Escape

Chapter Sixteen

I wake up the next morning to the door opening. Or - at least, I think it's morning. I'm pretty sure it is. But I'm not entirely sure. Aaron and I are dragged out into the blinding sun by armed men, and then I can be sure, based on the position of the sun, that it is, in fact, morning. About eight or nine, to be exact. 

We're thrown into a canvas tent, where I'm tied to a chair and Aaron to a pole.

Three men, each with a baton and one with a knife, circle my chair with sneers of men who have ill intent. I've met this kind of sneer with my Slave Guardian in the Camps, and know that remaining impassive is my best bet at not being beaten or stabbed to death. Dunno about anyone else, but I'd like to remain living, thank you very much.

The troubled expression on Aaron's face, especially because he's not being harmed at the moment, tells me that he understands what they have in store for me as much as I do.

"Listen, bitch," the one with the knife growls - actually growls, while calling me the dog. "You're going to answer our questions, you're not going to back talk, and you're not going to refuse an answer. If you refuse to oblige, we will hurt you."

I frown. "What if I don't know the answer? Will it affect my grade on this quiz?"

Ah, my mouth is going to get me into a lot of trouble. But some things just slip out, you know?

"Any question you cannot answer will result in your injury. Compliance is the best option."

"That's a tad one-sided," I muse. Then I shrug. "Ask away. I'll answer to the best of my abilities."

"How did you escape the camps?"

Oh, these types of questions, then? Easy. "My brother helped me. He was really the mastermind behind it all."

"Where is he?"

"Dead. Killed by a Sentry soon after we escaped. Then it was just me."

"How the hell are you still alive?"

"Teaching myself to fight, and stealing what I needed from Sentry stations." Slight lie. An older guy taught Brian and I a few things before we left because he wanted us to be able to defend ourselves. But - these guys don't need to know that.

"By yourself?"

"For awhile."

"Where's your team now?"

"No idea. Your bomb kinda rendered me unconscious. They must've disappeared in that time before you caught us."

That gets me a whack in the stomach, because I guess my answer wasn't enough. I gasp, Aaron calling my name and struggling against his binds to try to reach me.

"Where are they headed?" the man snarls.

"I-I don't know," I choke. "Originally, we had a rendezvous point near Rhode Island, but if they think I'm dead, they might head somewhere else." Lies. But again, they don't need to know that.

This earns another whack of the baton, this time against the base of my knee. My knee kicks forward, hitting the man, and I'm punched in the jaw by one of the other men. I cough and wheeze, my eyes watering. 

"How many people are in your group?"

I must have taken too long to respond. The knife comes down on my arm, slicing through a decent way - not enough to scar, but enough to bleed and make me scream.

"Bryna!" Aaron shouts, struggling against his restraints, trying to uproot the pole, trying to do something to stop this cruelty.

"Four," I choke. Probably, this is actually the truth if Justin's still with them.