It’s hard to focus now. It’s been almost forty-eight hours since I’ve slept. My body is trained to function with little sleep, but at a certain point I begin to lose operational awareness. I’ve learned how to take micronaps, small bursts of REM sleep that allow me to stretch the time between periods of full sleep. But even those seem out of reach now.
The disappearance of Father, the operation at the water treatment plant, my interactions with Lee and Miranda, all of these conspire to keep me from sleep.
Eventually I give up and sit in a chair, attempting to slow my thoughts and move my focus back to where it belongs, not on Miranda or Lee, or even on The Program.
I focus on the mission.
On Moore.
I think about Moore sending teams of young kids through the countryside at night, searching out targets.
They call it a game. I call it something else.
Domestic terrorism.
During my missions I am never given the reasons why a target has been assigned by The Program. I am trained not to ask questions, to focus only target acquisition and removal, leaving the why of it to others.
But living among Moore and his people, I can’t help but see the danger they represent.
This, more than anything, helps to steady my intentions. Whatever the purpose of this mission from The Program’s perspective, I have my own purpose now.
I have to stop Moore.
I sit in the chair thinking of ways to do it. By the time I glance at the clock, it’s seven AM.
I ate some trail mix last night, but that’s not enough to fuel multiple days of mission operations. I need real food.
I dress quickly and head for the main house, following the smell of bacon in the air. In the central square, I see the ashes of last night’s bonfire being raked up by two young kids, one of whom collects trash in a large plastic bag.
I walk past them unchallenged and head toward the main house.
I press the handle on the front door, but unlike in the video game, it is unlocked.
I ready myself, and then I open the door and step inside for the first time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IT’S MOORE.
He’s standing in the hallway inside the door as if he’s been waiting for me. Francisco and Aaron are by his side.
“Good morning,” I say, like I’m happy to see him.
“You’re in a good mood,” he says.
“Absolutely,” I say, but not for the reasons he might think.
“How was last night?” he says.
For a moment I think he’s talking about Miranda being in my room, but I doubt he’d be smiling if he knew.
“You mean the treatment plant?” I say. “That was interesting.”
“Not the word I was expecting.”
I shrug. “It’s a lot to process all at once.”
Young people pass by us heading to breakfast. When they see Moore and me talking, they hug the wall, giving us plenty of space.
“Lee told me what happened,” Moore says. “It sounds like you had some doubts about the mission.”
I want to be real with Moore, letting him hear my concerns but not pushing far enough to risk losing him.
“That’s a fair way of characterizing it,” I say.
“I thought you wanted to be a soldier,” Moore says.
“I do.”
“Last night was preparation for the battle.”
“The battle against the dangerous people of Manchester, New Hampshire?”
Moore’s face reddens with anger. I see the tension ripple through Aaron’s shoulders as he prepares for trouble.
“Explain it to me,” I say quickly. “Help me understand.”
Moore nods, his face returning to normal.
“Are you familiar with the shot heard round the world?” he says.
“The first shot of the American Revolution.”
“That’s right. It was the Battle of Lexington and Concord, where the patriots fired against their colonial oppressors for the first time. It was in that moment that the world changed.”
“What does that have to do with last night?”
“We are modern-day patriots,” Moore says. “We who choose to live at this camp. We are practicing for that first shot. We don’t know when or how it will need to be fired, but we know we must be ready. You said you wanted to be a soldier—”
“More than anything.”
“That’s what a soldier does. He trains for the day when he will be needed by his commander.”
I pause, thinking about what Moore has said. He has a masterful way of using truisms to support his ideas. One can easily agree with the truth of the surface statements without questioning the ideas themselves.
It makes it easy for me to agree with Moore, at least for the time being.
“I understand what you’re saying.”
Moore smiles. “I know you do, Daniel. I have confidence in you. So does Lee. He told me so last night.”
“Is that right?” I say, wondering what Lee said to his father.
Moore signals for Francisco to come forward.
“Francisco’s going to take you home now,” Moore says.
“Home?” I say, my voice rising.
I feel myself getting upset, lost in the character of Daniel. He’s opened his heart and now he’s being rejected by Moore.
“Please. I don’t want to go,” I \say.
I play it up, letting myself get desperate in front of Moore. If he throws me out, my mission is over.
Moore holds up his hands, trying to calm me.
“I’m sending you home because I want you to make arrangements with your parents,” he says.
“Arrangements for what?”
“To come back and stay with us for a while.”
“For a camp session?”
“There is no camp session, Daniel. Not anymore.”
This is what Miranda was trying to tell me in the forest the first night.
“What about the recruiting event?” I say.
He waves his hand as if it was insignificant.
“That was for appearances. We’ve moved beyond camps and temporary fixes and on to the next phase of our growth.”
“What phase?”
I want to ask another question, but Moore steps closer and looks me in the eye.
“Do you trust me, Daniel? Even if you don’t fully understand my methods?”
“I do.”
Moore reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. It would not be out of character to flinch, especially after getting squeezed in the parking lot the other night and seeing Moore put the pincer movement on his son the first night.
But I don’t flinch. I let him touch me.
His hand is firm and steady on my shoulder.
“Do what you have to do to convince your parents,” he says. “Then come back to us.”
“I will,” I say. “As soon as I can.”
CHAPTER FORTY
“YOU GOT THE BIG INVITE,” FRANCISCO SAYS.
“It’s not like I’m the first,” I say.
We’re walking away from the main house together, heading toward an area where vehicles are parked.
“No,” he says, “but Moore sealed the compound last month. The fact that he let you in is a miracle.”
“Why did he close it down?”
“Safety precaution,” Francisco says simply.
I think about the dead soldier. Father said he got into the compound. Assuming he was discovered, could that have been the trigger for Moore sealing the compound from the real world? If so, why would he open it now to let me in?
We turn the corner, and I glance back toward the main house.
“You know, I’ve never been inside the main house. Not past the front hallway at least.”
“You’ll get there eventually,” he says. “It took me a while. Now I live there.”
“Is it nice?”
“Not nice,” he says. “But I’m close to Moore. That’s what’s important.”