Liam went on and on about Chelle … and Ana wished she hadn’t asked. She tried not to feel hurt, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about her. Over the past few months, Ana had felt Liam giving her many of the same looks he had described giving to Chelle, but how much was in her mind and how much was true? She wondered if he would sacrifice everything for her as he had for Chelle.
But in a way, he already had. He’d thrown himself into The Games in order to “make things right” and protect her as long as possible. So he had paid his penance, she figured. But did he do it out of obligation to her father, or because he truly felt something for her?
She supposed it no longer mattered.
Her life was over. It might happen in a few days, or even as she slept. Borrowed time meant nothing mattered, and love probably even less.
They stopped under a large tree, with huge drooping branches that looked like tentacles, ten feet from a cave. Before Liam could speak, Ana said, “Thanks, Liam. For everything. I know how lucky I am to have you.”
Ana was sure his cheeks filled with color she couldn’t quite see in the almost dark. He said, “Don’t worry about it, Ana. It’s the least I can do … after everything.” He pointed to the cave’s open mouth and nodded at the tree. “Any preference between getting trapped in a cold, dark cave with only one exit, or up in a tree with nowhere to go if danger finds us below?”
Ana found her evening’s first laugh. The scant cackle left her lips as a whisper. “I guess the tree,” she said.
Liam smiled, climbed onto the first branch, then pulled Ana up gently beside him. Despite his intentions, it felt as if her skin were ripping beneath the bandage. She cried out as he reached down beneath her armpits, and pulled her up the rest of the way. She couldn’t help but notice his hands brushing over her breasts, but neither of them acknowledged such as she shifted onto the branch beside him.
After a few moments, she found the words, “What happens if I—”
“Turn?” he said.
“Yeah, I don’t want to turn into one of those things, and kill you in the middle of the night.”
“You won’t,” he said.
“How can you say that? You don’t know that I won’t turn, just like Duncan.”
“I know,” he said, his jaw set as if it were simply a fact that could not, should not, be disputed.
“Please,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Promise me that if you see me turning, kill me before it takes over.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, turning away.
She grabbed his chin, forced him to meet her eyes, “Please, she said. Don’t let me become …”
Thinking of what Duncan had become made her cry.
He hugged her, tight, and her tears began to flow for not just Duncan, but for everything: Adam, her father, her mother, and, of course, her looming death.
He stroked her hair. “I promise,” he whispered into her ear.
She couldn’t tell for certain, but she thought he might be crying too.
CHAPTER 12 — JONAH LOVECRAFT
Jonah was surprised to find himself intoxicated by the brunette Sutherland had introduced him to. He was exhausted, and wanted to bathe, then sleep in a warm bed more than he’d wanted sex.
The brunette—whose name he had unfortunately forgotten the moment it was given to him, lost in the daze of the events that had resulted in this introduction in the first place—led him to a shower, where she joined him, and then to a dark room with a large bed. She fed him with food and words and warmth. It had been such a long time since he’d been with a woman, and the sex was over embarrassingly fast. Afterward, when Jonah had expected to be alone, the brunette asked if she could stay. She lay against his chest, seeming to enjoy the second part more than she had the first. Truth was, Jonah did too. Just to be with someone, after being alone for so long.
Just as Jonah was drifting off, he heard a loud knock.
Of course.
He extricated himself from the sleeping woman, padded quietly across the room, and opened the door to a tall boy with a shock of freckles neatly divided between his cheeks. The boy stepped through Jonah’s open door and announced that it was time to eat, even though the brunette had fed him, and quite well. He told this to the freckled boy a few times, the last time the loudest, stirring the woman sprawled in his bed. But the kid was insistent, so Jonah followed him out into the hall, then back to the dining hall for another large meal, this one entirely liquid—greens, sugars, proteins—and much better tasting than Jonah expected. After he finished drinking his meal, he was again led to Sutherland.
The man took forever to find his point. Jonah interrupted, “So what do you want with me?”
Sutherland laughed. “I told you, Jonah. I need your help getting Dr. Goelle here to Hydrangea.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain my other question: Why me?”
“Because you’re the only person she’ll listen to. And we want her to come willingly. It’s no use to coerce her.”
“Like you’re doing to me?”
“Apples to oranges, Jonah. I’m only being honest with you, as I believe you’re a man who respects forthrightness. We need Goelle’s cooperation to seize control of City 1.”
“How’s she going to help you with that?” Jonah asked.
“I’ve told you enough to make up your mind, Jonah. I’m not revealing all of our plans. I can’t. Suffice it to say, we’re going to war with the leaders of The State. With Geralt. The world’s not what it once was, and not just because of the zombies. In the old nation, power was divided, rather than broadcast from a single city, or one man’s will, for that matter. Our world now, it isn’t for the people, it’s only for those in power. We barely have a nation, Jonah, and what we do have was born behind locked doors. It doesn’t have to be like this. We can strike back. The world can reclaim what’s been stolen.”
Jonah was again reminded of a feeling he had upon first meeting Sutherland: this wasn’t The Underground; this was something else.
