“Just drop it, Knox,” I say tightly. “I can handle myself.”
“No, fuck him, Ender,” Knox says. “He’s supposed to protect you.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I hiss. “What if our radio is on and it gets back to the command center?”
I fidget with mine, making sure it’s off, and Knox pulls his out to check.
“Look, he did me a favor,” I say. “This.” I point to my cheek. “Is a lot better than being put in solitary.”
I could not afford to lose three weeks at the capital, locked in our basement, and put on a limited diet. Even though my father hasn’t resorted to his favorite punishment in the past few years. I still remember the days I’d spend there during my youth. The chalk-white walls, the infinite silence, the dark. My powerswould be destabilized, so I couldn’t hide in my mind and use the comfort of my illusions to protect myself.
A small, stubborn part of me doesn’t want to spend a week away from Haven to endure my punishment. I reckon the distance would make her forget me.
I was relieved when my father’s fist landed. He rarely loses control of his temper, but something about my behavior around Haven made him wild. He doesn’t like the idea of someone stealing me away from him. I’ve always been his greatest pride and his deepest regret.
“I hate him,” Knox says coldly. “I wish he were dead.”
I stare at the road, not bothering to chastise him for speaking ill of the man who rules us all.
The Supreme Director is the people’s dream. But he has always been my worst nightmare.
I watch the strike team assemble.
The regime likes to make people think that the rebels live in tunnels and decrepit buildings like rats, to dissuade people from joining their ranks. When the media circulates their videos, the rebels are always in torn clothes with gaunt faces. But the truth is that some of them have built a life. They have constructed sturdy houses near ravines, and they maintain vast, green farms that keep them fed. Their children play in the front yard, and they trade goods with their neighbors.
I study the map of the terrain. There should be a scattering of dots that reveal the heat signatures of the rebels. A couple of markers sit on the display. Far less than we presumed. There should be at least sixty to a hundred people here.
I narrow my eyes.
“Thermal sweep,” I order.
Knox taps at his display.
“Running,” he confirms. “Negative. No significant markers beyond the expected environmental signatures. Most likely animals.”
It’s quieter than expected. We are at the edge of the settlement. There should be a fair bit of noise––the hum of the generators, children’s laughter, or even an exchange of words.
“Keep alert,” I whisper.
I point in two directions, and the teams diverge in clean formation. Boots striking the packed earth with a dull thud.
Structures stand erect in the morning light. Curtains drawn to conceal the inside.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Clover whispers.
My mouth tightens; Clover has a point. Something is off. We struck at dawn, expecting minimal movement, but this istoosilent.
The first charge detonates beneath our feet. The ground splits, disintegrating beneath our boots and tossing us flat on our backs. My ears ring, and I squeeze my eyes tight to clear my vision.
Screams sound around me. My unit. I have to get up.
Gunfire erupts from the treetops. This was an ambush. They knew we were coming.
“Adjust formation,” I order. “Take out the snipers.”
Orion aims for the trees, and a body falls with a thump. Smoke blooms across the field, thick and foggy. My shoulder plate gets hit. I immediately aim at the attacker in the distance and watch as my bullet slides between his eyes.
The rebels move in coordinated bursts, herding us with pressure rather than force. They left behind their fighters and evacuated with the young ones and the elderly.
