by Deven Kane
Connor took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Stick to the facts, no wild guesses. “Yes, sir. There was an anti-Initiative protest in front of the Art Gallery. I was curious, so I went to see what might happen. Two Trackers showed up and detonated in the middle of the crowd. I escaped when everyone else ran.”
Now Darcy did turn to face him, his eyes demanding a truthful accounting. “I saw only one explosion, from multiple camera angles.” His challenge was clear.
Connor gulped, his pulse quickening. “Two explosions, sir. That’s why I didn’t want the savages to hear about it. Not yet, anyway. There were two Trackers, and they were hunting each other. One tried to run away, but the other caught up. When it knew it couldn’t escape, it grabbed the other Tracker and blew itself up. The other one exploded a split-second later. It only looks like a single detonation on the Infomedia.”
“Trackers hunting each other?” Tony sounded skeptical, sauntering next to Connor and lowering his weapon. “That doesn’t sound like something the Givers would authorize, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you.” Darcy dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turning to face the balcony windows. They remained opaque. The savages couldn’t be seen, but neither could they see inside.
“Trackers divided against one another,” he mused aloud. “What are the Givers up to?”
“What do we tell the savages?” Tony seemed unfazed by Darcy’s earlier rebuke. “The less, the better, in my opinion.”
Darcy whirled to glare at him. Tony cowered away, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“We’ll tell our allies everything, do you hear?” Darcy took a menacing step forward. “For the sake of our cause, we must risk a dangerous level of cooperation. Their names are Garr, Sheila, and Amos. They’re the key to bringing more of their kind into the Enclave. We need more Implants.”
Connor nodded. Darcy always saw the big picture. The alien Givers, and the collaborators, were their first priority.
Avenging his sister would be his victory celebration.
Twenty-Eight
AMOS WATCHED AS THE windowpanes darkened, obscuring their view of the Hoarders. He was becoming numb to the outlandish technological advancements inside the Enclave. The disparity between life inside and outside the walls was breathtaking.
“Very nice. Locked out, stuck on a balcony, twenty floors above ground.” He shrugged in resignation. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere until the Hoarders say so.”
Garr stood with his back to the balcony rail, ignoring the sights and sounds of the Enclave. “Let’s make this quick. We don’t know how long the Hoarders’ private little chat will last.”
“For starters, how did you end up inside the Enclave?” Amos turned his back on the opaque panels, ignoring the twitch between his shoulder blades. “Don and Jane made it out with me, but we got separated.”
“I was able to ensure Megan and Aubrey’s safe departure,” Mateo interrupted. “They rendezvoused with Don and Jane, en route to your Hub.”
Garr and Sheila exchanged relieved glances.
“Garr and I escorted the Hoarders back to their vehicle—as crazy as that sounds.” Sheila smiled without much humor. “It was Darcy’s idea to sneak us into the Enclave. Even the guards seem intimidated by him.”
“Darcy’s a member on the ruling Council.” Garr exhaled a deep breath, eyebrows raised. “Believe it or not, since our arrival, we’re been sitting in their gathering room, discussing potential strategies against the Givers.”
“Just like that.” Anger and disbelief clouded Amos’s voice. “You sat down for drinks with the creator of the Implants and made him part of the team? I don’t know how you expect us to trust him—I still can’t believe you trust him.”
“Who said anything about trust?” Sheila laughed bitterly. “If there’s a line between genius and insanity, Darcy crossed it a long time ago.”
Rain began to fall, gently at first but increasing into a steady downpour. The Runners edged away from the balcony rail. The shower foreshortened their view of the Enclave, cloaking the surrounding apartment towers in mist.
Garr raised his voice above the pattering rain, his eyes warm but his voice cold. “We don’t have any choice about working with these Hoarders. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Sheila and I had to sit in the back of their vehicle and pretend to be good little Citizens, just to get inside the Enclave. That was an unnerving adventure. Those guards were packing an impressive amount of firepower.”
He paused, chuckling with genuine humor. “I don’t think young Connor enjoyed the return trip, sandwiched between Sheila and I in the back seat.”
