Rise by Anna Carey

could grab my other wrist, I went for the knife in my belt. It took them a moment to process what was happening. Moss didn’t hesitate. He pushed all his weight backward, knocking the Lieutenant into the closet doors behind him. I heard the hollow sound the Lieutenant made, then his short intake of breath, as he struggled to get air.
    Moss ran toward me, his hands still bound together by the plastic tie, knocking one of the soldiers off balance. I pulled back, swiping at the other with the knife. As the soldier hunched over, the blood pooling inside his palm, we started through the door.
    Outside, the hall was empty. I clipped Moss’s restraints with the blade, and he shook out his hands to get the blood back into them. We started toward the end of the hall, to the stairwell just around the corner. “There are two soldiers stationed there,” I said. “Possibly more.”
    I could see his slight hesitation as we ran instead toward the elevators. The door to the suite opened, the Lieutenant appearing at the other end of the hall. I saw his gun before Moss did. Moss dove for the elevator button, looking straight ahead, not bothering to turn. The shot hit him in the back, tearing through the tender spot between his shoulder blades. He staggered forward, then folded in on himself. He pressed his side into the wall, trying to stay standing.
    The Lieutenant raised his arm again just as the elevator doors opened. I grabbed Moss beneath his arms and dragged him inside, struggling against his weight. When I looked up Charles was there, his fist closing around the Lieutenant’s shirt, pulling his wrist back and away. When the gun went off it hit the wall beside us, tunneling into the metal. The last thing I saw was Charles’s face, his features twisted and strange, as he fought the Lieutenant for his weapon.

fourteen
    I WAS AFRAID TO TURN MOSS OVER, WORRIED THAT MOVING him might cause more damage. The wound in his back barely bled. Instead his lips lost color and his chest swelled, as if he were taking one long, permanent breath. I undid the top buttons of his shirt and took his tie off, trying to create space for air. His mouth opened and shut, again and again, slower each time, like a fish without water.
    It felt surreal, like a strange scene I was witnessing but not a part of. I tried to breathe into his lungs, as I’d seen at School when one of the younger girls had had a seizure. Nothing worked. The bullet had entered in the center of his back, breaking something inside him.
    By the time we reached the bottom of the tower Moss was dead. I knew I had to leave, but I couldn’t pull my fingers from his wrist, as if his pulse would return if I held them there long enough. I felt the cold dampness in his palms. I noticed the way his eyes stayed open, his limbs tense and still. When I finally started out of the elevator, I waited until the doors closed behind me, locking his body inside.
    I kept my eyes down as I passed the row of soldiers by the entrance. The Palace workers still hovered just beyond the glass, watching as the last prisoners were executed. I pulled the sweater around my hands, trying to hide the blood smeared on my skin. I had minutes, if that, before they were all alerted, before the Lieutenant was at the base of the tower, searching the main road.
    I wound down the long driveway, moving south until I reached the street. I kept imagining what would’ve happened if we had turned right, not left, out of my father’s suite, if I had been the one who reached the elevator doors first. What did it mean for the Trail with Moss gone, how would the—
    â€œEve—stop!” a familiar voice yelled. “I’ve been calling you. Why didn’t you turn around?” I flinched as Clara’s hand came down on my wrist.
    Her face was a mess of tears, the tip of her nose light pink. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked. She glanced behind me, where