Recoil (22 page)

Chapter 25

Really Bad and Even Worse

Perhaps Quinn registered me at the same moment, because he
stopped dead and stared back at me, the expression on his face transforming
from surprise to puzzlement to anger in a second.

I stopped, too. Feet glued to the sidewalk, mere meters from them
both. A trembling was moving through my body, a panic taking hold of my mind.
What was I supposed to do?

“Quinn?” said Connor, looking from his brother to me, clearly
puzzled. Not yet alarmed.

“You told them? About me, about him? That was what you had to do
last night after I left? That was why you wanted to me to go?” Quinn hissed at
me.

“I
didn
—” I began, my voice high and
breathy, but Bruce shouted in my ear.

“Do it, Blue. Do it now. Your orders are to take the shot. Drop
him!”

“
Jinxy
! Don’t do it. It’s my brother.
He’s not a terrorist, not a rabid,” Quinn pleaded, reaching out as if to stay
my hand.

I looked down at it, saw that my hand gripped the dart gun. When
had I pulled it out of my bag?

“
Jinxy
, please. For me.” Quinn.

“You’d better take the shot, Blue.” Bruce.

“No.” Me.

“What’s going on here?” Connor.

“Because if you don’t,” said Bruce, his voice low and menacing.
“I will.”

“No!”

“I’ll take him down, and I’ve got live ammo. And it’ll be a
pleasure.” Only I could hear Bruce. Only I knew the real extent of the threat.

Quinn’s words from the previous night were reverberating through
me.
Everything
revolves around fear.

“You know what they’ll do to him,
Jinxy
,
you
know
!”
Quinn was desperate.

Enhanced interrogation techniques. Tried for treason.

“But you know, Blue, I might not hit the
tango.
I’m not as good a shot as you. You know how I tend to pull to the left.”

Still I hesitated.

“I might aim for the tango and take out your leprechaun by
mistake. And wouldn’t that be a tragedy? But at least I’d see some splash and
know how to correct my aim for the next shot. Two birds with, well, not one
stone, but one opportunity.”

A new flash — Quinn, lying bleeding on the sidewalk. Lying dead.
I couldn’t let it happen. I lifted my dart-gun.

“No!” Quinn stepped in front of his brother, who thrust him
aside.

My heart was thudding in my throat, my outstretched hand
trembling. I didn’t know what to do. If I darted Connor, they’d take him in for
questioning. Quinn would hate me. I’d lose him for sure. But if I didn’t, Bruce
would fire. He would drop Quinn’s brother and maybe even Quinn himself. Either
way, I lost. And Quinn lost. It was a choice between really bad and even worse.

It’s not about them, it’s about us. It’s not what we’re prepared
to allow to happen to them.

“I’m counting to three, Blue, then I’ll take the shot for you.
One …”

Choose,
Jinxy
, choose now.

“Two … I mean it!”

It’s about what we’re prepared to do, who we’re prepared to
become.

“And …”

As Bruce said, “Three”, I fired.

Connor folded in on himself and crumpled to the ground, the dart
sticking from his neck.

“Bitch!” said Quinn. The gray eyes blazed with hatred at my
betrayal now.

Have I told you,
Jinxy
, that I love
you?

Quinn glanced back, noted the advancing black Hummer and the
white van behind it, looked down at his brother, realized that he’d never be able
to carry him, and ran straight past me. I stood trembling on the spot, my knees
locked to stop me collapsing, watching as Connor was hauled like a sack of
potatoes into the black Hummer.

“Blue! Blue!”

I twisted around. The white
van had cut off Quinn’s escape. Bruce and the driver were wrestling a thrashing
Quinn inside. Fiona was suddenly at my side, dragging me back by the elbow and
shoving me inside the van, too. She pushed me into a seat. And then I was
opposite Quinn again, just I had been on the first day we met. Straining
against the plastic cable ties which bound his hands behind his back, he glared
at me. His face was a rictus of rage. The van pulled off with a lurch. I stared
down at his checkered sneakers, at the dart-gun in my gloved hand, lying limply
in the pink satin of my lap.

“You promised you wouldn’t. I
trusted you!” Quinn snarled at me.

He thought I’d ratted on him, that I’d told
Sarge
when and where he’d be meeting his brother.

“I didn’t!”

“How would they know otherwise?”

“Shut up!” Bruce elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Are you going to kill me too now?”

“Can be arranged,” said Bruce. “Easy.”

“Cool it, Bruce,” said Fiona. “No one is shooting anyone.”

Yet.

“You are going to be confined to your quarters, specialist,”
Fiona said to Quinn. “We have some questions to ask you.”

They were going to interrogate Quinn.
Interview and debrief.

“About leaving the Academy compound.”

“I had permission. I was granted leave to visit my sick
grandmother.”

