The Child Thief 6: Zero Hour

by Forrest, Bella

  Robert sighed heavily. “He introduced himself as a friend of Nathan’s. He said he’d noticed that I wasn’t very active on the chat features and thought I might need a friend. He asked if I had any friends.” Robert squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled. “I told him I didn’t. He said he had some software that would help us, and if I pretended like the software was my own, people would be impressed and would treat me differently. Like they’d start to notice me for once. So I started talking to Gabby, and I sent it to her.”

  It was uncomfortable to listen to Robert share such personal details. I always thought Robert was a loner by choice, not because he was lonely and didn’t know how to make friends. Had Piper been looking for someone just like that? Someone who was alone and easy to manipulate? Someone who wasn’t yet loyal to Little John and Nathan?

  “Didn’t you wonder why he was talking to you or trying to help?” Abe asked.

  “I thought he was my friend,” Robert replied. It was pathetic, but it made me feel a twinge of pity for him.

  “What happened after you joined Little John?” Jace asked Robert, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “I didn’t get on the tech team. I was upset. When I talked to Piper about it, he said my talents were being wasted in Little John because Nathan couldn’t recognize them. And that was how I felt too,” Robert replied. “So when Piper said he was building a new team that was going to work with the regime instead of against them, and that I was his first recruit, I thought maybe I’d be valued somewhere. Like I’d finally fit in.”

  “You betrayed us all . . . so you could fit in?” Nelson said, her voice dripping with loathing.

  “Piper said Little John could never win,” Robert went on. “He said that once the government beat us we’d all get jail time, or worse. But that if I helped, he’d clear me of any charges. He’d set me up with money and security. And I’d never had those things before.”

  “Neither had I,” Jace retorted. “But it didn’t make me a traitor.”

  “Why did Edgewood get attacked?” Zion asked.

  “Piper said it was time to make his move and go to Chanley, while the mission teams were all gone and couldn’t stop us. He said he was going to turn off the projection and have the surveillance building blown up to make it look like he was dead. He asked me to set it up so it looked like someone else might’ve done it,” Robert answered.

  “Henry,” I interrupted. “The person you framed, the mechanic, was my good friend. His name was Henry.”

  “Piper told me to frame him,” Robert replied, his voice cracking. “He was just the easiest target, since he showed up so unexpectedly. I didn’t do it to hurt anybody. I just didn’t want anyone to suspect me.”

  I stared at Robert, feeling anger bubbling up inside of me. Henry’s last days had been lonely and miserable because of Robert. And I could never make that up to him now.

  “What about Brightbirch?” Aurora asked.

  “I wasn’t working with Piper anymore,” Robert replied, looking scared and small. “I felt awful after what happened at Edgewood. I didn’t know it would be a full attack like that. I didn’t know so many people were going to die.”

  “You thought just a few would die, and you were okay with that?” Gabby countered, her voice taut with indignation.

  Robert didn’t reply.

  “So Piper attacked Brightbirch without your help,” Aurora clarified. “But how did he get a message here to Robin about her daughter?”

  “I did that,” Robert answered. “But I only did it because Piper said it would help us prevent all-out war. And I didn’t want any more blood on my hands.”

  We were all quiet when Robert finished, as his testimony sank in and we considered the implications.

  Finally, I broke the silence. “I believe you, Robert. I really do. Maybe Piper was looking for a weak link and he took advantage of you. Maybe he knew you were desperate for approval. Desperate for a friend. But it doesn’t change the fact that you aided and abetted murder. A lot of murder.”

  Robert’s eyes started to glisten with tears.

  “I know, Robin,” he said. “I will never be able to forget that. I think about it every day.”

  I stared at Robert, feeling a strange mix of anger, pity, and disgust, as he started to sob.

  “I deserve whatever I get,” Robert said through his tears.

  “We’ll make sure it’s fair,” Aurora said simply. “There’s a holding cell in the back of the base. You can stay there until your trial.”

  Then Cloyd was leading Robert away, following Aurora to the cell. It was bittersweet to watch them go. I was glad to hear what had happened, and to know that Robert would soon receive justice, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t bring back Lux, Rio, Pyro, Fiora, or any of the others who had died during base attacks. It didn’t bring back Henry.

  And it didn’t make things feel any less uncertain than they had when I first stepped off the airship after returning from Chanley. Only one thing could.

  40

  Rosecrest was a small, middle-class town just like many others in the United Nation of America. It hadn’t become so poor that no one was able to keep their children, unlike most of the factory towns, and so it had a schoolhouse in its main square. There was also a grocery store and a government registration office and even a small hotel. And there was also a hospital.

  And in that hospital, the man who had brought down the Burchard Regime was making a full recovery.

  It had been a week since the attack on Chanley. Seven very strange, very busy days for the country. The news about Burchard had gotten out to the whole world, and, with the exception of a few very, very wealthy families, everyone in the country seemed to be celebrating.

