The Thrust Read online

Page 11


  Trent stood. “Let’s go,” he said, picking up Annie’s cane for her. “You’ll love Letliv. We eat well. We’re safe. And most importantly, we’re completely free. No tyrannical government.”

  Annie smiled sadly. “It sounds wonderful. But I can’t leave Evan alone here.”

  “Then we’ll get Evan, and then we’ll go,” Trent replied.

  “No. You’re coming back, right? To get us all. You need me here, to help talk to the women. To be one of the people who speaks the truth, because you can bet that when Lanche gets wind of this everything will be twisted around to lies.”

  “I’m not leaving you here,” Trent said.

  “Yes,” Annie said softly. “You are. Because it won’t be long before they start searching for who did this.” She gestured to all of the papers littered around the Tracks. “If you want a chance to come back and save everyone, you have to leave now.”

  Trent’s face was a mask of indecision. Clarissa knew he was debating picking his sister up and taking her with them whether she wanted to leave or not.

  But ultimately reason won out over emotion.

  “You always were too stubborn for your own good,” he said. He hugged her tightly. “I promise I’ll be back.”

  “And when you come back, I promise I’ll go with you,” she whispered. “Now hurry, leave! I can’t have anyone see you in here.”

  Clarissa stuck her head out of the car and nodded to Trent, who followed her. They blended in among the citizens, who were so engrossed in the papers that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere that they didn’t notice another soldier and another young woman walking briskly past them.

  Back to the hidden door.

  Back down the passageway.

  Back under the construction tape.

  Light a candle, and fifteen minutes of walking the labyrinth of Grand Central’s underbelly.

  Then they were free.

  Grand Central

  ANNIE

  Annie shook with excitement. Evan was right! They really had come back. And they were going to free them.

  The pamphlets were genius. They’d go a long way toward convincing the people to leave. Maybe even convince the soldiers to not fight them.

  Where was Evan? They had so much to talk about, to plan.

  She waited an hour before getting up, taking her cane with her. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d find him. After weeks of his constant companionship, it hurt that he’d ignore her now that he was a soldier.

  The walk back up to the main terminal seemed to take forever. Her leg, while mending nicely, still ached. Still, it was nothing compared to the raw pain she used to feel on a daily basis.

  Evan was standing along one of the walls, watching everyone. The Colonel always had his men keep their eyes and ears open for signs of dissent so he could quell it before it got out of hand.

  Yeah, like executing those women for even considering leaving the camp wasn’t “out of hand.”

  “Hi Evan,” she said softly as she walked by him.

  “Annie, I’m on duty.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Well, I have something to report to you, then,” she said. “Come to the Tracks.”

  “I can’t.”

  Why wouldn’t he look at her? What was wrong with him? “If you don’t come, then you’re not doing your job. Have you heard about the pamphlets?”

  Finally, he looked at her. “What? No. What are you talking about?”

  “Someone,” she said, as if she had no idea who,

  because people were listening, always listening

  “Someone put papers everywhere, with a message. Everyone on the lower levels is reading them now. You should come see for yourself.”

  Evan nodded and followed her. Was it her imagination, or was he walking as if he was in pain? His gait was as slow as her own, and she had a limp and a cane.

  Had those soldiers hurt him last night?

  That would explain a lot. Why he’d avoided her. Why he wouldn’t look at her.

  When they got back to her train car, she sat down with a sigh of relief, grateful to rest her leg.

  Evan picked up the paper and read it out loud softly.

  “‘You are being starved and abused under Colonel Lanche’s leadership.’ Oh my God,” Evan exclaimed. “Were they here?”

  Annie nodded. “Read it.”

  Evan’s hands trembled as he held the paper. “‘There is another way. Fight for freedom and liberty. You will be safe and will be able to feed and shelter yourselves. Soldiers: you can join us. Take off your uniform shirt and Don’t Shoot. Help us save lives, including your own.’ Holy shit,” he whispered. “‘Live and Letliv.’ What’s Letliv mean?”

  “Letliv is what they call their community. They pamphleted the Tracks. All the women have this,” Annie said. “But the soldiers need it too.”

  “Lanche will get everyone worked into a frenzy over this. Make it sound like terrorists are going to invade, to kill us,” Evan said. “And he’s gotten everyone so used to thinking they need him and the camp to survive. Do you really think the people will believe a piece of paper that says they can feed and shelter themselves?”

  “You and I both know this camp is a prison. We aren’t here voluntarily. If we tried to leave, we’d be shot, like those women. People know that’s not right. There’s no freedom here.”

  “So they were here? Barker? Jenna?”

  “No. Clarissa and my brother, Trent. There’s another stack of pamphlets. They need you to give them to soldiers somehow.” She paused. “Maybe while everyone’s asleep.”

  Evan laughed darkly. “Yeah, they all sleep like the dead. Nothing can wake them.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. She knew he wanted to look strong in front of her.

  “Colonel Lanche is a lying asshole,” Evan said. “He promised he’d call off Scar. He promised me.”

  “Oh, Evan,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” He spoke into her shirt. “Scar attacked me last night.”

