Resist (18 page)

Chapter Twenty

Thursday Noon: Three Days After Escape

We meet in a rest stop along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It's been three days since we busted out of the camp, and we haven't managed to leave the state. In all the scenarios I envisioned, including utter failure to get away, I never once imagined we'd still be within Pennsylvania's boundaries by our own choosing.

It's as though an invisible rope connects me to the camp, to Malone and Fitzpatrick, and for every step I take to get away, the rope tightens, yanking me back.
I will break you,
I tell it.
I swear.

But first I might have to strangle someone at the camp with it.

I hope I have the energy to do it when the time comes. In fact, I hope I have the energy to simply make the right decision about what to do next. The lack of decent sleep is catching up with me.

While it was lovely to curl up with Kyle last night, neither of us slept much. I drifted in and out of unconsciousness, Malone's me
ssage and fears for Audrey and others weighing on my mind. Kyle did the same, though he pretended to sleep like I did. Presumably, he pretended for my sake like I pretended for his.

As a result, my eyes are dry and raw when I pull into the rest stop parking lot. Thanks to our low energy, Kyle and I talked very little on the way here. But then, there isn't much to say. We both have reached our decisions. The only question that remains is what the rest of my unit is thinking, and I'll find that out soon enough.

I shut off the engine and stare blindly into the lot. The sky is overcast, the temperature is hovering around freezing, and the scene is depressing. So many people are on the move. So many are happily oblivious to all the secrets in the world.

I take a moment to envy their ignorance, then I push the emotion aside. Because I don't envy them, not really. I'd rather have my eyes open and all the disturbing knowledge that comes with it than not. I guess it was prescient of me when I chose the name Sophia, with its root coming from the word for knowledge, as my secret alias years ago.

“You okay?” Kyle asks.

I toss him a sardonic expression and remove my hands from the steering wheel.

“Yeah, okay. Dumb question, sorry.” He opens the door, and the blast of cold air gets my blood moving.

We bring our backpacks into the rest stop, leaving nothing behind. It doesn't sound like we need to fear another RedZone attack, but I'd rather be safe and keep our few possessions close.

The aroma of greasy fast food clings to the building exhaust, and it scents the air before we enter. Inside, it's crowded with travelers stopping for lunch and kids darting about underfoot in their puffy jackets, mittens flying. Everything is done up in sadly cheap Christmas tinsel and plastic wreaths except for a lone Hanukah display by the coffee station. I'm pretty certain Hanukah ended yesterday, but no one's bothered to take it down. I kind of wonder if anyone actually knows it's there.

Kyle comes to an abrupt stop as two teens cut in front of him. “People,” he says under his breath.

“Lots of them.” I grab his hand. “Let's go talk about helping some.”

With more effort than should be required, we traverse the maze of hungry and irritable travelers and enter the seating area. The rest stop appears to have recently been renovated, providing power stations for charging devices at each table and electronic menus for ordering food. A staircase in the center leads to a second floor of seating.

“Do you see them?” Kyle asks.

I glance to the second floor and catch a glimpse of Summer's boot at a table barely within my line of sight. “Always look up.”

Kyle shoulder-butts me. “I remember you saying something about that once.”

We traipse upstairs and discover my unit has taken over two tables in what could euphemistically be described as the most private area in the rest stop. An assortment of food and drinks covers nearly every inch.

“We didn't know what you'd want,” Gabe says. “So we ordered some of everything.”

I'm tempted to remind him of the practicality of making our money last. Then I recall what I'm planning to do and realize it doesn't matter. “I'm not sure I'm hungry.”

“Yes, you are.” Cole pushes food my way. “You know better than to neglect to eat.”

“A fed soldier has more energy to fight than a hungry one,” Jordan says, repeating another Fitzpatrick-ism.

I roll my eyes. “Thirty-one variations on the theme whenever I sulked and picked at the disgusting meal we were served.”

“You counted them?” Kyle apparently agrees with Fitzpatrick's logic because he grabs a burger for himself.