The Underground focused on getting people out of City 6 and away from the lie. Talk of revolution was broad, mostly because no one dared believe that The State could be defeated. Jonah squirmed, hating that doubt as it twitched his muscles. But he also wasn’t sure that doubt was wrong.
“That’s a big fight,” he finally said.
“The biggest,” Sutherland agreed. “And absolutely worth fighting. In the Old Nation, back when they were still celebrating a new constitution, a revolutionary named Samuel Adams said: ‘If ever a time should come, when vain and aspiring men shall possess the highest seats in Government, our country will stand in need of its experienced patriots to prevent its ruin.’ We must prevent its ruin, Jonah. Right now, we’re the patriots, and we need your help to be part of something bigger than any of us.”
Jonah didn’t buy it, especially not any part that saw him waltzing into City 6 and talking Liza into coming with him, then somehow getting back out without being spotted.
“I don’t know what in the hell makes you think I can get behind The Walls—I tried already, and there were more City Watchers and orbs than I thought possible.
He held up his hand, anticipating Sutherland’s protest. “But let’s say I do, against all odds. I find Liza and talk her into joining me on some secret mission I can’t even explain. How the hell do you think we’ll get out of the City?”
Jonah looked at Sutherland. He couldn’t help think the redheaded man was delusional. Sutherland’s eyes twinkled.
“You worry too much, Jonah. You get Liza; I’ll tend to the rest. Much of what you’re about to see has been in play for a while, the stage dressed for years.”
Even if Jonah bought it—and he wasn’t sure he did, but he could put that aside for the moment—he still didn’t like it.
“Why bat at the hornet’s nest?” he asked. “The cities are networked and well-armed. We don’t stand a chance. And if The State’s provoked, it will retaliate. Right
now, all these camps and villages are left relatively alone, but that’s only because you’re not proving yourselves worth stopping, even with the occasional attacks or hampering The Games. The minute—no, the second—you’re a threat to the cities themselves, The State will slam its heel on The Barrens like a blanket crawling with ants.”
Sutherland looked at Jonah as if he felt sorry for him, eyes sad and brow knit. He clapped large hands on his strong thighs and said, “You’re right, and it doesn’t matter at all.”
His words startled Jonah.
Sutherland stared so intensely that Jonah felt the man’s hot eyes burning through him.
“Why do you wake up, Jonah?”
“What … what do you mean?”
“Each morning, you decide to rise. Why?”
“Because I want to live.”
“That reason has no blood, Jonah. Why do you rise?”
“I don’t know,” he thought, hating Sutherland for making him feel what he already knew: he had nothing to live for.
Except Anastasia.
Very quietly, he said, “I wake for Anastasia. To find her.”
“You wake for Anastasia,” Sutherland repeated, not mocking Jonah at all. His expression was thoughtful and kind, as if he were trying to understand his companion. “A worthy reason. Before that, I imagine your purpose was your entire family, yes? And duty?”
Jonah nodded, waiting for Sutherland’s point, knowing it would sting.
“Those are all perfectly valid reasons to get up: family, duty, even love. None of that matters to me. I rise for freedom, Jonah. Freedom is my Anastasia, my family, my duty before that. I want to reclaim what has been pillaged from us. Too many live from first breath to last in surrender, or trade freedom for safety and leave themselves worthy of neither. In this world, the most courageous thing people can do is think for themselves. Even braver are those that do it out loud. In this world, thought is crime. This isn’t acceptable, Jonah, yet we live as if we’ve forgotten this truth. The world is asleep, however big it might be, but I am awake, and wish to rouse as many sleeping souls as I can.
“I want to give everyone a reason to rise.”
Jonah could clearly see Sutherland’s danger, for it was the same danger The State saw from Weaver. He was a fanatic, and while the message sounded good, it also sounded irrational. It was a dream, but one in which Jonah could barely find a spark of reality.
He didn’t want to get involved, couldn’t get involved. Any battle destined to lose wasn’t worth fighting. He’d seen it firsthand, as a member of The Underground—they worked tirelessly, just to get people on the other side of The Walls. A coordinated attack against City 1 seemed about as likely as Jonah curing the plague.
Yet, Jonah didn’t want to refuse, because as crazy as it sounded, something inside him wanted to touch the hope he saw in Sutherland’s goals. It was just so tempting. And even if he didn’t want to get involved, the man sitting before him did seem to care about what happened to Jonah, and that couldn’t be dismissed. He had sent someone to bring him in, had given him food and clothing and companionship, and he had sent for his daughter. If nothing else, Jonah couldn’t upset him before her arrival. So instead he simply said, “You’ve given me much to think about.”
“Bullshit!” Sutherland thundered, seeing right through him. “You’re letting fear scream in your ear, Jonah. Ignore it, or better yet, lean into it: expose your terrors, absorb them, strip their power until they’re nothing. Then you will be free to do as you wish forever. Free to change the world.”
“The world is too dead to change.”
