Fox Forever (29 page)

“Back to back,” I say. I explain to her about my eyes and their ability to see faint images even in complete darkness and tell her I’ll go first. She’ll be a lot more graceful and adept at walking backward than I would be and I’ll be better at guiding us in the right direction. “If you hear
anything
, slash and stab.” Step by step I walk her through the tunnel, telling her when to step left or right to avoid an obstacle. We advance a good fifty feet and I think we’re going to make it without incident when we hear a screech close by and I see movement to our right. I can hear Raine’s sword cutting the air.

“I’m slashing!” she calls frantically. “What’s there?”

I see the outline of the pack. My knife is out, poised, but nothing is coming at us. I force my eyes to pull in every molecule of scattered light, and then I see more. A large half-human at the front of the pack, keeping the rest back, snarling, a small creature at its side. The one I let go? It appears this half-human is letting us pass—at least this once.

“We’re here to get a friend,” I say. “We’ll be passing back this way one more time and then we won’t bother you anymore.”

A flurry of yelps and screeches echo through the tunnel. They growl and they snap and I have no idea if they can understand a thing I said. But beneath the slime, the scabs, and the grotesque lipless mouths, their lidless eyes are still completely human. It makes them even more horrific, trapped in bodies and minds at odds with each other, not even knowing they’re abandoned experiments. I’m glad Raine can’t see in the dark.

“Move slowly,” I whisper. “Stay close. I think they’re letting us pass.”

The pack follows us as we move until we finally reach a point where the tunnel curves again and we see light. White light. The pack scatters in the other direction. We cautiously move forward. Up ahead the tunnel ends and it opens into a large brightly lit chamber with four doors on either side. A Security guard walks past, disappearing down an adjacent hallway.

Raine and I look at each other and nod, our wordless signal that we’re ready. We advance to the chamber, hugging the wall in case the guard returns. I gently ease open the first door, to find an empty room that looks like an office. We move on to the next door, carefully gauging the fall of our footsteps. The second door only reveals a supply room. We both take deep silent breaths and move on to the third door. It has a lock on it, easily opened from this side. As soon as I touch the door, I know. There’s someone inside. “Wait here,” I whisper. “If you hear someone coming, signal me.” I open the door and enter.

The room is antiseptic white, void of any warmth. In the corner, a man lies on a thin ragged mat facing the wall.

“What now?” he asks.

I step closer. “I’m here to take you out.”

He rolls over. “Get out of—” He eyes my clothing and his face sparks with suspicion. “Who are you?”

“The Network sent me. I’m here to take you out.”

He stands, wincing, like the effort pains him. Scars wind across his arms, his neck, another across his jaw and forehead—I assume failed attempts to escape through the tunnels. I notice fresh bruising on his cheekbone. He’s very thin but muscular, clearly still a soldier in his army of one. I can’t believe the legend is standing right in front of me.

“Which game are you playing this time? I’ve seen them all.”

“No game, Karden. This is the real deal. We have to hurry.”

He shakes his head and smirks and then turns away to lie back down on his mat.

“I have your knife,” I say. “Miesha gave it to me.”

He spins.
Dark and dangerous.
His eyes cut through me. I toss him the knife. His reflexes are fast, like Raine’s. He examines the knife, a pained furrow growing between his eyes, as though he’s remembering Miesha. He throws it back to me, disgust crossing his face. “There’s a million knives out there like this one.”

“No, none quite like this one,” I say. “Especially not like the smallest blade.”

His eyes narrow. I have his attention. “You need to trust me,” I tell him. “We don’t have a lot of—”

The door swings open and Raine steps inside. “There are footsteps coming down—”

She freezes, her eyes fixing on Karden.

The air is sucked from the room. Karden looks at her and then back at me, his eyes glassy and wild like I’m playing another trick on him. They see themselves in each other. The striking resemblance is impossible to miss. It’s probably only a few seconds but it feels like a century that each of us waits for someone else to speak.

Finally, I’m the one who has to break the silence. “It’s the real deal,” I say again.

Raine looks away, overcome. “We need to go,” she whispers.

Karden nods, like he finally believes it. “There will be two of them bringing me dinner. Stand behind the door. Now.”

