Every Missing Piece

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mercy was true to her word about leaving as soon as possible. Before I had a moment to second-guess myself and clutter my mind with doubts, she rushed us through preparations and directed Mason and I to the doorway to the Desperate camp. Even now, Mercy still wears her scowl.

"Are you sure this is all we need?" I ask, gesturing to the three of us. We're wearing the warmest coats and sweaters that the Desperates have to offer, which means that they're still much thinner than most. Each of us also has a pack filled with just the bare necessities, all scrounged from the Desperates' scarce supplies. There's a flashlight, matches and flint, and a small package Mercy warned us not to touch. I'd guess it's some kind of explosive.

There's also a knife that I carefully wrapped in a leftover strip of gauze and buried in the very bottom of my pack. Mercy tsked when she saw where I was storing it, but I still haven't told her about the knife in my boot, and if Mason has ever wondered just how I was able to escape my cell at the headquarters, he's never said anything.

Yes, I'm praying I won't have to use the knife, but I will do anything for my sister.

"Is this all we need?" Mercy mimics with a sneer. "What more do you think we need? It's not like we're going camping. We need to be inconspicuous."

I meet Mason's eyes and he shrugs one shoulder, as if to say, "What's the point in arguing?" The point is that I'm right. True, we want to be inconspicuous, but I've seen for myself how hard it is to break out of the headquarters. Not only do we want to do that, but we also want to break into the headquarters first and sidestep any traps that might be waiting for us. Prepared as we are, we look like we're just three people taking a stroll through the city, except it's past curfew and two of us are some of the most wanted people in Gotten.

"Great," Mercy says in response to our silence. "Now, if there are no more questions, let's set this disaster in motion."

Mercy shoulders her pack, but out of the corner of my eye, I see some commotion in the very back of the small crowd of Desperates that has gathered to see us off. "Wait!" someone shouts.

Mercy spins around, and she must have spotted the person causing the disturbance, because in an instant, her frown morphs into a look of sneering disgust. "You've got to be kidding me," she mutters.

I look over my shoulder to see what Mercy's looking at, and I find Jack pushing to the front of the Desperates with his good arm. He looks as winded as if he'd just sprinted from here to the headquarters, though I know he likely only walked here from the Desperates' makeshift infirmary. "Wait," he says again, like we somehow missed it the first time.

"You're not coming with us, if that's what you were going to ask."

Jack shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I just wanted to talk to Carra for a minute," he says, and Mercy throws her arms up in the air in defeat.

"Be my guest! What's a little more wasted time on account of Carra to me, anyway?"

It's no surprise that Mercy's annoyed at me, but what she doesn't realize is that I don't want to talk to Jack either, no matter the circumstances. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not alone, and certainly not in front of a small crowd of Desperates that I know are eagerly watching us. No one asks me what I want, though, and I can't think of anything to say for myself before Jack guides me away a few yards and around a corner. At least this way we can lie to ourselves about our privacy.

Whenever I look at Jack, I still feel a slight tug, like the echo of an ache that should have gone away a long time ago. I'm not sure if this feeling is guilt, embarrassment, or something else entirely, but that doesn't matter. Since he's joined the Desperates, I've tried my best to avoid looking at him at all. There are new shadows on his face that aren't present only because we are underground.