Z 2134 (32 page)

The screen
broadcasting Liam in his box went black, then back to bright as it played a
recording of him marching into a City Watch office. He was refusing to spy on
The Underground any longer.

He had been a
traitor!

To The
Underground and — to her father.

Ana stared at
the screen in openmouthed shock.

The screen cut
back to Liam in the box, silence screaming from his mouth as he protested.

“Yes,” Kirkman
said. “Seems your sexy lover Liam was really a spy working
against
The
Underground. How’s that for a WOW moment, ladies and gentleman?”

The audience
oohed.

Ana wasn’t sure
if Liam heard her, but she stared not at the monitor above, but right at him,
glaring through the plastic. “How could you?”

She didn’t
finish with “betray my father?” since The Games had never announced Jonah as an
Underground rebel, and Ana didn’t want to risk anything happening to her father
in City 7 if word got out.

If Liam was a
spy for City Watch, maybe he was responsible for her father’s framing. Perhaps
it was he, not she, who was to blame for those deaths at Duncan’s church.
Perhaps — Ana shuddered at the thought — he was also responsible for her
mother’s death.

Ana swallowed,
blinking back tears as she continued to glare at Liam.

You did this!

Liam kept
screaming, punching the plastic, his face red and raging.

Ana repeated:
“How could you?”

Kirkman said,
“So, Anastasia, are you READY to decide? Remember, you’ve only got 60 seconds,
which we’ll be counting down on the center monitor. You can open Charlotte’s
box at any time by simply pressing her screen and sending the itty bitty girl
from City 2 into the zombies’ mauling arms, or…you can punish your lover for
his shocking betrayal by pressing his screen and feeding The Underground scum
to the starving zombies! The choice is yours, Lovely Lovecraft.”

Large white numbers
appeared against a black screen on the center screen.

“The time is on
the clock, and we’re starting…NOW!”

The monitor
ticked life away for either Liam or Charlotte, demanding that a decision be
made.

60…59…58…

Ana went back
and forth in her mind, waffling between Charlotte and Liam.

No straight
line; no right, wrong, or easy decision.

She had to
decide.

Who to kill?
Man or child? Friend or stranger?

New friend or
traitor?

45…44…43…

A broth of rage
bubbled inside her as Ana turned her head from one screen to the other, hating
Kirkman, The Games and the universe for thrusting the awful choice upon her.

Liam had
betrayed her father. But he had saved her as well. It also seemed that he had
purposely surrendered his freedom at the exact moment she was losing hers,
thrusting himself into The Games.

Why would he
do that?

Did he do it
for me?

34…33…32…

Would a
traitor do that?

29…28…27…

She stared at
Charlotte’s monitor and the girl’s sad eyes. She’d been through so much in her
short life.

How can I do
this to her?

She’s so
young. So innocent.

And Liam is
so guilty.

17…16…15…

Maybe there’s
more to the story than what Kirkman is showing?

10…9…8…

There has to
be some logical explanation. Maybe it’s what Liam is trying to scream, and
that’s why they’re silencing his monitor.

But The Games
left few seconds for details.

5…4…3…2…

Ana swallowed
hard as she slammed her hand onto Charlotte’s monitor, collapsing to her knees
in a flood of tears and staring up at the screen rather than at the little
girl’s box, unable to look directly into her decision, but unwilling to grant
herself full pardon from the horror.

Her speaker
screamed and crackled as Charlotte curdled her lungs at the zombies bursting
into the safety of her cell.

Most of the
carnage was buried beneath a sea of undead bodies, swarming in front of the
lens as Charlotte drowned in their waves. Ana heard every sound and imagined
what was happening under the ripping flesh as it echoed against the plastic
walls, one zombie after another reaching into her twitching body — as evidenced
by her visible and still shaking feet — and pulling handfuls of gore from the
little girl’s body before shoving her pieces into their mouths, groaning and
growling and moaning from their bloody maws as blood painted the inside of the plastic
box.

One zombie pawed
at another, tearing Charlotte’s intestines from its hands, then violently
stuffing the pile into its mouth. Ana lost her vomit. She turned, splattering
plastic with green-and-yellow paint as she held her side and retched again.

Charlotte’s box
disappeared on the monitor above, along with Liam’s and the expired countdown,
then Kirkman’s face filled every screen, along with his cackling voice.

“Ah, folks,
we’ve got a coldhearted killer here — no mercy from this one! Look out, players,
the apple does NOT fall far from the murdering tree! Anastasia Lovecraft will
kill anyone in her way, including teeny tiny little girls, and even after they
saved her miserable life! I’d boo if this Game wasn’t SO MUCH FUN!”

The audience
laughed, then Kirkman grew mock serious: “Can Ana kill her lover when she must?
Will she be able to forgive him before one of them dies, or are things between
them different forever?”

Ana looked over
to Liam’s box. He was staring down at the ground, away from the camera.

Good, hide
your face in shame. Asshole.

Both of their
boxes began to descend into the tunnels below.

Ana forced
herself to look back at the carnage that had been a child 60 seconds before.

Oh God, what
have I done?

J
onah had no
idea how long he was alone before Calla finally came into his room with food
and water. Like before, she shoved bites into his mouth, chasing each swallow
with a roughly poured stream of water, more of which got onto Jonah’s coveralls
than down his throat. He noticed almost immediately, however, that something
was different.

Calla seemed
gentler. More than that, there seemed to be a new and odd understanding in her
eyes. He said nothing as she fed him, but once finished, Jonah asked Calla if
she had seen The Games. After two minutes of awkward small talk, he followed
his first question with the one on his mind, almost painful as he pushed it
from his throat.

