I won’t let him walk away from me a third time. Even if nothing comes of it in the long run, I’m risking my life out here. I should be throwing myself at him, not worrying about whether or not we can get married before we’ve even hooked up properly.
All my plans for the future go sideways anyway. I need to embrace uncertainty. Go with the flow, right?
#
We make it to the southern ridge by evening. Orisa’s gait slows us down, but she’s determined.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” I lower the binoculars. Red sunset glints off the churning ocean waters. A light breeze tugs at my braid. Birds call out in harsh tones overhead. That’s not what has me cursing. It’s the cluster of small boats unloading boxes onto the small atolls that make getting into Oceanside so dangerous for large ships.
Two are visible in the distance. The small boats are making trips back and forth. The atolls are exposed to the elements. A single storm would ruin their goods. There’s no fresh water, no food, and sharks in the water. The invaders may have adjusted to our raids by moving operations offshore, but it’s not a permanent solution.
“They can’t last out there for long.”
“No. But it gives them better control of when they land their supplies.” I rock back from a squat onto my haunches to sit cross-legged on the warm stone. “It also prevents our spy network from getting timely information to us.”
“We had a good run of it,” Ephram grunts. He’s having some trouble adjusting to the lack of depth perception. He can’t fight as effectively as he did before, but his organizational skills are top-notch. He keeps peace in the increasingly close quarters of our sprawling resistance encampment, acting as a cross between mayor and sheriff.
Better him than me. I’ve got my hands full. We should be moving north by now. We should be breaking up the camp. But he’s resistant, and I’ve hesitated to override his authority. I’m not the princess of Oceanside, after all. I’m just here to help out in Zosia’s absence.
“What do you think that big vehicle is?” Luza gestures to the bare rock where the pirates are unloading a boat anchored near shore. Three strong men push a clunky-looking vehicle with two seats and big, thick tires but no top, up a makeshift gangplank. “Ever seen one like it?”
“No.” I study the flurry of activity below, mind spinning with possibilities, none of them good. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I set down my stolen binoculars—one lens had a hairline crack but they were still usable—and used my satellite phone to search for “small car” and “topless car.” I get convertibles and weird-looking three-wheeled cars that don’t look legal to drive. Nothing looked remotely similar.
“Hey. Raina.” Orisa pokes me with her elbow. “Look.”
This time, the pirates were mounting a machine gun to the front of the vehicle. “That looks bad, doesn’t it?”
“Really bad.”
I zoom in as far as the camera can go and snap a picture. When I upload it and do an image search, the answer comes back immediately: anAll-Terrain Vehicle, or ATV.
“Oh, fuck.” Come to think of it, I had seen something like it—in one of Bashir’s friends’ video games. I was stoned when I saw it, so forgive my momentary lapse. I don’t miss pot. That second year, I mostly used it to dull the pain of knowing Lorcan was finally making headway with Zosia, and that I was losing him.
Never had him in the first place, if I’m honest.
I shook that thought away, holding up my phone.
“Ephram. Look.”
“What in Auralia’s golden garters is that?” He squints with his one good eye. Orisa snorts.
“An all-terrain vehicle mounted with machine guns. It can hold more cargo than a dirt bike, and manage rough terrain almost as well. Possibly better. I’ve never seen one used before. I think they’re planning to attack our encampment.”
I’ve suspected an attack was forthcoming ever since the bridge. I’m wasn’t sure why it’s taken so long. Now we know: they were waiting for better equipment to arrive.
Which means that time isn’t on our side.
The four of us roll away from the ledge and stand up, staring at one another with solemn expressions.
“Stands to reason. We’ve all but halted their supply lines. They were bound to hit back at us eventually.”
“How did they know where we’re hiding? We’ve been so careful!”
“We have spies,” Luza says with neutrality that belies the fury in her eyes. “So do the pirates.”
“Luza, the invaders won’t hesitate to harm children.” Orisa gestures to her ankle. The source of her limp was a metal shackle locked too tightly around her leg, which damaged the tendon beneath. The injury is permanent; she’s lucky she didn’t lose the foot itself. “If they threatened one of the runners to tell them where our hideout is, we can’t hold the boy or girl responsible.”
