Tom Isbell - The Capture

Hope and Book immediately slip into hunter mode. They crouch low to the forest floor and bend their ears to the sound, determining direction, speed, object. Hope takes off first, Book right on her heels—two runners skirting the darkened landscape like ghosts.

Alder thickets slow them to a crawl, the thick brush tugging at their clothes. The sound grows louder, and suddenly it’s doubled. Not just one engine, but two.

They reach the edge of the thicket and stop. A pair of headlights carves tiny holes in the dark, snaking around a bend. And from the other direction: another set of headlights. The vehicles are headed right for each other on the same small road. Even in the black night, it’s possible to see the plumes of gravel that follow.

Hope realizes she hasn’t seen actual cars outside camp since the day she and Faith were captured.

Faith. Which makes her think of Dad. And Mom.

She shakes her head and grips the spear. Her fingers shine white.

The two vehicles slow, then come to a grinding stop. Book and Hope share a grim look.

The headlights of each illuminate the other vehicle, and Hope sees they’re both Humvees. Pure military. Car doors open and slam, the hollow sound echoing toward them.

Feet crunch on gravel, and for the first time Hope can make out two figures walking toward each other. When they step forward and headlights wreathe their silhouettes, Hope gives an audible gasp. She recognizes those silhouettes—she’d know them anywhere. The woman with the ankle-length coat draped around her shoulders; the obese man waddling forward.

Chancellor Maddox and Dr. Gallingham.

They meet between their vehicles, too far away for Hope and Book to hear the conversation. Dr. Gallingham deposits a gleaming steel box on the ground. It’s cubical in shape, and the metal glimmers in the light. He undoes a series of clasps, reaches into the bowels of the box, and removes … something. His body blocks Hope’s view and she can’t see. Whatever the object is, it makes an impression on Chancellor Maddox. Her beauty-queen smile flashes white, cutting through the dark like a sharp knife.

What could it possibly be? Hope wonders, darkness clouding her thoughts.

Whatever the answer, Gallingham returns it to the bottom of the box, fastens and reattaches all the clasps, and presents the steel box itself to the chancellor like a Wise Man presenting frankincense or myrrh.

Chancellor Maddox takes it, walks back to her vehicle, and climbs inside. Both Humvees return in the direction from which they came, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires growing more and more faint until, at last, the night returns to silence.

WE MADE OUR WAY back without speaking. Although a part of me wanted to know where we stood … another part absolutely didn’t. The woods slipped by without a word between us.

When we stepped into camp, we woke the others. Everyone moaned as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, but once we told them what we’d seen, they woke up in a hurry. The Less Thans had had little contact with Chancellor Maddox, but we’d heard about her—our friend Frank in the mountains had told us she was a beauty queen turned congresswoman turned leader of the Western Federation. According to him, it was her idea to scrap the Constitution. Her idea to label us Less Thans.

As for Dr. Gallingham, once Hope mentioned his name, I swear I could see the blood draining from the Sisters’ faces.

“What was it, Book?” Twitch asked. “What’d he give the chancellor?”

“We couldn’t see. But you could tell from the way they handled it that it was valuable.”

People threw out guesses, but Hope and I just shrugged. We could only speculate like the rest.

“What do we do now?” Flush asked.

I could feel the others’ stares directed toward me. After all, it had been my bright idea to cross back from the other side of the fence. If it hadn’t been for me, we’d all be safe and sound in the Heartland. It was my job to get this group to Camp Liberty and back.

“We need to leave. Tonight.” A few people grumbled, but I kept going. “It’s not safe being this close to a road. We’ve got enough food and weapons for a while, right?”

I gave a glance to those who’d been carving arrows and drying jerky, and they returned my look with unenthusiastic nods.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.”

People were just beginning to step away when four shadows drifted in my direction. Dozer, Red, and two of the Sisters: Angela and Lacey.

“What makes you think we can t-t-take on the Brown Shirts?” Red asked, with his tendency to stutter. “They’ve got g-g-guns.”

The question startled me in its bluntness. We’d been here a whole week and there’d been no discussion like this at all. I got the feeling these four had been talking.

“Red’s right,” Dozer said, and it was obvious he was the instigator. Dozer lived to stir up trouble. “And not just the Brown Shirts. How can we hope to fend off the Hunters with these?” He gestured to the primitive slingshots, the clumsy crossbows, the recently whittled arrows.

I understood his point. It took little effort to remember the armor plating on the Hunters’ souped-up ATVs, the Kevlar vests, the M4s.

We had long ago made the decision to stick with what we knew: crossbows, spears, slingshots, bows and arrows. Not only were we proficient with those weapons, but they were quiet and light and allowed us a stealth that heavier automatic rifles wouldn’t. Also, we could make our own ammunition for slingshots and bows and arrows. Not so with M4s.

“We don’t need their weapons,” I said. “We didn’t in the Brown Forest, and we don’t now.”

Dozer took a bullying step toward me.

“Okay, then what I want to know is how’re we gonna release those Less Thans. Even if we do make it to Liberty—which is doubtful—how’re we gonna spring ’em?”

Everyone was quiet now. Even the crickets and frogs. I longed for Cat to back me up, but his eyes were fixed on the ground. I had no idea what was running through his mind.

“I don’t have a strategy just yet,” I said.

Dozer’s eyes widened in surprise. “No strategy at all? Great plan, Book Worm ,” he scoffed. “That explains a lot.”

He looked around at the others. A couple of them obliged with laughter. I felt my face burning red.

“You agreed to go back to Liberty,” I said. “You didn’t have to.”

“That’s when I thought you had a plan. Now I know otherwise.”

“All I know is we have to do this.” Despite my efforts, I could feel my chest tightening.

“Oh we do, do we? And why is that?”

“Because it’s the right thing.”

Dozer laughed. A loud, mocking laugh. “And killing us in the process? Is that the ‘right thing’?”

My fists clenched, and Dozer leaned forward until our noses were actually touching.

“Well?” he asked. I nearly gagged from his sour breath.

I turned to move away, but his meaty hand grabbed my shoulder and whipped me back around. “Well?” he asked again.

Although I wanted nothing more than to take a swipe at him, I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance. Dozer was a big, barrel-chested guy with a thick neck, and even though one of his arms was slightly withered from radiation, he more than compensated with his other. If I attacked him, it’d only prove his point that I was reckless and not a real leader.

So I did nothing, said nothing, just turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard Dozer making clucking sounds.

There wasn’t anything I could do about Dozer. I’d just have to live with the situation—and him.

We marched through the night and into the morning, as the sun chased away the stars and made invisible the moon. There was little conversation, and Hope and I kept more distance between us than ever. She didn’t want to talk to me, and I had no desire to talk to her.