by J. R. Harber
“The Social Contracts exist for the safety of us all,” Gabriel said automatically.
“Yes,” David said. “But they were devised in a different time. A dangerous, chaotic time. Many years have passed since then.”
“So, what is it you want to do? Tear down the State and build from the ashes again?” Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not a revolutionary, David, and if you are, I’ll arrest you right now. Sanctuary may be far away, but it’s not beyond the law.”
David raised his hands in a gesture of protest. “No, no. Not revolution. Only change—openness to change, even. That was among the sins that toppled the old civ, you know: resistance to change. Refusal to look with open eyes at the world we had made and ask, is this the only path? Or can we choose another one, a better one?”
“And what is the other, better path?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel inhaled deeply, trying to tamp down his growing frustration. “You’re saying some fascinating things,” he said. He couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. “But I still have no idea what you are planning to do and why you’re trying to include me. Tell me something concrete, or I’m leaving.”
David smiled. “We want to introduce the human element back into the government of the State.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“A small but growing faction. Not only here in Sanctuary but in Work, in the heart of the State itself, and in the highest echelons of …” He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, and Gabriel marked the omission but did not speak. “There are a growing number of people I am in contact with who support this effort,” David went on. “The parameters of my computer program cannot feel. It cannot empathize as people do. It cannot make decisions with both reason and compassion. For that, we also need a human mind at the helm. Your mind, to be specific.”
Gabriel stared at him, astonished. “My mind,” he said at last. “Why mine?”
“Because,” David said simply, “you are the best we have.”
Gabriel sat on the couch and rubbed his temples. “I am not agreeing to anything. In fact, I still might arrest you. But fine, I’ll keep listening. What do you expect me to do?”
David made a satisfied noise and went to his workbench, where he retrieved a stack of small notebooks from a drawer. He sat beside Gabriel and handed him one. “Are you familiar with cyphers?” he asked.
Gabriel shook his head and opened the notebook.
David began to explain the codes and their purpose as Gabriel paged through the books, half in a daze. He was beginning to feel as if all this were happening to someone else, or in a dream, as David continued his instructions. David’s voice alone indicated his advanced age; it was hoarse and sometimes soft. He paused from time to time as he spoke with a pained expression, and Gabriel could not tell if it were the subject or the act of speaking for so long that hurt the old man. At last they came to the final book, identical to the others, and David held it out but did not let go when Gabriel put his hand on it.
“This is a distillation of what you have just learned,” David said. He flipped the back cover open, and Gabriel saw a thin strip of metal affixed to the inside. “This is everything, but I don’t know when or how you will be able to access it.”
Gabriel nodded and took the book. He pried out the metal strip and thought for a moment, then slid it into a hidden compartment in his shoe.
David looked on, amused. “Resourceful,” he remarked. “A few more things before you go: I can’t remove your act of insubordination the way I cleared Asa’s and Eve’s records, since not even I can erase human memory.” He smirked. “At least not from this far away,” he said, and Gabriel bit back a response, not really wanting to know if he was joking. “However,” David continued, “I could not find an official State record of your desertion into the Waste. Whatever your fellow Authority Figures may decide to do with you, they have not yet made it official. Which, in my experience, means there is still hope.” He stood, and Gabriel followed suit.
“How do I get out of here?” Gabriel asked. “By now, the boat has left without me, I assume.”
“There’s a tunnel that runs under the riverbed. You access it through the water treatment plant.”
David went to his workbench again and turned on a monitor. The image was an aerial view of the cottage, and Gabriel came closer to watch as, slowly, the drone’s camera panned to show a water treatment plant not far away.
“You just have to follow the sea wall,” David said.
“I can see that.”
“If anyone stops you, tell them you’re from the State, but not—”
“Not a Contract Enforcer,” Gabriel finished. “I can figure a few things out for myself.”
David had turned away and was rummaging in another drawer. The drone turned slowly, and the image changed, showing what could have been a block of Horizon if it were not set right next to what could have been a farm in Rosewood.
“Lean toward me,” David said, and Gabriel turned.
“What?”
David reached out, and before Gabriel could move, he felt a sharp pain in his neck, and a rush of cold swept through him. He gasped for breath, suddenly light-headed, and felt David easing him down to sit.
“What have you done to me?” he managed to ask, the dizziness beginning to recede.
“I gave you a vaccine,” David said calmly. “You’re having a mild reaction. It should ease within a few minutes.”
Gabriel nodded, still half-certain he had just been poisoned, but the sudden chill was fading. The warmth of the room began to touch him again, and as he took deep breaths, he grew steady. “What did you vaccinate me for?” he asked when the room had stopped spinning and didn’t seem likely to start again.
“Naegleria algernoni,” David said, bending down to peer into his eyes one at a time. “Better known as the Bug.”
“What?” Gabriel started. “The Bug is incurable—everyone knows that.”
David shook his head and straightened. “Oh, the things ‘everyone knows,’” he murmured as if to himself, turning back to the monitors.
