Enemy Inside (Defectors Trilogy) (19 page)

Greyson snorted. “Gee, you think? This place just got mauled by a hundred carriers, and the PMC is closing in on the largest rebel camp in the country. I think we’re past all that.”

Right on cue, Ida breezed in the tent, holding a tray with three steaming bowls of stew, a pitcher of water, and half a loaf of bread. Her eyes flitted to Logan automatically and then did a double take.

“Oh my Lord!” Her face lit up. “You’re awake!”
 

Since I was the only one in a half-upright position, Ida shoved the tray into my lap and collapsed on the side of Logan’s bed.

“Oh, sweetheart! I was so worried!” She bent and kissed her forehead, reflexively wiping the area for lipstick with her thumb even though she wasn’t wearing any.

Logan smiled and looked over at Greyson sprawled on the cot next to her with his blood still flowing.

“Greyson, I presume?”

He nodded warily, unsure what to say, and Ida chuckled in delight and pulled him into her bosom.

“Ooh, so good to finally meet you! I’m so happy you’re safe! It was all Haven could think about, saving you.”

Greyson made a muffled noise of assent, face still buried in Ida’s fleshy shoulder.
 

She thrust him away, positively beaming, with one hand still squeezing his arm. “I’ll get Shriver and have her unhook you two. She’s running Amory ragged over there.”

Ida disappeared, and a very irritable Shriver appeared. “I’d nearly forgotten about you,” she muttered to herself.

Greyson threw me a panicked look and winced as Shriver bent to fiddle with his arm. He tried to hide his pained expression from Logan, but I could see how ashen he had gone. Watching Shriver remove the tube, even I had to suppress a gag.

“You owe this young man your life,” Shriver murmured to Logan as she bandaged Greyson. “If he hadn’t shown up, I don’t think you would have made it.”

“I know,” said Logan with a weak smile.

Greyson grinned and sat up abruptly, reaching over to grab a bowl of the hot stew. But the moment he moved, he looked as though he regretted it. “Whoa.”

“Well, slow down!” Shriver snapped, rolling her eyes and shuffling over to her corner of the med tent. “Have some sugar.” She shoved a package of Oreos into Greyson’s lap. “You’ve given a lot of blood. You’re going to be woozy.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” Greyson muttered defensively, crunching on an Oreo from his inclined position while Shriver patched up Logan’s arm.

“How many PMC officers were there?” I asked.

“Dunno. Probably fewer men than we had, but they were better trained. And they kept sending in reinforcements. If we’re lucky, they’ll think that was all of us.”

“Not many of us left,” snapped Shriver.

“How many were killed?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost eighteen injured so far. Nothing I could do for them.” Her syllables were sharp and clipped, but I could detect the grief and helplessness there, too.

When she was finished, she helped Logan sit up and went to check on the man covered in bandages. I handed her a bowl of stew and watched her spoon it out tentatively.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Like a carrier took a bite out of me.”

I finally voiced a thought that had been plaguing me since the attack. “There’s something different about these carriers, don’t you think?”

Greyson sat up slowly. “What do you mean?”
 

“They’re stronger — faster. They even seem smarter. Do you remember the ones from Saint Drogo’s in the riots?” I asked.

Greyson set down the package of cookies and reached for a bowl of stew. “I mean, yeah, but most of those were stage four, and they were locked up for such a long time.”

“Maybe. But the carrier who almost killed me . . . he still had that human look in his eyes. It was like he knew what he was doing. And the other ones I fought . . . they were way too strong.”

Logan chewed on a hard piece of bread crust thoughtfully. “Maybe the virus is mutating. That happens.”

“If it is, then we have a much bigger problem. How do we know the vaccine will work if it’s mutated?”

“We don’t know if it works at all,” Greyson snapped. “The PMC has fed us so many lies.”

“But I’ve never gotten the virus, and I’ve come in contact with plenty of carriers.”

He shrugged, and I felt a cold vise clamp around my chest. We had to get Greyson out of here before he contracted the virus — if he hadn’t already.

