The dissident lay crumpled in a corner, her hands cuffed behind her. Her tangled hair obscured her face. Burn marks traveled up her arm, disappearing under the sleeve of her grubby gray shirt. Her leg was twisted under her at an unnatural angle.
She raised her head; her hair fell away from her face. She looked up at them with unfocused eyes and
We haven’t all decided you’re a dissident. We just want to know what’s going on.
blinked a couple of times before she
It’s just one of those things she heard. You know how she is.
dropped her head back down to the floor.
Anna.
The air was too thick to pull into her lungs. Becca gasped for breath as Eli asked her mom, “Now?” As her mom nodded. As Eli took the gun from his belt and aimed it at Anna—
no no no, at the dissident in front of him, that’s all this was, another execution—
aimed it at Anna and Becca covered her mouth to stifle her scream as Anna’s head exploded against the wall.
Chapter Fourteen
Becca wasn’t sure what happened after that. Only a few short flashes—retching as her mom led her through the hallways, then collapsing into the car with her ears still ringing, then her mom saying something she couldn’t understand as they drove past the spot where she had tried to call Jake—interrupted the endless loop of Anna’s death.
Her mom’s phone rang as they reached their building. She argued with the person on the other end while Becca stayed perfectly still next to her and flinched at every angry word. After she hung up, she apologized for having to leave, promised they would talk about this later, asked Becca if she was sure she would be okay. Becca nodded and tried to give the right responses as Anna’s death played over and over again in her mind.
She didn’t remember getting out of the car. But suddenly she was standing in the parking lot, watching her mom drive away. Watching Anna get shot again and again.
There was something she needed to do. Something important.
Jake. Right. She had to look for Jake.
She started toward the playground. If Jake had gotten her message, if he had understood it… if it wasn’t too late… that was where he would be.
She dragged herself down the road. She tried to run, but her legs wobbled underneath her, aching from her interrupted run to Jake’s house, weak from the images still playing in her head. As she got closer to the playground, Jake’s face replaced Anna’s in her memory, until she could almost believe she had seen him die instead of Anna.
Anna. Becca had said one wrong thing, told one lie, and now Anna was dead. Because of her.
Was Jake in one of those rooms right now? Had Becca gotten him killed too?
When she reached the playground, she kept her head down at first, afraid of what she would see when she looked up—or rather, what she wouldn’t see. She made herself raise her head. The weeds swayed in the breeze; the slide and swings sat deserted.
He could still be in the playhouse. Or he could have gone someplace else. Maybe he had thought the playground wasn’t safe enough.
Or maybe Internal already had him.
She approached the playhouse, scrutinizing it for signs of life. Nothing. No noise, no movement. She stopped just outside the door, afraid to look inside, afraid to see it empty.
“Jake?” she called quietly.
She had expected silence; the answering voice made her jump. “Becca?”
He was here. Alive. Safe. Free.
Jake stepped out of the playhouse. He squinted as the light struck his face. “I heard footsteps. I thought you were Internal.”
She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she walked up to him. She tried to let the reality of Jake in front of her—alive, safe, free—drive away the images in her head.
She didn’t know if she kissed him first or if he was the one to reach for her. All she knew was that when his lips met hers, she could finally accept that he was real, that Internal hadn’t taken him. Her visions of death—of Jake, of Anna, lying on the floor of that room as Eli raised his gun—faded into nothing as she pulled him closer. There was no Anna. No Internal. There was only her and Jake and the electric warmth spreading out from her lips through the rest of her body.
He stepped back, looking as dazed as Becca felt. “I need to check on my dad.” He disappeared into the playhouse.
Becca followed him. Jake’s dad was sitting in the corner where Becca had spent all of last night. His eyes were aimed in their direction, but whatever he saw, it wasn’t them. His lips moved constantly, but no sound came out. Becca eyed him warily, remembering their last encounter. If he saw her, though, he didn’t recognize her.
Jake followed Becca’s gaze. “He’s been like that since we left,” he murmured. “I didn’t tell him why we had to come here, but he knows.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t understand my message.”
“I got it.” He watched his dad for a moment in silence. Little by little, his muscles tightened. “Why are they after us? And how do you know about it?”
The last residual glow of the kiss disappeared as reality crashed back down over her. This was her fault. She had done this to them. Just like she had gotten Anna killed. “Heather overheard us talking last night.”
She waited for Jake’s condemnation. It didn’t come.
He didn’t say anything at all.
She tried to fill the silence. “I called her before I called you, and told her where I was. I know I shouldn’t have done it. It was just… instinct. She was my best friend for so long.” It hurt to say it in the past tense like that.
Still nothing from Jake. Becca couldn’t even hear him breathing.
“She thinks you’re turning me into a dissident. She thought she could save me by reporting you. I tried to talk her out of it, but it didn’t work.”
Still nothing.
“I’m sorry.”
Nothing.
He squatted down next to his backpack, which lay on the floor beside his dad. He rummaged around until he pulled something out. Becca couldn’t tell what he was doing. She wanted to offer more apologies, to say something, anything, that would get him to forgive her. She held herself back. She had already said all she could say.
A minute ago, their kiss had driven away her memories and her fears. Now they started crowding into her mind again, all pressing in on her at once. Too much.
She heard the sound of ripping paper and peered over Jake’s shoulder. He was scribbling something down on a jagged-edged piece of notebook paper. A second later, he stood up.
“I was wrong not to trust you,” he said. “You saved both our lives. If you hadn’t warned me, Internal would have us both by now.” A shudder ran through his body.
“It’s my fault she overheard you in the first place,” Becca protested.
“It doesn’t matter. You saved us, even though you knew what would happen to you if Internal found out. Most people wouldn’t have taken that risk.” He pressed the strip of paper into her hand. “I should have given you this when you asked.”
Becca looked down at the paper. All he had written on it was an unfamiliar phone number—but she knew what it was. The contact information she had asked him for.
She folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you.”
It should have made her happy. But all she could think about was Anna.
The images pressed in closer.
She leaned in toward Jake, and the closer she got, the further away everything else felt. At the last second she hesitated, heart pounding, her lips inches from his. He cupped her cheek in his hand and drew her in the rest of the way. She let their lips meet, let the kiss erase everything in her mind.