“Are you telling me you’ve come up with a cure for the Bug, and you haven’t distributed it? Every man, woman, and child lives in fear of it. We are all at the mercy of the tainted water surrounding us and the danger of a treatment plant failure—it happened twenty years ago in Fairfield, and thirteen people died, raving and in agony. You’re telling me you could prevent that? And you haven’t?”
Gabriel was on his feet without realizing he had stood, trembling with rage. His fists were clenched, and he carefully relaxed them, breathing slowly in and out. David had not moved an inch; he had turned on a different drone feed on a second monitor. It was fixed on an expansive cornfield.
When Gabriel spoke again, his voice was so cold he scarcely recognized it. “You tell me you want to introduce humanity into the State. I don’t know how you would even recognize such a thing.”
David turned around slowly. He had a strange expression on his face. He almost looks pleased, Gabriel thought and took an involuntary step backward.
“You’re right,” David said softly. “To have a cure for a deadly illness—to have the ability, even, to eradicate a scourge that holds all our people hostage—and not use it is monstrous. To allow, as you say, every man, woman, and child to live in fear so they avoid straying too far from home—too far from purified water—so they are dependent on the regulation of the treatment plants. So they are at the mercy of the tainted water everywhere. That is inhuman, indeed.”
Gabriel scanned his face and understood. “You didn’t create the vaccine,” he said, and David bowed his head for a moment.
“I did not.”
“The vaccine is not new,” Gabriel said.
“No, it is not.”
Gabriel nodded, the fury draining from him. His head ached, and it dawned on him that the dull throb had been going on a long time. “I have to go back now,” he said tightly.
“There is far more than I have given you today,” David said. “If you stay a few days—a week—I can teach you to work deep within the Network and leave no trace.”
Gabriel took a long look at the wall of monitors, then met David’s eyes with a wry smile. “No. I’ll figure it out myself,” he said. “I always do.”
“Then get to the tunnel as soon as you can.” David’s face was grim, and he glanced at the drone feeds on the monitors. “When the sky is full of eyes, the only safe place is underground.”
Gabriel nodded, giving him a look of appreciation, then turned without another word and walked out of the cottage. It was almost dark, but he could see the water treatment plant not far away. He set off toward it.
Would you prefer to have had a choice? David’s question nagged at him. Yes, damn it. I’d prefer having one now too.
David leaned back in his chair. He sighed, feeling more tired than he thought he should. He felt like a man at the end of a very long race. His eyes found the monitor presenting the drone footage. One screen followed Gabriel until he reached the water treatment building.
The Contract Enforcer entered without being stopped. David smiled; that didn’t surprise him. Gabriel always acted as if he had the right to be exactly wherever he found himself. It was a useful talent.
Using remote commands, David manipulated drone flight patterns to ensure no observational platforms would be near his residence for the next hour. Secure in the knowledge he’d avoided unwelcome attention, he stood and went downstairs to the basement. There, he flipped a hidden switch. A section of wall slid back to reveal a secret video booth.
Once inside the dark little room, he typed a string of numbers that he knew by heart. For a moment nothing happened, then a bright light flashed across the screen. Her face was revealed. If he was happy to see her, it didn’t show in his expression.
“He’s on his way,” David said without preamble. “I’ve given him everything he needs. The rest is up to him now.”
She seemed poised to reply, but he cut the link and sat for a time, alone in the dark. He thought of Gabriel, of all that lay before him. For the first time that he could remember, he felt old.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EVE WAS QUIET AS ASA STEERED THE BOAT back across the river.
He glanced at her from time to time, but she was just sitting half-turned around in the seat beside him, looking at the way they had come. She had the strip that David had given her in her hand, and she was rubbing the metal with her thumb as if it were some kind of good luck charm. Asa wanted to say something, to reach out to her somehow, but the current had picked up; the boat was drifting downstream more rapidly than before. He locked his eyes on the boathouse and accelerated, trying to offset the rapid sweep of the water.
He managed to bring them alongside the riverbank and spent another few minutes battling ten feet upstream before he managed to get the boat to the opening of the boathouse. “Eve!”
She looked up with a startled expression.
“Help me—get the ropes,” he urged her, and she put the strip in her bag and hurried out into the back of the boat to help him maneuver the rest of the way.
When they were inside the little building, Asa cut the engine and went to the back of the boat. Eve was leaning over the side to reach the lift lever, and she yanked it into position. With a loud grind, the boat began to rise, water dripping from the hull as they rose out of the river.
When the boat stopped moving, Eve went back in the cabin, grabbed her bags, and rushed out onto the deck almost as if she were being chased. Asa followed a pace behind, pausing to make sure he had not left any of the switches on. When he emerged from the boat, Eve was leaning against a shelf full of storage bins, clutching her bag to her chest and breathing shakily.
“Are you okay?” Asa asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She nodded, then shook her head, looking at him with an expression he could not read. Gently, he took the bag from her hands and set it down, then hugged her, letting his cheek rest against her hair as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“We’re okay now,” Asa whispered. “It’s all over. We can go back.”
