Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

safer, but gives no privacy away from the ever-present staff and personal guard detail.

“Peter, we need to talk to you about something.” Patrick’s head snaps up, but Peter keeps watching the chickens squawk and tussle over the crust bits he’s tossing into the yard.

“Lay it on me, baby sister. Wait, no mushy stuff, right?” He cringes and then keeps tossing bread.

“No, it’s serious, though.” Patrick grimaces, but nods for me to continue.

My tone must convey the import, because he tosses the last hunk of bread and wipes his hands before turning his chair to face mine. “Okay, what’s up?”

I start at the beginning, with Josephine getting hauled out of the announcement back at the NLC. By the time I get to the part about finding the medical facility in the forest, his face is blanched white, and his hands are clasped so tightly in front of him I think he might break something.

“Sweet Jesus in heaven” is all he says for a long moment after I finish the story. He looks to Patrick, whose grim expression matches mine. “How are they getting away with it? How can they . . .” He trails off and rubs one hand over his face wearily. “You said there’s more? More women, more facilities?”

Patrick is first to respond. “Yes, Glitch has a list of names and locations all over the continent. He’s trying to get in and get footage of what’s going on, but he hasn’t had any luck yet.”

“What are you planning to do with the footage? We can’t let this keep happening.” His expression turns thunderous. “Lord, poor Aisha’s been gone for years, hasn’t she? Her parents had a funeral, what, three years ago now? I was home on leave at the time, and I still remember thinking that they looked like ghosts.”

I nod, remembering the awful day well.

“We don’t have a solid plan yet, but we all agree we can’t stop this from inside the resort. I’m pretty sure our movements and conversations are being monitored. We have to get solid proof so no one can cover this up, and then figure out the best way to stop this without hurting anyone. We’ve got to get those women out, not get them killed in a cover up.”

“I know it seems logical, but that is going to be hard to pull off, given that I’m supposed to be guarding you with my team twenty-four-seven to keep the crazies at bay.” His voice is agitated as he continues, “To top it off, this cannot look like an escape attempt, or you could end up in a detention facility—or worse, one of these secret facilities—if you’re caught.”

“Well, we’ve got to figure something out. It makes my skin crawl every time I walk in the door of the guest house and everyone’s just hovering and smiling at us. Because I know it’s fake now. There are women exactly like me, who walked the same halls, drugged less than a mile away.” I rub my arms, the sudden chill making my skin pebble uncomfortably.

Peter rubs his face wearily again, but even having that much appalling information dropped into his lap, he doesn’t lose his composure. Instead, he snaps into action mode. He leans forward intently, forearms on knees, and his words fly out in a low staccato barrage.

“Okay, you’re going to have to leave. Fine. We can figure out an escape plan. But how do we ensure the safety of the group, and where are you going to go? There are only a few places in the NAA that might be a possibility. But now that you’ve done that interview and the whole country has seen the two of you . . . that poses a problem.”

I blow out a frustrated breath at the reminder of Candy’s unpleasant interrogation. Excuse me, interview.

Patrick breezes past that into the details. “I think Calivada. It’s the only central place where there’s already enough unrest to have loosened the NAA police’s hold.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean there’s unrest in Calivada? I haven’t seen anything about it on the news.”

Peter snorts. “Sadie, do you really think that NAA One would be allowed to report that? When things don’t go well for the politicians, they don’t exactly like that to be wide-spread knowledge.” He darts a glance at Patrick. “No offense. It’s just the facts.”

He waves off the slight. “None taken, I have no desire to be a politician. Ever since things started to collapse, non-essential jobs have declined rapidly to keep people trained as doctors and scientists and food producers. It made sense to only have one news outlet, but I won’t pretend that hasn’t been exploited over the last century.”

I probably shouldn’t be shocked at this revelation, but it never occurred to me that the media might be hiding things from us. It’s literally their job to inform us of things. If the news is run by politicians, how are we going to broadcast footage of the imprisoned women even if we get it?

“Back to Calivada—I think it’s a good choice. You might have to work on a disguise of some kind, but there are definitely fewer people there willing to call in the police to out you. Nobody wants us around out there,” Peter says, steepling his fingers together.

“Atlas is making some calls to some contacts he has out there, to see how we might best get out of here, and be hidden in plain sight. He’s done some jobs for some very influential people, and he thinks he might be able to get us a house to hole up in, at least until we make a more concrete plan.”

Peter nods. “It’s a good start. I can work with him on an exit strategy. How close is Glitch to getting that footage, do you think? This isn’t the kind of thing it’s good to sit on for long. Somebody always finds out.”

Patrick’s grimace says it all. “I’ve got bad news on that front. He’s hit some kind of