And I thought standing in line at the DMV was a bad deal.
We eat a hot, heavy meal of canned meat, vegetables and bread. I devour everything like a puppy, starving for big portions of food. I haven’t seen Sophia since I arrived, but I’m betting she’s doing the same thing as I am right now:
Stuffing her face.
When I’m done eating, I follow Mrs. Young into the back of the tent. She lifts up a little flap and we walk outside. There’s a big metal bin sitting on the edge of the campsite, surrounded by several curtains made out of tarpaulin. It’s a makeshift washroom. “Jeff will get you some water, and you can start scrubbing away all of that dirt,” she says.
I swipe my hand over my arm rub the crud between my thumb and index finger. Yeah. That’s gross on a number of levels. Thanks for that, Kamaneva.
Her name brings a bitter taste to my mouth — and a little bit of guilt. She was seconds away from shooting me point blank in the head when Max took her down. I have every right and reason to hate her… but I don’t. Not really. How perverted is it that I actually feel sorry for her?
I just can’t imagine living life being so hateful.
Not to mention trigger-happy.
“Okay, here you go.” Jeff comes around the corner about a half an hour later. I help him fill up the tub with cool water. I’d prefer taking a bubble bath, but hey. This is better than nothing. He leaves me alone and I get an hour of something I haven’t had in a long time: Privacy.
I peel off my prison-issued clothes and step into the water. It’s cold, but it feels good. I scrub every inch of dirt and filth off my body. Mrs. Young brings me some clean clothes and she takes the old ones away.
She’s probably going to burn them. Personally, I’d opt to use them as bear repellant. There are some not-so-pleasant scents wrapped up in those things.
When I’m done, I put on some snug cargo pants, a long sleeve shirt, a jacket and a pair of combat boots. I slip on some socks and lace up the boots, delighted to be reunited with some footwear that loves me as much as I love them.
“Alright,” I say, combing my fingers through my wet hair.
It’s so short. Just another reminder of Omega’s presence in my life.
When I step back into the tent, it’s already getting dark. Chris looks up at me. He’s cleaned up. His black tee shirt is tight against his lean, muscular frame. His hair is hanging loose and damp around his face. I don’t even realize I’m staring at him until he starts laughing.
“See something you like?” he teases.
“Um…” I blush. “I was just… you know… looking.”
“I know.” He stands up and places one hand on each side of my face. “You look beautiful when you’re cleaned up.”
I roll my eyes.
“As opposed to what? Looking like I was just liberated from enslavement?”
“Nah, you always look pretty.” Chris presses a slow, gentle kiss against my lips. Enough to make my toes curl. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this. It was my job to protect you, and I failed.”
“You didn’t fail at anything—”
“—Let me finish, Cassie.” He pulls back and starts pacing, a sign that he’s either tense or nervous. Maybe both. “I don’t know if you’ve been impressed with the fact that I went crazy trying to find you. I looked everywhere.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I swallow.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I didn’t do it on
purpose.”
“I know. When I found out where you were through the underground in the Free Army, I knew I had to come get you.” He glances across the campsite where Max is gathered with a few of the men. “Max was instrumental. He did a lot behind the scenes to keep you alive. But when Kamaneva put you in solitary, Max knew you were going to be executed the next morning. We had to change our plans. We had to attack the camp a lot earlier than we were thinking.”
“You were amazing,” I shrug. “You completely surprised Omega.”
“We got lucky.” He stops again. “You came way too close to getting killed. I owe everything to Max for saving you from that bullet.”
“Max is a good man,” I agree. “I can’t believe I thought he was a sleazy creep who liked hitting on teenage girls.”
Chris starts laughing again.
“Max is an extremely talented actor,” he says. “Probably the most talented guy in camp.”
I look around, spotting Isabel’s head of blonde hair near Mrs. Young.
“Isabel’s happy here,” I say.
“My parents have all but adopted her.”
“Good. Isabel needs parents.” I look at Chris. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Jeff said there was somebody named Alexander in charge before you came to camp. Who was he? Did the militia mutiny on him or something?”
Chris grins.
“No. Nobody was really in charge,” he replies, playing with my fingers. “People were just following Alexander’s commands because he’s a military guy and that was a lot better than sitting in the mud, wondering how to strike out at Omega.”
“But then you came to camp and everybody fell in love with you,” I joke, but I’m actually halfway serious. Chris has that effect. He’s logical, smart, common sense. Roll all of these attributes into one and you’ve got yourself a popular leader.
“No, I just have a different approach than Ramos,” Chris says.
“Ramos?”
“Ramos. Alexander Ramos.”
I blink.
“So is he still in camp, then?”
“Yeah. He’s a good soldier, he’s just got an attitude.”
I smirk.
“Like me?”
“No. Like an egotistical jerk.” Chris gives me a look. “Stay away from him if you can avoid it. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not a good guy, either. He can be…rough around the edges.”
I slide down to the ground and curl up on one of the camping mattresses.
“I guess that’s your way of saying he’s not a gentleman.”
“Exactly.” Chris ambles over and sits beside me, stroking my hair as I lay with my cheek pressed against a sleeping bag. “This is a good group of fighting men, and their purpose is to create enough chaos to keep Omega from taking such a deep hold here.” He traces my ear with his fingertip, moving down to my neck. “But it’s just like any other society. You have to watch your back. There will always be people who aren’t as nice as you think they are. Ask anybody who’s experienced any type of military environment and they’ll tell you to keep your eyes open.”
His fingers touch the gold chain hanging around my neck.
“You kept this?” he exclaims, surprised. “They didn’t confiscate it?”
I smile up at him.
“I guess that’s just God’s way of winking at me.” I touch his hand. “You know, when I was in that place, and they were killing people on the sidewalk, and Kamaneva was making us march through the locker rooms naked, I kept thinking about something.”
Chris’s jaw hardens.
“I swear, if I could kill everybody that ever—”
“—Don’t you want to know what I was thinking about?” I interrupt, feigning disappointment.
Chris visibly relaxes.
“Alright. Shoot.”
“I was thinking about you.” I press my lips against the center of his forehead. “I kept asking myself what you would do in my situation. And I knew you’d come for me — and you did.” I slide my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Chris.”
I’m so close to him that I can hear the rapid beat of his heart. He gently lays me back onto the sleeping bag and gives me a kiss. “You make it easy,” he whispers.