Enemy Inside (Defectors Trilogy) (22 page)

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We have two vehicles stowed a mile away with enough fuel to get us to our camp. We can regroup from there.”

“Regroup?”

She nodded. “We’ll decide as a group what our next steps should be. Rulon’s camp
was
the largest rebel force in the east. Now that he has given in to his fear, we may need to take a larger role in the rebellion.”

“What’s going to happen if some of these people become infected?” I asked.

Ida sighed. “I don’t know. Let’s take it one thing at a time.”

I thought back to the time I’d spent on the farm with the rest of the illegals Ida had taken in. At the time, she had a policy of not hosting carriers, and I hoped her stance on that had not changed. There was a fine line between helping those in need and suicide.

I fell back to walk with Logan, Greyson, and Amory. Greyson had a worried look in his eyes, and I followed his gaze to Logan. She looked paler than she had back in our tent and was breathing heavily. Although the walk through the deep snow was strenuous, I knew something was wrong.
 

“Are you okay?” I asked in a low voice.

She nodded, but I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Even after her transfusion, the injuries she sustained in the carrier attack had weakened her significantly.
 

To distract her, I nodded toward Jared, who was walking far ahead by himself. “Why do you think he decided to come?” I muttered to Greyson.

He exhaled. “Rulon cut out his CID when he got back from Sector X. It was too risky now that they were onto us.”

“And that’s why he decided to leave?”

He shrugged. “Being a mole was part of his identity. Besides, I think he hoped that one day he would be able to go north.”

“Why didn’t he?”

Greyson grimaced, and I could tell he didn’t want to say.
 

“Why?”

“Mariah.”

I felt another pang of guilt.
 

“There’s nothing left for him now that he can’t go into Sector X. I think he just wants to have a purpose again.”

“What I don’t understand is why he came to rescue us if he knew I was the one who outed her.”

“It’s his job, Haven. Besides, he’s loyal to Godfrey. Rulon didn’t care if you two lived or died in Sector X. It was Godfrey who sent him in to get you.”

As the camp disappeared behind us in the thicket of trees, I felt a surprising weight lift off my shoulders. I realized I had never felt comfortable in Rulon’s camp. The two times I had been tortured under his direct orders were seared into my brain, and it was disconcerting to live under the protection of someone who didn’t really have your best interests in mind. I still didn’t trust Jared’s motives for coming along with us, but I felt much safer with Ida and the people she surrounded herself with.

We followed Ida through the woods in pitch blackness, tripping here and there on exposed tree roots and snagging branches. Unsteady on my ankle, I tripped more than usual. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, and the only thing I could discern was the bright snow and the sound of Ida’s footsteps up ahead. It was so dark I didn’t see the two huge trucks until they were a few feet away.
 

They looked a lot like the truck we had traveled to Sector X in before the riots, except these had open beds with tarps over the top that sagged under the weight of half a foot of snow. The tires were enormous and came up to my hip. I knew they would have no trouble plowing through the deep snow.

Ida tossed Godfrey a set of keys, and I followed Greyson and Amory toward the nearest truck. A dozen rebels had already piled in, slipping on the frozen puddles inside from water that had dripped down through the canvas. Greyson helped Logan in first, who collapsed onto the bed and laid her head against the side of the truck. Even in the darkness, I could tell she wasn’t right.

Amory squeezed in next to me, and I felt the warmth of him through my coat. I leaned against him and felt myself relax. Soon we would be at Ida’s camp, and Logan would be able to rest.
 

The truck rumbled, and I was suddenly very aware of how crowded it was in the back. I counted fifteen people, most of whom were Ida’s rebels. The few who had come from Rulon’s camp looked around nervously. Kinsley was on Greyson’s other side, and I was struck once again by how young he looked.
 

“How old are you, Kinsley?” I asked.

“Seventeen,” he muttered.
 

Greyson shot him a disbelieving look, and his ears went red.

“I’ll be sixteen in December.”

“Where are your parents?”

He shrugged. “They’re gone. The PMC was recruiting, but I . . . I defected.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “How did you end up with Rulon?”

