Chapter 3

We walk in silence through the night, putting distance between ourselves and the base without interruption. The rescued prisoners trail behind Rein and me, whispering to one another as we move. It's enough noise that it feels like a signal in the night, telling anyone who might be following where we are. Just before dawn, Rein decides it's safe to stop. We find a small cluster of trees to take cover and rest. The rescued collapse onto the ground, utterly exhausted. They probably haven't eaten or had water since we took them in.

Opening the pack Rein supplied me with, I take out two rations and a canteen of water, tossing them toward the group. I try not to make eye contact. The last thing I want is to acknowledge them more than necessary. We aren't friends. We aren't a team. We're just survivors forced together by circumstance. Unfortunately, circumstances I created. 

Stupid.

"This is it?" the girl grumbles, eyeing the meager offering.

"We have to ration," Rein states, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he settles against a tree. He briefly opens his eyes to shoot me an annoyed look. "I brought enough for two, not six."

"For how many days?" the man I stole from Charlie's quarters asks, his voice wary.

"A week."

Suddenly, another man lunges for my pack, grabbing the pistol slotted at the front and aiming it directly at my face. My grip tightens on my rifle, but I don't lift it. I've been in enough standoffs to know that reacting too fast can make things worse. I smirk at him instead. Rein is on his feet in an instant, raising his rifle and pointing it at the man instead.

The man looks between us, his eyes wild as he tightens his grip. "We can't have you come with us."

"Liam," the other prisoner warns. "They're our only way back."

"Bullshit," Liam inches a step closer to my pack, his grip on the pistol unwavering. "This could all be a ruse to find out where the Outpost is."

Rein snorts. "I assure you, it's not."

Liam isn't wrong. Bringing soldiers back could risk everything they've built. In this world, protecting your own is all there is. Secrecy is survival. Charlie has irradicated Outposts that refused to produce food for us, for not giving us more soldiers, or simply being in the way. Dozens of innocent lives destroyed for his ambition. 

Neither of them lower their guns. Silence stretches between us before the other man speaks again. "Maybe some introductions would be helpful."

The group hesitates.

"I'm Caleb," he continues. "That's Liam, this is Helen, and Vincent."

Liam shifts his gaze toward Rein, and I seize the moment. I lunge, twisting his wrist and wrenching the pistol from his grip, pressing the barrel against his temple. Liam freezes. Rein lowers his rifle.

"You can call me Rein, and you can call her Pierce."

"As a first name?" Helen asks quietly. Rein merely shrugs, reclining back against the tree. Helen turns her gaze to me. "Well?"

"She doesn't speak," Rein answers, biting into his protein bar. "Hasn't since we were kids."

"Why?" Caleb asks, dragging Liam back by his shirt.

"Since Charlie threatened to cut out her tongue but fitted her with a dog collar instead," Rein retorts hotly. "Any more personal questions?"

I certainly hope not. It's irritating. People always want to know why. As if understanding my trauma will make them feel better about themselves. Lowering my weapon, I sit down, keeping both guns within reach. I don't want to know anything about these people before we dump them somewhere near their Outpost. Their names are plenty. Rein may be more personable, but people are not my favorite.

People betray. People use. People leave.

I learned that the hard way. As a child, I clung to the illusion that someone would come for me, that there was kindness somewhere in the world beyond the pain and control Charlie inflicted. I latched onto anyone who offered a shred of warmth. And every single one of them let me down. Either they were too afraid to stand against Charlie, or they simply saw me as a tool—something to be used and discarded when no longer convenient.

The first time, it was a guard who used to sneak me extra food. He promised to help me escape. I believed him. When the time came, he led me straight back to Charlie's men. The punishment I received still lingers in my bones.

The second time, it was a girl who was imprisoned with me. We whispered to each other at night, dreaming of freedom. When she was given the chance, she ran—leaving me behind without a second glance.

Since then, I've learned to rely on no one but myself and Rein. And even Rein, I know, has his limits.

The rest of the morning passes in silence as they eat. I keep watch while Rein gets some rest. By midafternoon, a dull ache pulses at my temples. Rein disappears to patrol, and once he's gone, Caleb approaches. He motions to the collar around my neck.

"I can get that off."