“Only you didn’t visit your granny. You’ve been consorting with a
known traitor.”

“He’s not a traitor!”

Quinn struggled against Bruce and kicked out savagely at Fiona
and me. Fiona managed to pull her legs out of the way, but a black-and-white
sneaker connected hard with my shin. Bruce twisted to face Quinn and pressed
the muzzle of his sidearm against Quinn’s temple.

“Sit still or I’ll shoot you myself. You know I want to.”

“Go to hell!” Quinn spat out. He lunged upwards, shouting at me,
“You don’t even know the half of it. Should I tell you what else they did?”

Fiona nodded at Bruce. His thumb moved the safety catch off.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I lifted my dart gun and shot
Quinn in the chest. The outrage had not yet faded from his eyes when he slumped
forward. I reached out both hands, steadied him and pushed him back gently into
his seat.

Bruce eased the safety back on and glared at me.

“I’m guessing there will be some questions for you, too, Blue,”
said Fiona.

“Yeah, what the hell was he talking about?” demanded Bruce.

I said nothing. I was doing tactical breathing to put the brakes
on my rising panic. I needed to think. Hard.

I’m trusting you,
Jinxy
, with my life.

Chapter 26

Dirty Rat

The sun was setting, staining the sky with streaks of vermillion
and violet, as we returned to the ASTA headquarters. Quinn was beginning to
come around. He blinked blearily at me, shook his head and seemed to register
where he was and what had happened. Who had done
it.
He glared at me and then made a rush to leap out of the van as soon as the door
slid open. He toppled against a seat and was hauled back onto his feet by Bruce
and Fiona, who half-supported and half-dragged him, tripping and stumbling, out
of the van and up the ramp into the transport bay.

I followed behind, my stomach churning, my mind racing, my eyes
on the ground.
Leya
was waiting for us in the bay
with Cameron standing a little way behind her. Had they heard about our
mission?

“You’re back,” said
Leya
, rubbing a
finger over the tattoo on her temple. Her face wore an odd expression —
somewhere between satisfaction and resignation.

“Another successful mission by our unit,” said Bruce, releasing
his hold on Quinn to blow the smoking barrel of an imaginary gun.

Quinn sagged against Fiona then slid to his knees.

“Pitiful.”
Sarge
exited the armory, walked
toward our little group, and stared down at Quinn with contempt etched across
his features.

“Fiona, my office for a mission debrief. Bruce, haul his ass to
his quarters and confine him there. Stand guard until I send further
instructions.”

“Yes, sir,” said Bruce, yanking Quinn to his feet.

“
Leya
, you’d better help him with the
prisoner. Then go advise Ms. Roth of developments and report to my office — we
have a lot to chat about. Blue, I don’t know why you’re standing there like a
deer in the headlights. Return your weapon to the armory and then go to your
quarters. And stay there.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, then asked Bruce, “Do you want me to check
your weapons in for you?” I didn’t like the idea of him being armed while he
was with Quinn.

“No. I might need them,” said Bruce.

“Sir?” I appealed to
Sarge
, but he was
already turning to leave with Fiona.

“Don’t you hurt him,” I whispered furiously at Bruce.

“
Leya
, some help here?” Bruce said.

Quinn was half a foot taller than him and still not steady on his
feet.

“Coming,” said
Leya
. Her brows drew
together as she laid a hand briefly on my arm. “I decided I’d wait and see what
happened first. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to —” She cut herself off, then
continued, “Because he’s a nice guy, and I’m sorry, Jinx. I really am. But it’s
my job.”

She moved to the other side of Quinn, and she and Bruce led him
away. His right foot dragged behind him, and the sneaker slipped off and lay on
the dirty concrete floor. I walked over and picked it up, still puzzling over
Leya’s
words. Cameron came to stand next to me, and we
watched them disappear through the door while he cleaned his glasses on a
Kleenex. His face looked bare without the specs.

“I’m confused. What on earth did
Leya
mean?”

Cameron, his unfocused gaze still on
Leya
,
spoke softly. “She knows.”

I glanced up at him. For once, his face wasn’t impassive. He
looked sad.

“Knows what?” I asked.

“Everything.” He sighed, putting his glasses back on. “She’s a
mole.”

Those three words were a punch to the gut.

A stream of images flowed through my mind.
Leya
,
always quizzing everyone on their politics, always fishing for their views.
Leya
, texting about our ratting mission — intentionally
testing to see if everyone in
intel
could keep a
secret, and later ratting on Quinn’s warning?
Leya
,
chatting with Roberta Roth down a deserted hallway, smiling and joking, “She
only wanted to know how I’m getting along with the job”.
Leya
,
having no family visits — was she even a teenager?
Leya
,
never as good a shot as the rest of us, not good enough, really, to have earned
her Game score or been recruited for the unit. Had she even actually shot Juan
in the simulation? Perhaps he had simply crushed a green paintball and smeared
it on himself, all part of the setup.
Leya
, being
supportive and understanding and encouraging me through all my doubts and
struggles. Had it all been an act? Had she cared for me at all, or only
pretended to be my friend so she could help me be the best little shooter in
all of ASTA?

