Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) (25 page)

“Sophie has asthma,” I blurt out, forcing the memory of decapitating Dante from my being. I gnaw at my nails, giving my stress physical animation. “It’s a decent run to those trees and I don’t know if anyone told you—”

“We received a full medical history from all of the houseguests about a week ago,” Reuben interrupts. “We’re well aware and have taken all of the necessary precautions, and we expect there will be no problems.”

“Well, shouldn’t Issachar have gone with them? I mean…” I lick my lips and make a mental note that this nervous habit is something I definitely need to work on at some point. “I know you’ve planned and whatnot, but what if something does happen and—”

“With all due respect.” Reuben turns to me, arms crossed. “You are our primary concern. So, no, Issachar will not accompany the first group. He will accompany you. Meaning that if something happens to anyone in your group, his task is to stay by you and secure your safety. That is not going to change so I need you to accept that, quickly if possible.”

No one ever speaks to me that way and I have the sudden urge to smack him, but again, whether I like it or not, he is in control of the show and I am just one of his “houseguests.” My jaw clenches trying to hold back whatever condescending words wish to escape and fill the tight room.

“Reuben,” Issachar dashes through the plastic sheets covering the doorway and into the control room. “There’s an issue.”

Chapter 27

Issachar runs out of the room and I quickly follow him,  Max sits on the operating table, and Issachar sits back down onto a small stool. Reuben and Abel enter the medical room soon after I do both wild eyed and tense at the whisper of a possible issue.

“The chip has adhered to the bone. There’s no way for me to remove it like the others. I’ll need at least two hours to put him to sleep and drill into the bone,” he explains.

“We don’t have two hours. The next convoy is leaving in 10 minutes,” Reuben says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do in that timeframe, sir.” Issachar is noticeably nervous.

“Can you deactivate it without removal?” I ask, trying to stay calm and take the lead.

“No, the GPS can’t be mirrored unless we open the back, which is, like I said, adhered to his bone.”

“Dammit,” Reuben mutters and places his thumb and index finger against his temples.

“What if the chip was broken?” I ask. “Would that disable it?”

Reuben looks at Issachar, eagerly waiting his verdict. “Yeah, but only if it were shattered, and he would then be showed as offline. Meaning someone from the city center would be making a trip to your home in the next day or so for reinsertion and activation.”

Reuben glances at me. I narrow my eyes on Max’s forearm and exhale. My mind clears and without hesitation I know what needs to be done. “Break his arm.”

Max shoots his head up towards me. “What?” he yells, his voice cracking with fear. I walk towards him and take his hand in mine.

“Max, this needs to happen. Do you trust me?” His hazel eyes focus and I can tell that he doesn’t know how to answer that. “Listen, Max. You’re my kid brother, and that means that I’m meant to look after you. I love you and I wouldn’t offer this as a solution if it wasn’t the absolute only way that I could ensure your safety. Shoshanna will mend the bone as soon as we regroup. Which means I’ll need you to make it through the first security gate and the tunnels without allowing this to hinder you. Can you do that?”

Max takes a deep breath and his smart aleck disposition falls to pieces. It’s strange for me to see him so serious, so scared, without his smirk worn proudly as it usually is. “Yeah, okay, do it.”

I rub my hands into his arm, locating the chip just as Issachar did to me.

“Wait,” Issachar says from behind me, but I hear Abel mumble “No.” The footsteps stop, the room is quiet. I feel the chip and Issachar’s right, it is on the bone, immobile. I grip my left hand around his wrist tightly and he twists, instinctively trying to free himself. I lock my eyes on his and he stops. I angle his arm so that his elbow is propped against the surgical table, leaving his forearm exposed.

“Is this going to hurt badly?” Max asks.

I look up at him and nod. “Yes.” And with that I strike my palm down against my brother’s arm with so much force that his bone has no choice but to break at my will. Against my palm I feel the splinters of bone press against his flesh and rest on my skin. The cracks are loud and fierce and unapologetic for crushing the room’s silence. Max cries out in pain and I stay still, holding his shattered arm in my hands. Tears flow at ease from his eyes but the room stays silent and when I glance at Abel I expect him to shift his gaze in the uncomfortable air that surrounds us, but he doesn’t. He returns my stare and keeps it there until I turn to Reuben.

“Did that do the trick?” I ask. Reuben looks closely at the tablet and gives a thumbs up. “Issachar, get over here and wrap this up as securely as you can. Try to minimize the pain, stabilize the break but no pain killers, he needs to be alert.” As soon as his arm is in the care of Issachar, I place my hand on the back of Max's neck and brush his hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, Max.” He whimpers as Issachar begins to wrap and nods.

“This way, we need to leave,” Ben says, and I race back to the bunk room to grab my duffle. As I sling it over my back, the weight of it makes me hesitate when I remember the sprint that lies ahead. I pull it off of my shoulder and drop it on the hard mattress. Unzipping the cloth I quickly shovel through it looking for items that can be discarded. When I’m finished, clothes and spare shoes lay on the bed and all that remains in the bag are my charge, a photo of my family, and the journal that Judah gave me. It’s amazing the amount of things we tell ourselves we need, when really, in all actuality, we need very little to be at ease. I take the few items from the bed and opt for a small leather satchel hanging on the back of a chair in the hall. I sling it across my chest and say a quiet thanks to whoever’s bag I just swiped.

