayed me once, but I can assure you he won’t try it again. For one thing, he’s too weak to do anything but what I tell him. So.” Lilian leans forward, her eyes glittering. “What do you know of Flame’s plans?”

     I can see Aaron’s chest rising with each breath he takes, the fear in his eyes all too apparent. “I—”

     I lock my eyes on his, begging him silently to give in. I’m trying to save your life. Please, how important can Flame be?

     Tristan pulls me closer, readjusting the pistol against my forehead as Aaron hesitates.

     “Jayla has a knife if you’d rather,” Lilian suggests. “Jayla?”

     The soldier holds something in front of my face. It takes me a second to focus on the thin, shiny blade. I grit my teeth as she rests the point on my cheek.

     Lilian signals her to go ahead, but Aaron surges forward on his cot, his wrists snapping back as the chains tighten. “No, wait!”

     Lilian turns to him. “Yes?”

“Allison isn’t anything to you. Just let her go.”

     “Oh, she’s being helpful at the moment.”

     Aaron looks back at me, his eyes dark with pain. “Why did you do this?” he whispers.

     I swallow. “I—I had to come back. They would have killed you if I hadn’t…hadn’t agreed—”

     “—To force me to talk,” he finishes.

     I want to break away from his gaze, but Tristan’s arm holds my head still. I close my eyes instead, shutting Lilian’s victorious smirk and Aaron’s pain.

     “You still don’t understand Carmen or Flame, Ally.”

     “How is your life more important than Flame?” I let my eyes open again, pleading with him.

     Lilian claps her hands. “Yes, listen to the girl! I’ll let you go if you’d just answer a few questions.”

     Aaron continues without acknowledging her. “Susan Hutson is the real head of this government. Lilian is just her younger sister, pretending the run the place. Lilian has kept her sister locked up to keep up the pretense of having control. But she doesn’t.”

     “Oh, please.” Lilian breaks in. “Susan is busy with all the medical stuff. I told Allison this earlier. She didn’t seem to mind what bothers you so much, Aaron. And I’ll have you know I’m doing a much better job than Susan was.”

     “If that’s so, why is Korussia continuing to grow? They are closing in on California, Lilian, and you don’t know what do to. So you pretend it isn’t happening. War is coming, and you are still wrapped up in keeping Susan contained. Flame won’t have it. You will ruin this country with your incompetence.”

     Lilian rises to her feet. “Don’t you dare say another word.”

     “I thought you wanted me to talk. Well, I’m talking. I’m telling you exactly what you wanted to know.” Aaron leans forward, the chains stretching to their full extent from the cot. “Flame is coming, Ms. Hutson. And they’re going to burn this place down.”

     Lilian stares at him for a long moment. Then she turns away and lets out a little laugh. “So melodramatic. You and I both know Flame wouldn’t touch this place except to drain it of its talented personnel. Hospitals are necessary, even for rebels.”

     “Ms. Lilian.” Jayla’s knife is no longer resting against my face, but I can see it in her hand as she steps forward. “Do you want me to return him to his cell?”

     Lilian shoots her an annoyed look. “No, of course not. He hasn’t been the least helpful yet.”

     Jayla starts to answer, but a shrill beep echoes through the room, interrupting her. Lilian turns her head to the door, where I notice a light blinking on a panel attached to the wall. “What was that?” Lilian cocks her head at Jayla.

     Jayla slips her knife in her belt and walks to the panel. She pushes a few buttons, then looks back at Lilian. “Security cams are off-line.”

     Lilian sighs and pushes a stray lock of hair behind one ear. “Well, then. I suppose—”

Attention, all Carmen employees. This establishment is under inspection. All personnel are required to report to base floor quietly and in the next five minutes.

The voice echoes through the room. I can see a couple people out in the hall stop and look around, so I guess the message is being relayed over the entire building.

     Lilian strides across the room to the door. “Grab Gerick, Jayla. Tristan, bring the girl here.”

     Tristan pushes me forward, and I let him lead me to the hall.

     “How long do we have?” Lilian asks Jayla as the soldier leads Aaron with his hands still cuffed together behind him.

     “By the announcement, five minutes. But we could easily run into someone before then.”

     This is Commander Ross, head of Flame. You are ordered to stand down and await further instructions. Your leaders are in our custody, and the building is surrounded.

