Chapter 51
The Editing Room
JESSICA
Present Day
Ilook up and down the corridor before I make my exit. My headache eases somewhat. Instead of heading to the medical room, I continue down the corridor until I find the laminated sign marked Editing Room. I quietly open the door before slipping inside.
I scan the area completely before fully entering the room, appreciating that this one is not as dark.
A table in the center is littered with papers, empty plates, and glasses.
Off to one side is a small sitting area, for the staff to come and go between filming, take a break, or hold quick one-on-one meetings.
The other wall is comprised of CCTV monitors.
Three additional monitors adorn a nearby desk.
Squirrel sits at the desk, clicking on the mouse, freezing and unfreezing footage recently filmed. He wears headphones so I can’t hear the audio from the screens. And he clearly didn’t hear me enter the room.
I approach the center table, shifting through papers and reading a few. I stack the plates neatly and align the glasses so no one accidentally knocks them over. I approach the wall of monitors, noting every room where the production team placed a live-feed camera.
A group of men gathers in a lounging area. Marcus and Wills talk with them. I peruse the buttons to turn up the volume. However, I don’t see what I’m looking for. I turn around and place a hand on Squirrel’s shoulder.
He flashes beneath my touch and disappears from his chair. Headphones crash to the floor. I whirl around in search of Squirrel, finding him clear across the room. I clap my hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.
Eyes wide but brows furrowed, he controls his labored breathing. He swipes his headphones off the ground before flashing back. “I don’t want to hear it,” he huffs, returning to his seat.
Squirrel is sensitive about his little glitch—well, that’s what we all call it anyway.
But his glitch doesn’t detract from the fact that his computer skills are phenomenal and his ability to build specialized weapons that look like everyday household items makes him indispensable.
Because of this special skillset, he’s often behind the scenes, mostly behind a monitor or in his workshop, where he can focus on building devices for my team.
This is the first time he’s actually in the mix of anything we do.
I clear my throat. “Maybe don’t wear these while you work. We’re supposed to be covert. Yeah?” I tap the headphones around his neck. I move close to his side, leaning against the table so I can see his face.
He grimaces. “Sorry about that. I got caught up with the editing. The producers are giving Carmen a lot of shit now that we’re behind schedule. I need to ensure I do a good job to keep this position here.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “Anyone suspect that you actually work for me or the guards?”
He offers a sly smile. “Of course not. Besides, no one on the production side knows me as Squirrel. They know me as Donald, the editing guy.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised that he chose to use his real name. I seem to recall that he hated it when we first met. He was always so jumpy and fast when we sparred, I called him Squirrel. It stuck. “You chose your real name?”
“It was just easier. I don’t know how you do it, changing your name all the time. I used to wonder how you remembered to answer someone when they called your name.”
I shrug. “You get used to it, sometimes. Are you good here? I know that this isn’t something you're used to doing.”
He nods. “I’m good. I’ll put a motion detector by the door to stop the sound in my headphones and maybe a flashing light to alert me that someone entered the room.”
I giggle. “Or you can rearrange the room to face the door.”
“Aww, where’s the fun in that?”
I roll my eyes. “The cameras in the halls and rooms… do they capture audio, too?” I turn back to the CCTVs on the wall and find the room where I last saw Marcus and Wills. Owen and Dimitri have joined them. I scan the rest of the monitors but don’t see Shadow anywhere.
“Darwin installed cameras with microphones. I just turned down the audio so I could focus on editing.”
I nod, still studying the monitors.
“The feed from these cameras is also linked with the CCTV network in the guard office, and of course, we installed additional cameras without telling the production.”
“And everything is recorded?”
“Come on, G. Who do you think you're talking to? I may not be as good of an actor as you, but I can set up a fail-proof, hack-proof system.”
I turn to face Squirrel and smile. “I never doubt your work. I was just asking for some peace of mind. I overheard Marcus and Wills talking in the hall. It was mid-conversation, and they were interrupted.”
“Darwin’s team monitors the system. I’m sure they will report when they check in.” I study Squirrel for a moment. He’s starting to get squirmy, a sign that he wants to say something but isn’t sure he should.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking, in your interview, you seemed so unsure of yourself, shy almost. I was trying to figure out if it was an act or if it was real. I honestly haven’t seen that side of you, well, ever really.
From the first time I met you, even when you pretended to be a boy, you just always seemed so confident, so much so that you intimidated the hell out of all of us when we were just recruits.
It's why we started messing with you. We kind of wanted to shake you a little—find your weakness—so we knew you were just like the rest of us.”
“Like the rest of you?” I tease, but I think Squirrel took it the wrong way.
He turns his head. “Being in the guard meant everything to us. We were scared we wouldn’t be good enough to make it through the program. Then, this little shit shows up and kicks our ass in everything.”
“That’s funny because I remember feeling the opposite of confident.
There were so many days when I just wished I was like the rest of you.
I cried in private so many times.” Admitting how hard it was being in the guard for the first few months is difficult to admit.
To them, they saw a little boy with a chip on his shoulder.
To me, though, I was a little girl, scared and unsure of where she belonged in this world. I still don’t know where I belong.
He faces me as a big smile crosses his face from ear to ear. “Yeah, me too. If you tell anyone that I said so, I will deny it.”
I pinch my thumb and forefinger together and pretend to zipper my lips closed.
“My lips are sealed.” Then, I cross my heart.
“You know, to answer your question, it’s a little bit of both.
Deep down inside, I always feel shy, awkward, and uncomfortable in my own skin.
The confident side, most of the time, is an act—a mask I use on a daily basis.
I wanted... I needed to let the Resistance see that vulnerable side of me, let them think that they shook me, took me down a peg.
” I shrug, before adding, “Let them think they won, just a little.”
He nods in understanding. “You know we’ve always got your back, and it’s an honor to follow your lead.
” When his eyes lift to my own, they shine with unsaid emotion.
“We will finish this, and they will pay for everything they did. They can’t expect to take out one of our own without retribution.
” A single tear trails down his cheek before he swipes it away. I look away, as if I didn’t notice.
We all remember Emily. She was one of us, a guard.
I glance at my phone for the time. Right on schedule, some of my guards, posing as production crew, walk into the room.
Before I acknowledge them, the raspy tone of my voice diverts my attention. Turning toward the monitors, I recognize this part of my interview.