Three (Article 5 #3)(58)

He snickered. “You’re crazy for putting your name in those Statutes.”

I breathed in slowly. “I know.”

“It’s what we said we’d do after we got to the safe house,” he said. “Tell everyone what happened to them—your mom and Wallace.”

The truck turned, and I bumped his arm as we slid six inches to the right.

“If you didn’t know for sure she was dead, do you think you’d still be looking?”

His voice was different, not quite as hard. Like the old Billy. My friend.

“Yes,” I said. “I would still be looking.”

He reached over and grabbed my arm, latching us together. “I can’t tell Wallace’s story until I know for sure.”

“I know.” I rolled onto my side to face him. “Sarah, huh?”

He covered his eyes with his hands, but not his smile.

By the time we reached Greeneville, the light across the ceiling of the compartment had dimmed, and all but disappeared. Even with the scheduled detours that took us off the main highways, the trip had taken longer than I’d expected. By the time the truck eased to a stop and Chase’s double knock came from the back, my patience had worn thin.

When the exit door rolled up, Chase was already reaching to help me down. Beside him stood a familiar soldier with a hooked nose and toothy smile.

“Marco!” Polo exclaimed. “Marco, look what the Red Zone dragged in!” He batted Chase’s hand aside and instead helped me down himself. When my feet found the ground he lifted my knuckles to his lips and planted a wet, noisy kiss there.

“You’re happy to see us,” said Chase, stealing me away. “We get it.”

Monstrous black machines with silver trays and black rubber belts that protruded like tongues stretched across the factory floor, sleeping and silent though still warm from recent use. Cardboard boxes of different sizes, some larger than me, were stacked against the side wall, and the room smelled musty, like old books that hadn’t been opened in a long time.

A lanky man, with skin as dark as Polo’s was light, stepped out from behind a machine on the opposite side of the loading dock. When he saw me a grin split his face from ear to ear.

“You missed us!” cried Marco. “You all missed us,” he added as Billy hopped from the back of the truck.

“Hey, guys,” said Billy.

Polo slapped him on the back. “Glad to see you didn’t take the one-way train to Charlotte.”

A lump formed in my throat. Marco muttered something that had Polo wincing.

“Sorry,” he said. He reached a hand toward Jesse, who was checking the high back windows as if we’d been tailed. “Have we met before?”

Jesse shook his hand as he continued to assess the building.

“Doubt it,” he said.

“Are you sure? Because I’m good with faces.”

“He’s terrible with faces,” said Marco.

Polo gave him a pithy look. “I practically have a photographic memory.”

“Just like I can practically read minds.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Polo, gesturing rudely. “What am I thinking now?”

“Yet another reminder why I never settled down,” grumbled Jesse.

“Speaking of photographs,” said Polo cheerfully. “Saw a spooky one lately the Bureau was trying to pin on you two. In a hospital in Chicago, I think it said. You should see it. Didn’t even look like you.”

Chase and I glanced at each other.

“Hold the bus,” said Polo. “That was you?” When neither of us answered, Polo slapped his partner in the chest. “Read their minds, Marco.”

Marco grimaced. “Signs definitely point to yes, Polo.”

“Are they always like this?” asked Jesse.

“Yes,” said Billy and I together.

A noise came in the direction I knew to be the office, just beyond the factory doors. Before I could react, Jesse had already drawn his weapon and pointed it at the soldier who walked through. The trash bag in the soldier’s grip fell to the floor with a dull thud.

“Whoa, easy big guy,” said Polo. Marco had thrown his hands up in surrender, though he was not in the line of fire.

“That’s a friend of ours. New Guy.”

As Jesse lowered his weapon, Marco quickly beckoned the soldier forward. “Come on New Guy, don’t be shy now.”

The soldier was in his early twenties—younger than Marco and Polo—and wore his pants and sleeves a hair too short, making his limbs look long and skinny. As he approached, his pale skin took on a grayish tint, and his eyes grew round.

“Didn’t mean to surprise you,” said New Guy. He laughed weakly. “I cover the day shifts now. I was just heading out, actually.”

“He’s with you,” Chase clarified.

“He’s a good, old-fashioned double crosser,” said Polo, slapping New Guy on the back. “Just like Marco and me. We needed to expand the operation to include non-vampire hours.”

I forced a smile, though the introduction of a new player made me nervous.

“Marco and Polo,” said Billy. “Turning the Bureau to rebels, one soldier at a time.”

“That’s it!” shouted Polo so loudly I jumped. “You’re him! Tattoo-on-the-neck guy from Chicago!” He pointed at the snake sneaking up under the collar of Jesse’s borrowed uniform.