Deception (21 page)

The ground beneath me is spongy with the river’s damp. My boots skid a little as I hurry past the wagons, intent on reaching Logan, who walks at the front of the line as usual. Even from here, I can see the weary line of his shoulders. The way he keeps rubbing his eyes like he can push the fatigue away for another hour. Another day.

When he isn’t leading us through the Wasteland, he’s giving orders and then double-checking that the orders have been followed. At night, when he should be resting in our shelter, he’s either poring over the Rowansmark tech, trying to understand the device well enough to re-create it, or he’s taking a shift of guard duty.

I, on the other hand, have walked the edges of the group by day, ready to fight off an attack that never comes, and have slept in the shelter by night because Logan keeps telling me he has the night-shift guard duty covered and doesn’t need me.

I think it’s because he’s afraid I’ll die next.

Hurrying past the wagons, I slip through a knot of men who talk in fierce undertones while they watch the forest around them. Adam walks a little ahead of them, his golden skin free of bruises for the moment, and his beautiful eyes full of the kind of darkness that lurks somewhere inside of me as well.

“Where’s Willow?” he asks me quietly as I try to walk past him. “She’s been gone for two days now.”

I push a low-hanging branch out of my way and look at him. “She and Quinn had something to do.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Stares at me like he just broke his only compass and has no idea how to find his bearings.

I sigh. Angry Adam I can handle. Adam pining after Willow leaves me fumbling for words. “She’ll be back.”

“When?”

“Soon.” I start to move past him, and he touches my arm.

“Did she leave for good? Was it Frankie?” His voice rises. “Did she get tired of the people who treat her like an outsider but are more than willing to eat the food she hunts and let her stand guard over them while they sleep?”

I stare at him.

He leans toward me. “The girls treat her like competition. The men treat her like she’s a baby playing at war. And the older women avoid her.” His mouth is a tight line.

“I promise she plans to come back.” My voice is quiet, and I scrub my hand against my heart as guilt prickles against my skin. I could ask myself why I’ve ignored the fact that Willow is being mistreated, but I already know the answer. I’ve been so caught up in my own pain, in looking strong during the day so that no one knows how fragile I feel at night, that I haven’t really looked at anyone else.

And if I did look at someone else, it wouldn’t be Willow. The girl who always seems so self-assured. The girl who threatened to hurt me if her brother lost his life because of me.

The girl who has fought beside me and
for
me since the day I met her.

“They think she’s unnatural because she doesn’t wear dresses and always carries her bow and arrows. Because she can hunt and fight,” Adam says.

“I can hunt and fight too.”

“But you’re from Baalboden.”

“Why does that matter? I hardly act like it.”

“Your dad was well-respected. And some of them knew your mother.” His voice gentles unexpectedly. “They think you bucked Baalboden traditions because you lost her at such a young age, and your father didn’t know any better when he raised you.”

I glare at him even though I know he isn’t the real target. “My father raised me exactly how I needed to be raised. I’m not some lost soul acting out because I don’t have a mother. I’m a fighter, both by nature and by training, and they should be
thanking
both Willow and me for being willing to stand between them and everyone who wants us dead.”

His smile slowly transforms his face, and I find myself smiling back.

“I think I like you,” he says.

My smile falters.

“No! Not like that.” He holds up his hands as if to ward off the ridiculous assumption that he would ever be attracted to me.

My eyes narrow.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with . . . I mean, you and Logan seem to have a pretty good thing going, and I’m not . . .” He meets my eyes, but I can’t read his expression. “I just meant that I didn’t like you before because you can be sort of cold. I thought you didn’t care about us. But now I think maybe you’re just really good at hiding it.”

I don’t know what to do with Adam-being-friendly. I’m far more used to Adam-being-angry. I hope he means what he says; I can’t help but compare the earnest look on his face to the fierce anger that burned there just a few days ago. Maybe he’s sincere. Maybe he’s trying to come to terms with everything he’s lost. Or maybe I’m not the only one who’s really good at hiding things.

“I’ll watch out for Willow when she returns,” I say. My voice sounds odd. Shaky. I clear my throat. “And maybe part of the problem is that I’m not standing guard with her at night. I’m about to fix that.”

Before he can say another word, I move away, trying desperately to shove the warmth of his sudden friendship away from me before it can linger and take root. Logan walks beside Ian, about twenty paces in front of the pack. The faint path we’re taking follows the riverbed and then veers east into the forest. I catch up to Logan and Ian just as the road wraps around a corner and the river slips out of sight.

Logan smiles and holds out his hand for mine. Beneath his smile, I see the exhaustion that clouds his eyes and drains the color from his face. I take his hand and hold on tight.

“I’m taking your guard duty shift tonight.”

His smile disappears. “No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” I give him the look that used to make Oliver send me to my room for hours. “You’re so tired you can barely function. If you keep pushing yourself this hard, you’ll get sick. Or you’ll make a mistake, and you know you’re impossible to live with when you realize you’ve made a mistake.”

Ian snorts out a little laugh, and I level him with my gaze. “
You’re
impossible to live with, period, so don’t start.”

He shakes his head and smirks.

“Rachel, you need your sleep.”

“And you don’t? How much sleep have you had in the past few days?”

He looks away.

I rub my thumb across the back of his hand. “You know I’m right.”

“I know you aren’t going out there to stand guard while there’s a chance the killer might come back.” An edge of fear sharpens his words. “Plus, there’s the army to worry about.”

