As I positioned the small vessel in the center of the flames, something caught my eye. I grabbed a stick and moved the ashes around. There, melted to a nub, the platform warped enough to curl, was the plastic army man I’d left with Mitch.

“Fuuuck,” I sighed. Well, so much for that. I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket anyway. Now it was a reminder of the second time I saw my brother for the last time.

When the water was bubbling, I went to the shelter to wake Agent Dusome.

CHAPTER 27

REUNION, PART TWO

French

THEY WERE JUST UP AHEAD. THERE WAS NO COLOR, NO movement, no sound to betray them. Only the intelligence we’d been given by the school and the feeling in my gut, the incredible pull, the urge to rush ahead. This was exactly what they’d been talking about—the danger of having people, how connections could be ruinous in these times. They made you want to do stupid things like run through the bush, throw away a month of preparation, face deadly consequences because of nothing more than a feeling.

We’d walked all morning in silence. I didn’t mention the army man in the fire, and neither did Mitch. The silver lining of his quiet was that I didn’t have to hear about how he was hungry or tired. I also didn’t have to hear any more plans for his first day as Supervising Agent. But even in that silence, I knew something had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on what, exactly, and I hoped beyond reason that the pendulum in Mitch’s brain was swingingback in my direction.

I stepped over a small hill roiling with ants—they seemed to form alliances in these times—and paused. There were no more birds, just the soft thrum and scuttle of insects burrowing and alighting on dense moss and curated sand. It was like the sound of velvet being folded.

“They’re here.”

I knew it as fact. They were close. They were watching. I had never felt more like a prisoner than I did at that moment, knowing that I was here under false pretenses, that I had few to no choices, that I was going to have to make one soon, and that either way, someone was going to pay a huge price.

Reel it back. Reel it in, I told myself, literally imagining my heart at the end of a fishing line I was gathering up.

“Okay.” Mitch did some jumping jacks like he was getting ready for a race, and maybe he was; it was just that we had different ideas about what was at the finish line. “You ready?”

“Yup.” I couldn’t say more. Opening my mouth to let out more words meant running the risk of revealing that we weren’t on the same page right now, never had been.

We walked on, slowly now. I knew we had to be a bit louder than usual to be certain they would “find us.” I didn’t want to surprise anyone and end up with one of Wab’s arrows in my neck. It wasn’t hard; Mitch was snapping branches and sliding around in the mud-soaked peat like a real amateur.