I accepted the bulging bag with a grateful smile. “I’m glad to see you here with us, Jay.” Jay flushed, a dark red spreading across his cheeks. I patted his back and handed the bag to Violet. “Any chance any of the other boys being with us?” I asked hopefully.
Jay’s embarrassment turned into deep sadness, and my heart ached for him. It was clear from his reaction that they had all chosen Desmond, not me, and my heart constricted again in pain thinking about the boys and how they saw me now. It made me beyond angry that they were yet again being used for someone else’s aim.
Jay had taken a step back from me, his eyes wide in alarm, and I realized that my feelings regarding the situation were currently on my face. Sighing, I squatted down, bringing myself lower than him to make him feel more secure. “I’m sorry, Jay—I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at Desmond for using the boys like this.”
Jay nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. “My mom isn’t a good person,” he whispered, and I felt my chest tighten further. No child should have to feel that way about his mother.
“Come here,” I said softly, holding an arm out to him. He stepped closer and I pulled him in for a hug. I rubbed his back as I felt him shake a little bit, tears falling from his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Jay. I promise.” It was the only solace I could offer to the boy, but it was one I meant. I didn’t know how yet, but I was going to make it right for him. I was going to do more than that—I was going to protect him.
Violet let out a gasp and I reluctantly let go of Jay and turned toward her. Violet had been busy during my chat with Jay. All the items from the bag were laid out in an orderly fashion. Jay had done well—he had grabbed three pistols with several magazines of ammunition and two boxes of ammo. He had also grabbed five of the aerosol canisters that helped keep the vicious creatures of The Green at bay, as well as several tins of food, a few pieces of fresh fruit, two lightweight blankets, a knife, three flashlights, a compass, and three canteens.
Yet Violet’s attention was completely on the two identical silver cases sitting in front of her, gleaming in the muted light. “How did you know to grab these?” she whispered, her eyes coming up to stare at Jay.
Jay looked up at Tim, who flushed and ran a hand over his hair. “I told him—they’re important.”
She stood up, her brows drawn together. “But how did you know to grab the one in the cabinet?” she asked, taking a step closer.
Tim shrugged. “You’re sneaky. Also… don’t like Desmond. No egg for her.”
Violet grinned and kissed her brother on the cheek. “You did really good, baby brother,” she announced with a smile. “And you, Jay.” She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I just want you to know how brave I think you are. And I want to thank you for believing in us.”
Jay blushed again, but beamed at her, his eyes glowing from her praise. Licking his lips, he tentatively wrapped his arms around her neck in a hug and she returned it warmly. The entire exchange was touching, but I could feel time marching merrily forward without us.
We needed to get going.
“We should keep moving,” Jay said, echoing my thoughts, as he took a step back. He looked over his shoulder, back the way he had come. “I spent some time laying a few false trails, but it won’t buy us a lot of time… Maybe an hour or two at the most.”
“I agree,” I said. “Everyone drink some water, but not too much—you don’t want it sloshing around in your belly while you run. Once we’re finished, we’ll begin moving again. Violet, help me repack the bag. The three of us will take turns carrying it.” I looked at Ms. Dale, who nodded at me, her face reflecting her tension and eagerness to continue our journey.
“The five of us,” contradicted Tim, his voice and stance carrying a stubbornness that I was beginning to recognize as a trait in the Bates family.
I smiled and nodded. “All right—the five of us,” I agreed. I handed the water bottles out to Ms. Dale, Tim, and Jay, allowing them an opportunity to drink first as Violet and I repacked the bag. Within minutes, we were running again.
We had packed the bag well—the contents weren’t shifting around or bouncing against my back as I moved, which was a bonus. While I ran, I turned my mind toward Desmond’s plan and the implications it might have on our world if she succeeded.
Who knew what Desmond’s political aims really were? She had only been clear on what she didn’t like—how could someone so tyrannical and cold-blooded be different than the regime before? I didn’t think it was possible or likely that much would change—instead I feared things would get worse in her grab for power. After all, if she was willing to use her own sons to carry out her dirty work, who knew what she would be willing to do to maintain power.