I look to Moore for some sign that he’s joking. I don’t see any.
“And if I had followed the second order?” I say.
“So be it. A lesson is learned either way.”
I think about what kind of man would be willing to sacrifice his son to teach him a lesson.
Then I think of Father, his hand over mine on the cyclic in the helicopter yesterday. Was he really willing to crash our helicopter to make his point?
“We have rules about newcomers,” Moore says. “They’re not to get live ammo until they’ve been fully vetted.”
“I can understand that. But if you were truly concerned about me being new, why did you walk in front of me when I had a loaded rifle?”
“Not in front.”
“Nearly.”
“If you had turned even an inch toward me, you would have died.”
I glance back at Francisco, find him watching me, his eyes scanning regularly from Moore to me.
“Okay, but hypothetically, let’s say I’m a bad guy. I might have gotten off a shot, right?”
“Doubtful,” Moore says. “But either way, I would have had my answer.”
“Your answer to what?”
“To whether or not you’re dangerous.”
“That’s what you want to know?”
He nods.
“I didn’t shoot you, so I’m in the clear now, huh?”
I react like Daniel Martin would, wiping fake sweat from my brow.
“Not exactly in the clear,” Moore says. “There’s a difference between a zealot and a professional. A zealot acts without regard to personal safety. A professional is doing a job and wants to go home at the end of the day. You didn’t shoot, so I know you’re not a zealot. But that’s all I know.”
I watch Moore closely, trying to understand his intent. Is it possible he knows who I am?
I want to defuse the situation, so I say, “To be honest, I haven’t had breakfast yet, and this conversation is making my head hurt.”
“We’re not done talking yet,” Moore says, danger radiating from him.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I want you to tell me the truth about who you are.”
Truth. It’s the same thing Francisco talked about the other night. Now I know where it was coming from.
“The truth? I’m a guy who wants to get into Camp Liberty,” I say.
“Why?” Moore says, his focus intensifying.
I think about my mission briefing with Mother and Father yesterday, the doubt they wanted me to show Moore. Normally I would have time to develop this persona earlier in a mission, before I even got close to my mark or my target, but now I have to do it in real time, in front of Moore.
I take the arrogant Daniel Martin and I go deeper, probing beneath his surface attitude to the boy who might be suffering quietly.
“Maybe I want to get away from my parents,” I say.
The sentence surprises me a bit.
“What’s so bad about your parents?” Moore says.
“They’re liars.”
Moore nods, waiting.
“They expect me to play by the rules, but the rules keep changing. How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?”
“That’s not fair to you,” Moore says.
“No kidding. I get blamed for shit that’s not my fault because they changed it up on me, and then they want my respect. But you have to earn respect, don’t you? It’s not something you get automatically because you call yourselves parents.”
I sense something personal inside me threatening to surface, so I think instead about Daniel’s story, redirecting the focus of my rant.
“My parents say they don’t believe in the system and then do everything in their power to stay a part of it, even to excel within it. My father is willing to give money to organizations like yours that want to change things, but what does he really want? I mean he’s giving money to change a system he benefits from, and the organizations themselves only exist because people make money off the system so they have something to donate. To me it looks like one big feedback loop of bullshit.”
I’m expecting Moore to be offended, but he smiles at me.
“I understand how you might feel that way,” he says. “It’s a system, that’s true, but everyone has a role to play.”
“What do you mean?”
“An army, for example, has different elements. There are the soldiers on the ground who do the actual fighting, there are commanders whose job is to see the big picture and guide the fighting, and then there are the money men, who pay for it all. Without everyone playing their role, there is no army.”
“I never thought of it like that before.”
“So you may not like the role your father plays in this ecosystem, but he plays a role nonetheless. An important one. Not everyone can be a soldier.”
I nod, signaling my understanding. “The ecosystem you talked about—I know which role I want to play.”
“Which role is that?”
“Soldier.”
Moore smiles at me. “I thought so,” he says.
He signals for Francisco to come forward.
“He’s ready,” Moore says to Francisco.
“Ready for what?” I say.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WHITE VANS LINE THE ROAD LEADING OUT OF CAMP.
Unlike the other day, they are pointed out toward the mountain pass, their engines running. I see teens in the driver’s seats, waiting impatiently.
Francisco walks me toward the back of the line where a number of kids are gathered in a group. I slow down as I pass, noting that most of them are dressed in black from head to toe. I see Lee talking with people in the center of the group, his arms gesticulating wildly. He notices me and signals for me to join him.
“Go ahead,” Francisco says. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
I walk over to Lee.
“Hey,” Lee says. “My dad called to say you were coming with us. I’m glad.”
“I’d be glad, too, if I knew where we were going.”
“The Hunt.”
“What’s The Hunt?”
Lee smiles. “A scavenger hunt. We go out and look for things. Are you interested?”
“Sure. Maybe I can call my parents from the road?”
He nods. “Come on, then. You’re riding with us.”
He walks me toward a van near the rear of the pack. He opens the side door and waits for me to climb in.
I jump in, and he slides in behind me.
Francisco is in the driver’s seat. He nods a greeting.
“Everybody locked in?” he says.
“Safety first,” Miranda says, buckling her seat belt in the front passenger seat.
Lee pats me on the back. “We’re good to go,” he says to Francisco. Then he leans forward to his sister. “Daniel is one of us now, Miranda. Can you believe it?”
“Did you clear it with Dad?” she asks Lee.
“It was Dad’s idea. Isn’t that right, Francisco?”
“That’s right,” he says.
“It’s official. I’m coming with,” I say.
“The more, the merrier,” she says unimpressed. Then she turns around and slumps in her seat.
“Let’s roll out,” Francisco says, and he starts the van.
“You’re going to love this,” Lee says quietly. “It’s a total blast.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE VANS SPLIT UP OUTSIDE OF CAMP, MOVING OFF IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS.
I sit in the back with Lee, trying to monitor our direction in case I have to report on it later. There are no windows on the side of the van, so I look through the front windshield, memorizing details as we go.
I recognize Manchester as we cross into the city limits.
My phone chimes.
“What is that?” Francisco says quickly from the driver’s seat.