No Return (The Internal Defense Series) (15 page)

Over the next four days, Becca heard too much and not enough.

No one could talk about anything else. The hallways at work buzzed with it; her evaluation subjects interrupted her questions with excited outbursts about what an amazing time this was to be working for Internal Defense. The news ran retrospectives of Internal’s year-long campaign against Becca’s resistance group, as if the final defeat had already happened. Maybe it had. Wasn’t it only a matter of time? Every breath Becca took, every beat of her heart, was only possible because the wrong person hadn’t broken yet.

She didn’t contact the others. She started to call them that first morning, as soon as Vivian left. But halfway through dialing Jared’s number, she stopped. Under ordinary circumstances the support group provided enough of an excuse, but if she contacted all five of them, in the wake of something like this… or if one of them had—

No.

If one of them had already been arrested—

No.

It would look suspicious.

It doesn’t matter, because the core is safe.

The core was safe. They had to be safe. If they weren’t, the resistance was already dead. And she would keep the resistance alive. Even through this. She would.

The core is safe.

But she still didn’t call.

Whenever she heard footsteps, she spun around in a panic. Every noise she heard in the night became the sound of Enforcers easing open the door and stepping softly into her apartment to take her away. She kept her gun with her all the time now. At work, where the metal detector would pick it up, it waited in her glove compartment, and she felt naked and vulnerable until she could slip it into her pocket again. The Enforcers’ body armor would protect them against a bullet, but she didn’t need to shoot the Enforcers to keep herself from betraying the others under interrogation.

She thought about asking her mom for information, but remembering their fight, she reconsidered. Instead she risked a single meeting with Lucas—five minutes at Lucky’s, just long enough for him to pass her a complete list of all the dissidents in custody and to assure her he was doing everything he could. Three deaths under interrogation, he told her, pointing to the three names with neat lines inked through them. All he could manage so far without looking suspicious. There would be more soon, he promised. As soon as he could do it safely. She thanked him—
don’t think about it
—and left before their meeting could raise any suspicions.

She read the list so many times the edges of the paper grew thin and wrinkled. When she managed to sleep, she dreamed of her mother reciting from it while the world bled around her, and woke with the names still on her lips.

For four days, she allowed herself to grieve. She allowed the tears, the numb haze, the knowledge that she had sealed the fate of those forty people that night in the clearing. She allowed herself to wonder whether the rest of the resistance would make it through this.

And when she arrived at 117 for the resistance meeting—their first meeting since the arrests had begun—she stood in front of the heavy double doors and she turned it all off.

Fear won’t help them.

She opened the doors.

Grief won’t help them.

She walked past the receptionist with a wave.

Be who they need you to be.

By the time she reached the meeting room, there was nothing left. Nothing but what the resistance needed.

The meeting room wasn’t empty. A little of her tension eased as the sight of the others. She did a quick headcount—Alia, Sean, Jared, Peter, Kara. Everyone. She let herself breathe as she closed the door behind her.

Her gaze returned to Kara. If Kara was safe, that had to mean Micah had survived too. She pushed away her relief. It didn’t matter. Whether he was alive or dead, it wouldn’t help her save the others.

Alia surged out of her chair as soon as she saw Becca. “We could have done something,” she hissed. “We could have used this past year to make a difference. All those people we could have helped, and now it’s too late. Because you kept telling us it wasn’t
safe.
” Her voice rose until she was speaking at a normal volume. “So did it help us?” She swept her arm across the room, indicating the rest of the resistance. “Tell us, Becca. Did it keep us safe?”

Becca kept her voice calm. “It’s not over.”

“You’re right,” said Sean with a businesslike nod. “We can still do something. It’s time for us to make a stand. Send a message. Make our deaths mean something.”

“No.” Becca shook her head—first at him, then at the others. “We’re not going to die. We’ve made it through everything else—we’ll make it through this.”

“We—” Peter’s voice broke. He stopped to breathe, to wipe his eyes. “We’re not going to make it. Not this time.”

