"I want to go with you."

We looked at each other. "Who said we were going anywhere?" June Bug asked.

Four Fingers's eyes took in the saddled horses. "You're escaping, aren't you? I want to come with you. I can earn my keep." He picked up one of the packs, hoisting it on his broad shoulders. For a fourteen-year-old, he was pretty damn strong. The whistles of the Brown Shirts grew closer.

"No room," Dozer said. "Now beat it."

We started to walk away. A small part of me felt for the kid.

"Fine," Four Fingers said, "I'll tell the colonel."

We froze. It was pure blackmail-but he had us good and everyone knew it.

Dozer raised his fist and took a threatening step forward. "You say one word, you little freak, and I'll rip off your head and feed it to the wolves."

Four Fingers didn't back down. The two locked eyes.

"Okay," June Bug finally relented, "but keep up. We don't wait for anyone."

Four Fingers's face broke into a ghoulish smile.

"Are you serious?" Dozer asked, outraged. "This jerk-off hasn't been on a horse in his life. All the Brown Shirts have to do is follow us up the mountain on their ATVs."

"Not if their ATVs don't work." Cat reached into his pocket and fished out a handful of keys. "Tough to start an engine without these."

From the sounds of the whistles, we knew the Brown Shirts had reached the other side of the woods. A flare rocketed skyward, bursting into a spitting blaze of green light. There was no time to waste.

We saddled an eighth horse and began making our way up the steep trail that led to the top of the dark, distant mountain-Skeleton Ridge. As our mounts picked their way up the rocky slope, I questioned if we were right to bring Four Fingers along.

Wondered, too, if I could work it to see the girl named Hope again. To find out more about her, who she was and how she'd ended up at Camp Freedom. For reasons I didn't fully understand, I couldn't get her out of my mind.

PART TWO.

ESCAPE.

but please turn around and step into the future leave memories behind enter the land of hope.

-ZBIGNIEW HERBERT.

from "A Life"

WITH A SPECIAL INSPECTION scheduled that night, Hope's been ordered to clean the barn. An important visitor is coming to Camp Freedom and everything has to look its best. Like Hope cares.

All that concerns her is living-trying to survive Dr. Gallingham and her fellow inmates so she and Faith can get out of there. And maybe find Book.

Even now, stacking hay bales, she swears she can smell his masculine scent: that pleasing blend of sweat and musk. It surprises her how much she thinks of him. How cruel it was to meet him that one time only and then . . . gone.

Laughter breaks her spell. Mean-spirited chuckling.

Hope inches to the edge of the hayloft. Below her, at the far end of the barn, stand three inmates. They surround a fourth girl-Hope recognizes her as the strawberry blonde, the frail twin of Red Hair. Where the Brown Shirts have drifted off to is anybody's guess.

The girl tries to walk away, but the heavyset bully pushes her to the ground. The girl lands smack in a juicy puddle of mud and manure.

"I'll ask you one more time," the leader says. "What were you doing back there?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Strawberry Blonde says, her voice quivering.

"Just kicking dirt for the fun of it?"

The heavyset prisoner takes a menacing step forward. There's something off-kilter about her face-lopsided, even. "You all are up to something, aren't ya?"

The small girl's chin trembles. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." She begins slamming her fist into her palm. Smack. Smack.

"Hey!" Hope suddenly yells. "What's going on down there?"

The three girls look up and exchange a glance. "Who the hell are you?" Lopsided Face asks.

"I'm Hope."

"Yeah, well, I'm Reality"-her two friends crack up-"and I say leave us the hell alone."

Hope climbs down the rickety ladder without a second thought, knowing she has little chance with these odds. Not three against one. Still, she reaches the ground and extends a hand to the frail girl, intending to help her to her feet.

Before she gets the chance, Lopsided Face spins her around. "I said leave us alone."

It takes everything in Hope's willpower not to throw a punch. "I am leaving you alone. It's her I'm helping."

Lopsided doesn't hide her disgust. "What's with you girls from B, anyway? What makes you think you're so special?"

"We just look after each other, that's all."

Hope's words surprise even herself. Here she is including herself in Barracks B as though she's lived there for years. As though the other girls accept her.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but you're up to something. Kicking at the dirt. Searching in the gardens. It's like you're looking for buried treasure."

