Jamison

WE START SEEING THE WANTED POSTERS AROUND Columbia, South Carolina. Scattered on the ground or stapled to trees and utility poles, tucked under the windshield wipers of abandoned cars like take-out menus. There are even two white billboards with the same text as the posters painted in dark red or black—some of the words misspelled.

There are probably more in Georgia. Maybe even a few going up I-95.

We end up camping in Orangeburg, South Carolina, for two days, and the longer we stay put, the more anxious I get. Denton has become the main source of intel for Cal. He’s spent most of the past few days describing the layout of Fort Caroline, drawing crude maps, and explaining the ins and outs of the community.

I listen as often as I can, trying to distract myself from wondering if Andrew is okay back in Faraway and also trying to figure out what exactly Cal’s plan is. So far it’s been nothing concrete. At least for me. They’ve been taking people aside, giving them all tasks. The guy from the back of the RV came to me after he got his. He’s supposed to find out where Fort Caroline is doing army training and see if he can join up. From there he’ll start asking around to figure out who’s most dissatisfied with Fort Caroline.

This whole mission could take months. I’m getting even more nervous because I have no idea how the hell they plan to keep me alive for that long. Or what Niki and the other people of color are going to do. We only saw white people in Fort Caroline while we were there, so best-case scenario is they say Niki and the others can’t stay. I’d feel better knowing Niki isn’t in danger.

Finally I get tired of worrying and waiting around for Cal to tell me what his plan for me is—because it was his plan; he was the one who came to me with this, and he’s the one in charge. I go over to the RV and open the door, climbing up into it. He’s sitting at the dining table with three others.

“I want to know what the plan is,” I say. “I’m sick of waiting.”

Cal nods. “Of course. We were going to come get you tonight, but since you’re here, this is what we’ve planned so far.”

He points to some maps and papers on the table. The map is ripped out of a book on the table called Georgia Atlas and Gazetteer, then taped together and marked up with boundaries and some color-coded routes.

“Our plan is to just go through the front door.” Cal points to a red-outlined road. “Your friend Denton says there’s a toll plaza that they turned into a security checkpoint. We’ll tell them we’re looking to join up with them and say we have you as a show of good faith.”

My stomach tightens with anxiety. “So I’m your bait.” It’s not that I thought I’d be given a prosthetic nose and wig and told to pretend I’m someone else, but it’s still a terrifying notion. Bait doesn’t usually survive.

“Were you expecting something else? We’re open to suggestions.” He looks at me but, honestly, I don’t. I doubt most Fort Caroliners would really recognize me, but Danny Rosewood won’t have forgotten my face.

“What if they just kill me right there?”

“They won’t,” Kevin says. “And if they try to, we’ll stop them.”

“Denton says morale is at an all-time low,” Cal says. “At least it was when he left a couple months back, and places like this, they don’t usually get much better. They need little moments of hope and joy—maybe an ice cream day or a rock star shows up and agrees to sing a couple hymns in church on Sundays for some extra food. If their leader’s been looking for you so hard, he’s gonna want to use you as an example. One of the morale-boosting moments of joy. ‘We got the bad guy! Sure, he’s a kid, but we got him!’ And they’re going to want to keep that rolling for as long as they can, so it’s in their best interest to give you a lengthy trial. Something for all the old ladies to gossip about.”

“Cal’s going to use you to get close to Rosewood. Put a bug in his ear about all the above and make sure he’s on the same page.”

“What if he isn’t?” I ask.

Cal frowns. “Look, you know there’s an element of danger here, yeah?”

“Yeah, but dying wouldn’t be ideal for me.”

“It’s not ideal for any of us,” Cal says. “But we’re risking our lives, too. Look, if you don’t want to be involved, you can leave. We don’t need you as bait; they’ll let us in regardless. But you can’t have any other role in this, because if they find out who you are, we all go back to square one in terms of gaining their trust.”

Of course I can leave, but then I wouldn’t know what happens in Fort Caroline. And I especially want to know what happens to Danny Rosewood.

I want to stop him from ever hurting someone else again.

“What about Niki and the other people of color who are with us? Has Denton told you about the lack of diversity in Fort Caroline?”

