Warchild: Pawn (The Warchild Series) (14 page)

“My prisoner. She’s on our side now.”

As usual, James does not approve of
my decision. His cheeks fill with red. His body begins to shake. He shoves a
finger at Teresa, pointing, saying, “Did she—is she the one?
Her
? Is she
one of them? This…
girl
? No! No, damn you. I will
not
allow it.” Spittle
flies from his mouth and gets caught in his beard, the white flecks hanging
there as proof of his rage.

“She gave me her word.”

“Her word? Her
word
? What
good is her
word
, Caroline? Go pour your dreams into one bucket and her
word
into another then tell me which one is heavier.”

“She’s good from a distance. We need
her.”

His laughter is mocking and empty. “For
what?”

“The vanguard is two days behind. We’re
too slow, and they’ll overtake us soon. With her rifle and the…the—what is this
thing?”

“The scope,” Teresa answers.

“Right, the scope. We can see them
coming. We’ll have a warning, and she can shoot some of them before they get
here. We can use her.”

James throws his hands into the air
and stomps away. Over his shoulder, he says, “She’ll slit your throat first,”
and then he disappears among the crowd.

CHAPTER ● EIGHTEEN

We’ve managed to corral everyone
except for three small families, a total of ten people, and Marla tells me she
saw them heading west and not looking back. They’d reached the far ridgeline,
she says, and I tell her not to bother going after them. Let them go if they
want. They know where Warrenville is, and they know how we’re getting there. If
they change their minds, we won’t be hard to find.

I hate to think that way, but it’s
too dangerous to send good people into the woods chasing those that have either
lost faith or assume they’re safer on their own.

In a way, I can’t disagree with
them. Those ten people will move faster without us. They can find a cave for
shelter, and they could easily disappear in the woods, unlike us, unlike the
massive herd shuffling along beside me.

Finn is up on point in his usual
spot, setting a faster pace as I’d requested, and most folks are having trouble
keeping up. James won’t come near me and doesn’t want to speak. He’s somewhere
in the pack, fuming, pouting, or trying to decide how long he’ll allow his band
of Republicons to help the insane girl called Caroline.

I wonder how much he regrets his
decision to help me. Does he still think the reward I promised, which I’m not
even sure I can get, will be worth the effort?

Before we began moving again,
Crockett agreed to bury the bodies of the DAV soldiers in exchange for
plundering the dead men. She and her men remain behind and insist they’ll catch
up before nightfall.

The thought still disgusts me—the
way she and her gang were picking and choosing items from the runners like they
were browsing for supplies in The Center. But, if we leave the bodies behind
and unburied, it’ll be a clear indicator of which direction we’ve gone. Breadcrumbs,
really, like arrows pointing the way.

Teresa walks at my side. Her long
red hair is down, and she’s wearing a spare jacket that someone has given her
to protect her from the never-ending rain. It fits well, unlike the uniform I
made her leave behind.

She says to me, “I won’t do that,
you know.”

“What?”

“Slit your throat, like that man
said.”

I have too many things on my mind
for little discussions. “Thanks.” I turn away and try to finish my headcount. We
have a river approaching, and I want to be sure Marla’s numbers were correct
before we attempt to cross it. The way everyone is trudging ahead in fits and
starts makes it impossible, though, like trying to count honeybees around a
hive.

“I’m serious. You didn’t kill me, so
I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I think so.” She shrugs. “You never
told me your name.”

I sigh. She’s not giving up. “Caroline.”

“I didn’t want to be a part of this
anyway.”

“A part of what, the army?”

“The invasion.”

“Then why’re you here?”

“I either had to obey orders or face
a trial for insubordination. I didn’t join the army for something like this. Not
for
this
. My parents are…wealthy, and they’ve always had plans for me. I
was supposed to attend Higher Learning and become a dentist like my father.”

