Mania (9 page)

“Maybe they should all move away?” I spoke without thinking, but then pushed on because it felt like a valid question. “It obviously isn't safe here right now.”

“They have nowhere to go.” Jack looked around sadly and kicked a rock across the road in front of us. “All of the rebel camps have been compromised in one way or another. There's nowhere the Takers can't find us anymore. We can't leave, not without scattering to the wind and abandoning the sense of community we've fought so hard for. At least here, when we're a group, it's impossible for them to steal a couple of us away at a time and throw us in their prisons without anyone noticing. They have to fight us all together or not at all. Plus, running is exhausting. It doesn't make for an easy life. Prey don't get to relax. If they relax, they die.”

I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I was so surprised that Jack was telling me any of this. Maybe this was his attempt to do what Dad asked in his message. I hoped so. I'd never been through what the rebels had. I wanted to understand, and at the same time I was so grateful that I didn't. How could I relate to their lives?

Fortunately, Jack didn't wait for a response. “We're all so tired of being hunted, Parker. That's what it's about for me. Hopefully the new formula will give the Takers something to lose. It will finally give
us
the leverage for once. It's about time someone gave us a weapon strong enough to help us keep them in line, something to make our predators fear us. I'll find that weapon or I'll die trying.”

The fierce anger in his tone made me worry for the first time that giving him this quest might be the worst thing our dad ever did to Jack—and, as I was beginning to discover, that was really saying something.

Eleven
Jack

As Parker and I walked back across the clearing toward the van, I stopped with the group of rebels standing around Marisol's covered body. Most were weeping and murmuring as they comforted each other. It felt like an informal funeral.

So many memories floated to the surface of my mind: Marisol sitting at a table with us, teaching Libby and me to play card games. Marisol laughing at the silly stories Libby used to make up to tell me before bedtime. Marisol crying with me as we knelt beside my mother's broken and bleeding body. She'd always been like family to me. She'd watched out for me and held me during my tough times and struggles, even when I tried to pretend I didn't need it. She'd seen through my lies and loved me for the secret weaknesses I thought I hid so well. Being strong didn't matter to Marisol; it never had.

“You aren't doing everyone a favor, you know,” she'd told me one night about a week after my mom died. She'd caught me crying in the darkness, hiding by myself in the field behind the camp. I'd tried to wipe the tears from my face before she saw, but she hadn't even had to look at me to know.

“What do you mean?” I'd asked, hoping she was talking about me being away from camp or something.

“Pretending you don't feel anything.” Marisol sat beside me and stared up at the stars. “When you pretend like this, it poisons
you
, deep, but more than that, it steals away how important she was.”

A few tears fell down her cheeks, and when mine fell again to match, I didn't wipe them away.

“We miss her because she mattered so much to us.” She finally turned and smiled sadly at me through her tears. “Don't take that away from your mama. Let her loss matter.”

Then she wrapped one arm around me and we sat together in the darkness until I fell asleep against her side in the middle of the field beneath the stars.

Reaching down now, I squeezed her lifeless hand where it stuck out from one side of the sheet. My throat closed up as I fought back emotion. I couldn't keep losing people. It was tearing me apart, and at some point soon there wouldn't be enough left to pull myself back together again.

“I'll watch over Libby, and I won't let my dad down. I promise you, Marisol.” I spoke the vow so low that no one else could hear it, then took a breath and got to my feet. “Your loss matters to all of us.”

I looked at the people in the camp. A group of rebels were moving the three cops to Randall's trailer. They would find out whether they'd been taken over or were just being bribed or blackmailed, and then decide what to do with them based on that. Randall was as fair as possible whenever he could be, and the people in the camp followed his lead.

The other rebels all moved around slowly, trying to clean up, to help each other … to accomplish something. They moved with purpose but their eyes were vacant, and even the ones who weren't standing around Marisol couldn't stop their gazes from straying back to her body beneath the sheet.

This was far from the first time they'd been attacked, but this was the first time the Takers had gotten to Marisol. And that wasn't something any of the rebels would recover from easily. She'd been the heart of the camp to more than just me.

Libby and I were suffering the same loss. Losing a parent was a terrible kind of pain, and Marisol had been like that for us. It morphed you instantly into an adult at a time when you'd never felt more like a child. Nothing could make you feel as scared, vulnerable, and alone as the loss of a parent.

