“Your mother named you the Loner?” I asked sarcastically.
The Loner gave me that half-smile again. “I never had a mother. But enough about me—your mother named you Rebecca.”
Again I demanded, “How do you know that?”
Meeting my eyes, he went on calmly. “You’re from a dinky farming cell hundreds of miles southwest of here. Your parents are dead. Helen Strepp sent you here, to the capital. And luckily, Ansel sent you to me. Do you know why?”
For the first time, I felt a tingle of fear. He knew too much. Ansel had known these rebels would find us. Had his whole “rescue” been an act? In that case, there were six dead United soldiers who hadn’t been in on it. But what had seemed so random and unplanned now looked like the inevitable conclusion to a much bigger plot I wasn’t aware of. What had Strepp done to me?
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice strong, my face blank.
“I told you. I’m the Loner. I’ve been waiting for you.” The look he gave me wasn’t exactly kind, but it didn’t seem too hostile, either. “Strepp sent you to me—by various methods. You’re the one who’s going to carry out the mission.”
My head was whirling. “So you and Strepp—and Ansel—are working together?”
He started stacking pens in a little square, hardly paying attention to me. “It’s not that formal of an arrangement.” His little square was four pens high. “We know about each other. We have skills that can help each other.”
I crossed my arms across my chest, feeling like he was speaking in riddles. “Okay, her skills are forcing people to do things they don’t want to do and basically scaring the shit out of kids. What are your skills?”
The guy smiled, a private smile at an inner joke. “Well… I like to blow t
hings up.”
I hadn’t expected that—didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t that. His little pen square was maybe ten pens tall now, looking like a log cabin with no windows or doors.
“I always have,” he explained mildly, “even as a kid. Mostly I stay hidden here in the capital and every once in a while I blow up a key bridge or an important United building. It throws a wrench into their system and gives me… a thrill. Win-win.”
This guy was creeping me out—but at the same time he didn’t actually seem evil.
“Why am I here?” I asked clearly.
The Loner smiled. “You’ve been trained to be an assassin. Strepp sent you here to fulfill your destiny. We’re depending on you. You’re the Chosen One. Now that I’ve seen you, I agree with her assessment. You’re here to complete the mission.”
“What. Freaking. Mission?” I asked, letting irritation sharpen my voice.
He looked up at me again. “Your mission to kill the President of the United.”
80
WE WERE BOTH SILENT FOR several minutes. The Loner—what a dumb name—was playing with his pen log house on the desk as if I wasn’t there.
Several thoughts raced through my head: 1) Strepp had known about this mission but chose not to tell me. 2) This was probably the most important thing anyone in the Resistance could do. 3) No one could kill the President of the United and live to tell about it. 4) Strepp had knowingly sent me and my squad on a suicide mission. She had expected to never see us again. 5) She had knowingly separated me from my sister, and from Tim. Forever.
Maybe Strepp was doing anything she could for the greater good of cellfolk, but she was an asshole, all the same.
I looked over at the Loner, who was still occupied. The desk lamp shone on his shaggy, pale blond hair, his fair skin, his slender arms, long, graceful fingers. This guy was a weirdo.
“Huh,” I said, and he looked up. “My mission is to kill the President. Of the United.”
“Yep.”
“Where’s my squad?”
“They’re no longer your responsibility,” he said mildly, dismantling his pen structure.
My entire being stiffened, getting ready to beat the info out of him. His blue eyes suddenly became alert and his long fingers tensed. So he knew enough to pick up on danger signals. And man, I was sending danger signals out of every cell in my body.
“I’m afraid I disagree,” I said politely, my fingers itching for a gun. “I will need to see my squad immediately.”