The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) (20 page)

I stirred sometime later, and I realized I had fallen asleep on top of the covers. The lamp on my bedside table had gone out, but I knew it couldn’t be that late. My throat felt scratchy in the cold, dry air, and I got out of bed to get a glass of water.

The upstairs hallway was completely dark, and every door was closed except for Logan’s. I grinned, thinking she might have sneaked into Max’s room to sleep since it was one of our last nights there.

I tiptoed down the stairs, trailing my fingers along the wall and the banister to feel my way to the kitchen. My hands found the counter and then the sink. I was reaching into the cabinet for a glass when I heard muffled voices coming from the back of the house.
 

I recognized one of the voices as Logan’s, but she wasn’t talking to Max. The other voice belonged to a woman, and they were having a fight.

I crept toward the back door to the porch and felt a rush of cold air. The screen door was open, and the voices were coming from the short wooded path that ran between the farmhouse and the guesthouse. I strained my ears to listen.

“How can you even say that?” said Logan, her voice low and scathing. “You are in the same exact situation.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”
 

It was Mariah.
 

“Are you telling me that all your little rebel friends wouldn’t kill you if they knew?” Logan asked.

Why was she talking to Mariah?
Clearly they knew each other, which would explain Logan’s bizarre moment of panic at dinner.

“I think you underestimate me.” Mariah’s voice was calm — lethal.

“What would Rulon say?”

Mariah laughed — a cold, empty laugh that made me feel sick. “Rulon will say and do whatever I want him to. And the others will fall in line. Can you say the same for all your little friends? What would they do if they knew their favorite warrior princess was a traitor?”

My stomach contracted. This couldn’t be. This was Logan.

“They would understand,” Logan breathed. “I did what I had to do.”

“But how will they ever trust you again?”

There was a small scuffle. I squinted out into the darkness, straining to see. There was very little noise, but a second later, Logan had Mariah pinned up against a tree with a knife at her throat. That was a move she hadn’t taught me.
 

Logan looked more intense than I’d ever seen her. Her usually bouncy blond waves were pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she looked focused and unemotional.
 

Was the Logan I knew all an act?
The girl who yelled and cried and smiled and rolled her hair with Coke cans?

“Don’t — test me,” she hissed, pushing her forearm into Mariah’s throat. “And don’t forget I’ve always been faster than you.”

Mariah didn’t move and didn’t speak.

Logan took a long, drawn-out breath. “If this gets out, I’ll kill you myself.”

She released Mariah, who looked furious but unsurprised.

I backed slowly away from the door and out of the kitchen and bolted up the stairs in the dark two at a time. I snapped my door shut as quietly as I could and threw myself down on my bed, heart pounding in my ears.

I didn’t know what to do or what to think. I knew I should tell
someone
about what I had witnessed, but that felt like the deepest betrayal. No matter what Logan had done, I didn’t think she would do anything to put us in jeopardy. Mariah had been there for five seconds, and I already distrusted her. But what had she meant when she said Logan was a traitor? Logan would never betray us to the PMC, but what had she done that was so terrible she would kill to hide it?
 

I decided it didn’t matter. Logan was my friend — the best friend I had on the run. For now, I would keep her secret.

I woke the next morning to the sound of wailing coming from the kitchen. I took the stairs two at a time and found Ida bawling at the table. Max stood over her, spatula in hand, looking utterly terrified.

“I guess this is how it is when you have children,” Ida shrieked. “Day by day everything’s normal, and then one day they have to leave.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” said Max, stumbling over his words. “But we can’t exactly stay here . . .”

A fresh wave of sobs overtook her. “I know . . . I know. I feel terrible about that.”

Amory stood in the corner, arms crossed, looking as uneasy as I’d ever seen him.

“No, no, no. I’m just . . . being silly.” She hiccupped. “Please, don’t mind me. Of course you have to go!”

Max shot me a pleading look, utterly bewildered.

