The Thrust (8 page)

Trent laughed, but then he realized Barker was serious. “Would that work?”

“I don’t know. I just really don’t want to get shot. Maybe if we tell the soldiers specifically that they could stand down and join us, they won’t fight.”

“Would that work? You knew those guys.”

Barker shrugged. “Some were awful. On power trips. But I have to believe that there were more like me, men who didn’t want to be soldiers. Who were there because they had no other options. If we give them one, maybe they’ll take it.”

“Well, get Clarissa to write it down.”

Barker nodded and went to the little table where Clarissa sat with the drinking water. Trent watched Clarissa as she nodded, her long red hair tied up in a braid, out of her face.

She came back up to him with the revision.

“Check this out,” she said.

Now, the pamphlet added the words:

Soldiers: you can join us. Take off your uniform shirt and Don’t Shoot. Help us save lives, including your own.

“Oh shit,” Trent said. “That’s good. Hardcore.”

Clarissa grinned. “Barker’s idea. And if they take off their uniforms we’ll know who we’re fighting, and who’s fighting with us. Hopefully it will give them something to think about when we show up. But how will we make all these pamphlets? And how will we get them distributed?”

“We can make a stamp. Carve one. Not as efficient as a printing press, but it’s something we can do quickly. It will take some effort, but with a stamp, we’ll just have to dip it in the ink and bang, done. Instead of writing out thousands of these with a quill.” Trent smiled at the delicate bird’s-feather quill she had tucked into her belt, dripping ink onto her pants. “Although that is very Shakespeare of you.”

“I try.” Clarissa laughed and surprised him by going up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting a kiss.”

“You’re doing a good thing here,” she said. “Getting everyone on board. To help us. You’re a good man.”

Trent shook his head. He felt uncomfortable with her praise. His own sister was at the camp, which absolutely made the whole endeavor more selfish than her compliment allowed.

Would he still be helping them if Annie weren’t at Grand Central?

He liked to think so. But there was no way to know, for sure.

Looking at Clarissa, at her strength, her beauty . . . perhaps if she’d come to Letliv and told him what they’d experienced, even if Annie wasn’t a part of it, he’d have been moved to help out.

For her.

On the Taconic State Parkway South

EMILY, MASON, AND SAMUEL

EMILY’S
feet hurt. Hell, her whole body hurt, and it had only been two days of walking. Reminded her of how she and Mason had escaped New York City, one step at a time.

They’d finally found their own little pocket of freedom in their cabin in upstate New York. Giving it up to go back on the road was foolish.

But even knowing what they were giving up, she had to try. Had to join the people in that coastal town who needed their help. Especially if helping meant fighting Colonel Lanche.

That man had terrorized her, and would have killed her if she hadn’t escaped first. So yeah. Emily had good reason to want to fight.

And now was as good a time as any.

“Let’s camp here for the night,” Mason said, pointing to an abandoned building off the side of the freeway.

They’d tried traveling at night, thinking it would be safer, but it was so pitch-black outside without any lights except for the moon that moving fast was nearly impossible. So they were back to walking during the day, keeping their eyes open for potential threats.

None so far, except for the area of highway littered with pamphlets. Pamphlets that had their friend Samuel all fired up, freaking out about the New World Order.

“What will we do, once we find the Live and Let Live man? Trent?” she asked.

“We’ll remind him that he radioed for help so he doesn’t shoot us,” Mason said dryly. He sighed. “If we get around forty miles down the Taconic, we should hit Eighty-Four east to take us into Connecticut. We’ll hit the coast and then start following it up until we find him . . . them.”

“What if is just a him?” Samuel asked. “One man and a radio.”

“No way,” Emily argued. “Not according to his broadcasts. I have to take him at his word.”

“We don’t know him,” Samuel said.

“We didn’t know
you
, either,” she reminded him. “But we trusted you, and now we’re helping each other. Not everyone is bad in this world. There are still good people.”

Samuel nodded, shouldering his pack. “I’m sorry. Just exhausted.”

“Let’s gather some kindling,” Mason said. He looked at her with concern. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Emily smiled, not about to complain. The whole thing had been her idea, after all.

She just hoped that she wasn’t marching them out of their safe haven and into danger.

Grand Central Terminal

EVAN

Evan sat in
the chair opposite Colonel Lanche. For the first time since he’d been taken to Grand Central, he hadn’t been hit, punched, or shoved. Not for almost a day.

It was wonderful.

And all he’d had to do was tell him everything.

“Tell me, son, why you went with them,” Lanche asked. “Because I’m still not sure why I should trust you when you say you’re not their friend. After all this time.”

Evan looked at his hands, still shackled in front of him. “I thought about what you said. That they were terrorists. I don’t want to be part of a terrorist group,” he said convincingly. It was the truth, except for the fact that he thought Lanche’s soldiers were the real terrorists.

“What made you travel with them?”

Evan remembered back to when he’d been alone, hiding out in his parents’ house after he’d fled the FEMA camp in Greenwich, Connecticut. He hadn’t wanted to be drafted when he turned eighteen, so he escaped. And he hadn’t seen his family since.

He’d been terrified when he heard the loud voices of a group of people breaking into his house, but there was no time to hide. So he’d picked up a baseball bat and gotten into the corner of the room upstairs he was in, trying to shield as much of his body as he could with walls . . . so they couldn’t sneak up on him.

“Clarissa found me,” he told Lanche softly. “She screamed for help, but when Jenna, Barker, and Roy came running with their rifles up, she told them to put them away, because . . . because I was just a boy.”