  “Oh my God. Maybe you should tell the Colonel? After all, if the Colonel gave him an order, and Scar disobeyed, maybe Scar would be punished.”

  “I doubt it. Besides . . . even if there was justice around here, I wouldn’t have a case.”

  “Why not?” she cried angrily. “He hurt you.”

  “I . . . I never told him no. I didn’t tell him to stop.” Evan looked at her, tears brimming in his eyes.

  Annie wished he still had his shaggy hair so she could run her fingers through it, comfort him somehow, but the army had taken his hair along with his innocence.

  “You survived by doing what felt safest in the moment,” Annie said. “I’ve been there. I know. That doesn’t mean he didn’t attack you.”

  “One good thing came out of it,” Evan said. “A soldier named Hernandez came up to me this morning. Told me he hated Scar, that Scar had raped his girlfriend on the Tracks. Told me he heard what happened but was too scared to do anything.”

  “Maybe he won’t be so scared when he sees these pamphlets,” Annie said. She handed him the stack of papers from under her mattress. “Sees we have help on the outside. If Hernandez knows bad things are happening, and wants it to end, there have to be others. Other soldiers.”

  “Okay,” Evan said, putting the papers inside his shirt. “I’ll wait till they’re sleeping and put them out. Everyone will see them for themselves.”

  “But Lanche will be talking about this tonight, for sure,” Annie said. “He’ll poison their minds.”

  “Not everyone thinks Lanche is God,” Evan said. “Not everyone obeys him because they think he’s right, or good. They do it because they’re scared, I think. Like . . . like me.”

  He looked down at his hands. “Last night . . . it was a really fucked-up way to lose my virginity.”

  Annie shook her head vehemently. “It doesn’t count, not to me. He
attacked you, raped you. It’s not like you had a sexual experience.”

  He laughed. “I’ve never had a sexual experience, then. I was still looking for a prom date when the Pulse hit.”

  Annie grinned. “You’re so handsome. I bet you could have had any girl you wanted.”

  “I only want one,” Evan said.

  She felt honored that he thought of her that way. She was twenty-three, too old for a barely-turned-eighteen-year-old boy, but he was more mature than most of the men at the camp.

  “I would have gone to the prom with you,” she said. “If I knew you before the Pulse.”

  He laughed, and it was so good to see him look happy again. To help ease his pain. “Yeah right.”

  “It’s true. I always had a thing for Justin Bieber. You kinda looked like him, before the shaved head.”

  His cheeks turned pink. “I’ve heard that before. Most recently from Colonel Lanche, who said I ‘look like a boy band.’ ”

  “Sorry,” Annie said quickly. “I take it back.”

  And then Evan surprised the hell out of her by placing the most gentle kiss she’d ever had on her cheek.

  “I wish I knew you in better circumstances,” Evan said.

  “Don’t bunk with the soldiers tonight,” Annie said. “Don’t be there if Scar comes looking for you. Come stay with me, after you distribute the pamphlets.”

  Evan nodded. “I will. Annie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you . . . will you ever be able to look at me as a man, and not as just some abused kid?”

  “You are stronger than you think you are,” she said. “And to me, you have always been a man. You’ve survived things that other men couldn’t, and it’s made you stronger.”

  She kissed his lips, to show him she meant it.

  What she didn’t expect was the jolt of heat that lit up within her at his touch. It had been too long since she’d experienced joy.

  Traveling back to Letliv

  TRENT

  THEY’D found the supply truck haphazardly hidden behind a stinking pile of trash. It had been emptied out, the cab was unlocked, the keys in the fold-down shade.

  Were they so sure that no one would dare steal one of their vehicles that they didn’t even bother to secure them? It was unbelievable. He wondered if the other two vehicles were similarly unguarded. If they were, they could use them all as getaway cars later.

  They drove together, fast as they could, until they reached their Chevy truck.

  When they reached the car wash where they’d stashed the truck, Trent whooped with excitement, lifting Clarissa up in the air and twirling her around as if they’d found a pot of gold.

  “Easy there, soldier,” she laughed.

  “Ugh. Don’t call me that.” He stripped off the shirt, leaving only the white undershirt he wore underneath, and threw the uniform top into his pack. “I was so worried someone might have stolen our ride,” he said. “God knows I would, if I came across an abandoned, working truck.”

  “Um, you mean, you did steal a working truck when you came across it,” Clarissa laughed.

  Trent laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Well, we hid our truck well. And everything went perfectly, exactly as planned. We had guardian angels watching over us today.”

  He opened the door for her and helped her inside. “What?”

  “I said we had guardian an—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “You said it went exactly as planned, but it didn’t. We didn’t get my sister out! That was the most important part.”

  Clarissa shook her head. “The important part was distributing the pamphlets. And now we have both Annie and Evan working for us on the inside. That’s even better than what you’d planned.”

  Trent wished he could agree with her, because logically, it made sense. But seeing his sister, hugging her, knowing she was okay, and then not being able to take her home—that was the worst way to end an otherwise successful mission.

  “Ready to go?” he asked. “We have over a hundred miles.”

