The Thrust (17 page)

“Yes, Evan,” she murmured, and her entire body clenched around him, pulsing.

He came with a cry, holding himself against her trembling body. Or was it he who trembled?

Evan looked into Annie’s eyes and smiled in disbelief.

“Now that,” she said, smiling, “
that
you can think of as your first time. Okay? Not . . . not the other.”

Evan nodded, heat rising in his cheeks. Part of him wished she didn’t know about Scar. Didn’t know what had happened to him. But she did know, and she wanted him anyway. He could be completely open with her.

“Thank you for being my first time, Annie,” Evan whispered. He pulled her close, hugging her. He wasn’t ready to leave, to go back to his bunk alone—to wait.

“You don’t have to go,” Annie said, as if reading his thoughts. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t protect you if he comes for me here,” Evan said finally. “I have to go.”

“What if he . . .” Annie trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

Evan knew what she was going to say. What if Scar came for him tonight?

“Doesn’t matter,” Evan said finally, pulling his uniform back on. “I’m going to fall asleep tonight thinking about what we just did together. Not thinking about what Scar might do to me later. All right?”

Annie nodded miserably. “Okay.” She paused. “Thank you, Evan. That was my first time too, since the Pulse. The first time that counted.”

Evan felt tears inexplicably come to his eyes, and he nodded. “I’ll come see you later, Annie.”

He turned and ran out the open train car door onto the Tracks and bolted past the other train cars.

He paused at the stairs, breathing heavily. And then he noticed something . . . The women on the Tracks, they weren’t talking. But almost all of them held the pamphlet in their hands, as if they were reading the message of freedom over and over.

God, he hoped he’d find the same thing when he got back to the bunk. Soldiers, reading the message, and thinking about it. Thinking for themselves.

Maybe he could kill Scar in the battle to come.

Letliv, Connecticut

CLARISSA

“We need to
act quickly,” Barker said to their group as they sat, assembled in the small church.

The pews were filled. The people of Letliv were on board with their plan to liberate the people at Grand Central.

Clarissa stood, and Barker nodded to her, ceding the floor.

“I have a suggestion. Trent and I were able to get in and out without getting caught. If we could smuggle the women out the north end of Grand Central before we bust in with guns blazing, fewer people will get hurt.”

“Another idea,” Trent said, “is to go after their leaders. Like a . . . like a coup. If we take out Colonel Lanche and his main men, the soldiers won’t have anyone to take orders from. They’ll have to make their own minds up as to join us or not.”

Barker and Jenna nodded.

“I like that,” Barker said. “Less bloodshed. Can we get our guys in through the same entrance you and Clarissa went in?”

“Yeah, I believe we can. If we go when they’re sleeping, we can get them all in place. Kill them. Then when the rest wake up, they’ll have no more tyrannical leaders.”

A woman from the third pew stood. “What gives you the right to decide who should live, and who should die? How do you know you’re killing the right men?”

Trent frowned as the group murmured. “It’s a good question. The men we plan to kill, they’re still men. Probably had wives and children at one point. Maybe even were good guys before the Pulse. But from what we’ve seen and heard, the top guys are Colonel Lanche and the soldiers he works most closely with—Scar, Dobson, and three others who he entrusts to guard the OCC, the Operations Control Center. With them gone, the chain of command is broken. The soldiers won’t have leadership.”

“And that’s when we’ll be able to show them the truth,” Clarissa added. “Lanche has killed many people. I’ve seen him kill several myself, in cold blood. He deserves to die.”

“So kill the Colonel,” the woman argued. “Why his men, too? They’re just following orders. They could be turned around. Maybe even
want
to be turned around, but can’t, you know?”

“You haven’t been there,” Jenna shot back. “You don’t know what these men are like. These are the men who stand by and watch the Colonel commit atrocious crimes. They deserve to die too.”

Barker put a comforting arm around her shoulder, and Jenna rested her head on him, a scowl still on her face.

“I think,” Clarissa said, “if we can get Colonel Lanche, Scar, Dobson, and the three main guards—if we take them out, we can save a lot of lives. The soldiers won’t fight us without anyone telling them to. At least, I hope they won’t.”

Trent looked at her in agreement. Even the woman who’d first objected sat back, as if satisfied with the idea of trading six lives for thousands.

“I’m going back,” Trent said. “Now that we have a game plan. We have a man on the inside—Evan. If Evan can tell us when those men will be in the same place, we’ll be able to act quickly. I don’t know if they share sleeping quarters, or if they have meetings, or what. But that’s intel we need.”

Clarissa looked at him in surprise. He was going back? So soon? They’d just escaped, and she was so relieved they were home and safe. But she knew he was right. Evan would have information they needed.

But the real reason he was going back was clear. He hadn’t achieved his main goal—Trent wanted to get Annie out of there.

Letliv, Connecticut

TRENT

TRENT
finished toweling off and pulled on a clean T-shirt and jeans. It was good to be home, but it would be even better to have Annie with him again. Seeing his sister living in that hellhole was more than he could stand.

Hopefully Evan would be able to pull through for them. He’d never met Evan, but Clarissa said he was a kid. A teenager. It was insane to think that the success or failure of their mission rested in the hands of an eighteen-year-old, but that was the way it was.

So be it.

Clarissa was out back, gathering lettuce for their salad.

“Dinner’s ready,” she called.

Trent went into the kitchen, surprised to see the fish had been cooked and the salad was made, everything set nicely on the table.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling her chair out for her.

Her chair. Is that what it had become?

