I tell Bree to drive into the Outer Ring. A shadow passes over the car, and we are inside.
It brings back a lot of memories. Running with Emma. The feeling of confusion and bewilderment at finding not only more land beyond Claysoot, but another wall still trapping us in place, not to mention the sprawling, unimaginable world outside it. I crack my window open, and the bite of cold air is a comfort.
We cut through the dead, snow-covered earth until Group A’s Wall suddenly looms before us. I scramble from the car, walk up to the structure, and lay a palm against it. It is smooth and sleek, the facade like ice to the touch. It looks just like our Claysoot Wall.
“Now what?” Xavier asks.
The entire team is watching me, even Bo. I hate that I’ve somehow become the person in charge. I have no clue what I’m doing.
Bo seems frigid and miserable; Emma, anxious. Clipper looks . . . young. I don’t know how my father handled having so many people under his command. I don’t know how to lead them. I only know what I would do alone, so that’s where I start.
“These people are cautious. When we saw them in the control room, they were barely visible—just a quick glimpse of a hand or leg. If we saunter in now, while there’s still a bit of light, there’s no way they’ll show themselves. But at night, if we are quiet about our approach, we may be able to find them before they have the chance to hide. And we could use the cover of dark either way; I don’t want to be spotted by the cameras.”
Now that I’ve started talking, the plan is forming effortlessly. “We’ll split up. Bo will man the camp here—with Xavier and Emma—so that we have ears on the outside. The rest of us are going in.”
While Sammy warms canned beans over a fire for dinner, Xavier and I take an inventory of our weapons. What made it off the ship on the lifeboat is all we have left: Xavier’s bow and arrows; two knives, carried by Bo and Clipper; two extra handguns stowed away in my father’s pack. There’s also the gun I found in the Order car that Bree’s currently carrying.
When Sammy says dinner is ready, I bring a cup of beans to Jackson. He’s locked in the car, staring at the towering Wall through his window. Something in his eyes looks a bit too hopeful.
It should have been him, I decide—not Owen—that went down with the Catherine.
It is dark and once again snowing when we move the car alongside the Wall to make our crossing. Xavier lends me his bow—I’ve never favored firearms, especially if they don’t have a lengthy barrel—and he takes one of my father’s handguns so that the team staying behind isn’t left unarmed. Sammy has the second of my father’s guns, and Bree, the weapon that’s been tucked in her waistband since I threatened Jackson with it.
There were only two pairs of night-vision goggles in the Order’s car and I’m wearing one of them. Bree has the other. The rest of the team coming with us has flashlights stowed away, though the goal is to avoid using them unless absolutely necessary. We’ve also got a handheld radio so that we can communicate with the crew staying behind. Clipper double- and triple-checks the channels and reception before telling me we’re ready.
As the team scrambles onto the car to make the climb, a hand grabs my elbow. Emma.
“I want to go with you,” she says. “I could help if someone gets hurt.” She puts her palms on the front of my jacket and I feel a familiar ache in my chest.
“No one’s getting hurt.”
“But if they do, I should be there.”
“Clipper knows enough first aid to handle anything minor.”
She frowns. “If the worst injuries will be minor, I don’t see why I can’t come.”
This debate could go in circles all night. I put my hands on her shoulders. “Emma.” She looks up at me. “Please stay here, with Bo and Xavier. With people we trust. Where it’s safe. I’ll be back soon.”
She glances at the Wall. “Just be careful?”
“I’ll try my hardest not to do anything stupid.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better. I know how you are.”
I laugh, then freeze as she hooks her hands behind my neck. She raises herself up onto her toes and plants a kiss on my lips. Quick and friendly, but there are a million memories attached to it.
“I have a good feeling about this,” she says, stepping back. “Group A. The mission. A real good feeling.”
“Me, too,” I say, overwhelmed with newfound confidence. “I’ll see you soon. Promise.”
She gives me her typical half smile. “I’ll be waiting.”
I head for the car, climb onto the roof where the team waits impatiently. Especially Bree. She’s scowling at me, arms folded against her chest, pointer fingers tapping her biceps. There’s something else to the expression, an emotion I can’t place. Fear, maybe? Anxiety?
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m a big girl, Gray. I don’t care who you kiss.”
“I meant about the Wall,” I say, taken aback. “Are you ready?”
“Oh.” Now she looks insulted, almost as if she wanted me to ask about a kiss I didn’t initiate or plan for. “Of course.” She pauses and frowns. “Unless they’re crazy like Fallyn predicted—a bunch of savages. That would complicate things.”
Fallyn, a Rebel captain and the main representative of Bree’s people from Saltwater, never supported our mission. She swore we’d trek halfway across the country and find nothing but wild animals living behind the Wall, but I always thought the clips we saw in the control room suggested otherwise.
“We’ll be fine,” I say. “Especially together. I’m never more confident than when you have my back.”
“Stop it,” she snaps. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Like what?”
“Stuff about me and you and us. It only makes it harder.”
“So I can’t speak my mind? Even if it’s true?”
She scowls so intently the look turns into something more sad than fierce. “Especially if it’s true.”
“You want me to lie to you?”
“I don’t care what you do so long as it doesn’t feel like you’re standing on my chest and breaking my rib cage.”
And so we are back to this—comfortable one moment, at arms with each other the next—and that’s just fine. I can play this game with her. Push her, taunt her, egg her on, be consistently sarcastic. I can be all the reasons I told her we’d never work to begin with. It’s not even a struggle; it’s second nature, us at each other’s throats. As easy as breathing.
“If you get spotted by a camera on the other side, don’t expect me to save your ass when the Order swoops in to investigate.”
She smirks, and it makes her look a bit more like herself. “Likewise.”
“Also, your boots are untied.”
Bree looks down and finds her laces tightly bound. She shoves me, her lips pinched together like she’s holding in a combination of laughter and fury.
Sammy clears his throat. “Are we doing this or are we going to stand around all night?”
“No, we’re going,” I say, and at my words, Xavier is beside me, offering interwoven fingers to use as a stepping stool.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” I say to Bree. Her face hardens and she nods: one small, curt movement of her chin.
I put my boot into Xavier’s palms and he heaves me upward.
My hands find the top of the Wall and I pull.
Part Three: Of Survivors
TWENTY