“We need someone who knows the geography,” June Bug said. “Someone who can be a guide.”
No one had to mention Cat’s name for us to realize we were all thinking of the same person.
“Too late,” Dozer said. “That coward’s done gone and run. And I say fine. Let the sonofabitch die for all I care.”
We headed back to camp, each going a different way so as not to arouse suspicion. As I made my way back, one question rattled around in my head over and over: How on earth could a measly bunch of Less Thans escape from Camp Liberty, elude an army of Brown Shirts, and make it halfway across the wilderness to a new territory? It seemed nothing less than impossible.
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