“I’m not in custody,” Lilian mutters. She starts down the hall, the four of us following behind. “We’ll try the stairs. Have any idea where they’ve entered?”

     “Nope,” Jayla huffs, giving Aaron another tug on his arm.

     “I’d guess the east entrance,” Tristan says, as his breath pulses in my ear. The gun against my temple has slid to one side, nestling in my hair. “Someone in the security room could have tampered most easily with that door.”

     Lilian stops next to a wide door and taps the pad next to it. “Then we’ll try the basement. You think you can freeze the locks from that underground lab of yours?”

     “Maybe.”

     The door slides open, revealing a long set of stairs leading downward. “Perfect. We’ll try that.”

     “How is hiding in the basement going to help anything?” Jayla asks, stopping at the top stair.

     “Don’t you trust your leader, Jayla?” Lilian nudges her with her shoulder. “Go on.”

     “But once we’re down there, Ardell with freeze the locks so no one can go in or come out.”

     “Of the basement, yes.” Lilian squints at her. “What are you afraid of? Flame won’t be able to get down there for at least twenty minutes. We’ve got time to crawl through those war tunnels and get away. You have a better idea?”

     Jayla hesitates. “Yes.”

     Tristan yanks me backward as something flashes in Jayla’s hand. Her knife spirals toward Lilian, but she is already moving, ducking sideways and shoving the soldier toward the steep stairs. Jayla trips and falls, her head slamming against the cement steps.

     Lilian straightens, tugging at her silky shirt. “I suppose betrayal is contagious. Do you want to have a go at me again, Tris?”

     Tristan doesn’t move. I can feel his arm shaking against my collarbone. I don’t wait for him to make up his mind. Before he can reposition the gun against my head, I grab his arm with both hands and step backward, wrapping my leg around his foot and yanking forward. The pistol clatters to the ground, and Tristan lets go of my shoulders.

     I drop to the floor, reaching for the small gun, but Lilian’s high-heeled foot appears in my face and kicks the pistol to the wall. “Come on, Mire. That wasn’t very nice to an injured friend of yours.”

     I scramble to the side as she comes closer, drawing her leg back for another kick. “Aaron—”

     “Right here.”

     Lilian stumbles    backward as Aaron appears in front of her. “Give up, Lilian. Carmen is finished. Beating up a few people won’t help anything.”

     I get to my feet, and Lilian takes another step back.

“You may be right, Gerick.” Behind Lilian, I notice Jayla moving on the stairs. “But we are still the people’s heroes. No matter what your little rebel group may say, we ended the war, not you. Fight Korussia if it makes you feel better. But in the end, you still need me to rally the people.”

I see Jayla, blood dripping down her blond hair, reach down and pluck the knife from where it’d fallen on the steps.

“We don’t need your lies.” I know Aaron must notice Jayla, but he keeps his eyes on Lilian. “Flame will attempt to fix the country you’ve done so well to weaken.”

“And it starts now,” Jayla whispers. She slides the knife around Lilian’s throat.

The landing door bangs open, sending a flood of men through the doorway. I see a golden badge glint on the chest of the one in front. A single flame.

“Tristan,” Lilian gasps, shrinking away from the blade. “Now.”

I turn in time to see Tristan pick the pistol from the floor and point it at Aaron.  I leap forward as the gun goes off, and pain explodes in my abdomen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

     I can hear before I’m completely conscious.

     “Lilian’s been moved to the prison downtown.”

     “She’s not going to like that.”

     “I’m not concerned with what she wants. There’s no place else to put her, what with all the interrogations still going on. I can’t trust these people not to try to break her out, if she’d stayed here.”

     “Want me to go with you?”

     “No. Wait here and watch the girl, will you?”

     “No problem, commander.”

     As the door slides shut, I risk opening my eyes a bit. The room is dark, a narrow strip of light glowing along the ceiling. I can see a curtain pulled half-way around my bed, and a small cabinet and counter in one corner of the cramped room. I’m lying face up, and I try to focus on the figure slouched on a chair to my left. A faint beam of light shines up on the guy’s face—the screen of a tablet, like the panels by all the doors. When I shift, he looks up.

     “Oh, hey.”

     I try to move my arms to get to a sitting position, but they’re strapped to the cot I’m lying on. I strain against them, feeling the panic closing in. I can’t move.

