“This wasn’t part of the deal.” He wheels around.
“I’m close to finding Quinn. And I want to take you up on your offer. I’ll become an auxiliary if it means I don’t have to kill any more innocent people.”
Jude turns. “They weren’t all innocent,” he says, looking at Jazz, who he almost killed. “And anyway, why should I believe you?”
“I only lied about Quinn to help her. And I doubt I’ll find anyone else who needs saving,” I say, thinking of Bea.
He opens his arms. “Hand her over,” he says coolly, and without flinching, studies her leg.
“Is Niamh okay?” I ask.
“She’s still angry. Your sister has a good deal of your father in her,” he says. “You, though . . . you didn’t catch it.”
“Nope, and Quinn didn’t catch much of you either,” I say, in case he thinks that this spell of conscience and unexpected concern for his own son makes him some sort of hero. Jude stares, and Jazz squirms.
I step out of the glare of the headlights and into the shadows. “The drifters are vicious. Watch out for them,” Jude says on his way back to the buggy.
Carefully, he places Jazz in the rear seat and climbs behind the wheel. He reverses roughly over the rubble, and is off.
I return to the station. “Bea!” I call out. Within minutes she appears. She’s shivering. My heart lightens. I was worried she would have run off, and I don’t think I want to be alone out here.
“Do you think she’ll live?” she asks.
“She has a chance,” I say.
The top buttons of her coat and shirt are open, exposing pointy collarbones and pale skin. I go to her, and she holds out her hand. “Thank you,” she says. I take her hand and shake it, and finally one corner of her mouth curls into a faint smile.
“I am glad you found us,” she says.
“Me, too,” I say.
20
ALINA
Vanya orders us to finish eating our dinners—the troopers have everything under control. “But what if it’s the Ministry? They nuked The Grove. They could do the same here,” I say. Is it possible that the chatter in the room is masking the sound of zips and tank treads?
“I’m sure it’s nothing Maks can’t handle,” Terry says. He takes a spoonful of white powder from a bowl and sprinkles it over his steaming dessert, then pushes the platter toward my plate, but I’m too nervous to eat. Is nowhere safe? I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to run anymore; I want to stay in Sequoia and have it be home. Is that too much to ask?
I rub my face vigorously, to wake myself from pointless daydreaming, when the room stirs. Vanya stands and Terry climbs up onto the bench to get a better look. Then he hoots and dashes toward a growing crowd.
All at once, the hall is a volcano of cheers.
“Can’t I eat my grub in peace?” Maude complains, disinterestedly chomping.
“Come up on stage!” Vanya calls. The crowd edges forward and the first person to appear on the platform is Maks. He’s holding his pistol in one hand, a balaclava in the other. Vanya puts her hand to his chest.
A girl climbs up onto the stage after him, and when she turns to the side, it’s clear she’s at least six months pregnant. Yet she’s no older than fifteen. Her hair is lank and her clothes torn. She is still wearing a facemask, which Vanya rips off and throws aside.
“Jo!” someone at our table shouts.
“Welcome back!” Vanya says, and everyone claps. “And someone new. Welcome to you also.” Another figure, taller, mounts the stage. But it can’t be. I glance at Silas who, without even looking at me, nods. “Who are you?” Vanya asks.
“Quinn,” he says aloud. Everything around me goes fuzzy. Why is he here? And where’s Bea?
“And one more,” Vanya says, pulling the last visitor onto the stage. Is it Bea? I close my eyes. I can’t look.
I reach for the table as the room erupts in a round of riotous cheering.
“Open your damn eyes,” Silas says, shaking me. “He’s alive.” And when I see what he sees, I gasp.
Bea is missing, but Abel stands on stage. Abel is alive. He scans the room and our eyes meet. His mouth drops open. I hold up my hand in a half-wave and he shakes his head in disbelief. His face has the mottled yellow-and-purple look of someone who’s been beaten up, but he’s here. The Ministry didn’t kill him after all.
“I can’t believe it. He’s goddamn, bloody-well alive,” Silas says through his teeth.
“Yes,” I say. I’m smiling. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy, and I don’t care how ridiculous I seem.
And then I realize Maks is following Abel’s gaze. He looks at Abel, then at me. Abel and me. And although every one else in the room is cheering, Maks is frowning.
He is not very happy with Abel’s homecoming at all.
Without saying so, Silas and I decide to keep what we know about Abel to ourselves. Dorian, who I’d mentioned Abel to back at The Grove, doesn’t remember the connection. “At least he’s alive,” I whisper when we’re back in the cabin. Silas splashes his face with cold water.
“You say it like it’s a good thing,” he throws back. He’s right: we already knew Abel wasn’t Resistance and that he duped us, but we still don’t know why. “And you shouldn’t get your hopes up,” he adds.
“What do you mean?” I say.
“Just because he went missing and has turned up doesn’t mean he’s here because of you. You’re not to let your guard down again, Alina.”
I nod, embarrassed, and Silas pats me on the back awkwardly, lies down in his bunk, and pulls a blanket over himself. But Maude’s frantic. “If Quinn’s here, then where’s Bea?” she wants to know.
“I promise we’ll find out in the morning,” I tell her, and reluctantly, she goes to bed.
My mind is racing; I can’t sleep. Not until I know what Abel’s up to, why Quinn’s here, or where Bea is. I lie awake listening to Maude and Bruce snore in unison. Dorian is in the bunk next to me. He turns over, mutters something, and restlessly kicks and coughs. Silas and Song are silent.
I throw my legs over the side of my bunk. The stone floor is biting cold. I put on my socks, my pants, and within seconds, I’m dressed and out the door.
The cabins, outbuildings, and main house are dark, but no sooner have I stepped onto the graveled pathway than a floodlight illuminates the area.
A girl carrying a gun confronts me. She doesn’t point the weapon, just blocks my way. “Where are you going?” she asks. She steps closer. “Oh, you’re one of the new ones. Someone should’ve told you that you’re supposed to stay in at night.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, trying to sound dense.
“Well, you do now,” she says.
“Where are Abel and Quinn?” I ask.
She glances at the main house. “Abel’s probably in his old room. I don’t know Quinn,” she says, and gestures at my cabin with her gun.
I walk back slowly, and when she heads in the opposite direction, I sprint toward the main house and slam my body against it. The floodlights go out, and I am in darkness.
I skirt along the edge of the house feeling for a way in, but every door is locked. I turn a corner and the guard is there, sitting on a bench reading an old paper book by flashlight. She looks up briefly, waves the light this way and that, then returns to her reading. Another guard appears from a door behind her.
“That time already?” she says, slipping the book into her jacket and stretching.
“You can do my shift if you like,” the other one says. They laugh. “Any probs?”
“Pretty quiet. I found one of the newbies wandering around, but she went back to bed.”