“But he hasn’t reported them. That makes him as guilty as they are.” She paused. “And if I don’t turn you in, I’m as guilty as you are.”
She was going to do it. She was going to report them.
The playground looked the same as it had on that night a week ago when she had finally admitted she was a dissident, but the shadows didn’t unsettle her now. Patterns of light and darkness on the ground weren’t threatening. The real threat was standing in front of her—her best friend, ready to make the phone call that would kill her.
“I kept wondering why you were saying all those things about Internal.” The look on Heather’s face reminded Becca of the way she had looked at her mom after she had found the evidence in that file. “I told myself you were still upset about what happened to my parents, and you weren’t thinking clearly. Or that maybe your mom had told you to test me. I guess I didn’t want to see the truth about you.”
Becca fought the urge to run. What good would running do, anyway? “I just want to stop what happened to your parents from happening to anybody else. I know you keep telling yourself they deserved to die, but they didn’t.”
Heather rubbed her pin like it would protect her from Becca’s words. “They were my parents. Not yours. You don’t have any right to talk about what they did or didn’t deserve.”
Did Heather think Becca deserved to die, too? Becca didn’t want to ask. She was afraid of the answer.
“I can’t lose you like I lost them.” Heather was almost talking to herself now. She stared at nothing. “I can’t let you turn into what they turned into.”
“If you report me, Internal will kill me,” said Becca. “Just like them.”
Heather didn’t say anything.
All the years they’d spent together, and this was how it would end?
“After what happened to your parents, I did everything I could to help you,” Becca said into the silence. “Do this for me now. Don’t turn us in.” She heard herself as if from very far away. Heard the futility of her words.
Heather stood so still Becca wondered for a moment if she had simply shut down.
“I’m not going to turn you in,” she said finally. She took both Becca’s hands in her own. “I’m going to help you.”
Becca almost melted with relief.
“Thank you,” she said, but Heather was still talking.
“I thought this was about my parents. But it wasn’t, was it? It was him. He did this to you.”
“Jake?” No. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Heather had said she wouldn’t turn them in.
Or had she only meant she wouldn’t turn Becca in?
“It has nothing to do with him.” Becca’s voice sped up as she tried to get the words out before it was too late, before Heather did something irrevocable. “I didn’t even know about him until after. And he’s not dangerous. He’s not interested in fighting the government. All he wants to do is take care of his dad.”
“He’s a dissident.” Heather spat the word. “But there might still be hope for you.” She gripped Becca’s hands tightly enough to cut off the blood flow. “You helped me. Now it’s my turn to help you.”
Becca pulled her hands away. “Please.” But she had nothing to follow it up with, no way to convince Heather not to do this.
Becca had killed him.
“Do you understand what this will mean? What I’ll be doing?” Heather touched the pin again, then jerked her hand away as if it had burned her. “Not turning you in, after what I heard… that’s dissident activity, Becca. But I owe you too much not to give you this chance.” She paused. “Please,” she said, echoing Becca. “Don’t waste it.”
She rushed away, toward her aunt’s car parked by the side of the road.
Becca had nothing to say, no magic words that would change Heather’s mind. “Wait,” she called after her. Useless. Meaningless.
Heather disappeared into the car and drove away.
Chapter Thirteen
Her mom’s car wasn’t in the parking lot.
Maybe she was out looking for Becca. Maybe she had gone to work. Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Becca had to get to Jake’s house as quickly as possible. With the car gone, that meant on foot.
She started running.
Calling him would look too suspicious. Surveillance would start monitoring his phone calls as soon as Heather reported him—if they weren’t already listening in because of his history. Becca had to deliver her warning in person.
Out of the parking lot, onto the street. If anyone stopped her, what explanation could she give for going running in the middle of the night?
She turned onto the next street, already getting out of breath. Already slowing down. She pushed herself harder, gasping, reminding herself why she had to get there in time. Thinking about Jake.
She had put him in danger. Now she was going to save him.
She would get there in time. She would save him. There was no other option.
The road was nearly empty at this time of night. She almost felt like she was the only person left in the world, until the occasional pair of headlights jerked her out of the illusion. The further she ran, the longer the road got, until it stretched to infinity, until she wondered whether she was covering any distance at all. Sometimes she looked down at her watch, expecting a minute or two to have gone by, and saw that she had lost five minutes, ten, twenty.
She slowed down, forced herself to go faster, slowed down again. She stopped, in tears, legs burning. Less than halfway there. She started running again; her leg wobbled underneath her, and she fell to the pavement. A car swerved around her. She crawled to her feet, her arm scratched and bleeding from her fall.
Heather must have reported him by now.
How long would it take for Internal to arrest him? Would they see him as a low priority and wait a few days, maybe a week or two, more than enough time for Becca to warn him? Or would he be like Anna—reported one night and gone the next morning?
Was it already too late?
She was going to save him.
There was no other option.
She dragged herself forward, feeling the road disappear behind her too slowly, watching the sky lighten ahead of her too quickly.
Halfway there.
Her legs burned, but she ignored the pain. It didn’t matter. Only getting to Jake in time mattered.
Three-quarters of the way.
The sunrise streaked the sky with orange; Becca barely saw it. All she saw was one image, looping over and over in her mind: Enforcement at Jake’s door, dragging him and his dad out of the house.
Almost there.
A car drove up behind her; it slowed as it got closer. Becca glanced over her shoulder.
Even in the dark, she recognized it. That was her mom’s car.
So close. Another five minutes, maybe ten, and she would be there.
Her mom honked.
Becca pulled out her phone. She didn’t care how suspicious it looked. If she didn’t warn him now, she would never get the chance. She pretended she hadn’t heard her mom as she dialed Jake’s number.
His phone rang. And rang. Nobody there.
Too late.
No. There were plenty of reasons for him not to answer. He was probably asleep. Or with his dad. Or… or something. Something besides what she was afraid of.
“Hey.” Jake’s voice. Becca’s heart leapt. She started to answer, but Jake kept talking. “It’s Jake. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
Just his voicemail.
Her mom leaned on the horn.
Becca tried to keep her voice light. Tried to sound like she wasn’t afraid for Jake’s life. “Hey, I know you said you weren’t going to school today, so I thought you might want to hang out. You need to get out of the house. It’ll be… boring there. Really boring.” She could only hope that he would remember their date and the association of “boring” with “Internal,” that he would hear the message underneath the words. Go. Get out of there. Internal is coming.