by Kyle Andrews
“I'll ask a couple of the runners to take a look around and let me know what they see. Liam wanted you to stop by the kitchen. He wants to talk about his recipe column in the Secret Citizen.”
Collin couldn't help but smile. Mig's husband had been pushing for a column for years, but Collin refused. There wasn't much use for recipes when people couldn't get the ingredients that they needed.
Their arguing over the column had somehow turned into Liam testing out recipes on Collin and shooting the breeze over lunch.
“I'll get back to him a little bit later,” Collin told Mig. “I'm going to see Aaron. Have Dor come find me if she gets back.”
Mig gave Collin a quick nod before turning back to her list and walking down the hallway. Collin walked in the opposite direction, toward Aaron's office.
What had started out in a shielded closet had expanded into a whole room inside the Campus, much to Mig's dismay. Computers lined the walls, and a team of tech experts sat at those computers, constantly working on whatever technical needs arose on any given day. Collin rarely understood what they were doing in that room, but they were useful when it came to getting information.
Aaron no longer had a base to run, or people depending on him to keep them safe. Instead, he monitored Simon and the tech team, and fed information to different bases, in order to plan operations against the authorities. In a lot of ways, he had taken over some of the information trafficking duties of the Campus, now that Mig and most of the Campus residents had shifted gears toward publishing. Though it made sense, Collin wasn't sure how much Mig appreciated the lightening of her load. She and Aaron were known to butt heads from time to time. With two leaders under one roof, Collin was always expecting the next big clash. Fortunately, no blood had yet been shed. It was a small victory, but one which Collin was willing to accept for as long as it lasted.
When Collin walked into the room and closed the door behind him, Aaron didn't even turn around. He was standing behind Simon with his arm crossed over his chest and his head tilted back. There was a lot of audio traffic being played over the speakers of Simon's computer and Aaron was trying to listen to what was being said.
To Collin, it sounded like a lot of numbers and random words. Behind some of the chatter, he could hear what sounded like a crowd going wild.
“Is that the game?” Collin asked as he approached.
Aaron raised a hand and then put up a finger, telling Collin to hold on for one second. He then said to Simon, “Isolate channel seven.”
Simon typed a number of commands into his computer and the audio feed shifted. There was more static and chaos now.
“Channel twelve,” Aaron ordered.
Simon shifted once again and this time there was silence.
“It's encrypted,” Simon told Aaron, while typing at lightning speed.
“Can you get through it?”
“I can try, but it would probably take more time than we have.”
“Get to work on it. Keep an eye on the other channels and let me know if anyone hears the asset out there. Check the pigeons if you have to, but walk lightly.”
“I always do,” Simon nodded.
As Simon nodded and continued working, Aaron turned to face Collin.
“The asset? The pigeons?” Collin asked as he and Aaron moved to a quiet corner of the room and spoke in soft voices.
“It's code.”
“For what?”
“If I told everyone who asked, we wouldn't need the code.”
Collin nodded. He knew that Aaron had a man inside HAND, so it would make sense of this man was the asset. Where he was or what information came from him, Collin had no clue. Aaron chose to keep some information from Collin and his reporters. As much as he trusted them, he couldn't risk anything that the asset said or did winding up in the Secret Citizen, even by mistake. Collin suspected that Aaron would have preferred to be running his group out of a different base entirely, but space was limited.
The pigeons were a complete mystery to Collin. He might have asked about them, but there were more pressing matters to discuss.
“Are you monitoring the stadium at all?” Collin asked Aaron.
“We're trying, but we can't get a clear view of what's going on.”
“So something did happen?”
“There was a sudden surge in the use of code words. Probably names for the Mayor and Governor. I think they're trying to get them out, but I don't know why.”
“Did we hit the game?”
“We wouldn't do that. Too many civilians.”
“It'd be a good chance to take out two high-ranking politicians.”
“And a good number of staff members. There might even be presidential advisers in there, but I can't get a clear list.”
“The video feed cut off with the pledge. The girl reciting it looked scared.”
“Wouldn't you be?” Aaron asked. He then shrugged and said, “Mandi Hollinger is the daughter of Jax Hollinger and his wife. They're members of Freedom. Jax lived in the Garden until it was destroyed. I think he moved to one of the smaller bases on the edge of town.”
“You think they were found out?” Collin asked, as memories of his time in HAND custody flashed through his mind. He couldn't imagine a little girl being subjected to that type of torture.
“I haven't heard anything, but more channels than normal are being encrypted. Probably because of the VIPs. I'm still working on it.”
“We have people checking it out. A couple of runners at least. I'm trying to find out if we have anyone at the game itself. I'll let you know what I find.”
Aaron nodded and turned to walk back to his work. Collin wanted to do the same, except that he didn't know what work to turn to. There was a story breaking out there, but he couldn't go near it. If he were spotted out in public, HAND would grab him within a matter of minutes.