She tightened her grip. “Can we?” she asked, so quietly he scarcely made out the words.
“Yes,” Asa said firmly. “Everything will be okay.”
Eve sighed, then straightened, pushing away from him. She gave him a weary smile. “If you say so.”
“I do. Come on, we can get back to your brother’s … community before it’s dark, then leave out from there in the morning.”
Eve nodded. She slung her bag over her shoulder again, and Asa did the same. He took a last look at the boat, still glossy with river water. They made their way to the door and stepped out of the boathouse onto solid ground.
“Asa Isaac Rosewood! Eve Layla Ashland!”
They froze and turned to face the voice. It was the stalker who had tracked them to Saul’s compound. He was standing on the bank of the river, ten feet away. He was holding something out, stiffly, in front of him, and his face was red with fury. Asa noticed that his ear was crusted with dried blood where the earlier shot had grazed him.
“Put down what you’re carrying and raise your hands where I can see them,” the stalker said evenly.
Asa eyed the car, only a few yards away, then saw that Eve had already dropped her bags and had her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.
“Asa, he has one of those weapons,” she hissed, and Asa looked; the stalker was aiming a gun at them. Asa suddenly recalled him seizing the weapon from Saul’s guard as he fled. Now he held the thing with steady hands.
Asa dropped his bag and matched Eve’s pose. “What do you want?”
The stalker’s face twisted into a ghastly smile. “By authority of the State—”
A shot sounded, a loud crack splitting the air, and before Asa could think, the stalker rocked backward. For an instant he kept his footing, his eyes wide with shock as a bright red spot of blood bloomed on his left shoulder. He fell backward without even a cry of pain. There was a splash as he hit the river below, then only silence.
“Eve! Evie!” someone called as people ran to them.
Their feet pounded in the dirt as the sound of their breathing and their voices filled the air, blending together as Asa turned to see Saul surrounded by a dozen of his people. Eve turned too, looking dazed as if in a dream, and Saul embraced her, lifting her off the ground and whispering something to her Asa could not hear.
“Are you all right?” asked the woman Asa recognized as Lilith.
He nodded, then turned his eyes back to the river. The stalker’s body was still visible, growing rapidly smaller as it bobbed downstream with the current.
“I don’t think he’ll bother you again,” Saul said, setting Eve down. He touched the gun at his hip reflexively and nodded. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said and smoothed down her hair.
Eve cast her eyes back to Asa and smiled. “I know it is,” she said.
“We’ve got two more cars,” Cyrus said abruptly, giving Asa a sidelong glance as he approached the group. “We had to cram in tight on the way here, so we’ll split up four and five apiece. I’ll drive this one.” He gestured at the car Asa and Eve had come in.
They sorted themselves into the cars; Asa sat beside Cyrus in the passenger’s seat, while Eve, Saul, and a small, thin young man took the back. As they drove, Cyrus kept his eyes on the path ahead, and Asa gazed out the window. He heard Saul and Eve speaking quietly, but he could not make out much of what they said and gave up trying.
The sun was setting as the long, flat-topped compound appeared ahead of them. Asa followed Eve and Saul inside with impatience.
Why can’t we just leave now? I can drive in the dark, he thought, knowing it was unrealistic.
“Get cleaned up, then we’ll gather for dinner,” Saul said cheerfully as they reached the habitation area where Asa and Eve had spent the night before. “
There’s a bathing room down that hallway—conserve water, obviously. It’s pretty scarce out here.”
“Of course,” Eve said quickly.
“I’ll send one of the kids to get you for dinner. So you don’t get lost.” Saul grinned, then left them alone.
“You can go first,” Asa said quickly, and Eve nodded.
“I’ll be fast,” she said.
True to her word, she returned a few minutes later wrapped in nothing but a thin white towel, her amber skin scrubbed clean and her black hair wet and shining.
“I’ll … I’ll go get cleaned up,” Asa stammered, and she smiled.
“Don’t take too long.”
“Okay.” Asa tore himself away, the image of her gleaming skin, so slightly covered, returning to his mind each time he blinked.
When he returned to the room, however, she was wearing a new dress, bright blue and knee length, with thin straps across her shoulders. It was clean but wrinkled from the days in her backpack. She flashed him a brilliant smile.
“A girl came by to take us to dinner,” she said. “You should hurry.”
She had a book in her lap, an old one that must have been in the room. She picked it up and turned her attention to it. Asa hesitated, then took his bag to the opposite side of the room and put on his only change of clothes, glancing nervously at Eve every few seconds. She kept her eyes on her book, never glancing up. He finished buttoning his shirt, which was more worn and crumpled than he would have liked, and cleared his throat. Eve set the book down and turned to him.
“Ready?” she asked, and he nodded. As if on cue, someone knocked on the door, and Eve opened it to let a teenage girl in.
“Are you ready to come to dinner?” the girl asked.