“Who is better qualified?” I ask, and he closes his eyes like I’ve hurt him.

“She has a point,” Ian says, and Logan’s eyes snap open.

“Stay out of this,” he says.

“Logan, I can guard the camp. I can fight a professional killer—”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Ian says softly.

“I’ve had far more training and experience than anyone else in the camp except you,” I say to Logan. “And there’s Willow to think of.”

Logan frowns. “What does this have to do with Willow?”

“Adam told me some people are mistreating her. Mocking her or giving her the silent treatment because she’s different from what Baalboden told us a girl was supposed to be. If they see that I’m like Willow, maybe they’ll have to reconsider their ideas.”

“Or maybe they’ll just start mistreating you as well,” Ian says.

“Maybe I don’t care what they think of me,” I snap at him.

He grins. “Maybe you don’t.”

“I’ll put a stop to it,” Logan says. “I’ve seen how Frankie treats them. How some of the others treat Willow. I’d hoped that if everyone spent enough time around the Runningbrooks, really got to know them, the prejudices would die. But I’ll step in and make it stop.”

“How?” I ask.

He rubs his temples. “By punishing Frankie or anyone else who disrespects them. Publicly.”

“Good, we got that settled. Now tonight. Guard duty. Do you want me to take first shift or second?”

“Rachel, please.”

I tug him closer to me and meet his gaze. “I know why you don’t want me out there, and I understand it. But I’m a fighter, and this is my battle. You can’t hide me in our shelter to keep me safe. It isn’t fair to the others, and it isn’t fair to me.”

He stops suddenly and wraps his arms around me. Burying his face in my hair, he whispers, “I don’t care about fair. I just don’t want to lose you.”

I lean into him and let his warmth press against my skin. “I know. But you need rest, and I’m a lot harder to kill than most of our guards. I’m not asking your permission, Logan. I’m simply asking if you’d prefer to sleep during the first or second shift.”

His shoulders shake, and for a second I think he’s lost his mind and is crying in front of Ian and everybody else, but when he pulls away from me, I see he’s laughing. There’s a note of despair under the laughter, but still, I smile back.

“You are the fiercest, most stubborn girl I’ve ever met.” He makes it sound like a compliment. We start walking again before the rest of the group can catch up to us.

“You’re pretty stubborn, yourself.” I nudge him with my elbow, and see Ian roll his eyes.

“Not so stubborn that I can’t see reason,” Logan says. “You’re right. I need sleep. And we need your instincts on the guard shift. I’ve delegated the task of assigning and rotating the guards to Ian during Quinn’s absence. He can choose which shift you take.”

I raise my brows and glance at Ian.

“First shift,” he says.

“Fine.”

“Don’t screw it up.” He winks at me.

I heft my Switch. “If your eyelid twitches one more time while you’re looking at me, I’m going to remove it and feed it to the birds.”

Logan wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me up against his side. His eyes are suddenly serious when he looks at me. “Be careful tonight.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I’m always careful, but even I don’t have the audacity to lie like that. “I will,” I say, and I mean it.

I will carefully stand guard, and if anyone tries to hurt someone in the camp again, I will carefully spill their guts across the Wasteland floor and carefully wait for the vultures to feast on the remains.

For the first time since Melkin died beneath my blade, I don’t mind the thought of having more blood on my hands.

Chapter Twenty-Two

LOGAN

W
hen we finally climb to the top of a steep bluff and see the ruins of a large city laid out before us, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s taken six days instead of four to get here, despite the fact that I’ve pushed my people to their limits. I guess estimating distance on a hand-drawn map is harder than I realized.

I’ve spent those six days triple-checking our security, encouraging the group to move faster, and worrying that the Commander could catch up to us at any moment. His army is too large to move much faster than we can. Still, every day we catch glimpses of them behind us, on hilltops and ridges, and it seems like they’re steadily closing the distance.

When I’m not worrying about the Commander, I’m busy trying to figure out who killed our boys. There’ve been no more deaths, either because of the increased security or because the killer is somewhere in the Wasteland being hunted by Quinn and Willow.

Or because he’s simply waiting for his next opportunity.

The constant threat against us has caused a subtle shift in the dynamic of our group. Fewer complaints. More offers to help without being asked. And most surprisingly, instant obedience from the most rebellious survivor—Adam.

I fold Jeremiah’s map and put it into my cloak pocket. I hope Quinn and Willow are already in the city, because with the Commander closing in behind us, we can’t afford to wait for them. The sun is sinking toward the western skyline, and we need to be back on the road at dawn.

The ruined city laid out before me is a mess of charred, twisted hunks of metal and piles of broken brick. Thick trees dressed in spring blooms push their way out of windows. Wildflowers grow amid tumbles of debris. And what look like wide roads balanced on thick white pillars rise up from the ground and then drop away into nothing, their jagged edges draped with ivy.

A slim metal pole near the entrance of the city has a tattered, sun-bleached flag flapping in the wind.

“The stars and stripes,” Jeremiah says beside me.

I turn to find that most of the group is lined up along the bluff staring at what remains of the city. “The what?” I ask him.

“Stars and stripes.” He points to the flag. “You can’t really see it anymore, but it had fifty white stars on a blue background in the upper left corner. One star for every state.”

“There were fifty city-states?” a woman asks.

“No, there were fifty
states
,” he says. “States were big territories with hundreds of cities inside their borders.”

“Sounds crowded,” Rachel says in the same tone she’d use when Jared made his infamous broccoli casserole for dinner and expected her to eat it.