Seeing me standing in the doorway, Ida ushered me in with a sweeping gesture of the hand that wasn’t clutching the raggedy handkerchief she had blown her nose on. “Please, please, come in. Honestly, don’t pay any attention to me. I’ll just miss you all. So . . . so much.” And she was crying again.

Amory appeared at my elbow. “She’s been like this all morning,” he whispered. “We don’t know what
to do.”

I smiled. “She’ll be all right, I think. She’s just sad.”

Max materialized on my other side, pulling me toward the stove. “Help us!” he hissed.

“How is she going to keep the farm running without everyone here?” I asked.

Max shrugged. “She did it before we lived here. I think she has some old farmer buddies who came down here and helped out.”

“We should get everything in order for her before we leave,” said Amory.

Logan managed to get Ida up to bed, and we all spent the rest of the day frantically harvesting anything and everything that could be put away into storage. Even Roman pitched in to help. Despite all the excitement with the rebels arriving and the rest of us preparing to leave, he seemed utterly unaffected by everything that was going on. He was just as surly as usual, but he didn’t seem to care that he would be on his own.

Luckily, with winter approaching, there would be much less work to do in the gardens. Ida would mainly have to contend with the livestock until the PMC took over the farm. The thought made my stomach churn. If they didn’t want the land for farming, there was no telling what they would do with the animals.

 
In the afternoon, Logan and I made more candles and cleaned up the house the best we could. Most of the mess came from the stacks of new issues of
The Patriot
that were waiting to be sent out, so it was short work.

Ida pulled herself together by midafternoon, and she emerged from her room to make a run to the Exchange.
 

Still shaken from the emotional ordeal with Ida, Max retreated to the kitchen to bake some bread for the trip. I was helping him knead dough when Amory came in from lookout.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Oh sure,” Max snapped. “I’m sure whatever job you have for her is more important than
feeding
us on the way to Sector X. I guess if we run out of food, we can just go through the drive-thru.”

I shot him an apologetic look and slipped outside with Amory.

“What the hell is his problem?”
 

“I think he just feels bad for leaving Ida.”

Amory shook his head, utterly bewildered. I didn’t blame him. No matter how tense things got on the farm, Max was never angry or sarcastic.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Since we’re heading into Sector X, I thought you should squeeze in a little more training.”

After my first day learning how to disarm an attacker with Logan, she and Max had taken turns teaching me self-defense. Logan and I practiced hand-to-hand combat, and Max taught me how to use a throwing hatchet and a knife.
 

I hadn’t trained with Amory at all after my shooting lesson. The way he made me feel, I didn’t trust myself around him. My skin prickled with excitement, but my enthusiasm dropped significantly when I saw Roman waiting by the shed.

I looked sideways at Amory.

He shrugged, sensing my reluctance. “You held your own fighting with
Logan
. I think Roman can probably help you advance better than I can at this point. After her, he’s the best at close-quarters combat.”

My stomach lurched, remembering my last performance with Logan. She hit me so hard I blacked out for a second. I knew it wouldn’t be any easier with Roman; he wouldn’t hit lightly just because I was a woman.

Apparently, Roman didn’t like to waste time, either.
 

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he said as soon as we were within earshot. He was looking at me with a peculiar expression. Was he amused? I had never seen Roman amused before.

I felt a surge of affection for Amory when he handed me the throwing hatchet. He knew it was my best weapon, and he wanted me to start off strong.
 

I led the guys out to the target Amory had nailed to the lone tree, starting just about twelve feet back. I could feel Amory standing just feet behind me, while Roman slouched off to the side in my peripheral vision, arms crossed over his chest.

Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on the warmth of the well-worn wooden handle in my grip. I stepped into it and let it whip. It landed just a couple inches shy of the center of the target.
 

Interpreting Roman’s silence as him waiting to be impressed, I retrieved the weapon and made my way back to where I started, counting my paces.

Since my aim had not been perfect on the first throw, I should have stayed at twelve feet and tried again. But I knew I could do it better this time. I shuffled out to fifteen feet.