Parker followed behind me as we made our way toward the van. As hard as it was for me to admit, even to myself, I needed him here with me today. Especially right now, I needed him. Dad had told me to treat him like an ally, but it was hard to argue that I'd been doing that. I kept losing people I loved. I was barely getting to know him, but he was my brother.

It was time to start acting like it.

I never should have waited as long as I did to come find him. I never should have let jealousy, or even Dad's
original rule that I stay away from Parker, keep me from getting to know my own brother.

I could've lost him with that gunshot today. I very nearly had. Just that thought made my chest burn with pain, and I struggled to breathe.

So Parker wanted to know about Dad? Fine. I would start answering his questions. No more secrets. No more letting memories of our dad make me push him away. I would start keeping him close.

Close enough that I could make
certain
he stayed safe.

As if he understood my thoughts without me ever having to speak them aloud, Parker stayed just behind me as I walked. He was silent as my shadow, but still his presence stabilized me in ways I couldn't have explained to him if I'd tried—which, of course, I didn't.

And I was eternally grateful that right now, at least, I didn't have to.

We were just rounding the corner of the trailer nearest to the van when we heard Libby yelling. Parker and I exchanged one quick glance and then broke into a sprint. By the time we got close, the yelling had stopped, but I could still hear weird scuffling noises. Parker was a faster runner than me, but when he reached the end of the van, his legs locked up and he stopped in place almost like his feet had frozen to the ground. I tried to slow down, but I slammed into him and we both went sprawling across the dirt.

He sputtered and rolled over to help me up, muttering “Sorry” as I tried to take in the scene that had stopped him in his tracks. Chloe was kneeling beside the van, her expression slightly bored as she pinned Libby facedown in the dirt. Finn was half-hanging out of the driver's side window, grunting as he tried to pull Chloe off Libby from that extremely awkward position.

I shook my head and hopped to my feet immediately. Finn had zero leverage from that angle. No wonder his efforts were getting him nowhere.

This was really not the time for Chloe to be making trouble. “Get
off
of her,” I snapped.

Chloe looked up at me with a half smile, but it vanished when she saw my face. Fear filled her eyes, but she didn't respond or move fast enough for me. In two steps, I grabbed her shoulders in my hands. Within two more steps, I'd lifted her off of Libby and pressed her back against the side of
the van.

“What the hell are you doing?” My sorrow over Marisol's death fueled the rage in my veins, and I growled and squeezed her arms tighter, releasing some of my pain on Chloe. Why shouldn't I take it out on her? She was a Taker and she was here, right now, causing problems.

Chloe's skin paled to a shade similar to her gray eyes, and she tried to push me away, but I wouldn't budge. Her expression flashed indignation and she raised her chin, glaring back at me with as much anger or more than I was feeling. The fire in her confused me. What right did she have to this kind of outrage?

“I asked you a question.” Her stubbornness was only making things worse. “Why did you attack her?”

“You're asking the wrong person.” Chloe's voice dripped venom.

Parker's tone was sharp as he called my name, and I released Chloe's shoulders.

“You brought
her
here?” I heard Libby yell. “And then the Takers start shooting up the place? Marisol is dead now. Because of her!”

I was slammed from behind by Libby's small form before I could even turn around. The impact rocked me to one side and forced me to stumble toward Chloe again. Then Libby stopped attacking me and sobbed. “How could you do this?”

I glanced back at Chloe. She held perfectly still, barely blinking. What I saw in Chloe's eyes wasn't the confusion I expected, confusion that should've been there about Libby's accusation … but wasn't. There was something else—a hint of understanding? Recognition? Maybe even clarity?

“No … ” I stared at Chloe, and only pure restraint kept me from wrapping my fingers around her throat. If she had betrayed my trust and Marisol was dead because of it, there wouldn't be anywhere safe for her to hide from me. “Tell me you didn't signal those Takers to come here.”

Chloe's eyes went wide and she looked genuinely hurt. “
Never.”

I watched her for any hint of a lie, but if she was lying, then she hid it well. As I reached for Libby, my throat tightened with emotion at seeing her in so much pain. She'd been so little when her parents died, I don't think she remembered it. This was her first loss when she was old enough to understand what had happened—to really feel the pain of it.

“Libby, what are you talking about?” I asked her.

