Scorpion

by Deven Kane

  Jane smirked, rolling her eyes. “King Darcy. Wouldn’t that be peachy?”

  Connor glared at the obnoxious savage, but a beep from his wrist com pre-empted his hot retort. Tony bolted forward, rigid and pale.

  There was a five second pause, and then a second beep. Connor glanced down, eyeing the miniature screen with bated breath, and then nodded at the chauffeur.

  “Darcy’s made contact?” Garr asked. The Runners had visibly tensed, watching Connor for his reaction.

  Connor nodded, getting to his feet with a nonchalant air. He drained the rest of his latte, ignoring the hot liquid’s effect on his scalded tongue. “Darcy won’t risk saying anything over a wrist com. Our villa’s secure. We’ll go back there. Just act like everything’s normal.”

  “For the next day or two, anyway.” Jane smirked up at him. “Until it’s family node-time.”

  Connor set his cup down with more self-control than he realized he possessed. He locked eyes with the obnoxious Jane, feeling far older than his seventeen years.

  “In the next day or two,” he said as mildly as possible, “we could all be dead.”

  Fifty-Three

  “HOW MANY SURVIVORS?”

  Ethan Jacobs, his lab coat unfailingly spotless, consulted his clipboard. The digital display recorded a long list of names, the majority of which were now grayed out, leaving a much smaller sampling in highlighted color.

  “It appears there are eight, Councilor.” Ethan kept his voice carefully neutral, clinical. He scanned the list a second time, concerned his count might be inaccurate. Sterne didn’t tolerate sloppiness. “All others have been accounted for.”

  “Eight.” Sterne stood facing the polarized window, hands clasped behind his back. Lightning flashed purple in the distance. The storm clouds reduced the mid-afternoon sky to near dusk, but Stern appeared not to notice.

  Ethan understood the folly of interrupting his employer’s thoughts. He dialed up a new screen on his digital clipboard, anticipating.

  The Councilor turned from the window. “We’ll proclaim tomorrow an official day of mourning.”

  He watched as Ethan dutifully entered the information, efficient and precise. “We’ll also call for an emergency Council session tomorrow evening. Various assistants will need to be promoted, responsibilities shuffled in light of our losses—that sort of thing.”

  “If I may, sir?” Ethan looked up from his clipboard. “The Council Chamber, or what’s left of it, is still an active crime scene. Where should I tell them this meeting will take place?”

  “Here, in the Citadel,” Sterne replied without hesitation. “The symmetry is perfect. Everything began here, after all.”

  Ethan scribbled a note. “And Mateo?”

  “Has been apprised.” The Councilor cut him off. He’d lost interest in the conversation. “He’ll be here.”

  He gestured at the clipboard in Ethan’s hand. “Have that printed on official letterhead, and send it out right away.”

  Sterne returned to his post by the window, his back to his underling. Meeting adjourned. Ethan tucked the clipboard under his arm.

  “As you wish, Councilor.”

  Fifty-Four

  CONNOR BREATHED A SIGH of relief when the villa door opened. He spotted Darcy on the balcony, gazing into the falling rain.

  Connor knew what his foster father was doing: analyzing their situation from every possible angle. Darcy’s ability to strategize—even in the heat of the moment—was a rare gift, one Connor envied.

  “Ah, Colonel Rucker, and Sheila.” Darcy stepped inside the villa, closing the balcony door. He approached them, extending his arms as if greeting long-lost friends. “I see you’ve brought some of your colleagues. Good welcome to you.”

  Tony fidgeted beside Connor, looking uncomfortable.

  Take it easy, Tony. Connor fumed at the chauffeur’s lack of professionalism. You’ll make them suspicious.

  Garr led the way into the middle of the room, flanked by his companions. Unlike the feigned enthusiasm of his host, he seemed detached and wary.

  “Good welcome, Darcy,” he said evenly, meeting his gaze as if they were equals. “Allow me to introduce you to my team.”

  “Don Bernard.” The big man tugged at the sleeves of the garment they’d provided for him. He offered no handshake, standing aloof and defiant beside the Colonel. Connor hid a smirk, knowing the burly savage’s future.

