Abandon (27 page)

General Darke spoke of the cleanup, reading verbatim
from my report. No one else knew that, but I did. He went through the list of people we’d lost during the Resistance attack. New Thinkers were needed in the Medical, Evolutionary, Confinement, and Technology Rises. Freedom needed a new Director, and that person would also become the new Regional Director in the eastern city belt.

He assigned new Directors, some of whom were in the room and others who would be promoted from their current jobs. New weight settled on the shoulders of those assigned to crumbled Rises, as they’d be responsible for getting them rebuilt and functioning.

“With the loss of Van Hightower,” General Darke said, “Freedom needs a new Director. I won’t be able to stay here forever.” He surveyed the group, and I felt like he was judging each of us. I wasn’t sure I met his expectations. Scratch that. As a seventeen-year-old who had very recently played for the other side, I didn’t come close to the General’s expectations.

The experience and talent—and loyalty—of the other Thinkers in the room outweighed mine, despite the General’s recruitment speech in Castledale. I knew I had talents he wanted, I just didn’t know if they were enough.

“Zenn Bower,” he said finally. I don’t know what he saw when he looked at me, but I saw a calculating old man when I looked at him.

I was the most surprised by the announcement, but definitely not the angriest. But no one argued with the General. They’d accept me as their Director, because if they didn’t, they’d die. General Darke would make sure of that. For now, I appreciated his protection. My fists clenched as I wondered what would happen when the General left Freedom and I had to Direct by myself.

*   *   *

Once the General concluded his business, I edged my way over to Marco. I met cold glances and near-silent scoffs every step of the way, but I didn’t care. I’d been on the fringes of the Insiders for weeks. The girl I loved disliked me so much, she’d punched me. Nothing here was as agonizing as being in the same room with Vi yet not being with her.

I sipped my bottled water as Marco chatted with the new Medical Director. He finally stepped away, and I seized my opportunity. “Tense in there, yeah?”

Marco looked at me, but said nothing. He zipped his jacket as if he might leave before General Darke dismissed us. He wouldn’t. So I said, “The runners are probably just caught in the storm.”

“Hopefully.” He turned away from General Darke, who lingered near the head of the table, speaking with the new Evolutionary Director.

“You used to run, Zenn. What’s it like out there?”

“Dangerous,” I said, bringing my bottled water to my lips to disguise their movement.

“Hmm.” Marco fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets to mask his agitation. It was a classic Insider move.
When nervous, hide your hands
. I practically wrote the manual on Insider behavior, and I recognized all the signs.

“Who’d you send?” I asked. “Maybe I know them and can tell you of their flying abilities.” I was lying, of course. Why would a former junior assistant from Rise Nine know any of the city’s runners? Employing my voice power, I asked again, “So who’d you send?”

Marco bounced on the balls of his feet. “No one. I didn’t send anyone.”

I couldn’t help it; I stared openly. Was he confiding in me, or had I coerced him with my voice? Was he playing me, the new Director of Freedom, hoping I wouldn’t discipline him for his daring act of rebellion? Now, when the General would punish anyone who so much as sneezed before asking permission?

“What are you going to do about it, Director?” he asked, sneering out the last word. That’s when I knew: He knew what I would have to do, and he was pushing me to see if I’d do it.

I made it to the bathroom before throwing up.

*   *   *

Three days later, Marco was buried in a shallow grave alongside the clones. General Director Darke stood next to me, his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture of support.

I didn’t cry. I’d done that at home. At night. In private. Well, mostly. General Darke had witnessed one episode when I couldn’t call back the tears fast enough. He hadn’t chastised me. He’d simply said, “Hard times call for hard decisions, Zenn. You wanted to run this city, you have to run this city.”

Then he’d left me alone in my townhome to cry, cry until I didn’t feel anything anymore.

Afterward, I’d ordered Marco’s execution, and I’d sent runners to Arrow Falls and Grande.

They were due to return within the hour. With their intel, maybe I’d be able to get security back up in Freedom. Maybe I’d figure out a way to get the brainwashing messages out again.