“He probably bathed in disinfectant later.” Sheila snickered, shaking her head at the memory. Her laughter faded, and she became serious again. “Once this is over, I wouldn’t turn my back on Darcy for a second.”
“That would be wise.” Mateo crossed his arms, gazing from one Runner to the next. “For now, Darcy needs you. That’s the only thing restraining him. If we succeed, there’ll be nothing to hold him back. You’re already well-aware of their deep prejudice against ‘savages.’ I daresay it rivals your own knee-jerk stereotypes toward those you deem ‘Hoarders.’”
“What about Megan?” Amos changed the subject, ignoring Mateo’s jibe. “It’s obvious the Hoarders recognized her. The blond kid called her by name.”
“Darcy and Connor recognized Megan.” Mateo corrected Amos in his instructor’s voice. “Their driver, Tony Moretti, is a recent recruit and has no memory of her. That much was plain to observe in their individual reactions.”
“I don’t think Megan recognized any of them,” Sheila said, placing a cautionary hand on Amos’s arm. “But considering how much damage she’s sustained, that might not mean much.”
“Does it mean she might take their side?” Amos glanced over his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the opaque windows. He shook his head, embarrassed by his impulsive question. “No, forget I asked that. Darcy’s responsible for the Implants, and Megan is—was—a Tracker, trying to ‘harvest’ them. If anything, they should be enemies.”
Sheila snapped her fingers, her thoughtful frown giving way to an astonished smile. “Wait a minute. That’s the missing piece. Garr, remember when Darcy told us they only Implant people from outside the Enclave?”
Garr nodded, his eyes haunted. “By his own twisted logic, it makes perfect sense. They’d never Implant a Citizen of the Enclave. It’s like an unwritten rule.”
“How noble,” Amos muttered, recalling the night he’d removed his own Implant.
Sheila acted as if she hadn’t heard him, enthusiasm coloring her voice. “Just yesterday, Connor made an off-hand comment about that being the only thing they had in common with the Givers—neither side would ever use a Citizen as raw material. It’s sacrilege to them.”
Garr’s eyes lit up. “I remember him saying that. And yet, it’s obvious that both Darcy and Connor recognized her. If that’s the case . . .”
“Megan was once a Citizen.” Amos exhaled in a long, slow whistle. “The Givers broke the unwritten rule.”
Mateo quelled their growing pocket of excitement with a sharp gesture. The windowpanes were beginning to lose their opacity. Tony’s bulky frame could be seen through the glass. He was coming to open the door.
“It would not be in the Givers’ best interests to antagonize their allies on the Council.” Mateo turned toward the balcony rail, hiding his face from the villa’s occupants. “If that’s true—why the needless gamble? What is it about Megan that made such a risk seem like a good idea?”
Amos caught his breath, suddenly alarmed. “You’re not speaking in riddles for once. You don’t know what’s going on with Megan, do you?”
The door latch clicked behind them.
“No,” Mateo said quietly, his words rushed. “And that is a matter of some concern.”
Twenty-Nine
“SO—ARE WE GOING TO tell them everything?”
The que
stion seemed innocent enough, but Darcy bristled when Tony asked it a second time. Connor saw the look on his foster father’s face, and was thankful he hadn’t been the one to bring it up.
The savages were still on the balcony, cut off by the locked door and darkened windows. Connor was uneasy at the thought of them having any unsupervised time together—they could be planning any number of betrayals.
We’re twenty floors up. He forced himself to relax. It’s not like they can go anywhere.
“What did I just say?” Darcy glowered at Tony, who blanched and fell silent. “We need more Implants—it’s as simple as that. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
Darcy whirled to glare at the blank screen over the hearth, as if he could pry the Givers’ secrets from its uncooperative surface. With a visible effort, he bottled his temper and gestured to Tony without looking at him.
“Stow your weapon, and then bring the savages in. The bombing incident at the Gallery—we’ll allow them to watch the Infomedia report and draw their own conclusions. Then we’ll take them to the Surveillance Monitoring Division and give them access to the raw footage.”
