She leads the way back to the meeting room, Tyrone and I following. Ingrid isn’t much on small talk, which is fine by me, because it means less bullshitting.
Once we’re inside the room and the door is closed, she doesn’t sit down. She’s giving me a look that I think is apprehensive, if I’m reading it right. It makes my gut churn nervously.
“I think we’ve covered everything you need for now,” she says. “You’ll need to name a successor. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Nova Kern.”
“We’ll find her fingerprint in the system and make the change.”
“Great. So I’ll be heading back to my island, then?”
I’ll be back with Briar by tonight. I’ve missed her and the rest of my command team. Niran can be impulsive, but she always has my back. Nova and Ellison are my family. All of them are, really.
“Tomorrow,” Ingrid says, studying me. “You’re not entirely finished here.”
She’d make a good horror movie villain. I can never get a read on her I fully trust. Every minute I’ve been here, I’ve been on edge, not sure if she’s going to offer me a drink or have me handcuffed and dragged to a cell.
She slides out of her olive-green jacket, leaving her in just a white T-shirt. Whatever this is, I don’t like it.
She turns her forearm over to display a tattoo of the New America flag. It covers the half of her arm nearest to her elbow, the colors stark against her pale skin.
“Holy shit.” The words fly out of my mouth before I have time to consider them, but I recover quickly, saying, “That’s incredible.”
“You’ll be getting one. It’s something we’ve started giving all our command officers.”
I don’t hesitate because my life depends on her believing I’m entirely loyal to the regime. “I’d love to. Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
I do know what to say, and it’sfuck this cultish bullshit. The last thing I want permanently inked onto my body is that flag. It sickens me.
“Just a little parting gift,” Ingrid says, looking pleased with herself. “Tyrone has one of his own.”
He unbuttons his jacket and pulls the collar of his T-shirt down to reveal the dark words inked on one of his pecs.
Peace. Order. Prosperity.
“Nice,” I say, wanting to puke into the nearest trash can.
I honestly don’t know which one is worse. New America loyalists calling what they dopeaceis a joke.
“You can get whichever one you want,” Ingrid says, putting her jacket back on.
“Can I get both?” I quip.
“You may,” Ingrid says,
“I want the flag.” I deserve an Oscar for the enthusiasm I’m selling. “The one on my island was destroyed by a storm.”
The storm was me, taking it with me when I left Rising Tide because McClain and I had met secretly and agreed we had to stop what was happening there. I burned it, making sure there was nothing left but ashes.
“We’ll send flags back with you.” She glances at the communication device on her hip, which looks like a cell phone. “Tyrone will take you to get your ink this afternoon, but first, there’s something I want to show you.”
I just nod, reminding myself to stay stoic and entitled. Too much fake enthusiasm may give me away.
Ingrid leads the way outside, where a vehicle that looks like a militarized golf cart waits for us with a driver. It’s small, only holding four people, but fully enclosed with the windows down to let air flow through.
Ingrid reads something on the screen of her communication device and shakes her head. “Why don’t women understand that our president is empowering them?” she asks no one in particular. “Those who don’t wish to serve must bear children. We have no future without more children.”
“There’s no greater calling than motherhood,” Tyrone says.
