GENERAL DUMONT: Then start by getting rid of Wainwright, the Wainwright Act, and the camps.

PRESIDENT PITT: (laughs lightly) Is that all?

GENERAL DUMONT: It’s a start. We’ll talk about restitution once that happens.

TWENTY-TWO

NEWS THAT A GROUP WILL BE GOING OUT FOR SUPPLIES next week lifts spirits. It might be that everyone is simply tired of eating spaghetti and looks forward to getting some new staples. More than likely, it’s just the promise of getting back to normal again. A return to routine. The lockdown frightened everyone and put them on edge and everyone only wants things to go back to the way they were before. When there was at least an illusion of safety.

Days pass as Terrence stands watch as agreed, but so far no one has attempted to leave the compound. We see him in the mornings at breakfast, after his watch each night. We don’t expect anyone to slip away during the day when they can be observed leaving. It’s disappointing. Especially for Caden. These people, this compound. He sees them all as his responsibility.

Some nights, the worry and anxiety get to him, and I have to convince him not to leave our cell and go check on Terrence himself. He listens to me. Mostly he doesn’t want to risk the traitor catching him patrolling the halls. And because he enjoys my methods of distraction. Kissing him has become as natural and necessary as breathing.

There’s still that clock ticking in my mind, warning me that this could all be gone, vanishing in an instant. So maybe I’m selfish and I want to distract him. For me. I want his full attention for myself.

All I know is that we barely step inside the room after dinner every night before we’re in each other’s arms. We kiss until I can’t feel my lips. Wild and desperate, soul-consuming kisses. We keep our clothes on, because we know taking them off means more. Everything. I haven’t pushed to go further. Not since our first night together. He wants to take things slow to prove to me that we have all the time in the world. I still don’t know if I agree with that, but I’m not spending time arguing the point. Not when we could be kissing.

“Do you ever think of leaving? Finding someplace else far away?” I whisper this question. Snuggled in the dark beside him, the scent of his warm skin is a heady thing. This holding each other has come to mean nearly as much as everything else. More than the kissing. Talking, listening, connecting with another soul . . . being together.

“And go where?” His voice rumbles beneath my ear. I trace patterns on his skin.

“I don’t know. Away. Mexico. One of the refuges or someplace else. Anywhere.”

“Where can we hide?” His hand strokes my neck, raising goose bumps on my flesh. “We have this.” His thumb rubs where I know the H marks my flesh. “Kind of makes hiding impossible.”

“I don’t know. A cottage up on some mountaintop maybe?”

“Oh. A little hermit’s hut? Would you be there with me?” There’s a smile in his voice as he continues stroking my neck.

“Maybe,” I tease. He likes it when I do that. He likes me playful. He likes my smiles. And I like me this way, too. I’ve missed it. I thought I lost this side of me with everything else.

He rolls me on my back and pins my wrists beside my head. His eyes gleam darkly at me in the shadows of the room. “I think I could be convinced to go almost anywhere with you, Davy.” And then he kisses me long and deep until my toes curl.

Maybe not everything is lost.

On the fifth morning, Terrence doesn’t show up at breakfast after his nightly watch. Caden and I get our food and sit down with Junie. I watch Caden play with his meal, flipping his toast over and over in his long fingers, his cheek feathering with tension. After several more minutes, he finally stands. “Wait here.”

Junie looks up, appearing annoyed at the interruption to her story of how she broke the nose of a boy twice her size when he decided he wanted to take on a carrier.

I grab his hand and mouth the words to him, I’m going with you.

With a curt nod, he leads the way. We check Terrence’s room first. Then Caden checks the showers. We search everywhere, all the while trying not to look as though we’re hunting for anything in particular.

After we’ve searched every possible inch of the compound, Caden’s gaze drifts up to the stairs that lead aboveground. There’s only one place left to look. Caden starts up the stairs. I follow, feeling everyone’s curious gazes on us as we ascend.

Caden’s worried for his friend enough to draw the attention of the others, including the traitor, to us. He races over the iron grate, swinging right into the tunnel. His tread clangs loudly, shaking the floor under us. His shape disappears as the tunnel darkens. I follow, my hands stretched out in front of me as I run blindly after him.

The faint blue glow alerts me to the chamber ahead. He reaches it first.

His cry of anguish echoes down the tunnel. When I catch up, he’s on his knees, his body a darker shadow in the gloom. My blood runs hot and cold all at once. He crouches over something I can’t quite identify that’s spread out on the floor before him. A big shape. Big as a man. I gulp a breath, my heart thumping hard.

“Cade . . .” My voice is so soft. Like I’m afraid to give any real power to it. Afraid of the response I’ll hear.

I shuffle numbly on my feet and peer over his shoulder, seeing for myself what the sick churning inside me already knows.

Caden makes no sound beyond that initial cry. He gathers Terrence close, lifting the big man in his arms like he’s a child. I set my shaking hand to his shoulder and move closer. Which only permits me to see better. A sob strangles me, hot as tar rising up my windpipe.