SITTING UNDER THE UMBRELLA of an enormous pine tree, I stared into the dark, serenaded by a thousand frogs. The steady snores of Four Fingers and Argos filled the night.

Although the possibility of seeing Hope again had buoyed my spirits, there was no mistaking the feeling behind her final words to me: Don't come back. Not if you want to live. The message couldn't have been clearer.

I pushed myself up from the ground and left my two sleeping companions. I needed to do this on my own. If someone was going to put their life at risk making contact with Hope, it had to be me.

I wanted it to be me.

The night was dark, and as I circled the camp I hid in the black shade of thick trees. The silhouette of a guard tower was etched against the night sky. In front of it stood the barn, where I had first spoken with Hope. I eased forward and slipped into it.

There were animals, of course-goats, cows, some chickens-but no people. Still, I tiptoed across the straw-covered floor and checked every nook and corner. Just to be safe.

I clambered up the ladder, the mingling aroma of hay and dung reminding me of my first visit there. Although I half hoped, half prayed I'd see Hope in the loft, of course she wasn't there. Not in the middle of the night. There were just stacks and stacks of hay bales.

I fished the note from my pocket and reread it for the umpteenth time.

Headed to Brown Forest. See you there?

Book

As I searched for the best place to hide it, a piercing scream sliced the night. It was a girl's scream-terror filled-and it raised the hairs on my arms.

Was I crazy to think the scream might have been Hope?

It came again, even more panic-stricken than before, and it was an unbearable eternity before the night swallowed the last echo of sound.

My hands fumbled for the note . . . and I had a change of heart.

I would stay until the morning. I wanted to see Hope for myself. To make sure she was okay. I'd spend the night, talk with her when she came to the barn, and then sneak away when the guards weren't looking.

If it didn't work out, fine, I'd still leave the slip of paper with its few scrawled words. But if I did see her, well, what could be better than that?

Making my way to the far corner where I'd originally hid, I carved a makeshift bed in the narrow space. I lay down and tried to sleep, but it was no use. Not as long as Hope was on one side of the fence and I was on the other.

ONCE AGAIN, DR. GALLINGHAM administers a full dose of medicine to Hope and half a dose to Faith. Even when Faith's fever eventually breaks and her pain ebbs, her ribs press against her skin and her stare is vacant. For Hope, it's like looking at a total stranger.

They're released from the infirmary and the two girls hurry back to Barracks B. Settling in for sleep, Hope clutches the tiny gold locket in her hands. Even in the dark she can feel her parents' stares. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays for dreamless sleep.

Her prayers aren't answered.

The fingers that clamp across Hope's mouth smell of dirt. Her eyes snap open and she struggles for breath. Her hands go up to her assailant's wrist, but stop when she feels the knife blade kissing her neck.

"I wouldn't if I were you," comes the voice.

Hope lies still. Red-haired Athena is crouched over her, stifling Hope's mouth with one hand, holding a knife in the other. Behind her stand four other girls, their silhouettes edged by moonlight.

"Don't make a sound," Athena whispers. "Okay?"

Hope nods. Fear races through her body.

"Get up."

Hope casts her thin blanket aside and stands. Her eyes land on a sleeping Faith. Athena seems to read her mind.

"Just you."

Hope nods in relief. Whatever kind of punishment they have in mind, it's better if they leave Faith out of it. How much more can her sister take?

Athena leads Hope to the back of the barracks. They reach the latrine, but instead of entering, Athena motions to the door on the other side of the hall-one that leads to a closet housing a hot water heater.

"In there," Athena instructs.

To Hope's surprise, there is light in the small closet-coming from the floor. Warm candlelight emanates from behind the rusted water heater. Hope turns sideways until her entire body is in the tiny chamber. That's when she sees a narrow, gaping hole.

"Keep going," Athena says.

Hope casts a glance into the burial chamber. So this is where they imprison girls who don't play along, she thinks. Fine. I survived those years in a cave; I can survive this.

