“How did you know?” I ask.
Odin’s gaze wanders to Strummer. “I knew where you were the moment you left the mother building.”
I knew it! It was Strummer that saw us leaving!
The bastard, he was the one back in Gus’s room, the person I saw up on the building spying on us.
“If you knew, why’d you let me go?” I ask.
He flashes a smile. “A good player, no matter the game, never reveals his full hand, Wyatt.”
It dawns on me like some kind of revelation that I’ve been played, manipulated. But for what purpose and for how long? I wonder how many of the things I’ve experienced over the last few days and months were set in motion without me knowing about them? I do my best to reconstruct the events in my mind, to uncover the invisible hand of Odin, but my thoughts are disordered.
As if sensing my confusion Odin touches my hand. “I saw what was on the thumb-drive.”
“Then you know,” I say.
“I always did.”
“You killed them, Odin. You killed them all.”
“I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”
“You ordered it then. You made it happen.”
His face hardens. “Where was it downloaded?”
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“Let’s try this once more time—”
“I swear I don’t,” I lie.
He sighs and peers up at the ceiling and I catch a glimpse of his head in profile. He’s a lunatic, I can tell that now. The light leaking from his bugged-out eyes seems unholy, his gaze dancing around the room until it fixes on the two people in the chair.
“Did you know that human sacrifice is the foundation of civilized society?”
I just stare at him.
“It’s a tale as old as the crucifixion. If you remember the story, Jerusalem was this tiny little tinderbox on the verge of exploding and what happened? The people in charge decided to offer up a lowly little carpenter and poof! the balance was restored.”
“Let them go, Odin. Let the people in the chair and Gus and Naia go and I’ll take their place. I’ll be your sacrifice.”
Odin shakes his head. “You never target the true guilty party, Wyatt. If you do that it awakens the spirit of vengeance. The key is to find another to blame.”
His line of sight swings over to Gus and then he waves his hand again and Mercer resumes pummeling the man and the woman in the chair. I look away, but someone behind me wrenches my face back so I’m forced to watch in nerve-brutalized wonderment.
Odin whispers that the two in the chairs have eaten a portion of my sins and then they’re battered and punched for so long even he’s forced to look away.
Thirty minutes later, Gus and Naia are taken away and fifteen minutes after that I’m led out of Room 101 and marched down the building’s main corridors. Word has apparently spread about us sneaking out, because the residents are out in full force, gawking, whispering.
Odin’s Active Measures teams have been working overtime as fabricated stories of what Gus and I did have already been planted. I can tell this when I hear residents jeering us, asking why we killed Melissa (and countless others before her) and why we wanted to find a way to let the Dubs in. None of that makes any sense, but it doesn’t really need to. Odin has seeded VC1 with these stories to cause confusion, to gin up a problem, a threat to the whole community that only he can solve.
Some of my friends are visible, Stanley Storch and Big Sam and Teddy. They cry out, asking me if the tales are true. Asking me why I betrayed the building. I answer that it’s all lies, but I don’t think they believe me and quickly I’m shouted down by handfuls of belligerent residents who were probably planted by Shooter.
Eventually, I’m led into a room somewhere near the upper floors that’s windowless and barren except for Naia who sits slumped against the far wall.
Someone kicks me to the ground and then the door slams shut. I crawl toward Naia who favors me with a look. My assumption was that she’d be terror-stricken or on the verge of a meltdown, but instead, she sports a defiant look.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Have you looked around?” she replies.
I examine her face which looks unscratched. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“Not yet, but give them time. They just kept asking about where I came from and what I was doing here.”
“What did you tell them?” I ask.
“What they wanted to hear,” she replies.
“What about Gus? Did you see what happened to him?”
“They took him away,” she says. “They carried us into another room and then a bunch of other guys snagged and took him through another door. They said they had to get him ready.”
“Did Odin say that?”
“Is Odin the tall asshole in white?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, he said it. Helluva leader you’ve got here by the way.”
“I didn’t elect him.”
“So how’s he in charge?”
I think about this, about how ridiculous it is that I don’t even remember how or why Odin took charge. The days in the Vertical City are a blur and if pressed I couldn’t even tell you how long Odin’s been behind the wheel. Honest to God I have no real memory of how he actually came to power.
“I don’t know. I don’t know how Odin’s in charge or how long he’s been in charge.”
She scowls and scans the walls and pounds on the paneling. “How many floors is this building?”
“More than thirty.”
“Gonna be a bitch to get down,” she says.
“We can’t get down. There’s no way out.”
She pins me with a look.
“Your parents still around?” she asks.
“No.”
“What did your father do for a living?”
“He managed money for people,” I say.
“Well mine was a farmer and a mechanic and owned a restaurant that specialized in fried chicken called Mother Cluckers. Before that he played in a rock band called ‘Involuntary Commitment.’ There was some singer from the way back named John Lennon who said something that’s kinda appropriate given our present situation.”