“We are.” Seeing Peter’s body tense, she tried to soften her voice. “We are. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alia still hadn’t returned to her seat. Now she strode up to Becca, one deliberate step at a time. “Just like you kept us safe before, right? Just like you let the people in that transport die so something like this wouldn’t happen?”

Jared rose to stand between Alia and Becca. “If Becca says we’ll make it, then we’ll make it.”

Somehow the faith in Jared’s voice made Becca feel worse than all of Alia’s accusations.

Kara was the only one who hadn’t spoken. Becca sent her a look, a silent entreaty—
Say something. Make them listen. Make them understand.
But Kara only dropped her gaze to her lap, hands gripping her knees.

“So what’s your plan?” Alia demanded. Jared’s broad shoulders blocked Becca’s view of her, but Becca could imagine her expression well enough. “Or is this another one of your empty promises?”

Becca cleared her throat as she pulled Lucas’s list from her pocket. “First we need to figure out whether the core is in immediate danger. I have a list here of everyone who’s been arrested so far. I’ll read you the names—you need to tell me whether any of these people can name you as a dissident.”

She motioned for Alia and Jared to sit. After a few seconds of hesitation, Alia trudged to her chair. Jared followed, with a last warning look in Alia’s direction.

When Becca was the only one standing, she began.

She didn’t need the piece of paper anymore. But she looked down at it anyway. She wanted to be certain she didn’t leave anyone out. Her gaze traveled to the first name on the list, the first one she had learned by heart. “Gary Meyers. Forty years old. Surveillance informant.”

She looked up from the list, waiting for someone to speak. No one did.

Next name. “Sarabeth Piccini. Twenty-three years old. Ran one of the safehouses.”

No response.

“Aisha Moon. Seventeen years old. Resistance position unknown.”

No response.

Each time the others met a name with silence, Becca’s hopes rose a little more. Five names went by with no interruptions. Then six. Then seven.

At eight—
Todd Jenner, thirty-five years old, printed and d
istributed dissident literature
—Peter inhaled sharply. He mumbled something, ducking his head.

Becca’s heart sank. “What did you say?” she asked, although she could guess.

“I know him.” Becca could still barely make out his words. “He’s part of my network.”

“Have you met with him personally?” Becca tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. “Does he know your name?”

Peter gave a small, miserable nod.

If he was interrogated, if he gave up Peter’s name… that was all it would take for Internal to destroy the resistance.

“It’s all right,” said Becca, trying to convince herself as much as Peter. “I’ll talk to Lucas. He’ll take care of it.” One more accidental death shouldn’t throw too much suspicion back on him. And he would understand the necessity.

Peter’s nod was even smaller this time. He didn’t look convinced.

“We’ll survive this,” she reminded him. “I won’t let the resistance die.”

Peter didn’t answer.

Becca went back to the list. Another name went by with silence. And another. And another.

At the thirteenth name, Sean was the one to respond.

At the twentieth, Peter.

At the twenty-fourth, Peter again.

After she spoke the final name, she ran through the total in her mind. One each for Sean and Jared. Nothing for Alia.

Four for Peter.

Bad luck. That was all it had taken. A few too many spies in the wrong places.

Lucas could arrange one or two more accidental deaths without looking too suspicious. Maybe three.

Not six.

Becca looked at Peter—at his too-straight back and the trembling of his hands as he tried to put on a brave face.

There was only one person who could fix this problem.

“You need to run,” Alia told Peter. “We’ll get you a new identity tonight. You’ll be on the road by morning.”

Becca started to shake her head. But Sean spoke first. “The lockdown,” he reminded Alia. “Internal hasn’t let anyone leave town since the beginning of the arrests.”

Peter quivered.

“There has to be a way,” Alia insisted. “We’ll stick him in an Enforcement uniform or something, and—”

“They’re not even letting Enforcers through,” Sean interrupted. “Not since they arrested the one from Jared’s network yesterday.”

Sean was right. Running wasn’t the solution. She had gone over it in her mind as she read off the last few names, searching for any possible way to make it work. But she had known from the start that there was only one way to deal with this.

