Betrayed: Episode Three of the Sister Planets Series

by Leviticus James

  I spot a chair nearby and sit in it. No matter where I pick, I’ll have prime seating. That’s another beautiful thing about VR—everyone gets a front-row seat.

  I turn and see I’m sitting next to Norah. “Well look who it is.”

  She doesn’t make eye contact. “I hate having to come to these things.”

  “But you have the social intelligence of a badger,” I prod. “Why dost thou protest so?”

  She sighs. “Shut up, Maverick.”

  I smile. “I love irritating you. It’s almost as much fun as irritating Esau.”

  A woman appears out of thin air in the middle of the stage. It’s none other than Lila Subramani. Tonight she’s in a stunning red dress, hair and makeup on point. She’s also taller—something I assume she can get away with since it’s a virtual environment.

  “Good evening, and welcome to the last of the vice-presidential debates. My name is Lila Subramani, filling in for Gwen Watson.”

  Good God, are they the only two reporters in the world?

  “As most of you know, the sitting vice president usually presides over the last of these debates. Unfortunately, Vice President Williams is ill this evening and therefore unable to attend.”

  I openly scoff. That old man hasn’t shown his face since he sealed his last term with Hawkins four years ago. He’s not sick. He simply doesn’t care.

  “Let’s not waste any more time and introduce our two candidates,” Lila says with a smile that flashes brilliantly white teeth. “First, we have Senator Michael Greenstreet.”

  Michael dissolves into place behind his podium. Everyone claps cordially. His nose is still somewhat crooked, but his virtual self seems to have a straighter snout than in real life. Nothing else about him seems to be different. Same clever eyes. Same dashing smile.

  “The other candidate joining the stage this evening is Mr. Domingo Zimmerman, CEO of Rock Solid Virtual Entertainment.”

  Mingo appears behind his podium to a mixture of loud cheering and boos. I snort. He looks comically younger than he is in real life. His haircut is boyish, and his skin is flawlessly youthful.

  “Isn’t he fifty something?” I ask Norah. She rolls her eyes and nods.

  Lila nods to the crowd. “Without any further delay, let’s get started.”

  Everyone claps politely for a few moments as Lila takes a seat facing the two pundits. As soon as she sits, the room quiets.

  “Mr. Zimmerman, let’s start with you. You’ve made comments in the last week stating you believe the eradication of guns is not nearly as important as the eradication of those with mental illnesses. Is that as straightforward as it sounds? If so, how would you go about doing such a thing?”

  Mingo Zimmerman may be a hologram right now, but that stupid smile of his is still one of the most infuriating things I’ve ever seen. He looks like a kid who’s farted and, despite being extremely pleased with himself, still has to wrinkle his nose and close his eyes because it smells so bad.

  “Well Lila, I tell you the first thing I’d do. I’d throw Michael Greenstreet in the crazy house. He’s obviously a nut job, am I right?”

  He looks to the room for a laugh. A few people give it to him, but it’s silent for the most part.

  I feel every cell in my body flare with fear. He’s talking about my family. My people.

  He starts talking again. “What I mean to do is get mentally sick people off the street and into hospitals where they can get help. My job, all day every day, is to run a successful company. And I do that really well. As a successful CEO, I have to identify what people need and fill that need. And what these people need is long-term, psychiatric help. They need to be in hospitals. I’m imagining big hospitals. Just for the mentally ill. They’ll go in and stay off the streets where they’ll do us and themselves harm.”

  “So, you’ll be institutionalizing them?” Lila asks.

  “No, Lila, I didn’t say institutionalize.”

  He offers no further explanation. After an awkward pause, Lila says, “I’m sorry, sir, help me to understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Typical. Lady gets easily confused.”

  The same laughers start barking again, but everyone else is shocked. Well, as shocked as they can be when it comes to Mingo Zimmerman.

  Lila isn’t fazed at all. I’m assuming that’s because she’s a projection. Her actual face can’t possibly look so collected right now. “I’m asking how you plan on keeping these people from harming others if they’re allowed to come and go as they please.”

  “They won’t. We’ll make sure to keep them there.”

  “How?”

  “It’ll be a law I pass. If you’re a threat to yourself or to the public, you have to stay.”

  “So they won’t be free to go? I thought you just said—”

  “Lila, dear, don’t over think it. I’ve got the best physicians in the world ready to step in and take care of things. I’ve helped many hospitals develop the technology they need to do amazing things. I’m not some kiss-ass politician like Michael Greenstreet. All talk and no follow through. I’ve got the connections. I’ve got the money. We’ll get it done.”

  The Zimmerman supporters in the room finally have something to clap about, so they do.

  When they’re done, Lila clears her throat. “Mr. Zimmerman, please clarify your previous statement. Will the patients of these hospitals be able to come and go as they please or will they be institutionalized against their will?”

  Mingo frowns. I smile. He was hoping Lila wouldn’t notice he’d avoided her question.

  “Those that come willingly can stay as long as they want, then those that have to stay will stay,” he says.

  Typical Mingo. Man is a giant word salad.

