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                    Chapter 1

The cold wind slips under my jacket, making me shiver in the frigid air. Winter would be here sooner than expected. I bundle the coat closer to my body, watching the street below from the apartment rooftop assigned as my post. We have been waiting for hours in the bitter cold in an old city where no one willingly ventured into the night because of the wild people who occupied the forgotten buildings. None of us are prepared to walk away until the mission is completed, even if it means possibly being attacked by savages. They aren't the real threat, at least not yet. 

"Targets moving. Do not engage, wait for my mark." 

"Pierce, they're likely to run, be ready." It is hard to tell who is who since we use a voice-over, though it is either Richards or Baker, our commanding officers. I press the earpiece, powering it on, from here until the end of the mission. They can track my position with the piece as well in case we run into trouble though that rarely happens. One mistake can destroy everything we've worked towards giving the Rebel's an advantage.

"Understood," a voice responds. It's Rein. The cover used to mask his voice is more profound than any man I have ever heard, making it clear we do not use our real voices. In my opinion, the extra "protection," as Baker puts it, is unnecessary. No one has a clue we exist outside the Federal, or if they did, they are already dead. 

Rein points to an incoming delivery truck moving at about 40 miles per hour with its headlights off on the rooftop across from me. In the dark, they would never notice us even with the two men positioned outside of the moving vehicle's cabin. I wave my hand signaling in response that I see them preparing my gear. I stand on the edge of the roof, watching the truck approach through the narrow street, driving over the trash and potholes with ease. Before they are directly under the building, I jump over the edge of the building. I forget about the cold air and the importance of this mission, I focus on getting the job done. Catching the zip line attached to the door of the rooftop and a dumpster across the road at ground level, I slow my momentum downwards and kick one of the guards over the truck's side. I land carefully beside Rein, and he shakes his head in awe, drawing his gun. Even after all the years, he's known me, he never seems to stop being surprised by the things I'm capable of doing. 

  "I've never known anyone crazy enough to jump eight stories onto a moving truck," he says. "Or anyone else that could pull it off."

"Then you don't know Pierce," Baker replies, removing the voice modifier. "Phase two." 

Slide over the side of the truck, I get a footing on the step and throw open the door startling the passenger inside. The driver reaches for his gun, but Rein is already inside the cab on his right, holding a pistol to the man's temple. "I wouldn't use that gun on us. Pull this truck to a stop, and Pierce will escort you out." 

"I can't do that," the boy laughs, shaking his head. "You'll have to do it yourself."

Annoyed at his forced bravery, I slap a handcuff on his wrist, pulling him out of the seat towards me. He yells in surprise as I switch positions with him and latch the other cuff onto the handle beside the door where I was standing. Only he doesn't get the same footing and kicks wildly in the air to keep from dragging his feet along the road. I climb into the driver's seat easing the truck to a slow stop in front of a vacant red brick shop with busted-in windows and neon green spray-painted walls smudged from past rains. Rein removes his helmet, shaking out his long hair brushing it aside as it falls into his bright green eyes with a bored sigh. This mission has been one of the most uneventful compared to the previous assignments we've worked on as a team. I didn't mind the simplicity as much as it seems like a waste of our time. Charles rarely gives us a mission that takes so much time. 

It has been a long week away from home, and we are in need of rest, a full meal, and time to see where this war is heading. Even though he seems bored, I know he wants to be done as much as I do, but we both know we have years before Charlie lets us go on leave. The thought brings a familiar dull feeling in my chest that I push aside. Emotions are pointless. Passion makes us weak. Charlie has made that motto very clear, and so far, he hasn't been wrong. I've seen many people sacrifice their lives to save another when deep down, they know they'll both die. I still have yet to understand why someone would die for someone else, why someone will risk everything to save one person. 

Two armed soldiers approach from the darkened alleyway ahead of us. They stick close to the buildings where the shadows provide cover in the growing light of the morning. If I hadn't known they would be there, I would never have seen them in their black gear or the lumps under their jackets concealing guns. But, of course, I knew they'd be there. They are always where they need to be.  

Baker laughs at the boy dangling from the truck's side, the boy's face pales with fear and anger. He motions for Richards to get him down and contained, then turns to us, letting his gun swing at his side as he relaxes. "We'll load them up, and you'll follow us back to base." 