“I didn't have to.”

Conversation pauses while everyone takes a few bites of their food. Jordan keeps throwing me meaningful looks, then glancing at Kyle. Not in the mood to discuss our relationship status, I kick her under the table.

“So,” I say when I've eaten enough to quell Cole's concern for my biological needs. “Malone made his move. It's time for me to make mine.”

I'm careful to leave the others out of it with my phrasing. Although Malone's message implied he wanted all of us to turn ourselves in, I'm not convinced that's necessary to get him to release the cure. What impetus do my unit members have to go along with his demands? RTC students are strangers to them. Their consciences might bother them if they don't do it, but a strong, rational case could be made for why it's better if they refuse.

If they don't turn themselves in, they can continue working to take down Malone and The Four. The choice, therefore, is one of those awful ones about the good of many versus the good of a few. I couldn't blame them for taking the logical option, despite being too illogical and emotional to do it myself.

But that's beside the fact. I doubt Malone expects them to surrender.

No, his threat is directed mainly at me and Kyle. We're the only ones he can assume would turn ourselves in for people at RTC. Perhaps it's not even me he's as concerned about as it is Kyle. After all, how many years and resources did RedZone spend on finding him? To have had Kyle and lost him must grate on Malone's nerves as much as, if not more than, our escape. Especially when Malone still has half our unit at the camp. Not a single one of us is as important as Kyle is.

And Kyle knows it. “Not you, Hernandez. Me.”

“Kyle.” I drop my hand to the table. Okay, maybe we should have discussed our plans more in the car, after all. Then we wouldn't have to argue now. “You're not going back alone.”

“Malone's most interested in me. We all know it. And if I go back by myself, we have a bargaining chip if Malone refuses to undo what he did at RTC.”

Cole taps a finger against the table. “A bargaining chip?”

“I'm sure he'd love to have you back too.” Kyle shrugs. “But if he doesn't fix his mess, why would you return?”

Jordan shakes her head. “Not going to work, mutant. You can't bargain with him that way. You don't know these people like we do. What they're capable of.”

“Really? Until a couple days ago, I was under the impression that you didn't know them either.”

Jordan scowls. “I always knew enough to know better than to trust a word that came out of their mouths, and I don't see any reason to change that opinion. Turning yourselves in isn't going to do shit to help your friends. We'll help them only by taking down RedZone.”

Kyle crumples his burger wrapper in frustration. “I'm not disagreeing, but these are my friends. I get it—they're not yours. That's why I'm not asking any of you to do this with me.” He stares hard at me as he says the last bit.

“If you think I'm going to let you waltz back into the camp alone, after everything I did to try to save you from it in the first place…” I have no words to continue the empty threat. Kyle's situation, and Audrey's situation, and that of six other students, is all my fault. If anyone deserves to be the sacrificial soldier here, it's me.

Jordan points at me. “If you're under the impression that I'm going to let
you
go back, forget it. Don't think the rest of us can't take you down if you make us.”

“Then hold her back while I leave,” Kyle says over my protests.

Above, “Frosty the Snowman” starts playing through the speakers, and I can't take it anymore. I smash my fist into the remains of my burger. The cheerful atmosphere has gotten on my last nerve. It's amazing I held it together this long.

The violence of my silent outburst hushes the table. All I hear for a blissful moment is the damn song and the clatter of trays and undecipherable voices.

Then Cole clears his throat. “Malone had a meeting planned.”

Sighing, I wipe my hand off on a paper napkin. “I'm not following. A meeting? What does this have to do with anything?”

His hazel eyes meet mine, and they're filled with trepidation. “You're not going to like this. Catching Kyle was the coup Malone has been attempting to accomplish since he discovered Kyle was alive. Malone very badly wants to find a way to reverse-engineer what Kyle's mother did to him, and he wants to convince the others he works with that it should be their top priority too.”

“I am so special.” Kyle grimaces.

