Deception

Chapter Thirty LOGAN

I sit on the bench in the medical wagon, holding the canvas flap out of the way so that I can watch the smoke-drenched ruins disappear in our wake. There’s no sign of the Commander and his army, though Thom and Frankie said they saw significant movement on the bluff as they were lighting the fire.

If we’re lucky, by the time the Commander and his troops get around the blaze, we’ll be well off the main path to Lankenshire, our trail will be hidden, and he won’t be able to find us.

Just in case we aren’t lucky, I’ve been busy trying to think of every worst case scenario and at least two solutions to each. The constant throbbing pain in my head that multiplies with every bump of the wagon wheels makes thinking clearly almost impossible. When we hit another bump, I let go of the canvas flap and grab my aching head instead.

Rachel, who sits opposite me where she can watch for signs of the army’s pursuit, huffs out a little breath and says, “We’re clear of the city now. No one is following us. Either let Sylph treat you, or I’ll do it myself.” The worry in her voice softens the sharpness of her words.

I make myself smile at her, and then turn to Sylph, who sits with Smithson beside an open crate of medical supplies.

“Open your mouth, please,” Sylph says. I obey her and grimace as she sprinkles a pinch of bitter white powder onto my tongue. “There. That should help the headache. Now let’s take a look at this cut.”

Sylph’s fingers are much gentler than Rachel’s. She treats my cut like a new friend she’s just getting to know while Rachel treats wounds like challenges that must be overcome through sheer strength and tenacity. Still, even with Sylph’s gentleness, brilliant shards of pain jab at my skull like they’re trying to drill through the bone.

I sit still while she pats antiseptic on the wound and carefully cuts a small strip of bandage to protect the area from germs. Smithson moves to the bench opposite me, his eyes constantly seeking his wife like he’s afraid if he turns his back she might disappear.

I know the feeling—my eyes are trained on Rachel as she crouches by the wagon’s entrance watching the road. She’s already left me once to tell Drake to write down the names of everyone in a marked room. As soon as I’m finished in here, she’ll resume guard duty along the western flank, and I’ll take my place in the lead. After that, we’ll be focused on staying ahead of the Commander, keeping our people safe from the predatory elements in the Wasteland, and catching whoever left the message in our room last night.

My hand reaches for the gray metallic object that pinned today’s message to our floor, and I worry its smooth surface with my fingers as I pull it from my pocket.

I don’t want to let Rachel out of my sight, not when I know one of our own has betrayed us, but of everyone in camp, she’s one of the most capable of handling herself against a killer.

Besides, the coward only attacks at night.

“It’s a shallow cut. No stitches required. You were lucky,” Sylph says.

“I would’ve stitched him up last night if he’d needed it,” Rachel says.

Sylph’s smile is quick and bright. “I’d have given half a day’s food ration to see that.”

Rachel sounds offended. “I can stitch up a cut. I sat through the same Basic Medical class in Life Skills as you did.”

“Yes, but I paid attention.” Sylph’s voice is warm. “You spent every minute in Life Skills pretending you were somewhere else.”

“Well, maybe if they’d taught us something worth knowing instead of wasting our time with how to sew a pretty dress or set a fancy table, I would’ve had more incentive. Besides, I did well in Basic Medical.”

“Mr. Phillips said you had the worst bedside manner he’d ever seen.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I just have a low tolerance for whining.”

I laugh, and the pain in my head is nothing but a faint twinge now. The powder has done its job.

“I can put more salve on this if you’d like. Maybe it won’t scar quite so . . . badly.” Sylph’s cool fingers brush lightly against my neck, tracing the edges of the brand the Commander burned into my skin while I was at his mercy in the dungeon. It’s still healing, and the new skin feels tight and itchy.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing you can do to make it look like anything less than the Commander’s Brute Squad insignia,” I say. And because both Sylph and Smithson look uncomfortable, I laugh a little. “Is it really that bad? Do I need to wear a scarf for life?”

Smithson’s brown eyes meet mine for a long moment. “It’s a good reminder of why we follow you instead of him.”

Now I’m the one who’s uncomfortable. I look at my hands, and wait quietly for Sylph to finish checking the burn.

She pats my shoulder. “All done. Do you want some pain medicine to keep with you in case the headache comes back, or do you want to find the medical wagon when you need more?”

“I’ll take some with me.”

She measures a few pinches of powder into a pouch and hands it to me.

“Thank you,” I say, and capture her gaze with mine. Once upon a time, she was the talkative, energetic girl whose heart was big enough to love Rachel, sharp edges and all, even when she could never fully understand the inner chambers of Rachel’s spirit. Now grief and loss have carved away the innocence and left wisdom in its place. I’m grateful that the size of her heart remains unchanged.

She smiles, her green eyes lighting with true pleasure. “You’re welcome. You’ve done so much for us. It’s nice to be able to do something for you.”

I don’t know what to do with her words, so I smile a little and head toward the wagon’s exit. Time to get us off the main road to Lankenshire.

Best Case Scenario: I continue to elude the Commander, get our people to safety, and catch the killer before the body count rises.

Worst Case Scenario: I fail.

I step out of the wagon as the path dips down between two chunks of moss-covered stone. I don’t know if I can catch the killer. I don’t know if I can keep everyone alive as we travel through the Wasteland. And I don’t know if I can convince Lankenshire to form an alliance with us.

But I do know that I’m prepared to lay my life on the line to make it happen. These people may have ignored me or mistreated me when we were all living in fear of the Commander’s vicious reprisals, but now they look at me with respect and trust. I refuse to be unworthy of either.