don’t know, but I’m not stopping now.”
*
Things have shifted at HQ. Whereas before everyone was running about, quickly trying to figure out what to do next against Siege, the compound is now eerily silent, distrust hardening every face. The hallways are filled with whispers and stolen glances, people walking alone with heads hung low in suspicion and doubt. The panic is palpable, wafting from every teary eye and hunched shoulder.
Everyone smells a rat, but no one knows where it’s coming from.
It takes us forever to get Mom through security; even though Millie encouraged us to bring family members underground, the blind terror of that video has everyone on alert, and she has to undergo a strict vetting process just to walk through the door. And not only her: Apparently while we were away, Millie issued staff-wide polygraph tests, so I find myself strapped to multiple sensors before I can even think about finding Teddy or that purple paper.
“Is your name Claire Rice?” asks my interrogator, a man I’ve never seen before.
“Yes.” The polygraph needle remains calm, though I am not. I have no reason to be nervous—I have nothing to hide—but all the sensors strapped to my body, plus the high-pressure situation of knowing the only reason this is happening is that something has gone terribly wrong, have me feeling light-headed.
“Are you an intern for Warrior Nation?”
“Yes.”
He asks a few more baseline questions before launching into “Are you in any way connected to Siege?”
“No,” I say with more anger than I mean. This is a waste of my time! The real culprit is out there right now, roaming these halls!
“Where were you when Joy Goodwin, also known as Girl Power, was kidnapped?”
For this, I don’t have an answer. I don’t know the exact moment she was taken, or what exactly transpired. My imagination has certainly dreamed up the worst, though, flashing images of her being held down against her will, her super strength overpowered by chains, cages, and other terrible torture devices. Thinking of these possibilities, the needle starts to sway a bit, but I recount the last time I saw her, right down to me helping her change into her suit in that bathroom stall, and how I went home and cried, praying for her safety.
I pass the test and meet up with Mom and Bridgette, who looks as frustrated as I feel.
“That was ridiculous,” Bridgette says, gritting her teeth. “Nothing like creating internal hysteria to keep people on edge and away from finding the truth.”
“It’s not good,” I admit, my heart sinking. Either Warrior Nation has no clue what’s going on with Siege, or they do and are working overtime to cover up their mistakes. No matter what, it’s discouraging.
Under different circumstances, getting to show off HQ to Mom would be a really cool moment, since she’s lived the WarNat life just as long as I have. But with all the blue lighting switched to red for the state of emergency, and people walking around like the world is coming to an end, it isn’t exactly the chill family tour I would have preferred.
“This is…this is…wow.” Mom’s jaw hangs open as she takes it all in, flashing screens and weary faces passing us by.
“It’s usually, um, less grim,” I admit. Everywhere we turn, there’s someone either crying alone in a corner or tiredly typing on their tablet, trying to find a shred of hope on their screen. This is not the place I’ve come to know and love; this is not the Warrior Nation spirit. With every step, it feels more and more possible that Millie, Roy, Teddy—someone—is guilty, and they are doing whatever it takes to keep themselves out of trouble. Mom keeps a death grip on my arm as Bridgette stays laser-focused, leading us toward the cafeteria.
In our hurry, we pass by the Bad News room, where Anna sits alone, mesmerized by the flat screen. A loop of Matt’s hostage video plays, over and over, yet she doesn’t move, his battered face reflected in her giant glasses.
“Anna? What are you doing?” I ask, straying off course. I sit next to her, but she barely moves, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. “How many times have you watched this?”
“Not sure,” she whispers. “I’ve lost count.”
I could barely make it through the first time; how can she keep going? “Why don’t you look away for a sec, okay?” The screen cuts to black, but a second later, it starts again, Matt’s bruised mouth beginning his message.
“I can’t,”