Partials

by Dan Wells

  “Are the mothers okay? How many people died?”

  “Maternity was untouched,” said Torvar. “And I’m afraid I don’t have exact numbers—probably less than the Senate is reporting, probably more than you’d expect.”

  “What is the Senate reporting?” asked Kira.

  “Two hundred.” Tovar’s voice was as hard as flint. “A very high price for a Partial life.”

  It was worth it, Kira swore, though it broke her heart to think it. Two hundred. She looked up at Tovar, still not sure she trusted him enough to explain why they’d be willing to go to such an extreme. They were still prisoners, after all; he’d offered them nothing but information, and promised them nothing at all.

  “Who’s left of the senators?” asked Xochi. “Apparently my mother, but who else?”

  “It might be more accurate to ask what’s left of the Senate,” said Tovar. “The few senators who lived through the night declared a state of emergency, declared martial law, and filled the city and the countryside with soldiers from the Grid. Elections to replace the fallen have been postponed until ‘a state of peace and equilibrium is reached,’ which is an awful lot of syllables for ‘never.’ It’s totalitarianism in all but name.”

  “Yes,” said Kira, “but who are we talking about specifically? Which senators?”

  “Oh, you know,” said Tovar with a shrug, “the real hardliners, like Kessler and Delarosa. Hobb’s a weasel, so of course he’s in there as well, and the one from the Grid—Senator Weist. That’s how they got the military’s support so quickly.”

  “The same ones who’ve been running this from the beginning,” said Kira. Her skin went cold, and she gripped Xochi’s hand for support. “They planned this entire thing—Samm, and the explosion, and even the riot. This isn’t a provisional government in the wake of a national disaster, this was a planned and calculated coup.”

  “They couldn’t have planned Samm,” said Marcus. “They had no idea you were going to go out and get him.”

  “Who is Samm?” asked Tovar.

  “The Partial,” said Kira. “And they didn’t have to plan his capture, just what to do with him afterward. They’d probably been planning some kind of power grab for a while, and then when we showed up with Samm, we gave them the means to pull it off.”

  “They’re only in charge until the city gets back on its feet,” said Jayden, “and they’re only doing it because of the riot we caused. What else were they supposed to do?”

  “Do you actually believe that?” asked Xochi.

  “They responded too quickly,” Kira protested, feeling the rage build up inside of her. It was so familiar now, so much a part of her, that it filled her easily. “They had to have a plan already in place, to deal with exactly the kind of situation we forced them into—we started a riot, and they went to Plan F or whatever and seized the whole island. Even when we thought we were stopping them, they were still ready for us.”

  “They’re trying to save the species,” said Jayden. “Yes, they’re being extreme about it, but maybe that’s the only way to make it work—a solid grip on the island, with a single vision to lead it and army to enforce it.”

  “Remember where you are,” said Tovar.

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” said Jayden, “but they don’t have the—” He stopped, glanced at Kira, and started again. “For all they know this is the only way to save us from RM: to take the Hope Act to its natural extreme and ranch us like cattle until someone’s born immune.”

  “Delarosa used to be a zookeeper,” said Kira softly, thinking of all her friends still trapped inside the city.

  Tovar snorted. “No kidding?”

  She nodded. “She saved endangered species. I guess we’re just another bunch of rare white rhinos.” Kira swallowed her rage and took a long, deep breath. “Mr. Tovar,” she said, looking up to meet his eyes. “We need to get back to East Meadow.”

  “Then you’re crazy,” he said.

  “Crazy or not,” she said, “we need to go. And you need to take us there.”

  “Then you’re crazy and stupid,” said Tovar. “In three days, when all my forces are gathered, we’re going to launch our biggest offensive yet. It’s like your friend said—when the entire species is at stake, people are willing to go to extremes. We’re going to take that government down and you do not want to be anywhere near it when we do.”

  “Three days?” Kira’s mind raced. “That might be all we need. If you can get us there without being seen, actually inside the city, we might not need a war at all.”