He holds out his hand and waits. For years, I've dreamed of cutting this thing off but never had the chance. I electrocuted myself enough times as a kid trying to rip it off with my bare hands. I hesitate. What if this is some sort of trick? A way to catch me vulnerable? But then again, I've wanted this for so long. Sighing, I hand him my knife. He smiles, crouching beside me as he gets to work, lowering his voice.

"I build things at home. This is nothing."

Builds things? Things are salvaged, not built. 

Metal scrapes against metal, and I grind my teeth at the sound. After a minute, there's a soft click, and the collar pops open, falling free. I pick up the silver ring, studying it for a brief moment before chucking it into the trees. Caleb offers my knife back, but I shake my head. He hesitates before tucking it into his pocket and walking away. He had the opportunity to stab me—lending some trust might make this trip easier.

Rein returns and immediately notices the missing collar. He motions to his neck, then to my mouth. I shake my head. I haven't spoken in years, and I have no intention of starting now. The last time the collar was removed, my throat burned when I tried. Instead, I clear my throat, the sound scratching painfully.

"We should get going," Rein announces. "We've stayed here too long."

Movement in the trees catches my eye. My stomach tightens. I rise slowly, lifting my rifle in the direction of the disturbance. The dense forest conceals any threats, but a sharp breath confirms my instincts—someone's there.

A shot rings out.

The bullet embeds in the tree beside my head. I squeeze the trigger as a head emerges from the brush, my bullet finding its mark. Yells ring through the forest as more bullets rain down.

"Run!" Rein yells at the group. They bolt into the trees without being told twice. I sling my pack over my shoulder and take off after them, Rein close on my heels. The soldiers give chase, yelling as they do, bullets whizzing past. I stop behind a thick tree, raising my rifle and pick off two more trying to get a count. At least twenty more. 

Shit.

A scream pierces the air behind me and I whirl seeing Helen go down several yards ahead. I sprint towards her as Liam and Caleb haul her up from the ground. Blood leaks from her right leg. She sobs as she grips their collars for support. They half run, half carry her through the trees. Rein covers them as I guide them through the trees towards a river just beyond this section of trees. If we can make it across the river it will buy us time. We burst through the trees, sliding down the rocky bank towards the water. Helen slips from their grasp as they tumble and she cries out. Vincent and Liam quickly grab her, wading into the water. I stop at the water edge scanning the trees as Rein sprints through, yelling at them to get across the water. The first soldier breaks through the trees and I drop him, followed by a second and third. 

"Pierce!" Rein yells from somewhere across the bank. I spin rushing through the water. The river is deep, rushing strong as it creeps up to my chest. I fight it as bullets splash into the water around me. A sharp pain rips through my side. I fall forward into the river suppressing a scream, gulping water. I claw at the water as the river threatens to carry me further down. Hands grab onto my shirt, dragging me up. I fight the current until my feet find the gravelly bottom again and I burst out of the water to the opposite bank. I burst through the water grabbing a fistful of sand as I drag myself to my feet. The hand still clutches my shirt and I kick out.

Caleb grunts as he stumbles backwards. "It's me!"

I sag against the bank for a second in annoyance as I cough the remnants of water from my throat. Taking in our surroundings we've drifted several yards down the river, but not far off from where we need to be. I hiss through my teeth as I climb to my feet keeping a hand pressed to my side. Caleb follows as I make my way to more cover and pause to scan the opposite bank. Nothing moves. Charlie's hounds must have pulled back for now. 

"How bad is it?" Caleb asks motioning to where my hand rests, red seeping through my fingers. I shot him an annoyed glare. I slide the pack off my shoulders in slow motions. I rummage through with my free hand, becoming frustrated when I can't find the medical kit I know should be inside. Caleb crouches in front of me and reaches for the bag. I yank it from him and he yanks it back. "Stop being stubborn, let me help."

Reluctantly I let him have the bag as he finds the kit. Taking out two bandages, I lift my shirt and his face twists as he places the bandages over the wounds. He's surprisingly gentle as he lowers my shirt. I watch him closely as he repacks the contents and slings the bag over his own shoulders, offering his hand as he stands. Taking it, he hauls me to my feet and I briefly lean against the tree, gathering my strength.

"Why?"

My voice comes out gravelly, almost a whisper that I think he might miss. He stares at me, taking in the first word I've spoken in years. "You saved us."

My breathing stills for a second as I think. He waits. It's nothing more than him owing a debt, a life for a life. By saving me, he's assuring their survival. Nothing more. Pushing off the tree I lead the way with him trailing behind.