The Last Uprising (Defectors Trilogy) (14 page)

Amory looked momentarily shocked. “And what do you feel now?”

I shook my head, lost for words. I didn’t care that I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. This wasn’t
about
him, yet he was angry at me for things I couldn’t control.

He looked hurt but swallowed it down and walked away, leaving me standing in the snow.

Twenty minutes later, we’d left the chaos of camp behind and were piling into a rusted old Jeep concealed in the woods.
 

Roman sat in the passenger seat and spread his legs luxuriously, while the rest of us squeezed into the back together. Logan was sitting in Greyson’s lap blushing furiously, and Amory was jammed against the door on my other side wearing a stony expression. It wasn’t as though we could avoid touching, and the entire right side of my body was ablaze with heat where it was pressed against his.

Godfrey climbed into the driver’s seat, grumbling something indiscernible about PMC roadblocks, and coaxed the engine to life. He kept his eyes in the rearview mirror as he pulled away, and I knew he was thinking of Ida and the commune dwellers we were leaving to their own devices.

“Don’t know
what
she was thinking,” Roman said aloud to the quiet car.

I stared at him, startled.

“If she takes them to one of the communes, how long do you think it will be before they crawl back into their hole?”

“They’re scared,” said Logan. “They don’t know any different, and now they’re in danger. It’s a lot to take in.”

Roman shifted in his seat, thrusting his thighs out even wider. “They’re cowards.”

“You’re one to talk,” snapped Logan.

He let out an irritated huff. “Not this again.”

“Well maybe if you don’t want it brought up again, you should lay off people who made the best decision they thought was right at the time. Maybe they had families.”

“Yeah, I had a family, too . . . once.”

Logan leaned back with a huff. “So did I. They’d be considered among those ‘cowards’ you were talking about.”

“Ladies, please,” said Godfrey in a lazy drawl. “I can’t listen to your bickering all the way to Missouri.” He met Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “He wasn’t trying to insult your family.” Godfrey threw a sidelong look at Roman. “You. Stop antagonizing her.”

“Why are we going back to the farm if we know it’s occupied?” asked Amory suddenly.

“We’re going there because Ida believes it will be the strongest position for the movement.”

“I think she just wants us to take her home back from the PMC.”

Godfrey’s expression went dark. “Do you make the decisions around here?”

Amory’s eyes flickered away, plainly irritated but unwilling to argue with Godfrey.

“Did it ever occur to you that Ida knows what she’s doing?” asked Godfrey. “Did you ever consider that the commune people could be the best to coax others into leaving the communes, even if they’re scared shitless? Do you think maybe Ida has connections in Missouri . . . that she knows the area . . . that the farm is defensible?”

Amory was staring out the window, sulking for being told off, but I was listening intently. I was fascinated by the rebels’ strategy and eager to know what they would do next. World Corp seemed unshakable, but Ida was undeterred. She had a plan.

“So how are we crossing the border?” asked Greyson. “Don’t you think they’ll recognize us after last time?”

Godfrey guffawed. “Honestly, I doubt it. But Ida seems to think they’re smarter than they let on. And after the carrier breach, they’re going to be tightening security — mostly on inbound traffic. In any case, we’re taking the stealth approach.”

We pulled onto a small back road that hadn’t been plowed, the Jeep making slow progress on the snow-covered gravel. We drove in silence for nearly an hour, winding through the trees and passing long stretches of farmland, before pulling onto another county road. This road seemed to take us deeper into the woods, but it was slightly smoother.

Finally, Godfrey slowed to a stop and jumped out of the Jeep. He opened the tailgate, grabbed a pair of bolt cutters from the cargo area, and slammed the door shut.
 

I watched him warily in the side mirror as he stepped into the tree line. There was a narrow path obstructed by snow with a chain link barrier draped across.
 

Godfrey cut it easily, got back in the Jeep, and pulled onto the path. The engine groaned as we plowed through the snow, and we shifted around on the uneven terrain.

“Where are we going?” asked Logan. She looked nervous.

“To the border fence.”

