“What?” she snapped, expecting more vitriol.
“Maybe something is wrong,” Grant said in a near-whisper. She hung on to his every word like he could be the one to save her from the mortification. “My roommate Dylan would never go off the grid in a time of great importance.”
“The call for Copia is going out in ten, nine, eight...” someone counted down from down the hall. Mick grumbled and took off, his shoulder hitting Blair as he went. She brought her hand up to her shoulder and kept it there.
“You have no right to be here,” Blair said to Grant with sharp condemnation.
“I’m sorry,” Grant said instantly. “I just—”
Blair raised the radio to her lips once again and said, shakier this time, “Private Ryley. We don’t want to continue without you, but—”
The steady alarm interrupted her.
“All Copia residents please report to The Center for briefing. All Copia residents please report to The Center for a housing briefing.”
Grant still held tightly to Frank as the beeping filled the halls. He realized that he had left his poster back in his apartment. He wondered if he would have time to run and get it, but then he realized that he shouldn’t. A still, small voice told him to stay put and stay vigilant.
“I should get going, I guess,” Grant said loudly and he held the leash out for her to take.
Blair looked at Frank and then at Grant. She wiped away a tear.
“I have to greet people,” she said. “Just for a bit. Maybe...could you...if you don’t mind? Just hang on to Frank for a bit. For me?” She had returned to a more softened demeanor. The Copia residents started to file past the hallway, and she rushed to catch them, and greet them warmly. She called to some of them by name. He could hear the excitement in their voices, and he watched as they filed past with their collection of suitcases and bags.
A family stopped and shook Blair’s hand. A little girl tugged on her skirt.
“My daddy says Copia is amazing,” she said in a chipper voice.
Blair put her hand on the little girl’s head. She closed her eyes and seemed to be holding back a range of emotion. “It is, darling.”
The father pushed the little girl forward with a sibling and he leaned close to Blair. He spoke to her in a mock-whisper, his voice clearly audible above the alarm. “So, is Copia as beautiful as I’ve been telling everyone?” he asked.
Blair nodded. “My father...”
The man wagged a finger in her face, “...is the breaker of promises.”
“He’s tried very hard to—”
“I’ll speak to Gordy next time I need something. And you make sure to pass that message along.” He disappeared into the crowd without another word.
Grant cleared his throat after the first wave passed. “Do you think I should go in?” he asked, extending the leash like an olive branch.
“Just stay,” she said. “I don’t like talking to some of these people...they can be so...”
“Rude?”
She smiled sadly. “I didn’t bargain for this. I’m here so that my dad and brother don’t have to be.”
“How can you be so calm? So friendly to them?”
He watched Noah approach with his family. Despite all his attempts to partner up with Grant through the week, Noah shot Grant a condescending look as he walked by. They were on their way to a new place and the kid had no use for Grant’s friendship anymore.
“Leash holder for the Elektos, Grant?” Noah laughed. He looked around to see who was laughing with him. “Just find someone else to follow around like a lovesick puppy dog. Grant Trotter, the puppy dog.” Noah rolled his eyes and kept walking.
Blair winced and then stared off down the hall where more people filed in. “Seems like we’re both targets today,” she said.
“That didn’t even make sense,” Grant added, shaking his head. “That guy is so dumb.”
“I’m not even a member of the Elektos. My own dad didn’t even want me to have any say in anything,” she said and let out a small self-deprecating laugh, and then she looked away from him, back down the hall where the last of the Copia residents entered through the double doors. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one really cares what I think about anything.”
Blair’s walkie-talkie squawked and Mick’s voice came on the line. “Ma’am...or...er...Blair do you copy?”
She turned to Grant and pointed to her chest with her index finger. “Did he just ask for me?”
Grant nodded.
“I’m here,” Blair answered a bit too eagerly.
“We have activity in a Clearance Level 1 area.”