  Jane shoved forward, sticking out her hand. “I’m Jane,” she said with a wide and insincere smile. Connor seethed anew. “But you can call me Snake Lady.”

  Darcy regarded her with icy eyes.

  “Charming,” he said dryly, ignoring her out-thrust hand.

  He averted his eyes, looking over her head to Garr. “If this delinquent child is the best you can offer, Colonel, we’ll do our best to work with her.”

  Jane’s mouth dropped open and her hands balled into fists. Sheila caught her arm with a firm hand.

  “Remember who the real enemy is,” she stage-whispered, dragging Jane away from Darcy.

  Don shifted position, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart. The subtle movement did not go unnoticed. Darcy eyed him with frank appraisal, sizing him up.

  “Colonel, as Sheila just reminded us, we have a common enemy.” Darcy’s eyes never left Don. “The Givers have taken some bold steps, and our window of opportunity is closing faster than expected.”

  “So Connor says,” Garr replied, warning Jane with a stern look. “The last time we spoke, Councilor, none of you were part of the Anodyne Initiative. Connor tells me that particular window is about to close, as well.”

  “Tomorrow morning.” There was no change in Darcy’s expression as he uttered the words. He might have been commenting on the weather. “As a respected Council member, I’ll lead my fellow Citizens by example, giving the Anodyne Initiative my full endorsement by my participation.”

  “Who’s holding the gun to your head?” Don’s baritone drawl dripped with sarcasm. He eyed Darcy with a mixture of suspicion and doubt. “You expect us to believe you’re doing this for the greater good of Hoarderville?”

  Connor kept silent by sheer willpower, comforted by the thought the arrogant behemoth would soon be Implanted. You won’t be so mouthy then.

  Darcy regarded his mocker with a dispassionate stare, allowing the moment to supersaturate with tension before he deigned to reply.

  “There are very few things I wouldn’t do for the good of the Enclave,” he said at last, his voice rich with scorn. “I have no desire to enable the Givers to track my every move. But to protect our alliance, I will. For the good of the Enclave.”

  The savages stood in a tight cluster in the middle of the room. Connor couldn’t tell if any of them took Darcy’s speech at face value or not.

  He crossed the room to stand between his foster father and the savages. He kept his back to the unpredictable group, shunning them as if they weren’t there. He hoped they noticed. “I’ve already explained how it would look if we didn’t show up. They understand the collaborators will be watching for any hold-outs.”

  He took a deep breath, relieved it didn’t sound too shaky. “Where, and what time, tomorrow?”

  Darcy shook his head before Connor finished asking the question. “You’re not coming with me, Connor. It’s important that you’re able to move under the Givers’ radar for as long as possible. I alone will volunteer tomorrow.”

  Connor opened his mouth to protest, but Darcy stopped him with a frosty look. Don’t argue—he’s made up his mind. “You’re a dedicated university student, Connor. You couldn’t afford time away from your classes. Of course, as the son of a prominent Councilor, you’ll gladly accept your node.”

  Darcy allowed himself a cold smile. “But not yet.”

  Connor ducked his head in a quick nod, recognizing the alibi his foster father had just provided. “Understood, sir.”

  Darcy looked past him to the silent knot of savages.

  “W
here are my manners?” He gestured to the dining table with great enthusiasm. “You must be famished after your long trek through the sewage system. The least I can do is offer you some proper nourishment.”

  No one moved. Connor tensed, very aware that the savages outnumbered them.

  Darcy appealed to Garr and Sheila. “Join us, please. Remember how well we fed you during your first visit.” He beamed like an exuberant restaurateur.

  Connor wondered if they’d balk at his invitation, but there was no need to worry. Garr took a seat at the table, and the others followed suit.

  Tony coughed, muffling the sound behind his hand. He’d stayed just inside the front door since they’d entered. He gave Darcy an imploring look, gesturing at the closed portal.

  “Yes, of course.” Darcy answered his unspoken question. His impatience suggested he’d forgotten Tony’s presence. “I’ll send for you later.”