  “One last question before we move on to Senator Greenstreet—”

  Mingo scrunches his face and slaps the podium. “Hey! That’s not very much time. I need more time to talk about this.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Zimmerman, but there are strict time limits.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  She ignores him. “Mr. Zimmerman, you’ve been opposed to raising taxes in the past. How do you plan on paying for such a mental health network without tax revenue?”

  “I’m very good with money. Better than this fraud over here.” He points to Greenstreet. “He’s spent more money in his state than he’s ever brought in. Typical political waste. There are lots of places in the system right now that, if I just cut off a part we didn’t need, it would be plenty enough to pay for something like this.”

  “In which programs would you propose decreased funding?”

  Mingo looks up, sticks out his bottom lip, and sighs. “I’m thinking cuts across the board. Some from military, some from education, some from other social programs that aren’t pulling their weight. The money’s there. I’d just be putting it in the right spots.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman. Senator Greenstreet, same kind of question. How would you deal with the increase in mental illnesses we’re experiencing in the Earth States?”

  Greenstreet nods politely. “Thank you, Lila. I would continue to implement the policy I’ve already started in my state. As you well know …”

  I space out because I already know what Michael’s answer is going to be. That was my main argument for not needing to come tonight. I had been a part of all the meetings helping Michael get ready for this evening. We even held a mock debate where he ran through all of his answers.

  It’s because I’m not paying attention that I hear a shout.

  It’s very faint, and if I hadn’t been lost in my own world, I would have missed it. I look around. No one else seems to hear it. I sit back in my chair and try to pay attention.

  There it is again. I turn to Norah. “Do you hear that?”

  She keeps looking straight ahead at the debate.

  “Norah,” I say louder. “Did you hear something?”

  She continues to ignore me. I reach out to tap her on
the shoulder, but my hand goes through her like smoke. I stand up to face her. But when I do, I see myself still sitting in my chair, looking bored out of my mind. No one around me tells me to sit down or to stop bothering them.

  “Maverick!” the distant voice shouts.

  It’s Esau. I spin around, but I can’t find him anywhere.

  “Esau?” I shout. I look to the crowd to see how they’ll respond to a young woman making a scene during a vice-presidential debate.

  No one bats an eye.

  “Maverick! They’re coming! Maverick!”

  “Esau!” I scream.

  The room instantly pixelates, and I find myself back inside the VR pod at Amrian Enterprises. The hydraulic lid opens up with a sharp sucking noise, and my mask lifts off my face. The needle retracts from my spine. I squint and shake my head.

  Men in black tactical clothing surround me and point their guns in my face. Standing in the middle of them is Michael Greenstreet.

  Chapter 9

  I am sitting in the Tapestry Room at the senator’s mansion, looking at the tapestry itself: an olive-skinned woman with shimmering black hair standing on that small hill illuminated by pale light. I want her to open her eyes and tell me what to do. Surely, she’s seen something in this room that might help me get out of the situation I’m in. A secret or a piece of information I could use to set myself free.

  Her eyes remain shut, though; her face unchanging in the spooky light of the moon in the tapestry.

  My hands are ziptied in front of me. Guards stand posted at every corner of the room. They’re carrying guns and clothed in body armor. I’m still wearing the pair of sweats and oversized T-shirt I was in when I went into the virtual reality machine.

  I’m barefoot. I’m cold, I’m scared, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. From the moment my VR pod opened and I saw Greenstreet’s face, I’ve been wondering what went wrong. Did I do something that unraveled the entire plan? Was I framed? Did someone else drop the ball, and now I’m suffering because of it? What happened to Esau? I heard him yelling my name right before I was yanked out of the simulation, but I didn’t see him as they were dragging me out of the room.

  The door opens behind me. I jump up and spin around. The guards all point their guns at me. I’m very aware that inside those guns are bullets and the only thing keeping them from being inside of me is a tiny trigger next to these guards’ fingers.

  Michael steps in, a smug grin on his face. “You lose, Maverick.”

  I don’t respond.

  “You lose,” he repeats. “I stopped your little takeover from happening. The coup failed. You lose.”

  With all my strength, I try to keep confusion from appearing on my face.

  It doesn’t work, because Greenstreet starts laughing. “Oh boy! You didn’t know tonight was the night, did you? They sent you to the debate to keep you in the dark.”

  He stops talking like he expects me to start talking. I don’t, so he keeps going. “Someone with The Red Hand hacked the house. I’m guessing it was that autistic kid that came with you to your first legislative meeting, right? He’s got hacker written all over him.”

  The hairs on my neck bristle. It sounds like I’m not the reason this fell apart, but I’m wrecked that it could be because Esau slipped up.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  Greenstreet laughs. “I’m not going to answer any of your questions, you stupid girl. I will say this about your hacker boy, though. He’s good. We never would have caught the breech if it hadn’t been for my informant.”

  I have to take a deep breath to suppress my rage. Informant?

  Greenstreet walks toward me, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “We were expecting it when a small army of people showed up at my house tonight, planning to storm in and take me by surprise while I was in my VR machine. Fortunately for me, you can fake anything in VR—even your presence at a vice-presidential debate. Which is unfortunate for your friends, because that allowed me to lock the doors behind them after they stormed my house.”

