Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(95)

Tucker shifted. “Think about what this will mean for you. You’ll never be able to stop running.” Fear laced through his voice.

“I’ve thought about it.” Last chance, I told myself. But my mind was made up. “We’re leaving, Tucker. Walk away. Or I will shoot you.”

I ignored the hammering of my pulse against my temple. I felt no fear, no anger. The grief, too, was gone. My whole body focused on the completion of this single task: securing our safety.

How like Chase I had become.

“What am I supposed to tell my command?” Tucker’s voice cracked.

“You tell them that Chase is dead. He didn’t make it to his trial. His chart is ‘completed.’ You tell them that he was taken to the crematorium. You tell them that I stole the key from Delilah by force, and when she confessed, you had me ‘completed’ too.”

Yesterday, I’d thought it pitiful that Tucker had threatened Delilah into silence. Now I was banking on it. I hoped this would save the sad old woman from the same fate as my mother.

“And if I say no?”

“You can always tell them that two criminals escaped on your shift, right in front of you. Though I doubt that would bode well for that career plan of yours.”

Several long beats of silence.

Tucker swore.

“All right. All right!”

Something cracked inside of me. I knew I was on the verge of breaking now.

Hold it together!

“Give me my gun back. I’ll be busted down for that.” Tucker held his hand out.

“I’m not that stupid. You walk back down to the check station. Once I see you there, I’m going to throw it down the hill into those bushes. I hope you can find it.”

“And what’s to stop me from shooting you when I do?”

“There won’t be any bullets. You can ask the guards at the post, but that will mean a whole messy explanation. I recommend you come back later for it.”

He kicked the ground and finally nodded. “Get out of here.”

I swallowed a deep breath.

“Don’t shoot me in the back,” he added with repugnance.

“I’m not making any promises.”

Tucker turned and strode down the hill.

The gun grew heavier in my hands, as if I were holding a bucket filling with water. By the time Tucker had disappeared around the curve of the hill, I could barely lift my arms.

Chase gently placed his hand on my shoulder, sliding it down my bicep to my wrist. He pried the gun from my grasp. My ears were ringing.

I watched as he removed the magazine from the handle and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he tossed the handgun into a neat hedge wall, close enough so that Tucker would have to climb back up the hill to find it. If indeed he could find it at all.

“We need to go,” Chase said.

I led him back behind the crematorium, to where the asphalt met the woods. The brush thickened immediately, grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt and ripping little holes in it. Some of the branches nicked at my legs, too. I noticed this objectively, as though I were an outsider watching my body from above.

My mind was still reeling with the events of the last five minutes. I could think of nothing but my mother’s killer.

Should I have killed Tucker? Should Chase have? Tucker could hurt so many others now. There was no right answer.

The trail declined, leading us into the subdivision. We would have to be careful going between the houses; it was important to stay out of view from the hilltop behind the base.

We rested in a tight alleyway. Chase was struggling to breathe and squeezing his head between the heels of his hands. I wished I could take his pain away.

I searched for soldiers but found no evidence we were being followed.

“We need to keep moving.” I slid under his arm for support. He didn’t object, which worried me. The concussion seemed severe. We needed to find a doctor.

It was midmorning when we reached our destination. The parking lot was empty but for a thin, ex-reform-school guard roaming around near the Dumpster.

Sean stared at us, mouth open.

“You actually pulled it off,” he said in awe.

Chase squeezed my hand. “She pulled it off. I did nothing—”

“—but get your butt kicked,” Sean finished.

To my surprise, Chase smirked.

It appeared they were friends now. I thought maybe Sean and I could be friends one day, too. I didn’t blame him anymore for not telling me about my mother; people would do almost anything to protect someone they loved. If anyone knew that, it was us.

I walked straight up to Sean and gave him a hug.

“Thanks for waiting,” I told him.

“I’ve gotta say, Miller, I didn’t think I’d see you again.” His shocked expression morphed into one of concern.

“They moved Rebecca,” I said, before he could ask.

His eyes widened. “Where?”

“A rehabilitation center in Chicago.”

“A … what? How do you—”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s where she is,” I said. Chase glanced over at me but didn’t ask any questions.

Later, when we were safe, I would tell him what had happened with Tucker in his office, and how, now that I knew what Tucker had done, my actions revolted me even more. There would be time to talk about how I’d orchestrated our escape, and what I had seen in the MM base. But for now, we had to hide.