Z 2135

by Wright, David W.

  The blades retracted into her gauntlets. She said, “Because now I can sleep better at night. If I leave ’em undead, I’m likely to think of them when I should be snoring. Hard enough to sleep as it is. Besides, there’s no better exercise. Killing dead when you see them keeps you ready.”

  Sleep wasn’t Jonah’s problem. Even as she got back on the horse, Jonah was dipping in and out of the blur. This happened a few times until he finally surfaced, clearer than ever. The air smelled crisp, and he could feel every prickle. His skin was tighter, his core somehow fuller. He smelled lilac, though that was impossible.

  He asked Katrina why he felt better. “Because you’re taken care of,” she said, patting her saddlebag.

  “Wait … you gave me the antidote?” he asked, not remembering drinking anything.

  Jonah thought he could sense her smiling. She said, “Yes, about an hour ago. In between your naps.”

  She fell quiet after that, almost reverential, even after Jonah soiled her silence with more questions—which she ignored. Finally he fell quiet too. They rode like that for a while until they reached sweeping acres—maybe miles—of breathtaking hydrangea.

  They stopped among the deepest eggplants and auburns, crimson on blush, cream kissing green and lavender.

  “Where’s the village?” he asked.

  The ground answered with a mechanical grinding.

  Jonah looked down—they were on a hidden platform covered in soil and grass. The horse whinnied. Katrina rubbed its neck and said, “It’s OK, girl.” She turned to Jonah. “Welcome to Hydrangea.”

  * * *

  Jonah waited in a room similar to the ones in the train station where Egan had held him last winter. It was long and narrow, with several benches lined along one wall. A table ran across the opposite wall. Jonah imagined it once was fringed with computers. But that time was gone and now there was nothing, save for stacks of books and folders of papers. Though he’d only seen a few tunnels on his way to the room, Jonah was sure they were in another abandoned train station.

  This one was in much better condition, however. Well lit and freshly painted, as if care was given to the upkeep. Jonah wondered what powered the lights.

  After waiting awhile, the door opened and Katrina walked in. He had stood up when he heard the handle turning, but now she asked Jonah to sit.

  The way she asked, and stood between him and the door, Jonah felt like Katrina was protecting whoever was entering the room. Like he might attack them.

  His heartbeat sped, and he began to suspect he’d been lied to. Ana wasn’t here after all. Katrina lied because he wouldn’t have come otherwise.

  And now he was about to meet that lie’s architect.

  The man stepped through, a 50-something-year-old with long red hair and a scruffy red beard. Though Jonah had only seen him on the Reels, he would remember him anywhere.

  A long time ago—Jonah was tempted to call it a lifetime ago—he remembered an uprising The State had brutally suppressed. Normally, such revolts fell into two categories: those led either by angry militants or by oddly charismatic cult-like leaders. Of the two, cultists were most dangerous because their followers were often fanatical.

  One of The State’s primary directives—for obvious reasons—was the early extermination of emerging cults. All were considered a threat to the general welfare. A cancer. The same sort of cancer that started the Original Plague. Public meetings, no matter what kind of nut job group was holding them, were legal. But City Watch always had spies or used the many surveillance options available to make sure seeds of dissent never sprouted too tall.

  The worst cult Jonah had ever heard of was the one that called itself The Children of The Last Light, and preached some weird mystical pseudo religious end-of-the-world nonsense.

  The group was engineered by a guy named Dennis Weaver, a cook in City 3. The man was unique looking with his long red hair and beard. In addition to being a cook, he was a church pastor who had somehow spread his message via sects in each of the cities. Weaver was the son of a minister, and claimed ancestry to Jesus. He preached peace, according to reports, but then one of his parishioners squealed to a Watcher that Weaver was stashing weapons and planning some big attack on City officials.

  City 3 Watch moved in.

  City Watch ordered the Reels to report Weaver as insane and that he was actively plotting an attack. It was a lie, but a necessary one to kill the cult before it could do any real damage. Anything to protect The State—the motto Jonah had lived for so long.

  Jonah heard that when they raided Weaver’s compound, beneath the bowels of City 3, they found an army’s worth of guns. He had rations, vouchers for food, and supplies across all tiers. Additionally, they found links to agents who had infiltrated the government. It was the largest a cult had ever grown in City Watch history, and right beneath the observant all-seeing City Watch eye.

  Weaver was executed in some of the most watched Darwins ever. Everyone knew the round was probably rigged, but nobody cared. After The Games, The State mandated harsher laws for public gatherings, and required all City Watchers to take a new class called “Birth of a Cult,” which gave historical accounts of cult leaders going back before Charles Manson, though he was the first figure they spent any time on.

  And now, standing before him, was Weaver, the cult leader he saw die in The Darwin Games.

  “Hello, Mr. Lovecraft, I’ve been dying to meet you,” Weaver said, smiling as he stepped forward and extended his hand.

