Uninvited

I jerk at the sound of Gil’s and Sean’s names and then quickly try to cover my reaction. Stare straight ahead, pretending that I’m unaffected to learn that I’ll be on a team with six or seven other carriers who aren’t Sean. Aren’t Gil. Not even Sabine, I realize as names for the red team are announced. With a glance full of regret, Sabine moves to join her group.

It soon becomes apparent there is only one girl for every team.

“Green team: Hong, Miller, Lionetti, Hamilton, Ramiro, Knolls, and Hauser. Step up.”

My legs walk a steady line to join my group. Tully’s on my team, his face gruesomely bruised and swollen from yesterday. That can’t feel good. He avoids looking at me. I haven’t had any dealings with my other teammates, and I’ll take that as a positive. We wait until the last team is announced. The packs sitting on the table are handed to us according to colored stripes.

“You will have however long it takes to capture and return the target.” Harris waves an arm and suddenly there is a new arrival in our midst. A guard leads a man forward. He’s nondescript, wearing workout clothes similar to our own. Only I’ve never seen him before. This guy is in his late twenties, his fierce, alert eyes at odds with his bland expression.

“Our volunteer here served in the Marines not too long ago. He should prove quite the challenge for you.”

The volunteer scans us all, and I get the impression that he’s memorizing and categorizing us in that one glance.

Harris claps him on the shoulder amiably. “Go ahead. You’ve already been briefed on the local geography. We’ll give you a five-minute lead.”

The volunteer takes off, practically a blur as he vanishes in the trees, and I know we shouldn’t underestimate him.

Dusty continues, “There is a GPS inside your pack along with a few other essentials. Your team may attempt to track the target however you see fit. I don’t need to remind you that your performance is being evaluated. Should your team successfully return the target, you shall be rewarded. You have five minutes to discuss and devise your plan, starting now.”

I turn to face the six other members of my team.

“We should split up,” a caramel-skinned boy announces. I think his name is Ty. He’s fast—usually runs at the front of the pack in the mornings.

“And go after him individually? That defeats the purpose of a team exercise,” Felix remarks. I’ve seen him walking with Gil into the computer lab for independent study and I’m pretty sure he’s another tech whiz. Whatever the case, he can’t be that bad if Gil voluntarily talks to him.

“No, not individually,” Ty says. “But we should split into pairs . . . increase our odds of finding him. I’ll go with Tully here.”

Nodding, the remaining four boys pair up. I shift uncomfortably on my feet, waiting to be noticed. They’re too busy rifling through their packs now, assessing supplies.

“Flashlight, pocketknife, some rope. Oh, look. A GPS. The school and perimeter walls are already plugged in. This is good.” Felix starts punching buttons on the device. “We’ll divide the area into three sections—one for each of us.”

Still, no one has claimed me as part of their pair. I’m not part of the plan. Annoyed, I start to speak up, but the words fade at the sound of several shouts and excited whoops.

We all look up as two teams take off into the woods like kids released from recess. They tear off like hounds on a trail. Only they look scattered and unorganized. A few of the kids run at a sprint, their expressions feral, wild. They haven’t even thoroughly investigated their packs yet. A few are even left on the ground, forgotten.

“Idiots,” Felix mutters before looking back at us. Nodding, he announces confidently, “We got this.”

“What about her?” Ty asks, nodding at me. Finally. They remember my existence.

The six of them stare at me like they don’t know quite what to do with me. In their eyes, I’m just a useless girl. My performance with Tully yesterday probably didn’t help in that regard, either.

“Leave her,” the jerk himself grumbles.

“She can come with me and Richard.” Felix’s gaze steadies on me. “Just keep up. And do what I say.”

My lips compress. I grab my pack and sling it over my shoulder. Nothing I can say will prove that I’m an asset. I’ll just have to show them. “Let’s go.”

We set out at a steady pace. Before I dive into the trees, I pause and look out across the quad, searching for the blue team. My gaze lands on them. They’re heading in the opposite direction. Sean follows at the rear, his face turned in my direction, and I know he’s kept a bead on me this whole time.

I drag a breath deep into my lungs, wishing I could close the distance between us. Wishing we were on the same team. Stupid, I know, that I can still wish for anything in a world, a life, I’ve ceased to hold any control over. I should know better than to wish for anything anymore.

He nods at me once, his gaze sharp, the smoky blue bright and penetrating with a message I’ve heard from him time and again: Watch your back.

Turning, he disappears with the rest of his team, leaving me with mine.

Thankfully, Felix and Richard don’t break into a sprint and I’m able to keep up with them. Or maybe I’m just faster than I was a week ago. I can only have gotten better, faster, stronger. At least I tell myself this, determined to keep up and prove myself. If it kills me, I will. I’ll show them I’m not someone to be overlooked.

Felix moves with one eye on the GPS. We hear shouting in the distance, other carriers acting like morons, crashing around like a herd of elephants in the deepening night. With all that racket, the target will easily evade them. I motion for us to move away from the worst of the noise. Felix nods, agreeing. When Richard starts to speak, Felix punches him in the arm and motions for him to shut up. Apparently, we’re on the same page regarding the need for stealth. The quieter we are, the better our chances.