  The chauffeur nodded with obsequious gratitude, slipping out before Darcy finished speaking.

  “Tony has a wife and children. He’s a good father.” Darcy spoke to the savages as if they were old friends. “It’s a pity he can’t join us, but one must admire his priorities.”

  Darcy seated himself with a flourish at the head of the table, gesturing to Connor to sit at the opposite end, facing him. Connor obliged, astounded at the lengths Darcy was going to. The feast was extravagant, overloading the table with steaming platters of choice cuisine.

  Connor repressed a smile. He’s pulling out all the stops to lull their suspicions. Personally, I wouldn’t have wasted our best food on them.

  The savages picked at their food at first, but the enticing aromas won them over in little time. Even Jane was wolfing her food down as if she hadn’t eaten in years.

  Connor smirked as he ate. We’re all eating from the same menu. That should put them at ease.

  He caught himself humming an old tune, and realized his mood was improving.

  Two additional Implants by morning. That, by itself, was worth celebrating.

  Fifty-Five

  CONNOR LOADED THE LAST of the dishes into the sanitizer, stifling a yawn as he selected the appropriate cleaning cycle. The machine’s hum reminded him of so many evenings over the years—the full meal, the ritual cleanup afterward, and now the familiar sound of the sanitizer purging all microbes from their dishes.

  This evening was different, on several jarring levels. The presence of the savages, the lack of genuine camaraderie and conversation around the table, and the incessant gnawing of the unknown tomorrow—it was a marked departure from his childhood memories.

  He touched the metal lump under his shirt, caressing the locket’s outline. His mind wandered beyond their mission to rid the Enclave of the Givers. He was going to rescue Megan from the savages, no matter what it took.

  He yawned again, and when he opened his eyes, Darcy was there, standing in the kitchen’s arched entryway. Connor waved a weary hand at him. Everything felt hazy and fuzzy, and all he wanted was to lie down.

  “Here, you’d better take these.” Darcy held out his hand, dropping two red tablets into Connor’s open palm. “They’ll counteract the sedatives.”

  Connor mumbled his thanks as he popped the pills into his mouth, stumbling across the kitchen to help himself to a juicer from the cooler.

  “Where’d you hide them?” He propped himself against the counter as he waited for the medication to take effect. “In the meat, or the potatoes?”

  He snapped his fingers, trying hard to focus on his hand and failing. “The dessert. That’s it, right? You put the sedatives in the dessert.”

  Darcy leaned against the counter opposite him, keeping a wary eye on the gathering room. The savages were crammed into the guest room to sleep—you’ll need your energy for tomorrow—but Darcy was too smart to drop his guard. Or allow his voice to be overheard.

  “All of the above.” A sly grin creased his face. “There’s too much at stake not to lace everything with sedatives.”

  He took a generous sip of the whisky in his other hand. “The Colonel and Sheila will enjoy the deepest sleep they’ve had since . . . well, since the night they received their Implants. They won’t even realize we’ve taken Don and—what did she call herself—Snake Lady?”

  Darcy chuckled. “After tonight, she’ll be more poisonous than she could ever imagine.”

  Connor managed to focus on Darcy’s face. “You’re going to go through with it—the node, I mean.” He admired Darcy’s unflinching commitment to their cause. “That wasn’t a speech just for savages’ benefit, was it?”

  Darcy sighed, looking pensive. “We—I don’t have a choice. It’s a strategic risk, Connor. Yes, I’ll have a node, and that will limit what I can do and where I can go. But it will also deflect suspicion away from us.”

  He took another gulp of his drink, swallowing mightily. “The Council’s called for an emergency session tomorrow evening. I’ll have a node by then, and they’ll track my whereabouts if I don’t show up. But by the end of the meeting, I’ll know which Councilors survived the bombing. Then we’ll match our new Implants to them.”

  Something was off. Connor’s thoughts moved sluggishly. Are the sedatives still affecting me?

  He massaged his temples, hoping to clear his mind. “You mean the collaborators. Not the entire Council.”