     “Hold on now, don’t freak. It’s just so you don’t do anything stu—”

     I jerk my arm up and feel a snap as the bonds are ripped from the cot. A pain in my stomach comes to life at the movement, but I grab at the other strap and yank it out as well. “Where’s…” My throat grates with the word. I try to think, but the name escapes me. My thoughts move in a hazy pattern around the ache in my middle. “Where is—”

     The guy is on his feet, his gaze locked on my clenched fists. “Um, they’re safe. You’re safe. Just…hold on.” He reaches for something lying on the counter.

     I move without thinking. I hear his tablet fall to the floor and crack as I shove him backward on top of it. I press my knees in his shoulders and put one hand on his throat. “Where. Am. I.”

     “Carmen,” he chokes out. “But, Nova, we’re not here to hurt you. Gerick—”

     I let up the pressure on his neck. “Aaron?”

     “He’s…we’re with Flame.”

     I sit back, studying him. “Why was I tied to that thing?”

     “Like I said. To keep you from doing something st—uh, unorthodox. Gerick said you might be a little feisty when you woke up. His words, not mine.”

     Feisty? I pull my hand away. “Oh.”

     He risks a grin. “That guy seems to know you pretty well.”

     I look away. “Yeah.”

     “Can I get up now?”

     I scoot off him and lean back against the metal bars that crisscross under the cot, one hand pressed to my stomach. “What happened?”

     “Uh, a lot of things. It’s been over a week since you were shot.”

     I grimace and close my eyes. “Oh yeah. That. Over a week?”

     “I’m surprised you were able to get out of bed,” the guy admits. “You’ve been basically unconscious the whole time. Sped up the healing process.”

     The door beeps and slides open, letting in several people. I try to scramble to my feet, but the adrenaline from earlier is gone. I let the guy haul me to the cot, and I perch on the end, trying to sit up straight. I recognize the man in the front, but I’m not sure from where. When he speaks, I realize he’s the guy who was talking when I woke up.

     “She’s up.” His gaze flickers to the guy I’d tackled.

     “Yeah. About that, Commander Ross…”

     “It’s fine. As long as she’s okay.” The man looks at me.

     I know now who is he. Joshua Ross, commander of Flame. Aaron has mentioned him on occasion. He looks younger and more vulnerable than I’d have thought, given the awe Aaron bestows on him. “I’m fine.”

     “She’s in better shape than I am,” volunteers the other guy. He rubs his throat and gives me a rueful glance.

     “That will be all, Captain Talhouni.” Ross steps out of the way to let the captain pass. “Now, Allison Mire. We need to talk.”

     My back is beginning to hurt from my position. I must be a little out of shape from lying on a cot all week. “Okay…”

     “I wouldn’t have chosen you for our mission, but Gerick seemed to think you were our best bet. I hope you won’t prove him wrong.”

     This guy talks like a high-and-mighty commander at least. I don’t have an idea what he means. “I’m sorry?”

     “Carmen is done. While you were recovering, I had Lilian and all her minions taken in custody. We are sorting them now, who can be reused by Flame, who will be too spiteful to help our new government. The governmental agents will most likely be held along with Lilian in Dublin, while the doctors and nurses without any loyalty to Carmen will be kept here, to staff the hospital.”

     “You’re keeping the hospital?” I doubt Ross will appreciate being interrupted, but the idea makes me nauseous. “Aren’t you afraid it’ll just be a repeat of Lilian?”
     “Without Lilian to push it along, I’m fairly certain it will continue as a hospital for the rest of its days. We need a medical base, and this place is as supplied as we could wish for.” He pauses, looking back at the few people standing stoically behind him. “Now, Miss Mire, I don’t know what to do with you. You aren’t a Flame agent, no matter what Gerick might argue. You aren’t in league with Carmen, as far as I can tell, but you are little more than one of the millions of people mistreated by Lilian and her crew. What use are you to me?”

     I blink at him. Mistreated? And here I was, thinking I had a valid reason to wish death on whoever had tossed me out after messing up my mind. I’m just one of the crowd? I try to piece together the conversations Aaron and I had had, about Carmen and Flame. He’d wanted me in Australia to be safe from Carmen, but he’d said Flame wanted something of me. “What use,” I say, trying to copy Ross’s language and manner. “Did you think I was when you sent Gerick?—I mean, Aaron?”

