The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) (21 page)

But the second my mind wandered, Amory threw his weight onto me. I fell backwards, hitting my head on the ground, and felt the pressure of his right arm cutting into my windpipe.
 

Amory’s hand pinned my wrist to the ground, and the knife slipped from my fingers. With a deft hand, he snatched it up and held it to my throat.

We both stopped, and I watched him breathing heavily. His eyes were bright with adrenalin, but they were not full of the hate and fear I had seen that first day. He loosened his grip on my wrist.

“Well, you can just taste the sexual tension out here,” said a voice from above.

I tore my eyes away from Amory and looked up to see an upside-down Mariah smirking down at us. Her dirty-looking blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she was wearing a threadbare T-shirt with no bra.
 

Amory lowered the knife and sat back onto his calves, as if suddenly aware that he had been hovering inches over my body. Under my jacket, I noticed my tank top was riding very low in the front. I jerked it up impatiently and sat up on my elbows to look at her.

“Oh, don’t let me stop the fun,” she said, cat eyes flashing. “In fact, I’d like to join.”

Roman spoke up. “We’re just teaching Haven how to fight one on one . . . in case you all run into some carriers on the road.”

Mariah looked at him, suddenly interested. “That’s funny, seeing how carriers are weak, stupid things. Looks to me like you were showing her how to fight humans.”

“Carriers are humans,” said Amory.

She smiled. “Only a little.”

“You fight a lot of carriers, huh?”
 

“Why fight when you can blow their brains out long range?”

“Haven has,” said Amory. “She escaped four that were holding her captive.”

Mariah looked at me for the first time. “Fascinating.”

Amory climbed up and held out a hand to me, not breaking eye contact with her. I took it and stood up next to him.

“Well,” she said to him. “You know where to find me if you want to learn some new moves.”

Raw hatred spilled into my gut. Watching her walk away, I marveled at how deadly she looked despite having the svelte frame of a model.

Roman exhaled slowly when she was out of earshot. “Wow.”
 

He shook his head, returning focus to me. “That was slightly less depressing to watch. Let’s run it again.”

“She said
what
?”
 

Logan was looking at me in disbelief as I told her in a low whisper about our conversation with Mariah. The sun was about to go down, and we were taking clean clothes off the line and folding them to be packed for the trip.

“‘You know where to find me if you want to learn some new moves,’” I repeated. “That’s what she said.”

“What a little snake. She’s going to try to get with Amory on this trip. Mark my words.”

I shrugged, trying to act casual. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Logan jabbed me in the ribs, and I yelped involuntarily. They were extremely tender after my combat session with her the day before. “Oh, come
on
.”

I played dumb. “What?”

“You’d be okay with that slutbag shacking up with Amory?”

“She’s . . . all right,” I lied.

“She looks like a meth head,” muttered Logan. “Too skinny.”

“They’re doing us a huge favor taking me east to find Greyson.”

Logan shook her head once, looking serious. “They’re not doing you any favors, Haven. Trust me. They want something. I just know it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but nothing is free. And these guys aren’t your friendly neighborhood activists like Ida. They’re rebel extremists. Their game is trying to bring down the whole government.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”

She grabbed my arm. “I’m serious. These people are dangerous. And they’re only going to continue to be helpful as long as we have the potential to advance their cause.”

I thought of Logan’s encounter with Mariah the night before and shivered.

“Well I don’t see what that has to do with Mariah shacking up with Amory,” I said.

“I’m just saying you should watch her.”

You mean kill her,
I thought.

I still hadn’t said anything to Logan about what I had overheard the night before. There just didn’t seem to be a good way to bring up what I witnessed without sounding as though I was accusing her of treachery. Even if Logan was hiding something, I still trusted her more than Mariah, and I didn’t want to lose her.

The next morning, I discovered new clothes Ida had left hanging on the hook on my door: slim-fitting black pants with a fitted holster for weapons, moisture-wicking undershirt and shorts, a sturdy-looking army jacket with plenty of pockets, and new boots that felt as if they’d be good for running.
 