  CHAPTER 5—ADAM LOVECRAFT

  City 6

  Adam Lovecraft sat in the classroom with the other Cadets, all of them watching the wall screen which showed a City Watch officer dispatching a horde of zombies. The Watcher was caught outside The Walls, alone but not off guard, because he had been a good Cadet, and had learned smart ways to stay alive no matter the odds. That was the message Adam was supposed to get from the instructional, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on the screen or his mind on the topic.

  Adam was lucky, considering all that had gone so horribly wrong. His mom had been murdered by his father, who was now sitting comfortably in City 7 as winner of The Darwins. Then his sister was put into The Games for spying, then was killed along with Liam, leaving Adam an orphan with no one to care for him. After that, he had been kicked out of Chimney Rock and arrested for defending himself.

  With so many things going against him, Adam should have been living in the Dark Quarters or dead—it still wasn’t clear which would have been worse. Hell, a few months ago, Adam was sure he’d be the next Lovecraft exiled into The Games. And any of those should have been his fate if Chief Keller hadn’t saved him.

  “Lots of people have it tough,” Keller had said, “and I’ll say you’ve got it tougher than many. But you know who else had it tough? Jack Geralt. He rose up from nothing to become a champion for the people. I see that same fire in you, Adam. A need to do what is right, no matter what.”

  Adam was surprised that anyone—outside of his family—saw anything in him. Most people thought he was dim because he was so quiet, and expected little from him. That was if they even thought of him at all.

  But Keller wasn’t like the others.

  “You remind me a lot of your father, before his troubles,” Keller had continued. “And I’ll vouch for you, if you promise to always live up to your potential and stop wallowing in personal miseries.”

  What else could Adam say?

  He agreed.

  In the months that followed, Keller taught Adam how to think positively and how to be an important citizen of City 6, putting the needs of his fellow man before himself. To Adam, the City Watch message wasn’t merely words anymore, but something truly important: “Love the State. Promote human dignity and the rights of all individuals by safeguarding the needs of the many.”

  With that sentiment firmly ingrained in him, Adam joined the City Watch Junior Advancement Plan, a program set up for “special people who demonstrate
an ability to put the needs of The State first and foremost.” Keller had compared it to being selected as a knight’s apprentice, a position of honor that Adam could grow into, if he was truly worthy of the title. He too could become City Watch, just like his father.

  In turn, Adam was taken in, nurtured, and was being made into the best version of himself thanks to the program’s constant encouragement. And since leaving Chimney Rock, Adam had gone from a nobody to a valuable part of something important—something that mattered. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged somewhere.

  Too, he derived satisfaction from daily challenges, having other Junior Citizens to share experiences with, and feeling good about Adam and what he could do for The City. Even talking to the other Junior Citizens helped him learn new things, especially about himself. City Watch gave Adam ideals to strengthen his character like 10 thousand pushups would strengthen his arms—Keller had said that. The City Watch Junior Citizen motto said the rest: “The City Is Only as Strong as Its Weakest Citizen.”

  Adam would never be a weak link again.

  And usually Adam had no problem staying upbeat and positive. But today was different.

  Today he was thinking about Ana.

  Tomorrow would have been her 18th birthday, and while he tried to bar thoughts of her from his mind whenever he felt them creeping in them—they had a way of making him unable to think about anything else—today it was impossible.

  He should be watching the screen, holding his eyes to the Top 10 Ways to Take on a Horde if You Find Yourself Without a Weapon. Adam liked the instructionals, but today’s made him think of his sister, how he would never see her again, and the horrible way that she died—overcome by zombies in the middle of the night after trying to escape The Games. Though the cameras missed filming the attack, they broadcast the grisly remains of her body being found, torn to strips that looked like boar food.

  Adam turned from the on-screen Cadet who was fighting rampaging zombies, and thought back to Ana’s 13th birthday. He had been sad, because Ana was getting all the attention. He was still little and used to getting most of it. He went into a corner and pouted, not his proudest moment.

  “I have an idea,” Ana had said, coming over to him and pulling him into a hug. “Why don’t we make it your unbirthday.”

  “What’s that?” Adam had asked, trying not to cry.

  She had laughed. “Any day except one's birthday. It’s from Alice in Wonderland, I think.”

  “Unbirthdays don’t sound very special.”

  “That’s because no one takes the time to acknowledge them. We should acknowledge yours.”

  Adam had asked how they would do that. Ana said she would show him, then turned her birthday into one of his best days ever.

  He looked back to the screen and felt bile in his mouth. He couldn’t believe how much it was affecting him. Adam blinked, then turned, hoping Jason “Smoky” Bilson didn’t notice him getting queasy.

  The Top 10 instructionals had moved on to Do Nots!

  A careless Cadet was getting his face eaten in front by one zombie while a second chewed from the back. Four claws pawed at their meal. Like all instructionals, the footage was real, taken in training. But today’s reminded Adam specifically of Liam’s final footage, when the zombies were mangling his body and fighting over his head. Adam had watched in horror, both live and during the many repeated broadcasts. It took a while to identify the body, just like Ana’s. When they finally did, Adam felt both better and worse.

  Better because at least he knew what had happened, but worse because now they were both really dead. While Adam hadn’t known Liam all that well, he was City 6, and you always mourned your own when they fell in The Games—unless the person in The Games had somehow wronged you. Then you rooted against them as hard as you could.