  Tovar frowned. “I’m not an assassin, Kira, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And I’m not a martyr either. Getting you or anyone else into East Meadow would be extremely dangerous. When I die it’s going to be for a pretty damn good reason.”

  “A good reason is not the problem,” said Kira, and held up the syringe. “We have the cure for RM.”

  Tovar stared at it, his mouth open, then laughed out loud. “And you expect me to believe that?”

  “You believed all the crazy bad stuff,” said Xochi, “why not the crazy good stuff, too?”

  “Because crazy bad stuff is well within the realm of my experience,” said Tovar. “Curing RM is in the realm of magical pixies and talking dogs that piss whiskey. It’s impossible.”

  “It’s real,” said Marcus, and looked at Kira. “We’ll stake our lives on it.”

  “Suppose it is,” said Tovar. “What do we do with it? Walk into town, hold it in the air, and wait for the magical pixies to make everything right again?”

  “If the Senate taught me one thing,” said Kira, “it’s that power comes through the people—the only reason they have control is because the people have given it to them.”

  “Also because they have guns,” said Marcus.

  “They don’t have guns,” said Xochi, “they have the allegiance of people with guns.”

  “Exactly,” said Kira. “If we can change that allegiance, we can free everyone in the city—everyone on the island. If we show them a live human baby, the purest, simplest proof that our way works and the Hope Act doesn’t, the people will rise up so fast your head will spin. We can restore freedom and unite the island, all without firing a single shot.”

  “Say your cure works,” said Tovar, “and we can actually show them, as you say, a live human baby.” Tovar’s voice nearly broke, and Kira could practically see the emotion running through him as he said the words. “You’ve already been in league with the Partials—you’ve crossed the sound and met them in person. Won’t people just assume it’s a Partial trick of some kind? A baby Partial, or an engineered … doppelganger or something?”

  “The mother will have to be an East Meadow regular,” said Marcus, “someone people will recognize as one of their own.” He glanced at Jayden. “His sister is about to deliver—she may already have.”

  Kira nodded. “It’s not enough to just show up with a baby: we have to go in, grab Madison, and get her out. Right under the Grid’s noses.”

  Tovar looked at Kira. “I get the distinct impression that nothing is ever easy where you’re involved.”

  “Welcome to my life,” said Kira. “How many soldiers do you have?”

  “Ten.”

  Kira raised an eyebrow. “I saw a lot more than ten in the backyard alone.”

  Tovar’s voice hardened. “Are you asking about soldiers, or armed civilians with more guts than training?”

  “Point taken,” said Kira.

  Tovar studied them carefully, his eyes flicking from one face to the next as he thought. “We may—may—have a way to get you inside. Are you sure you can do it?”

  Kira grinned. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the most wanted criminal on the island. I think it’s about time I start living up to my reputation.”

  “Hell, yes,” said Xochi.

  Tovar paused, studying her, his brow furrowed. Finally he broke into a smil
e. “When you put it that way,” he said, “I’m pretty sure I heard a talking dog just last week. Didn’t drink its piss, though.” He stood up. “It’s still midmorning, and the weather’s with us; if we start now, we can get you beaten and in police custody before dinner. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, though. I’ll round up the troops.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  One of the tricks up Tovar’s sleeve turned out to be uniforms: dozens of Defense Grid uniforms stolen from the depot they’d raided in the old East Meadow High School. “We stole a mountain of ammunition and trail rations, too,” he said slyly, “just to make it look like we were after their supplies, but this was the real prize. Worth a thousand bullets each if you use them right.” Kira nodded and shrugged one on over her normal clothes.

  The living room, already cramped, was now packed with an assortment of Voice leaders. Kira studied them as they talked, poring over makeshift maps of the island; they were determined, at the very least, and appeared capable enough, but they lacked the smoothness she had seen with the Defense Grid. The Grid was better organized, even for something as simple as a salvage run. One person laid out the plan, while the others listened attentively. The Voice could not have been more different.