     Ross raises one eyebrow. “Sent him? Gerick left on his own. Told me you were important to gaining favor, but I don’t think he understood how little the public cares anymore about their government. They wouldn’t fight a tyrannical leader if we’d handed them rifles and bombs. We just had to take on Carmen themselves.” His eyes narrow. “Lilian didn’t seem too concerned about letting us have you, did she?”

     My shoulders sag. “No.” And that’s what I can’t understand. Why did Aaron think I was so important? That the public cared at all for Carmen’s treatment of their heroine? Maybe they did at this point, but I suppose Ross is right. They are too tired to care at all. “Then…why did Aaron come after me?”

     “I’m sure he pretended—even to himself—that he was helping the cause. Maybe believed it. But in the end, I’m sure he only wanted you back. You did your purpose, but only by drawing our bait into United to capture Carmen’s attention. Someone had to do it, and Gerick was willing enough, though I’m not sure he understood.”

     And I almost got him killed. I lay back in the bed, wanting to escape from the conversation.

     “Commander,” someone whispers. “She’s still recovering. Maybe you can continue this discussion later?”

     He hesitates, and then the people shuffle out, the door sliding closed once more.

     I’ve been such a fool.

                             ~

     Carmen is beautiful when I’m not running for my life. I sit in a wheelchair on the little patio where Aaron, Tristan, and I had galloped through last week. I can walk, but the small, gray-haired doctor who cares for me asked me politely if I wouldn’t mind resting up just a bit more, before going back to whatever soldiery things I wanted to do, so I accepted the thing. It did make it easier, but I avoided being seen by Ross and the other Flame people who hounded me in it. They already think I’m a poor, little weak thing, and the wheelchair doesn’t help that opinion.

     I’ve heard Tristan is being sent to Australia, where Ross hopes to keep a better eye on him. They’ve decided he was not in the best of minds when he’d shot me, and had been forced into betraying me by Lilian, perhaps on threat of his life. I’m glad, though I can’t explain why. I’m almost certain this means Ross doesn’t mind too much if someone hurt me, as long as he might be useful to Flame. But when I think back to that day, I wonder if Tristan wasn’t aiming for Lilian herself. Aaron had been standing near her, and given the bullet went through my stomach, he’d been aiming low enough to hit her, if he’d tried.

     So that means it was my own stupid fault for assuming the worst of him. But didn’t I have the right? He’d been holding a gun to my head.

     I sigh and rest my cheek against the low stone wall, staring into the green garden around the patio. Already, Flame soldiers have scattered dust among the flowers, crushing many under their boots. Lilian may have been a tyrant, but she had known how to keep a pretty lawn. I suppose rebels don’t have time for that sort of thing.

     “Miss Mire.”

     I look up. Commander Ross stands in the entrance of the patio, gazing out beyond the stone wall at the trees and grass. I scoot upright in the wheelchair, pushing straggly pieces of hair from my face. “Commander.”

     He comes closer and I note the tiredness in his eyes. “May I have a word with you?”

     “I guess.” I realize too late this might not be the most appropriate thing to say to the new leader of Europe and United, but I don’t have the energy to backtrack and correct my tone. Instead, I wave at one of the seats on the patio.

     Ross sits down. “I am sending several planes with supplies and men to Australia to our base. Would you consider flying back with them?”

     I balk. “What?”

     “Gerick has convinced my officers that you might be of some use in our headquarters, as one of my captains. Dr. Hutson doesn’t think you can be much of a nurse, and Gerick might organize a rebellion of his own if I toss you back into United.”

     “…Hutson?” Why would Lilian know anything about my medical capabilities. And since when does Ross listen to her anyway?

     “Dr. Susan Hutson, former head doctor of Carmen.” Ross looks at me with a peculiar expression. “She’s been caring for you.”

     “The little gray-headed one?” I say incredulously. “That’s Susan Hutson?”

     “She’s the very best in the business. Dr. Hutson had nothing to do with Lilian’s exploits, and is as much a victim as you.”

     I hadn’t thought to ask her name. I sink a little lower in the wheelchair. “But…she’s so much older than Lilian.”

     “About twenty years.”

     I guess it’s stressful to live through a war, then be ruled by a little sister. I’d assumed the doctor was fifty at least.

     “Anyway,” Ross continues. “The plane leaves tomorrow. Dr. Huston believes you are well enough to fly in it. I’ll have to find a doctor to accompany you, as Dr. Hutson will have to stay here to fill in her old role before I find someone to take her place. But she’d rather retire.” Ross pauses. “Miss Mire.”

