The Last Uprising (Defectors Trilogy) (10 page)

“We have to go,” panted Amory. “Now.”

Greyson was already stripping off his scrubs.

“Were you caught?”

Amory shook his head, pulling on his jacket over the scrubs. “Morning assembly is over. They’re all heading out to their jobs in the fields and the factories. This place is going to be swarming in about five minutes.”

Logan tossed Amory his cargo pants as he shoved his feet into his boots. “Let’s go.”

Not bothering to be covert, we sprinted through the parking lot and across the highway, looking over our shoulders every few paces to see if we were being followed.
 

We reached the other side of the highway and took shelter in a stand of trees to watch the morning commute. Men in overalls were flooding out the back exits toward the fields, while others were piling into white vans and pulling onto the highway.

“What took you so long?” asked Logan, turning in irritation to Amory and Greyson.

“We were getting some food and supplies. And we broke into Brother Jedediah’s office and stole this.” He retrieved a large packet of information that looked like official documents.

“You
didn’t
.”

Amory nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

“Now they’ll know we’ve been there.”

“I doubt it. They’re so confident in their security that they’ve gotten complacent — don’t even lock their doors. It’s supposed to ‘build trust within the community.’ It’s all in there.” He withdrew a small book and tossed it to me.

I turned the book over in my hand. It bore the World Corp International logo and was titled
Community Standards
.

“This is going to be useful,” said Greyson. “If we know how they operate, it will be easier to dismantle everything they have built.”

He was right. Even the defectors from the commune up north wouldn’t be privy to the strategy the World Corp leaders had devised.

Logan nodded grudgingly. “Good work.”
 

As we plowed through the woods back in the direction we had come, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was missing something crucial.
How had I ended up on the same side as World Corp? How could I fight for an entity that burned carriers alive and was bent on so much evil?

It didn’t make any sense, but here I was, trudging along beside Amory, Greyson, Logan, and Roman. I had been their prisoner, but I wasn’t anymore. That much was certain.
 

After seeing the commune dwellers through the eyes of an outsider, something had shifted in our relationship. We weren’t on different sides anymore.

Even though the returning pain in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t trust them, I
did
trust them — as much as I
dis
trusted Brother Jedediah, Officer Ramsey, and Mary Beth.

We settled in a protective copse of pine trees near a tiny stream and built a fire. Amory withdrew some tea bags from the stolen backpack, and the comforting warmth of the drink reminded me of my mom and made me feel just a little less hopeless.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I pretended not to notice.

“It’s sick, you know?” Roman muttered, finally breaking the silence that had descended upon the group. “Twisting those people’s beliefs . . . making them so scared they won’t ever leave.”

“They believe it,” I said, remembering Mary Beth. “They believe all of it, or it wouldn’t be so easy for World Corp.”

Logan whipped her head around to look at me, and I wondered for a moment if they all thought I was justifying World Corp’s actions. I wasn’t. I was appalled by everything we’d witnessed at the commune.

“Listen to this,” said Greyson. He was skimming the small white book he and Amory had stolen. “Each Community should be built upon the shared values of its intended inhabitants as long as these values are congruent with World Corp International’s philosophy of Order, Compliance, and Progress.”

“That’s the PMC’s ‘philosophy,’” I said quickly.

Amory nodded. “They’re not even bothering to hide that World Corp owns the PMC now.”

Greyson continued. “For any Community to thrive, there must be a morality code, both to protect the Populace and to ensure the longevity of the Community. That code must serve the values of World Corp International and protect shared resources.”

“What the hell does that mean?” muttered Roman.

“Population control,” said Logan quickly.

I thought back to what Mary Beth had said about men and women sitting apart.

“They leave all their doors open to discourage hoarding and stealing.”

“This is unbelievable,” said Greyson. “They have all these rules: curfew . . . required daily worship . . . chaperoned courtship . . .”

“It’s just that commune, though,” said Amory absently. He was scanning a long list in the packet of papers he had found. “There are hundreds, by the looks of it. All founded on different values. Look!”

