Read The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) Online

Authors: Tarah Benner

Tags: #Young adult dystopian, #Young Adult, #dystopian, #Fiction, #Dystopian future, #New Adult

The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) (25 page)

His kiss was demanding, and I was eager. I bit his lip, gripping the back of his neck and running my fingers through his hair, and I felt us cross over something — as if we were cresting a steep hill, about to plummet down at an unstoppable speed.
 

Finally, my brain seemed to catch up with my wandering hands, and something flickered in the back of my mind. I paused and pulled away to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, setting me down. I restrained a smile at how out of breath he sounded. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them.

“What are we doing?”

He grinned. “What I’ve wanted to do since the day I tackled you.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. “We can’t do this.” I pulled away. “Everything’s falling apart, Amory. We may not even survive tomorrow.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense, considering everything else that’s going on. But I’ve thought about you ever since you got to the farm. And after this —” He broke off, looking serious. “I realize I should have been kissing you every day.”

“I want to be with you,” I said. “But we can’t do this right now.”

Amory looked resigned. He knew I was right, and he knew “this” wasn’t just referring to what we had been doing up against the tree.
 

“I’m not sorry,” he said. “About any of it. We should be together. Maybe some time in the future, things will be different for all of us. But whether things change or not, I’m going to keep doing that.”

“I hope so.” I really did.

We flopped down on the ground, looking down at the glow of the city. I drank the moment in, eerily aware that tonight could be the last night I was alive and free to stare out at the sky — possibly the last night with Amory right there next to me. I leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around me.

“Thank you,” I said. “For being here.”
 

I felt Amory turn his head next to me, although I couldn’t make out his expression.
 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

My heart swelled with affection. It was a vaguely foreign but wonderful feeling.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” I said.

“No.”

I turned to him. “Then I guess . . . why not?”
 

Without hesitating, I leaned in and rested my palm against his strong chest. Somehow I found his lips in the darkness, and I gave in to the soaring sensation in my stomach as I kissed him.
 

Tonight it didn’t matter. Tonight I allowed myself to be happy because none of us could know if we would survive tomorrow.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We woke before dawn. One minute, I was dreaming of Amory kissing me on the hill, and the next, Logan was shaking me awake in the semidarkness of early morning.

Considering we were about to storm into the city to rescue Greyson — possibly engaging in a fight against the PMC — it seemed to me that we were moving incredibly slowly. The air was thick with tension. No one was talking or laughing. I concentrated on packing to keep my panic in check: rolling my sleeping bag, gathering my clothes, and taking inventory of my weapons.
 

Roman rekindled the campfire, and Mariah cooked us a breakfast of bean stew. After several days on the road, the unsavory provisions had been mixed together and recombined to make something Max would never allow in his kitchen. I took a tin cup of the reconstituted sludge and ate without really tasting it. All I could think about was finding Greyson and getting him out.
 

He had to be alive. I couldn’t consider the alternative. I couldn’t try to imagine what we would do once we escaped Sector X, either. All that mattered was getting him out alive.

Rulon spread a map of the city out on the ground, placing stones at every corner to hold it down against the wind whipping over the riverfront. There were several highlighted routes and city blocks circled in different colors.

“This is our entry point,” he said, placing an acorn over a spot where several highways merged. “There will be a checkpoint with guards, but our cover is a postal truck. There will be several coming in around the same time. We could get lucky and not need to kill anyone. That would be best for us. A quiet arrival buys more time.”

I shivered. I knew killing PMC officers was a strong possibility, but the way Rulon talked about it made murder sound like an afterthought.

“Once we’re in the city, stay out of sight. The place will be crawling with PMC. If one sees you, kill immediately or be killed. Don’t hesitate — they certainly won’t.”

“Everyone needs one of these,” said Godfrey, handing us each a strip of white plastic. It was a wristband. A glint of gold caught my eye. Glued to the plastic was a Citizen ID chip.

“Mica reprogrammed these so they’re only live within a one-mile radius of Sector X,” Godfrey said. “They should trick the rovers into thinking we’re PMC.”

“How did you get these?” Logan asked.

I closed my eyes in horror. I could only imagine one way they could have acquired them.

“It wasn’t easy,” said Godfrey, his voice grim.
 

Rulon traced a highlighted route into the center of the city with a weathered hand. “This is Chaddock, the prison where your friend is most likely being held.” He placed a small pebble over a city block.

“Now, between here and there,” he held his fingers over the entry point and the prison, “we will be taking out a PMC base.”

“What?” said Amory. “You never said —”

“I said we would transport you and your friends to Sector X,” said Rulon, “but this is our primary mission.”

“We didn’t know you’d be involving us in an attack,” I said.

Rulon looked over at me with a hardened expression. “Sure you did. How did you plan on rescuing your friend from prison? Asking nicely?”

I felt the slap of his words and realized he was right. He had said it wouldn’t be a problem, and I hadn’t thought to wonder what that might mean. Even worse was that there wasn’t anything I
wasn’t
prepared to do to rescue Greyson.

 
“This is bigger than all of us,” he said.

I looked from him to Amory, utterly shell-shocked that the rebels had waited this long to share their plan.

Rulon’s face hardened. “If this goes well, you’ll have no problem infiltrating the prison. It’s just the diversion you need.”

“What’s the target?” asked Roman.

“That’s classified. We never reveal more than absolutely necessary in case any of us is compromised.”

Amory and I exchanged glances, but there was nothing we could do. It didn’t matter if we trusted Rulon; he was our only hope of getting Greyson and getting out of Sector X alive.

Godfrey produced another piece of paper. It was a blueprint of the building.

“There will be guards posted here, here, here, and here,” Rulon continued, “on every corner surrounding the building. I need snipers at the ready in case someone sounds the alarm. That will be you five. Mariah and Godfrey, you already have your assignments.

