False Future (6 page)

The air is clogged with smoke, along with a fine white powder—pulverized concrete from the initial attack, no doubt. Probably not safe to breathe, which is about the fortieth most important thing to think about right now.

Someone steps out of the coffee shop across the street, sees us, then steps back inside.

“We don’t look like friendlies,” I remind Rhys.

“No kidding,” he says.

We cross the street and step into the park a few seconds later. A path has been carved through the snow. Through the trees I hear the strange tones put out by the Thorns as they patrol the area.

“So Noble is pretty awesome,” I say, fishing a little. When I died, Rhys and Noble were just reconnecting after years apart.

He considers that for a moment. “Yeah, he is awesome. We’re bonding, you know, that whole thing.”

“No, I don’t know how one clone bonds with another clone.” I tried once, with Sequel, before she was replaced with the homicidal maniac that killed Noah.

Rhys gives a halfhearted chuckle. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it will ever be normal. But I gotta say, having him around is great. He’s like a…”

“Father?”

He nods. “The closest I’ll ever have.”

“That goes for me too,” I add.

A hundred yards later we come across our first Rose. It’s a Peter, wearing a white suit that seems pure and angelic against the grayish snow. His badge says P-908. Seeing the clone’s blue eyes is enough to make me feel sick. Last time I saw my Peter, his eyes had deepened to purple from using the memory band.

P-908 seems to stiffen when he sees us, then he nods. We nod back and keep moving.

“Stay casual,” I say.

We enter a scorched section of the park. Limbless black trunks jut out of the ground like spikes. Ahead a Thorn rushes by from left to right, plowing through the trees like they’re matchsticks. We come across more Roses armed with RAWs and heading out of the park. They either nod or ignore us. Thank goodness for the red suits.

My eyes dart from trunk to trunk, and I realize I’m not looking for Roses. I’m looking for those spiders. On open ground, we’d be dead meat. What kind of sick mind can not only dream up a creature like that, but also create it?

After a thick clot of trees, the Verge comes into view. It’s larger than Commander Gane’s had been, as wide as any skyscraper, but squat like a beehive. I can feel some kind of power radiating off of it. Without warning, the top begins to glow bright red again, followed by a sound so loud my teeth vibrate. I have to shield my eyes. When I look skyward, I can just see a hole the laser burned through the cloud cover and blue sky beyond.

Through it is a blot of smoke, no larger than a pebble held at arm’s length. Another spy plane, or maybe they got smart and started using satellites. The rage I feel is the worst kind—helpless. I might as well be standing in the sun on a summer day, my skin is so hot.

Rhys gives my hand a squeeze and we keep moving, because we have to. The entrance to the Verge is straight ahead.

I will burn this place to the ground,
I think as we step inside.

I
nside, the Verge is identical to the one I died in, as far as I can tell. The levels are circular and overlook the open interior, with branching walkways connected to a pillar in the middle, which starts on the second level, supported by four extending bridges, like spokes on a wheel. As we walk in there’s a little kiosk with a screen that says
TYPE IN YOUR NUMBER
.

Beyond that, the Black takes up most of the floor. Roses continue to pull themselves out of it, like animals freeing themselves from a tar pit. A siren blows, and the Roses scatter away from the hole, the two cranes mounted on the floor swinging out of the way. Two seconds later, an Ax bursts out of the Black, filling the air with noise and heat and wind. The four engines in the corners of the plane spit down bluish-green fire, and the heat forces me to put a hand over my face. It flies forward, exiting through a large door on the other side of the Verge.

Two more Axes come out of the hole in rapid succession. Then the cranes go to work pulling Thorns out of the Black. Each Thorn is already loaded with Roses, who immediately drive them out of the Verge and into the park.

Rhys and I are just standing here, mesmerized, watching as the invasion force bubbles up from a hole in the ground. It’s all very efficient. I’m sure they’re so proud.

“C’mon,” I say, tugging him forward once the siren stops. More Roses are climbing out of the hole now that it’s clear. We walk up to the kiosk. I type in
M-96
and hit
ENTER
. The screen immediately comes back with
TEAM 16
,
LEVEL 9
,
DORM 16
.

“Let me make sure we’re in the same room,” Rhys says, typing in his number. It comes back the same, thankfully.

