Flame (29 page)

Waverly left her hiding spot in the tropics bay and started toward Kieran’s signal, feeling her way in the dark. Luckily it hadn’t taken long to figure out the tracking program on Jared’s com unit. The design of the thing was amazingly simple. Waverly took the starboard outer stairwell, listening for Mather’s guards. She could hear their echoing voices, but they were far enough away that she couldn’t even see their flashlights. When she reached the same level as Kieran’s signal, she opened the door and went into a quiet hallway on the granary level. The ship seemed deserted; she hadn’t run into a single person, so she figured it was safe to use the com unit for light.

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed that Kieran’s signal was now behind her. She turned back and stopped outside a door to what looked like a storage room.
Now what?

Don’t get myself killed, that’s what,
she told herself. She only hoped the lights wouldn’t come back on at a bad time. She knew they operated on a timer, but she didn’t know how long the darkness would last.

She pulled Jared’s small gun from her waistband and looked at it in the dim glow of the com unit. The rifles she’d used before had clearly labeled safety catches, but this one wasn’t labeled. Assuming Jared had kept the safety on, she shifted the button toward the muzzle, then tried opening the door. It was locked. Holding the com device in her teeth so she could see, she pried the faceplate off the locking mechanism and, careful not to touch anything metal, crossed wires until the door clicked open. She waited behind the door, listening for any noise from inside, but there was nothing.

“Kieran?” she called, her voice wispy in the dark. She waited, listening to the thick silence, until she couldn’t wait anymore, and looked into the room using the light from the com device. At first glance, the room appeared empty of people. Had Kieran been untied and the rope left behind? She stepped inside.

A whimper sounded from below, and Waverly shone the light down.

“Serafina!” Waverly cried.

Just then, the lights came back on. She startled and looked around, relieved to find no one else in the room. But where was Kieran?

Blinking against the sudden brightness, she rushed to her young friend who was writhing on the floor, tears streaming over her plump brown cheeks. “Honey!” Waverly tore at the knots that bound the little girl’s hands and ankles.

As soon as her hands were free, Serafina lunged at Waverly, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight, terrified embrace. Waverly held her, rocking back and forth.

“Sweetie.” Waverly knelt down and waited for Serafina to wipe the tears away so she could read Waverly’s lips. “What did they do to you?”

But Serafina grabbed hold of Waverly’s hand and pulled her to the door. She started running down the corridor, tugging Waverly along after her.

“Stop!” Waverly said. She grabbed hold of the little girl’s shoulders, waited until Serafina’s black eyes fixed onto her lips, then she mouthed,
Where is Kieran?

Serafina groaned in exasperation and pulled Waverly farther down the corridor.

“Are you taking me to him?” Waverly asked, feeling stupid.

Serafina pointed down her throat, then patted her pudgy little girl belly, made an expansive gesture with her hands, then threw herself to the floor and played dead.

Waverly stared at her, totally lost. “Did Kieran eat something bad?”

Serafina nodded exaggeratedly and repeated the pantomime.

“Poison?” Waverly said slowly.

Serafina shook her head, moving her hands out from her middle in a gesture that suggested …

“Are they going to blow Kieran up?” Waverly asked in a horrified whisper.

Serafina started crying and nodded.

“Where is he?”

The overhead speaker crackled, and Waverly heard Dr. Carver’s voice. “Pastor Mather’s impeachment proceedings will begin in five minutes. Anyone who wishes to be present is advised to come to the granary immediately.”

“Oh my God,” Waverly said under her breath. She’d forgotten all about Mather’s trial. By the time she recovered herself, Serafina had run ahead toward the granaries. “No!” Waverly cried and chased after her, but she couldn’t move fast enough. Serafina was already darting past a man who was lying on the floor. As Waverly neared him, she saw there was a knife sticking out of his back. She gritted her teeth and pushed past his blank stare and through the doorway after Serafina.