  “We won’t be able to do it in the dark,” Clarissa said, pointing at the sun as it lowered in the sky. “Do you think we should spend the night here, and drive back in the morning?”

  Fuck. They had another two hours until nightfall, easily, but driving was slow-going due to all the stalled cars and obstacles. It could take them hours to get home, and if it was pitch-black outside they might get into an accident.

  “We have to decide which is riskier, then,” he said. “Staying here when Lanche might search the area, or driving and possibly getting stuck on the road at night?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. We’re hidden. We’re not in Manhattan. I think it might be riskier to drive at night. But if we go, we should go now. We can’t afford to waste any daylight.”

  Trent sighed. Driving the two trucks was going to be stressful enough without worrying about racing the clock. “Let’s sleep in the Chevy and head out at daybreak.”

  “No, wait,” Clarissa said. “We should go. They might be looking for us.”

  “If they’re looking for us, they’ll be looking on the road. And they won’t find us, because we’ll be hidden away, in here.” He grinned, glad to have settled the matter, and climbed into the driver’s-side seat.

  “Okay.” Clarissa sat on the passenger seat, pulled her sneakers off and her socks, and rested her feet on the dash. “My feet are killing me from all that walking earlier.”

  “Here,” he said, and took her feet off the dashboard, putting them on his lap. “Let me help.”

  With slow, strong movements, he rubbed her delicate arches, enjoying the way she moaned with pleasure.

  “That feels so good,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “I like to make you feel good by rubbing parts of your body,” Trent teased.

  Clarissa opened her eyes and gasped, as if shocked by his dirty sense of humor. “I bet you do!”

  “I do.” He pulled her onto his lap and pushed her hair out of her face. “Ahh. There you are.”

  “Do I look like me?” she asked, and he could feel an underlying worry in her question. He never should have had sex with her when he was missing Karen, not when she looked so much like her.

  But today, today she’d been all Clarissa. Even in her disguise, the strength she showed by breaking back into the very place she’d had to fight to get out of reminded him that it was Clarissa on his lap.

  “Yes,” he said. “You look like you. It’s in your eyes.”

  “Then I won’t close them,” she said, and kissed him.

  It was intense, kissing without closing his eyes. He liked it. He liked seeing her, all of her.

  She pulled her sweatshirt off, revealing her pale breasts. Her hand went to her neck, as it often did, and then she took her nipple between her fingers and offered it to him with a smile.

  “God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, taking her nipple in his mouth.

  He sucked hard, nibbling her tender peak until she moaned, running her hands over his shaved head.

  “You were amazing today,” he whispered against her breast. He nibbled gently and she gasped, arching into his mouth.

  “You were too.” Her hands found their way to his pants, and she struggled to open his fly. “Let me.”

  He laid back, resting his head on the worn material of the seat, and watched her as she repositioned herself so her head was on his lap.

  His cock was so hard, and a drop of pre-come wet the cotton shorts he wore underneath the uniform. Clarissa took him in her mouth and he groaned at the intense sensation.

  Her tongue flicked around the head of his cock, lapping at him like a kitten. Then she sucked it, making him grip the steering wheel tightly as the pleasure ricocheted through him.

  “Fuck, you’re good,” he said.

  “And you’re tasty.” She looked up at him and smiled, so sweetly.

  He couldn’t lose this girl. Couldn’t lose her—
<
br />   “Oh, fuck,” he moaned as she took hold of his length.

  “I want you in me. Can I ride you?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. No longer the shy woman who winced when he went near her. No. Now, she was taking charge.

  And he kinda liked it.

  Her hips shimmied as she pulled off her pants, her panties. He picked up the panties and put them to his face, inhaling her scent.

  “These are wet,” he said.

  “I know.” Clarissa laughed, a slight blush rising from her beautiful breasts, as if her own arousal embarrassed her. But then she straddled him, sliding onto his cock with slow, deliberate thrusts.

  “Oh my God,” he said, and let go of the steering wheel so he could take hold of her hips, to push her up and down her cock at the frenzied pace he needed so desperately.

  “Put your hands back on the steering wheel,” she said. “No, wait. Better yet . . . put them on your head.”

  Trent almost refused, but why? Why not let her take the lead when it was a role she obviously wanted—needed—to play?

  “Okay.” He laced his hands behind his head, surprising himself when his fingers touched stubble instead of the full head of hair he was used to.

  Shaved head. Right.

  Maybe that’s what this was about. He looked like a soldier—and she needed to take charge of their sexual experience because of it. Fine by him.

  But God—she was torturing him so deliciously with her slow movements.

  She gyrated on him, taking just the tip of his cock, teasing him, before sliding onto him, then off.

  “Let me touch you,” he begged.

  “Hands on your head, soldier,” she said.

  This time, he didn’t correct her. Didn’t tell her not to call him that. He watched as she used him for her pleasure, writhing on his lap until her body clenched around him.

  “Please,” he gasped. “Faster.”

  “Uh-uh. My way or the highway.” Clarissa leaned over and kissed him to soften her words, but for some reason he was aroused by them. Aroused by her intensity.

  She rode him easily, rocking back and forth so his cock hit her inside exactly where she wanted it.