  For the first few days, with every news story, things seemed to be getting better. Corona and the rest of the Little John base leaders had stepped up to set up temporary councils and governing bodies until an election could be held. Then Preston Industries’ owners and stockholders—including Mavis’s husband—were arrested for treason, their wealth and assets seized to assist the needy through welfare programs. Child redistribution was ceased entirely, with the redistribution records finally being made public for family members to reconnect. All adoptions occurring within the past three years were immediately declared illegal and in need of reversal, and all other adoptions were considered “in mediation” so that adoptive parents and birth parents could meet with lawyers present and determine how to proceed in the best interests of the child.

  On paper, it was a wonderful fix. But it became obvious fairly quickly just how difficult the process of rectifying Burchard’s wrongs was going to be.

  Tens of thousands of adoptive parents were in turmoil over the sudden losses of their children. Numerous birth parents wanted their children back but complained that they simply couldn’t afford to take them. And all redistributed children over the age of three were now facing complicated and prolonged legal battles over their custody, with many arguing that it was a cruel and costly way to go about things.

  To complicate matters further, the country was broke. All of the money was privately owned, and the wealthy were arguing that it would be theft to take the money from them. And while a huge amount of money had been seized from the Prestons after their arrests, it still wasn’t enough to rebuild a nation. Corona and the base leaders were doing their best, but it was obvious that an election needed to be held quickly. And whoever won needed to be capable of steering a wounded country out of the quagmire that Burchard had left behind.

  Which is what brought us to Rosecrest.

  “Does Corona really think this will work?” Jace asked as we stared at the front doors of the small hospital.

  “I don’t think she would’ve asked us to do it if she didn’t,” I replied.

  “But I mean, if Aurora and Corona couldn’t get through to him, then who are we to convince him?” Jace went on.

  I was feeling similarly. While I agreed that Nathan was the be
st candidate to lead the country, he wasn’t exactly a candidate yet, since he didn’t want to run for office. Even his family and base leaders hadn’t been able to convince him. But in a final effort, Corona asked Jace and me if we would be willing to talk to him.

  “She thinks it might mean more to him if it comes from members of one of his mission teams,” I replied.

  I wasn’t entirely convinced, but Corona was so hopeful, despite being terribly busy and stressed out from working on the temporary councils, that I felt like I couldn’t turn her down.

  “Well,” Jace conceded, “I guess we’ll give it our best shot.”

  We walked through the hospital doors together.

  “Room 304,” I said, remembering the directions Corona had given me. “On the top floor.”

  We walked through the brightly lit hospital, breathing in the familiar, sterile scent of bandages and rubbing alcohol as we went. A small elevator took us up to the third floor, and then a sign on the wall pointed us in the direction of Nathan’s room number.

  When we reached his door, Sy was stepping out and closing the door behind him. He looked up and smiled at us in greeting.

  “Corona got ahold of you too, huh?” he asked in his deep voice.

  I nodded. “Did you have any luck?”

  Sy shrugged. “He said that Little John can’t disband yet. Apparently, that’s what he’s been telling Corona, too.”

  “Little John?” I echoed in surprise. Little John had done what it was supposed to do. What could Nathan possibly still need it for?

  “I don’t get it either,” Sy replied.

  I sighed. Sy had been a member of Little John long before Jace and I arrived on the scene. If Nathan wouldn’t listen to Sy, I definitely couldn’t see him listening to us. But I told Aurora I would try.

  “We’ll do our best,” I said.

  “Well, if you do end up convincing him, I’m going to say that it was because I loosened him up for you,” Sy said with a wink. “Good luck.”

  Sy turned and headed down the hallway toward the elevator, leaving Jace and me standing outside of Nathan’s closed door.

  “Guess it’s now or never,” Jace said, reaching down and turning the knob.

  We opened the door to find Nathan sitting up in his hospital bed. I almost didn’t recognize him without his usual fitted suit. He was dressed in a flimsy off-white hospital gown. A rolling tray had been pulled up to his bed, laden with plastic plates of hospital food, and he was just putting a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth when we made eye contact.

  I smiled, genuinely happy to see him looking healthy again. I hadn’t seen him since the airship ride from Chanley, when he was pale and sunken with blood loss. I was worried then that I might never see him sit upright again.

  Nathan swallowed, looking slightly embarrassed, and placed the plastic utensil and cup back onto his tray.

  “Just when I thought it was finally safe to eat,” he said with a weary smile, “Corona sends more of her delegates.”

  “We can come back,” I said quickly, feeling uncomfortably intrusive.

  “No, no,” Nathan muttered, waving a hand. “I’m happy to see you. Come in.”

  Jace and I stepped into the room and closed the door behind us. I spotted a couple of chairs lining the wall and grabbed one, pulling it over to his bedside. Jace followed suit, and we both sat beside Nathan to begin our talks.

  “You’ll have to forgive my appearance,” Nathan said with a grin. “They don’t make fitted, three-piece hospital gowns.”

  Jace and I laughed together in response. It was good to be around Nathan again, particularly now that he was acting like his usual self.

  “We passed Sy on our way in,” Jace said.

  “Yes, he was in here trying to convince me that I should be president. And I assume that’s what you’re doing, too,” Nathan replied. “But I’m afraid I simply don’t have the bandwidth. Not when Little John still needs me.”

