Three (Article 5 #3)(61)

As evenly as I could, I walked to the side door and pushed outside into the night.

It was quiet now, and from this side exit I had a clear view of the woods behind the brick building. I crossed the asphalt track that surrounded the brick building, careful to keep to the shadows, and approached the chain-link fence. It was tall, twice Chase’s height, and topped by a spiral of barbed wire, and for the first time since we’d arrived I felt like a prisoner.

The door opened and closed behind me, and Chase came beside me, staring out into the dark forest, breathing in the pine that came on the wind. He didn’t speak, but his presence was enough to tear down the last layer of reserve.

I sunk to the ground and turned away from the freedom of the Red Zone, just beyond the fence.

“What have I done?”

“You told the truth.” He knelt before me.

“The truth?” I asked, holding up the Statutes. “I’m asking these people to fight. To die, maybe.”

He rocked back on his heels, staring at my hands, small in his.

“You’re more than you,” he said. “You’re them. If people fight, it’s because your story could just as easily be theirs.”

I thought of Kaylee inside, a young girl with the same brand I carried, willing to stand up to the MM.

“How does this story end?” I asked.

He glanced down, then reached for my forearm to help pull me to a stand. He reached into his pocket and withdrew something small, hidden in his fist. He locked it into the palm of my hand and closed my fingers around it, squeezing tightly.

Small and round. A perfect circle, never ending.

“It ends with our someday,” he said.

I blinked rapidly, stuffing the tears back down, and touched his face. He turned his cheek into my hand and kissed my thumb, and then he removed my necklace and placed the ring on the chain beside the Saint Michael pendant.

Someday, I thought. When we were so far outside this fence we wouldn’t even bother looking back.

“Someday,” I promised. His arms surrounded my waist, and we kissed in the silence, with only the floodlights high atop the chain-link fence to bear witness.

*

BY the time we returned inside, several of the refugees were loading the hijacked Statutes into boxes under Marco and Polo’s direction. I went to join them but was stopped by raised voices outside the office. Chase and I hurried over, finding Jesse and Billy arguing.

“It’s less than half a day away!” Billy shouted. “Half of Endurance is going there any—”

“Enough,” barked Jesse. He leaned over Billy, casting a wide shadow over him, and lowered his voice. “You could no more easily break into the Charlotte prison than break out of it. The place is impenetrable. Trust me.”

If I didn’t know better, I would say that Jesse had tried.

“What’s going on?” Chase asked.

“Last week there was a prisoner transfer to the Charlotte base. Some from Virginia, a few from up north. One from Knoxville.” Billy stared into my eyes, willing me to understand. “All of them were flagged as high priority and marked for completion.”

The chill of their impending deaths shivered through me.

“Did it say their names?” asked Chase.

“No,” answered Jesse for him.

“It’s Wallace,” said Billy. “Who else from Knoxville would they keep alive this long?”

A glimmer of black hope lit inside of me. A man with shoulder-length hair, peppered around the temples, and a sharp, twisting tattoo climbing his wrist came into view.

You figure out what matters, he’d told me once. And you do something about it.

“Wallace,” repeated Jesse. “Franklin Wallace from the Knoxville post.”

“Who’d you think I was talking about?” shot Billy.

Jesse wove his fingers behind his head and turned his gaze toward the ceiling.

“You knew him?” Chase asked.

For several seconds Jesse was silent, but his shoulders had begun to sag and it was obvious there was more than just recognition at play.

“I’ve heard of him,” he said. “A good man.”

“Which is why we’ve got to get him out before they kill him,” said Billy.

“We don’t even know he’s alive,” I said gently.

“Let’s say he is,” said Jesse. “Would he leave the others behind? Could he walk away knowing others had been sentenced to die?”

Now I was certain that Jesse knew Wallace. There was no way Wallace would leave his brothers—family had always been what he’d preached at the Wayland Inn. But Jesse’s words reminded me of being trapped in the Knoxville holding cells, and all the men I’d left behind to save Chase and myself.

“He would for me,” said Billy obstinately.

Jesse scoffed. “Then he’s not worth saving.”

Beside me, Chase’s posture grew rigid. He stared at Jesse as if waiting for him to say something more, but Jesse met his gaze evenly and added nothing.

“We can’t take these people with us,” I said. “And we can’t leave them here.” Billy looked as if I’d betrayed him.

“We’re wasting time!” he pleaded.

Jesse was right; this was a mission that required planning. I’d heard of the Charlotte prison during my time in the Knoxville holding cells—it would be no easy feat to break into. Even with Three’s forces gathering outside the gates, there were no guarantees we could save anybody without getting caught in the crossfire.