by C. J. Hill
“I’m glad we’re out of the building,” she said. “Those are my favorite.”
“Favorite what?” Echo asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, the warden’s VIP suites are nice too, and you can’t beat the food there—what am I saying? An Enforcer can beat anything, right? That’s why I keep hearing screaming down the hallway.”
“What?” Echo asked. All the men were staring at her.
“Gallows humor,” she said. “It’s especially appropriate when people have just tried to kill you.”
Lee’s brows drew together. “She’s not making any sense. Did Reilly inject her with something before we took her?”
“No,” Echo said.
“He might have,” Ren said. “We were too busy fighting to see what went on. We’ll have Xavier scan her as soon as we meet up.”
Echo leaned toward her, hands on his knees. “Are you feeling dizzy?”
“No.” She relaxed against her seat, returning his steady stare. “I like the Zorro look. It works for you. That’s the advantage of being a hot guy, isn’t it? You can pull anything off.”
“Pull what off?” Echo asked. “I understood the Zorro reference, but not anything else. I can’t tell if you’re speaking in twenty-first-century idioms or if something is wrong.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I only meant that I’m glad you’re here. I was getting tired of Tariq. A guy can rescue a girl only so many times before it becomes passé.”
Lee tilted his head, examining her. “It could be shock.”
“Or,” Sheridan said tightly, “it could be the chip Reilly put in my brain. That’s always a possibility.”
The color drained from Echo’s face. “What?”
“Is it a tracking chip?” Ren asked.
Lee said, “Why would they put a tracking chip in her when they have one in her crystal?”
Ren sighed and gestured helplessly at Sheridan. “We don’t know that anyone put anything into her brain. She might be suffering from some sort of neural failure. Who knows what they did to her?”
Echo moved closer to Sheridan. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I was so stupid to risk everything.” He ran his hand across her forehead and down the side of her face. She thought it was a comforting gesture, then realized he was looking for a scar, proof of the chip. She could have told him it was on her other temple but decided she liked the feel of his fingers brushing against her cheek. She had to enjoy the little pleasures while she could. She would let herself pretend this was real for a few moments.
“I rearranged the timestream,” Echo said. “I didn’t know it would hurt you.” He lifted the hair at the side of her face, checking there.
Sheridan smiled lazily. “And you accuse me of not making sense.”
He tilted her face toward him. “It’s going to take a long time to explain everything.” That was when he saw the scar on her temple, right below her hairline. “Sangre,” he swore. “They did put something in her head.”
Lee left his seat and sat on her other side, muttering about what a demon Reilly was. Sheridan tried to think of something cavalier to say but couldn’t. All this sympathy was wearing down her barriers. Then she felt a prick at the base of her neck. She spun her head toward Lee and saw the needle in his hand.
“You’re drugging me?” she asked indignantly.
“Until we know what they put in you,” he said. “Otherwise you could harm yourself or someone else.”
“‘Someone else’ has my vote,” she said. Or at least meant to say. Before all the words came out, she went limp in Echo’s arms.
Chapter 37
Riding the rail-jumper had been so noisy and intense, Taylor didn’t notice any of Ren’s calls until Mendez pulled into a parking garage. By that time, the smell of maple—Ren’s signal—was so strong that it was making her crave pancakes.
Mendez drove into an empty car slot and turned off the bike.
Taylor scanned the rows of empty, waiting cars. “Why did we come here?”
“We’ve got to switch to a car now.” Mendez dismounted by standing on the footrests and swinging one of his long legs over the front of the bike. Echo got off next.
As Taylor got off, she unclipped her comlink. She had four missed calls and a message.
Mendez pushed his car-call button. “People notice rail-jumpers.” The nearest car slid from its spot and obediently came toward them. “We’ve got to make sure no one tracks us.”
Before Taylor could check her message from Ren, four men walked into the parking garage. They were dressed in the normal bright Traventon clothes. Not Enforcers, but maybe Dakine. They all held gadgets of some sort, things that resembled knives. One carried a large bag. They didn’t speak, and their expressions were determined, fierce almost. The men headed straight toward Mendez, Echo, and Taylor with a fast, focused stride.
Echo immediately positioned himself between Taylor and the men. He was protecting her from laser fire, she realized. She didn’t even have time to protest before Mendez called to the men, “Ete sen.” The men nodded at Mendez, and the one carrying the bag threw it to him. Mendez caught it and turned to the car without any signs of worry. These men were DW, apparently.
Taylor let the relief run over her, let her heart get back to its job of dutifully pumping. Mendez might have warned them they were about to meet up with some of his friends. But no, he wouldn’t have. None of the DW were ever forthcoming with information that could be used against them.
Echo turned and went to the car without saying anything to her. She followed him, amazed that he had put himself between her and danger. Again. She hadn’t given him any reason to make that sort of sacrifice.
Mendez climbed into the car and handed her the bag. “Clothes and hats. You’ll need to change.”
Through the window, Taylor could see that the men had made their way to the rail-jumper. They bent over the bike, putting their gadgets on the wheels and handlebars. By the time the car glided out of the garage, the men had disassembled the rail-jumper and were carrying its pieces into a nearby car.