I glanced at Amory, but his face was unreadable. The off-road path seemed to narrow the farther we drove.

“They built these service roads so people could access the controllers for the electric fence that seals the border. But no one’s been to this one for a while.”

“You want us to climb an electric fence?” asked Greyson, looking alarmed.

Godfrey snorted. “No. Hell, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Godfrey stopped the Jeep and killed the engine. Logan and Greyson stared into the trees with apprehension, but Amory pushed the door open and half fell out of the Jeep. I ignored the sting at his haste to get away from me and followed, looking around for the fence.

I heard it before I saw it. In the relative stillness of the snow-covered trees, I could discern a faint humming of electricity. Then, as I squinted, the metal grid came into view. It rose up out of the snow, eight feet tall with barbed wire curling at the top.

“Are there cameras?” whispered Logan.

Godfrey shook his head. “Not here. But there are sensors that will be triggered as soon as this part of the grid goes down. That’s why we’ll need to hurry.”

He walked off to the left, and we followed at a distance. My ears were piqued for any sound other than our footsteps, but my heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything else. I was sure the PMC had eyes and ears this close to the border, and I was just waiting for them to swoop down on us.

Suddenly Godfrey stopped, and I knew he had found what he was looking for: a huge metal box mounted on a fence post. It was locked. He rummaged in his pocket and drew out a small square of black plastic. He slapped it on the door, and a tiny light blinked red.

“Clock starts now,” said Godfrey.
 

I ducked away from the box instinctively, and the others did the same. There was a faint beep — then nothing.
 

Then a loud
bang
cracked the door off its hinges, making the metal hum like a tuning fork. Godfrey approached the box tentatively and reached inside.

“As soon as a section of the fence goes down, the PMC will be on high alert,” he grunted, his voice echoing in the metal box. He withdrew a screwdriver from his pocket and began prying something away from the back panel.

My heart pounded harder as he worked, and I waited with bated breath. After a few moments, Godfrey stepped away, shooting a look at Roman.
 

“This section is down, but we don’t have a lot of time. They have a fail-safe. When a section loses power for more than three minutes, the system restarts itself automatically.”

“So —” Logan started.

“So we have three minutes before either the PMC shows up or we get electrocuted.”

Logan threw me a panicked look, and Roman hunched down near the bottom of the fence and began cutting away the wire. He cut about a foot and a half up the fence and pulled it aside.

“We’re leaving the Jeep?” asked Greyson in alarm.

“Unless you think you can fit it through that hole in less than three minutes,” Godfrey grumbled.

Needing no further instruction, Greyson pushed Logan forward, and she crawled on her hands and knees through the hole Roman had made. It was a fairly tight fit. Greyson shoved her bag through and went in next.

“Hold this for me, will ya?” said Godfrey to Roman. Roman held the wire fencing up, and Godfrey got down on his elbows like a soldier in the trenches and shimmied through the opening. Roman followed, pulling his rucksack behind him.

“Get the guns,” snapped Godfrey.

Amory grabbed the crate and shoved it toward the hole, but it was too big. I hunkered down next to him with the bolt cutters, struggling to cut through the thick wire. My hands hurt, but I cut away two more squares, and Amory shoved the crate through ahead of him. I tossed his rucksack through the hole and got down to follow. The others had disappeared into the trees.

The snow seeped through my pant leg as I got down on the ground, and I ducked my head low to avoid catching my hair in the wire. My upper body was through, and I dug my elbows into the mud as Godfrey had done. But as I pushed my legs off the ground for leverage, I felt myself get yanked backward.
 

I twisted to free myself, but something was caught in the wire — my jacket. I tried to reach back to extricate whatever was caught, but I couldn’t fit my arm between my body and the fence.

I yanked myself forward, which only caused the piece of wire to dig into my skin.

I pulled again, wincing as the wire cut deeper. I tried to shimmy out of my coat, but the fence was flush with my shoulder blades, restricting my range of motion. I couldn’t move.

My chest heaved as I panicked, but my lungs couldn’t expand fully.