Raine and I move to positions behind the door just as it swings open. The dispatching of two more guards is nearly uneventful, Raine holding her sword to the throat of one before he can draw his weapon, and me grabbing the other from behind, holding him by the neck. They’re both young guards, frightened, pulling the lowest rank of duty. We take their weapons and lock them in the room, warning them to remain silent or we’ll come back and finish them off—or worse, we’ll disable the lights so the creatures of the tunnel take care of our work for us. I quickly check the remaining rooms, praying that Livvy might be in one of them, but they’re all empty. We’re only a few feet out of the chamber when I notice Karden’s severe limp.

“You’re injured?” I ask.

“A bad ankle. The interrogations have been more intense these last few weeks. I can make it, though.”

He won’t make it. Not as far as we have to go. Not to mention the man is malnourished and hasn’t run anywhere in sixteen years. I grab his arm and pull it around my shoulder, taking on the bulk of his weight. “Who are you?” he asks.

It’s a question that’s haunted me ever since I got my life back. A question that Jenna yelled at me as a challenge—it made me leave California, searching for the answer. The original Locke? A fine replica? Bot or man? Or as Kara said,
Only a memory housed in a look-alike body
. Right now the answer is as important as a glass of water in a five-alarm fire.

“A guy in a hurry,” I tell him. “Let’s go.”

Yellow Sea

By the time we make it back to the first panel, Karden is hardly walking at all. He downplayed his injuries. It went far beyond a bad ankle. More likely broken. I suspect some internal injuries too. His breathing is labored. We barely made it through the first stretch of darkness. With only a few days left until the deadline, LeGru and the Secretary apparently stopped caring about the extent of injuries to their golden goose.

On the return trip, the half-humans only stayed at bay for a short time, breaking past the larger creature that held them back. Without Raine we wouldn’t have made it at all. She took out several with her sword before being slashed on her shoulder. We made it to the light panel just in time, sending them scattering.

The dim red light and hum guide us on the last stretch through the tunnel. We emerge into the station like ragged soldiers dragging ourselves the last few steps to home, Karden still trying to hobble along on his one good foot, coughing like fluid is filling his lungs. Raine’s shoulder is drenched with blood though she insists she’s okay.

As soon as we enter the cavern of the station, the distinct salty scent of fresh blood hits us. Even in the suffused red light, we can see the grisly spatter of blood on the walls and floor. The half-humans got something. “Don’t look,” I say. “We’re almost out of here.” But it quickly becomes a moot point. A hand that’s missing three fingers lies in the path in front of us. And just a few feet past that, part of a scalp, the tuft of hair mostly red with blood. I recognize it. He must have run after me, more crazy with greed than with fear at that point, too close to the goal to let it slip away from him.

I hear a muffled gasp from Raine. She recognizes it too but says nothing. For Karden it has been too long to even suspect that these sparse remains are his childhood friend. And as much as I think Carver probably got what he deserved, there’s no satisfaction in the loss. I shouldn’t even compare him to Kara. He chose his own path and Kara didn’t, but still when I glimpse the remains of Carver, I see what was left of Kara, plunging over a cliff.

Up ahead where light floods down the steps at the entrance, I see the silhouette of a man. Karden’s chin lifts. He sees him too. A shuddering breath rattles his chest. “What took you so long?” he calls as we continue to limp forward.

The man doesn’t move. When we get closer his features come into view. The tough grumbly man who is liberal with scowls and spare of words shakes his head, unable to speak. “These things don’t happen overnight, you know,” he finally grumbles back, his voice cracking.

We stop, just a few feet away. Xavier and Karden stare at each other.

“You’ve put on a few pounds,” Karden says.

“And you’ve lost a few.”

Karden pulls away and stumbles forward, the two men embracing, Xavier’s face wrinkling as he holds on to his friend. He finally pulls back, swiping his eye with the heel of his hand. He looks Karden over again like he can’t quite believe he’s really here. “Living the cushy life all these years, huh?” he says.

“Yeah, the accommodations were great.”

Xavier takes a deep breath and tilts his head toward Raine. “You’ve met her?”

Karden turns around to look at his daughter. “Barely.” He takes a shaky step toward her. “Rebecca—”

“My name is Raine now,” she says, correcting him.