“You are. So special that Malone had arranged for a live demonstration with his colleagues.” Cole trips over the term. “I didn't know who these people were before, but thanks to what Sophia shared the other day, I know they're The Four. The other three, I mean. Some of their wealthiest and most valued clients might be there too.”

Gabe snorts. “You mean terrorist groups and criminals.”

“Probably, but they were called clients and colleagues in front of me.”

Of course they were. Cole's right—I don't like this, and it's obvious where he's going. “This meeting only happens if Malone can have his live demonstration with Kyle. So you
want
Kyle to turn himself in.”

Cole seems to brace himself before answering me. “Do you have any idea how infrequently these people get in a room together? We have a very limited window of opportunity to take down the organization's biggest players all at once. If we're going to destroy them, it might be our best bet.”

“And all Kyle has to do is sacrifice himself.”

“I was willing anyway,” Kyle says in a low voice.

I grunt in response, no longer capable of speech.

“Seriously, Cole.” Gabe leans forward. “How do you know these things? I had no idea how much Malone's been telling you.”

“I was supposed to be getting trained for leadership.” Cole shrugs self-consciously.

Kyle smacks the table a few times with his burger wrapper in agitation. “Which is why you're so loyal, right? Enough that you'd betray your friends for Malone?”

Summer and I wince, and Jordan mutters “not this again” under her breath.

“Kyle.” I reach out to touch him, but he shifts farther away from me.

“Would you think about it? It's like him and Malone are playing good cop, bad cop. Malone threatens us, then Cole dangles a carrot in front of you. Both are pushing you, or me, to the same end. You wonder why you should trust Malone? I wonder why you should trust him.” Kyle gestures to Cole. “That he's just bringing this up now is so convenient. What proof does he have that it's true?”

Maybe it's because I've reached my breaking point, or maybe I can't overcome my training any longer. I'm supposed to be suspicious, verging on paranoid, and Kyle's been making sound arguments for a while. The denial that shrouds my brain is made of steel, but it's finally rusting away. Doubts are creeping in.

I swallow. “Cole, why didn't you mention this a couple days ago when we talked about bringing down RedZone?” My words contain no accusation, and neither does my tone, but the question itself quiets the table. I'm acknowledging that Kyle has a point.

Surprise flashes over Cole's face, then is replaced by resignation. “Because we're not ready to take them down this way. It's not ideal. But if Kyle was considering surrendering anyway, I thought we might want to take advantage of the opportunity.”

Ha, see? The wall of denial has a voice, and it screams at me,
Cole makes perfect sense. You were wrong to doubt him.

But Kyle can't let it go. “I still don't see why we should trust you. You don't have any proof about this meeting. And how will you know when it happens or where or how to take advantage of it?”

“Because I'll go back with you and find a way to pass on the intel.”

“You can't really believe Malone will hand that sort of high-level intel over to you,” Octavia says, breaking her long silence. “Especially not after you ran. He'll toss you in a holding cell.”

“No, he won't.” Cole's entire face hardens. “Because Kyle is right. Malone sent me to help you escape. I was his backup plan if you managed to lose the chase teams.”

The world hits pause, or so it seems. I feel as though the rest stop has been sucked dry of oxygen. My body is actually collapsing into itself as the breath flees my lungs. I open my lips, try to speak and fail.

Nor am I alone in this. The shock is a tangible thing around the table, and I'm quite confident the others are as dumbstruck as I am.

All except Kyle, who hasn't trusted Cole since the beginning. Regardless of his reasons, Kyle is the only person who doesn't appear to be a shadow of himself in this moment. He wisely says nothing, his expression doesn't even gloat. But he hardly has to. None of us are stupid. We know he's been right all along.

Right. Kyle has been right. I repeat it a few times in my head.

He was right because Cole has betrayed us. Our family was compromised by the one person in it who I'd thought would be incorruptible. My fearless fucking leader. The boy who made me believe I was as smart and strong and capable as he is. The boy who kissed me, in defiance of our orders, deep in the woods.