“Could it be Private Ryley?” She tugged on Frank’s leash. Her eyes flashed with the excitement of being included in this adventure.
“Could be. I just wanted you to know. Elevator analysis says someone went to Floor B. We set the elevator shut-down sequence after that, so I have no idea where the person or persons could be now.”
“That’s the King’s and Salvant’s floor? Which pod door was triggered?” She turned to Grant and whispered, “I think he’s telling me this because he finally sees that I was right!” She gave a self-congratulatory squeal.
Mick answered swiftly, “Pod 6, Ma’am.”
“Can you check it out?” Blair asked. She gave a small jump and pushed a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.
“Ms. Truman, ma’am, we’re all set here. All residents of Copia are accounted for in the Center. We’re on time for our operation.”
As if on cue, Grant could hear the Huck video starting down the hall. His big booming voice greeted the Copia residents through the giant speakers. He was thanking them for their patience, and reminding them that they were the most important members of this world.
“But...if it was Ryley,” Blair said to Mick. She was pouting, her lower lip jutting out. Grant now realized that Ryley’s act of kindness in the morning had stirred something larger in Blair. Her worry for him was bred from misplaced loyalty, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“We don’t have an extra person to supply you for checking it out. But if you want to look yourself, Ma’am, we have ten minutes before evacuation.”
Blair turned to Grant and raised her eyebrows.
“Should I go?” she asked.
Grant stammered. Why was she asking him? Huck droned on in the background. The Copia residents cheered and clapped for something they had seen on the screen. “Sure, I mean, if it’s important to you?” he said. “I should probably get into the Center anyway...hear what Huck has to say...”
“Oh,” she said. “Ummm...maybe...” Blair looked conflicted, but Grant felt anxious to get into the large gymnasium and hear about his future home. “Maybe just stay here with Frank until I get back?” she asked.
“I guess—”
But she was already skipping down the hallway when she answered Mick back. “I’ll go to Pod 6. I’ll take my dad’s direct elevator. Turn back on the power and I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Copy that.”
Grant took a short walk down the hall and dragged Frank with him. He stood next to the corner, close enough to hear the video drone on.
“We have appreciated your contributions to our world...”
Grant smirked. He had contributed nothing to this world. The people watching that video had given money and years of their lives to a cause that ended the world. The only thing Grant had done was get lucky enough to survive. Somehow he felt like he kept cheating the system.
The video was wrapping up. “For us, those who are going to live the next five hundred or more years on the Islands, we will look to you – the Copia – as a tale worth telling. You are worth more than you know.”
Grant felt Frank tug at the leash toward the Center, but Grant pulled him back. Undeterred, Frank barked once and then again.
“Shut up, Frank,” Grant mumbled toward the dog, giving him a g
entle tap on the head.
Down the hall, Grant saw Nate look his way. He stared at Grant and then lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth, still keeping Grant in his line of sight. Behind him, the other guards moved quickly to shut the doors to the Center, and his heart began to pound. Jorge and one of the other guards brought big boxes out from a room down the hallway. They were metal and hooked to them were long floppy plastic tubes. Working fast, the men tucked the tubes under the door to the Center and then flipped a switch.
The boxes hummed and churned.
Grant pulled Frank tighter and took a step toward the men.
Nate lifted his gun in Grant’s direction.
From behind him, Jorge shouted, “All six boxes in place. The ones behind the screen are going, the ones from the theater room are operational.”
“Can anyone see what’s happening?” someone shouted.
Inside the secluded room, Grant could start to piece together the sounds of panic. Voices rose and fell in worry and alarm; a woman’s scream, a man’s yell, the sound of traveling feet across the gym floor.
“What’s happening?” Grant called to Dylan, who had taken his place several feet back from the closed metal doors of the Center, his weapon raised.
Now he could hear coughing. A thin film of vapor seeped out beneath the doors and disappeared. Someone hit the doors with full force and they bulged, but didn’t open.
