Free Enemy Inside (Defectors Trilogy) by Tarah Benner

building ended and the other began.
    Finally, the destruction gave way to a small, crumbling road leading to the highway. There were no working streetlights, and the guardrails were warped and rusted from years of neglect. We were getting close. My limbs thrummed with the anticipation of freedom. Once we got out of Sector X, everything would be fine. At least that was what I told myself to keep my feet moving.
    We followed the road to a derelict overpass covered in a washed-out rainbow of graffiti. This was the point on the map Godfrey had marked. I squinted, searching frantically for the tunnel.  
    Between the darkness and my fatigue, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was not a tunnel, but rather a solid wall half-hidden behind a thicket of overgrown tree branches. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the crumbling stone entrance to the tunnel was sealed with bricks.  
    My heart sank. We stood there, taking it all in, and I felt the prickle of tears in my throat once again.  
    How could Godfrey have sent us here? How could he have made such a huge mistake? The faded neon profanities told me the tunnel had been sealed long before the PMC evacuated Manhattan. It had been our only option for escape.
    The Sector X Expressway was destroyed in the riots, and now the only way in or out of the city was through the main bridge. We were trapped here.
    The scream of a siren broke through my misery. I looked up to see a PMC cruiser on the overpass. Whoever was inside had spotted us. They knew I had helped Amory escape.
    “Run!” I yelled.
    We tore back through the demolished alley the way we came, crisscrossing through the streets. I quickly lost track of where we were. All I could think was to make it as difficult as possible for them to find us.
    I could still hear the siren, and I was reminded of running from the PMC with Greyson.  
    I forced my mind elsewhere. It couldn’t be like that again. I was stronger now — smarter. I wouldn’t let them take Amory.
    Snow was beginning to fall, and it stuck to my face and eyelashes. I blinked away the heavy flakes, not feeling the cold anymore.
    It was difficult to tell where the PMC cruiser was. I could still hear the wail of the siren, but the sound reverberated off the rubble and sounded strangely far away.  
    Stumbling across the street, I glanced over my shoulder for Amory, but he was frozen on the corner, staring upward. I followed his gaze to a burnt-out stoplight. Mounted on top, its beady black dome swiveling onto Amory, was an ID rover.
    Amory fell to his knees in the snow, holding his head in his hands and trying to stifle his cries of pain. I ran over to him. Panic pounded through my veins, clouding my judgment.  
    His face was screwed up with pain again, but this time, the pain seemed to have progressed more quickly. Learning of his escape, the PMC had increased the intensity of the signal.
    “Amory,” I whimpered. “Get up. You have to move. If we get you out of range, the pain will stop.”
    Folding in on himself, Amory hid his face in his hands. I knew he didn’t want me to see the tears there. He was rocking back and forth, shaking and struggling for air as if he were having an asthma attack.
    Along the back of his neck, an angry red patch like a burn mark had appeared.
    Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I grasped him beneath the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His legs were shaky, so I wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged him. I tried pulling him across the street away from the rover, but he yelled and swung back at me, and I knew there must be another in range. I changed direction down the street. He was struggling in earnest now, but we couldn’t go back.
    I could hear the sirens approaching. They were definitely closer now. I felt trapped — unable to move in any direction without causing Amory more pain. He was fully doubled over, clutching his head between his hands.  
    There was only one way to go: through the range of