Maybe I’d find a way to regain control of my Citizens. Six days had gone by without a single transmission. My voice wasn’t strong enough to make recordings, even if I had the proper equipment.

And the people of Freedom were waking up. Yesterday Citizens began to venture outside their homes. I’d used the remaining Enforcement Officers to herd them to the green
area outside Rise Two, and I’d asked the people to bring any tech they had stored in their homes.

So far only four people had brought items, and they ranged from a sleeve of microchips to the family food dispenser. I couldn’t refuse them their only way of eating—I wasn’t that heartless—and I’d sent them home again.

The only reason I hadn’t been run out of town, or buried in the shallow graves I’d helped dig, was because of Marco’s execution. The people were afraid.

I was running my city on fear.

When my runners didn’t return at the appointed time, I retreated to my town house. I couldn’t cry anymore. I’d made my choice when I signed Marco’s death sentence, and I’d live with it.

If General Darke didn’t kill me first.

45
.
The heat is so strong, I can taste it. Fire rages all around me. I’m trapped in the middle of an inferno.

I jam a teleporter ring on my finger, but don’t have time to say anything before I blitz into particles.

It doesn’t matter where I end up. Anywhere is better than being burned alive.

*   *   *

When I land, it’s much too quiet. I turn in a slow circle, seeing only desolate land. Nothing grows here, and I’m reminded of the projections I’d seen in school. The images of ash, of decaying bodies, of death.

This place smells like death. It’s almost as horrible as being in fire, this being-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere thing. I have a feeling no one’s been here in centuries. It feels that decayed.

The sun shines weakly, and the ground is covered with a thin layer of frost. There’s no wind here. It’s as if even the elements stay away from this place. I start walking in what I hope is a southerly direction, because I think I’m in the country north of the Association—the country where everyone died.

*   *   *

You’re lost,
I tell myself for the hundredth time. I’ve been walking for hours. The sun will set soon, and I’ll be left in the dark, where no one will ever find me.

At least there are no Thinkers,
but the thought doesn’t ease my desperation.

Suddenly Vi strolls next to me. She whispers that it’s noon and I need to wake up. I try to find her, but the sun has gone out.

It can’t be noon if the sun is down. Can it? Nothing makes sense.

And then it doesn’t matter, because I’m in the capsule again, and the dirt is raining down, and there is no escape from that tomb.

*   *   *

I woke when I hit the floor. I thrashed, my injured foot making contact with something hard. I’d kicked a person, and they cursed.

“Jag, wake up.”

I pushed into a sitting position to find Starr rubbing her kneecap. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t wake up well.”

“Vi said as much.”

“Sorry,” I said again. I looked at Starr and found her bright yellow hair appeared freshly washed. “You’re looking good, Starr.”

Her eyes reminded me of my mother’s. Sharp and full of life. She didn’t miss anything.

“Thanks to Trek,” Starr said. “Thane’s been nursing me back to health too.”

“Is there anything that guy can’t do?” I asked.

A smile seeped across her mouth. “He’s got quite the temper.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked, folding my arms behind my head. “All the best guys have tempers.”

Starr laughed and turned to leave. “I’ll go get Vi.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. I could feel Vi’s pity coming through the walls. “She’s lurking in the hall.” Annoyance flashed through me. Vi got someone else to wake me up?

“You have freaky dreams,” Vi said, still out of sight.

I didn’t answer. I hated subjecting her to my nightmares, but surely she realized what she was, what she could do. She’d need to figure out a way to block my thoughts, my dreams, everything.

“I’m trying,” she said. “I’ve talked to Thane about it.”

“Nice,” I said in my most sarcastic tone. I didn’t want her
talking to Thane about anything except maybe the weather or what to have for breakfast. Certainly not anything having to do with me.

“I’m not giving him specifics.” Vi finally appeared in the doorway. Starr hurried out of the room, skating her fingers along Vi’s shoulder as she went.

“It’s after noon,” Vi continued. “We’re leaving.”

“Northepointe?”

“That’s where you chose,” she said drily.