  “This is Farad,” said Tovar, pointing to a stern man with a fiery shock of red hair. “The uniforms are nice, but he’s our real secret weapon: a Grid soldier, so newly defected to our cause that the Grid leaders, we hope, don’t even know he’s left.”

  Farad glanced around the room nervously, visibly uncomfortable in a room full of people who were so recently his enemies. “I tried to hang on after the riot,” he said softly, “and the new rules, but… I just can’t anymore. They’ve taken this too far.”

  “Farad was a driver,” Tovar continued, “and it just so happens that we’ve recently, ah, liberated a jeep from a Grid outrider.” He turned to Kira. “Probably one of the same ones that tried to chase you down after the riot. It’s in good condition, has a covered back with the official Grid logo, and Farad knows the passwords to get it through the border.”

  “He knew the passwords,” said a large man by the wall; he was old, with gray hair and a beard, but his arms were thickly muscled. “They might have changed them—they will have changed them if they’re smart.”

  “But they don’t know I’ve left,” said Farad. His voice was thin and cracking. “I mean, they can’t know, right? Not this quickly?”

  “As far as they know you’re still on a scouting mission,” said Gianna. “Of course, if you run into anyone who knows you’re supposed to be on a scouting mission, it won’t matter how many passwords you have.”

  “Even in these uniforms they’re going to recognize us,” said Jayden. “Kira and Marcus at the very least once we get to the hospital—everyone there knows them.”

  “And they’re the ones who know the hospital,” said Tovar. “None of us do, at least not well enough. Here’s the plan: Farad drives you back and gets you through the border, while the more notorious members of your band stay in the back and keep your eyes down. It’s risky, but if you’re careful you can make it work. You drive to the hospital, to that rear service door you were telling me about.”

  “The same one we slipped out of the night of the riot,” said Kira. “There’s a big ramp leading down to it, which will make us hard to see—any guard around the building will know we’re there, obviously, but they won’t have a good look at anyone who gets in or out of the jeep.”

  Tovar nodded. “Make your way through the lower levels, up to maternity, and grab your friend. This is the trickiest part.”

  “Which is why I’m going,” said Gianna. “Once you guide us through the back hallways, I can get in and out of maternity without raising eyebrows—nobody knows me, and with this uniform I’ll look official.”

  “You hope,” said the bearded man.

  “Seriously, Rowan,” said Tovar, “is this really the time? Do we have to argue with every little step of the plan?”

  “Your so-called plan is just ‘good luck and don’t act suspicious,’” said the bearded man. “You’re sending them into the heart of enemy territory, I’d like to think you’d have something a little more workable.”

  “I don’t even want them to go,” said Tovar, throwing up his hands. “I’m trying to plan a full-scale assault of this city, and this is the best I could come up with given my time and resources.”

  The bearded Rowan turned to Gianna. “Are you willing to risk your life for ‘the best he could come up with’?”

  “We’re willing to risk it for this,” said Kira, and held up the syringe. “This is not an abstract concept, this is an actual cure—an actual injection that will save a child’s life. Can you even imagine that? A living, breathing child that lives for a week, a month, a year; a child that laughs and crawls and learns to talk.” Her voice cracked. “I would die for that in a heartbeat.”

  The room was silent.

  Rowan stirred first. “Being worth the risk doesn’t justify a risky plan.”

  “This plan will work,” said Tovar fervently. “Farad has the codes, and our informants in the city have fed us the full rundown of hospital security. We can get them in, and we can get Madison Sato out. We’ll take her to the eastern farms, she can deliver there, and the baby will live.”

  “I’m going to split the cure into three separate doses,” said Kira. “One stays with Tovar, here in the back lines, to be used on Madison’s baby Arwen. The second goes with us, just in case Arwen has already been born; depending on how advanced the virus is, we have to inject her on-site.”

  Tovar pointed at Rowan. “The third goes with you, east to Flanders or Riverhead or somewhere the Grid presence is weakest. Inject every newborn you can find.” He looked at the syringe in Kira’s hands. “The cure is too important to risk on a single mission.”

