Three (Article 5 #3)(6)

Rebecca could be hurt within it.

“Becca!”

Sean’s call drifted over the slimy, wet field. Sweeping both hands in front of me to clear the way, I surged forward.

“Sean! Where are you?” I was glad the rain was still loud. Though we hoped to find survivors, we didn’t know who lurked in the evacuated Red Zone. For the past few days we’d stayed as quiet as possible so we wouldn’t attract unnecessary attention.

Finally I saw him—head and shoulders above the grass that tickled my neck. He spun frantically, still calling for Rebecca.

“What happened?” I asked when I reached him.

“She was right behind me,” he said, a muscle in his jaw bulging. The water matted his darkened hair and streamed down his face.

We pushed forward ten more feet, then twenty, until the grass gave way suddenly to an open, single-lane street. Rainwater cascaded down thick cracks in the asphalt, and weeds, some as tall as me, grew from the potholes. Boarded-up houses, all with a similar brick front, lined the opposite side.

Before I could make myself move, Sean had yanked me down into a crouch. Anyone could be hiding in those houses, aiming a shotgun through one of those busted windows. Maybe even one of the survivors we were tracking.

I searched the windows first, then the spaces between the buildings. Every door was marred by a Statute posting. Even the rain couldn’t peel them from the wood.

“There!” Sean pointed up the road to where a solitary figure stood on the center yellow line. Before I could stop him he was running, and with one final glance around I followed, eyes trained on the houses for movement. As we neared, the staggering gait became familiar, and two silver crutches came into view.

Sean didn’t slow as he hauled Rebecca out of the street. A short scream of surprise burst from her throat, and then she was fighting him, falling in a heap in the wet grass. Mud splashed over her clothes and freckled her face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sean yelled. “We’ve got to keep off the roads, I told you that.”

Rebecca pulled herself up into a seated position, legs splayed out before her. She’d lost her crutches in the fall, and where they usually fastened to her forearms were raw, bleeding patches of skin. I bit back a cringe.

“Afraid I’ll get hit by a car?” She stared at him defiantly, cheeks stained, arms open to the empty street behind us.

“Yeah, Becca. That’s what I meant.”

“Stop it,” I said, inserting myself between them. “You never know who’s hiding in places like this. That’s all he’s trying to say.”

“He’s trying to say I’m a child. That’s all he’s trying—”

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like—”

“Sean!” I turned on him, pointing up the road. “Go find the others. We’re right behind you.”

Sean laced his hands behind his neck, then slammed them down in frustration. “Fine.” A moment later he disappeared through the grass and rain.

A deep breath to summon patience, and I squatted beside her.

“Let me see your arms.”

She kept them locked to her body, gaze still pinned in the direction Sean had taken off. Her lower lip quivered.

I rubbed at the tightness in my chest. “He’s just worried about you.”

“He hates me,” she said, so quietly I almost missed it.

I grabbed her crutches, needing something to busy my hands. Rebecca didn’t have to say it, but I knew she blamed us for her misery. I told myself for the hundredth time that she was better off with us than the FBR, that we wouldn’t cart her around or put her on display to dissuade citizens from corruption. But seeing her sitting in a mud puddle, arms bright with sores, not even attempting to shield her face from the rain, I couldn’t help but doubt myself.

That didn’t mean I was going to let her quit.

“Get up,” I told her. “Enough with the pity party.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get up.”

She balked, and when I didn’t back down she snatched the crutches from my grasp. Barely a wince came from her lips as she fastened the braces around her forearms.

“That’s not exactly easy in case you haven’t noticed,” she said.

I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was killing her and I ached to fix it, but I also knew if she was going to survive out here she couldn’t give up.

I fought the sympathy eating away at my insides and cocked an eyebrow. “Neither is sneaking out of a locked facility every night to fool around with a guard.”

Her ice blue gaze widened. “Ember…”

“You have to go back to the mini-mart.” I shifted. “Sean will take you.…”

“Ember.” She pointed to the trash bag I’d set on the ground beside us. “The radio!”

The red light was flashing green—the mouth of the bag had opened when I’d set it down and now the box sent a pale jade reflection onto the black plastic. Instantly, I snatched up the whole package, flooded with the need to answer, but knowing I couldn’t. The rain would ruin the machine.

“Come on.” I only took a second to weigh the consequences, and then sprinted toward the nearest house with the radio latched tightly to my chest, unwilling to miss this first connection with Tucker’s team. As far as we knew, they were the only ones who could tell the posts what had happened to the safe house.