He hated this part of his life. He hated not being a part of the world anymore. If he was very lucky, he could manage to slip out of the base at night, just before curfew. He could meet an informant or just walk the streets if he was careful. But at times like this, when something was happening and he wanted to go and see it for himself, his hands were tied. With every issue of the Secret Citizen that came out, the authorities wanted him dead just a little bit more. No matter how much he wanted to leave that place, he couldn't. All he could do was ask other people to do the job for him and report back. In some ways, he was still a prisoner.
5
There were two popping sounds, which echoed through the stadium. Gunshots. These were followed by screams as the crowd inside went crazy.
Justin turned toward Sim, just as the stadium doors burst open and the audience began to pour out. They weren't simply fleeing, they were rioting. Men were grabbing other men and dragging them to the ground. Others were grabbing whatever items they could find and throwing them into the TV screens that hung on the walls.
Justin couldn't tell who was fighting for which side, so he pulled the baton from his belt and began swinging at anyone who was causing trouble.
Deep down, he knew that those gunshots were the response of HAND officers to the girl's misspoken pledge. Was she dead? Would they really kill a little girl in a stadium full of people?
He couldn't stop to think about what had happened. He couldn't allow his imagination to run wild. Whatever he feared, the reality could have been ten times worse, but that didn't change what he needed to do. He was a HAND officer and he had duties to perform.
A large man charged toward Justin, looking to do harm. He was either Freedom, or he was a sympathizer, but it didn't matter. Justin effortlessly swept the man's legs out from under him, causing the man to fall to the ground, hard.
There was no slowing the crowd that was coming through the door. The flood of people soon covered the man who had attacked Justin, no doubt causing great injury or possibly death.
What followed was a blur of chaos. Justin swung his baton, taking down other citizens who were either
attacking him or others. Sim was fighting his own battles. They moved with the crowd through the building, trying to manage a situation that could not be managed with the weapons that they had on hand. Guns would have worked better, but they would have introduced an unpredictable element.
A woman wandered through the crowd, bleeding from her head and crying as people ignored her. Moving slowly was a mistake for her. She was soon knocked over, and when she tried to get up, she was hit again and again.
Justin moved toward the woman. His instinct was to put himself between her and those who would do her more harm, but he pushed instinct aside in favor of training. Instead of simply blocking the woman, Justin grabbed a man who was about to slam into her, and he threw the man against a wall. He then swung the man around and threw him back toward the crowd, causing several other people to stumble and fall.
Someone was speaking through Justin's earpiece, but he couldn't hear anything above the roar of the crowd.
He was hit over the head by a glass bottle, and as he tried to pull himself together, an elbow slammed into his face. He put his arms up defensively, still not sure where the attack was coming from, and he was struck by a wooden pole of some kind—possibly a broom handle.
Justin still couldn't see who was attacking him, but he now knew where the attack was coming from, so he turned into it and grabbed the arm of his attacker before another blow could be delivered. He twisted and pulled the attacker closer before throwing the attacker onto the ground and pressing his boot into the attacker's neck.
The attacker was a teenage boy whose eyes widened as Justin pressed down just a little bit harder. Looking the boy in the eyes, Justin was tempted to put all of his weight into the boy's neck and let him die.
The boy grabbed Justin's leg and tried to twist it in an attempt to throw Justin off balance. He was desperate for an escape, but it wasn't Justin's job to let him escape. It was his job to put an end to the rebellion and anyone who supported it.
Would he kill that boy? Could he live with another sin on his shoulders?
Whatever he would have decided, Justin's choice was taken away from him as another man threw himself into Justin with every ounce of strength that he could muster. Both Justin and the man fell to the ground, and neither wasted any time in preparing for a fight.
Quickly pulling himself to his feet, Justin turned and delivered a punch to the man's face, causing the man to stumble backwards. Justin moved toward him and punched again, but this time the man blocked him and delivered a punch of his own, to Justin's gut.
Justin doubled over, just then realizing that he had dropped his baton at some point during his fight. As soon as he realized this, he felt the baton across his back and he fell to the ground.
Turning over, he saw the boy whose throat he had been stepping on only seconds earlier, raising the baton and preparing to beat him to death.
Just as he realized what was about to happen, Justin watched as the boy's shoulder exploded with blood. The boy's entire body twisted and he fell backwards, dropping the baton.
Justin turned back toward the larger man who was attacking him, and the two of them locked eyes. In that moment, Justin saw a hint of something other than blind rage. It looked like... recognition. The man hesitated for a moment, as though he didn't understand what was happening. In that moment, the man looked vaguely familiar to Justin as well. Did they know each other? Was this someone that he'd lived with in the Garden?
There was only a fraction of a second for Justin to wonder about this man before he saw a spot on the man's chest pop as though he had been carrying a water balloon filled with blood in his pocket. The man fell to the floor, dead.
Justin turned and saw Sim walking toward him, holding his gun by his side. Apparently, they'd been ordered to introduce that unpredictable element after all.
“We have to go!” Sim told him as he picked up Justin's baton, handing it back to him.
Justin got to his feet and followed Sim. The two of them didn't slow down as they turned toward the crowd and started to rush through it.