“Prepare for breach!” Dylan shouted.
Huck’s video played on. His voice seeped underneath the new sounds of horror. “You must understand your role. And understand that I realize you will not have seen this sea change coming. But it is imperative to the success of my Islands. Only a true tempest will refine us. I bid you a fond farewell. Please know, in your final moments here, that your memories will not be forsaken.” The video turned to static as some women shrieked in shrill trills. Frank growled and then barked, yanking on the leash and crying out wildly—his cries mingling in with the cries of the people.
Nate stalked forward, his gun on Grant. And Grant backed up.
“What’s happening?” Grant asked in a whisper. He was out in the hallway, taking wide steps behind him without looking where he was going. A cold sweat dripped down his neck. “What’s happening?” he asked again, louder.
Nate shook his head. “Grant...I’m sorry...”
“No,” Grant breathed.
Copia.
It didn’t exist. It had never existed. It was a lie fed to people unworthy enough to travel to the next world. He wanted to let go of Frank’s leash and run, but he couldn’t. Still his feet carried him backward as Nate followed him.
“All those people—”
“Just our orders, Grant,” Nate said. “We liked you, kid. You have to believe me.”
Grant raised a hand to his neck and tugged on Salem’s crucifix. He held on to it and started to pray.
“Help me, help me, help me,” Grant said. “Mother Mary and Lord Jesus, dear God, no, no—”
A rise and fall of screams echoed down the hall, but Nate didn’t flinch.
“Oh my Jesus,” Grant whispered. He closed his eyes. “Forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in most need of the mercy.”
Blair’s screams through the radio seemed to blend in, and Grant almost didn’t notice that she was back on. When Nate finally realized that it was Blair and not the Copia residents, he grabbed the radio and pressed it to his ear with one hand while keeping his gun on Grant.
“Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?”
Grant kept moving backward.
Nate looked confused and tentative.
“Sorry, Blair....can’t really discuss now...in the middle...” Mick answered her in spurts. There was now gunfire near the movie theater exit. People had managed to attempt an escape. Grant took another step back and realized that he had trapped himself up against the elevator doors at the end of the hall. He could feel that his cheeks were wet, even though he hadn’t been aware that he was crying.
“Can you confirm we are all accounted for?” Blair screamed. He could hear her muffled voice. “Confirm! Confirm!”
“I can confirm. All Copia. All guards. Grant. And your damn dog. Get up here, Blair.” Mick sounded angry and stern, panicked. The gas still poured into the Center, the guards looked at their watches. The deaths had only just begun. “Five minutes.”
“Then we have intruders. I repeat. I repeat. We have intruders. Private Ryley’s been shot and we are not alone down here!” Blair screamed. “I’m coming back up. I’m coming back up!”
In his own flustered panic, Grant hit the elevator button with his elbow. Nate’s attention was drawn away for a second down the hall, and Grant eyed the gun. He imagined himself attempting to pry the gun free. It was an act of pure bravado that he thought he might be physically capable of; if he could distract Nate for just a second, he could launch himself. Maybe buy some time.
But it was futile. Nate’s orders were to kill him. If he failed, there was an entire hallway of armed men ready to pick up where he left off.
Grant knew that the direct elevator was at the end of the hallway. He willed Blair to run faster. Maybe she would intercede for him. Maybe she didn’t know about the orders to kill him. He realized that Blair might be his only hope.
Nate tucked the walkie back into his uniform pocket and leveled the gun again. Grant closed his eyes. Then from down the hall, Grant could hear Blair running. No one else was wearing heels. He snapped his eyes opened and watched her approach. Her face was white and ashen, and her shirt untucked. Grant noticed that the tips of the pumps were covered in blood.
Twenty feet away. Fifteen feet away.
“Blair!” Grant called to her, but his voice caught.
“Frank!” she shouted. “I need Frank!”