He turned to me. “After the base goes down, that’s your cue to get to the prison and get your friend out.”

“How?” I asked.

Rulon pulled a small hand-drawn diagram out of his jacket and smoothed it out over the main blueprint.

“You should enter from the prison yard. It’s the entry point where security is weakest. Normally, there are guards on the ground level and in the watch tower, but on a day like today . . .” He trailed off. “You will have a small window when security will be compromised. Get in and get out.”

“What if he’s not there?”

His expression became stoney. “Chaddock is where all the low-level prisoners are held. If he’s not there, I don’t know what to tell you.”

My heart sank into my stomach. I couldn’t think like this. He had to be alive. I had to get him out.

“Once the dust settles, get
out
of there . . . with or without him. If we stay in the city too long, we’ll all be extremely vulnerable. And you’re a sitting duck in that prison. Head to the river and get to the other side. We’ll reconvene there.”

As we began packing up camp, time seemed to accelerate. There was no time to think — no time to negotiate or change the plan.
 

“Sure is nice of them to drop that bomb on us just now, isn’t it?” Max muttered over my shoulder as we loaded a crate of supplies into the truck bed.

“What are we going to do?” Logan hissed, coming up behind us. “I knew we couldn’t trust them.”

“There’s nothing
to
do,” said Max. “We still need them to get into the city and get out, don’t we?”

As terrifying as the situation had become, I felt a rush of gratitude toward the two of them. Greyson wasn’t theirs to save, yet they showed no signs of abandoning me. It was as though it had become their mission as well as mine.

We piled into the back of the truck one by one. Amory caught my elbow just as I was hoisting myself up.
 

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered. “We’ll get him out. I have a plan.”

“What —”

He shook his head. “Stay close to me, okay?”

I nodded, and he pulled me up into the truck, his fingertips brushing the small of my back. My heart thudded loudly. Whether it was from Amory’s touch or the stress, I could not tell.
 

Inside, everyone was turned in different directions in varying stages of undress. They were getting ready for the mission. Max stood in front of Logan, blocking her from view as she stripped down to her bra and pulled on the shiny shirt and utility vest Ida had given her.
 

I dressed all in black and strapped on my holster for knives, my tomahawk, and even — somewhat reluctantly — extra ammunition for my rifle. The one Godfrey had given me was unfamiliar, and I hoped I would not have to use it.
 

As I pulled my hair into a low ponytail, I concentrated on counting my breaths to slow the panic seeping into my chest.

“These are for you,” said Godfrey, handing me a small satchel filled with objects I did not recognize.

“What are they?”

“Explosives. You’ll need them to bust into the prison. Remove the pin, stick it on the lock, and BOOM!” He made an exploding gesture with his hands. “Once you put it in place, get the hell out of the way. One of these will blow you sky high.”

“I don’t think I can,” I stammered. “Can you help me?”

He shook his head. “This is where I leave you. I’ve got my own part to play.”

I took the pack and slung it carefully over my shoulders. It seemed like a bad idea to be carrying around a bag of explosives, but I didn’t have a choice. I had relied on the rebels to help me get Greyson out of prison, and this was their method.

Piling into the back of the truck with Mariah, I got one last look at Godfrey before he closed the gate of the truck from the outside. Looking through the window to the front cab, I could see that Rulon had changed into a stolen postal service uniform, and he wore the face of a soldier. He slid the cab window shut, and we were thrust into total darkness.

With a roar of the engine, the truck shuddered to life. My breathing was shallow and ragged, and my face was burning with adrenalin. Amory sat down and put his arm around me.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. For a minute, I had the ridiculous worry that the others would see us and know what had happened up on the hill, but no one else was paying any attention to us.
 

Logan was curled up against Max, who was stroking her hair and looking as though he couldn’t believe his luck — even if he was being driven to his death. Roman was perched on a pile of crates, staring through the ventilation hole as if he couldn’t wait to storm into battle. Mariah looked as calm as ever, almost bored, picking at her nails with the tip of a knife.

After what seemed like an hour, the truck slowed and then stopped, idling. I heard the low rumble of Rulon’s voice and another man’s, but it was impossible to hear what they were saying.
 

Looking down at the CID on my wristband, I saw a tiny light that blinked red several times before turning green. We must have passed under a rover. Although the highway patrol system would register seven officers entering the city in a control room miles away, the guard at the entry point would never know. That was the one advantage of living in a society enslaved by technology: overreliance bred complacency.
 

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool metal side of the truck, praying my heavy breathing wouldn’t give us away in the back. I gripped Amory’s shirt tightly, my knuckles white from the pressure. His body felt tense and deadly still next to me.

Finally, I heard the truck shift gears, and it lurched forward. We were moving again, and he and I exchanged a desperate grin of relief. We’d made it into the city.

Sector X was situated in what used to be Upper Manhattan, connected to the mainland by bridges. Once a metropolis teaming with people, it was now PMC headquarters. The blocks that weren’t relegated to PMC operations or criminal containment were practically empty.
 

When the PMC invaded to reclaim the city from the huge gangs of carriers that ran wild, many undocumented illegals fled. Most of those who stayed were soon driven out by carrier attacks, frequent raids, and property reclamations.
 

Finally, the PMC issued a mandatory evacuation. Due to the high volume of carriers and criminal processing taking place at PMC headquarters, the city was deemed unsafe for civilians, and several other large cities across the country were evacuated simultaneously.

The evacuation of Sector X was much more successful than mandatory migration because
not
leaving was essentially suicide. All interstate commerce was shut down except for military convoys, and all inbound traffic to the city was meticulously monitored. The few civilians who did stay — holed up in their apartments for weeks at a time — were captured and killed on sight without due process. In Sector X, the officers abided by military law.

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