Wheels spinning behind his crazed brown eyes, he starts muttering and nodding to himself. “Yeah. Your grenade killed the Jacks, but I got away. I’m supposed to go back to the house if there’s trouble, but I knew where those shots came from.”
“They will come looking for you,” Taylor says. “As my soldiers are coming for me. You do not have a lot of time. If you want to shoot me, you have to do it now.”
The young man’s slight frame shakes. “I—why did you kill my mom and dad?”
“Because that was the order I was given,” she replies.
“By who?” He gestures his rifle at me. “Her?”
“No. She is a soldier.”
I’m you, I think, and you’re me. You’re doing what I should’ve done. I should’ve fought. Theodore adjusts his grip, muscles rigid with rage. “Is not. That’s Luciana Piccolo.”
“Theodore, I don’t want to kill you.” A surprising gentleness belies Taylor’s threat. “Your brothers and sisters are already in our custody. They are safe, and you will be too.”
I can’t tell if she’s lying or not. It doesn’t appear Theodore can either, as he seethes through his teeth. “Why should I believe you?”
Taylor raises her hands. “I am not armed, Theodore. You can put your rifle down.” She pauses, keeping her eyes focused on the teenager. “Your siblings need you. Don’t do anything reckless.”
“They said you got kidnapped, but look at you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Dressed in their colors, marching with their soldier. Traitor.”
“Maybe,” I reply. “I’m trying to survive, Junior. You should be too.”
“Shut up. You don’t get to tell me what to do. What I should do is kill you both. Save Leader Piccolo the embarrassment.” He despises me, clearly, but he also pities me.
“Your desire for vengeance is natural, but it is also very stupid.” Leave it to Taylor to insult the person aiming a cocked rifle at her face. “I am the one who arranged the safety of your siblings. They live on my word. If I’m dead, there is no guarantee they live past the hour.”
He tightens his jaw and fidgets. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
Even from behind I can tell Taylor is exasperated. “You don’t. But if you put the rifle down, I will try to make contact with the headquarters currently housing your siblings. Think calmly about how you would like to proceed. I don’t want to see innocent people die.”
“Nobody innocent is going to die.” He aims at her head and wraps his finger around the trigger. “Just you.”
I want to say I am not thinking. I want to say I am outside myself. But I’m not. I’m Luciana Piccolo, heir to the Northeast Region, and I raise my pistol and shoot a boy. The bullet strikes him in the shoulder and he stumbles back, then falls into the snow. Taylor relieves him of his rifle and aims it at his writhing figure. Crimson blood soaks through the white crystals, and I’m suddenly reminded of Faith in her white dress and my stomach violently churns.
An engine roars from within the trees and tires slosh through snow. “Evac!”
The shouts come from over our heads. Taylor takes the pistol from my hand and slips it back into her holster. “If they ask, I shot him.” She squeezes my forearm. “Down here!”
Two medics stagger down the slope with a board. “I can get up the hill.” I wave off their attempts to board me. With their support, I climb up the embankment and step into the ambulance. It’s less an ambulance and more like being inside a lunchbox: chrome walls and ripped seats, equipment banging around in each corner.
“What about the kid?” The medic points at Theodore.
Taylor shakes her head. “He’s not Order. I’m radioing Jacks to come get him.”
The other medic shrugs. “Okay.”
But it’s not okay.
Murky graylight spills onto the floor like poured concrete. It doesn’t take long for the light to reach my bed, as the whole recuperation room is no bigger than ten by ten. Taylor sits slumped forward in a chair, her torso sprawled over my legs, as she’s done the last three nights while I convalesce. Starting today, I’ve been cleared to resume light activities. Once Taylor is awake, we’ll get our instructions for the Southeast. And so, I do not wake her but enjoy the silence and the company, for as long as I can have it.
A knock on the door rips Taylor from her sleep fast as lightning, and she brandishes a weapon toward the door. My nurse peeks in, decked out in the Order’s olive green, and puts her hands up. “It’s me.”
Taylor holsters her gun and massages her temple. “Right, sorry. Soldier’s reflex.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to remind you that Private Piccolo is cleared to leave, but Doctor Singh says she’s welcome to stay for as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” Taylor replies. “We’ll be on our way shortly. Tell Doctor Singh we appreciate what she’s done for us. I’ve reported her exemplary care to Theia, as well as the service of everyone else here.”