Nate looked down at the ground and then up at Grant. “It’s time.” He leaned in and grabbed Grant’s shirt collar and began to pull him away from the elevator doors. Grant heard a tiny pop and felt Salem’s necklace snap loose—the chain had broken in the scuffle. With all his energy, Grant tried to duck out of Nate’s grip. The crucifix fell to the floor.
The elevator gave a tiny peal.
An announcement of arrival.
There were more gunshots in the background. More screams.
Nate bristled and stared at the metal doors. They started to open and Nate let go of Grant and swung his gun in the direction of the elevator doors, and then back to Grant’s head.
The doors of the elevator opened fully and Grant could tell by the look on Nate’s face that there was someone in there. Taking his chance, he ducked down, and grabbed tightly on to Frank and waiting for the blast to kill him.
A gunshot rang out. Nate crumpled to the ground, his gun clattered to the tiled floor. The would-be-assassin held on to his leg and blood began to seep through his uniform.
“I need backup!” he yelled down the hall. Dylan and Jorge turned their heads. “Intruders! Alert!”
Blair screamed wildly and scrambled back to the far wall. She tumbled to the ground and kicked herself as far away from the elevator doors as she could. Nate reached out to her, his hands covered in blood.
“Get my gun, Blair! Dammit! The gun!”
Grant was faster. He scrambled forward and locked his hands around the barrel, and then turned to the open elevator. He didn’t know who he was supposed to shoot—the intruders or the people trying to kill him. Another shot rang out and Grant braced for the impact, but Nate tumbled over again, a hole gaping in his uniform just above his bicep.
Blair’s screams of terror, Nate’s screams of pain, and the march of footsteps running to their aid operated in the background as Grant realized he knew the people in that elevator.
They were calling, motioning, but all he could hear was Blair, Nate, the footsteps, the dog barking, his ears ringing. His eyes adjusted. He could see them clearly.
&n
bsp; It was Darla he recognized first.
She was gaunter than he remembered, but it was absolutely Darla; covered in blood, she held a gun pointed at Nate’s head and she screamed for Grant to climb into the elevator with them. Her screams barely registered above the other din and Grant felt sluggish in his response to her. Was this real? Was he already dead? He obliged and crawled on all fours away from the chaos as Darla pushed the button.
Behind her he saw the familiar face that looked so much like his own. A face that surfaced in dreams, but had seemed fuzzy in recent weeks—as if his entire family was just a series of old movies playing inside his brain.
“Dad?” Grant whispered. Time seemed to stand still. He collapsed on the floor and looked upward. He must be dead. Nate had shot him in the head and he was dying on the floor of the System. His dad and Darla were there to escort him to the afterlife. “Dad?” he asked again.
Frank barked. The bark pulled Grant back toward reality. He had never let go of the leash and the dog had followed him into the elevator as an unwilling partner; he barked at his owner, who was still screaming outside in the hallway, and he licked at Grant’s head. Darla looked at the dog and then Nate and discharged her weapon once again, this time hitting the wall behind the guard’s head.
The other guards were getting closer. Blair scrambled toward them on all fours. Her feet slipped on the blood.
His dad.
His dad was here.
“No!” Blair screamed. Her primal cries rang out as she propelled herself off the floor and into the elevator. She reached for Frank’s leash. Her legs passed over the threshold just in time for the doors to collapse behind her; the elevator began moving upward and away from the men below. Cuddling her dog close, she pushed herself into the corner and looked up at Dean and Darla with wide, wild eyes.
A walkie-talkie crackled.
Blair wasn’t holding hers anymore and Grant realized that his dad was holding one to his ear.
“Mick! Advise! Advise! Two intruders and Grant and Blair are making their way from elevator one to the outside lift. Do we fire?”
“Yes, dammit!” Mick answered.
“But...Blair...”
“If they get to the surface, we give them all the advantage. Do what you need to do. Take them all out, you hear me?”
The Variables (Virulent Book 3) Page 29
