Page 28

I quickly learned that Hector was just a warm-up for what turned out to be a whole lot of disappointment and suspicion at my arrival. Ayanna led me into the building—which seemed to be a former warehouse—and introduced me to the rebels I was supposed to be working with. A few were nice enough and greeted me politely, but most looked at me with distrust.

I didn’t exactly blame them. As far as they knew, I was a random guy that had no obvious stake in their cause. Ayanna hadn’t thought it was a good idea to tell everyone about my connection to Claire because many of the White Rose rebels had a lot of resentment toward her…or, more accurately, the image of her that the Delta had been pushing so hard. She’d become a symbol for the regime that oppressed them.

I couldn’t deny that that made me even more worried for Claire. A whole group of people were pissed at her for things she hadn’t even done. If the Delta went ahead and paraded her around like Ayanna predicted, I worried that one of the rebels might target her. She was in danger from all sides.

All the more reason to buy time, do your job, and get the fuck out, I told myself.

The warehouse turned out to be an armoury, which the White Rose had targeted deliberately for supplies. Over time, they’d garrisoned themselves into a couple blocks of what had once been the warehouse district, with a tall barricade separating it from the rest of the compound and lookouts on the roofs of buildings. Honestly, it was pretty impressive, considering what they were up against. It gave me a little more faith that they might actually be able to pull off this whole rebellion thing…not that it really mattered to me, in the end.

Ayanna showed me to an old gymnasium that had been repurposed as a cramped barracks. Everyone slept on the floor, often on nothing but blankets. There was a basement level that had showers, thankfully, but the whole place still stank the way any space with too many people stuffed into it would.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, trying not to breathe too deeply, “but I have my tent and bedroll with me. I’m used to sleeping outside, and I like my privacy. I’ll be a lookout on the roof if you want. I’ll even shoot down some geese if I see them. Can’t imagine it’s easy feeding a militia.”

Some of the people inside the gym were already looking at me with curiosity and suspicion.

Ayanna pursed her lips. “That’s not gonna help them see you as one of them.”

“There wasn’t much chance of that anyway,” I replied with a shrug. “I’m a Wastelander; they’re compound people.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. You’ve got to remember that most of them—”

“—were raised to hate me, yeah,” I finished. “I know. Doesn’t make it any more pleasant being on the other side of that.”

“Yet you and your wife got along well enough, it seems,” Ayanna mused.

“Not at first. She was terrified of me. To be fair, the first time we met, I did show up covered in blood at one point.”

Ayanna made a face. “How—?”

I shook my head. “Not important. At first, she just struck me as spoiled and arrogant. Eventually, though, I realized it was like she’d walked into an alien world where everything she’d ever been taught was fake, and she was clinging to that old world because it was all she knew. Once I made it clear that I’d keep her safe, she let go…and I saw her true self. Shy and sweet and artistic, with a beautiful singing voice. Someone with such a big heart, who desperately needed someone to love her properly, without strings attached.”

I swallowed, focusing my gaze on the floor. “I loved catching her singing to herself while she worked on the farm. I’d listen, hoping she didn’t notice me, because I didn’t want her to stop.”

There was a pause before Ayanna said, “It sounds like you miss her a lot.”

I nodded, unable to form words or look at her.

She sighed. “Well, the two of you are living proof that all barriers can be broken down in time. Now, get up on that roof.”

Lying in my sleeping bag more than an hour later, I felt something that’d only become familiar after losing Claire: loneliness. I’d never been lonely in my life. I’d always had Kimmy, and in the Valley, I’d always been surrounded by my people. Then, I met Claire, and I’d never been less lonely than when I was with her. I never felt like I was missing something before I met her, yet somehow, she made me feel fuller, more whole. She completed a part of me that I hadn’t even known existed.

Nothing scared the shit out of me like the thought of never seeing her again. Never touching her, holding her, feeling her lips on mine. I did my best to never think about it, but now, with my wife and my sister feeling farther away than they ever had, I let my heart break just a little. Not enough to stop me from getting up tomorrow and doing what I had to. Not enough to make me forget all the work ahead. Just enough that my pillow was damp, and it felt like nothing else mattered for a while.

But dawn came eventually, like it always did. I splashed some water on my face and took my first lookout shift on the rooftop.

Chapter 11

Claire

The society dinner was a bleak affair.

Or at least it was for me, sitting at Julius’s table, watching as he gave a drawling speech at the podium about the fight against the Order, the disloyalty and disgrace of the White Rose Militia, and then, at last, about my efforts to act as an ambassador to them and a symbol of hope for all the people of the compounds. Of course, I’d done no such thing, but I was learning that it hardly mattered in that man’s world.

They’d held the dinner inside a small, lavishly decorated ballroom in the Pyramid. As promised, the entire spectacle was being broadcasted live across all the compounds via drone cameras, which hovered around the room like bizarre flying insects. I’d never seen them at the Cave before, so I figured they must be for special events. I felt ill at the thought.

The guests were mostly high-ranking officials and military brass. The Director of Agricultural Lab Technology, for example, or General Matheson, who oversaw the Delta’s entire defence strategy. They were all dressed to the nines, and the way they looked at me didn’t do anything to settle my stomach. The high-society types looked at me with respect—with awe, even. The military brass, however, eyed me with suspicion, because they likely knew the truth about me. They were going along with the strategy because those were their orders. Major Hamilton—who stood off to the side, as my personal bodyguard—told me that only he, his team, and the brass knew the truth about me. The rest of the rank-and-file believed whatever they were told.

Polly had returned that afternoon and chosen a ridiculous mint green ballgown for me to wear, along with long, white gloves that reached my biceps. She’d also squeezed me into a corset, which was currently partially cutting off my oxygen supply and forcing me to sit up ramrod straight. My hair had been softly curled and put half up, and my face had a heavy layer of makeup for the cameras.