The Replaced(53)

Griffin and Jett stopped outside one of the few non-tent buildings here, one with a real foundation and wooden walls and crisp white paint that I’d noticed on our way to the cafeteria. I watched as Griffin knocked once before letting herself, and then Jett, inside. It was weird that she’d have to knock at all since she was the leader here.

I was about to ask Natty what she made of that when I realized we were no longer alone. Our drill instructor had joined us, keeping pace alongside Natty. Unlike Natty, whose cheeks were flushed so red she looked like an enormous sticky tomato, he’d hardly broken a sweat.

Even though he was several inches shorter, he somehow managed to look down his nose at us. “Since you ladies can’t seem to keep up, why don’t you hit the showers?”

“What? No, we’re fine. Really.” I knew I was only speaking for me, but I wasn’t ready to go back to our tent for the night.

But Natty was more than willing to take the out, and her plodding stopped and she bent at the waist, gasping for breath. We didn’t need a secret language to know she’d had enough “fresh air” for one day.

I guessed my buddy and I were hitting the showers.

I was frustrated with Natty for getting us kicked out of drills, and with the drill instructor, who gave me a cheerful wave as he took off with the rest of his squad, only too happy to be rid of us, and then with Buzz Cut, who swooped in the second we’d been eighty-sixed so she could escort us to the showers. It wasn’t that I couldn’t use a shower—I totally could, I stunk as bad as Natty, maybe worse after that sweat fest out there. It was just that I wasn’t looking forward to another all-night tic-tac-toe marathon.

We took our time, just like we did with everything now that time was all we had, and when I was finished, I wiped the steam from the face of my watch. It had to be dark out by now, I realized, as I tossed my sweaty clothes in the hamper, following Natty on our way out the door.

It was cooler now, too, as I trailed after her, letting her lead the way along the path to the cafeteria, which was our next stop.

Buzz Cut stiff-armed me across my chest. “Not you,” she said, her voice low. And then she nodded toward another girl who’d been waiting in the shadows. “Take her.” The her in question was Natty, and Natty shot me a questioning look, but I didn’t have the answers she was looking for.

“Why? What’s happening now?” Suddenly tic-tac-toe with my buddy didn’t sound half-bad.

Buzz Cut just thrust her chin at the other girl once more, and Natty was towed away through the gloom, toward the cafeteria.

I told myself it was fine and tried to channel my inner Billy Pilgrim—the whole And so it goes attitude. But telling myself it was fine and convincing myself were two different things, and the acids in my stomach surged with anticipation.

Although I could see fine in the dark, it would be easy to get turned around in a camp like this, where the tents were so packed together, each looking like the next. I stayed close to Buzz Cut as she slipped in and out among them.

The night air was crisp with the smell of scorched clay, and my feet crunched lightly in the sand beneath me. Above us, the night was perforated by thousands of white lights that were somehow brighter out here in the middle of the desert, probably because it was so dark.

When Buzz Cut finally stopped, somewhere near the edge of the tents, I examined the stars. From where I stood, I could almost imagine they were far-off fireflies, swarming, and emerging from the sky to warn of a taking.

The last time I’d seen the fireflies, I’d been holding Tyler’s hand and assuring him everything would be okay, while wishing with all my heart that was true. I’d give anything—anything—to undo what I’d done to him—taking him to Devil’s Hole, exposing him to my blood . . . falling in love with him in the first place. If I hadn’t done that, then he never would have been hurt at all.

And then, I wouldn’t be here right now.

“I thought maybe we were gonna have to send a search party after you.” Simon’s voice was barely a rustle, stirring the cooling night air around me.

When I spun around, he was there, watching me intently with those copper eyes of his. His arms were crossed casually over his chest as he leaned against the canvas wall behind him. “Simon,” I exhaled on a shaky laugh, breathing easier now that I knew he was alive. “You’re okay.” I still had about a million and one questions for him, but I started with “What about Willow and Jett and Thom? Have you seen them? Are they okay too?”

“I haven’t seen them, but they’re fine,” he assured me before I could ask anything else. He looked to Buzz Cut, who nodded, almost like she was confirming what he’d just told me.

But that couldn’t be right, could it?

My gaze shifted, alternating between him and Buzz Cut. “I . . . I don’t understand . . .” I faltered.

Simon’s eyes crinkled as he pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward me, his eyes appraising me as if he could see as clearly in the dark as I could.

“I told you . . . we have allies here.”

No. Uh-uh. No freakin’ way.

I’d seen the way Buzz Cut had smacked him with her gun. I mean, she’d shattered his nose. And, honestly, if looks could kill . . . Simon would’ve been lying in a ditch somewhere, not standing here grinning like he’d pulled one over on me. On everyone.