“There was a lot of death. The soldier in charge of the collapse told me Dunn was still somehow smuggling orders out of his holding cell. I should have killed him.”
Horrific reports and firsthand accounts of soldiers who fought against Dunn and his Dusters make no secret of Dunn’s appreciation for violence. Civilians slaughtered in their homes, captured Order soldiers tortured and executed, the flagrant use of bombs to crush civilians and soldiers alike. She’s right; maybe she should’ve killed him.
“You did the right thing.”
“Mm. It’s hard to tell.” She grimaces. “Once we’d secured the area, Mason and I commandeered a jeep and left. My assumption is the ambushers were not Dusters, but separatists. They are more organized and powerful than I thought.”
“How so?”
“They were able to ambush me,” she says, incredulous. “That is no easy task. They intercepted us at a precise point between Detroit and Lansing where there were no rest stops, and the exits are closed. The members were well-dressed.” Her eyes squeeze shut, her heartbeat monitor’s beeps increasing. “No, that’s not the word. They were appropriately dressed for winter. Armed to the teeth. Mason outdrove them for a while, but when they ran us off the road, I told him to stop.”
I shake my head. “Taylor…”
“I waited until they took the first shot,” she says in meek defense.
“How many of them were there?”
“Around a dozen.”
“What about Mason’s arm?”
“A grenade went off. Mangled his arm up, we both caught some shrapnel. By that point, only three of them remained, so I picked up Mason’s assault rifle and let loose on them. Theywisely decided to retreat. We managed to get on one of their motorcycles and I drove us back.”
“Fuck.” I pause. “How could you be so stupid?”
“Excuse me?” She adopts her best scathing look and voice.
I’ve developed a tolerance to her contrarian tendencies, like one does with poison by taking it in doses. “You should have kept driving. You were already wounded and you put yourself and Mason in even more peril. What were you thinking?”
“They attacked us.”
“And your training told you twelve angry, armed people were reasonable to attack?” I glare at her.
“No,Theia,” she replies, tilting her head. “I did not want to lead them right back to this outpost.”
I scoff. “I don’t believe you. You did it because of Faith.”
“They are enemies of the Order. I was well within my right to return fire.”
“Do not play dumb with me. You deliberately attacked them because you knew they were with the people who killed Faith. You made a stupid, impulsive decision that nearly cost you and Mason your lives.”
“I nearly lost my life a lot over the past few months. This was no different.”
“Bullshit. You took an uncalculated risk.” Abruptly I get out of the bed and run my fingers through my hair. “You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could have.” I pace back and forth around her bed. “You’re so convinced of your dispensability, but you’re wrong.”
“I know I am important to the rebellion?—”
“I don’t care about the fucking rebellion!” My voice echoes in the room and Taylor clamps her mouth shut. “Sure, I care in the macro sense that I want the world to be better. But honestly,Taylor? This new world doesn’t mean anything to me if you’re not in it.”
The door swings opens and the doctor strolls in, clad in a bubblegum-pink set of scrubs and a white overcoat. He gives us a wide smile, ignoring the insanely tense vibe of the room. “How are you feeling this morning, Eos?”
“Like I got shot three times,” she responds, slowly tearing her eyes away from me to set them on the doctor. “Better than yesterday. I would like to try to walk today.”
The doctor, whose nametag reads Michael, nods his head as he reads her chart. “One thousand percent no.”