We skirt around the circumference of the Verge until we come to a set of stairs. The stairs rise over the Black and lead to elevator doors located at the bottom of the pillar.

The silent black circle is now directly below us. I wonder what would happen if I fell through.

“I don’t get it,” Rhys says, looking around. “How can they have a briefing here? There’s no room.”

“I don’t know,” I say as we step into the elevator. “And they wouldn’t recall everyone in the city just for a meeting.”

“Level,” the elevator says.

“Nine,” I reply.

We rise for a few seconds, and the doors open on another catwalk. Three Roses—a P, R, and N—are waiting to get in. The P and N are in silver armor. I nod to them and they ignore me. The circumference of level nine, and all the levels, probably, is ringed by dorm rooms. We find the one labeled
16
. A device built into the door scans the badges on our chests, and then the door slides open.

It’s just like home. Bunk beds on both sides. Dressers, a fridge, a bathroom. It’s so familiar it hurts.

At the table in the middle of the room sit an Olive, a Noah, and a Peter. The other members of my team are right here in front of me, but of course they aren’t actually mine. Two of my real Alpha teammates are dead, and Peter is who knows where. But I wouldn’t know the difference just by looking at this team, at least not at first glance. The Peter’s eyes hold a familiar light, and the Olive’s posture is the same as I remember.

The Peter leans around the Noah to look at us. “Finally. Where have you guys been?”

We step into the room, and the door closes behind us. An excruciating second passes where Rhys and I wait for each other to say something first.

“Uh,” Rhys says. A good start.

The Noah and the Peter are wearing black, the Olive white, which means we’re ranked above them. So we won’t have to answer any awkward questions. And if we’re different ranks, maybe that means the team hasn’t been training together from the start. M-96 and R-34 could be strangers. I hope.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say.

The Peter and the Noah share a look, like
What’s her deal?
I read their badges quickly while their eyes are on each other—O-9, P-230, and N-7.

N-7 leans back in his chair and tosses some playing cards onto the table. Their fellow Roses are outside destroying our city, and they’re playing
cards
. “No, really, where have you been? We were supposed to be on mission twenty-five minutes ago.”

Rhys and I are still standing at the other end of the room, which has to look weird. I move forward and sit down at the table. Rhys follows. The three of them wait for us to elaborate.

“We got held up,” Rhys says.

“I thought the briefing is coming up,” I say. Instantly I know it sounds stupid. Wouldn’t I know what we’re supposed to be doing?

Olive raises her eyebrow at Noah. “Are you guys feeling okay?”

I shake my head, trying to recover. “No, not really. A few citizens were unruly, and Thirty-four had to put them down.”

“Put them down,” P-230 repeats.

“Yes,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. Does that phrase sound out of place to them? I have no idea if I’m making things worse or not. “Haven’t you been outside? It’s insane.”

“No,”
N-7 says. “You
told
us to stay put. We’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

“Not long, though,” O-9 says, shooting Noah a look that I’ve seen before. The one that says
Shut your mouth before it gets you in trouble
. “We just got here.”

“My weapon was faulty,” P-230 says. “I asked everyone to wait while I went to the armory.”

Rhys stands up. “Well, then, let’s get to it.” A bead of sweat appears at his hairline.

“Great,” N-7 says, clearly exasperated.

The three Roses stand in unison and gather their weapons. Rhys and I share a look, and I know he’s feeling the same kind of dread I am. We have no idea what we’re doing, and they’re going to find out sooner or later. Right now all we can do is roll with it.

We leave the dorm and head back to the elevator, passing several other teams along the way.

“Where’d you park the Thorn?” O-9 asks Rhys.

“I left it on the street,” Rhys says plainly.

O-9 actually gasps.

“Relax,” Rhys says, and I can tell he’s thinking fast. “I wanted to maintain a presence out there even though we had to leave. Some citizens were gathering, but the Thorns scare them.”

“Good thinking,” P-230 says. Rhys almost smiles at me.

Something vibrates against my left forearm. Everyone stops, which means they must feel it too. I twist my hand palm-up, and words scroll across the scales on my forearm.

