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rule. The only united country I want to see is one without him in it. I should have known how he’d twist everything—broadcasting that the Order barely held us off, that Taem had been just moments away from annihilation at our hands.”
    Another lie. Another brilliantly altered tale Frank passed off as fact. And now . . . with the water . . .
    He’s always had enough. Years of water rationing just helped him create a constant state of uncertainty. It gave civilians another reason to rely on the Order and never leave the safety of a dome. The world outside might have been deadly once—during the War, when the West’s virus spread rampant—and Frank’s made sure that fear never died.
    â€œSo if the Compound isn’t a water treatment facility, what is it?” I ask.
    â€œThat’s exactly what we want you to find out. If you’re willing to take the job.”
    A handful of problematic details surface: how far we are from the place, the way it’s surrounded by water and heavily fortified, Isaac’s comment about the number of guards patrolling it night and day.
    Vik senses my hesitation and goes into compassion mode.“I understand your concern. Truly, I do. It’s a lot for us to ask, but we wouldn’t ask at all if we didn’t think it could mean something huge for our side.
    â€œWe’ll arrange transportation for you and assign a specialist to guide the team. But Frank—the Order—is up to something there. We need to learn what, and plan our defenses accordingly. Maybe we can even use whatever he’s hiding to our advantage.”
    Blaine and Sammy glance sideways at each other, looking skeptical.
    â€œThis idea that the Compound is more than the Order lets on . . . ,” Bree says. “Where did it come from?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Adam looks insulted, like Bree’s questions are a personal attack on his character.
    â€œI mean,” she drawls, “if we’re heading to a seemingly unbreachable location and being asked to breach it, you had better tell us what led you to believe it’s worth checking out.”
    â€œSome of our spies on the Gulf have been suspicious of the place for a while,” Vik says. “They claim boats come in and out, but not frequently enough to be handling mass provision shipments of drinking water.” Vik pushes another photo across the table, this time of a man I’ve never seen. “That’s one of our best spies, Nicholas Bageretti. Sells water to AmEast under the alias Badger . He says he’s found a way in.”
    For me, it’s enough. More than enough.
    Clipper and Sammy don’t hesitate when I tell them to get ready. Even Bree refrains from being difficult. But Blaine has yet to pack a single possession.
    â€œI think it’s a death wish,” he says as I toss clothes into a bag.
    â€œI think it’s a great lead.”
    He stops pacing between the bunks. “A lead? How? Vik’s asking us to approach a heavily patrolled area and stick our noses inside. I bet all we find is a bunch of weapons and war provisions. I don’t see how that can help us.”
    I take a deep breath and squeeze the handle of Pa’s carving knife, pressing the etched shape of our last name— Weathersby —into my palm.
    â€œWe blow the place up. Or steal the supplies. Sabotage it. It doesn’t matter what we do so long as it’s some sort of setback for the Order.”
    â€œWe’re not prepared. The whole thing is—”
    â€œBlaine!” I turn on him, let his name come out of me like a whip. “Look,” I say as evenly as possible. “Badger claims he knows a way in, and Vik is going to exploit that with or without us. If we don’t take the job, he’ll just send someone else. This is our chance to do something. Be a part of the big strike he’s planning.”
    â€œThe strike he’s planning but