The side of his mouth twitched. “I sorta ran into him in the woods.”

“You were captured?”

He nodded. “He said I could stay if I cut out my CID. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

She shook her head. I realized the rest of us had been very lucky to find Ida’s farm when we did.

The truck groaned as it plowed through the deep snow, and the bed rocked from side to side whenever we reached a patch of hard-packed snow that wouldn’t give. It was slowgoing through the woods and freezing in the back of the truck. One of the rebels from Ida’s camp passed around bottled water, and we all gulped it quickly.
 

Logan was the only one who sipped reluctantly. She looked queasy.

“You have to drink,” I murmured. “You need fluids.”

She nodded, but I couldn’t help thinking that there was something seriously wrong. Even her bright blond hair seemed to have lost its luster; it hung in limp, sweaty strings around her face.

I knew Ida’s camp couldn’t be very far from Rulon’s, but the entire journey was longer due to the truck’s sluggish pace through the snow. No one was saying much, but the steady clouds of breath made the group look as though they were immersed in animated conversation.
 

The heat of our bodies packed in the small space began to melt the snow piled on top of the truck, and drops of cold water leaked through the canvas on top of our heads, trickled down the backs of our necks, and collected on the already wet floor. It soaked through our snow pants and refroze, leaving our clothes stiff and cold. Compared to our days-long journey to Sector X with Rulon’s crew, this trip was miserable.

After several long hours, the truck puttered to a stop. I heard the cab door slam and footsteps crunching through the snow.
 

Ida’s excited face framed in her ridiculous fur hat appeared, and she opened the truck bed.

“Home sweet home!”

A few people smiled half-heartedly at Ida’s excitement, but most of us shimmied out of the truck without a word, blinking in the early morning light.
 

I rubbed my hands together, trying to restore some feeling, and Greyson stretched like a cat. I had to laugh. In the month and a half since we first left Columbia, he seemed to have gone through a late growth spurt. Without our long runs, he had bulked up a bit, and he seemed not to know what to do with himself.

I looked around for the camp but saw only trees.

“Where is it?” asked Logan.

“It’s just over yonder,” said Ida. “Not far at all.”

I groaned inwardly and followed her through the snow.
 

This walk seemed even longer than our march away from the rebel camp. My pack had grown heavier since our last walk, and my clothes were soaked through and refrozen stiff in places. I could feel my lips turning blue and ached for the warmth of a fire or a hot shower.

I told myself that wherever we were going, it had to be better than Rulon’s camp. But my weary body would not let my mind settle. We were runaways, and now our lives were nothing more than running from one temporary home to another. We would never be able to rest.

Through the trees, I heard a heavy
thunk
that sent my heart into overdrive.
 

I stopped dead, ears piqued for another sound.

“It’s all right,” said Ida. “He’s one of us.”

Following her cautiously with my fingers humming on my rifle, I jumped when I saw a tall figure appear through the trees. He was an old man dressed in a heavy plaid coat, swinging an axe down on a piece of wood balanced on a tree stump.

“Mr. Murphy!”

“Ida,” he said, turning and setting the axe down against the tree. His face was half-concealed by a wild gray beard and a furry hood. It had the ruddy glow of someone who had spent a lifetime outdoors. “You’ve picked up some strays,” he observed.

“These are the folks from Rulon’s camp — survivors from the carrier attack.”

The man’s wiry white eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his hood, but he didn’t look alarmed. “These the only survivors?”

Ida shook her head. “They were ready to leave Rulon’s ranks.”

He made an irritated tsking sound. “Rulon’s a damn fool. All piss and vinegar and no brains.”

“He’s been . . . reluctant to believe the reality of the situation.”

“Well, y’all are welcome here. Name’s Eli Murphy.”

“Haven Allis,” I said, extending a hand. He shook it enthusiastically, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket.

“It’s good to meet you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry to hear about your parents.”

“You knew my parents?”

“I knew your daddy. Good man.”