The smell of maple wafted over Taylor again. She’d been so startled to see the men in the garage, she’d forgotten about Ren’s message. She opened it. You’re a hypocrite, it read.
Well, that was nice.
And you’re a tactless troglodyte, she wrote back. Do you have news for me or not?
A moment later, Ren called her. His voice was full of frustration. “Did you destroy the QGPs? We have Sheridan. That’s what the pot calling the kettle black means—you’re a hypocrite.”
“You have her?” Taylor nearly came off her seat in excitement.
“I just said we did, didn’t I? The QGPs?”
“I destroyed them already, and you’re not a troglodyte after all. Let me speak to her.”
A pause. “You can’t. She’s unconscious right now.” Ren said this in the same tone a person would use when saying, “She’s busy,” or “She stepped out.” She’s unconscious right now.
“What?” Taylor asked.
“Just a precaution,” Ren said. “Reilly put some sort of chip into her. It will need to be taken out.”
“What sort of chip? Who’s going to take it? Where are you?”
Ren gave her a brief rundown of their escape from the detention center and the things that Sheridan had said. “We’re at the Recreation Center now,” he finished up. “Joseph went to the restaurant to talk to someone about Sheridan.”
Taylor turned to Mendez and passed that information on to him. “Call your people at the restaurant,” she told him. “Vouch for Joseph.”
Ren was about to end the call when Taylor said, “Wait, I have something else to tell you. It’s bad news. About Xavier.” She swallowed hard. Her throat felt like she’d eaten nails. “He was shot while we were coming out of the courthouse.” She somehow got the rest of the story out. She told him, in faltering sentences, how Xavier had stepped in front of her and how they’d had to leav
e his body in the car. She added, almost as a footnote, that Allana had betrayed them to the Dakine.
Ren listened without comment, and his silence felt like—what? Judgment? Sympathy? Accusation, maybe? When she finished, the only thing he said was “I’m sorry about Xavier. I’ll contact the council as soon as I can and let them know.” Then he ended the call. More silence. Only it wasn’t really silent, because she could hear the sounds from the courthouse lobby. The gasbots whirring. Shots being fired. Xavier’s voice calling her name.
Echo’s gaze was on her. He’d been watching her for most of her conversation. “Xavier’s death—it wasn’t your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.”
“It wasn’t,” Echo said. “I know the difference.”
She paused, realizing what he meant. When Lobo had ordered Joseph’s and Allana’s deaths, it had been because Echo had told Lobo that Allana had broken a Dakine law. The weight of that—no wonder Echo had done everything he could to save them both.
“The Dakine assassinations weren’t your fault,” Taylor told Echo. “You didn’t order Joseph’s and Allana’s executions.”
“It was my fault because I joined the Dakine,” he said.
Taylor knew she couldn’t say anything that would change his mind about that, so she just put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze.
A HALF HOUR LATER, Taylor, Echo, and Mendez made their way across the Traventon Plaza Recreation Center courtyard to the employees’ entrance at the back of the Fisherman’s Feast. Mendez walked a few paces ahead of them so that they wouldn’t look like they were together.
Taylor allowed herself to feel relieved. The hard part of the mission was over. Echo was quiet as he walked. His gaze swept around the area, checking for anyone who might recognize them. The people they saw were all busy in conversations about the rank badges, either on their comlinks or with friends who were with them. Taylor saw more than one group of teenagers taking pictures of themselves with their rank badges proudly displayed.
Even if anyone had given Echo and her a second look, it would have been hard to recognize them under their wide-brimmed hats. They were both dressed like cowboys who’d been in a paint fight. Echo’s shirt was a kaleidoscope of blues that made his eyes stand out. Such a pretty blue, one that reminded Taylor of the missing sky.
She and Echo would be safe soon and on their way to Santa Fe. What would happen when they reached the city? Would Echo want to see her again? Would they be friends?
Echo caught her staring.
She cleared her throat. “I never really thanked you for pulling me from the rail, or carrying me to the building, or fixing my ankle. I sort of stink at thank-yous.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
The smell of fried food wafted out from the back of the restaurant. The building looked like a huge tin tackle box: made of metal and a little beat-up on the edges. “You were amazing fighting the Dakine,” she added. “Thanks for that too.”
“Don’t thank me for that one.” His stride was tense and quick. “I’m the reason the Dakine found us. I brought Allana from the past. It was stupid of me.”
Taylor reached out and put her hand on Echo’s arm. “You wanted to save her life even though she’d hurt you. That’s not stupid, Echo. That’s noble.”
Echo let out a grunt of disagreement. “Yeah, you can tell Joseph that when he starts yelling at me.”
They reached the restaurant door, and Mendez led them inside. Taylor barely noticed her surroundings. The yellow stripes on the wall that hid the secret door, the cement steps that led downstairs, the narrow hallway that opened up to a large room—it was a blur. She was too eager to see Sheridan to care about anything else.
A dozen people who were dressed in camouflage bustled around the windowless room, putting things into backpacks. Taylor saw Sheridan right off. She lay on a gurney, unconscious, a blanket covering everything but her head. Her face was painted in browns and greens, and her hair had been put in a camouflage cap. Joseph, his pack already on his shoulders, stood by the gurney talking to another man.
