Free Warchild: Pawn (The Warchild Series) by Ernie Lindsey

was
coming.
    Hawkins betrayed us all.
    Inside me, that flicker of strength
that I’d lost back in our shack stands up and dusts itself off, preparing for
whatever comes next.
    Hawkins won’t get away with this.
    I won’t let him get away with
it. I’ll find a way. Somehow.
    Finn stumbles along beside me,
bleeding from his nose and mouth. Dirt coats one side of his face from where
they had him on the ground. He doesn’t look over to me. He stares straight
ahead and marches, obeying our captors’ commands, beaten and broken.
    We approach Hawkins and the officer.
Hawkins looks at me with a combination of pride and scorn, says, “This one,”
pointing at me, “she’s trouble. Keep her close. Good scout, though, one of the
best we’ve ever had. It’s almost a shame.”
    Somehow, the compliment makes it
worse. They didn’t tie me up like Finn, but the soldier behind me has such a
tight grip that there’s no chance of getting loose and clawing at Hawkins’s face
like I want to. I hated him before, but now, he absolutely disgusts me.
    How long had he known? Who told him
and when? He rarely left our encampment, preferring to sit on his porch and eat
while the rest of us made life possible. When did he turn and why?
    I peek over at Finn. Was it him? Had
he been sneaking into the encampment at night, secretly delivering messages to
our betrayer?
    No, it wasn’t possible. Aside from
the fact that it’s unlikely he would’ve gotten past any of the scouts, Finn
saved my life and risked his own to be here, to free himself of the DAV
confines. It couldn’t have been him. Before, I wasn’t so sure, but now I refuse
to believe it. I have to have something true in my life.
    The officer standing beside Hawkins
is short, not much taller than me, but he’s older than me by decades. His skin
is wrinkled and saggy around his cheeks and neck. His cap is tipped to the side
and underneath, I can see a thick swath of gray hair. His jowls wobble when he
speaks. “You think she’ll do it?” he asks Hawkins.
    Hawkins tilts his head back and
examines me. He sighs and says, “Doubtful, but it won’t matter if she doesn’t
have a choice.”
    “Do what?” I ask.
    “Captain Tanner here would like to
make you an offer.”
    The aging officer steps over to me,
slowly, with his hands behind his back. He looks down at my boots, and I follow
his eyes all the way upward until they meet mine. “Your name’s Caroline?”
    I don’t answer. He already knows
what it is and doesn’t deserve a response.
    “I suppose I already know what your
answer will be—and it’s a pity, really—Mr. Hawkins here—”
    Hawkins interrupts him with a
falsely polite, “ General Chief Hawkins…”
    “Do not interrupt me, sir.”
    Hawkins hangs his head and takes a submissive
step back.
    “Now, Caroline, my guess is you’ve
heard the phrase, ‘death before dishonor.’ Is that correct?”
    I shake my head. “But I can figure
out what it means.”
    “Right. Your friend here,” he says, glancing
around at Finn, “is a defector, so there’s no hope for him. But you, my
dear…Hawkins speaks very highly of your talents, and I hate to waste good
resources. They’re so rare these days. What I can offer you is this: join the
Democratic Alliance of Virginia as an enlisted scout, and you’ll live. You’ll
be fed three times a day, provided with a tent and a warm blanket, and the best
part is, you’ll be paid for your efforts. Have you ever even seen money,
Miss Caroline?”
    “No.”
    “Well, it’s quite fun when you have
enough of it. That’s my offer. Join us and be spared, or refuse and die. It’s a
simple choice, really, though I’d prefer you answer in the affirmative, given
the circumstances as they are. Rarity of talent, as it were.”
    I lean forward, straining against
the soldier’s arms holding me, and bare my clenched teeth. “Look around you,” I
say. “What do you think my answer is?”
    Captain Tanner smirks and scans the
muddy