Kristi Helvig - Burn Out

The group jostled cautiously around me, joining Markus. Kale nodded at me as he moved past while scruffy boy averted his eyes, looking at some invisible spot on the floor. But not bird girl. No, Britta gave me a silent bitch slap with her eyes as she sat.

Tomblike silence filled the room, but the quiet from above was more disconcerting.

“Maybe they gave up?” Britta asked Kale.

“Not a chance. I think they’re rethinking their strategy.”

Markus frowned. “Or maybe they’ll cut the air line—not that it worked last time.”

I froze. I thought back to Markus’ first visit but was positive I hadn’t mentioned it. “How did you know the line was cut before?”

Markus looked sheepish, and seemed to weigh his options before giving his traditional shrug. “Look, I thought it would hurry your decision a bit if I made a tiny dent in the line. If you couldn’t fix it, you’d have to come with me.”

I slammed my hand against the wall. “And I’d have to give you my guns. You are such an asshole.”

Britta stared at the door above, ignoring my outburst. “Do you think they have other weapons? Something that could blast this place open?” She looked terrified and almost childlike. I would have felt sorry for her if she were someone else.

Kale glanced at me before answering. “No, they don’t have a weapon that powerful.”

“But she does,” Markus said, jerking his thumb at me. Could he be any more of a burner? “Which is why they want them so badly.”

“They?” I couldn’t help myself. “It’s why you want them so badly too—so you can make a buck.”

“I’m a simple businessman,” said Markus. “A guy’s gotta eat.”

“And drink,” added Britta. “Speaking of which, I’m dying of thirst. All our water’s on the ship.”

I checked the level on the W.A.R. and my stomach dropped. Even if we divided it five ways we’d have less than a quarter cup each. For the entire day. After being outside for several hours, I could chug two gallons in minutes, and the others had been out there longer than me. Not that I planned to share. Even if everyone used the special piss machine, it wouldn’t make much difference. Sure, I could try to kill them all and keep the water for myself, but that wouldn’t make me any better than them. As it stood, we didn’t need to worry about shooting each other because we’d die of dehydration first.

Water, the great equalizer.

Maybe the government figured this out. Maybe that’s why they halted the air strike. They realized we’d eventually come out begging for mercy—and water. They didn’t need to attack. They could just wait.

THE CONTINUED QUIET ABOVE SEEMED MORE MENACING THAN the assault had been. Everyone lapped up their measly water rations in seconds. I didn’t know it was possible to be so thirsty. My mouth still tasted like ash, my tongue thick and heavy. I had my reasons for sharing, mainly to gain their trust and make it look like I was a team player. In reality, I wanted to punch every one of them, but that would only make me thirstier.

We sat and eyed each other warily. The way Britta kept looking at me, I knew she saw an extra inch of water where my head should be. I wondered how long it would be before she’d try to take me out again.

“Any ideas on the H 2O situation?” Markus asked, tapping the butt of his gun on the table.

“We’ve got plenty of water on the ship. Or had anyway,” said Kale. “They might have gone aboard her by now, although I don’t know if they’d have thought to take the water. There’s so much water on Caelia, people are already forgetting how scarce it was here.”

Britta scoffed. “Like we could make it to the ship anyway. They’d torch us as soon as we got outside this door.”

Scruffy boy remained silent as usual, not looking at anyone in particular. For some reason, this was getting under my skin. “Are you always this mute?”

He gazed right at me, responding calmly. “Unless I have something to say.”

I glared back at him. “We could die here and you’ve got nothing to contribute?”

He looked away, which only infuriated me more. After a minute of silence, he cleared his throat and looked to Kale. “What about at night? We might have a shot of making it then if we can stay out of sight … and survive the night storms.”

I jumped in before Kale could respond. “Wow … two whole sentences. You’re making progress.” I knew I was being a bitch—guess living in an isolated environment for most of my life hadn’t done wonders for my social skills. “Also, I hate to be a negative Nellie, but going out at night is suicide. There is no surviving the night storms … the winds would shred us alive.”

His hazel eyes glared into mine before he looked away again.

“You’re as sweet as ever, Tora. And you wonder why I left you here.” Markus wore a smug expression. I really wanted to knock it off him. “Besides, we might be able to make it at night … if we go really, really fast.”

Kale drummed his fingers on the table. “Good idea, James. That might be our best shot.”

James. Scruffy sort-of-cute boy was James. It was a total downer that the cutest boy I’d seen in my short life had tried to kill me. I stared at him, then tightened my grip on the gun.

Kale did most of the talking; Britta did most of the whining. Markus tried to catch my eye a few times, but I refused to look at him. I was too mad about the air line to want him on my side at the moment. James threw in an occasional comment or question but otherwise kept silent, watching everyone. Including me. I stayed ten feet back from the table, waiting to see how their plans included me so I could then tell them to go to hell. It was their ship over the horizon, not mine. Let them go out and get killed by the Consulate. What did I care?

James looked up and our eyes met. My stomach fluttered in a way it hadn’t before. Apparently I did care. I made a mental note to ignore my stomach.

“If they kill us out there, they’ll come for you next. They won’t kill you, but they won’t stop until they have the guns.” James continued to stare at me, which caused my stomach to go all weird again. “Your weapons are powerful, but it’s not like one person can use them all at once.”

I’d only need one weapon if I used my very special one, not that I’d tell him that.

I thought about all the time my father had invested in my weapons training—though I’d never even used the deadliest one of all. Getting the guns here in the first place had taken some doing. He’d had a crew of similar-minded antigovernment folks bring in the materials and help him construct the bunker, far from the prying eyes of the Consulate. Due to the amount of help he had, it took just a few months. We continued living at our house in the pod city, so the Consulate never knew what my dad was up to. He showed up at work every day, perfecting the guns, only traveling to our shelter-in-progress on the weekends. He had to get the guns to a secret location before the specified delivery date.

Luckily for us, people were dropping like flies at that point. The state of the global emergency, which grew exponentially worse with each passing month, had distracted the leaders from the fact that my father’s promised weapons had vanished from under their noses. Yet now, they knew exactly where they were. They’d never stop. James was right that I couldn’t take them all out with one regular gun, but T.O. would do the trick. I shook the thought away. T.O. would take everyone out—except me.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just gave Tora over to them? Maybe they’d let us go,” Britta asked, disappointment in her voice. Britta the bitch. So many possible nicknames to choose from.