Trent smiled and sat, saying grace quickly before diving in. The flaky fish was heaven in his mouth. She’d added something to it—some sort of herb or spice from the garden.

“I’m heading out at first light,” he said, after he’d swallowed. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Why so soon?” she asked, ignoring the compliment.

“We need to move quickly, strike while the iron is hot.”

She sighed. “Annie will be okay.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t even know if she’s okay right now. She didn’t refuse to leave because she loved it there so much. She refused because she was scared for Evan. And that doesn’t exactly ease my mind.”

“How will you find him? And if you do find Evan and Annie together, what makes you think they’ll leave with you?”

“They’ll leave.” He said this as if it were a fact. But the truth was, she clearly wanted to stay and help on the inside, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince his sister otherwise.

“She might be able to help get the women out, like you suggested today at church. Without her, will the women on the Tracks voluntarily leave with you?”

“Maybe not with me. But they’d leave with you.”

Clarissa paused. “Once we have a group of women standing outside the camp, what do we do with them?”

“I guess we’ll bring them to Letliv.”

“How do we get them here?” she countered. “They won’t all fit in the supply truck. Maybe fifty will fit, if they’ll squeeze in.”

He hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know.”

“It would take them a week of walking to get here by foot, and they’d have to camp out on the roadside at night. Find their own food, on the road.” Clarissa frowned. “Not much of a way to make them feel safe being on their own.”

Trent didn’t know what to do. Clarissa was right. And would their little coastal town be able to handle an influx of thousands of women and former soldiers?

“Without the camp, people would have their freedom,” Trent said. “They could choose to squat in one of the abandoned apartment buildings, or to make their way upstate, or to go to the coast. They could access the farm at Central Park and work that land together.”

“So what you’re saying is, we’re going to take away the system that feeds and shelters them, but not provide them with a new one.”

“If they choose to stay together, to work together, they can. There’s no reason the people can’t figure out their own way to manage the resources left in New York. Or they could relocate. We’re not offering a perfect solution, I know,” Trent said. “We’re offering freedom from a tyrannical leader. They live in fear of being executed—they have no rights, no protection.”

He stood, pushing his chair back, and knelt by her chair so he could look her in the eye. “I have a question,” Trent said. “When you were living on the Tracks, Barker offered you a chance to escape. He didn’t tell you what you were escaping to. All you knew is what you’d be leaving. And yet, you took that chance. Why?”

Clarissa looked at a spot on the wall somewhere behind him, as if remembering her experience there.

“A chance at freedom was better than living as a prisoner,” she whispered. “That’s why I did it.”

“So, we’re giving everyone that chance.”

“But it’s not the right answer for everyone, don’t you see?” Clarissa asked. “Annie couldn’t take care of herself so she couldn’t come with me and Barker. There are plenty of people there who really won’t be able to care for themselves.”

“Then we have to trust in the goodwill of the people to help those in need, just like here in Letliv. No one lets Rob go hungry simply because he can’t go out on the fishing boats in that wheelchair, right? People are good at heart, they are. I know they are, Clarissa. I see examples of it every day.”

“What if they’re scared to leave, Trent? They’ve been brainwashed for over a year that the outside world is dangerous.”

Trent sighed. “Nobody’s saying they can’t continue to stay at Grand Central, those who want to. But the people have been so focused on surviving that no one has made any real inroads when it comes to bringing back power and rebuilding the grid.”

“That will change, I think.” Clarissa set her fork down, contemplating her half-eaten fish. “No one’s given a chance to improve things. No one is rewarded for coming up with better solutions. When that stifling environment is gone, I think they’ll start to prosper. Look at the rain water collection systems you guys have made! You have more than enough fresh drinking and bathing water. By next year I bet most of you will have hand pumps in the house, at the very least.”

“Yup,” Trent agreed. He pulled her to standing, holding her against his chest. God, she felt good in his arms. “And we’ll have our very own newspaper, Ms. Editor in Chief.”

Clarissa grinned. “Wow. A title.”

“Some folks have already started growing hemp, too. We can use it to replenish our fishing nets, to make rope, all sorts of things. We’re rebuilding. It will never be the way it once was, but we’ll get it all back.”

“So tomorrow, you’re going to find out when and where we’ll be best able to get Colonel Lanche and his men, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And then you’re coming back?” She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. Was she worried he wouldn’t make it back this time?

“I promise. I’ll be back, with Evan and Annie if I can. Then we’ll all go back to get the women and children out of the building, and go in and kill Lanche and his guys.”

“After that, I guess it’s just up to the people what they want to do.”

“Yeah.”

Clarissa shook her head. “Why don’t we just do it all at once?”

“Because if we go in without knowing where those six men are, we won’t be able to find them without tipping them off—they’ll go into hiding. At the very least they’ll put up a helluva fight and kill some of our own people.”

Clarissa sighed and hugged him tighter. “I’m worried.”

Trent just hoped she couldn’t tell that he was worried, too.

Clarissa didn’t want
to let him go. Not back to Grand Central, and not from her arms. Not yet. She left their unfinished dinner on the table and pressed a kiss onto his warm neck, just above his collarbone.

Trent tilted her chin up and kissed her lips. She opened her mouth to him, relishing the feel of his tongue against hers.

“What about dinner?” he teased.

She paused. “Are you hungry?”

Trent laughed and tugged at her waistband, shimmying her pants down. “Yes. But not for dinner, delicious as it is.”

Clarissa gasped as his fingers found her clit, thrumming a staccato beat on the sensitive bud. She unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers fumbling in her exuberance. His shirt fell open, revealing his broad, muscular chest.