The tent flap opened, letting in a gust of cold wind and a flurry of snow. Amory stepped inside, looking weary. He sank down on the edge of my bed, and I handed my bowl with the last bit of stew to him.

“Well, hello to you, too,” said Logan.

Amory jumped, nearly spilling the stew all over his pants. A grin broke across his face. “Good to see you’re alive.”

Examining Amory’s bruised and bloodied face, I noticed several wounds that weren’t there before.

“Did you get in a fistfight with the PMC?”

He looked sheepish. “No.”

“These weren’t there before,” I said, tracing the most pronounced bruise.

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“This sucks,” he said, ladling out a lump of pinkish chicken from the bowl.

“Don’t change the subject.”
 

He sighed, eyes darting guiltily to the side. “I may have gotten into it with Jared.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s not like you,” said Logan.

I threw her a dirty look. Chastising Amory for aggression that he couldn’t control wasn’t what he needed right now.

“How come?”

He shrugged, and I thought maybe it was best to let it drop. “What’s going on out there?” I asked.
 

“Regrouping, I think. Trying to see how many able-bodied people we have left who can fight off the PMC.”

We fell silent, listening to the wind howling outside. At least the PMC would be unlikely to launch an attack in this weather. Its officers weren’t accustomed to fighting the elements the way the rebels were.
 

Suddenly, nearby voices cut through the wind. I recognized one as Ida’s immediately. We all fell silent, listening intently.

“Be reasonable. You have much bigger problems to worry about. None of these people have been vaccinated. An outbreak at a time like this would cripple —”

“My camp is not your concern.”
 

The second voice belonged to Rulon.

“I’m just saying it would be best to be on the move as soon as possible. It’s not the PMC or the afflicted you need to worry about.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying the PMC is taking its orders from someone you might not have thought of.”

“Who then?”

“Aryus Edric.”

The four of us sat there, listening intently to Ida and Rulon arguing.

“That’s ridiculous,” Rulon scoffed. “Why would Aryus —”

“Why?” asked Ida. “He’s the one who stands to benefit from all of this.”

“The Private Military Company is its own entity gone rogue.”

“Who’s giving the orders, then? I know you blew up every general they had in the riots.”

“So they’ve appointed a new general.”

“The riots didn’t even faze the PMC. Why do you think that is? It’s just the military branch of a much larger entity.”

“World Corp International owns the PMC?” Rulon let out a harsh, guttural laugh.

“Is that so hard to believe? They distribute the food, they made the largest campaign donations for years before the Collapse, and their scientist developed the vaccine. Every breakthrough agricultural, pharmaceutical, and tech product in the last decade has come from World Corp International.”

“What would World Corp stand to gain? The country is overrun. Everyone has migrated north.”

“Well, for one thing, people paid for the vaccine. And now they’re building a new life in the north. I can think of a few ways World Corp could profit from that. Have any of us actually seen what it’s like up there?”

Rulon was silent for several seconds. Finally he spoke again, but with much less resolve. “That doesn’t change our strategy. If we continue to push back against the PMC, we will begin to make a dent. Another riot like the ones in Sector X would devastate their ranks. I won’t discuss this again.”

“Then let’s discuss relocation. This place is contaminated. Almost all the survivors are unvaccinated. There’s going to be an outbreak, and when it happens, we’ll all be sitting ducks for the PMC. How long do you think it will take them to find this camp? A day? A week?”

“You’ve got some nerve,” snarled Rulon. “You barge into my camp and start delivering orders when you’ve been cowering on your farm for the last year.”

I tensed, anger flaring inside me.
 

“I’m not giving orders,” said Ida. “I’m just sharing what I know . . . and sharing my concern. Your ranks took a hard hit today, and I’m willing to join forces. But I will not put my people in danger by sitting around waiting to be found or for those dead people to befoul the water supply when the snow melts.”

“Leave, then,” Rulon said in a deadly whisper. “Take a few days to regroup. Then get out of my camp.”
 

Rulon’s footsteps faded away, and I glanced across the tent to Logan and Greyson, who looked serious.