"Understood," Rein says, sliding his helmet back on. "Let's go home." 

None of us need encouragement. Exhaustion and fatigue are plainly written on our features from the sleepless nights and continuous movement from tracking the Rebel troops for three weeks to figure out where we could pick off their next delivery. The mission was to capture the Rebels for information. Still, the contents within the truck's storage unit are just as valuable to us as it is to them. Food, water, and ammunition are scarce, and we would fight to gather as much of it as we could in order to survive. This is no longer a world of government and structure; this is a world of war and greed. Only those strong enough know how to survive, and those who know the truth will survive. 

It's morning by the time we reach the limits of another abandoned city destroyed by the continually changing weather patterns that eroded the concrete buildings until most of the levels collapsed within themselves. We still have three miles to go until we pass into the outskirts of the city to a military compound abandoned after the Fallout. Unlike most of the soldiers living in the Commons, we are trained for more advanced and complicated missions that require more skill than the average strength and shooting accuracy. The team I am part of is a Special Forces team used for more delicate tasks that Commander Charles Baylor expects us to complete successfully. None of us let him down or ever would, the consequences of failure are not especially inviting, with no exceptions to rank. 

I smack Rein on the side of his head with my free hand to waking him and receive an unappreciated glare in return. He straightens from his slouched position and opens the door to stand on the foot lift to notify the guards to let us through. We pass into the courtyard of cheering men that call out names and bang on the sides of the truck. A noise to uplift us and to rattle the prisoners. The prison doors are pulled open to let us in, and the prisoners locked in the back. Pull to a stop beside Baker's black SUV, I climb out as Rein disappears around the side to unload the Rebel's. I turn away to let them take care of the remaining complications. All I want to do is shower and sleep, not worry about aggressive prisoners that won't cooperate.

The boy I had handcuffed outside the truck launches himself at Rein, throwing a punch to his temple before Rein can protect himself from the blow. He charges towards the gates in blind, desperate fury, eyeing the crowd like a wild animal. I step in front of him, making him falter in his steps, stopping a few feet from his freedom. His eyes narrow in annoyance, and he shakes his head, sizing me up. I'm at least six inches shorter and definitely not as muscular, but he hasn't had my training or knows how quick I can be. Plus, he has no advantage here. If he does manage to beat me, he will still end up rotting in a cell with his friends. They are doomed no matter what hope he is holding onto. He needs to let go of now.

A group of soldiers surrounds us, cheering for a fight. The other Rebels are already being held by guards waiting agitated to see what becomes of their friend. Somehow the boy has managed to get loose from the handcuffs, and it doesn't help the discomfort in the back of my mind of what he could be capable of. As much as I am confident in my own abilities, I know nothing of him. On standard missions, I've been able to study my opponent before taking them out. Rein nods reassuringly out of the corner of my eye, settling my unease.

"Move," he growls. "You'll be the one humiliated." 

The men behind me laugh, and I tilt my head to the side, taunting him with a mocking motion of my hand to come at me with the best he can give. I want to fight to prove to him that I am better than him, stronger even, and that he is no longer a free man. Once you are here, you die a prisoner or be a brainwashed soldier taking orders to stay alive. That is something few of us understand, and I'm fortunate enough to know the truth behind all the lies. Freedom no longer exists for them, but they can accept the little bit offered and hopefully leave unscathed. So far, I've been just lucky to remain alive. Know the game to have an advantage.

He throws a high punch, I dodge catching his arm and pin it behind his back. He pulls free from my grip and spins, grabbing hold of my helmet. I elbow him in the face and knee him in the stomach to prevent him from delivering another blow. Blood from his nose soaks the sleeve of my shirt as I step back. The boy again lunges with a wide stance allowing me to quickly lower my shoulder to throw him over. He grunts on contact and knocks my helmet off as he goes down on his back in the dirt behind me. Hair falls to the middle of my back in a loose braid, sliding into my face and shielding my eyes. He rolls, looking at me in astonishment from where he lies, and I share a look of hatred mixed with pity for his stupidity. I pick up my helmet from the ground beside him without taking my eyes off him. He could be dangerous and unpredictable if I am caught off guard. Though it seems that finding out I'm a girl is enough to keep him down without much effort. 