  Kira nodded, but a niggling voice in the back of her mind posed the question: Do I have the pheromone? If I’m really a Partial, can I cure RM too? She almost didn’t dare to consider it—didn’t dare to hope—it would be too easy, and nothing so far had been easy. As soon as I get the chance—as soon as I have the right equipment—I have to test myself.

  Gianna whispered reverently. “We’re pinning an awful lot of hope on this.”

  “I know,” said Kira.

  “So that’s the team,” said Rowan, “Gianna, the new guy, and these two medics.”

  “And us,” said Jayden. “Madison’s my sister.”

  Xochi nodded. “And Kira’s mine.”

  Kira felt a pang of conscience, as stark as if she’d willfully betrayed them all. What would they do if they knew what I really am?

  The car died two miles northeast of East Meadow. Gianna and Farad spent nearly an hour under the hood, cursing and banging and trying to get it started; Kira and Marcus sat by the curb and planned their route through the hospital: where to go, how to get there, and what specific medical phrases to teach Gianna to help get Madison out of the nurses’ sight. Kira had kept the syringe in her own gear, carefully wrapped and cushioned and strapped to her waist. She touched it reflexively, making sure it was safe. Farad walked over tiredly and dropped a chunk of oily black metal on the road beside her.

  Marcus looked at it. “Bad gas?”

  “The gas is the cleanest I’ve seen in a while,” said Farad. “This is the starter—it’s not cracked or bent or gummed up, it’s just … old.” He flopped down on the curb beside them. “Of all the things that could have gone wrong, I never would have guessed this.”

  “But you can still get us in,” said Kira, “right?”

  “I could get me in,” said Farad, shaking his head. “You’re too famous, and without the jeep to hide in I just don’t see it working. And even if I could get in, one guy wandering home alone is going to raise a lot more eyebrows than a full squad with a vehicle. I’d certainly be questioned, probably detained, and in any case would never be able to get to your friend in time. I definitely couldn’t get
her out.”

  “Let’s look at our options,” said Jayden. “We can’t just give up, and we don’t have time to go back.”

  “We could find another Grid patrol and steal their jeep,” said Xochi.

  “I meant realistic options.”

  “We could probably get one of these other cars running,” said Gianna, but Farad shook his head.

  “They’ll know the difference between a fleet vehicle and a salvage,” he said. “With enough time and the right equipment, maybe, but we have to do this now if we want to stop Tovar from a frontal assault. He hasn’t given us much leeway.”

  “We’ll have to cross on foot,” said Kira. “That’s never been hard before—the border’s too big to patrol the entire thing.”

  “East Meadow’s never been under martial lockdown before,” said Gianna. “We have informers on the inside, and we’ve scouted the perimeter. It’s as tight as a drum.”

  Kira looked at the sky, guessing at the time of day—late afternoon. “We’ll try to slip through in the dark. Does your radio pick up the Grid channels?”

  “Of course,” said Gianna, “just like their radios pick up ours. Anything important will be in code.”

  “And I don’t know them all,” said Farad.

  “Then we’ll have to make do,” said Kira, standing up. “Let’s find a weak spot in the border.”

  They struck south on what a battered street sign eventually identified as Walt Whitman Road. They passed a long shopping mall on one side, and a few hours later a deeply wooded park on the other. Once, across a wide parking lot, they saw a group of Grid soldiers investigating a tall, shattered-glass office building. The soldiers waved and shouted a greeting, the noise echoing emptily across the expanse, and Farad waved and shouted back. The soldiers turned and went back to their work. Kira kept a steady pace until they got out of view, then hurried the group along to put as much distance between them as she could. They saw more border patrols as they drew closer to the eastern edge of the city, security getting tighter and tighter, until finally they saw in the distance a road completely blocked by cars—more than just the detritus of eleven-year-old traffic, these cars had been hauled into place and braced with sheets of wood and metal. Kira shook her head, muttering lowly.