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VALE

This job my father has given us is crazy. Just to go to a party at the Brotherhood is dangerous enough. If they want to start something with me, we’ll be swamped with Brothers. In my mind I see me and Ami, surrounded by dozens of Brotherhood men.

Going there could be a trap, and my father wants me to steal from them. The stuff he said in front of Ami was vague and not helpful, so I’m going to get the answers now.

Where exactly is this laptop in their compound?

Finding and stealing are two different tasks, so unless my father has a location for us, I’m not going to be searching their compound top to bottom.

The Brotherhood will keep an eagle eye on me.

And Ami? She’s gorgeous, and confident. She’s bound to attract attention.

A wiggle of discomfort nags at me. If what we’re doing up here, in Anchorage, is the right thing, why do the women look so different from Ami?

So scared all the time? Memories of my mom, faded a little, hit me.

My mom was intelligent, tall and strong, a military veteran.

My father used to say she was the best of the best. I never saw her shrink back or cower.

My whole life is spent around men now. It seems natural up here for men to be in charge—we’re the ones always working and planning.

I’m not sure what women do anyway, raise children, watch the babies. They help with the cooking. They’re not out there risking their necks or training with the men. But maybe they would if they had the chance? I shake my head. I’m not sure what to think.

Standing, I reach to grab my hat from the hook but it’s not there. Oh yeah, I gave my hat to Ami.

I’m thinking about her again. I stare out the window into the wide parking lot in front of the Forge, but I’m seeing Ami in her swimsuit, thinking about the cut of her arms through the water. I take a deep breath. She could still be a PS spy. I need to stay cool, stay detached.

It’s dangerous, how she distracts me.

I text my father and he answers to come to his room.

I head down the stairs. My father’s room is all the way in the basement, in the old storage rooms. It’s a smart place for a leader.

Not out on top, not the fanciest, but down here, hidden, hard to find.

The corridor is dark with lights that need to be replaced, but he likes it that way.

I knock on his door, which has Employees Only stenciled on the front.

It jerks open and he stands in the doorway. I scan the room quickly. He’s alone.

He sees me do it. My father doesn’t miss anything.

“Just us,” he says. “I need to tell you something. ”

Interested, I look up. It’s not always clear when he wants me to answer him, and a long time ago I learned to err on the side of silence.

The room has low ceilings, not much higher than the tops of our heads. There’s a small kitchen, a couch, and rooms behind, a bedroom and bathroom.

“Vale,” he says, taking a seat at the table. I mimic him. Scattered across the surface are papers I recognize, old newspaper clippings with letters from Mikayla Adamson. My mom was a great writer. She used to write to the Baltimore Sun on behalf of MAV all the time.

“I need to tell you something.”

He already said that. I wonder where this is going. Is it about Ami?

“It’s about your mother.” I flinch. My mom died many years ago at Natanz, at the nuclear site there. The PS sacrificed her with no compassion; Ami’s grandmother Selene Bloome sent her there knowing how dangerous it was. She never returned from that last, deadly mission.

“Vale. There is new information we’ve heard. Rumors that your mother might be alive.”

“What? What do you mean?” I ask him. Eight years she’s been gone. They didn’t care that she had a ten-year-old kid. Just ripped her away from her family and sent her to her death.

“It’s information from Western Maryland, from the camps there.”

The camps outside of Frederick? I shudder. It’s where the PS keeps men who have been deemed a threat. Too dangerous to put on the depo trains. They say they emptied the jails when the PS was formed, but really they just shipped men off to camps.

“She’s being held there?” I ask.

“We don’t know. Someone made contact with a prisoner at one of the camps. The prisoner said she’s there. They were sure it was her.” He ducks his head and I see he’s feeling emotional. I’m still in shock.

“How could she be alive this long and we didn’t know?”

“She’s going by another name is what they said: ‘Kayla Davis.’”

“Davis?” I ask.