After all, the men around us continued to cheer and laugh, after all, he was beaten by a girl and humiliated in front of the whole compound and his own companions. I look up at the rest of his group, they are just as surprised as to who I am. Naturally, there has never been a woman in the Federation Army. Charlie liked to keep that information exclusively within our compounds. I was Charlie's secret weapon. I can go anywhere he needed me without being noticed. If his enemies found out who I actually was, it would be the end of his power over them. Granted, there are rumors of someone like me but never proof.

The boy crawls to his feet, and I slap another pair of handcuffs on his wrists, guiding him roughly towards the prison doors myself. We reach the doorway, and I shove my helmet into the hands of one of the guards, they could return it to my room or the armory. There is no need for me to hide my identity now, they'd find out sooner or later whether they stayed. Baker leads the way down two flights of stairs to the lower basement where we could use a larger room to contain them together. They might be more cooperative if they are together, as we have learned over the years of taking other rebels prisoner. He opens the door to one of the last rooms allowing us to step inside and removes the cuffs from their wrists. None of them try to fight us or make eye contact. I can sense their defeat as naturally as the sense of victory from the men outside. For a moment, I have sympathy for them, only for a moment. They are no longer my problem to deal with after today. 

Baker and Rein leave the room to stand guard outside, and I stand guard inside the room alone. There are three guys and a girl, all about eighteen, younger than most of the rebels we've taken prisoner, but still trained like the rest of them. Not that that is saying much. There hasn't been one to surprise us yet.

"What's your name?" One of the men ask. I barely glance at him before returning to staring at the far wall, showing no interest in sharing. "You seem young to be working in the Federation."  

I glare at him in warning that if he keeps talking, there will be consequences. I'm not allowed to speak to them unless given permission, not that I would ask. His attempt to make a friend out of me is pointless, and I'll save him the time of trying by ignoring him. 

"That's because she's very talented," a man with slick golden hair spouts, walking through the door. "Her skills are greater than any other soldier here. Including those of your ranks as well." 

"Can't she speak for herself?" The girl asks sharply. "Can't people speak their minds here, or is that against the rules too?"

"Lessons," Charlie says, his eyes sparkling at her comment. "Don't speak of our way of life until you know what it is like. It wouldn’t hurt for any of you to learn any of those rules. I'll cut to the chase, we won't harm you in any way unless you give us a reason. Either you join us, or you'll become a permanent prisoner until you die or are executed. You have 48 hours to choose from, then you'll be given rooms which you can not leave, and food will be brought to you. If you are spot sneaking around, you will be shot on sight. The team that brought you in will escort you separately to prevent any more conflict between my men and you. Don't try crossing them, they are trained to kill and will not hesitate to do as their training prepared them to do." 

When none of them say anything in acknowledgment, Charlie turns to leave. For a brief moment, I meet the girl's gaze. Her eyes are full of despair and sympathy. I look away from her, not sure if the compassion is directed towards me. She couldn't understand that I'm here out of duty, I'm here to learn from the enemy by getting close. Charlie might think I obey him without question and believe in his cause like a child listening to a happy bedtime story when I hate him more than I hate myself. I survive by playing him, not the other way around. 

Baker and Rein step into the room after Charlie brushes by them with a simple nod of acknowledgment to escort each prisoner to separate cells. I'm stuck with the girl and last to leave the room. She doesn't seem nervous like she had been when we first arrived at the compound; if anything, she is studying me with open curiosity. A curiosity that I had grown to despise when it came to a Rebel's mind had no limit to their questions and begging. What is worse is that the sympathy still lingers beneath the surface of what she shows. 

"Your last name is Pierce?" She asks as I walk her down the hall. "We've heard of you. You might know who I am, McKenzie Parks." 

Parks. The name sounds familiar, but I cannot place to whom it belonged to or where I've heard it from. Possibly from when I was a child, but it isn't especially easy to remember my past when it was stolen from me years ago. 

