the blackened, spindly structures that were once the opulent homes of North Hub.
Forty yards past the Hub, the Commander’s compound, largely undamaged, squats behind its iron fence—all fierce turrets and unblinking panes of glass. Most of the medical and food supplies we’ve managed to recover have come from the compound. Still, every time I see it, part of me wishes it had burned, too. It’s impossible to look at it without seeing the Commander’s merciless eyes as my mother lay dying on the cobblestones for the crime of leaving her home to find food for her starving child. Without feeling the damp of his dungeon and the sole of his boot against the brand he burned into the side of my neck.
Without seeing the back of his hand slam into Rachel’s face.
My eyes find Quinn as he carefully navigates around a pile of debris before turning north, heading for the compound. The others are already out of sight.
“He helped me escape from the soldier who had me.”
“I thought he didn’t approve of violence,” I say, though what I really mean is that I’m thankful he chose to stand by us.
By her.
“I don’t think he does. He was trying to get me to go into the city, and when I refused, he decided to stay with me rather than leave me to face the Commander alone.” Her voice catches. “I didn’t ask him to put himself in danger for me.”
Neither did I, but I’m grateful he did. And after witnessing just how far Rachel is willing to go for revenge, I’m hoping Quinn will be willing to watch out for her anytime my back is turned. Not that I’m going to tell Rachel that. I like my internal organs right where they are.
“We’ll punish the Commander,” I say. “But we’ll do it with a plan. With an exit strategy that doesn’t involve either one of us dying.”
“Do you have a plan?” she asks as we trudge up the hill that leads to our camp.
I swallow hard and refuse to look at her, because I don’t. I don’t know how to punish the Commander and still get the survivors to safety like I promised. I don’t know how to defeat two armies just to get to one man.
But I’m going to figure it out. I’m not going to let the Commander take another person from me. Once I deliver the survivors to Lankenshire, I’ll devote every minute of every day to tracking him down. . . .
Tracking.
Wristmarks.
Sonar.
“Yes.” My voice grows stronger as an idea—a bold, risky, nearly impossible idea—hits me. “I have a plan. It’s going to take several weeks to build the tech I need, but I have a plan.”
Her eyes meet mine as we crest the top of the hill. The camp is already in motion, with people hurrying to tear down shelters and pack up supplies. A few survivors head toward me. No doubt with questions, arguments, or worries they need me to solve.
“Can you build the tech while we travel through the Wasteland?” Rachel asks.
“Yes. As long as I have the right supplies, I can build anything.”
“Too bad you can’t come up with a way to let Lankenshire know we’re coming. And to warn the other city-states about Rowansmark.” Enthusiasm lights up her voice. “Or invent something that would let us know where Rowansmark’s battalions are and how fast they’re traveling. Maybe you could—”
“Hold on a second.” I laugh a little. “The Cursed One destroyed the infrastructure that existed between cities in the old civilization, and we can’t build more without risking another attack. If there are no wires laid between city-states, we can’t build technology that would allow us to communicate with them. Or spy on them. We can, however, build tech that is individually targeted at specific people or local tasks by using sonar. The Commander used the science of sound to keep tabs on his people, and now I’m going to use it to destroy him.”
“So let’s get these people to Lankenshire, convince them to offer us shelter, and then hunt down the Commander and obliterate him. We’ll use your
Forty yards past the Hub, the Commander’s compound, largely undamaged, squats behind its iron fence—all fierce turrets and unblinking panes of glass. Most of the medical and food supplies we’ve managed to recover have come from the compound. Still, every time I see it, part of me wishes it had burned, too. It’s impossible to look at it without seeing the Commander’s merciless eyes as my mother lay dying on the cobblestones for the crime of leaving her home to find food for her starving child. Without feeling the damp of his dungeon and the sole of his boot against the brand he burned into the side of my neck.
Without seeing the back of his hand slam into Rachel’s face.
My eyes find Quinn as he carefully navigates around a pile of debris before turning north, heading for the compound. The others are already out of sight.
“He helped me escape from the soldier who had me.”
“I thought he didn’t approve of violence,” I say, though what I really mean is that I’m thankful he chose to stand by us.
By her.
“I don’t think he does. He was trying to get me to go into the city, and when I refused, he decided to stay with me rather than leave me to face the Commander alone.” Her voice catches. “I didn’t ask him to put himself in danger for me.”
Neither did I, but I’m grateful he did. And after witnessing just how far Rachel is willing to go for revenge, I’m hoping Quinn will be willing to watch out for her anytime my back is turned. Not that I’m going to tell Rachel that. I like my internal organs right where they are.
“We’ll punish the Commander,” I say. “But we’ll do it with a plan. With an exit strategy that doesn’t involve either one of us dying.”
“Do you have a plan?” she asks as we trudge up the hill that leads to our camp.
I swallow hard and refuse to look at her, because I don’t. I don’t know how to punish the Commander and still get the survivors to safety like I promised. I don’t know how to defeat two armies just to get to one man.
But I’m going to figure it out. I’m not going to let the Commander take another person from me. Once I deliver the survivors to Lankenshire, I’ll devote every minute of every day to tracking him down. . . .
Tracking.
Wristmarks.
Sonar.
“Yes.” My voice grows stronger as an idea—a bold, risky, nearly impossible idea—hits me. “I have a plan. It’s going to take several weeks to build the tech I need, but I have a plan.”
Her eyes meet mine as we crest the top of the hill. The camp is already in motion, with people hurrying to tear down shelters and pack up supplies. A few survivors head toward me. No doubt with questions, arguments, or worries they need me to solve.
“Can you build the tech while we travel through the Wasteland?” Rachel asks.
“Yes. As long as I have the right supplies, I can build anything.”
“Too bad you can’t come up with a way to let Lankenshire know we’re coming. And to warn the other city-states about Rowansmark.” Enthusiasm lights up her voice. “Or invent something that would let us know where Rowansmark’s battalions are and how fast they’re traveling. Maybe you could—”
“Hold on a second.” I laugh a little. “The Cursed One destroyed the infrastructure that existed between cities in the old civilization, and we can’t build more without risking another attack. If there are no wires laid between city-states, we can’t build technology that would allow us to communicate with them. Or spy on them. We can, however, build tech that is individually targeted at specific people or local tasks by using sonar. The Commander used the science of sound to keep tabs on his people, and now I’m going to use it to destroy him.”
“So let’s get these people to Lankenshire, convince them to offer us shelter, and then hunt down the Commander and obliterate him. We’ll use your
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