“The VIPs are under attack,” Sim called back to Justin. “We have to get to them.”
There was no questioning the order. No citizen's life was as valuable as that of the Mayor or the Governor.
6
Dor hurried through the entrance of the Campus and walked as quickly as she could through the hallway, toward her bunk. Once she was inside the room that she shared with a number of other residents, she reached under her bed and pulled out an old metal box.
“Dor,” Mig said from behind her.
Dor didn't turn around, she simply said, “Hey.”
“Collin was looking for you. You should probably find him when you have a chance.”
Dor opened the box and started to fish through its contents. She had a number of forged Civvies inside the box, but she needed to find the right one.
“Dor?” Mig said, trying to get Dor's attention.
“Tell Collin that I'll catch up with him a little later. I'm in a hurry.”
Mig sat down on Dor's bed and asked, “Where are you going?”
“I have an errand to run.”
“Who gave the order?”
Dor hesitated and looked up at Mig for just a second before turning back to the box. She finally found the Civvie that she was looking for and put it in her pocket.
“I have to go,” she said to Mig, standing up.
Mig grabbed Dor's arm and asked, “Where are you going?”
Since Mig was the leader of the Campus, any mission would have to go through her. If Dor were being sent out on an assignment for the Secret Citizen, the order would have to come from Collin. Neither one of them had given her the okay to go through with what she was planning. She didn't want to explain herself to Mig, because she knew that a lot of people in the Campus still saw her as the little girl that had been brought in years earlier. They let her do the small jobs, meeting non-threatening informants in broad daylight, but they never wanted her to take risks.
If Dor could have gotten away from that place without explaining herself to Mig, she would have, but she knew that what she was doing was dangerous and she didn't want to go about it like a brooding teenager. She wanted to show them what she was capable of, and lying to them wouldn't accomplish that.
Looking Mig directly in the eye, Dor said, “I'm going to get into KCTY.”
Mig's eyes narrowed as she asked, “Why would you do that?”
“Because whatever is happening at the game, they have the footage. Anything that didn't make it past the seven second delay would still be in their system.”
“Their heavily guarded system.”
“I can get it.”
“What about Molly?”
“She was scared. She didn't want to go anywhere near this story.”
“I can send someone else.”
“I'm the best person for the job. You send Mek in there, and all kinds of alarms will go off,” Dor countered. She tried to soften her expression as she said, “I understand that you and Collin don't like me being out there. He's always been protective and I haven't proven myself capable in your eyes.”
“I don't want you to get hurt.”
“I believe that. But you also don't want me to mess something up and lead them back here with drones. It's your job to be concerned. But I am a part of this fight, and I will never be proven capable in your eyes unless you give me the chance.”
Mig stood up and turned her back on Dor for a moment as she thought about what Dor was proposing. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head, saying, “If Collin ever found out that I let you go in there...”
“I love Collin, but Brother Bear can only keep me safe for so long. He's the one who made it clear that we have to stand up against these people and not hide out in bases like this for the rest of our lives. He taught me everything I know. Everything I believe in.”
Mig took a deep breath. “Couldn't you be all emotional and irrational,
like most teenagers I know? When you make sense, it's hard for me to deny your request.”
“Then don't.”
“I'm sending backup with you.”
“I can't get a whole troop inside the building.”
“They'll stay positioned outside. Armed. If you run into trouble, all you need to do is get to fresh air and they'll take care of the rest.”
Dor smiled. Not because she was getting her way, but because she was finally reaching a point in her life when people would trust her.
Taking on a more boss-like expression, Mig asked Dor, “So, what is your plan for getting the intel?”
Dor shrugged and said, “Get inside. Find out what's what. Report back.”
Mig stared at Dor for a second or two before asking, “That's it?”
Dor nodded.
Shaking her head slightly, Mig gestured for Dor to follow her and led her out of the room.
“Where are we going?” Dor asked.
“To see Aaron. And then I'm going to make a call to the Underground. I'll have someone meet you outside of the building.”
“We can't send someone from here?”
“I love my runners and reporters, but I am not sending you out there with anything less than the best.”
Dor nodded and said, “I respect that decision, ma'am.”
“Don't ma'am me. You weren't even going to check with me before getting yourself killed.”
“That was childish and I'm sorry.”
“Stop saying rational things. It annoys me.”
Dor felt like giving Mig a hug, but she thought that it would be unprofessional, given the circumstances. Instead, she put on a straight face and followed Mig into Aaron's office.
7
“Paul!” someone yelled over the music, taking Paul's attention off of Rose. She wasn't too happy about that.
Both Paul and Rose turned to see who was calling him. They saw a man named Baxter approaching. Baxter was the leader of the Underground. He was a lean man, probably in his forties, with scars on his face from wounds that had healed years earlier. He wasn't a soldier, like most of the people in the Underground. He'd been leading the base since before it had taken on its new purpose. In fact, he didn't even command those soldiers. He merely saw to the day-to-day business of the Underground, making sure that everyone stayed fed and had a place to sleep at night.
