Revolution- Runaways 3 [EDITING]

Chapter 22: Peyton

It was three weeks later, and we still couldn't convince Skye to tell us the location. We had tried almost every tactic possible, until we resorted to limiting her rations to a glass of water and a slice of bread. That was three days ago. If she didn't cave today or tomorrow, we would be faced with a difficult decision. Either we would federally arrest or even execute her for treason, which was further proven after teams had successfully hacked into Skye's flip phone and found concrete evidence, or we switch tactics again.

I was thankful that decision wasn't resting on my shoulders.

Alex, Anderson, and I were seated in the lounge area. Alex had flipped the television on to see what news they were running about us today. For some reason, we had never cycled out of the media. The last breakout we had administered was Littlerock, and after its near failure, Red Shield had been too intimidated to attempt another one of their own.

"Clearly the public wants answers," Anderson pointed out.

He was right. The headline on the screen read "parent of abducted child wants to know the reason for capture." A large woman with graying hair and giant purple glasses stood on the front lawn of the statehouse in Sacramento, wiping angry tears from her eyes as she spoke to the reporter.

She described her seventeen-year-old son who had disappeared six months ago. The police had refused to look into his case and had deemed it teen suicide. She had refused to believe them, because her son had a high reputation as the happiest, smartest, and friendliest senior at his small high school. But she had been told a week ago that he was safe in Crescent City, which was where we had decided to send the teens from Blue Lake.

Her voice was thick with emotion as she begged someone, anyone, to stand up to the government because people needed to know why. Why would their country take their own offspring from under their noses?

"I wish there was something more that we could do," I stated. "We've been sitting on our butts for over three weeks now. These kids are still suffering in the remaining camps."

Alex nodded. "I know. We can't do anything until we take care of Red Shield though."

The name made me want to punch something. I had taken up the habit of going to the facility's gym until my knuckles were raw from the punching bag. I wasn't the kind of person that could just let this kind of stuff sit idly on a shelf. I had to do something about it, and when I couldn't, it made me angrier than almost anything.

"Don't even speak that name," I grumbled. "I don't even want to think about them right now. They're killing hundreds of kids as we speak." Abby, the CCSA's contact that had been feeding us information from Red Shield, had ceased communication completely over two weeks ago. She was confirmed dead last week. It only further proved my point.

"Exactly," he agreed. "That's why we're handling them first. And we can't progress any further until we know where their headquarters are located. Skye won't tell us, their website is too deeply encrypted, and the investigators working on it can't even get a lead."

I knew he was speaking the truth, but I still wanted to clamp my hands over my ears. I sighed.

"We're all frustrated Peyton," Anderson remarked.

I shook my head. "I'm going downstairs." The gym was on the bottom floor. I had seen enough of the news for one day.

Before I could even get off the couch, Alex grabbed my hand. "Your knuckles are bleeding Peyton. Do something else."

"No." I jerked my hand from his grasp and headed toward the elevator, despite the protests from both of them. I shuddered at the thought of more kids, my own age even, dying when I could do something about it. Except no one here would let me lift a goddamn pinky to help. We were stuck in a rut, and we hadn't had any breakthroughs since Skye's interrogation. At least Red Shield couldn't track us here. They were probably just as stuck as we were.