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AMOS WATCHED AS THE windowpanes darkened, obscuring their view of the Hoarders. He was becoming numb to the outlandish technological advancements inside the Enclave. The disparity between life inside and outside the walls was breathtaking.
“Very nice. Locked out, stuck on a balcony, twenty floors above ground.” He shrugged in resignation. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere until the Hoarders say so.”
Garr stood with his back to the balcony rail, ignoring the sights and sounds of the Enclave. “Let’s make this quick. We don’t know how long the Hoarders’ private little chat will last.”
“For starters, how did you end up inside the Enclave?” Amos turned his back on the opaque panels, ignoring the twitch between his shoulder blades. “Don and Jane made it out with me, but we got separated.”
“I was able to ensure Megan and Aubrey’s safe departure,” Mateo interrupted. “They rendezvoused with Don and Jane, en route to your Hub.”
Garr and Sheila exchanged relieved glances.
“Garr and I escorted the Hoarders back to their vehicle—as crazy as that sounds.” Sheila smiled without much humor. “It was Darcy’s idea to sneak us into the Enclave. Even the guards seem intimidated by him.”
“Darcy’s a member on the ruling Council.” Garr exhaled a deep breath, eyebrows raised. “Believe it or not, since our arrival, we’re been sitting in their gathering room, discussing potential strategies against the Givers.”
“Just like that.” Anger and disbelief clouded Amos’s voice. “You sat down for drinks with the creator of the Implants and made him part of the team? I don’t know how you expect us to trust him—I still can’t believe you trust him.”
“Who said anything about trust?” Sheila laughed bitterly. “If there’s a line between genius and insanity, Darcy crossed it a long time ago.”
Rain began to fall, gently at first but increasing into a steady downpour. The Runners edged away from the balcony rail. The shower foreshortened their view of the Enclave, cloaking the surrounding apartment towers in mist.
Garr raised his voice above the pattering rain, his eyes warm but his voice cold. “We don’t have any choice about working with these Hoarders. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Sheila and I had to sit in the back of their vehicle and pretend to be good little Citizens, just to get inside the Enclave. That was an unnerving adventure. Those guards were packing an impressive amount of firepower.”
He paused, chuckling with genuine humor. “I don’t think young Connor enjoyed the return trip, sandwiched between Sheila and I in the back seat.”
“He probably bathed in disinfectant later.” Sheila snickered, shaking her head at the memory. Her laughter faded, and she became serious again. “Once this is over, I wouldn’t turn my back on Darcy for a second.”
“That would be wise.” Mateo crossed his arms, gazing from one Runner to the next. “For now, Darcy needs you. That’s the only thing restraining him. If we succeed, there’ll be nothing to hold him back. You’re already well-aware of their deep prejudice against ‘savages.’ I daresay it rivals your own knee-jerk stereotypes toward those you deem ‘Hoarders.’”
“What about Megan?” Amos changed the subject, ignoring Mateo’s jibe. “It’s obvious the Hoarders recognized her. The blond kid called her by name.”
“Darcy and Connor recognized Megan.” Mateo corrected Amos in his instructor’s voice. “Their driver, Tony Moretti, is a recent recruit and has no memory of her. That much was plain to observe in their individual reactions.”
“I don’t think Megan recognized any of them,” Sheila said, placing a cautionary hand on Amos’s arm. “But considering how much damage she’s sustained, that might not mean much.”
“Does it mean she might take their side?” Amos glanced over his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the opaque windows. He shook his head, embarrassed by his impulsive question. “No, forget I asked that. Darcy’s responsible for the Implants, and Megan is—was—a Tracker, trying to ‘harvest’ them. If anything, they should be enemies.”
Sheila snapped her fingers, her thoughtful frown giving way to an astonished smile. “Wait a minute. That’s the missing piece. Garr, remember when Darcy told us they only Implant people from outside the Enclave?”
Garr nodded, his eyes haunted. “By his own twisted logic, it makes perfect sense. They’d never Implant a Citizen of the Enclave. It’s like an unwritten rule.”
“How noble,” Amos muttered, recalling the night he’d removed his own Implant.
Sheila acted as if she hadn’t heard him, enthusiasm coloring her voice. “Just yesterday, Connor made an off-hand comment about that being the only thing they had in common with the Givers—neither side would ever use a Citizen as raw material. It’s sacrilege to them.”
Garr’s eyes lit up. “I remember him saying that. And yet, it’s obvious that both Darcy and Connor recognized her. If that’s the case . . .”
“Megan was once a Citizen.” Amos exhaled in a long, slow whistle. “The Givers broke the unwritten rule.”
Mateo quelled their growing pocket of excitement with a sharp gesture. The windowpanes were beginning to lose their opacity. Tony’s bulky frame could be seen through the glass. He was coming to open the door.
“It would not be in the Givers’ best interests to antagonize their allies on the Council.” Mateo turned toward the balcony rail, hiding his face from the villa’s occupants. “If that’s true—why the needless gamble? What is it about Megan that made such a risk seem like a good idea?”
Amos caught his breath, suddenly alarmed. “You’re not speaking in riddles for once. You don’t know what’s going on with Megan, do you?”
The door latch clicked behind them.
“No,” Mateo said quietly, his words rushed. “And that is a matter of some concern.”