He released my hand, and I stared at the ground in shock. If I needed any further confirmation that my father had been a rebel, I had it now.
 

Murphy turned to Amory and Greyson to offer his hand but paused when he came to Logan. His brows knitted together.
 

“Ida! Ida, this one’s sick. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Logan.”

“Have you been vaccinated?” he asked.

She nodded, looking alarmed.
 

He examined her carefully. “You should be all right in a few days. Your body’s just fighting off the virus.” Murphy turned to Ida. “I’d keep her away from the rest of this lot that hasn’t been vaccinated. She could be contagious.”

I was surprised at his relaxed attitude.
 

“I’ll stay away from everyone in your camp,” said Logan.

“Oh, no need, sweetheart,” said Murphy. “We’re all defectors!” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a long, jagged scar even larger than Amory’s running up his weathered brown skin. “Cut it out myself fleeing from Ottawa.” He whistled. “I’m a survivor, and I figured I’d be better left to my own devices.”

“You were up north?” I asked in awe.

“Sure was. I was one of the first to migrate. I saw this country going to hell in a handbasket. Then I got up there and realized they were all fucking commies.”

I must not have shown the reaction he was hoping for, because he waved a dismissive hand and turned to lead us through the trees.

At first, all I could see was the back of a small cabin tucked in a stand of fir trees, but then the clearing opened up, and the entire camp came into view.
 

It was smaller than Rulon’s camp, but much nicer and more permanent. Instead of tents, twenty or so log cabins were dispersed among the trees. There was one large cabin that stood out near the center with an intricately carved entryway and a flagpole out front. The American flag flapped in the wind, and I felt a surge of hope.
 

This camp was not mired in despair. The people here looked hearty, tough, and busy at work feeding the campfire, carrying baskets of food to the large center cabin, and hauling gallons of water.

The rebels who came with Ida looked relieved and broke off from the group, yelling hello to people meandering through the snow and getting their backs slapped and hands shaken in greeting.

“Did you build all this?” I asked.

“Nah. It used to be a weekend getaway spot — a ‘nature excursion’ for big-city yuppies looking to escape the rat race. We were lucky to find this place. No electricity and no running water when it’s this cold, but there’s a nice lake for fishing and plenty of game in the area. Really stupid deer, actually. They’re a little too used to humans . . . almost takes the fun out of it.”

He gestured to the largest cabin. “That over there is the mess hall. Morning mess is served after the hunt, noon mess is at noon, and evening mess is served at sundown. You’ll hear the bell.

“Each camper’s duties will be posted outside the mess hall. Work is from dawn ’til dusk, and when you’re not working, you’re training. Now which of you are good with a rifle?”

Logan raised her hand, along with a few others.
 

Murphy nodded. “You’ll be in the hunting party. What we don’t eat, we trade for food at the Exchange. No sucking at the PMC’s teat here. Rulon’s lucky those bastards haven’t poisoned his corn flakes yet.”

Greyson snorted in appreciation.

“We’ve only got a few rules here. Don’t leave food out. We’re in bear country. Drag animal carcasses far out away from camp, too. Don’t steal from the supply cabin — Mrs. Miller gets real agitated when supplies turn up missing. Don’t venture out alone, especially without a weapon. Don’t trust anyone you meet in the woods. Bring ’em straight to me. Shoot any carriers on sight, and don’t throw trash down the pisser. Any questions?”

We all shook our heads, and Murphy led us out to show us to our new sleeping quarters.
 

“Two empty beds in cabin twelve for the ladies,” he directed. “You’ll be bunking with Maggie, Dolores, and Camille.”

Logan and I broke off from the group. Up close, you could tell that these cabins had been built to house tourists and were designed to withstand the elements. The wood had a shiny finish, and there were bears and leaves carved into the posts that wrapped around the small porch. We stomped the snow off our boots and pushed open the creaky door.

Dim morning light filtered in through the windows, illuminating six beds facing each other from opposite walls. Three were covered in a double layer of heavy quilts. Slippers, drying socks, sweatshirts, and a few books were scattered around the cabin in the orbit of the occupied beds.