“What’s that?”
“That there are no real problems. Only solutions.”
I think about this for a few seconds. “That doesn’t even make – that John Lennon guy’s full of shit.”
“Whatever, Wyatt. The point is we need to stop worrying about problems and start thinking about answers and a way out. Like now.”
She spots something and drops to the ground. There’s a single electrical outlet near the wall. She eases a fingernail into a groove on a screw and starts jimmying the socket plate.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“Screwing up. If it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t have gotten caught.”
“I was the one who was stupid enough to leave you those numbers,” she says, loosening the screws, tugging the socket plate free. “I should never have come here.”
“It wasn’t always like this, Naia. Right before the city fell I was with part of a group that tried to get out. We were on helicopters headed out to ships, floating cities, when we crashed here, way up on top. It was hard at first, but then it got better.”
“And then it got comfortable.”
She looks over at me. She’s got a single strand of copper wire from behind the socket plate in hand.
“It was never comfortable.”
“Had to be,” she says. “That’s always what happens. You get in a routine, let your guard down, and some whack-job takes charge.”
“Odin fooled us. Most of the others thought he was a good guy, a shepherd tending his flock.”
“If he’s the shepherd, who are the sheep?”
My face flushes because I know the answer to that.
“Did the same thing happen upstate?”
“We stopped it before it could,” she replies.
&nb
sp; She separates the strand and twirls half of it around one finger. It’s almost impossible to see, but she’s able to twist the end until there’s some substance to it. She practices jabbing the ragged end of the wire at an imaginary target and then she pockets the wire at the instant that the door opens.
Strummer’s there, pistol in hand, along with Odin’s personal bodyguards. There’s pure misery in his face as he saunters over and kicks me in the stomach hard enough to knock the air from me. He does this again and when Naia moves to help, he jams a gun in her ear and runs a hand over her chest, groping her.
“I’d really love to prang the both of you right fucking here, but the man says it wouldn’t be in the spirit of things on account of how it’s such a special day.”
“I love special days,” Naia says, smirking, as Strummer produces a length of chain.
“That’s good bitch, real good, ‘cause you two are gonna be the guests of honor.”
3
Strummer holds the chain yoking me and Naia, forcing us down a rear hallway. He pays extra attention to me, making sure to keep a thumb planted in the small of my back, twisting it occasionally before plucking my ear-lobes.
“You thought you were so smart didn’t you, Wyatt?”
“In comparison to what?”
This confuses him as he yanks the chains, digging the metal into the flesh near my wrists.
“You put a lie on me when you talked to Odin and Shooter.”
“You’re the one who ratted me out,” I reply.
“I just reported what I saw.”
I decide to make a play for whatever scrap of decency Strummer still has. “They killed them, Strummer. They killed every person that was ever shunned. I saw it happen!”
“And if they did? They were all used up anyway. Decrease the surplus population, that’s what Odin says.”
“If Darcy was here she’d kick your ass.”
“But she’s not is she? She’s on the low down, the death frequency.”
“They’ll do the same to you. Maybe not today, but they’ll turn on you and send you out and hunt you down like a Dub.”
“Not if I’m part of the elect, ace. Not if I’m in the inner circle.”
“You’ll never be there.”
He jerks me to a stop and leans around. “Yeah? And why the hell is that?”
“Because they know you’re a goddamn coward.”
The punch that comes next is so sudden I barely have a chance to clench my abdomen.
Strummer’s fist thumps my midsection and I fight to hold onto consciousness, the blow doubling me over.
Strummer rises up, knuckles clenched, readying to finish me off when someone whistles.
Strummer steps aside to reveal Ed Brixton who’s fronting a metal door.
“The hell do you want?” Strummer sneers.
“I come to take the traitors the rest of the way,” Brixton says.
“Says who?”
“The man hisself.”
“Bullshit. I’m taking ‘em.”
A ghost of a smile grips Brixton’s face. “Fine, chief, you do that, you take ‘em. But when Odin asks why you disobeyed a direct order, I’ll be sure to give him something other than the quick and dirty.”
Strummer hesitates, grumbles, and then steps aside as Brixton grabs me and Naia.
“Get your arses moving,” he growls.
We head through the door into an anteroom. Brixton checks the door to make sure it’s locked and that nobody else is in sight and then wheels on me.
“What the hell were you thinking, Jumper?” Brixton asks.
“I went outside,” I say.
“I know goddamn well what you done, prat.”
“I didn’t break any rules.”
“Not any of the tier-one, written kind, no. But from what I heard you seen things you shouldn’t have seen.”
“They’re killing your people,” Naia offers. “They’re letting them out and then shooting them down.”
“Who in the holy hell are you?” Brixton says.
“Naia.”
