Kristen Simmons - Breaking Point

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know,” I whipped back, too quietly for anyone to hear above the chaos. His eyes changed then. From that haughty, hateful edge to something different. Something I’d never seen before.

“Would it have mattered if I did?”

It was honest, maybe the first honest thing he’d said to me. And if I were being honest with myself, too, I would have said no . It wouldn’t have mattered. I would still have come here.

Each shuffling step filled my head with more crazy thoughts: Harper wasn’t dead; he was chasing us, blood oozing from that anemone-shaped hole in his chest. Others were coming, too. Maybe the siren had created too much interference for the radio, but he could have called us in before that.

We had to get out of here. I wanted to push them all out of my way and run, but I couldn’t. We were packed like sardines; I couldn’t lift my arms, much less shove someone.

Finally we toppled out the exit and onto the sidewalk. The van was still there, ready to go. My chest tightened when I saw how Sean struggled to load Rebecca in the backseat.

Chase and I walked as calmly as we could around the hood, but once I was seated in the middle row he slammed the door behind me. Tucker was already in the passenger seat. Sisters and patients filtered onto Reformation Parkway, blocking our path.

My fingers tapped on my thighs as Chase eased onto the main drag.

“Get out of the way,” Tucker told the crowd. His voice angered me. Why had he helped us? Good deeds didn’t erase evil, even if they did even things out a little. Did he think he could make up for what he’d done?

Did I think I could make up for what I’d done? My friend might never walk again. Harper certainly wouldn’t.

I glanced to the backseat. Rebecca was sitting on one side, hunched over her knees. Sean was on the other, his face pale. They were not touching.

“Sean,” I said between chattering teeth. He looked over slowly, as though there was a delay in his hearing. What was he doing? She was broken and frightened, and his distance only reinforced that she was damaged.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t walk,” he said. His stare returned out the window.

“Sean!” I snapped. Rebecca sobbed loudly.

Tucker fell back in the seat, hollering excitedly. The path had cleared, and soon Chase was speeding down Reformation Parkway away from the hospital.

“What happened to Sprewell?” I demanded.

“We had a disagreement about my discharge status,” Tucker answered, high on adrenaline. “He’ll be sleeping it off in the elevator while they clear the building. Good thing the place isn’t really burning, huh?”

“ You pulled the fire alarm?” I asked incredulously. I thought it had been Chase, but it made sense. Chase wouldn’t have been able to get past the front desk if not for the commotion.

“Go ahead and thank me,” he answered.

I didn’t. But for the first time, I felt a glimmer of respect for him. For the person who’d let us believe Rebecca was healthy and the last person to see Cara alive. For my mother’s killer.

Like a blow it hit me. We’d killed someone, too. We’d crossed a line today—one we could never take back.

Tucker kicked back in his seat. “What a rush. I get why you like it.”

“Shut up,” said Chase coldly.

“Come on, Jennings,” he said, obviously unfazed by the impenetrable tension in the car. “I thought we were pals again.”

“Shut up!” Chase roared. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

I felt a sob bubble up in my throat.

No. Not yet.

We passed a line of supply trucks, all blue with the FBR logo and motto on the side. So much blue. Blue everywhere. Watching.

“Where are we going?” My voice trembled.

“To the waterfront.” Chase tapped the radio on his belt. “Truck is waiting.”

My heart took a momentary leap from its fear. If ever we needed a safe house, it was now.

THEbruised sky was high, leaving the air beneath chilly. In the morning light it was easier to see the devastation from the War. Most of the area looked like the airfield. Piles of debris and obtuse rebar, mountains of cinder blocks, and everywhere, the fuzzy peach-skin dust. My eyes drew to a thirty-story building behind the tunnel exit that was somehow still standing, even though it looked like a giant monster had taken a bite out of its waist. It went on like this for miles, until the lake consumed the horizon.

I had the sudden recollection of talking with Chase so long ago, listening to his story about when the bombs had hit Chicago. He’d been evacuated with the other students, and then hitchhiked to a town outside the city limits to meet his uncle.

The uncle who’d later abandoned him.

The uncle we would soon see if we made it to the safe house alive.

We all watched vigilantly for shadows, but no one had tracked us from the base. It seemed insane to me that we’d made it this far without being followed, but with so many uniforms around it was easier to melt into the crowds.

Chase took a hard left and the van descended into a dark abandoned parking garage. The tires sloshed through the water coating the floor. In the headlights I saw the FBR two-ton truck that had made its return from the Indiana checkpoint last night.

There were only eleven people left. Truck was outside, waving giddily. Jack and the supply boy with the almond eyes were among the others. I was glad not to see anyone who had been suspicious of us earlier.

Chase parked, and I stepped out into ankle-deep, freezing flood water.

“Change of heart, Sniper?” Truck asked me. The others were staring at us with a mixture of awe and concern. The medic had told us the rehab facility was bad luck, and as I touched the pendant around my neck, I couldn’t balk. Superstition was an acquired skill in the resistance.

“We’ve got to get out of town,” Chase said before I could answer.

They didn’t ask if we’d been followed, or why we had to move. They knew what it was like to be hunted. With businesslike intensity, they began loading into the back of the truck. It was then that I noticed that Sean and Rebecca were still in the car.

I splashed back toward the van, Chase just behind me. They were just as we left them: staring blankly, straight ahead.

“We’ve got to get in the truck, Rebecca,” I said. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe. You won’t have to worry about the MM anymore.”

I hoped she couldn’t hear my doubt. I hadn’t been to the safe house. I didn’t know what it was like, or if we’d truly be protected. It was a place of hopes and dreams, and for all I knew, nothing but a fairy tale.

Neither of them moved.

“We have to go,” pressed Chase. “Sean.”

Sean’s hands gripped the seat in front of them. He looked at Chase for a long moment and nodded.

“Becca,” he said, without turning her direction. “Do you want me to take you back?”

What was he doing? We couldn’t go back now. We couldn’t stay in this town another second.

Rebecca didn’t answer.

“We’re not far,” he said. “If you want me to, I’ll take you back. But you need to know that I’m not going to leave you there alone. I’m not leaving you again.”

A soft whimpering came from Rebecca’s side of the car.

“I’ve got a brother, Becca. Matt. He was nine when I joined up. I never told you about him because I left him there, in St. Louis, in this two-man tent my dad got for us when we were kids.” Sean’s voice broke. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “He was sleeping when I left. My dad had been gone over a week, and I knew he wasn’t coming back this time, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take care of him. So I enlisted. I went back once, but he was gone. A caseworker got him, is what the neighbors said. Put him in foster care. I told myself it was better than him dying with me, but that was a lie. He was my brother, and I left him, and I’m not going to make that mistake again.”