He reached down and pushed the button to return the windows to their unfiltered setting. Tony hastened to the door, eager to placate Darcy’s wrath. Connor dared to ask one last question in the short interval before the savages returned.
“Is there any question we shouldn’t ask?” He kept his voice neutral, hoping Darcy would catch the subtle difference in his question over Tony’s. To his relief, Darcy understood.
“Excellent. You’re learning, Connor,” Darcy replied. He seemed pleased. “Treat them as though their opinions and insights are valuable. Allow them to believe we’re interested in their thoughts on the Gallery protest.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as Tony unlocked the balcony door.
“But no questions about Megan.” His icy gaze bored into Connor. “Nothing to tip them off about the price they’ll pay for what they’ve done to her. Let the savages bring her into the Enclave of their own accord, with no suspicions.”
Busted. Connor met his foster father’s gaze, swallowing hard. He knew Darcy was right. Do nothing to jeopardize the cause.
“Yes, sir,” he whispered as the savages edged past the belligerent Tony. “Not a word.”
Thirty
THE SAVAGES VIEWED the Infomedia report with keen interest. Darcy allowed the loop to repeat for several cycles before stopping the replay.
Connor’s attention was divided between the footage, and observing the savages’ reaction. They tried to be coy, but it was clear they were fascinated and belittled by the Enclave’s superior technology. As you should be.
“Protesters inside the Enclave,” Garr mused, rubbing his jaw. “That’s a new phenomenon. What were they protesting about?”
“Trouble in paradise?” Amos made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. Connor couldn’t decide which of the two savages he detested more. Garr, who as their leader was responsible for Megan’s abuse, or the cocky Amos. They both need to learn some respect.
Darcy answered, ignoring the bait in Amos’s barbed remark. “They’re protesting the Anodyne Initiative, of course. They show more common sense than the average Citizen.”
He stood behind the savages, hands clasped behind his back, compelling them to ask questions by volunteering no additional information.
Reinforcing his dominance. Connor smiled to himself. Darcy knows what he’s doing.
Sheila eyed Darcy with open skepticism. “Are you with-holding information for any particular reason? To keep us in suspense, perhaps?”
Connor’s smile, slight as it had been, was wiped from his face. It took a great deal of self-restraint to remain silent. All three savages were getting on his nerves now.
“Forgive me, Sheila.” Darcy gave her a pitying look. “I forget, sometimes, how unsophisticated life can be outside the Enclave. You have so little access to information—beyond gossiping over the back fence, I suppose.”
He pressed on, not giving her an opportunity to respond.
“The Initiative is the latest treachery of the Givers and their boot-licking sycophants on the Council.” His voice rose as he warmed to his favorite subject. “All Citizens will be given a security chip, capable of transmitting their exact location—anywhere, inside the Enclave or out—to our security forces, the Peace Wardens.”
“That’s supposed to make us feel safe.” Connor made no effort to mask his contempt. He continued, mimicking the Infomedia report they’d just watched. “‘Imagine the peace of mind you’ll enjoy, knowing Peace Wardens can be at your side the moment you need them . . .’ As if the surveillance cameras weren’t enough.”
For once, Darcy did not reprimand him for speaking out of turn. If anything, he seemed pleased Connor was bolstering his argument.
Darcy took control of the narrative. “Once the Initiative is implemented, it will be impossible to enter the Enclave unless you have a security chip. Or any public place for that matter, or even to buy groceries.”
Darcy paused, his jaw clenched as he radiated hostility. “According to their rationale, if a terrorist incident occurs, or border security is breached, it would be child’s play to isolate the perpetrators.”
Garr propelled himself out of his chair, pivoting from the flatscreen to confront Darcy. “And by ‘perpetrator,’ you mean somebody from outside. Because no true Citizen would ever betray the Enclave.”
“You mean us.” Sheila’s soft accusation was no less biting for its low volume.
