With the Enemy (13 page)

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Authors: Eva Gray

BOOK: With the Enemy
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“We’re going to need a plan,” Maddie says, looking at me. She sounds like herself again, but the expression in her eyes is more intent, and more excited, than I remember. It’s as though a spark that has been smoldering inside of her has just flamed to life.

“There might be something in the papers I have back at the car wash that can give us a clue about where to start looking for the Hornet,” I say.

Rosie nods. “We’ll have to plan on staying there a bit longer. If we go anywhere near any of our houses, we risk coming to the attention of the Alliance.”

“No way,” Maddie says, cradling the box in her palm. “Madeleine Frye, daughter of the Hornet, is not letting the Alliance get anywhere near this.”

Louisa turns in the front seat to say, “And we’re not letting them get anywhere near you.”

“That sounds like something to discuss over lunch,” Ryan announces over his shoulder. “I could really go for some soylami and a berry bar.” He smiles at Rosie. “Radio ahead, Alpha team leader, and tell the others to prepare a banquet.”

Rosie pulls the phone from her pocket and starts pushing buttons.

Maddie’s eyes are wide. “What is that thing?” She frowns. “How do you have berry bars? And what is this car wash place?”

“We have a
lot
to tell you,” Louisa says, and it’s clear she’s proud. “While you’ve been living the life at the
Phoenix Center, we’ve been running for ours. We even crossed the Settlement Lands. And you won’t believe how Evelyn figured out where you were.”

“I don’t seem to be getting through,” Rosie says, glaring at the phone. “We must be too far away.”

“Keep trying,” Ryan tells her. “I bet they’re just busy gorging themselves on my lunch.”

Louisa tells Maddie and Jonah about our journey as, next to me, Rosie repeats “Beta team, it’s Alpha team, come in Beta team.” I have the nagging feeling that there’s a question I should be asking. Then I almost laugh when I realize there isn’t, I feel that way just from force of habit. Although there’s no denying that the force of that habit helped us find Maddie. And maybe it helped me find myself.

I think about how just two days ago my fingers were cramped from holding so tightly to my compass. But I’m starting to believe I can trust my own sense of direction. About all kinds of things.

My fingers go to the pocket of my sweatshirt and I reach inside and feel for the candy heart. I can’t wait to
tell Alonso about Phoenix Center. I picture his smile and the way he tilts his head to get his hair out of his eyes and I hear his voice saying,
Trust me
, and my heart does this funny little flipping thing.

I look around the van at Rosie next to me, and Maddie and Jonah talking quietly across from us, and Ryan and Louisa in front, and I can’t help smiling. We did it. We got Maddie back. We’re together again.

“Now arriving at home sweet home,” Ryan announces like a tour guide. “Please keep your —”

He slams on the brakes, hard, sending us all banging into one another.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, gripping the back of his seat to steady myself.

“It’s gone,” Ryan says. “What do you mean it’s go —” But I don’t finish my question because the answer is right in front of me. Where our headquarters were, there is now flat pavement crisscrossed with dusty tire tracks. A large pile of rubble off to one side is the only sign that anything ever stood here.

There is no car wash. There is no sign of our camp.

There are no extra clothes, no sleeping bags, no water bottles, no clock, no supplies.

There is no trace of Helen, Drew, or Alonso.

 

What will happen tomorrow?
Read on for a preview of
Tomorrow Girls #4: Set Me Free
.

Louisa, Jonah, and I set out early. The sky is streaked dull gray and pale yellow, and a ghostly wind howls.

We’ve left the others sleeping, both because they need the rest and because we couldn’t bear to say good-bye. We head northwest toward my apartment building. In the crumbling townhouses that line the streets only a few windows are lit. I imagine sleepy employees getting ready for the early work shift or a world-weary insomniac sitting quietly in the early morning gloom, wondering what will become of all of us.

Jonah is no stranger to the streets at this hour, so I give him the address and we let him take the lead. I can tell Louisa is terrified, jumping at every sound. She hugs herself against the brutal slicing of the wind and stays close at my heels. It occurs to me how courageous of her it was to volunteer for this mission. And how incredibly loyal. How could I have ever doubted her?

We pass an alley, and I get the distinct feeling there are eyes staring out at us. I walk a little faster. The buildings cast deep, charcoal-toned shadows, which make everything much creepier.

“It’s too dark,” Louisa says, clearly sharing my thoughts. “Why don’t we walk up on the El tracks? We’ll have better visibility.”

“And fewer dark alleys,” Jonah adds.

I nod at them, feeling grateful that they’ve thought of this.

The El trains haven’t run in years, not since the government decided it required too much energy to run them. The three of us carefully take the stairs to the elevated tracks. As we walk along the rusted rails, rats scuttle along at the far edges of the platform, and occasionally a filthy pigeon will swoop down so close I can actually see its beady little oil-slick eyes.

“At least we don’t have to worry about a train coming at us,” Louisa remarks.

The words are barely out of her mouth when I notice something approaching from the opposite direction, following the track at a steady, purposeful pace.

Heading right for us.

I squint into the growing daylight, hoping my eyes are playing tricks on me. But they aren’t.

There is something moving toward us, all right. On a collision course.

It is definitely not a train.

But I almost wish it were.

TOMORROW GIRLS

Behind the Gates
Run for Cover
With the Enemy
Set Me Free

Copyright

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to: Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

Copyright © 2011 by Michele Jaffe.
Cover art by Alan Brooks
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

First printing, September 2011

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eISBN 978-0-545-38833-7

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