I shrug, continuing to lead her down the hall to a room several doors away from the previous place. A guard is already posted outside the door with the key in hand without making eye contact with either of us. He is of a lower rank, it would be a violation for him to speak or even look at me unless I give him permission. McKenzie hesitates outside the room, glancing briefly at me. She takes in the plain white brick walls with no windows or light beside the faded glow of a round bulb swaying overhead. A single dirty cot sits against the far wall facing the heavy metal cell door with a flat pillow atop the thin sheets. McKenzie's distaste is written across her face, and her horror is quickly hidden by a grimace than a blank expression. 

"Miss you need to go in," the guard says, casting a nervous glance towards me. 

"I know," she says, stepping into the room and allowing the guard to swing the door closed behind her. 

"Charlie needs to speak with you," the guard says quietly. "He asked me to send you up once the prisoners were dropped off." 

I sigh tiredly that most likely meant another assignment without a break between. I start up the back stairwell to the second floor and towards the opposite side of the building, where Charlie holds meetings in an office overlooking the yard. Most days, we can find him watching drills from the window, studying each soldier with strict assessments on their ability to perform on the battlefield when it became time. War is something Charlie is continually preparing for, but his domination over the Rebel trade routes doesn't propose a fight anytime soon. His unpredictable manner does worry me from time to time. He doesn't always make choices with a clear head, yet we have to do as he says no matter the circumstances. 

The doors are cracked open when I arrive, voices spill out into the hall, and I slow my pace to hear the conversation. Sneaking around is the only way to find out secrets embedded in Charlie's administration. "I'm aware the Elite team has had an abundance of successful missions, I'm afraid that is the problem." 

I stop in my tracks and press the transmission button on my radio, catching the last part of Charlie's comment. The transmission will be sent directly to the rest of my team, I feel they will need to hear what is about to be said. If Charlie is speaking about problems within our team, it isn't a good sign because he never has talked about issues in the past. Issues mean changes. I press myself against the wall creeping closer to the door to hear better. 

Wesley is the one who replies, another high ranked officer Charlie uses as his puppet to make sure his plans go according to the hours he spent mulling over different variables to achieve success. "How is this a problem? It makes all our jobs much easier." 

"Their skills have significantly increased beyond the point where we wanted them to be. Pierce displayed that in the courtyard this afternoon, and so have the other three during missions. Sooner or later, they will become a threat," Charlie says. "I prefer never. That is why we must take the necessary precautions to ensure none of them ever pose any problems in the future. What we have here is far too important to let fall apart to keep a few people under control. They will be eliminated quietly along with the prisoners they've captured. They are too much of a burden." 

"Pierce wouldn't be so much a threat considering she does not speak, and her memories are wiped," Wesley states calmly. "She can still be useful if contained and so can Rein. They have never questioned your authority like Baker or Richards have; they are loyal soldiers. The other two are beyond their time anyway."  

"Perhaps," Charlie agrees slowly. "Still eliminate the other three and the prisoners tonight. Get some strong hands to restrain Pierce, she isn't likely to go down without a fight. She has grown close to her team, especially Rein. They must not find out the truth." 

"As you wish," Wesley replies dully. 

I duck around the corner before Wes opens the door walking back around the corner, greeting him with a nod to make sure he doesn't suspect that I have overheard anything. He nods in return, his expression blank and unconcerned.

I entered Charlie's office with a sharp knock on the door. He turns away from the window, smiling at me as if he means to have a casual conversation, but I'm not fooled by charm as some may be. "Pierce, great job last night. Successful as always," he says proudly. "I'm sorry to say you'll be reassigned tomorrow due to... unseen complications within our system. You understand how important it is to make sure there aren't any growing attachments. Emotions are troublesome things to toy with."

I nodded, keeping my expression one of complete understanding instead of the utter disgust I feel deep inside. He smiles tightly, waving me out of the room, apparently still thinking over his decision. He's going to risk everything because of paranoia. I study the back of his head in seething anger. I leave before I make a move that would only backfire. It would be incredibly easy to rid of him now being so close. More men will protect him than me to move up in the ranks, being first in command isn't easy to earn, it benefits everyone else if I am out of the game. Another thing has stopped me from taking his life in the past as well. I'm not sure what it is. After everything he has done to make me hate him, every time I'm only a few feet away and armed, I can't force myself to drive the blade through his back. He's forced me to take more lives than I can count, and I've forced myself to feel nothing towards them to stay the unbreakable soldier in his eyes. How much longer I can go worries Rein most of all. He's afraid I'll snap, and I have the same fear. I close the door behind me, stopping the transmission. Burying the hurt of his betrayal in the back of my mind, I amble down the hall with my eyes directed towards the floor. Eventually, Charlie will get what is coming. Charlie will not get away with murdering people to save his own skin for much longer. If killing him wasn't so easy, running away is much simpler. 