  I bit my lip. It didn’t take long for Nathan to make his position clear.

  “But Little John succeeded,” I said. “Burchard is hiding out somewhere, and his regime is gone.”

  “Burchard may be gone, but that doesn’t mean that Little John has succeeded,” Nathan replied.

  I blinked. “I don’t understand . . .”

  Nathan exhaled and turned to look out of the window on the other side of the room. He paused for a while, seemingly entangled in his thoughts.

  “Burchard may have been terrible at it, but he had the perfect personality for a president. He could play the long game, he was silver-tongued, and he operated within the rule of law,” Nathan said.

  He looked back over at us.

  “I’m not the type to be president,” he said. “I’m the type to hold presidents accountable. And Little John has to be here to do that—to make sure the next president does it right, since he has so much mess to clean up.”

  I knew exactly what cleaning up that mess entailed. The wealth inequality, the CRAS complications, the pandemonium in the absence of a unified police force, walking back all of the legislature that Burchard had schemed to pass . . . it seemed like an impossible feat.

  But it wasn’t the first seemingly impossible thing that Nathan had done.

  “Corona is doing her best right now,” Nathan went on. “What with all the looting and chaos. But she’s not a politician and neither am I. We need to leave this type of work to the politicians.”

  “Like Burchard?” I countered. “Maybe this country doesn’t need another career politician. Maybe we need something new.”

  “I agree,” Nathan replied firmly. “Which is why Little John still needs to be in operation. Not just to keep an eye on the new administration, but to do its dirty work. Someone still has to take back the rest of the money that the rich stole from the poor. Someone has to be willing to make the hard choices when it comes to redistributed children and where they really belong. It won’t fix everything, not by a long shot, but it’s a start. And it’s what I’m good at.”

  “Why can’t you do that as president?” I asked, feeling confused.

  “Presidents have to follow the rule of law. They have to be patient and wise, and sometimes they have to make the wrong choice because it’s illegal to do the right thing. Do you really think I’d be good at that?” Nathan shot back.

  He had me there. It probably wasn’t easy to go from leading an anti-government group to being the government. And Nathan was right about the conflict between morality and legality, too. Burchard had been kidnapping legally after he passed legislation to start the CRAS. And while it seemed criminal how much wealth the ultra-rich had accumulated, it would technically be theft to take it back from them now.

  But Little John didn’t care about laws. It cared about justice. I could see clearly why Nathan wasn’t willing to give that up to join the government. And I was starting to feel like Corona had sent us on a fool’s errand.

  Jace shifted uncomfortably in his chair, probably feeling the same way that I did.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to say,” Nathan went on. “It means a lot to me that you have that type of faith in me. But I’m just not the guy for this job. Not while Little John can still do good work.”

  “But . . . what if there’s another Burchard, Nathan?” I asked. “And you’re still running Little John?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Then we bring another tyrannical regime down,” he replied confidently. “And this time I think we’ll have the public’s help from the very beginning. They know what a dictator’s campaign looks like now. And what type of damage they cause.”

  “And we risk it happening all over again?” I replied. “All of the attacks, all of the damage, all of the lives lost?”

  Nathan was silent for a moment, looking at me intently.

  “Like I said, I don’t see it happening so soon after Burchard,” he replied.

  “You don’t see it happening when the country is at its most vulnerable? When one of
the most valuable positions in the world is open and primed for the taking?” I retorted.

  Nathan looked away.

  “Look, I know law and order isn’t exactly Little John’s specialty,” I went on, “but, right now, you can do a lot more good for this country by working with the government than continuing to work against it… It’s not going to be easy, Nathan. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

  Nathan exhaled, and slowly looked back at me.

  “Thank you, Robin,” he said after a long pause. “Per usual, you’re a voice of reason. You’ve given me a lot to consider.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t the immediate change of mind that Corona might’ve been hoping for, but I hoped it was a start. It was at least a lot better than I personally had expected from our meeting.

  “How’s your daughter?” Nathan asked, changing gears.

  “Things are getting better,” I said, with a faint smile. Hope had warmed pretty quickly to Jace and even to Juno, who was staying with her and Rhea while Jace and I were in Rosecrest. But for whatever reason, it was harder for Hope to feel comfortable around me. She would let me hold her for short periods of time, and she no longer cried when we were alone with each other, and that was good enough for now. I was just happy to see her making improvements and adjusting to her new life.

  “What about the rest of your team?” Nathan asked. “How are they doing? Are the apartments adequate?”

  Most of the Edgewood and Brightbirch members had relocated to other bases for work and housing. But some of us had chosen to stay in apartments that Nathan had purchased outside of Chanley, so that we could work with Corona. The rest of Team Hood was back there now, working to assist people who didn’t have access to computers by looking up their lost family members for them. It was what Jace and I had been doing, too, until Corona asked us to come and meet with Nathan.

  It felt good to help others find the type of peace and closure that I had felt when I found Juno and then Hope. And there was happiness among Team Hood members, too. Jackie had spoken to her sister on the phone, and they were planning to meet soon. Nelson was in the process of legally getting her daughter back. And Ant and Abe had found their father.