The air was filled with the sounds of a milling crowd. She was at least thirty feet behind the last rows of chairs, concealed by tall corn plants. The room looked different, and it took Waverly a moment to realize that the first time she’d been here, the fields had been planted with wheat. But the crops had been rotated since then, and now tall, green cornstalks reached up toward the lights, their tassels looking like skeletal fingers. Waverly had an unsettling flashback to her first time on the New Horizon, when she was a hostage and forced to come to this room for Anne Mather’s church services. Now it was a courtroom, and the colorful fabrics, the tapestries, the theatrical lighting had all been stripped away. In their place was a bare stage upon which sat the church elders in black robes. In the middle of the stage sat Anne Mather, awaiting her charges, and to the right was Kieran, sitting inside a witness box. Thank God she wasn’t too late!

Serafina dove into a row of corn and Waverly went in after her as the sound of a gavel crashing against wood tore through the air. Waverly finally caught up with Serafina deep in the cornfield, grabbed hold of the little girl, and mouthed,
Run!
All she could think of was Serafina’s mother, long dead, and how she’d asked Waverly to look after her daughter. Waverly kissed Serafina on the forehead, then looked intently into the little girl’s eyes and mouthed,
I can’t let you get hurt!

Serafina grabbed hold of Waverly’s face and stared silently into her eyes until Waverly felt herself calming down. Serafina’s irises were a deep brown, flecked with gold, and they were large, still, deliberate, and soulful. Serafina had something more to say. Waverly took a deep breath.
What is it?
she mouthed.

Serafina stood away from Waverly and made two fists that she held at her sides, puffing out her arms and scowling from under lowered eyebrows—an unmistakable impersonation of Jacob Pauley. Waverly nodded.
The big guy,
she mouthed.
The mean guy.

A quick nod, then Serafina mimed taking something out of her pocket and pushing a button.

“The big guy has a detonator? He controls the bomb?”

Serafina nodded again. Next she held her two fingers close together, then mimed pushing the button again, and ended with the expansive gesture Waverly had come to understand meant explosion.

Waverly shook her head, confused.

Serafina held up her two fingers again, then spread her arms wide to make her fingers far apart. Then she pushed the imaginary button, and this time, nothing happened. No explosion.

Waverly stared at the little girl.

“Jacob has to be near Kieran? For the detonator to work?”

Serafina nodded, going limp with relief.

“You’re amazing.” Waverly kissed her. “Now get as far away from here as you can.”

Serafina didn’t have to be told twice. She sprinted for the door, jumped over the feet of the man lying on the floor, and disappeared down the corridor.

Waverly peeked up through the corn toward the stage. She saw Kieran sitting in the witness box, listening to an official-looking man reading the charges against Anne Mather. Kieran was tiny from here, but she could see he was panting, and he wiped at his brow with the palm of his hand.

What do I do?
She wrestled with a wave of panic that threatened to take over her mind
. I could scream. But then Jacob would detonate Kieran for sure. He must be waiting for Kieran to give his testimony.

Waverly craned her neck over the corn tassels to her right and saw what looked like a rustling in the corn about thirty yards away. She started toward it, moving slowly, edging past each stalk, trying not to touch any of them. She knew she ought to be afraid, but it wasn’t fear she felt. She smelled every honey-sweet kernel of corn, felt every prickly leaf as they brushed the skin of her arms, was aware of every hair on her head and every twitch of her nerves. She heard every nuance in the voice of the judge as he read: “You are accused of crimes against humanity during the initial attack on the Empyrean…”

None of that mattered to Waverly now. She was calm—she had to be—but she knew the truth:
If Jacob sees me coming, we’re all dead.

LIGHT

The lights had just winked back on, and Seth looked at the stage through the spaces between the cornstalks. Jacob had acted worried when the lights turned off, though he made no comment, and he’d pushed Seth recklessly in his wheelchair to the granary. They’d felt their way through the cornstalks, Jacob half carrying Seth, listening to hundreds of alarmed voices reacting to the mysterious darkness. Then they’d crouched in the corn to wait. When the lights came back on, Jacob had stood up briefly to check their position relative to the stage and said under his breath, “Perfect.”

Seth’s entire body was trembling, and he felt the strength in his legs start to give, so he lowered himself to the ground and sat there, panting, his head resting on his knees. He already felt the absence of the IV medication; his pain had doubled, and he felt weak and terribly ill.
I could die right here,
he thought. Tears slipped from between his eyelids when he thought of Waverly and how she’d cried on his shoulder. It was both a comfort and a torment knowing that she would grieve him.

