Infraction Read Online Free PDF Page A

through the trees and out of the
darkness, two trucks with tall sides and lots of wheels wait for
us. There are also a dozen soldiers all with their guns pointed at
our heads. I immediately throw my hands to the air, my legs
wobbling underneath me. We walked right into their trap.
    “It should have been broken up,” Jack whispers. I
look at him and raise my eyebrows.
    “Silence!” One of the soldiers turns toward us.
    “If it had been an abandoned road, it wouldn't have
been so well maintained.”
    That explains the alarms that had gone off in my
head, why I knew immediately that something wasn't right. I keep
telling myself I'll figure these things out the longer I'm on the
Burn, that these obvious things will make sense. Some consolation
that is right now.
    One of the trucks faces away from us, its headlights
shining into the distance, offering faint illumination in the
clearing. All the soldiers are dim silhouettes against the light.
From behind the line of soldiers, a short man in a charcoal suit
and black tie steps out. An agent. They all wear those immaculate
suits. He motions quickly with his right hand, and two soldiers
step forward—one at me and one at Jack. They flick their guns
quickly to the left, and we step that way toward the other
truck.
    “Stop!” one of the soldiers barks. The soldier uses
an iron hand to force me to my knees. “Hands behind your head!” he
snaps. I thread my fingers behind my head and he clamps metal
around both my wrists. He trains his gun on me.
    I close my eyes, seeing nothing but red nightmares.
Nightmares of firelight flickering over trees, of a circle of us
gathered at mealtime. Of the stranger that steps through that
circle, and brings nothing but terror with him. Of the way the gun
feels in my hand when it discharges. The soldiers' guns bring on
the nightmares. I can't ever look at a gun or even think of one
without the visions of blood coming back. I even think I smell
gunpowder on my hands. It's all too real how much destruction I
alone have caused with one of them. I want the soldier and his gun
as far away from me as possible, but I can't move. I can only kneel
here on the ground like I'm bowing before the agent in reverence.
The bile rises in my throat.
    The agent puts something in his mouth. Then his eyes
flash as the other truck's lights turn on, and I'm suddenly
blinded. I turn my head. When I force my eyes open again, the agent
has stepped forward. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he
studies Jack and me. His breath comes out in shallow puffs, hang
there a moment in the cold, and then melt away. I don't want to
look at him—I don't want him studying me, prying into my brain with
his sharp eyes—but I can't turn away.
    “Nomads,” he says with a smile. “It's a good night
for nomads.”
    I don't know what that means, but the way he says it
sends shivers over me.
    “The cities were set up to protect the citizens of
New America. And while most citizens do follow the laws, I'm always
amazed at the number of nomads just wandering through the
wilderness as if you don't want the government's protection. Or
don't trust us.”
    I try to keep my face neutral, but I blink. My eyes
are too dry.
    His smile widens, baring glistening teeth. “Hmm.
Trust is always an issue. I shouldn't tell you this, of course, but
seeing as you have no future left, I think it's safe. The trust is
what we're working on.” He leans down lower, and I can smell mint
candy on his breath. “You'll be a good girl and help us with that.”
He reaches for me, and I turn my head. He chuckles and pats my
cheek.
    I've only seen an agent one other time, at the med
drop, and that woman was a kitten compared to this man.
    “Into the trucks with them,” he growls.
    The soldiers spring at us. One grabs my arms and
wrenches me to my feet. My shoulders blaze with pain, and I bite
back a whimper. The soldiers and that agent will get no
satisfaction from hearing me cry. My only consolation is