  Like with his dad.

  As Adam started to wallow in self-pity, he remembered something Keller had said, “Many people see the eye in the City Watch logo as a sign of oppression, that the government is always watching them. Often, those are the people with something to hide. Watchers see the eye for what it is: a beacon of hope, a sign that no matter how dark things get, there’s always someone looking out for us: our brothers on City Watch. Things will be better when we make them better, Adam. Remember that.”

  Adam felt awful for Ana and Liam, but in his heart he knew that City Watch and Keller were right. Even in his childhood, City Watch had taken care of them. Daddy was proud to be City Watch, before whatever happened did. But like Keller also said, “family can be who you choose.”

  Now Keller was Adam’s family.

  The Do Nots! finished and the screen went black. Commander Nelson went to the front, faced away from the wall screen, and lectured the virtues of victory and vigilance (the only V’s that matter!).

  Class finally ended and Adam stood. He clicked his wristlet to ping his advisor; he was finished with Survival and on his way to Combat.

  He left the room and heard “Adam,” as he stepped into the wide wooden hallway. Adam turned around to Keller’s smile.

  “I missed you yesterday. Did everything turn out fine?”

  Before Adam answered, Keller turned and started walking, expecting the boy to fall in step beside him. Adam did, like always, feeling brighter by the step.

  “Yes,” he said, four steps behind Keller, working his legs to make it three. “I hit Ruben in the throat. You were right, he defended low.”

  “Are you confident you could beat Ruben again?”

  “Yes.”

  Adam’s pause was so slight, he barely felt it. Keller heard it anyway.

  “Why aren’t you sure?”

  “Because he’s the second biggest in class. When he hits, it really hurts.”

  “Of course it hurts. It will always hurt. You don’t learn to make it not hurt, Adam. You learn to ignore it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Your father was excellent at going against larger adversaries. Remember Bear? That man would have crushed anyone but your father. Maybe you will be that powerful someday.” Keller turned without slowing. “You are him you know.”

  Keller allowed Adam to catch pace.

  “What your father did at the end was awful, Adam, and I understand why you might not be able forgive him. I don’t know if I could either, but Jonah Lovecraft wasn’t all bad. Before the unthinkable, your dad was the best. Never forget the part of your father that City Watch was proud to claim. Banish the Jonah Lovecraft who murdered your mother in cold blood, and ruined all hope for your sister. Wipe him from existence. Let’s speak only of the Jonah I knew as a friend, and the father who loved you so.”

  Keller continued, slowing ever so slightly. “Don’t let anyone get the best of you, Adam. Not ever again. Life tried that once. Never give it another shot. If your opponent is slow to guard their throat, you be fast, no matter his size. Ready, fire, aim. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  Adam thought of his friend, Michael, and how he was the opposite. He would have told Adam to tire Ruben out, if he had to fight him. Michael stressed caution, and taking the safe road. Adam preferred Keller’s way: “Always do what no one’s expecting. And strike when others are hedging.”

  They were almost to Combat—the part of their walk where Keller would say what he wanted, if there was something he had been holding back. Every once in a while there wasn’t, and Keller would walk with him from Survival to Combat simply because he wanted to, just to spend time with Adam. One time he said, “You don’t have a father and I don’t have a son, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t try to make that hurt a little less between us?”

  Adam had been trying to work out exactly what that meant since Keller said it, but he knew it felt good and that was enough.

  Now, though, Keller turned to Adam. “How would you like to go undercover?”

  He had no idea what that meant. Real City Watchers went undercover all the time. But Adam didn’t know th
ey did that in the Cadets, and had no idea what sort of mission he might get if he said yes.

  Adam also knew he had never been more excited by anything, ever.

  “I would love that!” Adam, his heart cramming extra beats into seconds.

  “OK,” Keller smiled. “I’m trusting you to do this, and I will bring you on board, even though missions are never for Cadets. I’ve not searched the archives, and don’t have access to other cities, but I think you might be the first to get one.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because no one would suspect a Cadet, especially you. They already like you because they loved your father. But as a warning, this is serious. You do understand that, right Adam?”

  “Yes.”

  “There are traitors among us. Traitors are cancer. We must excise the disease. I can count on you, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. Terrific to hear. This movement is insidious, having already claimed some of our best … it’s awful. It’s a weed. The only way to stop the problem from spreading is to yank it at the root. I had no idea how deeply the roots seeped into City Watch. Can you appreciate the danger we’re in, Adam?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it gets worse.” Keller dropped his low voice lower. “The only thing worse than a traitor is a nest of them. Can you imagine how awful that would be, to have a nest of traitors in your family?”

  Adam nodded. He said, “Yes.”

  “I think we have a nest,” Keller said, like a confession. “Will you help us squash it, Adam?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “Of course.”

  He was foolish for feeling sorry for himself just a few moments ago. Now Adam was on the verge of doing something big, something no other Cadet had ever done. He wondered if his sister—considered a traitor to The State—would be proud of him and what he was doing, or disappointed.