Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter Nine: Ask What You Want

It made me reach toward my backpack strap, hard enough to swing it back around and grab my knife all over again. When Broden handed it to me, I took it as a sign. He still didn't want me to trust Noah, and I was mad at myself for even attempting to reason with the boy.

"Don't think I won't do it again," I threatened.

"I hope you do."

I glared at him through the darkness, but I felt like I was glaring at someone else entirely—Nate Harper, an innocent military student. "What's with your attitude?" I bit back.

His smile only grew. "Coming from you, that's an ironic question."

"Can you stop deflecting everything I ask you? Please?"

He stopped in his tracks, and I had to mirror him to look him in the eye. His brow creased, and for the first time, I noticed the slight sweat on his hairline. He was worn out. "I can do my best," he said after a moment, "but I honestly can't tell you everything. Not yet."

Yet. The word stuck out.

"I'll answer what I can." He kicked the ground, then strode forward, slowly this time. "So, ask what you want," he dared.

I knew I had to start small. That's how successful interrogations began. You had to build a bond first. Make them think you would only touch important topics, and then get them to invite you into their disaster.

"How did you get out anyway?" I asked, reaching out to pinch his sage coat. Only then did I realize I'd touched him. He didn't react. I slowly let go, but kept my eyes on where my hand had landed. The fabric was wrinkled, somehow the only disheveled inch. But it fit him. An ounce of imperfection on his practiced stance was the reason the coat suited him at all. Most people looked sickly in the greenish hue. In fact, if it weren't for the forest, I would've hated the color green. It represented everything in the State that I hated. The monopolization of lumber. Consolidated wealth. The fortress of funds. But it was also the trees in my backyard, my fortitude, my sanctuary.

"Starting small, aren't you?" he asked. "Getting out is easy. It's allowed. Getting back in after curfew—and before they notice your absence—is the hard part."

"So, how do you plan on getting back in?"

"I know someone."

"Who?"

He hesitated. "Tasia," he admitted a name. "She's one of the night watchers."

The information wasn't something I could take lightly. He had revealed a comrade, someone I could expose with a simple call to the police. He had told me something that could get another person killed, but the fear came from something else entirely. Tasia, whoever she was, had to be a government worker. It seemed like everyone was in on it somewhere.

"Does she know who you are?" I asked as my property appeared on the shadowy horizon. I'd recognize those crooked trees anywhere.

"Not exactly." Noah surveyed the same land where we met. "To some people, it doesn't matter who I am. It just matters what I'm doing."

"And what, exactly, are you doing?"

"I can't tell you that."

Somehow I wasn't surprised. Still, I couldn't help but cross my arms.

"But I will," he added.

My hope leapt. "When?"

"Once I get permission."

"From?"

"From someone I deeply respect." Annoyance danced across his features. "It wouldn't be my business to tell you without asking him first."