Leaves rustle nearby and we still.

Richard brandishes his pocketknife, twirling it in his fingers. He’s one of the youngest of us here. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, but he holds the knife with such ease, like it’s an extension of his arm.

The blade glints in the moonlight and I wonder why the weapons were even put in our packs to begin with. A bunch of armed carriers doesn’t strike me as such a great idea.

Initially, I assumed it was a tool, like the flashlight and rope . . . something we might need to use out here in the woods. Now I don’t know. Are we expected to use it on the target?

On each other?

A knot of unease settles into the pit of my stomach as I walk one pace behind the two boys, scanning the press of foliage around us. Knowing we’re not alone out here, the sudden hush is eerie. My skin prickles. Moving as quietly as possible, I slide my pack around and remove my knife, palming the slight weight of it.

Something snaps to our left, and branches rustle again. This time louder. We form a wall and face the direction of the sound.

Three bodies burst through the undergrowth. My stomach lurches at finding myself face-to-face with Zoe and two other boys from her team. In the moonlight, her green eyes are as wild as ever. Of course, they’re armed with their knives. At the sight of me, she lifts hers in a menacing manner.

Felix holds up his hands. “Hey.” His voice is calm, placating. “Easy, there.”

“This is our area,” Zoe hisses, lifting her chin and shaking back her bright red hair as though she wants to make sure he sees her imprint. “Move on.”

Richard snorts. “I didn’t see a sign.”

Zoe’s eyes flash. “Keep moving, runt.” She motions an arm behind them, to the area they already covered.

“How generous,” I mutter, moving past them, Felix and Richard following.

We continue to walk, stepping stealthily, but we’re still too loud. Our boots crack over leaves and twigs. The whoops are few and distant now. Maybe the others have finally figured they have to try for stealth to capture the target.

Richard steps on a branch and it cracks loudly on the air. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I place a hand on his arm, stopping him. Felix turns, silent question in his eyes.

Bending, I unlace my boots and slip them off, leaving my feet clad only in socks. Soundlessly, I tuck my shoes inside my backpack. Felix’s eyes gleam in approval and he and Richard follow suit. On the move again, our steps tread silently. Everything around us is quiet. Too quiet, and I wonder at that. The crickets aren’t even talking anymore.

Somehow, I end up leading the way. Wincing at a sharp rock beneath my foot, I step behind a small copse. Squatting, I motion the boys down low to the ground with me, figuring we have better odds lying in wait and seeing who makes an appearance.

For several minutes, nothing happens. Clouds drift over the moon, plunging us into heavy gloom. We wait, draped in darkness, silence pulsing all around us.

The clouds part suddenly and the moon breaks cover. Once again, a dim glow suffuses the forest. I spot movement ahead. A shadowy shape drops low into some shrubbery, obviously trying to stay clear of the moonlight. I nudge Felix. He nods, seeing the figure, too.

I don’t breathe, waiting for him to make a move again . . . for his sense of security to return. For him to think that he’s safe. That no one watches him.

Just as I begin to doubt whether he’s even still there, he rises. My chest lifts high on an excited breath. My pulse hammers fiercely against my throat.

Our target hunkers lows, inching toward the west. A quick glance at the GPS in Felix’s hand reveals that the perimeter wall is closest in that direction. He’s headed that way, of course. If he gets over the wall, he’s free. He wins.

Richard starts to move, but I stall him with a hand on his arm. Shaking my head, I try to convey that he needs to wait until he comes closer. Watching the dark outline, I carefully remove the rope from my pack. I face forward again and peer through the branches. I hold my hand up, ready to give the signal.

The man moves stealthily, obviously an expert at moving undetected. When he’s as close as he’s going to get, about six feet across from us, I drop my hand. We tear through our copse of trees.

I see a flash of his startled face the second before he turns to run. Richard is fast, tackling him to the ground with a loud grunt.

They struggle. The target stuns Richard with a solid blow to the face that sends Richard into a rage. Like some trigger has been pulled, he starts hitting him wildly. The target tucks himself into a tight ball, his hands shielding his head, pleading, his words gibberish.

“Richard, stop.” I pull the gasping boy back. Richard glares down at him, his look murderous. Easily evidence of his HTS—or that his being here, training with a bunch of older, rougher kids, is making an impression. If you don’t have any violent tendencies, chances are you’ll definitely leave here fully conditioned with them.

“It’s just a game,” I remind him in what I hope is a soothing voice.

Felix snatches the rope from my hands and works quickly to bind the target’s arms. He wraps his upper body in the rope, trapping his arms at his sides and leaving a couple feet of rope for us to lead the prisoner—like a leash.

“C’mon.” Felix rises and tugs him to his feet. “The sooner we get back to camp, the sooner—”

He never finishes his sentence. Another team bursts through the trees and forms a tight circle around us.

My skin pulls, awash with a thousand needle pricks as Jackson steps to the front of three others, two boys and Addy. A slow smile curls his lips. “And you even gift wrapped him for us. How thoughtful.”

Richard steps in front of the target. “He’s ours.”

Jackson turns his smile on Richard and tries to ruffle his hair. The kid knocks his hand away. “Nice try, but sorry. We’re taking him.”