Ashen Winter

A guy about a foot taller than me forced my arms behind my back. I knew resisting would only make it worse. I felt thin plastic bands brush my wrists between my gloves and coat, and then the ties bit into my flesh. He kicked the back of my knee, and I fell to the ground, landing with a painful thud.

Within moments, all five of us were handcuffed and sitting on the unforgiving, frozen ground. Ben rocked back and forth, but he wasn’t moaning. Maybe getting cuffed had become so common that it felt like part of his routine now.

“Now,” Levitov said, “you’ll tell me everything you were going to report to Orley.”

“Does Orley even exist?” I doubted it—what a sucker I’d been.

“That’s immaterial. Talk,” Levitov ordered. An even worse thought occurred to me: What if Orley did exist and was working for Mason’s FERROA oversight committee but had reported me to Levitov instead of investigating? Had the U.S. government been completely co-opted by Black Lake?

Dad shrugged, wincing as the cuffs cut into his wrists. “Might as well talk.”

I was fuming. “This guy ran the camp outside Galena—the one where everyone was starving to death,” I said to Dad. “How’d you wind up here, anyway?” I shot an impaler’s glare at Levitov.

“Promotion. For exemplary performance at Camp Galena.”

“Very fu

“No,” Levitov replied, “after your stunt with the bulldozer, I convinced Washington to authorize us to reclaim the wheat you found on the stuck barges to feed the inmates. Conditions improved. I traded my leaf for a bird and was moved out here.”

I wasn’t sure how to take the fact that he actually remembered me from among the thousands of prisoners at Camp Galena.

“We’re barely getting enough food here,” Mom said.

I snorted. “More than we got at Camp Galena.”

“Enough,” Colonel Levitov said. “Talk.”

I clamped my lips shut, but Dad started talking. Told Colonel Levitov the whole story: girls disappearing, his nighttime patrols, the battles with the DWBs.

When he finished, a long silence ensued. “Not acceptable,” Levitov said finally.

“What’s not acceptable?” I said. “That your guards are corrupt or that we had to do your job and protect the refugees ourselves!”

“Both. And you do not understand our mission here. If I could write my own orders, protecting refugees might be my first priority. But what the politicians care about is preventing a flood of refugees from entering the yellow and green zones. People in areas that were less badly affected by the eruption, at least initially, are afraid of being overrun by refugees.”

“You can’t keep people locked in camps forever,” Mom said.

“True. Our strategic posture is unstable.”

“Will civilian control order you to kill the refugees?” Ben asked.

Mom gasped, but Colonel Levitov didn’t seem fazed. “A massacre? It could happen. I would not obey such an order.”

“You would be within your rights under the Fourth Geneva Convention, which specifically protects—” Alyssa kicked Ben in the ankle, and surprisingly, he shut up.

“So what happens to the other refugees? To my girls?” Mom asked.

“I will see that those responsible for allowing the DWBs to enter the camp are reassigned.”

“Reassigned?” I said. “They should be prosecuted.”

Ben added, “Courts-martial would be the proper—”

“I don’t have the manpower for that. But the kidnapping of inmates will end. You have my word on that.”

I didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

“So what happens to us?” Alyssa asked, her voice low.

“You’ll be transferred to Camp Aledo in Illinois tomorrow. I recommend you keep your heads down. If you continue to make trouble, things will not go well for you there.”

“Better that than where I was,” Alyssa whispered.

“Why not just let us go?” I asked. “Then we’d be out of your hair completely.”

“My orders don’t allow for that.” Colonel Levitov strode past us, toward the exit.

“And the DWBs?” I yelled after him. “The ones who actually did the killing and kidnapping? What happens to them?”

“Not my concern,” Levitov yelled back. “I’ve got bandit gangs coming out my ass. It’s all I can do to hold off the Peckerwoods’ raids.” He left the tent.

I slumped. I was further than ever from finding Darla. Tomorrow I’d get shipped to some other godforsaken camp. Something was in my eyes, making them water, but I couldn’t rub them with my hands cuffed behind my back.

Ben’s voice cut through my morose thoughts. He yelled after Levitov, “I know how you can get rid of the Peckerwoods completely.”

Chapter 71

Levitov reappeared in the doorway to the maintenance tent. “How? You’ve got thirty seconds.”

Ben replied, “They’re based in Anamosa—”

“I know that.” Levitov sounded a

Ben didn’t pick up on it, just kept right on talking. “The Sister Unit and I were at the old prison.”

“It’s a limestone fortress.”

“It is vulnerable because it is set up like a prison,” Ben said. “The electronic systems are all offline, but the manual emergency lockdowns should still work. There are fewer than 150 of the original prisoners still there. The rest have left or been killed. A small force, attacking at the right time, could take control of the manual lockdowns. Then you could lock the Peckerwoods out of their own armory and split up the forces that bunk in each wing. Once they’re isolated, you can clear the area via force or leave them there to starve.”

“Not the most humane plan,” Mom murmured.

Alyssa glared at Mom. “Not half as bad as they deserve!”

Colonel Levitov strode back into the tent and crouched in front of Ben, who was staring at his own shoes. “Do you know how to operate the emergency lockdowns? You know where they are? Can you draw us a map?”

“Yes, I can map most of the prison. I did not see it all.”

“Cut him loose,” Levitov ordered.

“Um, Ben?” Alyssa said.

“Cut the Sister Unit free, too,” Ben said.

“Ben!” Alyssa whispered. “All of them.”

“Yes,” Ben said, “Ben will help you if you let all of Ben’s friends go free.”

“That’s almost as good as transferring us to another camp,” I said. “You can report that we escaped.”

“I’m not allowing any of you to go anywhere until I’ve verified the intelligence you’re supplying.”

I had to go on the raid. Darla was in Anamosa. Or she had been a few days ago when Alyssa last saw her. “Fine. Take us all when you attack the Peckerwoods. That way if anything comes up, Ben’ll be handy. When you’re done kicking the Peckerwoods’ butts, you let us go.”

“Five noncombatants in the middle of a firefight? Forget it.”

“Ben can’t go by himself,” Alyssa said.

“I could, in fact, go by myself, Sister Unit.”

“Take us all. You can leave us outside or locked in a truck or something while you fight. We won’t be in the way.”

Colonel Levitov nodded slowly. “Deal. Captain Billson!” he yelled. “Escort these five to the infirmary. Put them in the empty bunks with a twenty-four-hour guard, three-man detail.”

One of the camo-clad guards yelled “Sir!” as Colonel Levitov pivoted and disappeared. They cut the cuffs off our wrists and marched us into the abandoned WalMart. It was subdivided into hallways and rooms with canvas walls. After a couple of twists and turns, we arrived at a small room into which a dozen cots had been packed.

It was easily the most luxurious sleeping arrangement I’d seen since I left Worthington. One of the grunts even brought us two pails of water—one to wash up in and one to drink from. We huddled together and talked over what we’d learned from Colonel Levitov, trying to keep our voices low enough that the three guards just outside the doorway couldn’t hear us.