“Fan out!” our commander shouts. “Weapons up! Form a line around the field!”

Other teams have shown up through the tunnel entrances around the field. They start to spread out just like we do until we all link together, forming a circle around the field. Every weapon, even fake ones like mine, are drawn and pointed up at the seating where the Colonists are scurrying to hide inside their shacks. Not a single one is putting up a fight. They’re all too terrified.

Somewhere down in the street, Alvarez and a few other teams will take the Colony guards down. If they’re anything like these people here on the inside, they won’t fight them too hard.

This all feels too easy. Almost unfair. I want to lower my ‘gun’ because I’m starting to feel guilty lying to them with it.

“Hold steady!” Todd, my gun coach, shouts.

So that’s what we do: we point our mix of real and fake weapons at the cowering, hiding Colonists and we wait.

Somewhere from the utter silence behind me, a cow moos mournfully.

Chapter Eighteen

“What do you mean you’re staying here?!”

Vin pretends to wince at my shouting. “Kitten, please. My ears. You’re shrieking.”

“You’re being a coward!”

“I’m being an opportunist.”

“Selfish.”

“A little, yeah.”

I collapse in a chair across from him inside the large tent.

We’re early to our next strategy meeting with the Vashons. I don’t know why we’re meeting again so soon—everyone knows what we’re going to do: move on to the next Colony, the one in the south against the water. The people we’ve taken in so far have been eager to talk. Once Alvarez showed up in the middle of that field and announced what his intentions were, the people began to slowly come out of their hiding places. Turns out not all of them live in the tents and shacks out in the open. A big portion of the Pod lives inside the structure where there are offices turned into dorm rooms, kitchens, showers, bathrooms, even nurseries and play areas. It’s not at as bad down there as it is up top, but they’re so overcrowded they’ve spilled out to live with the animals and crops. Word from the other teams is that the football stadium is just as bad. It’s no wonder the Colonists rushed up north to save the MOHAI from the Hive—they can’t afford to lose all that space.

Now Vin is telling me he isn’t leaving. His flock isn’t leaving, either, and I’m thinking the crowded Colonies are about to get worse before we can make them better.

“Where will you put your people? There’s no room in the stadiums,” I protest.

“We’re not staying in the stadiums.”

“Then where?”

“The MOHAI.”

I sigh in annoyance. “In case you forgot, The Hive has the MOHAI.”

“In case you forgot, the Colonists went up there to take it back. Whoever won that fight has the MOHAI—and no matter who the winner is, they don’t have a leader at the moment. The Colonists have lost their home and The Hive has lost their boss.” He spreads his hands with a smile. “Easy pickings for a man with an army.”

“What army?”

“The small army of Vashons that Alvarez is giving me to squash whoever is in power.”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “He’s giving you an army to take over the MOHAI for yourself?”

“He’s giving me what I need to take the MOHAI back.”

“For all of us. For the greater good and all that crap.”

He shrugs. “That was never specified.”

“Don’t do this, Vin,” I tell him seriously. “Don’t double-cross this guy. It’s not smart. He’s too powerful.”

“I’m not double-crossing anyone.”

“It’s shady at best.”

He leans forward, catching my eye. “You afraid for me, Kitten?”

“Always. I’m always afraid you’re going to get yourself killed, and probably me along with you.”

“Have I gotten you killed yet?”

“So close, so many times.”

He sits back. “Take it easy. Alvarez is going to have all the problems he can handle with the two stadiums and all those people on his hands, not to mention whatever you all find down south. Once I show I can be trusted with his people to take over the MOHAI, he’ll gladly hand it back over to me. I’ll even agree to take on more people. Make his life a little easier. He’ll be thrilled.”

“No double-cross?” I ask warily, afraid of the fact that I actually kind of see his point. Either I’ve been around him too long and he’s rubbing off on me, or Vin is turning into a vaguely decent human being—something that seems as likely ice cream.

He draws an X over his heart, grinning. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Careful what you wish for,” I mutter.

The tent door flips open. People begin to pour in, one by one taking their seats around the room. I wait patiently.

When Trent and Ryan step in, I smile.

“Ten fingers?” I ask Ryan.

He grins. “And ten toes.”

“Yes!”

I raise my hand for him to give me five of his fingers. Trent goes to step past me to sit down, but I raise my leg to block him.

“You too, buddy,” I tell him. “Ten fingers? Ten toes? Six eyes? Seven brains?”

“I’ll add anatomy to the list of classes you’ll be taking from me.”

I drop my leg with a thud. “Sit down,” I grumble.

He does, but not before he covertly gives me his knuckles to bump. I don’t look at him when I do it, but I know he’s smiling. It’s then that I realize his smile doesn’t creep me out like it used to. I’ve seen it enough to make it normal, and the fact that anything about Trent seems ‘normal’ to me is a very disturbing fact.

“Is everyone here?” Alvarez asks, taking his position behind the central table. He glances around the room, looking annoyed. “Where are Bishop and Haskins?”

“Who’s Haskins?” Ryan whispers.

I shrug.

“Ali is…” a woman begins before faltering.

We all stare at her expectantly. My gut is clenching with nerves. Was she hurt? There wasn’t any real fighting and she didn’t even go to the Colony.

“She’s…” the woman tries again, glancing around at each of us nervously.

Alvarez nods curtly. “Got it. We’ll move forward without them.”

“Is Haskins Sam?” I whisper to Ryan.

He nods, his brow creased. “I think so, yeah.”

“The operation went well. Better than expected,” Alvarez says, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Conditions inside were worse than we thought and a depressed population is an easy one to overtake. They’re passive. Any change in their government seems like a ray of hope. The southern Pod won’t be as easy.”

“Do they live differently?” my commander asks. I think his name is Roberts, and I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have known his name before following him into a fight. I’m getting complacent. Comfortable.

It makes my skin itch.

“The living situation in the south is vastly different from the one we’ve just seen. I sent scouts to eyeball it before we made camp here. They’ve come back with reports of electricity, lots of it, and more than one building. They’ve taken over a park on a peninsula in Lake Washington as their main hub of operation. They’ve built a small warehouse along with a few other buildings, but most of the people are living in homes farther out on the peninsula, surrounded by the water.”

“Homes as in shacks?”

“Homes as in homes. Mobile homes and manufactured homes.”

Someone chuckles. “They took a page from our book.”

“They’ve taken a lot of things from us,” Alvarez agrees darkly. “There are fields there, but not many. Hardly any farming, very few animals. A lot of it is green open spaces. The standard of living in the south is light years beyond what’s going on in the stadiums, and that’s a problem for us.”

“They’re comfortable,” Trent agrees quietly. “And they’re happy.”

“Dead on. We can’t surround them and take them peacefully like we did here. They’ll fight back because they have somewhere to hide and they have something worth defending. Crenshaw,” he says, catching the old man’s eye, “we’ll need more than just a light show this time around.”