Into the Fire (Flame in the Shadows Trilogy #1)

36. Mel

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

MEL

Recovering from my concussion has been beyond frustrating.

Four days confined to my bed, four days stuck on the sidelines. I’ve been symptom-free for two, but Aaliyah’s insistent: no physical activity until she allows it. And she won’t clear me until at least seven days have passed from the date of the injury, no matter how well I feel.

I’m lucky to be alive, I know, but three more days…

I yank on a pair of fatigues and a tank top, hair wet from the subzero shower I’ve just taken. Shower’s not really the right word; it’s more like a freezing waterfall, siphoned from the ice-cold river that runs above the washroom. The water spills through a hole in the ceiling and splatters on the stone floor below. There’s no drain. Instead, the runoff flows into a deep trough around the perimeter of the room, which carries it under the wall and into the bathroom next door. The primitive toilets in there are only seats situated above the overflow from the washroom. From there, the stream carries everything out of the caves to rejoin the river downhill.

It’s genius. Still, as I pull on a soft hoodie over my tank top, I dream of hot showers and steaming, bubbly baths.

Aaliyah would be happy. According to her, dreaming is about as far as I should push my brain right now. She was pissed when I went against her orders and took charge of coordinating my team’s efforts to collect the rest of the evidence for our video, but we couldn’t wait, not with the BioAgent delivery looming closer every day.

I was an integral part of the planning process. Even so, I hated being stuck here while Sam, Hunter, and Vik surveyed an off-site meeting of Organization agents, using the information we found at Levett Tech to locate the gathering. Thankfully they got out unseen and brought back some excellent footage of those agents—faces identifiable—planning a handoff of weapons to their criminal backers.

The next night, they recorded the delivery itself, again without my help. They weren’t able to catch faces this time, but video evidence of the drop should be enough, together with everything else we’ve assembled.

Lying in bed waiting for them to come home was infuriating. I wanted to be on the front lines, to actively tear the Organization down with my bare hands. Instead, I’m almost like a mascot or a cheerleader, yelling “Go team!” while the others make the winning play.

At least I still got to be in the video. Yesterday, I worked with Sam and Lisa to record my part and edit it all together.

The final product is powerful. It shows overwhelming evidence of the Organization’s wicked actions, along with dire warnings about what they hope to accomplish.

We’re launching it today. This morning. As soon as I get down to the mess hall.

I stare at my pale face in the long mirror, something stronger than nerves running around the pit of my stomach. My eyes are bright. Alive. Even with the concussion, even aching from Tommy’s choice, I’ve got more life in me right now than I’ve had in a long, long time.

With a deep breath, I twist my dripping hair into a knot atop my head and secure it with an elastic.

When we launch the video, my future will be irrevocably changed. The Organization is already after me, but once this hits the Web, I’ll be their number one target.

I shudder, imagining what they’ll do if they get the chance.

All those people will die if I don’t do this. Moms and dads and kids and grandparents.

I have to get it done now, before I chicken out.

I suck in another breath, nod at my reflection, and stalk out the door.

The mess hall is crowded by the time I arrive. Even Tommy’s here, lurking in the back of the room like a phantom with his arms crossed, Cait a constant shadow at his side.

Pain and guilt spiral through me at the sight of his drawn face. Though I’ve tried my best to lock him out of my thoughts, I haven’t been able to curb the ache in my empty chest, nor my worry at his absence from normal life around the caves. He tried to come by a couple times over the last few days, but I didn’t let him in. I have enough on my plate without extra helpings of relationship drama.

Memories of our last encounter—the agony in his eyes, the way he pleaded—haunt me late into the night, where they lash my heart to bits.

Seeing him now, he looks worse than I feared. His eyes are desolate, shadowed purple like he hasn’t slept in days. There’s no life, no spark in them.

I bite my lip and turn away. I can’t let myself give in to the pain. Not my own. Not his. Not even if his hurts worse than mine ever could.

Sisters and brothers. Aunts and uncles. Cousins and neighbors and lovers.

Lisa’s set up a large flatscreen on a table at the end of the room, her laptop already hooked up to it. I make my way toward her, insides squirming.

She smiles at me. “Are you ready?”

I swallow against the dryness in my throat. “Yes.”

“This will work.”

Her intensity only fuels my nervous energy.

She turns toward the noisy crowd. An excited buzz runs through the room, but when Lisa raises her arms, silence descends.

“This is a pivotal moment for the Resistance,” she calls, loud and confident. “Never before have we openly attacked the Organization, nor have we tried to reveal them to the public. Yes, it is a bold and dangerous move, but desperate times call. You are all aware, after the information was divulged at Melanie’s trial last week, that their newest strategy involves the release of a deadly pathogen. This attempt to expose them is our last chance to prevent that disaster.”

Lisa pauses, eyes roving the group. “The pathogen is being shipped across the country as we speak, moving in a zigzag pattern during daylight hours and halting, heavily guarded, at night. Most of you don’t know I sent Jack and Zara to pose as low-level lackeys in order to intercept and destroy the shipment after we procured the bill of lading last week. The pathogen cannot survive extreme heat, and so we’d hoped to plant bombs and detonate the truck carrying it from afar, neutralizing the threat. Unfortunately, the Organization was alerted to our interference before Jack and Zara could complete their mission. They did not make it out alive.”