  “All of them,” Darcy hissed between his teeth.

  He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, his eyes glittering, alive with malicious fire. “None of them can be trusted. We’ll rid ourselves of the aliens and the blind fools who followed them. The Enclave will be humans-only again.”

  Connor nodded, anticipating their next move. “And then we’ll reverse the Anodyne Initiative.”

  Darcy laughed, digging his fingers into Connor’s shoulder to emphasize his point.

  “No, no, Connor,” he said, still chuckling. “I’ve realized what a mistake that would be. Don’t you see? The Givers have given us a gift—the ability to keep tabs on the Enclave’s entire population. Think of it—think of what we could do for the good of the Enclave.”

  Darcy released his grip and staggered into the gathering room. Connor stared after him, shaken. He doesn’t mean that. He’s drunk, that’s all.

  But the more he thought about it, the more Darcy’s plan made sense. Even the parts that made Connor uncomfortable.

  It’s for the good of the Enclave.

  Fifty-Six

  “I’LL PICK YOU UP LATER,” Tony said, hovering near the door. They were in one of the faceless financial high-rises near the center of the Enclave. It was late, well after business hours, and the office towers were dark and empty.

  Except for one basement unit. Darcy’s anonymous clinic, staffed by anonymous medical personnel.

  “Three hours, no more.” Connor tried to put the crack of an order in his words. “Darcy expects us back before daybreak.”

  “I know the routine.” Tony glared at him through blood-shot eyes. He’d developed a nervous tic. “I’ve never been late.”

  “Sure, sure, see you then.” Connor dismissed him, too tired to waste time arguing. He hates being told what to do by someone half his age.

  Tony muttered something under his breath, and then he was gone. Connor heard the exterior door open and shut.

  A few more hours with the wife and kids. They’re already sound asleep, Tony. What difference will it make?

  It hadn’t been easy, manhandling Don’s bulk down the hallway and into the elevator. In the end, Tony and Connor each threw one of his arms across their shoulders, and half-carried, half-dragged him. They also threw in a few calculated remarks about having too much to drink, for the sake of any surveillance cameras.

  Darcy carried Jane’s limp body in his arms as he followed them. He was sober enough to perform the task without falling over. If anything, his erratic gate and slurred speech would lend credibility to their cover story.

  “It’s two-thirty in the morning. Would you like to get some
sleep, sir?” It took Connor a moment to realize the orderly was speaking to him. I’m not used to people calling me “sir.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” he replied, stifling a yawn. “Big day tomorrow.”

  “You mean today.” The orderly grinned, pointing to a clock on the wall. “There’s a bed in the next examining room. We’ll wake you once the Implant procedure is complete.”

  Connor thanked him and wandered into the adjacent room. He extinguished the light and stretched out on the cot with a grateful sigh.

  He spied the orderly peering around the edge of the door, keeping a watchful eye on him. Connor smiled, grateful for the added security. Being Darcy’s foster son has its perks.

  He rolled onto his side and dozed off almost immediately, dreaming of a Giver-free Enclave.

  Fifty-Seven

  “BUT THEY’RE our people. Are you sure they won’t get hurt?”

  Amos crouched on the metal catwalk above the Enclave’s maintenance cavern. Aubrey’s voice carried from the narrow crevice behind him. The cavern below was dimly-lit—they’d managed to beat the beginning of the day shift.

  Megan assisted Aubrey as her feet landed on the catwalk. Salt water trickled from the crevice behind her, a warning of what was to come.

  Aubrey pulled herself up, grasping the rail for support. Her mouth fell open when she saw the vast array of hulking machinery below.

  “I know they’re our people.” Amos raised his voice to be heard as the machines groaned and popped into grating life. He gestured at the growing rivulet of ocean water. “It won’t take long for them to figure out what’s happening.”

  Mateo slid down to join them. He was a wild sight, disheveled and bloody. His clothing, rain and sea-soaked, clung to his body as he strove to catch his breath.

  Behind him, the trickle of ocean water began to gush with greater insistence, the salty brine pulsing through the catwalk’s mesh flooring.