“But you think you’re a man now, don’t you,” Lanche laughed. “Ready to join my soldiers, is that right?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t belong on the Tracks with the women. I’m healthy now, with the vitamins. I can help you keep this place safe, if you’ll let me.”

“Don’t think my men would want a little fairy like you sleeping in their quarters,” Lanche said.

Evan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at him. “I’m straight, sir.”

Lanche laughed uproariously, as if the whole situation was hilarious. “All right. That must be why you wanted me to call off Scar, huh?”

Suddenly Evan was struck by fear. “You said if I told you everything, Scar would never touch me again. Ever. I thought you were a man of your word, Colonel.”

Lanche shrugged. “I am, I am. I gave you and Annie those vitamins, didn’t I? And haven’t I treated you well?”

Evan nodded, his face burning. It was as if Lanche could smell a lie on him. Since all the details Evan gave him now were true, Lanche had been surprisingly friendly.

“So why’d you go with them?” Lanche asked.

“I was alone,” Evan said. “I knew I couldn’t hide out in my parents’ house forever. They had guns, and there was safety in numbers. Barker wanted to bring me back to the camp, to my folks. Told me if I went with them I’d never see them again. But I wanted to leave anyway.”

“Were they nice to you?”

Evan nodded again. He’d been mesmerized by Clarissa’s beauty, and awed by Jenna’s sexiness. Barker seemed so cool, like a real man who knew how to get shit done. Roy had been a good guy, an older dude, but that first night they’d all slept in his house, he knew Clarissa had snuck off to sleep with him.

They were like a circle of friendship, and safety. And they were on his side—against the corrupt government forces that had taken over since the Pulse.

How could he not follow them?

“Did you sleep with one of the whores? Jenna, or Clarissa?” Lanche asked.

“No, of course not,” Evan said. “Barker and Jenna were together, anyway. And Clarissa was with Roy, I think.”

“Really. The man who got shot. Huh.” Lanche stroked his jaw, as if thinking about that. “I’ve fucked them both,” Lanche said nonchalantly. “They stand out, with that hair of theirs.”

Evan choked back a gasp at Lanche’s easy admission. What a fucking psycho.

“I want to be off the Tracks,” Evan said. “I want to wear a uniform so your men know not to . . . not to mess with me. Okay?”

“I don’t trust you just yet,” Lanche said. “But you can move off the Tracks. Find a place on the main terminal with the families. But if you get out of line, there will be consequences.”

“Okay.”

Lanche frowned. “What?”

“I mean . . . yes, sir.”

Evan swallowed hard and tried to remember that he hadn’t just made a deal with the devil. It only felt like he had.

At least now, he’d have more freedom to move around. To get intel. And when the time came, he could be Barker and his crew’s man on the inside.

But where were they?

Were they even coming back for him, for Annie? For everyone?

Letliv, Connecticut

CLARISSA

Clarissa and Jenna
sat side by side, with matching stamps that had taken a day of painstaking labor to make by hand. But now, at least, the work of printing the pamphlets was quicker.

Kids in the town had gathered up thousands of the pieces of paper dropped by the UN helicopter, and bushes of blueberries went toward making the valuable ink.

“How’s it going at Trent’s place?” Jenna asked her, pressing the stamp carefully onto the back of one paper and setting it aside to dry.

“Pretty good.” Clarissa focused her attention on stamping so Jenna couldn’t see the blush warming her cheeks, but her friend could tell by the tone in her voice.

“You guys had sex!” Jenna exclaimed triumphantly. “Wheee! Was it good? Did he rock your world?”

Clarissa laughed. “Yes, yes, and yes, thank you very much.”

“I thought he was hot from the moment he put me on the pavement and frisked me,” Jenna said. “Absolutely doable. Tell me everything.”

“I can’t!”

“Oh come on, I tell you everything about Barker.”

Clarissa set aside another paper to dry and shook her head. “I don’t ask you to, though. You just can’t keep details to yourself.”

“Were you able to jump on him and take control, like I suggested?” Jenna asked. “Or is he the dominant type?”

“Ummm . . .” Clarissa laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I’m not kissing and telling. Besides, he’s still not over his wife. And it’s not like I’m all there, either. I think about Roy a lot. And I worry about Evan, and Annie.”

Jenna nodded sympathetically. “Okay, that’s to be expected. But you enjoyed it, right? Or was it just a repeat of how you felt when you were with Roy?”

“Something about Trent just washes away my fears. I feel really . . . protected when I’m with him.”

“That’s good,” Jenna said. “You deserve to feel safe.”

“Thank you.” Clarissa quieted, pushing away bad memories. “We need to get all those women off the Tracks. Get them here, where they can be safe too.”

“Hopefully these will work,” Jenna said, stamping another paper.

“If we can get close enough to Grand Central to distribute these, then we’ll be close enough to get Annie and Evan out, don’t you think?”

“We can’t get them out first,” Jenna said. “Without them on the inside, how will these papers get circulated?”

Someone, Clarissa realized, was going to have to sneak back into Grand Central. After everything they’d gone through to escape that hell, someone would have to go back in.

The soldiers were looking to kill Barker and Jenna. After the shootout where Roy got killed, surely Lanche had seen her firing on them. So they’d be looking for her, too.

How would they get in?

“Trent could do it,” Clarissa said. “They don’t know him there. If we gave him one of the uniforms, maybe he could get in.”

“He’d need help,” Jenna said. “Trent wouldn’t know where to go, what to do. And he’d be so focused on getting Annie out he might be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“I wish I could go with him.”

“Not with that hair of yours,” Jenna said. “You stand out like a redheaded stepchild.”

“Yeah, I actually
am
a redheaded stepchild, thanks.”