Taylor ran the distance to them and knelt down by her sister. It was hard to tell much about her while she slept. Taylor brushed her hand across Sheridan’s forehead. “Is she all right? She’s not injured?” Ren had told Taylor that Sheridan was fine, but she wanted to hear it from Joseph, needed the reassurance.
“Her stats are all good,” he said. “The meds at the DW center will be able to take out the chip when they take out her crystal. We’re about to leave for the clinic right now.”
“Okay,” Taylor said. “I’m ready to go.”
Joseph eyed her. “No, you’re not. You’re not in camouflage and you’re limping. You need to have a med take care of your ankle before you make the hike.”
“I can be ready soon,” Taylor said. She looked around the room for a med. With everyone dressed in camouflage, she didn’t recognize anybody, couldn’t even tell who was in charge.
Joseph didn’t say more to her because Echo walked up. Joseph pointed a finger at him. “I can’t believe you strained Allana, someone you knew was—”
Echo lifted his hands. “I know.”
“If anything had happened to Taylor—”
“I know,” Echo said, more firmly.
“You don’t know,” Joseph snapped. “You don’t know how hard it would be for me to tell Dad that I brought you back to life and then killed you myself.”
Taylor stood up. “It’s okay, Joseph. Echo had to save Allana. He saved my life too—more than once. Now let’s concentrate on saving Sheridan.” She looked around the room again. “Where’s some camouflage stuff? I need to change so I can go with you.”
Four men came over to the group, packs secured on their backs. They had an air of efficiency about them, an unspoken authority. Each picked up an end of Sheridan’s gurney. “It’s time to leave,” one of them told Joseph.
Joseph adjusted his pack and turned to go with them. “I’ll see you when you reach the clinic,” he told Taylor and Echo.
Taylor followed after him, doing her best to hide her limp. “I have to go with Sheridan. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’ll make sure she’s okay,” Joseph said patiently. “Trust me, all right?”
Trust him. She supposed it was time she did that. She stopped, sighed, and watched as he walked away beside Sheridan.
Chapter 38
When Sheridan woke up, the first thing she noticed was a skylight over her bed. A cottony cloud sprawled across a blue patch of sky. That was new. Some fern fronds dangled on top of the window, shifting in the wind. She wasn’t in her cell. She was underground somewhere, looking up.
She blinked and took in her surroundings, remembering what had happened: Reilly, the memory wash room, Echo rescuing her, Lee drugging her in the car. The room she was now in was medium sized and, judging from the computer screen above her bed, was some sort of hospital room.
Echo sat on a chair beside the bed. His face was normal again—that effortless sort of handsome that made her feel self-conscious. His hair was still black, but the Zorro dye was gone. His eyes looked tired and worn, like blue glass that had been chipped.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She sat up, and a sharp pain flashed through the side of her head, momentarily making her dizzy. “Where am I?” She touched her temple. The skin was numb and had a coating on it that felt like plastic. “What did they do to me?”
“You’re in a DW center,” Echo said. His voice was low, soothing, and tinged with an apology. Even when he didn’t say it, the “I’m sorry” was still there, lingering in between his other words. “A med removed your crystal and the VR chip from your brain.” He leaned closer to her. “Reilly ran programs on you—made you experience things that weren’t real. Did you know that already—that some of the things that happened to you in the detention cell were computer generated?”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him warily. Chances were, no
ne of this was real. She looked around the room hoping to see some food. None was around. “Where is Taylor?”
“She’ll be here soon. We left the city before she did. We thought it was important to get the chip out of you as soon as possible.”
He was promising Taylor but not delivering her. Typical of Reilly’s programs. She gazed around the room again. The door didn’t look like the sort that locked people in. She checked those sorts of things automatically now, the same way she searched for items to use as weapons. In this room, the best weapon was probably the chair Echo sat on. It looked light enough to throw. “Can I have something to eat?” she asked.
Echo glanced at the time on his comlink. “Not yet. The med said you need to wait until the anesthesia is out of your system or the food will make you sick.”
No food either. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, already angry. Reilly was dangling hope in front of her, dangling freedom, just to snatch it away from her again. “You’re not really Echo,” she said.
He startled, and his eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s never real.” She threw off the blanket, wanting to run, to fight, to do anything besides let this happen again. The sudden movement made her vision spin and tilt. She put her feet on the floor anyway.
She hadn’t seen him leave the chair, but Echo stood in front of her. She wobbled, and he took hold of her arm. “Wait, Sheridan; you don’t understand.”
“It’s not ever real!” She tried to wrench her arm away from him, and when she couldn’t, she pushed at him, hitting him almost. “It’s never real. Just leave me alone.” Her voice cracked, and she took deep breaths to regain her control. She couldn’t break down. She wouldn’t let them do that to her.
“This is real,” Echo told her. “I’m real. Let me explain.”
She kept pulling away from him.
“You and I had a secret,” he said. “I gave you a picture of Santa Claus when we were at the city walls. Do you remember?”
