Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(74)

PANIC seized me.

I struggled, my hair a curtain blocking my vision. I refused to stand, forcing the soldier to carry me. I saw flashes of his uniform. The bloused navy pants over black boots. The belt. The gun. A gold name badge—WAGNER. Dusk had come, and back here in the shadows I couldn’t get a clear view of his face.

“Stop!” the soldier demanded. I swallowed my fear and swung my fist at his head, well aware that such an action was either going to land me in prison or get me killed.

“Stop!” he yelled again. “Look at me!”

In a heave, he rammed my body against the alley wall. My head smacked hard against the brick. All of my organs reverberated inside of me, and I gasped, seeing stars.

But I stopped, and that was when I saw his face. Strong, handsome features. Blue eyes, no longer vacant. Sandy brown hair. This was the soldier I had glimpsed by the truck guarding the food. The one who had given me a funny feeling.

“Sean?” I said, shocked. Sean Banks. Not Wagner. Who was Wagner?

I didn’t have time to ask. A second later we were thrown to the ground as some large object was propelled from the side and slammed into Sean.

Not an object. Chase.

I scrambled to clear the fray. There was a thudding sound, then a grunt as the air expelled from someone’s lungs. They wrestled for just a few seconds before Chase pinned Sean, facedown in the cement, holding his arm awkwardly behind his back. He ripped away the gun and thrust it none too gently into the back of Sean’s head.

“Ember.” Chase was too distraught to use my alias. He was asking if I was injured, and I knew immediately that my answer would determine how he would punish my assailant.

“Chase, that’s Sean! I know him!” I said. “It’s okay! I’m okay!”

“What I saw didn’t look okay,” he answered.

“Man, let me up!” Sean’s voice was muffled by the filthy alley floor. He cried out as his shoulder popped. “I’m not FBR!”

“I know,” said Chase. “Your weapon isn’t standard issue.” He turned the gun to look at it. I looked at it too. It was black, whereas Chase’s had been silver.

I realized what Chase must have thought when he’d seen me pressed against the wall. It was the same thing he’d feared when Rick and Stan had told me to get in the car with them.

“Chase, let him up.” I was shaking.

“I was just trying to tell her it was me!” Sean pleaded. “She almost knocked my head off!”

“That’s what happened,” I agreed quickly.

Chase looked my way, reading my eyes for truth. After a moment he nodded, but he didn’t look happy about releasing his captive.

“Don’t touch her,” he warned Sean. His fury did not immediately abate, and he did not release the gun. “Why’d you start the riot?”

Sean had started the riot? Intentionally? When I thought about it, it did make sense. That was why he hadn’t been torn apart by the crowd. That’s why he was wearing a stolen uniform with the name badge WAGNER.

Sean stood indignantly, wiping off his face with his shirtsleeve.

“Because that was today’s mission. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Now later, when the real FBR shows up and doesn’t give away extra rations, the people get pissed off enough to take them down.”

Sean had joined the resistance. The thoughts began racing through my mind. The uniform truck, stolen here, in Tennessee. The sniper. Were his people responsible for that too? Maybe Sean was who we had been looking for! Maybe he would even know the carrier.

Chase helped me up, placing his thumb on my chin and gently turning my face from side to side to check for damage.

Sean watched us curiously. “I saw you in the square. I followed you and—”

“—and waited until she was alone,” Chase growled. Sean took a step back.

“Yeah,” said Sean. “Can you blame me?” He waved his arms at Chase.

“Be nice, both of you,” I said.

Chase took a step toward him. Sean balked.

“They discharged me after that night I helped you,” Sean said quickly. “I came here to find Becca.”

“What?” I tried to get closer, but Chase stopped me. “She’s here? With you?”

“She’s inside. In the base. Where they hold all the prisoners awaiting trial. Or didn’t you know?” he said between his teeth, blue eyes flashing.

“I didn’t know,” I swallowed, reliving the last moments I had seen Rebecca Lansing. “They took her away. I didn’t know where.”

Sean watched me speculatively. I knew he wanted to believe me, but he was wary to trust. I wondered how he’d found out Rebecca had been taken here. Did the resistance know? Did they have access to MM records? Would they know about my mother?

“We don’t have time for this,” Chase said. “The safe house—the one in South Carolina—how do we get there?”

Sean looked from Chase to me and then out into the square, where the people still rioted.

“It’s almost curfew.” He shoved his arms across his chest and shook his head. “You’d better come with me. I know the guy who makes that run. He’s leaving in a couple days. I’ll take you to him just as soon as you tell me about Becca.” He snorted cynically. “You help me, and I’ll get you out. Just like old times, right, Miller?”