My bag was already packed with the few belongings I’d brought with me to the farm, along with the spare weapons Amory had gathered for me. I now had several knives and a throwing hatchet, in addition to Greyson’s knife. I slid them into my new holster and studied myself from the waist down. I looked like a soldier.

When I came into the kitchen, the morning sky had the pale bluish glow of the hour just before sunrise. Max was sitting at the table with his forehead resting on his hands, still deep in morning fatigue. He grunted a hello when he saw me.

Ida wheeled around from the stove, still in her robe, and raised her arms to embrace me.

“Oh, look at you,” she said with a watery smile. “I’m just going to miss you kids so damn much.”

“Thanks for the clothes.”

“Oh. I just figured . . . when in Rome, dress like a rebel.”

A loud thudding of an enormous rucksack being dragged down the stairs announced Logan’s arrival. She had her huge bag coming down behind her, in addition to the two packs slung over her shoulders.

If my new rebel clothes made me look badass, it was nothing compared to how Logan looked.
 

She was wearing skintight black pants made out of some shiny material, a long-sleeve undershirt the texture of chain mail, and a tight utility vest that plunged low and zipped down the middle.
 

With her long hair pulled up into a bouncy high ponytail, she looked as though she had stepped out of a spy movie. I half expected her to be wearing high heels, but with tall boots that came up past the knee, she did not disappoint.

“Man. I hope they’ve got plenty of trunk space for all our stuff.”

“All
our
stuff?” Max mumbled from his hands.

Logan looked annoyed. “Would it kill you to be a gentleman and help me carry these? I haven’t even grabbed my guns yet.”

“Why don’t you all sit down and have a bite to eat?” asked Ida, clearly trying to keep the peace. “You never start a trip on an empty stomach.”

We sat, smiling through a stack of the heaviest chocolate chip pancakes I’d ever eaten. Once I had my fill, they sat in my stomach like a brick despite the large mug of black coffee I chugged to wash them down.
 

I stared down at the puddle of syrup collecting on the ugly flowery plate and felt a pang of sadness. This could be the last meal I’d ever eat with Ida. Logan and Max were uncharacteristically quiet, which made me think they were having similar thoughts.

Amory came in through the front door looking harried. He glanced over at me, raked a hand through his hair, and hoisted Logan’s enormous rucksack over his shoulder without breaking stride.

I got quickly to my feet, washed off my plate in the sink, and followed him outside. Godfrey was directing Mica to back up the truck to the front of the house. Amory tossed the bag into the open gate and climbed up inside to help load.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

“Yeah. Come up here and see that all the food’s accounted for.”
 

Amory held out his hand. I took it, swung my leg up, and clambered awkwardly into the truck bed. He handed me a list in neatly printed block handwriting. “This is what we’ve agreed to take. Should be enough to get us there.”

I climbed over some bags to the back, where several crates of food were stacked and neatly organized. Rice. Beans. Potatoes. Canned vegetables. Bread. Cured meats. Jars of Max’s soups I recognized. There were also a dozen crates of bottled water, fire starters, pots, sleeping bags, first aid boxes, blankets, and crates of weapons and ammunition.

“Everything’s there,” I said to Amory, handing his list back.

He sighed. “This is it.”

Before we left, I went back up to my room to check that I had not forgotten anything. My bed was neatly made, the chest of drawers was empty, and there was no pile of dirty clothes in the corner. I shot one last longing look at my cozy little bed and headed down.
 

As I crossed the landing, I saw Logan’s door pushed wide open and was slightly taken aback. What had been a complete disaster zone just one day earlier in an almost endearing way was now a blank, empty room with a bed, a desk, and a dresser. Logan had packed her whole life up in that rucksack. I wondered if the room would be home to a new tenant someday.

Outside by the truck, it was chaos. Logan and Amory were arguing about which guns to take while Max ruffled the cat’s fur. Mica and Mariah were laughing while Rulon sat impatiently in the driver’s seat. Godfrey was already napping on the passenger’s side with his dirty boots on the dashboard.