I clenched my teeth when I thought about how she had been all
sympathetic to me after my bust-up with Quinn, all the while fishing for the
reasons. And last night, coming into my room without waiting to be asked in,
glancing at the side table, seeing Quinn’s phone. It all clicked into place.

And Cameron. Quiet Cameron. Observant Cameron. Always shadowing
Leya
— listening, watching, thinking.

“Hurry,” he said.

I grabbed him and kissed him on the cheek, whispered, “Thank
you!” and set off, running.

Chapter 27

In Case of Emergency

I darted past the armory through the doors and
decon
unit, and sprinted towards the northeast wing. The
sneaker and dart gun inside my denim bag bounced against my side. It was
dinnertime so the hallways were mostly empty, but my little-girl getup and frantic
pace still attracted one or two curious glances. I was just in time to see
Leya
and Bruce lead their prisoner through the entrance to
his wing.

Quinn seemed steadier on his feet now. Good.

I ducked under the secret staircase and waited until
Leya
re-emerged and walked off in the direction of
Sarge’s
office. No doubt the backstabbing, double-crossing
sneak of a dirty rat-snitching bitch was off to raise the alarm. That gave me
an idea.

It was an emergency — a good
time, if ever there was one, to break some glass. I waited a few more minutes
to give
Leya
enough time to be well away from this
section of the compound, then took the dart gun out my bag and slammed its butt
into the glass front panel of the fire alarm. As soon as I pulled the white
T-handle down, a siren screamed through the compound. I picked the longest,
sharpest shard of glass up off the floor and tucked it into Quinn’s sneaker
inside my bag; it never hurt to have extra
weapons.

I pressed myself against the underside of the stairs as a group
of people passed on their way to the nearest exit. A minute later, a couple of
cadets and a trainer from the blue unit exited the northeast wing.

“Do you think it’s another drill?” one asked.

“Got to be.”

“Damn! I’ll never get back to sleep after this. And my shift
starts at midnight.”

I stowed my weapon and waited a little longer, hoping that Bruce
would come out and leave Quinn locked inside — that would be entirely like him.
Even if he dragged Quinn out with him, I could dart Bruce and try to get Quinn
away in the confusion of the evacuation. But after a few minutes with no one
else emerging, I figured Bruce didn’t intend to come out. Maybe he rated
Sarge’s
orders to stay put higher than a fire drill. That
figured. Bruce would rate
Sarge’s
orders higher than
a direct command from God.

I slipped out from under the staircase and entered the northeast
wing, aware that my movements would be picked up by the cameras. I would need a
cover story after this to account for my actions. I could say that I was checking
whether my team-member had needed help with evacuating himself and his
prisoner. I ran up the stairs to Quinn’s first-floor room and pounded on the
door.

“Bruce! It’s me, Blue. Open up — there’s a fire!”

The door was flung open, and I was looking into Quinn’s gray
eyes.

“You!” he spat out.

“Not now, okay?” I said.

“You betrayed us. You shot my brother, you shot me!”

“I darted you both, there’s a difference,” I said, stepping
around him to where Bruce stood with his sidearm pressed against Quinn’s back.

“What was that — back there?” I said to Bruce. “I thought you
were on the mission as backup to protect me.”

“I
was
protecting you. What do you think would have
happened to you if you’d wimped out? They’re already suspicious of your
relationship with this one.” Bruce gave Quinn a sharp poke in the back with the
pistol, turning him away from the door.

I smacked his hand away. “What is it with you and guns?” I
snapped.

“I’m a professional marksman,” said Bruce, kicking the door
closed and gesturing Quinn over to sit on the bed. “Guns is what I do.”

“And are you a professional snitch, too?”

“A snitch?”

“Like
Leya
.”

“
Leya’s
not a snitch,” Bruce said,
sounding appalled.

“Oh yes, she is. She’s in
Sarge’s
office now, giving her report on her precious team members. Guess
Squad before
Blood
isn’t her motto.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She’s a plant, a mole. She’s been playing us since the
beginning. Running to them and telling tales about all of us.”

“That is … Dude, that is so bad, I don’t even have a word for
it!” Bruce looked genuinely furious. His face was red, his thick brows pulled
down into a single line, and the hand without the weapon was clenched in a
fist. “She broke the code!”

“Hey, I guess she was only following orders,” I needled.

“You think —
Sarge
?”

“Of course
Sarge
.”