I'm the last one to reach my room where the rest of the team waits in uncomfortable silence, debating our next move. We only have seven hours to make a decision. If we couldn't find a solution, we were sitting ducks and killed off in secret. Baker finally speaks after another ten minutes of stifling silence, startling us all. "It's clear that we are planning an escape mission. Unless anyone objects, you can stay," no one speaks against him, so Baker continues. "Richards, you'll get supplies, Pierce and Rein will get the prisoners. I'll get the cars. We need to move fast, or we're dead." 

"We're taking the Rebels?" Rein asks mystified. "Why?"

  "They'll be murdered as well. They'll take us to the Rebel base where we can lay low until we decide what to do next." 

"Can't we talk to him?" Rein asks. "Convince him somehow? How do we know the Rebels won't betray us?" 

"He doesn't listen to reason," Baker says, knowingly glancing at me. "The Rebels will be our ticket to safety for a little while." 

"We should go now," Richards says, pushing off the dresser. "No one will suspect just yet. They'll think we're loading for the next mission and dealing with the prisoners ourselves. We have to act as though nothing has changed." 

"We have a small time window before anyone realizes what's going on," Baker says in agreement. "You know your parts, let's move before Charlie moves up the deadline." 

     I pull out a sizable brown duffel bag from under the bed and toss it to Baker. He slings the bag over his shoulder, ducking into the hall towards the garage without another word. His face reveals nothing of how he feels about the situation. Richards is the same. Neither of them showed much unless you directly asked them or they want to tell you themselves. I figure it will be a few more hours before they sort out their thoughts, but I don't suspect they'll say anything except that we need to keep moving forward. Rein waits for me outside the door, and we head back towards the prison. We walk quickly, only slowing when someone else crosses our path. Rein glances at an armed patrol as they pass us. "Do you think we have enough time?"

I shake my head truthfully. This is by far the stupidest thing we've done this year. The odds are stacked against us more than I'm willing to admit. The only thing we have going is the element of surprise. The surprise is we're abandoning Charlie to fend for himself. I touch the gun strapped to my thigh to reassure Rein and to comfort myself in knowing we're not defenseless. He smiles, shaking his head, easing up a bit. He knows that I'm always here to back him up no matter the circumstances because I know he'll do the same for the rest of our team and me. This isn't the first time we've had to make a difficult decision, and it won't be our last. 

We reach the prison hall with one guard patrolling the four cells holding the Rebels. Rein holds up a pair of handcuffs walking to the first cell to free the prisoner. The guard looks between us skeptically. His orders are probably to not let the prisoners out of his sight unless given direct orders from his officer, not us. Rein would have to come up with something believable to buy us a few more minutes to get out of here in the clear. 

"We have to take them to get cleaned up before trial," Rein explains. "The Commander has made the decision for them. You are free to resume your duties." 

He opens the door to the girls' room first, I motion for her to stand against the wall and place the cuffs loosely around her wrists. She looks up, confused by the action stiffening in anticipation. She's afraid and might bolt if given a chance. I plead for her to trust us with my eyes and not make any moves to run away. I wouldn't shoot her if she did, but someone else might. She doesn't move as we open the other three doors to bring out the rest of the Rebels, cuffing them precisely the same and directing them to the wall beside McKenzie. They cooperate, unfortunately, the guard takes notice of their strange behavior and reaches for his radio. I aim my pistol at him to keep him from moving again and give Rein an annoyed look. He couldn't have possibly have thought we'd get away with his story. Instead of apologizing, he shrugs freeing his gun from its holster and sighs. "Can't anything be easy?" 