I run back through the war room and out the metal door that’s fixed with security cameras and into the wet tunnels. I retrace the turns we took to get here and am momentarily grateful for the photographic memory I was instilled with. I hear banter in the distance and push my body to cover the 90 yards of turns as quickly as possible until the group comes into sight and I take my place behind Eliath. Ben shuttles us outside and I scan the empty streets. Illuminated with a combination of a sickly green glow and the rising sun, my eyes fix to the only vehicle on the road.

“Wait a second. We’re taking an actual sanitation truck to the drop point?” I ask.

“Why? Does that surprise you?” Reuben asks.

“You’re an actual trash man?” I ask, and he nods laughing.

“Don’t knock it till you try it. I’m my own boss and get to rock out to speed metal all day long.”

I don’t know why it surprises me. From what little I know of him, Reuben is a straightforward man, and it would be strange to be delivered in any vehicle other than a sanitation truck. In all honesty, it’s sort of brilliant actually. Sanitation vehicles have clearance to the entire city, free to come and go as they please and raise little suspicion.

We pile into the truck and Reuben rattles off last minute instructions, basically a refresher for anyone who’s either forgotten anything or wasn’t paying attention during the initial briefing, while Max is secured into place.

“You’re not coming with us?” I say.

“Nah, my place is here. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Don’t get all sappy on me, little dove,” he says as he presses a green button to close the massive overhead door above us. Suddenly we are in complete darkness.

I sit against the cold metal curved walls of the truck, knocking and swaying as we travel through side streets and checkpoints. Thoughts of my mother and Sophie run through my mind as I stare at where I assume Max is still sitting across from me. My courage is constantly being beaten and broken by my practicality, by that small voice in my mind that wants to pin me down and yell,
How can you possibly get through this? You are weak
. And that’s exactly how I feel in this moment, knocking shoulders between Abel and Ben. I feel weak. I feel scared.

The ride is short, only a sector or two over, and quiet except for Max’s occasional cry. As we file out of the cargo hold, the driver points us in the direction that we are to walk. Scanning into the distance I spot our destination—straight into a guard shack.

As we approach the patrol I breathe deeply and pray that Max can hold it together and stick to the story we agreed on.

“Hey there,” the guard says. “What are you all doing walking around at this time of morning?”

Ben pushes forward past us and holds out his badge, clearly identifying his security clearance. “We had some car trouble a few miles back,” he says and waves his hand over his shoulder pointing behind us.

The guard squints trying to make out a vehicle to no avail. Little does he know, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his eyes, he’s simply searching for a phantom car. I suddenly realize that it’s no coincidence Ben is here with us—his military uniform goes a long way towards credibility. The guard stands there for a moment.

“Captain Joseph James is your brother, right?” he asks, pulling the scanner from his belt. Ben eyes the scanner and he and I both know that if the guard attempts to locate his chip, this plan will be over before we ever get a chance to try it. I search the landscape for a back up plan, resolving that if I absolutely need to I’m capable of grabbing Max and making a run for it. 

“Yea,” says Ben.

The guard shifts his weight, relaxing and igniting hope within me. “What’s he like? I mean, in real life, away from the cameras?” he asks, and Ben smiles.

“He’s pretty much exactly as you would expect him to be. Stoic. He’s a soldier through and through, you know?”

The guard laughs. “Yeah. Hey, you think you could get me a few minutes with him sometime? I’m dying of boredom at this checkpoint.”

Ben laughs and this time I know it’s genuine because up until a day ago, Ben’s life was identical to this soldier’s. “Oh, of course, man!”

“Awesome!” the guards squeaks. “I owe you one!”

My heart jumps at the opening and I pray that Ben takes the opportunity. “Actually, I could use some help,” Ben says. “I was supposed to have these citizens back into their sector a few hours ago, but, like I said, I ran into some car trouble.” Ben leans in towards the guard, insinuating that if we were scanned and logged, Ben may face repercussions.

The guard’s face lights up when Ben’s request clicks into place. “Ah, got it,” he says and looks at his tablet, as if it can offer up advice, and rocks on his heels. Eventually he nods. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” He repeats the phrase several times, self-affirming that his decision is the correct one. Ultimately he begins to wave us through but as I reach the post I’m hesitant to leave Max’s side. The guard stares at me in a way that feels completely uncomfortable and lasts too long but I ignore it and join the rest of the group on the other side. Finally Max approaches the guard.

“What happened here, son?” he says, examining Max’s arm.

“I broke it playing Lacrosse,” Max says and I look at the guard to see if he’s buying it.

“Lacrosse, eh? You play for Summit?”

“Yes, sir,” Max says.

“Not too good from the looks of it,” the guard retorts and laughs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sir. You should have seen the other guy.” Max keeps a straight face and as a cocky smile threatens to break through I pray the guard isn’t offended by how flippant my younger brother is. The guard stays silent, sizing Max up and then bursts into laughter, waving Max through the checkpoint.