“I…” I said slowly. “I am not seeing a flaw in this plan.”
He grinned.
63
CASSIE
I LEANED OVER TIM ANXIOUSLY. “Can you see anything?”
Tim was peering out the window through a child’s ancient toy binoculars. The sun had just come up, and we were hoping to see signs of life. We’d spent a long, hungry night waiting and hoping someone would call us back, bring us food—anything. I’d even take Ms. Strepp yelling at us for being slackers.
He shook his head. “Not a goddamn thing. No one’s moving or marching or digging or anything.”
I took the Captain America binoculars from him and tried to angle out farther. If I craned my neck to its most uncomfortable position, I could see the mess hall.
“The mess hall is dark,” I said in wonder, looking up to see the alarm on Tim’s face. “Open this stupid window.”
The window had been painted over a hundred times and hadn’t been opened in forever. Tim got a big wrench and took several hefty whacks at the lock, breaking paint off and finally snapping the lock itself. Then he kicked the small window open and looked out.
“The recruits should be having breakfast,” he said. “I can see the edge of the training field—the barbed wire, the climbing wall, the muddy ditches.”
“And nothing?” My stomach rumbled as if it was outraged that this was happening. “This is too weird. There are a few lights on, but no shadows of people passing. Let me see the binoculars again.”
I leaned out the window so far that Tim held on to my belt. Very slowly, I scanned from left to right, trying to see in every window, looking at every doorway. Then I saw it. Or them.
I tossed the binoculars at Tim. “On the ground, eleven o’clock, right at the corner of dorm five.”
“Boots,” Tim said, sounding grim. “With legs in them. Not moving.”
“What the hell is happening?” I cried. “Maybe they’re on an overnight training mission and forgot about us?”
“So whose feet are those?” Tim asked. “Why are they still?”
I looked out the low window again. Once more I scoured the scene for any clue, any sign. Something like a big poster saying, SIT TIGHT, CASSIE AND TIM, for example. And I did see a sign. “Oh, crap,” I breathed. I pointed, and he didn’t need the binoculars to see the clue we had missed before: a hand. A small brown hand, draped over an open doorsill. Completely still.
Tim grabbed an old magazine and rolled it up. “Hey!” he shouted through his megaphone. “Hey! Anybody!” He really bellowed, almost hurting my ears, and I watched tensely, hoping to see someone running to us.
“What’s going on?” Tim shouted as loud as he could. “Is anyone there? Help!”
The hand didn’t twitch, the feet didn’t shift.
“We have to go see,” Tim said. “Even risking infecting everyone. Some weird shit is going down.”
“I… agree,” I said. “But we didn’t hear a battle, you know? No alarms or shooting or yelling. And we don’t have weapons.”
“Yeah,” Tim said, looking around. “It’s not like we can antique them to death. We just have… hand to hand. Like at the Crazy House.”
Yeah, that had been super fun. Tim stuffed the book he’d found in his jacket pocket, but I went first, opening the trapdoor, then climbing down, all my nerves on high alert. I waited in darkness until Tim climbed down and joined me. Together, we listened. The complete silence was bizarre, eerie. I nodded at Tim, and he put his hand on the lever that opened the secret door.
64
BECCA
IT WAS TRUE. ANOTHER TWENTY-FOUR hours of rest, food, and healing, and we were all in much better shape, even Nate. Kelly had provided antibiotics for the infections, but she couldn’t get her hands on rabies meds. So that was still up in the air. I hadn’t mentioned that to Ansel. Let it be a surprise.
It was close to midnight and all lights in Kelly’s house were off. We hadn’t told her about our plan, of course, but left an unsigned note of thanks in the bunkroom.
We went downstairs in the dark and filed silently out of the garage, closing the door with a barely audible click. Sticking to shadows, we headed to the factory. Even in the dim light I saw that Nate was moving better, with more energy. Ansel was blending into the team as if he’d always been one of us. He was especially good with Jolie’s deafness, making it no big deal, like we all learned to. I can admit I was wrong about her. She didn’t just look like a total badass, she was a total badass. My shoulder felt about 40 percent better. Waiting a day had been a good decision.