Karden shows no sign of offense. There are no illusions that this will be an easy reunion. He’s a stranger to her, and her past experience with a father is not a positive one. “You need to have that shoulder looked at, Raine,” he says and puts his arm on Xavier’s shoulder for support. “You don’t want to end up a scarred buzzard like the two of us.”

She bites her lip and nods. “I will.” I can see she’s relieved at the space he’s giving her, maybe even relieved that he’s nothing like the Secretary. I watch the two of them, eerie mirror images of each other, even down to the way they narrow their eyes as they look at each other. Alike in ways they don’t even know yet, both risk takers, evident from the first time I saw Raine sitting on a rooftop edge dangling her feet over the side, maybe both of them slaves to a gene that craves an adrenaline rush, a balance of power, justice. Maybe both just as subject to their DNA as I am to my BioPerfect.

“But there’s nothing wrong with a few scars,” she adds. “We all have them, even if they don’t show.”

Karden nods, his eyes grim, like he’s remembering all the taunts from the Secretary claiming Rebecca as his own daughter, like he’s imagining what kind of life his daughter has had to live all these years with the enemy.

“We need to go,” she says. “My father—Secretary Branson—is probably loose by now. He’ll stop at nothing to get you back.”

“And you,” I add. The Secretary may want Karden for money, but I saw the wild fury in his eyes as we walked away. He wants Raine for something even more dire. Betrayal.

We make our way up the steps, Xavier holding Karden, who by now has little strength left at all. I step out from the bushes first, seeing if it’s safe. Xavier has a CabBot waiting not far away. I ask Raine to stay with Karden and I wave Xavier out so I can talk to him alone. I tell him about Carver. He squints, a mixture of anger and horror pressed across his face. I know the two of them didn’t get along, but it’s obvious he never expected such blatant betrayal, especially when he learns it was Carver who turned in Karden in the first place. We both agree that now is not the best time to tell Karden.

“There’s only room for the two of you in the cab,” I tell him. “We’ll take the PAT.” I slide the knife into his hand. “Two for two. Karden and the account,” I say. “We did it.”

He looks in my eyes, for once not in a hurry to look away. “Favor,” he answers. “You asked me what the
F
stood for in Mr. F. Favor. Only a code name but not friendly like your friend suggested.”

I grin. “Yeah, I knew it couldn’t stand for that.”

He grins. “I underestimated you, kid.”

“We’re not home free yet,” I answer. “You still have to get back and get that account secured—and hide Karden. The Secretary will be turning this city upside down looking for him.”

Raine comes through the bushes, supporting Karden with her good shoulder. “He’s getting weaker,” she says. “He needs to go.”

Xavier swings Karden’s arm over his shoulder, tightens his grip, and when we’re sure there are no Security vans in sight, makes a run for the cab.

When they’re gone, Raine and I step out, heading for the PAT station, but from out of nowhere a Security van cuts us off, its sirens piercing the air. We run for Beacon Street and the maze of alleys just beyond it that might give us an escape, but another van cuts us off. They converge from all directions, sirens screaming, another, and another, trapping us in the intersection, leaving us nowhere to go, but almost as quickly, yellow cabs invade the spaces between them, a small fleet darting into the intersection, filling it, recklessly ramming vans, stopping, jamming traffic, ten, twenty, thirty, an army of yellow cabs snug against van doors, blocking all possible exits from the vehicles. I see the Secretary in one of them, pounding on the window, trying to disengage it, screaming, his shoulder banging on his door to force it open against the cab that wedges him inside, his face spasming with rage at his inability to stop us when we’re within his sights. I recognize the CabBot crashed up against his door—Bob, the first one I told Dot’s story to.

“What’s happening?” Raine asks.

“A Favor,” I answer. I grab her hand, and through the chaos and snarl of crashed vans and cabs, we escape.

Sanctuary

I savor the silence, a different kind, not the nervous silence that listens for footsteps, or an alarm to ring. Just silence that is warm, slow, gentle to breathe, calm as a summer sea. The kind of silence where small sounds are welcome, the murmur of prayers below, the rumbling roost of pigeons on nearby window ledges, the occasional whispering groan of the ancient organ like it’s still settling in.