“How could you bring her here, Jack?” Libby repeated. “Don't you know who she is?” Her choked sobs made it difficult to understand her. “She's a Taker. She must've called the others and told them you had her here.”

“I don't think that's what happened.” I kept my eyes on Chloe, hoping my words were true as I rubbed my thumbs across the inside of Libby's wrists in an attempt to soothe her. Libby was always kind, always composed; this wild rage made my teeth ache. This kind of emotion felt so wrong coming from her that my world felt dissonant because of it.

“Oh my God, you
don't
know who she is … ” Her voice lowered to a crazed whisper like she carried a heavy secret.

“I know she's a Taker, but she's been trying to help us.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe move slowly toward the back of the van, and I couldn't blame her. Libby looked murderous.

“Like hell she has,” Libby snarled, reaching out to grab Chloe's shirt before she moved out of range. “She isn't
just
a Taker, Jack. Her dad is Steve Campbell.”

All my thoughts focused on Libby's words. My brain tried to sort them into a logical order that would fit with what I knew to be truth: Chloe had been trying to help me. Chloe made mistakes, but she'd also saved Parker and Finn. And Steve Campbell was the closest thing to evil I'd ever known, the reason the Takers began hunting my dad.
My mother died by his hands.

My skin turned ice cold and my mouth moved, but nothing came out until I finally said, “You must be wrong.”

Libby's tears began to fall again and she nodded fiercely. “I'm not wrong. She
is
his daughter. Campbell may be dead, but they still follow what he taught them … we just found out his oldest son has taken over leadership of the Takers. How could you bring
her
here, Jack?”

My mind was spinning, still trying to make this concept fit. Libby's information had to be a mistake. Chloe wasn't Campbell's daughter. I hadn't been driving around with the girl whose dad had obliterated everything I'd ever cared about. It couldn't … “I don't—”

“Cooper? The new leader—is his name Cooper?” Parker was standing beside me now, staring hard at Libby.

“Yes. It's Cooper.” Then she pulled herself in tight against my chest and I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her as my head spun. As she released Chloe's shirt, she whispered, “Cooper must have sent those shooters here. He murdered Marisol.”

When I looked up, Randall and a few other rebels were standing a few feet behind me. Randall had a gun pointed over my right shoulder.

“What's
she
doing here, Jack?”

Following his gaze, I saw Parker and Finn standing on either side of Chloe and looking at her like she might run or attack them. She wasn't arguing or defending herself. Instead, her head hung down low and she stared at the ground.

I stepped gently away from Libby and moved over to Randall, placing my hand on top of his gun until he lowered it and looked at me.

“Is what Libby said true? Chloe is Campbell's daughter?” I asked. “But how? The family's last name is Thornton.”

That was why Parker and his friends called Chloe's other brother “Thor.” The possibility of these three Taker siblings being Campbell's kids wasn't something I'd
ever
considered.

My voice was soft, but I still couldn't mask the anger I felt as I watched Chloe. And even without Randall's answer, I could tell the accusation was true just by looking at her. It was like the truth held physical weight and pinned her down. Her white-blond hair hid her face as I tried to read something from her stance, her posture. Everything screamed defeat. Was she trying to show me that? Trying to gain my sympathy somehow? Had she been playing us from the beginning—playing me?

“Yeah, that's her.” Randall kept his gun lowered, but I noticed he didn't take his finger off the trigger. “The kids went by Thornton to try to stay hidden from us. It worked for a while, but we found out the truth a couple of months ago.”

Libby moved to lean against the front of the van, her eyes staring right through me.

I walked up to Chloe but before I could speak, I heard Chloe's voice. It came out raw and devastated: “I came because I want to help with the new formula. I never wanted to come to this camp.”

“Why didn't you tell me who you really were?” My frustration came through in my tone, no matter how hard I fought it, but it was a mere drop compared to the lake of fury I was feeling inside. Without Chloe's father, my mom would still be alive. Dad would still be alive. Maybe we could have had a normal life, lived in a real house. The war between the Takers and the rest of us might not have even started at all.

So many lost lives, and Chloe's dad was ultimately responsible for every one of them.

“Answer me!” I roared, grabbing the hair at the back of her head and lifting her face so I could look in her eyes. When I saw they were glistening with tears, it caught me off guard. I released her hair, but she continued to stare at me. The tortured pain in her face was not what I expected, and I motioned for Parker and Finn to step away.