Sutherland spun on Jonah, as if his indifference had finally pushed him too far. Teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, and expression almost somber, he said, “We can change the world, Jonah. Even if we can’t, we can change ourselves. We can be the free ones—birds through life’s sky, serene above the atrocity. The secret, Jonah—and this is the treasure of thought that Jack Geralt and The State in their insidious natures dare to hide from its people above all else—is that freedom is contagious. When one brother feels that swell inside him, he cannot help but trumpet it to others. Freedom is an infection The State cannot inoculate, or afford to see spread. There are two diseases The State fears, and The Walls are as much to keep the keep the zombies out as they are to keep the people in. You, Jonah, are our contagion. You must go behind The Walls and let freedom spread.”
“But don’t you understand?” Jonah asked. He thought himself repugnant for refusing to believe, but just wasn’t ready to accept Sutherland’s dream just yet. “The State sees you as scavenging rats and nothing more. You don’t go after a few rats that aren’t really causing you any problems, especially outside the house. You’re out here, harming no one but yourselves through too much delusion. Bring the fight to them, they’ll crush you where you crawl and turn The Barrens to ash.”
Again, Sutherland dismissed Jonah with laughter. “If they could turn us to ash, Jonah, they already would have. They do what they can—last winter they destroyed West Village, the largest of the organized villages outside City 6. Tore open the gates and killed every man, woman, and child unable to flee. They covered the village in blood, burned corpses, and littered the front gate with charred bodies and heads on pikes. Before leaving, they painted their filthy logo in blood on the gate. Is that the cities leaving us alone, Jonah? No,” he said, not waiting for an answer, “it wasn’t. The State must pay for what they did to West Village if nothing else. They must be stopped so they can never do it again.”
That hope he had felt at the beginning of this conversation, that tiny something deep down, stirred more violently inside Jonah. He wanted to say yes, wanted to agree, and for a shocking second he realized that the part of him that had spent winter near starving was itching to fight.
But not before he was stronger.
And not before he saw Ana.
Jonah couldn’t agree to anything until there was firmer ground beneath him, and that meant knowing that Ana was safe. Sutherland seemed to be reading his thoughts.
“You are right to a degree: you have much to think on, Jonah.” He smiled. “Take a little time. We’ve waited this long; fate now favors our patience. I’m not asking for a yes; I’m asking you to think.”
Without pause, Jonah surprised himself. “Of course I’ll think about it,” he said.
Jonah’s response drew him closer than ever to seeing Ana. It dawned on him, though, to wonder if she’d want to see him. He also wondered if she still blamed him for her mother’s murder, and if she blamed him for being thrown to The Darwins.
He couldn’t wait to see Ana even though he wasn’t sure how she could forgive him … especially when he couldn’t forgive himself.
CHAPTER 13 — ADAM LOVECRAFT
Adam had been sitting in Keller’s office for nearly 15 minutes, waiting for the Chief’s arrival. Adam liked that the Chief trusted him enough to leave him alone in his office. He wondered if the Chief let anyone else in here accompanied. The office had to be highly secure. That sort of trust for someone his age—barely a Cadet—was a higher privilege than Adam ever could have imagined being granted a few months earlier.
He looked at the sparse walls, papered with State accolades, photographs of Keller with officials, and a scattering of him with his son. The Chief was an ugly man, with his almost beak-like nose, and his gaunt, long face, but in a way that wasn’t scary—unless you were meeting him because you got in trouble. Adam thought Chief Keller’s ugliness made him look extra strong.
The office door opened and Keller stepped inside, smiling. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, clapping Adam’s shoulder on the way to his own chair. The Chief sat on his side of the large desk, looking across at Adam.
He appreciated how the Chief always apologized for being late, or for inconveniencing Adam in any way. No one else seemed to care about his feelings, except maybe Michael, and after their last conversation, he wondered how sincere Michael was.
“S
o, young Lovecraft, what can I do for you?”
Chief Keller was usually the one who requested Adam’s company. He would either show up as one class ended then walk him to the next before it started, or, more often, he’d send a memo asking Adam to come to his office. This time, Adam used the com Keller had given him. He was eager to start the mission the Chief promised, and thought that if he called Keller on the com, he might get taken more seriously.
“I’m ready to start spying,” Adam said.
Keller laughed. “I love what an eager young Cadet you are, Adam.” He leaned across the desk. “But would you believe me if I said you’re already doing everything you’re supposed to?”
Adam trusted the Chief, but that didn’t sound right.
“I haven’t done anything yet, other than wait for instructions,” Adam insisted. “That’s why I wanted to see you. I was hoping you could give me something to do on my mission.”
“But you’re already doing it!” Keller cried out, as if so proud of Adam he couldn’t hold his emotion. “And doing a tremendous job!”
Adam was confused. “I am?”
Keller said, “What do you think your mission is?”
“To help find the enemies among us?”
Keller smiled and slapped the desktop. “Exactly! To find the enemies among us. Now, Adam, do you think those enemies are wearing shirts with neat black lettering that says Underground Scum! across the front?”
Adam laughed. “No.”
“Of course not! That means you have to listen. Your mission, Adam—which makes it more special rather than less so, even though your eagerness to please might see things differently—is to be yourself and keep your ears open. You never know what might waft inside them. You will know what you’re supposed to hear when you do. What you must do more than anything, Adam Lovecraft, is your absolute best!”
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