Ida appeared at my elbow. “Here. Take some pumpkin bread for the road,” she said, pressing a soft loaf into my hand. “It’s the only thing I make that’s as good as Max’s cooking.”

“Thanks,” I said, swallowing to clear my throat. “For everything.”
 

I looked up at her, feeling as if anything I could possibly say would be inadequate. “This place is wonderful. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t taken me in.”

“It’s what I do, pumpkin.” She stroked my hair lightly, her weathered skin wrinkling into a smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

Without thinking about it, I threw my arms around her. She returned the hug with motherly softness and intensity.
 

“You be careful.” She pulled away, looking serious. “Just remember: your choices matter. Don’t let anyone take them away from you. We must make the choices that protect our freedom — even when they’re not easy.”

I nodded, not sure exactly what this meant.

The front screen door banged open, sending Magnus away hissing. Roman stalked out with a pack slung over his shoulder. He was dressed like Amory and Max: dark cargo pants, army coat, and a weapons holster around his chest.

“
You’re
coming?” Logan asked without bothering to hide her distain.

He shot her a look, which she seemed to take for confirmation.

“Okay!” She threw up her hands in surrender, pulling me away from Ida. “Grab us the two seats farthest away from him. It’s a long drive to Sector X.”

One by one, they said their goodbyes to Ida. She enveloped Logan in a bone-crushing embrace, pulling away teary eyed. Max hugged Ida so tightly she was lifted off the ground, and Amory escaped with a dignified kiss on the cheek and minimal motherly fussing. I never saw what kind of goodbye she gave Roman, but even he looked a little misty as he climbed up into the bed of the truck.

“Gotta secure the cargo,” Godfrey grumbled in his low, gravelly voice.
 

He climbed in, and Roman helped him strap the crates to the back wall so they would not shift during transport.
 

While they worked, I took one last long look at the farm. Covered in a thin layer of frost that gleamed in the early morning sun, the farmhouse looked like a postcard. I could see Magnus curled up on the porch step, and I felt a pang of sadness as I imagined Ida walking into the now empty house to make a pot of tea.

I could see the carrier lookout tree and across the frosty field. Although it didn’t seem likely we would ever return, I found myself thinking I was just saying goodbye for a little while.

I had just waved at Ida one last time when Godfrey shut the door, throwing us into darkness.

The engine roared to life.
 

The five of us sat facing each other in uncomfortable metal stadium seats that unfolded from the inside walls. I fumbled with the makeshift seat belt they had bolted to the wall and laid my head against the rough aluminum cargo shell. I immediately wished I hadn’t. When the truck lurched forward, the back of my head banged into the wall.
 

Riding in the back of the truck was rough. The only light in the cargo area came from the cab window and the small holes dispersed every few inches near the top of the bed.

Max spent the first hour perched on top of his foldout seat, peeking through the holes in the aluminum, relaying our course in breathless excitement, and falling off whenever Rulon hit a bump. After a while, I began to think Rulon was purposely driving over rough patches to keep the vision of a flailing Max out of his rearview mirror.

Max’s descriptions of our course were unhelpfully vague, like “a lot of trees” and “now I see a soybean field.” By the sound of it, we were driving over rough gravel.

“Still haven’t hit the main road,” said Max after an hour or so. It was difficult to gauge how much time had passed.
 

Mariah let out a girlish laugh from the cab. “We can’t take the main roads. Honestly. With PMC officers everywhere?”

“So back roads?”
 

“You could say that,” said Mica.

“In America, people believe the only way to travel from point A to point B is to take a predetermined course laid out by those in power,” said Rulon. “Roads were built to simplify traveling, but you don’t need to take a road if you know where you’re going.”

Mica turned around in his seat to face us. “Even if you can avoid all the ID rovers, taking the interstate while hauling thousands of dollars’ worth of commodity goods —”

“And plenty of stolen goods,” added Godfrey.

“— isn’t in our best interest.”

Logan shot me a nervous look. What had we gotten ourselves into? I didn’t know why I had been so quick to put my faith in people I didn’t know anything about. Now we were stuck, and there was nothing we could do.