The Rule of One (The Rule of One #1)(71)

Just as Ava grabs my hand, a flurry of motion snaps my head to where Agent Hayes was lying. Too late, I see a knife launch from his fingers. It spins like a razor-edged wheel, cutting at me through the air. I close my eyes—what a stupid thing to do—hoping it will be quick and clean. I hear a sickening thud. The cry of agony.

I open my eyes to find the six-inch stainless-steel blade sunk deep into Halton’s chest. His face slack with shock, he staggers, then drops limp to the ground. Before I can think or move, Hayes hurtles toward Ava, his bare fists swinging.

Instinctively, I lift the gun and fire.

Two explosive shots burst from my hand, releasing a deafening ring as a bullet finds my target. The agent lurches back. He collapses to the ground, legs sprawled, eyes empty. He doesn’t move again.

Ava releases the weapon from my grip, and I peer down at a white-faced Halton, uniform soaked in blood. He tries to raise his zip-tied arms.

“I . . . I . . .” His voice comes out in halting spurts as he struggles to speak. I can’t hear his last words. I can’t bring myself to listen.

“That knife was aimed for Halton,” Ava says in astonishment. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

She gazes down at Halton’s feeble fingers swatting at the blade’s handle, buried inches from his heart.

He’s trying to pull it out.

“His own agent. Roth’s man.”

Halton’s movements wane, and his eyes dim. The bleeding is so immense, it’s clear he won’t last much longer. I bend to cut the plastic tie that binds Halton’s wrists. There’s nothing more we can do for him.

“I . . . I . . .” Halton gurgles, choking on his words.

Sirens blast their familiar song. The piercing alarm is so loud, it feels like it lives inside me.

“We have to move,” Ava says, gathering our bags and shoving the gun inside her waistband.

Dust rises in the air from the town, only miles away. From the pocket of my jacket, I remove my mother’s flower. I place the crumpled black-eyed Susan beside the blade lodged just beneath his collarbone. Heavy-eyed, Halton looks at the flower, then up at me, a shadow of a smile on his colorless, cracked lips.

Ava spares him a final glance, and we flee into the forest.

I . . . I . . . Halton’s voice haunts me through the countless trees. Disappears when I glimpse my first jarring sight of the border wall. Despite myself, my mouth drops at the pure spectacle of it.

“The entrance is farther down—forty yards,” Ava tells me.

A drone hums overhead, hunting somewhere in the distance. The Guard must have found Halton’s body by now. Don’t think of what’s behind. There’s only forward.

By Ava’s side, I push past the tree line into the unsheltered clearing. My hood slides down my tangled hair, but I do not move to cover my face. I don’t have to hide anymore.

I crane my neck, trying to see how far the barrier stretches. It’s endless and dominating. A steel monster guarding an imaginary line. A made-up boundary we’re not supposed to pass.

Ava crouches next to the hole in the wall they said was impenetrable.

“It’s really true,” I breathe.

My sister looks to me, her arm extended, inviting me to freedom. “You first.”

I shove through the narrow crevice, Ava following close behind.

The other side. Canada.

The sun sets behind the trees. Brilliant rays of orange and red ignite everything around me, beckoning us.

Ava rushes to me and embraces me hard. Her fingers dig into my bones as if to check that I am real. Our bodies release a mountain of tension, and our fast breaths harmonize.

“The people know,” I say, searching Ava’s eyes. “They’re rising.”

She smiles. She somehow already knew. It’s written on her face. Beautifully clear.

“We made it, Ava,” I tell her.

She pulls her forehead to mine.

“We made it,” she tells me.

Together we turn to face the vast new country, our hands locked as one.

We run. Not because we have to. But to willfully embrace the unknown.

And to prove we’re still alive.





PART IV

THE COMMON





AVA

Forty miles past the wall.

After breaking through the Canadian forest and trekking all night across grassland, Mira and I survey a highway in the distance. Soft morning light illuminates the two-tiered structure, the top layer a series of interconnected parks and walkways, while the bottom bustles with autonomous cars. The four-lane road is designed with colorful trees and flowers flanking rows of streamlined buildings. The great suburban sprawl of Lethbridge, Alberta, lies beyond. Despite the congestion, the energy is calm. Almost peaceful.

Calgary and the Common are less than two hours away if we can get one of those cars.

Side by side, we set out toward the road, me still keeping my hood up while Mira keeps her bare head exposed, her scarf left in the dirt next to Halton. Another person dead. And the toll will just keep rising.

Mesmerized, we walk down the raised pedestrian passageway, glancing at the local shops and restaurants. The paths are clean and orderly, decorated with plants instead of garish advertisements and propaganda. I see no cameras or surveillance of any kind. No one uses umbrella shields or masks to hide. No Guard stalks the streets.