BRIEFING CANCELED

FUGITIVE SIGHTED BETWEEN AVENUES SEVEN AND EIGHT

BETWEEN 50TH STREET AND 59TH STREET

AS OF NINETY SECONDS AGO

PERIMETER BEING ESTABLISHED

CONSIDER EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

THOUGHT TO POSSESS THE KEY

TEAMS 3
,
4
,
9
,
16
:
REPORT TO THIS LOCATION

ALL OTHER TEAMS MAINTAIN PERIMETER

Team 16, that’s us. Two seconds pass, then another sentence scrolls across my arm, one that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

CONFIRMED: FUGITIVE HAS POSSESSION OF THE KEY

“Wow,” O-9 says. “We might be going home sooner than expected.”

“I can’t believe we’re on,” N-7 says, shifting from foot to foot. “What the hell is the Key? Why don’t they tell us these things?”

“It’s a rush job,” O-9 says. “I heard a rumor the director lost something very important.
Extremely
important.”

N-7 smirks. “Like when she lost the Torch?”

O-9’s eyes go wide with that
Shut up, you idiot
look again.

P-230 puts his hand on my shoulder. “That means you need to get your Thorn. Now. We’ll take an Ax and meet you there.”

I nod, trying to not make it seem like this is the greatest idea I’ve ever heard. We all take the elevator down, and Rhys and I split away from our team without so much as a good-bye. A minute later we’re sprinting across Central Park, back toward the garage. On both sides of us, Thorns scream away to the south, kicking up big trails of snow with their knobby tires. Overhead, Axes race across the sky. They’re coming from all over the city.

Rhys and I run flat out. I don’t know what the Key is, but I know True Earth possessing it can’t be good.

We make it back to the garage out of breath but warmed up. My legs are shaking—from the adrenaline, I hope. I can’t afford to be weak, even if I did just get out of a tank.

“I’ll drive.” I touch the door on the driver’s side, and it slides up into the frame. Rhys and I pile in, he presses a red button on the dash, and the Thorn hums to life. The console has a screen showing a map with live data of other vehicles in the city, which makes me realize the Roses could’ve tracked this thing right to Noble and Sophia. Wish we had noticed that earlier. Lucky for us, they had bigger things to worry about, and right now there are no other vehicles nearby. The Thorns, marked as red dots, and the Axes, marked in blue, swarm around the city like bees.

I give the Thorn some gas—or whatever this thing runs on—and it shoots forward, crushing a Mercedes and a Bentley that were parked in the two spaces in front of us. We barely feel the impact.

“Nice,” Rhys says.

“It’s touchy.”

I reverse, then roar up the ramp and onto the street. I turn south on Broadway. Ahead and above, a cluster of Axes is spraying down an apartment building with a strange liquid. The bricks and windows are glossy with it, like they’re covered in sap. On ground level, underdressed people are pouring out of the building’s doors, only to be herded by Roses brandishing RAWs and swords. I feel faint pulses of fear rolling off the Roses, enough to subdue the people, to keep them from trying anything stupid but not enough to make them panic. The Roses on the street have formed a perimeter with the Thorns and are standing on top of them, firing nets down at the trapped people.

“What are they doing?” Rhys says.

The liquid covering the building ignites in the next second, fire so bright I have to look away. When my eyes adjust, the building is collapsing inward, melting into a puddle, like it was made of snow. I hit the gas without thinking.

“Miranda, no. No!” Rhys says when he can tell I’m speeding up to ram the nearest Thorn in front of us. “We need to stay undercover! We’re in a good position!”

He punches me in the arm, hard. I lift my foot off the pedal and the Thorn’s whine drops away. Anger dissolves into shame—I almost ruined everything on a knee-jerk reaction.

“What the hell was that?” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m driving next time.”

The other Thorns are backing out of there as the molten remains of the building leak onto the street. Three Axes swoop in, using their downward thrust to knock over the few people who managed to flee. The Roses swoop in and begin scanning people before they can stand up again.

I slam to a stop outside the perimeter, and no one spares me a passing glance. We get out of the Thorn and walk over to the ring of Roses. The tenants of the building are jammed in the middle, clearly terrified out of their minds. The weak fear waves I felt before are stronger the closer I get, an itch I feel on the inside of my skull. The urge to release my own waves is strong and fills me with disgust. An automatic reaction, a kind of pack mentality built into my brain, I guess. I dismiss it, leaving the itch unscratched.

The people are reduced to a clump of miserable, sobbing humans. The Roses sit them down right there on the icy street. There’s not a thing I can do for them right now. I just have to sit there and feel their fear.

And then the director shows up.