Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(80)



“Not important,” Chase answered for me.

“Article 5,” said Sean. “That’s why half the girls in reform school are there.”

“Let’s go,” Chase said suddenly. Was he trying to protect me? It didn’t feel right.

“Sick, all that business. That’s why I got out. Stuff like that.” Wallace scratched his arm, and I saw the end of a black braid of wire sneaking out at the wrist beneath his long sleeve.

“You left the MM because they send girls to reform school?” I asked slowly. That seemed an odd thing to do.

The energy of the room had changed completely. It was strained now, grievous.

Chase was pulling me into the hallway.

“Wait,” I told him. The rain was coming in pattering waves.

“He left because of the executions,” Billy said helpfully. I remembered the carrier in Harrisonburg. I knew what the MM was capable of. The blood drained from my face.

“Who?” I asked.

“Shut your mouth,” Chase said harshly to Billy.

“The Article violators.” Billy looked mutinous.

My heart stopped.

“That’s enough, Billy!” snapped Wallace. He passed Chase a hard, judging stare.

“You don’t know?” Sean’s eyes darted to Chase, too. “I thought you told her.”

“Don’t say another word,” Chase threatened. Billy stuck his chin out defiantly. Sean jumped between the two of them.

“No, do. Please do,” I said.

“Ember, come on,” Chase had a hard grip on my arm and was pulling me away.

“Stop it!” I shouted. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”

Rain. Waves of it. Pelting the motel.

“The Article violators, the AWOL soldiers. They’re executed, like Billy said,” Sean spoke quietly. Chase took a step back. “She has a right to know,” he finished.

“They’re going to execute me?” I asked weakly.

“Not you,” said Billy. “The people charged. Your mom.”





CHAPTER


14



THE room began to spin. I braced myself against the counter, vaguely aware that Billy and Wallace had left.

“Ember,” Chase said slowly. He did not approach me.

“Why would they do that?” I asked weakly. But even as I asked I knew it was possible. I’d been in the checkpoint on Rudy Lane when the MM had found the carrier.

“We don’t exactly fit the bill for a new, moral country,” said Sean grimly.

I rounded on him.

“You knew. At the reformatory. You knew when I was trying to escape and you didn’t tell me.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’d heard rumors. You have to understand, I thought you were going to tell Brock about Becca and me. I thought if you didn’t have a reason to leave, you wouldn’t have a reason to keep the secret.”

“Get away from me.”

He backed up.

“Ember.” Chase cradled my name as though it was an injured bird.

He’d known this all along. He’d hidden the truth. Why hadn’t he told me?

“We have to leave.” I shoved past him, sprinting to our room. People were out in the hallway watching me, but I barely noticed them. The fear was so thick in my body that I could hardly swallow. My knees felt very weak, but I knew I had to be strong. Yes, now I had to be especially strong.

I threw the backpack over my shoulders too quickly and had to grasp the wall to steady myself.

“Damn it, Ember. Hang on.” Chase tried to pry the pack off. His face was pallid in the candlelight.

“Don’t. We’re going. We don’t have time!” I yelled at him. “What’s wrong with you? We have to go!”

“Ember, take off the pack.”

“Chase! She’s in danger! They’re probably looking for her right now! We have to find her!” Hot tears, full of confusion and terror, ripped from my eyes. I wasn’t angry with him. I was too frightened to be angry.

“We can’t go. Not now.”

“She’s scared! I know her. No one takes care of her like I do!”

He backed away from me into the wall. His eyes were enormous, glassy, and just as terrified. I thought for a moment that he finally understood. But I was wrong.

“Ember, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! Let’s just go!”

“Ember!” He punched his own leg. The move was so violent it stopped me cold. “She’s dead.”

What a horrible thing to say. That was my first coherent thought. What a cruel, hideous thing to say.

The bag seemed very heavy now. It was pulling me backward. It slid to the floor with a thump.

“What?” That voice sounded distant to my ears.

He moved his hands over his mouth, as though to heat them with his breath.

“I’m so sorry. She’s gone, Em.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “Why are you saying that?”

“She’s dead.”

“Stop!” I screamed. The tears released in full force. I could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong!”

Kristen Simmons's Books