  The senator chuckles, then says loudly, “William, raise the screen.”

  A computerized voice materializes from thin air. “Of course, Senator Greenstreet. Would you please verify your voice code first?”

  “Aletheia,” he says crisply.

  A motor begins to whir. I turn to see the enormous tapestry rising into the ceiling, revealing a glass wall behind it. On the other side is a bare white room. Inside are four chairs. In each of those chairs sits a motionless body with a black bag over their head.

  The senator snaps his fingers. Two guards come to me, grab me by the arms, and pull me to a big leather chair situated in front of the glass wall. They shove down on my shoulders and force me to sit down.

  I can’t take my eyes off the four chairs on the other side of the glass. They’re all in poorly fitting jumpsuits like the ones prisoners wear.

  Greenstreet stands behind me and to my right. “Mav, your reckless behavior has hurt a lot of people. I don’t think you’re aware of that fact. I don’t think you ponder about the well-being of others at all. Well, I’m going to give you some insight into how your actions change the lives of those around you for the worse.”

  As he’s speaking, a guard enters the room on the other side of the glass. He walks to the person sitting in the chair all the way to my left and grabs hold of the bag over their head. In one clean motion, he rips it off.

  In the chair, with a bullet hole in her head, is Auntie Mole Lady.

  I’m shocked, but also confused. I haven’t seen this woman since the night Merkatz died. What point is he trying to make?

  “You recognize her?” the senator asks.

  I don’t respond.

  “Answer me!”

  I startle. “Yes.”

  “This is the person who turned you in.”

  My blood boils. I can’t form a clear thought.

  “She’s the one who told us we’d been hacked. She thought she’d be rewarded for turning you all in. But how can I trust someone who would betray her own movement? So, I had her killed.”

  The guard moves to the next person and rips the bag away. Beneath is the sickly, emaciated form of Gwen Watson.

  “Good old Gwen thought she had one in on me because she found out about some of my sexual transgressions. I let her think she had me in her pocket and kept her happy. After you showed me what she said in your interview, I had her brought here, thrown into one of the cells below the mansion, and let her starve. She died three days ago.”

  I never liked Gwen, but this makes me dry heave.

  The guard moves to the next body and grabs the hood. A second before he rips off the mask, I recognize the body attached to the hidden face beneath it.

  “No!” I scream.

  Mika’s battered and bloody face fills my vision. His forehead is marked with a bullet hole.

  I scream and cry and shout. I thrash in the chair and try to leap so I can claw at the glass and make the image go away. One of the guards backhands me across the face. I’m still screaming and crying, but now I’m not moving.

  Greenstreet laughs. He leans down and gets in my face. “God, you are something else, you know it? He was a tough one to bring down. He suffered before he died.”

  I scream, unable to think of something to say that means every curse word wrapped into one.

  Greenstreet laughs again, looks to the guard in the glass room, and makes a hand gesture. “Last one.”

  I don’t look up. I close my eyes and sob. If Greenstreet saved the worst for last, I don’t want to know who is sitting in that last chair.

  I know who it is, though. Only one person could hurt worse than Mika.

  “Look,” Greenstreet barks.

  I don’t.

  “Look, damn you,” he growls. He reaches down and wrenches my face toward the other side of the room. It happens so fast that I don’t have time to close my eyes.

  It’s Jacob.

  Chapter 10<
br />
  I scream again. This one rumbles up into my throat from deep down inside me. Despite the pain, I can’t look away.

  Jacob’s face looks nearly as bad as Mika’s. His eyes are swollen shut from the beating he endured. His lips are split in several places, and there are bruises and cuts all over his face and scalp.

  His head lifts ever so slightly.

  He’s still alive.

  I look to Greenstreet. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t believe it.

  Greenstreet points at Jacob. “The only reason you aren’t responsible for his death is because he’s important to Norah.”

  “Norah?” I choke out.

  “We can’t find her, but we think she’ll come back for this one,” he says, pointing at Jacob. “If we bring her in, all of this falls apart.”

  Greenstreet turns back to me. “I still don’t know how you fit into all of this, but we’re going to find out.”

  “I’m not telling you anything!” I scream.

  Greenstreet chuckles. “I didn’t ask you to give it willingly. I said we were going to find out.”

  With a wave of his hand, more guards enter the glass room and start to remove the bodies. I let out a whimper, but no actual words come out of my mouth. Soon, the room is empty except for a few drops of blood on the floor.

  The glass panel begins to rise. The guards hoist me up by my arms and drag me toward the chamber.

  I flail and scream. I bite them, but my mouth fills with cloth body armor instead of skin. They take me through a separate door than the one they hauled the others through. I try to hook my feet around the door frames, but it’s no use.

  They drag me through a dimly lit hallway lined with doors. At the end of the corridor is a pair of clouded glass doors that open as we approach.

  I don’t form the actual thought, but my whole body knows I’m about to die.

  I struggle to free myself from the iron grips of the guards. I lift both my legs up off the floor, but refusing to walk does little to slow our progress. I take aim at one of the guard’s knees, and stomp with all my might. He grunts as it buckles and he falls.

  “Damn it girl, stop!” he shouts.