her spear to try to plunge it into his back, I run my spear through her heart. She chokes and falls to her knees with a muffled sob.
I hope her death was as painless as possible. My stomach still turns every time I kill someone, especially after hearing so much about the rebels from Erik. But I can’t afford to hesitate. It could cost my friends’ lives. At least there’s no one Erik is close with on this raid.
I turn back to make sure Peter’s okay—just in time to see the third rebel’s sword narrowly miss his chest. Peter fumbles with his daggers. The rebel thrusts again. This time, he hits Peter’s arm. Deep. Blood immediately falls as Peter drops one of his daggers with a gasp.
I’m behind the rebel before he can attack again. He spins around to block my spear, but I caught him off guard. He doesn’t put enough strength behind it. My spear twists around his blade and sends it flying out of his grip before one of Jay’s knives finds its mark in his throat.
“Jay, give Al some backup,” I say. The words snap off my tongue. “I’ll stay with Peter.”
“You don’t need to—” Peter starts.
“Understood,” Jay says. He runs toward Al without another word.
I take the small first-aid kit out of the compartment on my tool belt. Pull out the bandages to try to stem Peter’s bleeding.
“We’re still in the middle of a battle,” Peter protests, but I yank his arm toward me and apply pressure to the wound.
“Al and Jay can handle the rest,” I say. “You’re bleeding too much.” There are other things I want to say, but I bite them back. Later. He’s shaking under my touch. He knows he messed up. He needs time to calm down before I talk to him.
Once the bleeding seems to have stopped, I pull out clean bandages and wrap them around the cut. I’ve just finished my hasty job when Al calls, “All clear!”
Peter and I go to join the others by the truck. I scan Jay and Al quickly, but neither of them look hurt. I’m sure the military-grade protective gear from Austin helped. Al is already burning the vines off the tires. Thankfully, the truck is still intact this time and the ungifted inside it shouldn’t have any problem going on their way.
“The last three rebels retreated when I arrived to help Al,” Jay says. “We were able to injure one of them, but not badly. He’ll be on the battlefield again, I’m sure.”
“As long as they’re gone, that’s fine for now.” I glance to the driver’s side door of the truck when the window starts to roll down.
The woman inside is covered head-to-toe in the protective gear the ungifted need to survive Outside, but even through her helmet, I can see her eyes shining with recognition. “You’re the—the Order, aren’t you? Thank you. Oh gods, thank you. I thought we were dead.” A man leans around her other side to nod vigorously.
I can’t help it. Pride swells in my chest. For the past two months, we’ve delivered all the civilians we’ve saved to a hospital in the sector, where they could recover. Each time, if they weren’t too badly injured, we’d talk to the victims on our way back to Sector Eight. We’d tell them a bit about the Order, of how we want peace between the gifted and ungifted, how we want to help bring down the rebels. They were skeptical at first. But they spoke of us. And now, this seventh time, the people we saved recognized us. They know about us. And they’ll tell others about how we saved them.
It feels wrong to use such awful events for our own advantage, but something good might as well come out of it.
“We are with the Order,” I say. If the two recognize me, Jay, or Al from the Council’s wanted list, they don’t show it. Either that or they don’t care since we just saved them. “We’re glad you’re both safe. Do you need any help from here?”
The two glance at each other. “Would you—mind coming with us on our way to Sector Eight?” the woman asks. “That’s where you’re from, right? If those rebels come back, there’s no way we’ll stand a chance.”
I smile. “Of course. We’d be glad to see you safely home.”
* * *
As much as I want to sleep in after a counterstrike mission, the Order waits for no one. The morning after the rebels’