It's what Hope thinks, too.

A distant whistle shrieks. Time for the inspection.

Lopsided Face gives an irritated glance, then leans in until her nose is mere inches from Hope's. "We're not done here." She and her friends lumber away and Hope waits for them to disappear.

"Come on," Hope says to the frail girl. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"But the inspection-"

"Can wait. Come on."

Hope pulls her to her feet, mud and manure clinging to her legs.

"You won't tell, will you?" the girl manages between sobs.

Hope is irritated by the tears and confused by the request. "It wasn't your fault those bullies picked on you."

"Please don't tell Athena-about any of this."

"Fine. As long as you stop crying." Then: "So your sister's name is Athena, huh? What's yours?"

"Helen," she says with a nervous smile.

"Okay, Helen. Then get out of that dress and we'll clean it."

Helen covers herself. "But what will I wear?"

Hope lets out a long sigh; she has no time for tears, even less for modesty. She whips off her own dress and holds it out to Helen.

Helen just stares at it. "But that's yours."

"Exactly. Now take it." They exchange dresses and Hope fills a bucket with water. She begins to scrub. "Why'd they pick on you, anyway?"

"Some of the other barracks don't like us. They think we're up to something."

"Are you?"

Helen seems on the verge of speaking but stops herself. "We'd better hurry," she says.

Hope wonders what it was Helen was about to say. "Go on if you'd like, I'm almost done here."

"But it's a special inspection. If you're not there, you'll be punished."

"What're they gonna do? Put me in prison? Go."

"Thank you," Helen murmurs, then hurries away.

Hope wrings out the dress and puts it on. Its dampness raises goose bumps and she rubs her arms to warm herself up. As she does, she thinks of the Less Than-Book. Although their encounter seems like a distant dream, she lets herself pretend it's Book who strokes her arms. She imagines him holding her firmly against his chest, the heat from his body mingling with hers.

Don't be a fool, she tells herself, and shakes away the thought.

Still, why is it that just thinking of him makes her feel less alone? Makes her want to escape from Camp Freedom this very moment?

By the time Hope returns, the inspection is under way. An entourage parades from one barracks to another. Hope slips inside her tar-paper shack through the rear door. The other girls are standing stiffly by their cots.

"Thanks for joining us," Athena says as Hope shuffles to her place in line.

"Don't mention it."

"Next time you put us all in jeopardy, let us know ahead of time, okay?"

The door swings open and in steps the tall, blond woman-the same one who demanded Hope's hair be cut off. So that's who the special inspection is for. As before, the woman wears an ankle-length coat that hangs off her shoulders. Colonel Thorason and half a dozen Brown Shirts single-file behind her, down one aisle and then another.

Suddenly the blond woman stops. "What's that smell?"

The entourage comes to a halt.

"There," one of the Brown Shirts says, pointing at Hope's feet.

Water drips from the hem of her dress, creating a small brown puddle on the pine floor.

Colonel Thorason stomps forward, grabbing Hope's arm to read her tattoo. "What's the meaning of this, 739?"

"I had an accident," Hope mumbles.

"And you didn't think it necessary to clean up for our honored guest?"

"I tried."

"Not hard enough," he sputters. "And just for that, I'm going to double your work duties, and then-"

The blond woman with the high cheekbones cuts him off. "If I may," she says, her voice so sugary sweet it's painful to listen to.

"Of course." Thorason takes a deferential step backward.

The woman faces Hope directly. Her smile is brittle, her eyes icy. In a move so fast it startles even Hope, she rips off Hope's head scarf, revealing a patchy fuzz of short black hair.

"I thought it might be you," she says, deliberately tossing the head scarf into the puddle of brown muck.

Hope's cheeks burn red.

"Care to tell us how you got into this mess?" the woman asks.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hope sees Helen about to open her mouth. Hope beats her to it. "I fell in the barn shoveling manure," she blurts out. "I tried to clean up. Guess I didn't do a very good job."

"No, I guess you didn't. But then again, you know what they say. You can take the girl out of the shit, but you can't take the shit out of the girl."

There is a brief moment when no one quite knows how to respond. When the woman begins to laugh, the Brown Shirts and Colonel Thorason are quick to follow.