     “My name is Ally.”

     “Your real name is Allison Rachel Mire.”

     “I’m not that soldier anymore, Commander Ross, with all due respect.” I look away from him, back out to the garden. “I suppose I’ll go to Australia.” I can’t go back to United, to my little slum house. Without Tristan, I wouldn’t have the will to survive.

     “I’m not looking for your agreement.” Ross sits back in his chair. “I’ve already decided. You can thank your friend for that.”

     “Who, Aaron? Why does he care?”

      “He cares quite a bit. Have you talked to him recently?”

     I shake my head. I want to ask Aaron about his motives for tracking me down in United, but Ross’s explanation keeps me from that question. What do you say to a guy who spent the last two years looking for you, maybe just because he wanted to see you again?

     “I offered to appoint Gerick as head doctor after Dr. Hutson.”

     I tilt my head, considering this. “He’s good enough for that?”

     “Yes, more than good enough. I think he’d be an excellent choice. But he turned me down.”

     I frown. Unless he somehow enjoys life as a soldier more than doctoring, I can’t think of a good reason for him to not accept Ross’s offer. I suppose he might want to be an official, but I can’t picture him in a pressed suit, following Ross around like a pet dog with the other officials. “Did he say why?”

     “Not in so many words, but he’s asked me to send him to Australia with you.”

     Oh.

     “He argued that you needed a doctor to care for your wound, and so he asked to do that.”

     “Yes, but I don’t need that much care. I feel mostly fine. And the doctor—Dr. Hutson, I mean—says I don’t really need a personal doctor for much longer anyhow.” I lean forward. “Commander Ross, how is babysitting me more important than being head doctor here?”

     Ross looks aggravated. “How should I know? But I can’t force him to stay. And he’s got his heart set on going with you.”

     “Well…it’s not my fault. So don’t look at me like that.”

     Ross drums his fingers on the stone wall, gazing down at the Flame badges cluttering his pressed jacket. “Miss Mire, can I ask for a favor?”

     “Depends on what it is.”

     “Convince Gerick not to come with you to Australia. I need him here, to build back Carmen, and it would be a waste send him with you to be a mediocre soldier.”

     I blink at him, then shake my head. “I can’t do that. What would I say? ‘Please, Aaron, don’t fly with me, because, frankly, you’re no good as a fighter.’”

And what if I want him to come along? Maybe it would be a waste of his talents, but Tristan is lost to me, and while Aaron might harbor dreams of me that I can’t fulfil, I don’t want to lose him, too.

“I don’t care how you do it, but I can’t let him leave Ireland. Think of this as your first duty as a captain in my army.” Ross gets to his feet, effectively putting the conversation to a close. “You will board the first plane tomorrow with one of my soldiers. Aaron asked to speak with you once I finished, so I’ll send him in. Good afternoon.” The commander leaves, letting the screen door slide shut behind him.

Maybe I’m a coward, but I escape as soon as Ross disappears from sight. I leave my wheelchair sitting on the patio, and walk down the stairs to the garden, clutching the handrails for support. I find a little groove of trees and sit on a stone bench in the middle of them. The sun is shining, and I can see small, white clouds through the leaves above me. Ireland is cleaner than United, where pollution from too many people and bombs has cluttered the air with dust and grit. I let the warm air settle around me, ignoring the tight pain in my abdomen from my short walk.

“Hey, Ally.”

I jump, all thoughts of pretty Ireland fleeing my mind. “A-Aaron. What are you doing here?”

“I was just on my way to see you.” Aaron scans my face. “Did you talk to Ross?”

“He wants me to move to Australia.”

“I know. Will you?” He sits next to me on the bench.

I shrug. “I’m not sure what else I’d do.”

“I’ll be going too.”

I nod, trying to come up with a good response. Maybe I should feign complete ignorance, and ask him why he’d refused head doctor? Or maybe I shouldn’t bring it up, and let Aaron go where he wants. I don’t like Ross enough to attempt persuading Aaron otherwise out of the goodness of my heart, but the more I think about it, the more I believe Aaron would enjoy the position here. I’m just standing in his way, distracting him. Or maybe Ross was making things up, and I’m assuming something about Aaron that isn’t true.

“I, I heard Ross offered to make you head doctor here.” I look away from him and back at the forest floor.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you accept?”