I shake my head, hiding a small smile from the guard. Rein joking means he isn't stressed and has a plan that can get us out of here. The Rebel I've humiliated twice now takes the gun offered by Rein carefully studying us. McKenzie sticks close to his side, trustingly as her gaze flicks nervously between the guard and me. So far, I doubt I've made a good impression on her and have confirmed whatever rumors she has heard. 

The guard swallows hard, freezing in fear and raises his hands above his head. He won't try anything if he is smart enough unless he decides to be bold and draw his gun with mine already aimed. Then he is merely an idiot. By the intense way his hands shake I can bet he will stay still until we leave no matter what he says. 

"You will not touch that radio or gun," Rein says evenly. "I'm taking these prisoners out of here, Pierce will watch you. You will wait five minutes after she leaves before you even move." 

"Charlie won't let you go so easily," the guard sputters. "Pierce is a valuable asset to the system, and the prisoners have information." 

I pull back the hammer on the gun, making him flinch at the sound, forcing him back into silence. Rein motions for the Rebels to follow him to the stairwell with a nod of his head, the smirk he was wearing a minute ago is gone along with the hopeful light in his eyes. He lightly touches my shoulder reassuringly as he passes, leaving me with the nervous man. The guard laughs once they leave the hall, and their footsteps disappear up the stairwell. "You're really going to betray us? Do you think they'll let you live once they figure out you're a trained killer? You're mistaken if you do," he insists. "You're the last person here that deserves a fresh start. You are what free people fear. Discipline, a soldier, independent." 

I shift the gun down to his chest and fire without hesitation. He yelps in surprise as he falls paralyzed and trembling to the ground. A metal dart protrudes out of the center of his chest sending bolts of electricity into his body. He'll be stunned long enough for us to leave without alarm. He deserved it anyway for turning Rein bitter and trying to be a hero for the enemy. Tucking the gun away with, I sprint up the stairs after Rein. I reach the landing of the ground level as alarms ring throughout the building. I curse under my breath and hurry forward without slowing down; someone else must have seen us and got suspicious or found the unconscious guard. Two soldiers turn to me, not saying a word as I pass by quickly towards the garage. They don't know it is us. They should be stopping yet, which buys us more time to get our plans in motion. Whatever they are.  

    I make it to the hall, leading to the garage entrance when the speakers come to life echoing throughout the grounds. "Attention all available officers, all members of the Elite Task Force Team, are to be captured alive to be questioned. Beware rebel prisoners are accompanying them. They are armed and dangerous." 

The message plays on a loop, becoming more aggravating with each cycle. This is the worst planning we've done by far, not that you usually plan to betray everyone you know to keep yourself from being killed. An armed soldier turns the corner raising his gun in alarm. I dodge to the left as he fires his first round at my leg. He swings the weapon following my movements as I sprint towards him in an awkward pattern. His next shot is thrown off as he jerks to the side with one of my knives buried in his shoulder. Footsteps behind me warn of more soldiers coming. I raise my gun to the ceiling and shoot the camera hidden in the corner, blinding whoever is watching us. The first men dressed in black appear into view, and I duck behind the one I've already injured, bringing him to his feet with my gun pressed against his temple. The soldiers pause with their weapons sighted in on my shoulder as I force the man to walk backward. 

"Pierce," one of them calls. "You know this is wrong. Don't let them influence you to betray us." 

Angry, I kick the man's knees until he kneels and pretends to lower my gun. The door to the garage to ten feet behind me, but I know I can't reach for it without being shot, so I do the one thing I can. I quickly throw a flash grenade at the group and throw myself to the ground covering my ears and closing my eyes. A few of them yell then start firing randomly at the open space. I crawl quickly to the door and squeeze through a small gap shoving it closed and bolt it behind me with a massive bang of the deadbolt sliding into place. Baker smiles, pointing to a black car parked at the far end of the garage. "We figured it would be best to take it and have you drive it along with Rein. Richards and I will take the truck, it should be able to keep up." 

"Took you long enough," Rein teases, and I ignore him. "You're leading the charge, so hurry up." 