A horrified shock vibrates through the crowd as Lisa pauses again, bowing her head. I glance at Tommy, who’s staring at his boots.

My nails bite into my palms.

Too much pain. Too much death.

The crowd rustles and whispers. A few people weep, Vik among them, a shaking hand held over their mouth.

When Lisa looks up, there are tears gleaming in her dark eyes too. “Now that the Organization is aware we are after the pathogen, they have tripled the number of guards traveling with it, making it impossible for a team to reach with any hope of survival. They will be on high alert for additional imposters among their ranks, and the shipment is due to arrive at Levett Tech tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I will not send another family member to their death. And so, this video is our one and only shot at saving lives. Melanie and her team have risked everything to create it, and for that, I honor them. Mel, Hunter, Vik, Sam. Thank you.”

Lisa gives us each a small smile and a salute. I’m too stunned to react.

Part of me hoped, even if the video failed, Lisa could find another way to stop the Organization. But this is truly our one and only shot.

“Melanie, I’d love nothing more than to give you the honor of launching the video. All you need to do is click here, where it says initiate .”

Lisa leans forward and touches a button on the screen of her laptop. “When you do, the video will be pushed onto all the major social media platforms, where it will be forcibly played on each device currently connected to them. It will then remain embedded in every account’s social feeds, able to be replayed and shared. Assuming I’ve done this correctly, that is.”

Lisa’s smile is brittle. She’s nervous too.

Heart hammering, I search the shadows behind the crowd. I find Tommy in the same spot as before, watching me. His eyes are carefully blank, his expression empty save for a slight tightness around his mouth.

His voice echoes in my head, begging me not to do this.

But if I don’t, Jack and Zara died for nothing. Our parents died for nothing. Millions more will die. What is my life worth in the face of that truth?

Sons and daughters. Students and teachers. Friends. Good people. Beloved people.

I tear my eyes from Tommy’s, a piece of myself breaking away as I do. With trembling, numb fingers, I move the cursor over the initiate button and click.

The video pops up on the big screen.

I’m standing in a dark room, dressed head to toe in Resistance black, weapons strapped to my hips, my thighs. My eyes burn like icy fire.

Chills race up my spine. I look tough. Dangerous, even.

I didn’t know I could look like that.

“We are invisible,” I say on the screen. “You don’t see us. You don’t know we exist. We are forgotten. But we do not forget you.”

Images flash across—photos from the interrogation of my parents, of Tommy’s parents; the footage my team captured of the weapons drop; of the secret meeting of Organization higher-ups; the suspicious financial sheets Sam procured at Levett Tech; the encoded shipment records; recordings Lisa captured of the Levett CCTV showing the Organization’s attack on me and Tommy in the records room, then their attack on me four nights ago.

All the while, I’m talking.

“We protect you. Every day, we shield you from dangers you can’t begin to imagine. Hunted, tortured, framed, and murdered, we endure. We act. For you.

“There is a terrorist group hidden in plain sight in Clearwater, New Hampshire. They have infiltrated the government-contracted weapons manufacturer called Levett Technologies so effectively, the government and even most workers at the facility don’t know they are there. This group of murderous criminals not only pass military-grade weapons to terrorists, they also develop dangerous tech to be used against the American people. They do all this under the nose of the government, undiscovered.

“Now they have developed a new threat, a bioweapon they plan to unleash on you only days from now. They have too much control, too many powerful people in high places. The government will not discover this threat until it is far, far too late.”

The screen cuts back to me.

“The magnitude of this attack is beyond what we, your forgotten protectors, can defend against. We cannot save you this time.

“You must save yourselves. Demand an investigation into Levett Technologies, into BioAgent 313. Put so much pressure on the government they have no choice but to uncover what lies hidden within Levett Tech. Do not delay. Time is short.”

The screen goes black.

There is a beat of total silence.

Then … whooping, cheering, yelling, clapping. People screaming in celebration, people shouting my name.

Sam’s arms are around me, and bodies are pressing in on me, and hands are raining down on my back, and voices are declaring me a hero. A huge, beaming smile breaks across my face.

We did it. We really did it!

“Look, Mel!” Lisa calls, pointing over the crowd at the screen, which now shows a summary of what is trending on the major social platforms.

Our video is climbing on every one of them. It’s been attached to the hashtag #bringdownlevetttech.

A thrill zaps through my chest.

It’s working! And that hashtag. They believe us!

I laugh, astonished as the number of likes and shares surge. We’re going viral. Already.

#bringdownlevetttech , they say. And now, #freetheforgotten .

That strangers would care, that they would choose to fixate on that part of my message … I dab at my eyes.

This is for you, Mom and Dad.

Looking for the one person I want to share my success with above all others, I search the blur of smiling faces around me, but Tommy isn’t here. My eyes skip to the back of the room. There’s only Cait, standing alone. Her oddly sad gaze locks with mine.

Worry pricks at me, but I push it aside. He’ll be okay. This is going to work, and when it does, he’ll see. The Organization will fall. He’ll finally be free.

And then, maybe, we can be together.

I turn my attention back to the screen, to the numbers shooting higher still, and I smile.

Get ready, Mr. Edwards. Here I come.