Aaron shrugs. “I thought about it. But Susan has more experience than me, and with her in charge, they don’t really need me.”

“Ross said Dr. Hutson plans to retire as soon as possible. What then?”
     “Ross can find someone capable, I’m sure. He won’t give the position to just anyone.”

“But what if he can’t find anyone good enough?” I twist my hands in the hem of my hospital shirt, still not daring to look him in the face.

“Ally. I want to go to Australia.”

No. “Do you actually just like Australia that much?” I try to keep my tone light-hearted. “I’ve heard there are spiders as big as hands.”

 “It’s not that, exactly. It took a lot of convincing for Ross to let me go.” I feel his hand touch my shoulder. “I-I couldn’t leave you again.”

I take a shaky breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t let you give up your chance as head doctor for me.”

Aaron pulls his hand away. “I want to do it.”

I look up at him. “No, you don’t.” Does he? It occurs to me that maybe he and Allison Mire were more than just friends, back before the war ended. But I can’t be that person. I don’t know how. “You don’t want to give that up for a friend.”

The look on his face makes me wish I could take back my words. I can see hurt brimming in his eyes. “I—”

“Please, Aaron,” I whisper. “Don’t do this. Not for me.” He’s given up so much already. Two years of his life just to make sure I was safe. I can’t let him believe I will return to his old friend from the war. If he doesn’t realize it now, he will soon, when it’s too late to change his mind about head doctor and a life here.

Aaron turns away, hiding his expression from me.

I try to think of a safer explanation to give him, but all I can think of is the one I’d said sarcastically to Ross. “Ross needs you here,” I say instead, wincing at the irrelevance of the statement. I’m sure Aaron knows this fact already.

“Alright, Ally,” Aaron says in a low voice. He still won’t look at me.

I’ve done it. Ross will be happy. All I feel is a disgust in myself. “I’m sorry if…I didn’t mean to…” I trail off, angry at my lack of words.

He gives me a tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” He stands, looking down at me for a long moment. For a second, I think he’s going to say something. Then he turns and walks away through the trees, leaving me with a strange sense of loss.

                        ~

I stand at the door of the Flame plane, looking out on the lush green grass of Carmen’s fancy garden that’s about to become our runway.

“Ready to go, princess?” Jayla walks up to me, swinging a shoulder bag in one hand.

I don’t feel like conversing. “I’m waiting for a friend.” I expected Aaron to be here as I boarded. I don’t know how long Ross will keep me in Australia, and it might be months before I see Aaron again. I’m sure he’ll come to say goodbye.

“Who, Gerick?” She smacks her gum. “I think Ross is keeping him pretty busy with all his new doctor-y duties. Why would he come here?”

I clench my fingers. “I just thought…he might come to see us off.”

“I doubt it. Apparently, he really wants to be a soldier, so Ross made sure he couldn’t be here in case he changes his mind and gets on board.” Jayla looks at me out of the corners of her eyes, a smirk curling over her face.

I can guess what Jayla thinks about Aaron, but I say nothing.

Attention, passengers. Please go to your assigned quarters. We will takeoff momentarily.

“Let’s go.” Jayla drags me from the doorway.

Tristan is somewhere on this plane, Ross told me. My first thought is to go to him, to get some company besides Jayla, but I can’t imagine what he thinks of me. Or what I think of him. He told me he’d abandoned Carmen to stay with me, but how can I interpret his betrayal later on?

As the engines begin thrumming, I shake my arm from Jayla, who rolls her eyes and hurries toward her own suite, and run to one of the windows lining the walls. Just before the plane begins to move, I catch a sight of someone running toward it.

Aaron.

I realize I’m pounding on the thick glass, trying to catch his attention. As the plane moves down the runway, picking up speed, he stops, gazing after it. I try to figure out how to open the window, but there are no levers or buttons or anything.

The plane lifts into the sky.

I slump against the glass, my eyes squeezed shut, fingers still clutching the window sill.

“Ally?”

I shake my head, turning my body away from the speaker.

The footfalls stop, and I think maybe he’s left, when arms encircle me. I feel the cold touch of metal on my shoulders from the handcuffs bond to his wrists. “Ally, you’ll see him again. It’s not like we’re blasting into space.”

I let out a choked little laugh.

Tristan pulls me toward him, and we huddle there on the cold floor, the throbbing of the engines echoing around us.

                        THE END