“Is Ana still
alive?”

“Yes,” Calla
nodded. “For now. She was put into a barn with her lover, Liam, and a lil’
girl, Charlotte.”

“
Lover?
Liam Harrow? From City 6?”

“Yes, they’re
workin’ together. They’re lovers, both workin’ in The City 6 Underground.”

Nothing made
sense. So many things must have happened since he was framed and cast out from
his City. How was it possible that Ana and Liam, a man he thought of as a son,
had wound up in The Games together?

Jonah chose to
ignore the “lovers” remark almost entirely, save for the nagging buzz rattling
at the back of his head. Everyone knew Liam was a ladies’ man, and of course
Jonah saw Ana being attracted to someone like that, especially since he’d been
absent for large patches of her life — first working too many long hours for
City Watch, then for The Underground — but it seemed more like a manufactured
way of selling the players than like the truth.

“You said she
was put in the barn; what do you mean?”

“They fell
’sleep in a cave, and woke in a barn. The TV man said they’d start ta’ mornin’
with a brand new mini-game, but they weren’t awake.”

Sweat beaded
Jonah’s brow. Nothing about a new mini-game was good. Mini-games usually meant
death for at least one player, and often pitted players against each other.
Liam clearly held an advantage over two girls, and Jonah knew the Network
crafted games for only two reasons: to manipulate results and viewer reaction.

“Will you let me
know what happens?” Jonah asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

“Yes,” Calla
nodded. And then almost immediately, she followed with, “What’s it like in Ta’
City?”

Jonah again
tried to place her accent, wondering where it was from and why he’d never heard
anything like it. Was this what a life spent in The Barrens sounded like? While
that seemed like an obvious answer, no, it didn’t make sense. Her father, Egan,
spoke like anyone else from City 6. And surely their community had to be filled
with countless others who had once lived behind The Walls. Why would the girl’s
speech be corrupted if she wasn’t living in isolation?

Jonah smiled,
not wanting to scare her, deciding to start his story soft, playing up the
better stuff and gauging her reaction, tailoring his description to what he
thought she wanted to hear.

“It’s fun,” he
said. “At least most of the time. The City is centered around clusters of
entertainment, with giant arcades, bars, libraries, theaters, and even live
music. Of course, The Games are everywhere — on TVs in our homes, in public
meeting places, and even in the break rooms in some jobs. There are smaller
cafes and restaurants, with two types of food: rationed and wonderful. The
wonderful tastes like heaven but costs far too many credits — those are funds
issued by The State.”

“I know what
credits are,” she said. “What is the food like?”

Calla looked
like she was about to drool thinking of the food, making Jonah wonder if the
mush and water she pushed through his mouth was any worse than what she ate
herself.

“It’s OK,” he
shrugged, “depending on your ration level. For the higher flats, I hear it’s
wonderful, and the few times my tongue got a taste, I’d have to agree.”

Jonah smiled for
Calla’s benefit, but also at the memory. She stared, wide-eyed and waiting for
more. “There’s little variety in the food, and the cafes are mostly the same.
The Social is The City’s biggest gathering spot, a bar with food, drinks — both
alcohol and sugar water, card games, and monitors broadcasting The Games.
There’s several of these bars, with at least one every few blocks. It’s where
most adults and some of the older kids meet up and spend time together.”

“That doesn’t
sound so bad,” Calla said. Jonah noticed that she was taking her time, speaking
her words slowly, as if trying to mimic a more proper English. “Daddy says it’s
awful behind The Wall. There’s lots of crime, poor people, and disease. An’ you
always hafta’ work hard, at jobs you don’t choose.”

“Well,” Jonah
didn’t want to disagree with whatever Egan had said. “It can be hard. But I’m
guessing you have to work hard here, too, right?”

The girl nodded.

Jonah continued,
“But yes, there’s lots of bad stuff, too. And bad people. Though the Watchers
try to keep peace and order…well, the good ones, anyway. Your father’s right
that it’s probably best to be outside The Wall, as long as you can keep clear
of the zombies. You’re lucky you have this place.” Jonah nodded, gesturing
around him. “You have a safe place. You’re protected from the zombies. And you
have a community of good people to look after you.”

“People?” Calla
repeated.

“Yeah, in your
village here, or whatever you’re calling it.”

“There’s not
many people here,” Calla shook her head. “Only us.”

Jonah shook his
head. “What do you mean,
only us
?”

“Me, the two
boys from when we saved you, Father, an’ Verosh.”

“Verosh?”

“She’s my mom
now. She’s from far away. She saved my father after he won The Games.”

That might
explain the accent, but something still felt wrong.

“What about the
others?”

“What others?”
Calla shook her head. “We’re here alone. Dad doesn’t trust the others in the
villages or The City. He says we hafta live here.” After a second of silence,
Jonah thought she had finished, but then Calla added, “It’s lonely most of the
time.”

“You mean
there’s no council? No — ”

Calla’s eyes
fell to the floor, then drifted to the wall. “Oh. Uh…” she stammered. “I’ve
gotta go.”

“Wait,” Jonah
said. “I won’t say anything to get you in trouble. I swear.”

She turned,
looking Jonah over from eyebrow to toe, obviously unsure whether she trusted
him.

“I’ll tell you
whatever you wanna know about The City. Anything at all.”

“Anything?”

“Yes,” Jonah
nodded. “Anything. But please don’t leave. You’re the only one here who treats
me like a person.”

She looked back
at the ground, as if kindness were insulting, or an open invite to guilt.

Calla stared at
the man responsible for her mother’s death. “OK,” she said, squinting, “but I
don’t wannna know about The City. I want to know ’bout somethin’ else.”