The Wanted

She narrowed her beady eyes and smiled, revealing nubs of teeth. “Are you even sure you’re on the right side?” I paused. She was just messing with my head. “I can find her for you, Joseph. I can help you.” Her voice sounded strange, hissing like a snake.

I considered her as another shot clipped the rock above me, and I ducked.

Rash crept up beside me and snatched the gun from my hands, turning it around and smashing Olga in the side of the head, knocking her unconscious.

“Don’t listen to that bitch,” he said, flashing me a worn-out grin.

He was right. She couldn’t be trusted and I was never going to betray my friends, no matter what promises she made.

I crawled towards the entrance just in time to see the last shot fired.

Some of the Survivors had already jumped down to remove the soldier’s weapons. Most were writhing around in the dirt with shots to the legs and arms. Matt pumped his hand a couple of times. “I’m going to administer some quick first aid,” he said as he jumped down.

Elise skidded down the rocks from the other cave, and I joined them to help.

“Why are you helping us?” a soldier spluttered as I put a pressure bandage on his arm.

“I’m a Survivor,” I answered proudly. He grimaced at my answer. He didn’t understand.

We tied the men to trees and promised to return later. Their eyes betrayed how confused this situation made them.

We gathered, away from the soldiers, to discuss what we should do.

“The video is out of the question,” Matt said. I’d expected it to be Gus. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not even sure we can plant the bomb. Obviously, they know we’re coming.” Matt’s sad eyes went to the cave, where his friend Olga lay unconscious. “I can’t believe she…” He hung his head in sorrow.

Pelo sounded crushed when he said, “You mean I can’t go in?”

Gus stared at the sky, counting the clouds. “I’m sorry.”

We decided to get closer and assess. But just a small team—me, because I begged, Pelo, Rash, and Gus.

We followed the rocks until they petered out, the huge turbines suddenly shooting into the sky before us.

A noise we’d heard before pulsed through the sky.

We stopped and hugged the large pillars of the turbines as a single chopper flew overhead, its spi

Gus eyed it like prey. The rest of us cowered. We moved closer, hiding behind the one clump of bushes.

The chopper flew to the center of Pau and slipped out of view. Minutes later, it rose and flew to the outer wall. It hovered close and landed carefully in a small clearing, its nose nearly touching the outer wall. We retreated into the scrub, our eyes trained on the small man who clambered awkwardly from the chopper, holding a silver case in one hand. He scurried to the front of the chopper and suddenly disappeared.

“Where’d the little guy go?” Rash exclaimed.

I knew from when Rosa and I had entered the Superiors’ compound that the man had gone underground.

“He’s entered the tu

We waited anxiously for him to reappear or for the chopper to leave for about twenty minutes when an agitated Rash sprung up and said, “To hell with this! I’m getting us a chopper!”

Before we could stop him, he was stealing closer to the back end of the craft confidently like he knew what he was doing. But I knew he didn’t have a clue, so I followed him. Letting Rosa’s best friend get killed was not going to help my situation.

ROSA

The earth rocked beneath my feet, even though it hadn’t started yet. My body was anticipating the scramble, the fight against whatever Grant had pla

The chopper rose and peeled away from the center circle. I whipped my head towards the others. A flash of Orry, a tight grip on an image of Joseph waiting for me on the other side of the wall. They were photos scrunched in my hand as I uttered, “We have to run.”

They both nodded and we took off together with me in the lead, leaving the bloodstained bricks behind. I hurdled the low wall and headed for the first gate, all the while whispering, “Please open, please open.”

I skidded up to the gate and stuck my shaking wrist under the sca

“What are you doing?” I panted, my breath cloudy like smoke, my head clear as the sky.

“If I go in there, I’ll probably die.” He wrapped his hand around the bars, holding it open, though it strained against him.

I searched nearby, found a rock, and wedged it in the gap.

“You have a chance to save people today, to do something good,” I said, challenging his dark blue eyes, squished almost shut on one side from the beating.

I didn’t wait to see if he followed, I spun around, and Gwen and I ran. I shouted over my head, “Warn as many people as you can.”

When I hit the main street of Ring Two, the smell of cut grass and bleeding sap made me pause. It was Sunday. People were maintaining their gardens. A woman walked passed me with an armful of groceries, staring so hard she tripped on a crack in the pavement. I caught her elbow, and she snatched it back like my skin stung her. “You need to get out of Ring Two, Ma’am. Something bad is about to happen.” She huffed and walked away, paying me no attention at all.

No one was going to listen to me.

Denis jogged into the street and headed to the first home, knocking on the door impatiently. No answer.

Gwen shook her head, her dimples looking like little frowns under her dark eyes. “They’re not going to listen. Look at us,” she said, motioning to her bare feet, prison clothes, and my taffeta frock.

She was right.

I pressed back on my heels and pushed forward, heading for my mother’s house, cursing the fact that her home was so far from the gate.

Pau Brazil trees capped with ice rustled in the freezing breeze. Wide eyes followed us, mouths hung open. One barefoot girl in pajamas and one in a shredded taffeta gown, decorated with mud speckles streaming down the street was probably the weirdest thing any of them had seen in their whole, controlled existence.

As I ran, I wondered what I could say, how I could get people to at least come out of their homes, to give them a fighting chance. I rounded the bend and my elbow clipped a letterbox. The man shouted abuse at me from his yard.

“Sorry,” I shouted, my stupid shoes skidding on the icy bitumen.

Gwen yelled happily, “Superior Grant is dead! Superior Grant is dead!” The man dropped his shovel with an empty clang and followed us a few meters.

I joined in screaming, “Superior Grant is dead! Superior Grant is dead!”

Doors creaked and slammed as curious and alarmed people poked their heads out of their homes, following our noise.

In front, a plain house with cardboard-thin walls leaned towards me. Yellow and purple curtains waved at me like the finishing flag, but we were far from finished. They were tied back for once. My reflection blurred across the yard like a different person, a crazed, wild person, ru