Step, step, release — whack!
 

This time my aim was true. My shoulder buzzed hot with exertion, but I felt satisfied with my throw. The look on Roman’s face was worth it. For a split second, his eyebrows shot up. Then he regained his usual half-interested look of reluctant satisfaction.

“Get closer,” he said.

“What?”

“Get in closer to the target. I want to see your close-range stopping power.”

I shuffled in to ten feet.
 

“Closer.”

I looked at Amory. Was he insane?

Amory nodded, but he looked as surprised as I was.

Roman stepped up between me and the tree and took the hatchet, slapping a slim dagger into my hand instead.

“Unless you’re sniping carriers from a tree, killing is usually up close and personal. Let’s see it.”

I was barely two yards away from the target. I adjusted my stance, stepped into it, and sank the blade with my throw.

He stepped up to the target and yanked out the knife with ease. “More force.”

I tried again, putting all my strength behind it. The blade sank deeper into the wood.
 

Again, Roman went to pull it out, but it was embedded deeply. Struggling, he finally freed the blade, looking satisfied.

“I hope you can fight as well as you throw.”

He took my silence for an answer.

“That’s what I thought.” He rolled his eyes. “Amory. Come at her.”

I wheeled around and opened my mouth to protest. Amory was still recovering from his stab wound, but there was no time.
 

Amory looked taken aback but blundered at me with an uncharacteristically awkward amount of hesitation.

“Uh oh,” said Roman with a smirk, tossing and catching my knife carelessly in his left hand. “Rule number one: don’t lose your weapon.”

This was a test, and neither of them thought I could do it. Without thinking, I threw a punch at Amory’s face. He seemed surprised but was still quick enough to catch my fist in his larger hand.

Wincing, he pulled my arm down, twisting it painfully until he had forced my arm behind my back.

I cried out and slammed my foot down on his instep as hard as I could — just as Logan and I had practiced. Amory groaned and tightened his grip. He wrapped his arms around me, pinning my arms at my sides and immobilizing me.

My mind was racing. I couldn’t throw him off me; he was too heavy and too strong. I lowered my center of gravity and widened my stance. I twisted one of his fingers — breaking the link in his hold as Logan had taught me — and brought my fist around to collide with his head.

He ducked and grabbed my arm. “Nice try,” he breathed.

I twisted into him and swung my elbow up to knock him across the face, but it was much more difficult to shake him off. He was too strong.

He wrapped an arm around my neck to restrain me, and I jabbed my elbow into his abdomen — the side opposite his stab wound.

He grunted in pain but did not release me.

“Stop. Stop! This is too pathetic to watch,” said Roman.

Amory let me go, and I coughed.

He shifted awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“The only way you’ll stand a chance against a full-grown man is by being faster than him. You’ve got to have the element of surprise.”

“I’m trying!”

“No, you’re not. You’re letting him anticipate your moves. And what’s with the half-assed jabs? He can take it.”

Amory shot Roman a look. “She’s doing fine.”

“Better than you, anyway! What the hell was that? It looked like a bear hug from here. She’s only going to learn if it’s realistic.”

Amory and I looked at each other.
 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “Your wound —”

Amory cocked his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Again!” yelled Roman.

This time, Amory charged at me so quickly I had no time to dodge him. He yanked me around so fast my head began to spin. No hesitation this time, I jerked my elbow back into his spleen. Buckling and loosening his grip slightly from the shock, I took the opportunity to throw my weight forward and down, bringing Amory with me.

It wasn’t an over-the-head body slam like the movies, but he lost his balance, and I was free.

“Good!” yelled Roman. I saw the flash of my blade between his meaty fingers, and he tossed it to me. “Finish him.”

My hand, detaching completely from my brain, reached out and caught the handle. I shivered, imagining my hand slicing open if he had missed.

I twisted around, ready to mock-stab Amory, but his hand caught my wrist. Suddenly, I remembered our first encounter.