Cole let out a humorless laugh, rocking back in his chair again. “Do you know why that became the general strategy? It wasn’t always that way. Alban tried for years to release the truth about Gray and the quality of life in the camps. He tried propaganda, straight-up emotional manipulation. And what messages did get through fell flat. It wasn’t that people didn’t care. It was that their heads were already in Gray’s game, and he told them, time and time and time again, that if they took their kids out of his camps, they would die. For what Liam’s suggesting to work, it’s not just about getting the parents there, it’s making them willing to come. And if you don’t think the PSFs wouldn’t open fire on civilians, you are dead wrong, Ruby. Dead wrong.”
“There hasn’t been a situation like this before, though,” I said. “You can’t know for sure.”
The metal banged and screeched as Cole reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and slammed it shut again. He stood up and began slapping down sheets of paper across the empty desk, one at a time, lining them up in neat rows, a gruesome echo of the pictures’ contents.
They were—all of those pictures were of kids in those thin, color-coded camp uniforms, black Psi ID numbers across their backs. Some of their eyes were open, but more often than not, they weren’t. Some were bloodied, their faces swollen. A few looked like they were just sleeping.
The only thing they had in common was the long, empty ditch at their feet.
“Where did you get these?” I whispered.
“Amplify released them a few days ago,” Cole said. “I don’t think I need to tell you that these aren’t doctored, no matter how hard Gray’s cronies try to spin it on the news shows.”
I shook my head, feeling like I was about to crawl out of my own skin. I would have backed away if there was room to move. As it was, the walls were folding in over my head, falling down over me, crushing, crushing, crushing.
I had to get out of this room. My palms were drenched in sweat, too slick to open the door. Cole grabbed my arm and forced me to stand in front of the desk, forced me to look down at the photos and see them, absorb the blood, the bone, the vacant eyes.
“These are the people we’re dealing with,” he said. “This is reality. These are people who won’t hesitate to kill anyone who interferes with their orders. This is what hesitation has cost us. This is why we have to fight. Revolutions are won with blood, not words. These photos have been out for days, and what have they done to get people involved—angry enough to stand up and protest? Nothing. Ruby, even this isn’t enough. They all think they’re fake.”
“Let me go!” I struggled out of his grip, the floor rising and rolling under me. That face, I knew that face—the girl in green—
“No one is going to fight for us, Ruby—we have to fight. We have to end this. Match force with force. Every second we waste circling back and debating the same shit is a second we could be saving these kids from something like this. What do you think sparked this? They were beaten to death. Was it because they tried to escape? They were caught in the middle of a fight? Did some PSF snap? Does it matter?”
Oh my God, I was going to be sick. I pressed my fists against my eyes, trying to remember how it was I usually went about breathing. “These pictures are from Thurmond—this is Thurmond. That girl—that girl in green—”
Cole’s grip on me tightened. I had the vague sense that he was the only reason I was still standing on my feet.
“I know her. Her name is...was...Ashley. She was one of the older girls in my...”
“In your cabin?” Cole finished. “Are you sure? Maybe you should take another look.”
I did and it changed nothing. I lived with those girls for years, I knew their faces better than I knew my own. Ashley had been at Thurmond for over a year before I showed up, and she took care of us like you’d think a big sister would. She was nice. She was...
Dead.
“Okay,” Cole said quietly. “I’m sorry. I believe you. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have showed them to you at all if I’d known. The source that sold them to Amplify didn’t identify which camp they’re from.”
Jesus—that ditch. The realization thundered down around me. They were putting them in that ditch? That was what they got? After everything—this?
Too late.
This was Thurmond. This was real. We weren’t going fast enough. I hadn’t been able to get to them in time. A swell of bile rose up in me, and I ripped myself out of Cole’s grip, collapsing onto my knees. I barely got my face into the trash can before I could throw up everything in my stomach.
When I came back to the moment, Cole was holding my hair back with one hand, rubbing a circle across my shoulder blades with the other. I braced my arms against the plastic container and gave in to the sting of tears.
“Did the source say what happened?” I used the tissue he handed me to wipe my mouth. I felt lightheaded, like I was slipping out of the moment, and fought against the pull.
“They issued a statement saying one of the PSFs stationed there snuck a cell phone into the camp and snapped the photos. Ruby...I think—I don’t want to believe this, but it seems like too much of a coincidence that this happened and they’re closing the camp. There are over three thousand kids there and the other camps are small and crowded. Is it possible they’re trying to reduce the population of kids before the move?”
“They’ve killed kids before,” I said. “The ones who tried to escape...the Oranges. Reds who wouldn’t let themselves be controlled. If this has happened once, it’ll happen again. They’re going to keep doing this. We’re sitting around, waiting to get one useful piece of information, and they’re dying. This can’t just be about evidence. Not for Thurmond. We need to get those kids out now.”
I saw the future with sharp clarity and it wasn’t a road, it wasn’t a sky, it wasn’t anything that beautiful. It was electricity singing through metal chain-link and bars. It was mud and rain and a thousand days bleeding into a stream of black.
Cole must have sensed it, seen it reflected in my face, because he leaned back and finally let me go.
“We’re going to need actual fighters for the Thurmond hit,” I said. “Trained soldiers to go in first.”
“Agreed,” Cole said, looking away. “Harry...Harry offered to help us fight. I wasn’t going to say yes. I hate the idea of owing him anything, but we don’t have any time to waste now. Nico is right. The only way to shut down the camp’s defenses is by attacking them from within. I’ll see if I can try to bribe one of the PSFs—someone has to know someone there—”
“No,” I said, my voice calm. “It has to be me. I have to be the one who goes back. A PSF can flip, take a bribe, tip the camp controllers off to what we’re doing. If it has to be done, I’m going to do it myself.”
“The others will never agree to it,” Cole said quietly, but he didn’t disagree. He didn’t want to stop me.
“I know,” I said, “that’s why we aren’t going to tell them until we have to.”
Over the next week, the face of the Ranch seemed to change.
Kylie and the other driver who had gone out looking for tribes returned victorious, even as Liam set out to find Olivia twice and came back empty-handed both times. If he was frustrated by the wasted time and gas, he didn’t show it—a part of me wondered if he used the time to get away from all of this for a few hours, taking Lovely Rita in the direction of the rising sun and returning in time for the sun to set.
The new recruits were willing enough; the group of five Blues that had come back—Isabelle, Maria, Adam, Colin, and Gav—had all served on East River’s watch and, in theory, knew how to use weapons. The issue was, after months spent in the wilds of Utah looking like they’d survived a meteor apocalypse, they only took orders from Gav—who didn’t particularly enjoy taking orders from anyone, least of all an “adult shithead” like Cole. He complained about the cramped sleeping conditions, the plain, basic food we ate, the smell of the shampoo—like he was some kind of connoisseur of floral notes in fragrance. Gav was stocky, had a ruddy complexion, and seemed mean enough to want to fight, but only if we begged him.