It’s a long walk to Zone 398. We gain momentum once lights illuminate our path after crossing Route 33. We move even faster when the sun erupts over the horizon. I try to absorb as much as I can of our surroundings, having seen very little outside my own zone before this journey. Funny how it took war and captivity to be freer than I’ve ever been, and I find each new sight fascinating.
“Vehicle!” Vi hisses. “Hide or be caught?”
My pulse pounds at our three seconds to decide. “Be caught. We’re looking for shelter, right?”
“Yep.”
We maintain our positions on the side of the road as the jeep slows to a stop. Two armed guards stare us down through the open window.
“You’re out past curfew,” one of them barks.
“We have nowhere to go,” Vi explains in a very convincing lost-girl voice.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Originally 63, but we’ve been wandering for a while now trying to get to safety.”
“You got all the way from 63 to 398? Through government checkpoints?”
“No, we left 63 as they were moving in and have been on the run ever since. We haven’t encountered any checkpoints.”
The loud hum of the engine overpowers their voices as they consult each other. Vi and I remain still, awaiting the verdict of our first test. I’m hoping the eerie twilight is masking the terror in my veins.
“Do you have identification?” the driver asks, returning to us.
We retrieve our IDs from our bags and hand them over. They focus on me.
“This says you’re from 489, not 63.”
“I was visiting Viktoria in 63 when we ran. We’d love to get back to 489 if we can. We heard it’s not controlled by government forces. I’m hoping my mom is still there.” There’s a slight tremble in my voice, and once again I get to play myself in this game.
The man considers my story and returns our IDs. “Yes, Free Forces control 489, but I doubt your mother is there. The GF got there first and took most of the civilians to their prisons.”
One side’s refugee haven is the other side’s prison. Words matter, Andie.
“Okay, let’s see your bags.”
After a thorough scan of our belongings, they wave us into the jeep. We settle into the seats, and the vehicle jerks into motion. Soon the rumble rocks my exhausted body onto the edge of sleep.
Ping. Another paperclip bounces off my pile, this one just missing my lap. My gaze shoots toward Kaleb’s desk, but his eyes are fixed on the screen. I almost believe that the darn thing fell from the ceiling—until his lips twist into a slight smile.
I toss it back at him, and he grins as he deflects it into the corner.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to work.” I force away the warmth in my chest so I can hold a stern expression. His humor spreads to his eyes, eliminating any hope of that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he returns.
“Oh really? You have no idea why paperclips keep moving through the air from your desk to my piles?”
“Are you accusing me of something, Sorenson?”
“Are you denying something, Novelli?”
He snickers before waving me over. “Hey, I want to show you something.”
I push up from the floor and approach his desk, nervous like I am every time we’re close lately. Ever since the kiss, he’s consumed my thoughts with fantasies of his essence being mine.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asks.
“Fine, why?”
“I don’t know, you look uncomfortable.”
“Well, I’m not.”
He continues to study me. I wonder if I torture him the same way he devours me when we’re apart.
“Kaleb…”
He waits. Probably thinks I have a question about his screen, filing, or lunch menus. He certainly doesn’t suspect I’m about to blurt why it’s becoming harder and harder to be within five feet of him.
He gives up on my awkward silence and slides a small photograph toward me.
“That’s you,” I say.
“From a year ago. Before my abduction.”
I glance up from the vibrant paper smile to meet the rich depth of pain inches away.
“You look perfect,” I say softly.
“Nice of you to say.”
I take his face in my hands. “No. You look...”
My voice stops, and I don’t have a choice anymore. He needs our connection as much as I do. And I need him to understand who he is.
It’s a sweet kiss, short and to the point. Lingering afterwards with a slight space to allow us to consider the consequences. He shuts his eyes, so close, and yet nowhere near where I want him.
“We’re making a mistake, Andie. Getting this attached. There’s no future here.”
“No, the mistake is letting fear steal our present. How can it be a mistake to exhaust the seconds we have?”
That smile. My heart.
“You’re quite the philosopher.”
“Ha. I get it from you. Besides, I’ll be whatever you want if it means you’ll kiss me every second you can.”
“I don’t know. Pretty sure you have plenty of seconds-worth of filing over there.”
“Shut up,” I laugh as he pulls me in this time.
“Andie! Andie, hey.”
Someone is shaking my arm, and I force my eyes open. My body grows cold when the present washes the silky memory from my mind, branding me with the realization that I may never see that smile or feel those lips again. Monsters are snuffing out the kindness in his eyes at this very moment.
“We’re here.” Vi nudges me to look out the window, and I catch my breath at the concrete fortress. “Looks even worse than 9B, huh?” she mutters. I nod as the soldiers bark at us to get out.