“He has, but according to him, they’ve never turned anyone away, and they don’t kill anyone because of the color of their skin. It’s more aggressively making those folks feel unwelcome.”

That doesn’t make me feel better.

“Unwelcome how?”

He looks at me like I’m being dense, and he’s right—I do know exactly how they’d do that. It was similar in the mainly white, conservative town near my mom’s cabin.

“Just tell me you have a plan to keep them safe.”

“Niki is coming into town with us. She says she wants to, and I know she can take care of herself. I’ve seen her do it. I’ve also seen Carlos, Helena, and William take care of themselves, and I know they can handle it.” He points to a wooded area on the map by the highway. “But if it makes you feel better, anyone who feels they’re actively being targeted—regardless of the color of their skin—there’s going to be a group here camping and waiting for us. Denton says no one takes the road next to it, so it’s the safest place. And they’re our backup if things get bad.”

I stare at the atlas. It’s not a foolproof plan by any means. But I do want to check with Niki one last time before we get too close. She still has time to turn around and go home if she wants.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m in. But if it looks like they’re about to kill me before Rosewood is killed, I’m doing what I can to take him out.”

Cal laughs. “Trust me, he’ll be taken out before anyone even thinks of killing you.”

“I don’t mean taken out of power; I mean killed.” I watch the men’s faces, trying to decipher their looks, making sure they understand it’s important that Rosewood dies. If I die doing this, I can’t let him come after anyone else.

But they all just nod.

“Understood,” says Cal. “We’re just finishing up, anything else you want to add?”

“No. Thanks.”

“Get some sleep, everyone,” he says, rolling up the maps and stacking the papers. We all leave the RV, and I go over to my sleeping bag, where Niki is waiting for me.

“They talked to you already?” I ask.

She nods. “I also spoke with Denton. I know how the people in Fort Caroline are, and I know what to expect. To be fair, I’m a Black woman who grew up in Arkansas. I know how to stay out of trouble. Even if other people are looking to put me in it.”

I nod. “I know you do. And I know this is your decision—”

She interrupts me. “Yes. And I like you, Jamie, but I’m not doing this for you. I don’t think Cal is either. I’m doing this for Jamar. Because when the last settlement tried to throw him in jail for keeping my grandma alive, and I took his place, I swore I’d do anything to protect him. And that means doing this. Making sure these people don’t find their way to Faraway.”

“In case no one told you recently, you’re a great sister.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Tell me that again when there’s a prize for it.” I laugh and she grows serious. “And, Jamison, tell me that again when we make it through this.”

I nod. She gets into her sleeping bag, and my eyes survey the camp for Denton, finding him sitting by a fire. He’s not talking to anyone, just watching the flames.

Then, as if he can feel my eyes on him, he looks up. I lie down quickly, pulling up my sleeping bag and closing my eyes.

The next day, we don’t get going until a little after noon. I’m back in the truck bed again and the cold wind whips around the winter coat I stitched together from the pieces Andrew and I found. Niki is next to me, nervously chewing at her chapped lips. I pull a knit cap down over my ears and bury my face against my knees.

At least it’s not raining.

My stomach is a sea of nerves. It hits me in waves, getting stronger and stronger the longer I sit in silence, like a tide coming in. I try to breathe deeply and purposefully. With the wind, it’s easier to let out the shuddering, nervous breaths without anyone hearing.

We stop five miles before the toll plaza, and Cal goes around and double-checks that everyone is prepared and still ready and willing to do this. He holds his gaze on me especially, and I nod.

“All right.” He grabs a strand of rope, like the kind we used on the boat back in the Keys. “Hop out, Liam’s swapping places with you. You’ll be in the cab with us the rest of the way.”

I jump out of the truck, and Liam moves behind me as Cal tells me to hold out my hands. He starts tying a knot.

“One thing I didn’t tell you about the plan,” he says.

My stomach tightens along with the knot around my wrist. This feels like a trap. I have no idea what Cal could want that Fort Caroline would give, but it could all be a ruse, a way to get some kind of reward for turning me in.

“What’s that?” I ask.

Cal sighs. “We gotta make it look real. You understand what I’m saying?”