McKenzie and the other boy I knocked off the delivery truck the night before climbing into the car's back seat while their companions climb into the truck with Baker and Richards. The pounding comes from the door, along with shouts, to surrender ourselves. Rein shakes his head, jumping into the passenger seat of the car. A glint of excitement sparks in his eyes, this is the first time we were breaking the rules, and it is a new adrenaline feeling, but something is still off. There is also a hint of sadness in his smile. We are leaving the place that has been home for years and becoming enemies of friends we've grown up with. It isn't really just leaving behind a person or a situation, it is leaving a piece of himself behind. A part of us. As much as this place has taken from us, it has given a lot too. 

"Time to go," he says. I fire up the engine, ready to follow Baker. The tires squeal loudly on the polished floor as he plows through the garage door into the yard and clears a path through the crowd of unsuspecting soldiers. I follow closely behind towards the front gates swerving around spikes thrown hap hazardously across the ground. Baker drives through the gates sending splinters of wood showering over the armed man standing in the way to stop us. They fire at us wildly, missing their targets, and Rein laughs amused. 

"Two trucks following us," McKenzie says nervously looking out the back window at two SUV's speeding to catch up. I motion for Rein to take the wheel and pull a knife free from my belt. Without hesitating, I cut a deep gash into my forearm while biting my lip to keep from backing out of my decision. Rein averts his eyes as I use two fingers to find a small chip injected into my arms years ago and pull it out. Take the wheel back from Rein, he takes the chip and smashes it against the dash until it shatters. I am the only person with the device. Charlie liked to track where I went and how well my body handled certain conditions. He said it would help him understand something in the future about the Fallout, but he never told me what exactly. 

"What was that?" McKenzie asks. She keeps herself pushed against the door to say far away from us as she can possibly get. I avoid meeting her fearful gaze in the mirror; negative thoughts flow through the back of my mind, and I shake my head to clear them away. They won't help us right now, and I need to focus on making sure we all make it out alive. Out of all of us, my team is relying on me to get into the clear. "A tracking device," Rein replies, wrapping the gash in cloth and tosses the destroyed chip out the window. "There's one in every car as well, Richards got rid of both before we left." 

"Why do you strictly go by code names?" McKenzie asks. I roll my eyes, is she really that clueless or trying to make conversation? 

"They aren't coded," Rein explains, extending his hand, "they're actually our last names. Thomas Rein." 

"McKenzie Parks and this is Sam Ward," McKenzie says, smiling for the first time. They shake hands, and I press harder on the gas pulling away from the pursuing vehicles. If they hit the car, they could spin us out into the trees. The truck could be used as protection and a shield if the pursuing men decided to shoot at us. This car is not bulletproof. 

"This is Lena Hayes, also known as Pierce. Don't ask why; she won't share," Thomas explains, settling back in his seat. "The past is behind us now." 

I pull up beside Baker and then in front of him, gaining more ground away from the chasing cars. The trees around us break into a grassy field with more trees ahead to give us cover from the open fire. In an open area, they can get around in front of us and slow us down or block us, trees wouldn't allow them that chance. I press harder on the gas, desperate to get there first.  

"Time to get rid of our friends," Richards mutters into the radio. The first SUV explodes into a ball of fire and smoke, blocking the second car's advancement, forcing the driver to slam on its brakes and swerve to the left to avoid a collision. The rain of fire surprises me, and I look over at Rein in question. Richards must have planted explosives in some of the vehicles to buy us extra time. I'm glad someone thought of an alternative plan to our nonexistent one. 

I continue to check the mirrors to see if there is anyone else in the distance, but there is no one. The empty road ahead and the billow of dust behind us allows me to adjust and rethink what the next move needs to be. Running from an entire army is more complicated than running from a single person. Plus, not knowing the country gives us fewer places to hide when we don't know where we are going. My worry is what Charlie will do to us if he does catch us. Rein grips my shoulder smiling in relief. I don't relax as he does. I stay on guard watching in case we are wrong to think they'll give up for now. Charlie will have to come up with a plan to come after us. The new amount of time doesn't guarantee that those who hate us won't come hunting on their own terms. There is no doubt in my mind Charlie will reward anyone killing us. By running, the tides of the war can turn.