“Ida’s right,” I whispered. “We need to leave.”

Amory nodded. “Rulon’s stubborn. He would get us all killed before agreeing to retreat.”

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as Logan is well enough to move, I say.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” Logan whispered. “Do you think World Corp International is really behind all this?”

“I don’t know. How much do they control?”

“Everything,” said Greyson. “I went to a bunch of protests against them before the Collapse. They’ve been involved in every major corporate disaster of the last few years. They built those oil pipelines that exploded. They had to recall Deleseltric because it caused cancer. They manufacture almost every tech product you can buy. They’re the largest food distributor in the country. They’ve been linked to everything from E. coli outbreaks to mad cow disease to predatory crops.”

We all fell silent as the weight of the information sank in. It wasn’t clear to me
why
they would own the PMC — I just knew it seemed very likely, given everything else they controlled.

Amory and Greyson went off to wash away the blood and grime from battle, and Logan and I were left alone in the medical tent, listening to the sounds of ragged breathing coming from the beds nearest us.
 

“What about all of them?” I whispered. “They might all die.”

Logan shrugged. “Some of them would rather die than leave Rulon. I haven’t seen anything like it since the PMC. He’s got these people completely brainwashed.”

“Where will we go?”

“Anywhere. As far away from Sector X as we can get.”

“I always thought it was smart . . . hiding under the PMC’s nose, stealing food from Sector X. But now it seems like a terrible place to be.”

Logan sighed. “They’re still dependent on the system that failed them in the first place. It’s putting food in our mouths every day.”

“What do you think they do with prisoners now? Chaddock, Waul, Saint Drogo’s . . . they were all destroyed in the riots.”

“I think they kill anyone who disagrees with them. Who’s to stop them? Not the U.S. government.”

It was an uneasy thought. Whoever was giving the PMC its orders, that entity was now completely in control. There was no question of that anymore.

Soon, the sound of Logan’s breathing became slow and even, and I knew she had fallen asleep. I felt a pang of worry. Her injuries had taken a toll. How long would it take her to recover from such a massive blood loss? How long before we could be on the move?

The tent flap opened, and Ida blew in with a gust of wind.
 

“How is she doing?” she whispered.

“We’re coming with you,” I said. “Please, let us come with you.”

Ida nodded. “As soon as she’s well. And the sooner the better, really. I have overstayed my welcome here.”

“And the others?”

“Leaving with anyone will devastate Rulon’s ranks, but I think it’s only right to offer everyone a choice. I’m not sure anyone will want to come.” She laid a warm, motherly hand on the top of my foot, which was covered in blankets. “It’s dangerous to let anyone else make your choices for you, Haven. Never forget that. Following blindly leaves you blind.”

She left, and Amory returned carrying a rifle. His hair was damp, and he was pale and shivering, but he looked clean and much less worse for the wear.

“Greyson’s sleeping. I think the fighting wore him out.”

As he set his rifle on the floor and sank down next to me, I felt my heart speed up. “You should go back, too,” I said.

He looked hurt.

“You should rest,” I added. “You’ve had a long day.”

“I can’t rest when they’re out there. I’m not leaving you in here unprotected. Ida was right. How long do you think it will take for them to find this place now that they’ve gotten so close?”

“They won’t try again — not in this storm.”

“Maybe not.”

Lying back against my pillow, he threaded his fingers through mine. His knuckles were bruised with lots of small cuts across the tops, but his warm fingers were gentle. I became very aware of every part of our bodies that were touching, and I tried to slow my breathing.

“Is this okay?” Amory asked. He turned his face to me, and I could see the seriousness coming through his expression of longing. “I’ll go if you want me to. I don’t expect you to trust me after what happened this morning . . . and with Jared. You don’t have to be scared, but you don’t have to trust me, either.”

“I do trust you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m getting it under control.”

I threw him a dubious look.

He laughed. “No, really. This morning, the rage took over, and I felt . . . blind. When Jared started running his mouth out there, I hit him because I just felt like he deserved it.”

“What was he saying?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”