The older man doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pry. The drive goes by in a blur as I try to plan a speech in my head, try to figure out what I’m supposed to say to my best friend of twelve years after seeing him commit such a heinous act. The cab driver drops me off near the checkpoint we came through earlier today, but I take the long way around to avoid detection.
I retrace my steps—much quicker this time since I’m not carrying anything—all the way back to the spot where we hid my truck. I continue up the road on foot, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I walk toward the main campsite.
I text Gabe:Can we talk?
He responds almost immediately:Where?
I text back:Our spot.
Be there in an hour,he responds.
The campground is a ghost town. It’s peak season, yet it’s completely unoccupied. I stand on the pebbly beach and stare out at the lake as the sun dips behind the mountains.
An hour later, I hear footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me, but I don’t turn my head—can’t bring myself to look at him. “So, you’ve finally come to your senses, then?”
He comes and stands next to me, and I finally turn toward him. Without a word, I send my fist flying toward his face, catching him right on the jaw and sending him stumbling backwards. He goes down hard. “How could you?” I yell.
Teeth stained red, he spits a wad of bloody saliva onto the ground, looking up at me with a maniacal smile. “I had to, Mav. Initiation and all.”
“You’re a fucking coward.” I’m shaking with restraint, fists clenched at my sides.
Gabe stands on shaky legs. “Amanda broke my heart, man. I vowed to myself I would never be weak enough to let any woman have that kind of power over me ever again.”
I turn to walk away. “We’re done. This friendship is over.”
“Fine!” he calls after me. “Fucking waste-of-space bitch got what she deserved.”
I turn around and charge him, fueled by rage and grief and confusion. I tackle him to the ground, pummeling him with my fists over and over until the man I once called my closest friend isunrecognizable. His head lulls to the side, unconscious, as I start to sob. “You were my brother.”
I roll off of him, sitting on the beach as I collect myself. Gabe’s chest rises and falls, though his breath sounds shallow. Maybe I broke his ribs or punctured a lung. Maybe he’s going to die, alone on this beach, at the place we both once cherished most in the world.
I stand and look down at him, unable to scrounge up even an ounce of regret for what I’ve done. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
The trudge back through the dark woods feels like floating through a dream. My knuckles are bloody and my limbs are heavy, but I barely feel anything, numb down to my bones.
All I know is that if this is what the Brotherhood is capable of, I can’t just sit by and watch it happen. My mother’s words echo in my mind, and I know I have to fight back.One person can always make a difference for someone.
Delilah
Present Day
“Females are expected to offer their bodies to males enthusiastically and in earnest. Any hesitation will be met with force.”—EXPECTATIONS FOR FEMALE BEHAVIOR, N.A.L. 6 § 7
I have to get out of here.I got dirty looks from people all throughout supper, no doubt due to that wretched woman from earlier today spinning some horrible tale about me. Luckily, I’m alone in the dinner tent now, finishing up washing all the dishes. Despite my best efforts to remain unimpressed, the Rebels really do have an efficient system here.
Liv—the only person who didn’t shoot daggers at me with her eyes all night—was happy to share how they survive out here. They collect rainwater—which is no problem since it seems to rain constantly here—for drinking and bathing. They have a few gas-powered generators, solar or battery-powered tools, a garden and some chickens, an outhouse, and tons of non-perishable food items. Apparently, they’ve collected everything over the years—from where, I’m unsure. Liv said they havefriends, butI’m not stupid; she probably wasn’t sharing all the details since I’m technically the enemy. But they have to be ready to pack up and leave at a moment’s notice, hence the tents and pre-packed supplies everywhere. Liv said the Brotherhood has never found them, but there have been a few close calls, all of which is news to me since Gabriel has always maintained the narrative that the Resistance is just an old wives’ tale.
Regardless of Liv and Charlie, who have been nothing but kind to me, and Liv’s insistence that the residents here are good people, I can’t stay. My home is with Gabriel, and being his wife is not only my duty, but the most important thing I’ll ever do.
I finish the dishes—because if it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s doing what I’m told—and grab one of the backpacks already filled with supplies, hoisting it onto my shoulders. I check to make sure the coast is clear before sneaking along the edge of the tent and backing away from the camp, pulling the crank flashlight out of the bag so I don’t trip over anything in the dark.
I walk toward what I hope is the beach, but don’t have much of a plan besides that. Maybe there will be a small speedboat I can take back to the mainland, not that I know where that is either. Admittedly, this isn’t exactly a well-thought-out plan, but getting back to Gabriel is more important than the details right now.
Even with my flashlight, it’s still incredibly dark in the forest, and my foot catches on a stray root. My ankle twists and I go down hard, landing on my hands and knees. I grunt, but am careful not to make any other noise since I’m still close enough to the camp thatsomeone might hear if I cried out. I try to get back up, but pain flares in my ankle.
Dammit.It must be sprained.
I crank the flashlight and set it down next to me, digging through the backpack for some kind of medical tape I could use to wrap my ankle while the damp ground soaks through my pants. I don’t find any medical supplies besides some adhesive bandages, so I zip the backpack up and get to my feet, ignoring the pain that shoots up my leg as I start limping along.