“It was her name before we married. Her maiden name.”

“Is she a prisoner or is she…” I trail off.

“One of them?” My father grimaces. “We think she’s a prisoner.”

I realize if she’s not a prisoner, if she’s been working for the PS this whole time, it means she left me willingly. Left my father with a kid to take care of and never looked back.

A sudden thought occurs to me. “Do you think she left because I was a boy?”

My father’s face is a mask, but I can see pain behind it. He shakes his head slowly.

“No, Vale. She loved you so much. It didn’t matter to her that you weren’t a girl.”

My eyes sting. I believe him. His eyes shine a little bit, and I wonder if he will cry.

“It wasn’t perfect,” he mutters, “but we were a family together. She believed in us, believed in our future.”

“But she also believed in MAV? Mothers Against Violence? ”

“Of course,” he snaps. “We all did. A new world. A legacy of peace,” he says bitterly.

“The revoking of Rights, it was only supposed to be temporary. Once everyone understood they lived in a world without danger, a world of perfect peace or whatever, we’d all get our Rights back.

But it didn’t happen. Privilege.” He says the word bitterly. “It’s just a way to keep men down.”

His breathing is more ragged now.

“What can we do?” I try to focus him.

His face settles into grim determination. He jerks open a drawer in front of him and pulls out a cylinder.

We both stare at it. In training, we practice with these. It contains a needle, a quick shot to the neck with a drug that knocks you out immediately. We train to avoid them. They are one of the PS’s main weapons for fighting and controlling men. This one looks different.

“Is that real?” I ask.

“Yes, this is PS made and approved,” he says, turning it over, and I see a lot of tiny writing on the other side. He jerks the cap off, holds it against the table. “Press and it should happen in under ten seconds.” Knocking the person unconscious.

“Who’s it for?” I ask.

“It’s for you. Take it. If the girl turns on you, use it on her.”

“And leave her with the Brotherhood?” I ask angrily. I have no intention of doing that.

“Watch her, Vale. If she helps, if she proves trustworthy, then bring her back. Otherwise…”

Otherwise leave her. I shudder. I’m not doing that. I’ll carry her out over my shoulder if I have to .

“The laptop is in their security station on the roof,” he tells me.

On the roof? “How are we going to get onto the roof?” I ask. More importantly, how am I going to get down off the roof and out of their compound—with a laptop and Ami?

“Find a way in, find a way out,” my father snaps. “We need this done before we begin the move.”

“It’s really happening?”

“Yes. We’ve got hundreds of trucks and buses to load up before we go. The information on that laptop is what we need to get into the camps around Frederick, find out for sure about your mother.”

He doesn’t seem sad anymore, only deadly and determined. His hand shakes slightly and he grips the table, pushing the injection device over to me. “Get me that laptop.”

“What’s on it? And what are you going to do about Mom?” I ask him.

He regards me coolly now, not answering right away. I’m definitely the only one who’s allowed to talk to him like this.

“Father, can you just explain the whole thing?” I say in frustration, sensing he’s not telling me everything.

“I’m not putting all my eggs in one basket. You have a role to play, concentrate on that. Go to the party. Watch the girl. Bring me the laptop. We roll out of here by the end of summer.”

“That soon?” I ask.

“We won’t be here another winter,” my father vows. “If this works, we can find your mother. We can be a family again. ”

He’s letting his crazy show through. I want to help my mom, of course.

“But what if she’s working for them?” I ask him.

“Then she’ll pay,” he says quietly and I shiver inside. On the outside I school my face and slip the device into my pocket.

“The girl will need to wear something. Grab some clothes from down the hall.” There’s a cache for extra stuff.

I picture Ami in one of the dresses the women wear around here and cringe a little.

It’s not her, but I know what he means. There’s no way she’ll pass for an innocent girlfriend without a makeover.

I’ll go to her house early tomorrow and we’ll figure this out.

The laptop is stored on the roof. I can’t believe this.