Tracey Ward - Backs Against the Wall

My blood runs cold. “Who said anything about The Hive?”

She looks at me hard. “They sent you here, didn’t they?”

“How do you know that?” I whisper.

“Your boat has the name U.S.S. Sweet Honey written on the side of it with a small hornet painted on the rudder.”

I close my eyes against what idiots we’ve been. How ill thought out and impulsive this entire thing has turned out to be. “I hate Marlow so much.”

“Most people do,” she agrees. “He’s an idiot, though. Hornets don’t even make honey. They eat insects, including each other.”

“Like the cannibals.”

“And the zombies, yeah. So you’re part of The Hive?”

“No,” I say firmly. “Absolutely not. We just went to them for help and they sent us here. They told us if we could get your people to join up, then they’d join us too. I know it’s a lie, but we don’t have a lot of options. We had to try.”

“What’s your plan?” the nurse asks, sitting down and leaning back, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches me.

I blink, surprised. “What?”

“Your plan. What was the pitch you gave to The Hive? Give it to me now. Sell it to me.”

I glance at Trent who simply watches me as well, no indication of what he thinks I should say or do. So I figure what can it hurt?

I tell her everything. I start at the beginning with the day I was taken by the Colonists. I tell her about Vin, Nats and Breanne. About the Colony in the north in the MOHAI. About the crazy happy people running the show and the guard duty walking the wall, watching the interior to keep people in instead of keeping zombies out. I tell her about the kitchen crew, about the sewing room, about the maintenance room where Nats works. I tell her about the night I got jumped and she smiles when I tell her about the child’s t-shirt and my failures as a seamstress. I tell her about the rebellion, the people desperately wanting out. Then I tell her about Caroline and her face changes. She’s sad but she also looks understanding, the way Ryan looked at me when I told him. Like someone who knows. When I tell her about my jump and my fall, she nods in understanding as my broken bone suddenly makes sense. Then, when I’m done talking and Ryan is in the room with us again and no one is making a sound, she simply stares at me. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I definitely don’t know if she believes me but as I look back at her, I really want her to.

“That’s quite a story,” she tells me.

But she doesn’t.

She stands slowly, gathers her things and leaves the room without another word. I shake my head as I run my hands over my hair, pulling at it in frustration.

“No one is ever going to help us, are they? The Colonies will never stop. The roundups won’t stop. The fear— dammit!”

“We could leave,” Trent suggests. “Leave Seattle entirely. Live somewhere else where there are no Colonies.”

“How do we know they aren’t everywhere?” I ask him harshly.

“We don’t know. Not until we look.”

“No,” I tell him, shaking my head again. “I can’t just walk away. I can’t leave them in there.”

“We’ll keep trying, Joss,” Ryan tells me, but he sounds tired. Beat down like I feel. “We’ll find a way to go back for them. I promise.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, but I don’t believe him.

I don’t think he does either.

“Still here, huh?” Taylor asks, flipping on the light.

I open my eyes slowly, making sure to take my time waking up. I’ve been working on that. On not freaking out and bashing Ryan in the face if I’m startled awake, something that happens more often than I’d like to admit. I’m like a skittish little deer and it sounds sweet, but not when you’re the deer. Then it’s just scary, humiliating and annoying. Ryan doesn’t say anything about my new restrained demeanor, but I think every morning he wakes up without a fat lip or bloodied nose he counts it as a win. He could sleep somewhere else, somewhere away from me and my violent tendencies, but he never does. Some things, I think, are worth a little pain. I guess for him, sleeping beside me is one of them.

“Have we spoken to your council yet?” I mumble.

I open one eye to glare at him, not bothering to get up. It annoys Taylor when we sleep in so I do it as often as I can.

“Not yet, Princess.”

“Then yep, still here. I’d be happy to go away if you’d let us talk to them.”

“Not enjoying the accommodations?”

I sit up to stare at him, my face carefully blank. “It’s a little Colonial for my taste.”

Taylor shakes his head, a crooked grin forming on his face. “Watch what you say. I’ll start to think you’re one of them again.”

I frown, surprised. “Meaning you don’t think that now?”

“Meaning I have my doubts.”

“Why is that?” Ryan asks.

Taylor folds his arms across his barrel chest, looking down at Ryan where he sits beside me. He glances over at Trent who stares back vacantly, his butt already perched in his favorite chair. When Taylor meets Ryan’s eyes again, he looks far less annoyed than usual. Almost casual.

“You don’t say grace.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot. The Colonists, the true to the bone followers, they’re very religious. Devout.”

“Overzealous,” I mutter, thinking of Crenshaw.

Taylor nods. “Exactly that. They don’t take a meal without saying grace or hit the sack without evening prayers. I’m not saying all religious people are Colonists just like I’m not saying all Colonists are religious. But I’ve seen you three dig into your food without washing your hands or thanking Jesus and to a genuine Colony follower, that wouldn’t fly. So either you’re just not one of the true followers, which makes it unlikely you’d be trusted to come in here to gather intel, or you’re not with them at all.”

“We’re not with them at all,” I insist.

Taylor shrugs. “Maybe you are or maybe you aren’t, but Sam seems to think you’re on the level so I’m inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“You trust Sam’s judgment that much?” Ryan asks dubiously.

“That kid is an excellent judge of character. Why do you think I have him in training with the guard? He’ll have my job one day.”

“Probably tomorrow,” Sam mumbles from his cot, his face turned toward the wall.

“Chow is out,” Taylor tells him.

Sam is up and out the door before any of us can say goodbye.

“If you don’t believe we’re spies,” I say to Taylor, “then why won’t you let us see your council yet?”

“Because that’s not how it’s done,” he says simply. “Never has been, never will be.”

“We only want to talk to them. They could come here and—“

“It’s not how it’s done,” Taylor repeats, this time more forcefully. “Look, here’s the deal. The people on the council are important. President of the World important only with fewer sex scandals and racial discrimination. They absolutely will not be brought anywhere near you, any of you, until you’ve passed quarantine. Because I’m guarding you, I’m not allowed near any of them until the quarantine is over just as a precaution and that is messing up my game something awful.”

“Your game?”

“He’s boning one of the people on the council,” Trent tells me.

I scrunch up my nose, grossed out by his phrasing. “I doubt he’s ‘boning’ one of them.”

“Trying to!” Taylor objects.

“Ugh,” I groan.

“Get over it,” he tells me, sitting down hard in a chair just outside our cage. It’s the closest he’s gotten to us without a tray of food since we got here. “The world has ended but life goes on and a big part of that for a man is a beautiful woman. Don’t think for a second that your boy here likes sleeping curled up next to you because he’s attracted to your soul and a morning punch in the mouth. He does it because you’re soft and no matter how dirty you get, your hair smells like strawberries. It’s a mystery of nature, but a fact nevertheless, one he’d like to get up close to and research further. More in depth, if you know what I mean.”