My eyes drop to the rope around my wrists, then up to Cal. He cracks his knuckles and then I understand. I’ve only been in a fight once, in fourth grade, and it wasn’t even a real fight. It was one punch that I threw and an elbow to my face, and that was it before the recess aide ran over with her whistle. After that, I got a stern talking-to from my mom about fighting. And of course all the horror stories about people who thought they’d be fine throwing one punch and then that one punch hit just right and killed the person.

“It’ll be quick. Liam’ll hold you steady.”

Liam grabs my arms tightly and I close my eyes so I can’t anticipate the hit. It comes less than a second later, right in the center of my face. I feel my nose crack and blood flows instantly.

I cry out and my knees buckle, but Liam holds me steady.

“Hey!” Niki shouts from the back of the truck.

“One more,” Cal says.

Christ. I brace myself and the second hit comes, this one right into the side of my mouth. My lip splits and I bite my tongue as my jaw snaps shut. I spit out the blood and open my eyes. Cal is looking at my face as though he’s studying a painting in the Philly Museum of Art. I blink away tears as he nods.

“I think we’re good to go.”

“Wonderful.” I spit out more blood and glance back to see Niki still standing in the truck bed, looking concerned. I give her a quick nod as Liam helps me into the truck cab before climbing into the bed.

Now my head is pounding, and my stomach is still roiling with anxiety. I try to wipe my bloody nose on the rope, but it keeps dripping anyway.

“Tilt your head back,” the woman next to me says. I do it, but I feel the blood running down the back of my throat and it makes me gag. I try plugging the nostrils with my fingers and wince.

“I think my nose is broken,” I say.

“It’ll be fine,” Cal says.

“Right.”

We arrive at the toll plaza just after sundown. Cal slows the truck and the RV behind us follows suit.

“Denton said there’d be people here,” Kevin says from the passenger seat.

“Maybe there’s a shift change?” Cal says.

I lean over to look out the windshield. There’s no one at the toll booth. When Denton drove Andrew and me through last July, there were people with rifles stationed here.

“Something feels off,” Kevin says. “Let’s get Denton. The last thing we need is to drive into this place unannounced and get shot up.”

Cal puts the car in park and unbuckles his seat belt. “Yeah.”

Everyone gets out, and Cal even helps me out as well. He gets to the RV as Denton comes down the steps, but I hear Niki’s voice from the truck behind me.

“Look.” She’s pointing in the direction of Fort Caroline.

I turn and see several pillars of black smoke floating up from over the leafless trees.

Denton looks just as confused as everyone else. Cal turns back to him, then me. He unties my hands.

“Looks like we’re late to the party.”

Driving through Fort Caroline now feels so different. Eerier somehow. Buildings are burned and there are bullet holes in windows and the sides of disabled trucks. As we head farther into the town, the truck’s headlights drift over bloodstained asphalt. It’s clear that something big happened here and a lot of people died.

But I don’t see any bodies.

Cal stops the truck. Ahead of us, across the entire road, is a blockade of burnt cars. We get out again and walk toward the wreckage. The town is silent, but smoke still hangs in the air.

“Denton,” Cal calls out. He points to the wrecked cars in front of us. “Was this a barricade in case you guys were invaded or attacked?”

Denton shakes his head. “There were shelters set up, and units to protect each shelter. This wasn’t part of their plan.”

“Shelters where?” Kevin asks. He sets the maps on the hood of the truck.

As he speaks, Denton points out locations and cross streets. “The old library, sheriff’s department, the food depot . . .” He continues to point out several more, but something rustles in the park behind us.

I spin, bringing my gun up.

“What is it?” Niki asks. She raises her gun, too. It’s dusk, and the smoke in the air and the setting sun make it hard to see. The tree limbs are leafless, but the branches still cast shadows in the low light, and the brown grass and weeds are waist high.

“I heard something,” I say.

There’s another rustle and Niki flinches. “I heard it that time, too.”

“Cal!” I yell.

But it’s too late—a group of people leap from the grass, and even in the darkness I can see the guns pointed at us.

“Don’t move!” a woman shouts.

“Weapons down, hands up!” says another voice, this one from the other side of the truck behind us. I turn to see more people emerging from the shadows.

The blockade was a trap. And now we’re surrounded.