“Science, progress, responsibility . . . altruism, order, peace . . . sacrifice, family, security. And here.” Amory pointed to a list of codes running down another column. “Some of these are the same. I think they sort them by state, religion, political ideology . . . then they feed them these supposed ‘values’ that already align with what they believe. They just make sure they’re values that don’t interfere with World Corp’s mission.”

“So the commune we saw near the Infinity Building justifies their actions with science.”

Greyson nodded. “It makes sense. It’s the only way you could get all those people to live together under one roof.”

We all sat back for a moment and let Amory’s discovery sink in. If World Corp was controlling people with their own beliefs, it would be much harder to break its chokehold on the New Northern Territory.

“We need to show this to Ida,” said Logan.

Amory shook his head. “She’s not due back at camp for another day at least. We should be gone by then.”

“We can’t move on yet,” said Logan. “Not until she gets back.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Why? They’ve already raided the camp. They think we’ve scattered. The old camp would be the safest place.”

“I don’t like it,” said Roman. “We’re way too close to that commune. What if they come looking?”

“They’re not the PMC,” said Logan. “Those people don’t leave, much less go out looking for rebels. Don’t you see? World Corp wants to draw their focus into the community so they don’t see what’s going on outside.”

Amory sighed. “We’ll see what the others say. But I don’t like it. I say two days max. If Ida isn’t back by then, we leave.”

We waited for hours, eventually cooking the frozen meals Amory had stolen from the commune. They were preassembled packets with pieces of real chicken and vegetables harvested from the commune’s fields.
 

I savored all the flavors, wishing the rebels could assemble meals just like it. I hadn’t eaten a fresh vegetable all winter. Everything at the rebel camp came from cans salvaged from abandoned grocery stores and warehouses. Even at the World Corp facility, everything had been heavily processed and tasteless.

“No wonder they don’t want to leave,” said Greyson through a mouthful of chicken. “The food is fantastic.”

Logan scowled at him, but none of us stopped eating to form a reply.

Finally darkness fell, and we decided it was time to begin making our way back.
 

I didn’t like being in the dark woods caught between the commune and the raided camp. Every snapping branch and rustle of an animal in the snow made me jump. I was sure the PMC was lurking in the shadows, waiting to capture us and brand me a traitor to the cause.

It was slowgoing. No one was talking, and Amory seemed to be deep in thought.

After two hours of walking, the trees suddenly thinned, and the hulking outline of a tent emerged in the darkness. We all slowed down considerably, barely breathing as we listened for signs of life.

Amory motioned for us to lay back, and he and Roman fanned out in opposite directions to scan the perimeter of the camp.
 

For several moments, no one spoke. All I could hear was the thudding of my own heart against my ribcage.

The destruction was unimaginable. Deep muddy tracks cut across the snow like fingernail scratches, and dead bodies lay strewn across camp like forgotten dolls.

Near the smoldering embers of the campfire, I could just make out a woman hunched over one of the bodies, her shoulders shaking with grief. It was Ida.
 

My heart ached for her as I watched her weep, sending a burst of pain across my temple. Though the memories weren’t there, I recalled that Ida had always treated me with unfailing kindness.

The man lying next to her in the snow had a bushy gray beard. His weathered brown face was completely slack, so it looked almost as though he were sleeping.

Logan let out a soft gasp, cupping a hand to her mouth. “Murphy.”

That name stirred a memory inside me, but it was a foggy recollection. I remembered he’d run a camp for defectors in upstate New York, and I wondered absently how he and Ida had gotten here.

“Oh, thank god!” cried Ida when she saw us. “I didn’t think there was anyone . . . I c-can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Where are the others?” Amory asked.

Ida shook her head, lost for words. “We came back early. I thought . . . I thought they’d taken
everyone
.” The way she said “everyone” made me realize that the rebels were Ida’s family. Fighting in the revolution was all she had left.