I stood up and brushed my hands on my dirty jeans. “Are we packed?”

She smirked. “We’re just waiting for our fearless leader.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, threading my fingers through hers. “And kiss me.”

*   *   *

We left our headquarters in Castledale and flew west to Laurel’s last known location. Thane had instructed us to watch for markings on the ground, on buildings, anywhere. “Knowing her,” he’d said, “she’ll have taken her team somewhere secure and left us a message as to where.”

Starr spotted the black writing on the ground first. It looked like Laurel had burned the message in the field, and while I could read the letters, it made no sense to me.

E-D-N-A-R-G.

“Grande,” Thane said immediately.

She’d spelled it backward. “Grande is dangerously close to Freedom,” I said.

“She’s smart,” Thane said. “She’ll have her moles back up and running in no time.”

I consented and turned my board north. Director Kingston held no soft spot for the Resistance—in fact he was as ruthless as they came. Darke would never expect me to find refuge in Northepointe—which was exactly why I’d chosen it as our lay-low city.

That, and because of its location. See, Northepointe was way across the country from Freedom, and the flight would take two days. I needed time to sort through what steps to take next, and if Laurel could really get her underground message system running as fast as Thane claimed, I could operate the Resistance from Northepointe.

I’d just passed the last building in Castledale when Vi screamed. “Saffediene!”

I spun around as Vi streaked away from the group and disappeared.

I swore, Thane swore, and we both took off in the direction she’d gone.

I used Vi’s high emotion to track her. She was crouched next to Saffediene’s still form. Vi’s hands fluttered over Saffediene’s
chest. When I landed next to her, she looked at me with wild eyes. “She needs help,” Vi said.

Saffediene wasn’t bleeding. No, her wounds were worse than that: techtricity burns. The flesh on her ankles oozed blood, and black patterns ran the length of her arms, legs, and torso. Her muscles twitched, her eyes blinked, but she didn’t move. I wasn’t sure how she’d survived.

Thane rummaged through his pack, producing meds and bandages. I did as he instructed, and we had Saffediene tethered to Thane’s board in under five minutes. He rode on Vi’s, and she stepped onto mine. We made a slow return to the group.

Finding Saffediene cast a somber mood on us, and we flew toward Northepointe in twos and threes, speaking only when necessary.

*   *   *

Mercifully, the sun stayed out all day, and we used the solar charge in our hoverboards. I hooked into a charge pack at night, and used the sunshine to recharge my board and the spare pack on the second day. By the time we saw the city limits of Northepointe, we were all slouched on our boards.

I flew sitting down, with Vi in front of me, her back pressed against my chest. We hadn’t spoken much, instead allowing a measure of peace to exist between us during the brief respite from Resistance efforts.

“We’re here,” I said, so everyone could hear me. Then I repeated it softly so only Vi could.

Darkness—and the early April chill of the far north—would blanket the land in only an hour. We touched down, taking cover in a shallow ravine two miles outside of Northepointe. I sat on the shore keeping watch while everyone else used the food-generating cube to order dinner.

Vi brought me a bowl of steaming soup and settled next to me. I’d swallowed the last mouthful of broth when a light on the outskirts of Northepointe flashed three times.

Three lights asked a question: Are you there?

Two flashes in response meant yes. And of course if I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be able to signal, would I?

Shrimp, my contact in Northepointe, flashed every night on the hour from nine to midnight.

“Two flashes will let them know we’re here,” I instructed Vi. “Can you produce them? Two seconds apart, please.”

She fired off the appropriate response, and we settled in to wait for our escort into the city. Ten minutes later a squad of officers landed in front of us.

“You must be Jag Barque,” one of them said. “So Shrimp was telling the truth.” He glanced at his companions. “Guess we shouldn’t have killed him.”

46
.
“I sent them,” I said for the fourth time. General Darke sat in his office, his hands folded neatly in front of him on the desk. “You were with me when I sent them.”

He nodded. “I was. I’m wondering why they haven’t returned.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe the Resistance is not as dead as we’d like to believe.”