Her mind rebelled at the thought.
I told him he would make it through this.

But better to lose him than the entire resistance.

Meri had understood, that night in the park. She had known how to do what was necessary to keep the others safe.

Peter, though… Peter wasn’t Meri. Starry-eyed and idealistic, he had been the resistance’s heart in the early days—but not its cold-blooded logic. He understood compassion. He understood conviction. But he had never understood sacrifice.

He would never think of the solution on his own.

She knew what she had to say. But the words stuck in her throat.

Could she demand this sacrifice from him? From anyone?

Say it.

“I told you the resistance could survive this.” She let the others fade from her awareness, giving Peter her full attention. “And we still can.”

Peter shook his head. “Not now,” he whispered. “Not anymore. You know what will happen once they have me in 117. I won’t last five minutes.”

Becca didn’t waste energy trying to convince him he was wrong. They both knew better. “That’s why you need to make sure you’re not interrogated.”

“You heard them.” Peter twitched a hand toward Alia and Sean. “I can’t run.”

She was going to have to spell it out. She made her voice as gentle as possible, but nothing could soften the words. “By the time they come for you…”
Say it.
“By the time they come for you, you need to be dead.”

Alia and Sean both erupted at once.

“You can’t ask him to—”

“—meaningless sacrifice—”

“—can’t talk about saving lives and then—”

“Stop!”

Silence fell in the wake of Peter’s shout. Everyone’s head swiveled to the door at once. Becca’s heartbeat was the only sound in her ears as she watched, waiting.

Nobody came.

Nobody had heard.

They were safe.

Safe—at least until the interrogators five floors down questioned the wrong person.

Peter looked across the circle at Becca, eyes wide with terror. “Are you…” He swallowed. “Are you going to…”

Becca shook her head. “I won’t kill you,” she said. “And I won’t order you to die for us. All I can do is ask.” She lowered her voice. Softened it.
Be what he needs.
“Help us save the resistance, Peter. Please.”

“I can’t,” Peter whispered. His face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

As Becca watched his silent sobs, she knew there would be no changing his mind.

“It’s okay.” Becca looked around at the others, speaking to them as much as to Peter. “We’ll find another way.”

But Sean said what Becca couldn’t allow herself to think. “There is no other way.”

“There is.”
There has to be.
“All we need to do is find it.” She looked over at Kara, waiting. This was Kara’s department—the ideas, the plans. This was why Kara had joined the resistance.

Kara only looked away.

“There is no other way,” Sean repeated. “So instead of wasting our last few days sitting around trying to find one, we need to make this time count. We need to do something they’ll remember.” He gave the room a grim smile. “What do you say we destroy 117 for good? They won’t be able to keep filling this place up if we level it to the ground.”

“Are you crazy?” Alia burst out. “What about the prisoners?”

Sean shrugged. “We sacrifice a few lives to send Internal a message. That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not here to make some kind of gesture,” said Alia. “I’m here to save lives, and we can do a lot of that in a few days if we plan it right. If we don’t have to worry about staying
safe
all the time.” She shot Becca a glare. “Here’s what we do—we hit every transport, every holding cell, every house on Enforcement’s arrest schedule, until Internal catches up with us.”

Sean made a noise of dismissal. “In a few years, no one will remember—”

“Who cares about a few years? Those people are in danger
now
!”

Becca stepped between them. “We’re not destroying 117,” she said. “And we’re not rescuing prisoners—not now. Right now our only priority is keeping the resistance alive.”

Alia whirled on Becca. “Where have you been for the past few minutes? You heard Peter. Four of those prisoners know his name. You still think doing nothing will keep us safe?”

Jared rose. He stalked to Alia with deliberate steps. “That’s enough.”

“I’m so tired of your pet Enforcer and your—” Alia shook her head, cutting herself off midsentence. “You know what? We’re wasting time here. I’m done. You guys want to sit around debating how to perform a miracle? Go ahead. I’ll be doing what I signed up to do.” She started for the door.