Three (Article 5 #3)(95)

“Have you seen Wallace? Chase? Any of our guys?” Hurriedly, I looked from screen to screen. Every cell, including one with a metal chair tipped on its side, was empty. Even DeWitt was missing.

Billy shook his head. “I saw Marco and Polo. They didn’t look so good.”

“Do you know where they were taken?”

“To the party, I think. They went out through the recreation yard to the base.”

Guilt surged through me as I thought of Marco and Polo’s capture. Maybe New Guy had been the one to turn them in, but I still felt bad for everything I’d asked them to do.

I hoped they did not suffer long.

Billy was still typing, tongue now sticking out of the side of his mouth.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Oops,” said Billy with a grin, striking one final key with his index finger. “Looks like the locks on cell block A through D aren’t working so well anymore.”

More black and white images popped into view on the screen to my left—these of hallways, and doors tentatively being pushed open from the inside.

I ruffled a hand through Billy’s hair and he waggled his eyebrows at me.

Tucker pulled a contraption off the wall—a rope noose attached to a long pole, maybe five feet in length. I took a step back as he loosened the rope to create a larger circle.

From somewhere beyond our cell came a dull roar. The party to celebrate the Chief of Reformation’s victories over the fallen resistance posts had begun.

“Look.” Billy pointed to the central camera feed, where two soldiers armed with semi-automatic weapons opened a door.

“We’re out of time,” said Tucker.

Silently, and without delay, we followed him out of the booth to a hallway, where he stopped just before turning the corner.

“You’re my prisoner, understand?” When I nodded, he placed the rope overhead and tightened it around my neck. He stood back, gripping the length of the pole, and despite the fact that I had allowed him to do so, I felt a hot prickle of shame inch down my spine. To anyone that saw, I was no more than a rabid dog on a leash.

“Hands behind you,” Tucker said. “Head down.” He looked at Billy. “You think you can handle her?”

Reluctantly Billy took the end of the pole.

“Sorry, Ember,” he muttered.

We walked straight down the hall, Tucker holding my wrists, Billy pushing me forward from behind. My shoulder was still exposed, the cool ventilation making my new cuts feel raw and dirty. A few turns, and we came to a juncture where a guard behind a glass shield buzzed us through without question.

Night, and the heavy smell of moss greeted me, along with the roar of a crowd I could barely discern beneath the hair that fell forward over my face. Our time was nearly up. In just a short time, this place would be destroyed.

“Tucker,” I whispered. “What time is it?”

“Past your bedtime,” he said. “Now shut up.”

In silence we continued through a grass paddock—the recreation yard—toward a fence. Just beyond it waited a sea of soldiers jeering at a site beyond the scope of my vision. My limbs grew cold, and my wrists began to tremble.

“We’ll have to go around them,” said Tucker. “Once we’re out of this gate there’s an alley between the buildings that leads into the back parking lot. That’s your best shot.”

“How do I get into the party?”

His fingers dug into my forearm. “Forget the party. This isn’t the Knoxville holding cells. This place has real security. And it’s tripled because the chief’s here. Even if you find him, you’ll never get out of here alive if you don’t go now.”

“Let me worry about that.”

He made a noise of disgust. “I don’t understand you.”

But I wasn’t sure that was right, because locked in one fist was a knife he’d given me.

“You should go,” I told him, though everything in me screamed that it was wrong. “Get out of here. You’re better than this.”

He stared at me for one long moment. Finally he shook his head.

“I’m really not.”

The noise of the crowd grew louder as we approached, and made my bones turn to slush. So many soldiers—their voices snide and condemning. I did not know what I would do should they turn and attack. The rope pressed against my throat, as dictated by Billy’s firm hold on my leash.

We came to a high metal fence where an armed guard looked down from atop a watchtower.

“You’re late,” he said. “They just took the last one through.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Tucker condescendingly. He released my wrists to flash the gold star on his chest up at the soldier, who immediately turned to a control panel to his right.

“Sorry, captain. Gate’s opening now, sir.”

The back row in the crowd turned as the gate rolled back on its wheeled track. Some of the men, drunk with excitement, smiled slickly.

“All right,” one said. “I didn’t know there’d be a girl mixed in.”

“Out of the way,” said Tucker.

“Yes, captain,” they responded. He lifted his chin while I lowered mine. If it wasn’t for the cold sweat making his grip on my wrists slippery, I would have thought Tucker was enjoying his newly earned status.