“That explains your teeth,” I say. Teresa
covers her mouth, blushing. I add, “Don’t be ashamed. They’re beautiful.”

“I can fix yours,” she says, excitedly.
“I know how.”

I scoff and point to the hundreds of
people around us. “Do you see what’s happening? Do you think I’m worried about
that right now?”

“I only meant—”

I make no effort to hide the disdain
in my voice. “You have ten thousand men marching on my capitol. Let me get back
to you next week if I’m still alive.”

She’s only trying to be nice, and I
understand that, but the concept of having a smile like hers is ridiculous in
the midst of all this hurt and suffering. There are people crying all around us
because they’re leaving a loved one behind, buried on that hillside, in shallow
graves, miles behind us.

Or they’re in pain. Or they’re
exhausted and can’t go any further.

“Caroline?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that.
It’s war. People die. And sometimes they’re not the right ones.”

“Does that mean me?”

“No.” I’m thinking about Hawkins
again, the bastard traitor, and how far gone we could’ve been if he’d warned us
before Captain Tanner and his men showed up and murdered everyone in my
village. “You never finished telling me why you joined.”

“I didn’t want to be a dentist. I
wanted to do something different with my life. My father’s a dentist, my
grandfather was, and his father before him. Ever since the world ended, that’s
all my family has ever done. We look in mouths. I hate it.”

“So you became a blackcoat to kill
people instead?”

“Not at all. I never thought this
would happen. I wanted to be a part of the Honor Guard. They’re the ones that keep
watch over the White Home and walk beside President Crake when he’s touring the
streets. I wasn’t even out of Recruit Training before my commander saw how well
I could shoot. I’d never even picked up a gun before, but, somehow, it came
naturally to me, and here I am. I had no choice.”

It’s strange, talking to this eager
girl who is, or used to be, the enemy—as if she’s a friend. It was the same
with Finn, too.

Are we all the same underneath
different banners?

It’s a concept that never really
occurred to me before. For moons, years, decades, we’ve been taught that the
citizens of the DAV are a higher-class people, further up the chain of
evolution, or society, or they’re favored in the eyes of the Creator, and that
they
are the enemy.
They
are untouchable and evil, and we shouldn’t want
anything to do with them.

Then Finn comes into my life. He’s
normal. He’s from the DAV, but he could be from the hut next door to mine. He
eats the same way I do. He breathes no differently. His laugh comes from his
chest, just like mine.

And now Teresa. I don’t necessarily
trust her yet, and I wonder if I ever will completely, but in body and soul,
she’s no different either. She is just like me, one foot goes in front of the
other. Air fills her lungs. Tears fall from her eyes like mine do.

So what’s different? Beliefs?

We can’t be born with those, right? Does
a baby know the difference in worldviews, regardless of whether it’s a DAV or
PRV citizen? It doesn’t know. It can’t, right? Someone has to teach it those
things. When babies are born, their minds are like a fresh blanket of
snow…undisturbed, pristine, until something leaves tracks behind.

That’s what I’m beginning to see.

But, I’m not sure that matters at
the moment. The adults from the north are invading to steal able bodies from
the south, and, to me, that doesn’t seem like a belief system. That’s
want
.
That’s
greed
.

It doesn’t matter that our blood
pumps through the same organs, and we’re all alike under different flags.

No. The invasion is about strength
and power over those who appear to be weaker.

That’s the truth, and I’m not sure
there’s anything we can do to stop it.

Teresa looks over her shoulder. “Do
you think…um…do you think that man, the big one with the beard—”

“James?”

“Yes. Do you think he’ll tell any of
your people who I am? Because if they find out…”

She has a point. I hadn’t considered
the possibility, and I’m worried that I’ve put her life in danger. I could’ve
kept it to myself. Maybe I
should’ve
. With hundreds of people to watch
over, James may not have noticed someone new clinging to my side. We’ve come
miles already, however, and if he’d said something, it’s possible that she
would’ve been dead already.