Logan sank down into the snow next to her, draping an arm over her shoulders. Kneeling there, crumpled over Murphy’s dead body, Ida looked much smaller and frailer than I remembered. Her white-blond hair hung in a raggedy braid over her tattered coat, and her hands were wrinkled, shaking, and covered in liver spots.

“We should see who survived,” Roman muttered.

Logan shot him an icy look, but I understood. He wanted to know who else
hadn’t
survived.

My legs seemed to move of their own accord as I followed Roman around the perimeter of camp, helping him turn over the fallen rebels one by one to identify them. He didn’t speak to me, which made it easier somehow. He didn’t even appear angry or disgusted when I flinched away from one man who’d been shot through the eye.

A few people began trickling back to camp, looking tired and defeated. Some clapped hands to their mouths and started to cry; others took in the devastation with blank stares.
 

One woman staggered over to Roman weeping hysterically and asked if he had found her husband. His mouth tightened into a hard line, and he shook his head. The woman dissolved into tears, though I couldn’t tell if she was terrified or joyful. The three of us were all thinking the same thing: Anyone who wasn’t accounted for may have survived, or they could have been arrested by the PMC.

After a while, Amory appeared at my shoulder. “We need to bury them and regroup,” he said to Roman.

“We can’t dig graves for all these people.”

Amory’s eyes narrowed in anger. “A proper burial is the least they deserve.”

“The dead outnumber the living three to one. We need to get out of here before we’re next.”

“We have to wait for the rest of the survivors.”

“Look around you!” snapped Roman. “These
are
the survivors. This is it. Everyone else is either dead or in the PMC’s custody.”

Amory held his gaze. “We need to wait. People are in shock.”

“You think this is smart? We’re sitting ducks right now. If the PMC comes back —”

“They won’t be back tonight.”

Roman sneered. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re the all-knowing PMC brat.”

Amory’s eyes narrowed. “They think they’ve scared us off. We’ll be all right for a while. The PMC has bigger problems to deal with.”

Roman made an exasperated noise in his throat. “I’ll give you until morning to get your shit together. If you don’t have a plan by then, we’re doing it my way. I’m not going to get myself killed just because you want to throw these people a funeral.”

As he stormed off, I couldn’t help thinking Roman’s words were much harsher than his actions. He’d told Amory I was a lost cause, yet he’d dragged me out of that sanctuary. He was doing it again now: pretending he didn’t care about the dead after he’d painstakingly identified each person.

Amory and I were alone now. He looked at me for a moment, and then his expression changed abruptly, as though he’d suddenly remembered that things were different between us. I wasn’t sure why this hurt, but it did.
 

He left me on my own in the middle of camp, very much apart from the shared grief. I didn’t belong here. As far as the rebels were concerned, I belonged with the enemy.

Tree branches snapped behind me, making me jump.
 

A boy stumbled out of the woods. He was tall and lanky with sandy brown hair and freckles scattered haphazardly across the bridge of his nose. It was Kinsley. The entire left side of his face was covered in blood. He staggered forward wearing a huge grin and nearly collapsed against me.
 

“I made it,” he said with a laugh.

My back bowed as I tried to hold him upright. He was only sixteen, and yet he towered over me by a good six inches. Back screaming in protest, I wondered why he didn’t treat me with the wariness the others did. Surely he knew what had happened to me.

“Oh my god. Kinsley!” Logan was running toward us through the snow and grabbed his other side just as my knees gave out. Together, we lowered him to the ground and propped him against a tree.

“What happened to you?” Logan demanded.

“The PMC.” He laughed, sounding a little insane. “They weren’t going to take me alive. I brought two of those bastards down and ran as fast as I could.”

“Did you see how many were captured?” I asked, feeling a sudden responsibility for the people at camp.
 

He shook his head. “They only took a few. I don’t think they cared too much about arrests. I think they wanted to make a statement.”

“What do you mean?”

“Raiding the camps . . . making arrests . . . killing anyone who runs away . . . It’s just a scare tactic.”