The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(11)

“About time you guys got here,” Owen said from the passenger’s side.

“I’m sorry about the mess back there, kids,” Ms. Dale said conversationally. Viggo was already agape, staring at the duffel bag the two of us were now practically sitting on, which was bursting with a jumble of weapons and ammunition. “I didn’t have time to be tidy.”

“Tidiness is overrated,” Viggo said, grabbing a handgun, cracking the window, and firing out toward the group of guards now in front of our window.

“Seatbelts on?” Ms. Dale asked, as a fresh shower of gunfire impacted the windshield. I winced, but the Matrian technology showed only the barest cracks.

“Just drive, woman!” Viggo hollered at her.

Ms. Dale drove.

As rows of cars flashed by us, Owen turned around to look at Viggo. “I got hold of your friend. He’s moving the… uh, the transportation for us. He said he’ll meet us an hour’s drive outside of town—I gave Ms. Dale directions. But we need to hurry—we have no idea whether Elena will go after them, or how long it will take them to mobilize and follow us.”

Ms. Dale continued the briefing. “From what I’ve seen, Elena and Desmond are likely more focused on their master plan than us,” she said. “Regardless, whatever ideas you have for a plan, don’t talk about them in the car—it’s likely wired.”

“Okay.” Viggo stared at Ms. Dale, who calmly continued driving. “Change of subject. How did you get down here? And where did you get all of these weapons?”

Ms. Dale’s eyes didn’t leave the road, but she smiled a bit. “A good spy never reveals her secrets,” she said smugly. Then her eyes sobered. “But I’ve been in this palace hundreds of times. I know it very well. And I figured if I was going to officially betray my country, I might as well go out with a bang.”

I looked at her, then out of the back windshield, noting the lack of cars pursuing us as we hurtled up a dimly lit tunnel that I trusted led to the outside world. The emptiness in the tunnel around us was unsettling; even in the stairs of the castle it had been strange. Faintly, we could still hear the palace alarm, but it was already fading. “Are you sure we’re not being tracked? Is there a tracker on this car? This feels… too easy.”

Ms. Dale’s answer wasn’t comforting. “We can’t be sure. But it’s our only option.”





5





Viggo





I didn’t say it at the time, but Violet was right. I couldn’t help but feel like our escape had been too easy. Since leaving the palace, there had been no signs of pursuit, and that alone was worrisome. I did not expect Elena to give us up so easily—not unless there was a reason for it. Yet there was nothing we could do about it now: staying would’ve certainly meant death for me and more torture for Violet. Even if Elena had further plans for us, we were going to have to risk it, because time was running out—whatever Elena and Desmond had planned, I was willing to bet they were already implementing it.

Next to me, Violet was cradling her right hand, her eyes closed and a grim look on her face as she tried not to react to every jostle and bump of the vehicle. I looked at my makeshift bandage on her hand and frowned, making a mental note to ask Alejandro if he had a first aid kit when we got onboard his boat. Violet needed her wound treated properly—I was worried about infection. After all, the shirt I had used hadn’t been the cleanest. I had been wearing it since… yesterday? The day before?

I couldn’t actually recall the last time I’d changed my shirt. Time was moving so quickly that all the days were blending together in my mind. It was a sure sign of fatigue, but I—we—couldn’t afford to sleep. We just didn’t have the time for anything more than catnaps in the vehicle. The sun was close to setting, and we had a long way to go.

We had passed the border to the no-man’s land that was the riverbank nearly an hour ago, and Ms. Dale was using the armored SUV like the professional she was. She had stopped only long enough to switch into four-wheel drive, and then pulled us into the long grass growing by the side of the road, forging through the vegetation toward the river. It was slow going—it had to be—but I could see the break in the grass that meant the river was drawing close.

Ms. Dale pushed us through the last bit of thick grass and we pulled onto the bank, where the ground was devoid of any life, thanks to the toxic waters seeping up from the river. The armored vehicle growled to a stop, and I scanned the river, looking for any sign of Alejandro’s boat.

“Where is it?” Owen asked, his voice thick with urgency.

I was just about to say that I didn’t know when I saw it—the beige-white boat floating toward us, the sickly water churning at its helm as it forged upriver. Pulling out a pair of binoculars Ms. Dale had acquired from her mysterious stash—I was assuming the palace armory—I held them up to my eyes, and was relieved to see Alejandro standing at the helm. There was no sign of Tim or Jay, but I could see Samuel’s sleek brown body sitting on the bow—he was staring right at us, his furry head cocked.

“It’s there,” I said. I snapped out of my seatbelt and got out, shouldering the long duffle bag full of weapons. It was heavy, and the strap bit into my shoulder, but I ignored it along with that flash of irritation that came over me when I realized, once again, that I still wasn’t as strong as I used to be. The operation had set me back months, maybe more, and it was hard not to be bitter about it, even though it had technically been my fault that I had to have one in the first place.