Or, perhaps he, or they, are waiting
until the tribe stops to make camp this evening. Maybe he’s the one that’ll
slit
her
throat.

How am I supposed to lead and
protect so many people when I can’t make decisions that are wise enough to
ensure the safety of
one
? I’m doing the best I can, but I must,
must,
start thinking my choices through.

I put a hand on her back, and she
flinches. “I’ll talk to him,” I say, “but it’s probably best that you don’t go
to sleep until everyone else does.”

Teresa takes a deep breath and then
looks past me into the crowd. I assume she’s searching for James. She nods,
says, “Okay,” and moves a step closer to me.

***

We reach the river by nightfall, and
rather than trying to cross in the dim light of dusk, I make the decision to
camp on the northern side of the rushing water. To me, it seems smarter to wait
until sunrise. It’ll be easier to monitor everyone if we can see them. I’ve
sent Marla and one of the faster village boys to the east and west to look for
a shallower spot, but some of the citizens we’ve picked up recently inform me
that they likely won’t be successful.

Teresa is with Finn. I didn’t tell
him who she was, other than the fact that she was no longer with her family,
and that she could use some company. He eyes the black pants of her DAV
uniform, and, considering the fact that he was an enlisted scout, I’m sure that
he knows. But, he’s also aware that none of the group knows he’s a former DAV
citizen as well, so I trust that he’ll keep her secret. Perhaps they can bond
over being so far away from home if they’re willing to share secrets and trust
each other.

James doesn’t agree with my decision
to wait. We’re standing on the riverbank, shoulders touching, staring at the
water as it pushes and shoves around boulders and downed tree trunks.

He says, “Think about it, Caroline. If
we’re attacked in the middle of the night and we’re bedded down here on this
side of the river, there’ll be no escape, and if people try to run across in
the dark, who knows how many we’ll lose.”

I can’t say that I disagree with
him, but they’ve been marching all day, and they’re exhausted. If we try to
cross now, they could fall and be swept away. I explain this to James, and he
crosses his arms, snorting his disapproval.

“I understand your point,” he says,
“but consider mine. Will we lose more if we try to cross while they’re tired,
in poor light, or if we’re attacked and they try to rush across in a panic, in
complete darkness?”

I hate making these decisions as a
leader. It’s never easy. It’s almost impossible to feel like I’ve made the
right one, no matter what I decide. There’s a large part of me that wants to
tell James that I’m done, that he can take charge, but I know he’ll laugh and
refuse. They’re not
his
people. He’s not responsible for any life but
his own, and maybe the Republicons that are with him, if even them, because
they’re an independent bunch and, frankly, I’m surprised that they’ve trusted
James long enough to stay with us.

Despite the reward, James maintains
that he’s doing this to help me, to keep his word, and he’s only trying to
offer sensible guidance. I can see that, yet we’re always at odds. It’s getting
tiresome and draining what energy I have left.

“We’ll stay on this side tonight. Teresa
says the full vanguard is two days away, and they don’t have another group of
forward runners coming. We can rest. We need it. I’ll send guards out to keep
watch.”

“You still think you can trust her?”
He says it quietly and without venom. He’s curious, but not challenging.

“She’s young, and she’s scared. She’s
younger than me, and I can remember what it was like at that age.”

James laughs. “And when was that? Last
week?”

I can’t help it. I chuckle too. “Two
years ago. It was when I first became an official scout. We had ceremonies and
everything, and I remember feeling scared to death that I was going to do
something wrong. I would’ve done—well, I
did
—whatever Hawkins told me to
because he was my superior. She was following orders, you know? She’s used to
people telling her what to do, like her parents, her commanders… She’s so eager
to please somebody that if I tell her to climb up in a tree and put a bullet in
the first blackcoat she sees, she’ll do it.”

“Okay.” James toes a rock loose from
the riverbank and kicks it into the water. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”