She grips a ladder's rungs and descends into the hole. She lets go once her feet make contact with the hard-packed earth . . .

. . . and can't believe her eyes.

It isn't a dungeon at all, but a long, narrow tunnel, ablaze with candlelight. It's no more than three feet wide, slightly more in height, and the sagging beams that support the archways are broomsticks and branches, even furniture. A table leg here, a desktop there. It's entirely primitive and horribly claustrophobic . . . but it's a tunnel. Right beneath Barracks B.

Athena and the other girls are crouched alongside her.

"Well?" Athena asks.

"It's a tunnel," Hope manages. It would be too much to say the girls smile, but they come as close to it as possible. "This is what you've been keeping a secret?"

"That's right."

"So why . . ."

"We had to know we could trust you." Athena casts a glance at her sister. "Apparently, that's no longer an issue."

Helen blushes.

Suddenly, things click in Hope's brain. "So that day behind the barn, Helen wasn't looking through the dirt, she was depositing it."

"That's the tricky part. We dig up all this dirt and have to get rid of it without the Brown Shirts noticing. Sometimes in the gardens, sometimes on the infield . . ."

"And sometimes behind the barn," Hope finishes.

Athena nods.

"That's why I couldn't tell you what I was doing," Helen blurts out.

"I understand," Hope says, trying to ease the frail girl's pain. Then she turns back to Athena. "How long've you been working on it?"

"Nearly a year. Scylla here's in charge of the engineering."

Scylla is the silent, muscular stub of a girl who'd pinned Hope's arms behind her back. She nods, her grim expression intact.

"When do you dig?"

"At night," Athena says. "Three-hour shifts."

Hope begins piecing it all together, the metallic sounds she's been hearing. "And the lookouts by the latrine . . ."

"Are to let the diggers know if any Brown Shirts make a sudden appearance."

"How long before it's finished?"

Athena looks to Scylla, who makes a series of hand gestures. Athena translates. "We've dug about a hundred yards, but to be safe, we need to do about twenty more. So maybe another month or two."

Hope thinks of her latest bout with whatever disease she was injected with. She isn't convinced Faith can last another two months-maybe not even two weeks.

"Who knows about this?"

"Just the Sisters of Barracks B. No one else."

"The Sisters?"

"That's what we call ourselves. Because that's what we are. Sisters." She gives a glance to the others. They return her look with affection.

"You don't trust anyone else?" Hope asks.

"Not enough to put the entire operation at risk."

Hope remembers the girl in the infirmary, the one with the eye patch. She had it wrong when she said that Barracks B didn't trust each other. They trust each other just fine; it's the rest of Camp Freedom they aren't so sure about.

"So why'd you bring me down here?" Hope asks.

Athena gives the other Sisters a long, hard look. "Because we want to know something." She hesitates. "Are you in?"

Hope studies their faces. "Are you asking me to help you dig your tunnel?"

"That's right."

"After the way you've treated me and my sister?"

"Yes."

"After beating me within an inch of my life?"

"Yup."

"How soon can I start?"

Athena actually smiles.

I WOKE WITH A start, my sleep interrupted by a sudden pounding. Lurching to a sitting position, I needed a moment to get my bearings. Hayloft. Camp Freedom. Early morning.

The pounding I'd heard was rain slamming against the barn roof. A spring storm. My heart rate slowed to something resembling normal.

Peeking through the barn's slats, I saw that Camp Freedom was still pretty much asleep. If I hurried, I could forage for food down below. There had to be some carrots or old apples or something I could steal from the livestock.

I shimmied down the ladder and began poking through the animal stalls, examining anything that looked remotely edible. My pockets were nearly full when I heard voices. Male voices. From inside the barn. I pressed myself behind a large cow and prayed for invisibility. I could've kicked myself for not staying hidden in the safety of the hay bales.

". . . resolution to the question of the Less Thans," one of the voices said.

"Who says we need one?" the other responded.

"The Eagle's Nest."

"The chancellor?"