A tiny smile creased the corners of my plaguey face.
113
CASSIE
“THIS IS IT,” MS. STREPP said, looking down at a hand-drawn map. “We’re under the palace now, according to this.”
Oh, thank God, I thought. Back at Crazy House, we’d been trained to jog ten miles at a clip, wearing loaded backpacks. But moving in these tunnels was so much slower and more tedious as we stepped over debris that seemed to have been put there deliberately to trip us. I pulled up the neck of my shirt and wiped the sweat from my face.
A fluorescent light flickered erratically overhead, showing us that the track stopped here. Half a mile back, the track had split and we’d taken the righthand one.
Ms. Strepp spoke into her radio, then turned to us. “The Loner says that the President’s motorcade is about to pull up to the palace. We’ll give the President twenty minutes, and then the Loner will blow this ceiling.” She pointed above us, where the tunnel ceiling dripped wetly. “In the meantime, make sure your weapons are loaded and ready to go.”
I double-checked my rifle, every movement second nature by now. Everything I’d gone through, from getting abducted, trained to be a killer at Crazy House, and then trained for survival at the camp had led me here, to this moment.
Turning to the dark column of young soldiers, Ms. Strepp raised her voice, though of course she couldn’t be heard by her whole army.
“Is everyone ready?” she shouted.
The yeses rippled toward us for minutes, as the question was relayed backward and the answer relayed forward.
“You’re about to strike a death blow!” Ms. Strepp yelled. “A death blow to the users, the corrupted leaders, the rich who are living off of our work! This won’t be the end of our struggle, but it is finally a beginning! Today, you will make history! This day will be written into history books that your children and your children’s children will read in school!”
The murmuring behind us grew louder and I saw some kids raise their weapons over their heads in excitement. Did they realize that not all of them would live this day out? Would never have children or grandchildren?
Bing! went Ms. Strepp’s phone—another message from the Loner.
“It’s time!” Ms. Strepp said, her face alight with fervor. “He says it’s time! Ten!”
We all echoed, “Ten!”
“Nine! Eight!”
We scrambled to take cover from where the ceiling above us would explode. I knelt behind a metal beam next to a side service tunnel about five feet wide, and that’s when I heard a faint but growing roar. Like, water?
“Seven! Six!”
I peered down the tunnel. There had been the faintest light toward its back, but suddenly the light winked out.
Oh, shit. “Wait!” I yelled, waving my arms. “Wait!”
“Five!”
I cupped my hands over my mouth and bellowed, “Ms. Strepp, wait! Stop!”
Ms. Strepp stared at me, and all I could do was point.
Then a wall of water sluiced down the service tunnel and hit us full on, knocking most of us down. There was a reason the trains didn’t come this far.
114
BECCA
WITHIN TEN MINUTES NATE AND I were surrounded by a team in hazmat suits. I allowed myself a small moan as they gripped our feet and shoulders and lowered us onto plastic tarps. I had no idea where they were taking us, but surely even a strict quarantine wing would be easier to break out of than a dungeon.
“They’re still alive,” one guy said.
The other one shrugged. “Won’t be for long. Let’s go.”