“No. No, man.” Bruce looked like everything he’d believed in was
turning out to be false, everyone he’d trusted had turned out to be
undeserving. Yeah, welcome to the real world,
Brucey
-baby.

“You should go give
Leya
a piece of
your mind,” I urged. “If you’re quick enough, you might even catch her before
she reaches
Sarge
.”

“Yeah! I will, I’ll go right now!” His hand was already on the
door handle when he stopped and turned back to face me, smiling ruefully and
shaking his head. “Nice try, Blue. But I’m not falling for it.”

Cursing wildly inside my head, I forced my face to stay neutral.

“Fine, it’s no skin off my back — I haven’t done anything wrong.
But I thought you really valued loyalty.”

“I do. Loyalty to my squad” — I made a disbelieving noise — “loyalty
to my country and to the people who protect its citizens.”

“Oh, please,” said Quinn. “Protect its interests, maybe. But its
citizens? Not so much.”

“Who asked you for your opinion, you commie traitor?”

“Yeah, shut up,” I added, partly because I didn’t want Quinn to
provoke Bruce any further, and partly to lull Bruce into thinking I was still
on his side. “You haven’t been out there like we have, risking our lives to
shoot infected rats and take down terrorists. We’ve probably saved a bunch of
lives, protecting and serving our government, and its people.”

“Yeah!” Bruce held up his left hand for a fist-bump, and though
it pained me to do it, I touched my knuckles to his.

“You are such a fool!” said Quinn. “
Protecting and serving your
government
. I wonder if you’d still feel that way if you knew the
truth.”

What truth? Was there more to know? He’d said something last
night about there being something else I needed to see.

“Don’t listen to him, Blue. He’s trying to mess with your head,
to distract you.”

It
was
distracting me.

“Should I tell you?” Quinn said.

“Ignore him, Blue, just ignore him. It’s all BS.” Bruce pointed a
finger at Quinn. “And you,
O’Riley
— shut up, or I’ll
make you!”

I gave myself a mental shake. I could ask Quinn what he meant
later, when Bruce had been dealt with. I forced my thoughts back to the
present, back to the vague plan I’d devised for getting us out of here, a plan
which began with getting Quinn’s hands free and overpowering Bruce.

I twisted my mouth in a sneer and spoke to Quinn.

“And you look ridiculous with only one shoe. The other one’s in
there.” I took a step closer to Quinn and tossed my bag casually onto the bed
beside him. “Put it on, they’ll be coming for you soon.”

He glared at me, twisted his shoulders to show me the cable ties
snaring his wrists. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my hands are tied.”

“Whatever,” I said, and with my back momentarily to Bruce, I
stared hard into Quinn’s furious eyes, then at the bag, then back again, before
slowly turning back around.

“And they’re going to stay tied,” Bruce snarled at Quinn.

I stepped closer to Bruce, trying to block his view of Quinn,
trying to keep his attention on me.

All the while my eyes were scanning the room, noticing objects
and distances and potentials. Bruce, armed with a sidearm — between me and the
door, blocking my exit. Me — between Bruce and Quinn, blocking Bruce’s
sight-lines. Bruce’s rifle — leaning up against the wall to the far side of the
desk. Quinn’s phone, loaded with the incriminating video and who knew what else
— visible through the open door to the bathroom, lying on the slab beside the
basin. The clock on the shelf beside the door, ticking away the minutes
impossibly fast. Bright lights blazing through the window as the compound
lights switched on in the darkening evening outside.

“Maybe I should help him put on his shoe?” I said, knowing how
Bruce would respond, but playing for time.

“No you shouldn’t. If he doesn’t like wearing only one shoe, he
can kick the other one off and go barefoot.
That
won’t kill him.”

How much more time would Quinn need to saw through the bindings?
Had he even found the shard of glass tucked inside the shoe?

“And you don’t think we should evacuate? There might be a fire or
something.”

“Nah, I don’t reckon it’s real. Wouldn’t put it past you to have
triggered it yourself.” He waved the gun at me. “Get away from him, Blue. I
don’t like you so close to him — he might try something. Or you might.”

“Sure,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender and
brushing my front against him as I moved to his other side. I needed to keep
his attention on me. “You know, Bruce” — I moved in close, looked directly into
his eyes and smiled sweetly — “for someone who’s so
hot
on squad
loyalty, you have some major trust issues.” I tapped a finger against his chest
on the last three words.

Bruce grinned. “Oh Blue-baby,” he began, just as I heard a soft
pop from behind him. His mouth sagged open, he slumped heavily against me and
we both tumbled slowly to the carpet.

“Shit!” said Quinn, his horrified gaze moving from the dart
sticking out of Bruce’s back, to the gun in his own hands. He dropped the
weapon as if it had stung him.

“Don’t just stand there — help me!” I wheezed.