“Mind your own business, Naia.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Brixton dwarfs Naia by many inches and probably a hundred pounds, but she holds his look.
“What did you just say, young lady?”
“I said kiss my ass which I’ll gladly say again if you’re losing your hearing, pops.”
“Your friend here’s got a real lip, Jumper,” Brixton says.
“She’s from another settlement upstate,” I offer.
“And should’ve bloody well stayed there.”
“She’s right, Brixton. They’re killing everyone they shun.”
“What you evidence you got?”
“There’s a building with cameras and computers-”
“Where?”
I point. “Out past the river and down about ten or so blocks there’s-”
“That might as well be in outer space.”
“I’ve seen it!”
He rubs his face.
“You know I’m telling the truth,” I continue.
“What I know is that you’re twenty feet below where most people find themselves when they’re in deep shit.”
“You knew about what they were doing down near ten. You knew about the people that went missing.”
His face softens as he leads us down to another door and I hope he realizes the truth of what we’ve told him.
“They’re evil, Brixton. All of the Administrators.”
“This,” and here his tone changes from puzzlement to irritation, “from the twat who was doing public relations for Odin only a day or so ago.”
“I was wrong.”
“When have you ever been right?”
He stops before the door and I pin him with a look.
“You were the one who was telling me how horrible things were. You were the only one who really seemed to know.”
“So what does that mean?” he asks. “That I’m somehow responsible for you being stupid enough to sneak out at night?”
“No, but I thought you’d help.”
“Last time I tried to help people was when the world started to fall. Guess what happened? Everyone died.”
“At least tell me what happened to the guy who was with us,” I say quietly. “He’s a good friend. Gus is his name.”
Brixton doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and then:
“I know exactly who your boy Gus is. The dogman. I also know what they’re doing to him.”
“What? What have they done?”
“It ain’t what they’ve done, but what they plan to do. They’re getting him ready, ready to be shunned.”
I knew he was going to say it, but a shudder still drives through me when I hear it.
“And by the look of things, this one’s going to be different. They’re doing something they used to do in the way, way back,” Brixton says. “A ‘Feast of Fools’ they called it.”
“What’s gonna happen?”
“Nothing good,” he replies, “cause it’s all in the wind now.”
He opens the door to reveal an anteroom filled with chairs and a mirror on one wall and guards and a clutch of women who are perusing trunks filled with clothing.
The women turn and usher us into the chairs despite our chains which are not removed. I watch Brixton fling a final look my way and then exit the room.
One of the women holds up a flashy red blouse under Naia’s neck and asks:
“Are you ready, my dear? Are you ready for it to begin?”
My eyes turn from this and I peer into one of the trunks where I spot two items: a purple robe and a gold crown. My pulse quickens because I know who’s destined to wear them.
4
Straps are secured around our upper bodies, tethering Naia and me to the chairs.
I’m forced into a pair of brown pants and a red shirt and Naia is wrapped in a white singlet, her hair bunched atop her head, a tiny crystal crown pinned in pl
ace.
“Don’t you look lovely,” one of the ladies says to Naia. “Super cute,” says another with red hair.
The women buzz around us and the red-haired one leans in close and holds out an old cellphone and takes what I believe used to be called a “selfie” with Naia.
Words can’t describe the look of disgust that washes over Naia seconds before she spits in the woman’s face and knees the phone away, shattering it.
The woman wipes the spittle from her cheeks, her demeanor darkening.
“You just wait, whore,” she hisses softly, “you just wait and see.”
They soon leave exit the room, leaving us alone.
“What the hell did you spit at her for?’
“Relax,” Naia says, “it’s not as if they’re gonna get more pissed at us.”
Naia scans the room and bobs her head toward a CCTV camera that hangs like a spider from the far wall.
“They’re watching,” she says.
“Someone’s always watching.”
“Why are we dressed like this?” she asks.
“It’s part of the ceremony I guess.”
“I assume your buddy Gus is gonna be the man of the hour?”
My head sinks and I nod. “They’re kicking him out on account of what happened and because he’s too old.”
A look of recognition washes over her.
“Jesus, the other people on the videos we saw—”
“All shunned,” I say.
“Will they do the same to us?”
“I think they’ve got something else planned for you and me.”
For a moment looks like a frightened little girl and then something comes over her and she straightens her back and sets her jaw and whispers:
“To get out of here we’re going to have to kill some of them, Wyatt. You know that don’t you?”
My thoughts are so scrambled by everything that’s happened, I can’t respond.
“If you want to survive and help Gus you’re going to have to help me. You’re going to have to do things you might not want to do.”
My gaze smokes into hers. “I’ve spilled blood if that’s what you mean.”
“Human blood?”
“No.”
“Well I have.”
“You’ve crossed over a real, live person?”
Vertical City Box Set [Books 1-4] Page 27