The murmur of the crowd faded away, and he heard the gravelly voice of an old man, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Seth lifted his head to watch Jacob, who had taken an eager step forward, crouching in the corn, a boyish smile on his face.
He’s been looking forward to this,
Seth realized
. He thinks this is going to be the biggest moment of his pathetic life.
Seth could hardly bear to watch, but he studied every nuance as Jacob licked his fleshy lips with a white tongue. For the moment, his hands were empty.

Seth’s stomach heaved, and he spit a flavorless dribble of greenish fluid between his knees. When he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face was numb.

No. No. My God.
He’d tried wiping with his ghost limb. He lifted his real hand to wipe his face, which wasn’t numb after all, and toppled over, rustling the corn around him. He flopped onto his back, looking up at Jacob, who was scowling at him, annoyed.

Jacob sliced across his neck with a flat hand, telling Seth to be quiet, then turned to look at the stage. Seth realized the noise of the crowd had faded away. An old man began reading criminal charges in a slow, rhythmic monotone. “Anne Mather, you are charged with crimes against humanity…”

He gazed at the overhead lights. They cast a yellow-white halo, and he could imagine his soul fusing with that light, dissolving into a trillion photons.
It wouldn’t be so bad,
he thought
if I die, and a part of me goes on, I could follow Waverly around, live inside her hair and whisper in her ear.

Sharp raps of a gavel meeting wood jerked him out of his reverie. The room was filled with sudden silence. It rested over Seth like a pillow, and for a moment he thought it was smothering him. But no. That’s not what was happening. Somewhere along the way his lungs had begun to fill with what felt like fluid, though he didn’t even have the strength to cough. He gulped air, swallowed it into his stomach, pulled at his throat with his ghost hand. He hadn’t expected this. Somehow he’d thought his heart would simply stop. He hadn’t expected dying to be scary.

Don’t be scared of dying,
he told himself.
Be scared you won’t stop Jake from killing Kieran.
Seth took tiny breaths, lots of them, in and out, in and out. He rolled his eyes back to Jacob’s hands. The man held no weapon, so there must be some time left. Seth concentrated on breathing, forced himself to fill his lungs to their breaking point, hold, and release. He did this a few times, trying to force the fluid back, to stretch his lungs out, buy back room for air.

Suddenly an old man’s voice filled the room. “Kieran, in your own words, please, tell the story of the first attack on the Empyrean.”

“I was…,” Kieran began, sounding shaky. “I was in the shuttle bay. I saw the whole thing.”

There was a long pause, so long that Seth could hear a few confused murmurs among the listeners.

Seth saw that Jake was pulling something out of his pocket. It looked jury-rigged, slapped together with tape and wire and putty, but there was something neat-handed about it, as though it had been lovingly crafted. From it extended a small metal antenna, and on the face of it was a glaring red button.

Not a gun, then. A bomb.

Jacob held the detonator in one hand, a finger poised over the button, waiting for Kieran to go on.

He’s waiting for a theatrical moment,
Seth thought with loathing.

Seth reached up toward the device with his good hand, but Jacob was so far away, and Seth was flat on his back, melting into the earth. Kieran started talking again, but Seth couldn’t focus on his words. All he could think about was getting that detonator away from Jake.

If he kicked at the device, he might trigger a detonation, Seth knew. He tried to sit up, but his stomach muscles seized and he was overtaken, his head swimming as the ground dropped beneath him. His body was in rebellion, and he couldn’t move.

“Run,” he whispered. “Kieran.” But Kieran just went on talking. Not even Jacob had heard. Seth tried to yell, but it only made him heave, and more of the green fluid came up.

It felt strange to be losing control like this, and for a few moments Seth could only stair at a browning leaf that hovered over his face, stare at it as his mind emptied, and his only thoughts were located in his drowning lungs. He felt the ghost of his arm reaching up, up, stretching five, ten, thirty feet to the ceiling to touch that light overhead. The burning bulb felt hot and healing to his phantom fingers, and he cupped the light in his palm as the photons fell over his skin like rain. Hundreds of voices raised in an ancient melody, ancient words.
Dona nobis pacem.