“We have to protect our way of life.” Tony’s bitter voice drew their attention to him. He had retreated to the far side of the room, sulking because Darcy denied him his weapon. “Border security is the only thing keeping the rabble outside where they belong.”
Darcy silenced him with a wordless exclamation, pivoting to glare at his chauffeur with open menace. The blood drained from Tony’s face, and he sat down, staring at the floor.
Connor wondered privately whether Tony had crossed the line, and become a liability in Darcy’s eyes. We all know how that ends, don’t we, Tony?
The other savages jumped out of their seats, crowding together in a tight cluster, their backs to the hearth. Connor edged closer to Darcy, putting distance between himself and the unpredictable trio by the fireplace.
Mateo roused himself from his vantage point just inside the balcony door. He’d lingered there, watching with shrewd attentiveness ever since the savages returned from their exile on the balcony.
Connor kept a wary eye on him—it was no secret Mateo still possessed all the enhancements the Givers bestowed on their Trackers.
“The security chips have enjoyed the benefit of some rather brilliant marketing.” Mateo stepped in front of the savages, shielding them behind his body. “I daresay one of the most effective propaganda campaigns to be carried out in years. They’ve been nicknamed ‘anodynes’ by the Infomedia, selling the premise they’ll improve border security and restore peace to the Citizens of the Enclave. The Council was quick to seize upon the quaint nickname, and belatedly decided to market it as the Anodyne Initiative.”
“They call them nodes for short.” Connor said, unable to hide his disgust. “You should hear the university crowd—they act like it’s the latest hot trend.”
He caught the look Darcy shot his way and shut his mouth, chagrined to realize Mateo had successfully baited him into speaking out of turn.
The three savages—Connor could never think of them as anything else—faced Darcy in a combative formation. Theirs actions reminded Connor of cornered animals, which made them even more dangerous.
“It wasn’t enough for you Hoarders to take control of all the resources.” Sheila’s eyes flashed with indignation. Mateo’s wordy speech hadn’t been enough to distract her from Tony’s outburst. “Or that you built the Enclaves to hoard everything for yourselves. You just had to drag us into your private little war with the Givers.”
Darcy rewarded her with a scornful look.
“What would you suggest? That we Implant our fellow Citizens instead?” He punctuated his outburst with a mocking laugh. “For the record, the Givers were the first to make use of your kind. In any war, there are always expendable foot soldiers. Ask your Colonel to explain the concept of ‘cannon fodder,’ if you’re really curious.”
Garr lurched forward, eyes blazing and fists clenched. He held himself in check with great effort, holding out one arm to block Amos. Darcy met his gaze with equal fire, neither of them willing to back down.
Mateo stood apart from either group, figuratively and literally, looking back and forth at their tense faces.
“I’m sure the Givers would be pleased with your current level of cooperation,” he said, his calculated placidity giving way to exasperation. “I remind you—the Initiative is already underway. We have a limited window of opportunity. You’ve got the rest of your lives to vilify each other. Perhaps you’ve heard of the old adage, ‘first things first’?”
“Enough with the lame quotes,” Amos snapped at him, turning to address Darcy and his companions. “But he’s got a point. We’re wasting time. Any suggestions, Councilor?”
Connor marveled at Darcy’s self-control. The belligerence of the scruffy savage—incongruously clothed in a Citizen’s attire—was appalling. Connor was now convinced which of the rabble he hated the most. I’ll be there, Amos, when Darcy Implants you again. That’s a promise.
Darcy studied the hostile trio with calculating eyes, the muscles along his jawline clenching and unclenching.
“The Infomedia has only limited access to the raw video footage,” he said at last. “We have a friendly resource inside the Surveillance Monitoring Division. It’s possible we’ll learn more about the Gallery bombing by reviewing their footage.”
Thirty-One
DARCY’S CONTACT INSIDE the Monitoring Division eyed them with wary suspicion, but wasted no time in ushering them into her private office. Amos caught a glimpse of a plastic ID card on her jacket: Tara Lindholm. He tried not to stare at the impressive array of sophisticated technology, guessing the less she knew about their identities, the better.
