“Such as?” she asked.
I met her eyes bravely. “‘Shit happens.’”
37
BECCA
AFTER FOOD, SLEEP, AND RELATIVE safety for twenty-four hours, I was much closer to being human. My squad and I set out when it turned dusk, and I was relieved when we were out in the wild. Maybe I couldn’t live in a cell again. Maybe the only people who can stand it are people who don’t know there’s a choice.
Again we stuck to the edge of the abandoned road. I was more patient, able to explain to Levi that we were going single file because it would hide our numbers, and so on, and other leadery teachable moments.
Still, this night-silent road was creepy, keeping all of us alert and on guard, scanning the woods and the tall grass for anything that might burst out at us. United soldiers? Crazy locals? Killer robots? Anything felt possible. We hadn’t heard wolves lately, but that didn’t mean that they—or something worse—weren’t there.
A chilly wind picked up, making wisps of hair fly around my face. Then I held up my hand—Stop. My squad froze and I squinted at the trees, listening.
“Are those bugs?” I breathed quietly to Nate. “Cicadas or something?”
Nate shook his head slowly. “At this time of year?”
I opened my mouth to tell the squad to scatter but a blinding light flooded the area, so bright we winced and shielded our eyes.
“Run!” I yelled, just as a spray of bullets strafed the leaves around us, shredding them and splintering bark. I dove into the tall grass and lay still, looking upward. I shaded my eyes and saw that it was a United military drone, about eight feet across, loaded with cameras, lights, and weapons. It continued to lay down round after round of gunfire, slicing grass in half, leaving pockmarks in the old road surface. Was there only one of them?
Slowly I raised to one knee and put my rifle to my shoulder. I adjusted the gunsight, looking through one eye. I didn’t know how well protected the drone was, but I had to stop it, and damn fast.
Blood pounding in my ears, I aimed. The drone flitted around like a big, ungainly dragonfly, darting high and low, left and right, tilting. I followed it for a minute, adjusting for its movements, and when it skimmed through my crosshairs, I fired. Once, twice, three times, pop pop pop.
It exploded, raining shards of hot metal and tough plastic down on us. Someone drew in breath with a hiss as if they’d been hurt, and I leaped to my feet. Overhead, the fractured drone whirled crazily like an injured animal, its smooth artificial sound now hiccupping and raspy. It crashed into some low trees across the road, and almost immediately small tongues of flame started curling through the leaves.
“Freeze!” The voice was loud and mean, shouted through a bullhorn. Suddenly, dark-uniformed soldiers pounded down the road.
“Sic ’em!” I bellowed, springing out of my hiding place. The rest of the team materialized, weapons raised, assessing the threat like professionals.
“You’re illegals!” a soldier shouted at me, billy club raised.
“I don’t recognize your law!” I yelled back, and launched myself at him.
38
I ALMOST SMILED WHEN I saw the United soldiers wearing tactical gear—all foolishly brave and overconfident like it was a magical shield. Ooh, body armor! Guess we’ll give up!
Guess again! I took Billy Club Guy out with a flying tackle and choke hold. Of course Strepp had trained us on tactical gear. She’d trained us on every single thing she could possibly think of. If an irate farmer came at me waving barbecue tongs wrapped with a spitting cobra, I had a plan in place.
Running up behind one guy, I smashed his knee from the side, and he buckled. One hard blow from the butt of my rifle and he was out. Nate used his knife to slice through the straps of the soldier’s holster, then yanked it free, seizing the pistol. He pistol-whipped the soldier in the temple. Three down, a dozen more to go.
The smell of fire was strong and thick; coiling smoke had started to weave among the frenzied action. I caught a glimpse of Jolie, her eyes wide and determined, as she shoved her rifle under a helmet, popping its straps. Then it was easy to deliver a knockout kick to the head.
Mills leaned over a prone body, his fist raised. Bunny was everywhere at once, showing herself a graduate of the Crazy House by her combination of mixed martial arts, street-fighting tricks, and random violence.
Still the soldiers kept coming. Between the dark of night and the smoke, it was impossible to sweep the area with cover fire from my rifle. I couldn’t avoid hitting my team if I spewed bullets everywhere.
Someone grabbed my arm and without hesitation I swept my other arm over and brought it down on his wrist, breaking his grip. I had a second’s view of his surprised eyes and then my balled fist hit his throat and my hard, flat palm shot up into his nose, easily breaking it. He went down without a sound.
I took down two others, wrenching their weapons out of their hands, stomping on their radios, knocking down the ones starting to come around. As I was punching one of the barely conscious soldiers, another got the drop on me, tackling me to the dirt. I heard a crunch and a sharp pain flared in my hip. I flipped to my back and locked my legs around his neck, squeezing until he passed out.
The fire had spread and was now huge, flames slicing twenty, thirty feet into the air. It had jumped across the road and I realized with a pang of fear that we were surrounded.
Finally, all I saw was my squad standing among bodies as the heat got closer and the smoke got thicker. It felt like the fight had lasted an hour but it had probably been maybe six to eight minutes.