I could no longer see the others.

“Help!” I yelled.
How long had it been?
I knew I couldn’t have more than a minute before the system restarted.
 

“Help!” I shouted, louder this time.

No one was coming.

Then I heard a rustle in the trees, and Amory appeared, looking terrified.

“Come on!” he yelled, eyes darting around me.
 

“I can’t! I’m caught!”

I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: I had only seconds before I would be electrocuted.

His eyes went dark with fear, and he lunged forward, putting his hand on my back to feel where my coat was caught.

“Hurry!” I yelled. The tears were burning in my throat. I didn’t want Amory to get electrocuted, too.

He let out a breath of frustration as he tried to free me.

“Just go,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t want you to —”

“I’m not leaving you,” he growled in his throat. His sharp gray eyes were darting furiously from my coat to the fence to the woods behind me. I knew he was watching for approaching PMC.

“Go!” I yelled. “Now!”

I could hear the sirens in the distance. They were coming.

Amory made a noise of anger in his throat and put his arms around me, gripping my upper body. In one fast motion, he pulled, freeing me from the fence in a rip of fabric. I fell on top of him, and he fumbled to pull us both to our feet.
 

“Run!”

As we flew through the trees, my heart was beating so hard in my throat that I couldn’t breathe. The shriek of PMC sirens was growing louder, the flashing blue lights inching toward us through the bare branches. I didn’t stop.

Then I caught my ankle in a snarl of underbrush and pitched forward. My elbows screamed as they scraped the dirt, but the rest of my body was still pulling me forward. Before I could right myself, Amory yanked me to my feet, and we were running.

When Godfrey and the others saw us careening toward them, they took off, too. As we ran, I barely noticed the cold wind on my face or the way Amory’s hand was clutching mine.
 

Something jogged my memory as my legs found their cadence, and I had a flash of us running away from an exploding building.
 

I could practically smell the burnt plastic on the air and feel the warm ash raining down. Amory’s hand was in mine. The look in his gray eyes was the same as it had been pulling me out of the fence: raw fear mixed with pain.
 

Hours later, I’d seen that look again.
 

We were on a bridge. It was snowing lightly. Tanks were barreling toward us, and I could see the flash of PMC lights. I was in Amory’s arms.
 

I felt the warmth of his lips graze my temple, and then he threw me over the bridge into the icy water below.
 

He’d been protecting me.

Even though Amory had told me we were together, I hadn’t really believed him until now. A tidal wave of emotions hit me, but I pushed them down. It was too much. These weren’t homey and comforting like my memories of Greyson; they were laced with painful longing, grief, and fear.

“Over here!” someone yelled, pulling me out of the memory.

I looked up to see the others headed toward a shiny black 4Runner. Godfrey tossed the crate of weapons inside, and we all piled in. Roman sat in the front, and Greyson dove into the very back with Logan, but I stayed glued to Amory’s side in the middle row. Godfrey hopped in the driver’s seat, turning the keys in the ignition.

For a horrible moment, I thought the car wasn’t going to start. But then the engine roared, and the headlights flooded the line of trees in front of us. Godfrey put the vehicle in gear and pulled around in the opposite direction. We were all panting heavily, and Roman’s face was beet red, beads of sweat clinging to the short hairs at the base of his neck.

None of us spoke as we bounced along over the uneven forest floor. I glanced at Amory, who was staring at me out of the corner of his eye.
 

I realized I was still holding his hand. Embarrassment flared in my chest, but I didn’t let go. It was as if my hand had a mind of its own. He didn’t pull away either, but continued to watch me long after I had looked away.

“Find us a route,” Godfrey grumbled to Roman, tossing a battered map from the console into his lap.

Roman unfolded it gingerly. It was an ordinary road map that had been heavily scribbled and highlighted with different colors. There were little notes running over the lines and Xs denoting which routes were no longer safe.

We drove through the trees, none of us daring to speak. Branches snapped beneath us, and our tires groaned through the snow and frozen dirt. The sound of the sirens was fading, but my heart was still thundering against my ribcage.