“This way,” they say, leading us through a steel door. I scan the fortified walls and occasional armed guard standing at attention as we pass.
Vi’s features are locked, determined at whatever runs through her head. I’m sure I look less confident, but my intimidated awe is a healthy cover.
“Andie Sorenson and Viktoria Callahan,” one of our escorts announces to someone seated at a desk.
The other man raises his eyebrows before focusing back on our guide for more information.
“They claim to be from 63. We found them on Route 33, six hundred yards beyond the checkpoint.”
“63?”
“Supposedly, they left before the government forces moved in.”
Supposedly. Claim. Words matter.
“Hmm. All right, take them to 4. I’ll send Clarke in.”
Our soldier waves us along.
We continue down the hallway, hurrying to keep up with his pace. Vi doesn’t seem impressed by our welcome either, but I try to be sympathetic to their skepticism. After all, technically we are the spies they’re wary of.
Kaleb, remember your greeting when we met? I’ll never forget what your smile did for me. You made me believe I might be okay, that maybe I wasn’t just a prisoner after all.
My heart starts pounding again as I gaze down the long corridor of identical rooms. Maybe Kaleb is in this building. Maybe he’s screaming or being nursed back to health somewhere beneath my feet. I shake off the thought, recalling the lack of water towers upon our approach.
“In here. Sit,” the guard says before closing the heavy door behind us.
Vi and I exchange a look as we slide into the two folding chairs at the small table. Another chair faces us. We know better than to speak and offer clues that might feed their suspicions in case they’re monitoring us.
Clarke enters after a lengthy wait, older than the soldiers we’ve encountered so far. Worn, he’s clearly seen his share of conflict and doesn’t seem pleased about his involvement in the plight of two strays.
“You’re from 63?” he begins, dropping into the empty chair with a tap on his tablet screen.
“I am. She’s from 489,” Vi says.
He evaluates me before slamming out more keystrokes.
“What brings you to 398?”
“We’re looking for my cousin,” I blurt. I don’t risk a glance at Vi.
“Your cousin?”
“My mom said if anything ever happened to her I should find my cousin Max.”
“Max?”
“Dennel.”
Clarke’s expression betrays him, and I know I’ve made an impact with my spontaneous gamble. Whether we get a hero’s welcome or a prison cell remains to be seen.
“Your cousin is Max Dennel?”
“Do you know him?”
“Never met him but I know of him.”
“Where can we find him?”
He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. We’re not in the business of handing out our operatives’ locations.”
Operative.
I force a disappointed sigh. “Oh, okay. Well, thank you anyway. We will keep looking then.”
“No, you won’t. We’re not finished here.”
I swallow.
“Explain to me, in detail, your journey from 63 to 398,” he continues, and I’m disappointed that even Dennel’s cousin can’t avoid an interrogation. Thankfully, this puts us in Vi’s wheelhouse and she launches into a matter-of-fact depiction of our route from Zone 63 to the soldiers’ jeep. Even I start to believe her as she talks. I study Clarke while he concentrates on Vi. He listens and punches his fingertips on the screen with a periodic highlight but really just looks like he’d rather be killing someone and blowing shit up.
“So why 398? Why not 489, your home? Free forces control that zone now,” he directs to me.
“Like I said, we’re looking for my cousin. I learned that my mother was taken by the GF when they went through. There’s nothing there for me anymore. I’m trying to find Max.”
If he’s satisfied with my response, he doesn’t show it.
“Wait here.”
We’re alone again, and I can feel Vi’s burning gaze. “And what makes you think your cousin is in 398?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe he’s here.”
“Well, hopefully we find him,” she mumbles, and I know it’s killing her that she can’t explode on me for tossing my cards all over the table.
After several minutes of saturated silence, Clarke interrupts with yet another menacing man in tow.
“This is Rico. He’d like to talk to you.”
Rico lowers to the vacant chair and studies us.
“A cousin of Max Dennel?”
“On my father’s side.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Not since I was a girl.”
“If I contact him and ask about you, what will he say?”
“I’m not sure, but I remember him having a dirty mouth.”
Rico cracks a smile. “Most of us do.”
“I’m not expecting you to tell me where he is, but if you could just let him know I’m looking for him…”
“I doubt he’ll want to see you. I know he sure as hell can’t help you right now.”
“But if—”
“We’ll set both of you up with a room and provisions while we verify your story.”
My brain spins into a panic. “That’s kind of you, but—”
“I’m not being generous, Ms. Sorenson. Clarke will take you to your room.” He ends the debate with the scrape of his chair. “Welcome to Zone 398.”
And with that, we’re officially prisoners again.
“Well, shit,” Vi mumbles.