"Pierce, get us far from here. They'll have search teams for miles," Baker commands. I look towards the mountains in the distance. I've longed to go there for years, and now is our chance�"a chance of freedom. None of us know what that actually is, and that is what stirs an old fear in the pit of my stomach. Only an hour ago, I was telling myself that there is no such thing as freedom. I convinced myself that no one is worth saving, yet here we are rescuing people we are sworn, enemies. People who have tried killing us and plotted against us. For what? Saving them doesn't mean they are indebted to us. Being out of prison cells where the odds are a little more evened gives them another chance to attack.  

Strangely, I don't believe the voice in my head warning of the danger they pose. I study McKenzie and Sam in the rearview mirror, resting against each other, soon to fall asleep, and the sense of peace they present. Sam is armed thanks to Thomas, but he shows no interest in attacking or violence. They aren't like the savages as we have thought. They are just like us. Fighting for the cost of survival by whatever means necessary. Can I really hate them for being named an enemy by a madman driven by hate and greed? 

Rein reclines his seat and closes his eyes, settling for the long journey ahead. None of us have slept in days, and Richards is probably doing the same thing in the passenger seat of the truck, still closely following us. We needed rest to outlast the army coming after us. I don't want to be weak when they catch up to us; if it is a fight they need, I will willingly give it to them. 

"We'll take shifts driving," Rein says yawning. "Wake me up in an hour."

I look in the rearview mirror once more at McKenzie and Sam huddled in the back seat. Sam meets my eyes, and I look back at the dirt road turning off on one of the alternate routes that would eventually lead to the paved road where we could cover more ground to the borderlands between the Federation and the Resistance. The paved road would give the men following us a harder time tracking us. 

"You don't remember your past?" Sam asks, and I shake my head. My past is a sensitive topic I prefer never to speak about. Charlie made sure I wasn't comfortable with what I had done so he could have more control over me. Not that I put up much fight to his requests. Outside of the compound, I had no life, no family, and no place to go. The army is all I have known, and I've never hated the training, it made me stronger than I would have been on my own. Charlie is a tyrant, but he did teach me things I doubt I would have learned alone. No amount of guilt could make me hate myself more than I hated him. 

Sam doesn't ask any more questions, leaving me to drive in silence that I have grown fond of. Even if I wanted to speak to him, I would never share my past with him or anyone else outside of my team. None of them need to or deserve to know. I don't even want to remember, not that I have much to remember to begin with. Rein is the one I trust most, and still, we know little about each other's past. What has remained important is our loyalty to each other.

Reviews

[JNEthridge]

I am a blunt commentator, my intent to help you write better.
First, proofread more, and add commas. If this was to be an idea check, tell me that before I review.
Second, we all love the image of being a super-(soldier, policemen, or just super), just don't go over the top. Even those with finely trained skills have to constantly work for those abilities, and even then aren't perfect. Sometimes you just have to be crazy enough to try something and be in physical shape enough to can take the bump in you were off a little.
Also, we all have self-talk going on inside about our situation and abilities, even when trying this crazy stuff. I needed more a sense of that type of thought process, like, "I'll bet I can..."
Third, things that didn't compute:
Running a zip line is a lot of work, particularly in a city where you are also a prey element. Computing exactly where that line needs to come down and making sure you force the truck into exactly the right position and making them slow down enough? You either need to show us the reader that work was done before the event or have the main character talking to herself as it is happening, mentally checking off all the things that needed to happen to make it a doable act. As far as a zip-line going from eight stories high down to the other side of the street? That is a triangle with a vertical of 120 feet vs a horizontal of the street that is maybe 30 feet wide, just about straight down. That is a lot of speed to dump at the end and still knock someone off a truck and keep yourself from flying of the truck as well. People are heavy. People in armor are very heavy.
It takes time to get explosives, plant them in a truck with no one seeing you, making sure they are set up properly before you arm them.
There would be no reason to have spikes randomly around a yard. Most of the time, most of us are idiots and someone would be driving over them and busting tires at least once a day. Perhaps if there had been spikes just at the gate that could be raised and lowered. However, you would have had to figure out how your characters overcame that obstacle.
I lost visualization during her fight with the flash-bang grenade. Something in how the characters were moving was lost to me.
I hope you catch a sense of how I am tracking the questions of could the character have done the act, had enough time to do the act, and did the physics match the action, disregarding magic.
It had a good sense of action. I would like to see a little more emotional or dedicational attachment between her and her teammates.
Keep writing.