Z 2135

by Wright, David W.

  Katrina nodded at the armored man with a holstered blaster, but she said nothing about Liam or Ana or who they were. He nodded back and opened the door, then stood to the side and waited for them to step through.

  They continued down another hallway, passing many doors. Ana wondered how big Hydrangea was, and what secrets the many doors had hidden behind them.

  “We’re here,” Katrina said, then turned a knob on her right, not at the hallway’s end or in any way marked from the others—a door that would have been described as “one that didn’t seem special at all.”

  Beyond the door was the opposite of that.

  The room was the most extraordinary thing Ana had ever seen, filled with mostly with furniture and textiles in reds and golds, and in more shades than she could have imagined. There were plush chairs and sofas, including what looked to be a throne at the center of the room. A man stood in front of the throne, if it was indeed such a thing.

  He smiled when he saw them, and his large shoulders relaxed. He wore reddish scruff on his face and had red hair, piled onto the top of his head in a top facing bun. He was the oddest man she had ever seen, even without the guns at his chest or the sword on his back.

  Liam whispered, “He looks so familiar.”

  Ana wanted to whisper back and ask Liam to clarify, but the man said, “Ana Lovecraft and Liam Harrow. I am Sutherland. Welcome to Hydrangea.”

  He held his hands out as he approached them.

  Ana had no idea what she expected from Sutherland, but the man she met was nowhere close. Despite his heaving bulk, he broadcast more elegance than any man she had ever met. He oozed charm and manners, but not in a phony way like The Games announcer, Kirk Kirkman. Sutherland’s charm seemed genuine, and kind.

  Despite their arduous journey, disorientation, and the armored Katrina standing by Sutherland’s side as if she were his personal bodyguard, Ana felt an overwhelming sense of relief to have finally arrived.

  She was about to ask where her father was, but Sutherland distracted her when he looked down and gasped at her arm.

  “Oh my! What’s this?”

  He picked up Ana’s arm at the wrist and inspected her bandage, then looked up and caught her eyes. “Do you mind?” He gestured toward her bandage.

  Ana shook her head. “Of course not,” she said, even though she was terrified.

  She had no idea what he would do once he found out she was infected, and that she had come into camp knowing it. If he was at all like Oli, this could be bad.

  Sutherland gingerly unwrapped the bandage, allowing the dirty wrapping to fall to the ground, then peered at her wrist, furrowing his brown and scrunching his nose.

  This was the first time Ana had seen her wrist since it was bandaged. It was dark, and the bite wounds were still visible, but her skin seemed to be healing. Above her elbow, the skin looked normal, save for her most recent sunburn.

  Sutherland studied it a while, maybe a minute, before dropping her wrist and looking back at Ana, eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry my dear, about your bite. That is a tragedy. But please don’t worry. You’re in no danger of reprisals. We’ll take excellent care of you here, and make sure your final days are restful.”

  “No,” Liam said, surprising Ana with defiance in his voice. “These aren’t her last days. She’s getting better. She’s healing!”

  Sutherland arched his eyebrows, smiling in a condescending manner. Liam looked as if he wanted to punch him. “Oh? And how’s that?”

  Liam resisted violence and explained how Ana had been on the brink of death, begging him to kill her. He confessed that he was too much of coward, which hit Ana with a hard wave of sadness.

  After rehashing the ordeal, Liam turned to Ana. “Did I get it all right?”

  She nodded.

  Sutherland looked … interested.

  “Fascinating,” he said. “This could be truly excellent news, and as these things go, remarkable timing. We’re working on what we hope could be a cure to the virus that causes the zombie infection. We’ll have Dr. Oswald and Dr. Liza take a look. Come on, we may as well go meet them now. Katrina, please lead our new friends to the lab. I’d like to talk on the way.”

  Sutherland sounded so happy, Ana could picture him jumping up in the air and clicking his heels. She was excited about the cure, but more excited to see her father. She wanted to go to the lab, and wanted to meet Drs. Oswald and Liza, whoever they were, but she wanted to see her dad more.

  “Where’s my father?” Ana asked, forcing the question out, even though she felt pushy doing so.

  Katrina left the room of reds and golds, and walked out into the hallway. They followed.

  Sutherland said, “Oh, your father will be here soon. He’s on assignment right now.”

  “On assignment,” Liam said, his voice sharper than Ana cared for. Liam didn’t always have to treat everyone as an enemy, particularly when Sutherland was being so kind. “Doing what?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential, but I can promise you’ll be proud, especially you, Ana.” Sutherland beamed. “Jonah Lovecraft is doing things to change the world, making history as we speak. Even so, he can’t wait to see you. The man lives for nothing else. We’ll have a celebration when he gets back. There’s so much to be happy about.”

  It was hard to believe Sutherland’s message, and of course Liam still seemed skeptical. But Ana felt good. She didn’t know if it was because her life seemed to have been spared from Duncan’s fate, at least temporarily, or because they were finally below The Barrens and somewhere safe, but she didn’t mind that her father wasn’t there.

  Ana was confident she would see him in time. Perhaps the delay was best. She still wasn’t sure how she could look him in the eyes after being the one to testify and send him to jail. She hadn’t yet known the evils of City Watch, or that they had messed with her memories.

  Ana hoped her father could forgive her.

  CHAPTER 43 — JONAH LOVECRAFT

  Jonah felt uneasy, being passed from person to person—from Captain Pete to Maya, and now to the mystery man leading him away from the market and down a fairy-tale path that cut through a swath of perfectly manicured trees on either side.

  “Why all the shadows?”

  The man turned to Jonah and smiled. His features were almost effeminate, sharp and small, but his walk was brusque and masculine—perfectly controlled. He looked around.

  “I see few shadows, Mr. Lovecraft. So I’m assuming you’re referring to a pilot who likely left you outside, a driver who must have brought you in, and now me tending to your custody?” He smiled politely, waiting for a response.

  Jonah patted his hand on the medical bag’s side. “I was supposed to deliver this and then leave. But now I’m with my third escort. Can’t you just take it and I’ll be on my way?”

  Jonah thrust the bag out toward the man, almost violently. “Take it,” he repeated, his voice insistent.

  The man inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, smiled at Jonah in a way that made him think the man knew one million things that he didn’t, then turned and started walking away. Jonah had no choice but to follow.

  When he caught up after a hundred or so strides, the man laughed loudly, like Maya had as she rolled down her window. After catching his breath from the artificial guffaw he whispered, “Don’t do anything aggressive again. People are watching. You endanger yourself by existing, and are a danger to me by proximity. I’m willing to help, but won’t die by your lack of care.”

  The man broke from the whisper long enough to issue a louder laugh, then continued. “We have orders and protocol. One loose thread can rip a stitch and ruin the seam. I’m sure you know what happens to the garment after that. Orders and protocol, Mr. Lovecraft, make for stronger thread and tighter stitching.”

  The man laughed again, even though there was no one around, then led Jonah the remainder of the way down the path, past a group of happy children skipping rope and then a group of chatting peopl
e on a picnic, and down to a wide road, freshly paved and at least three times wider than the single vehicle streets inside City 6.

  They approached a corner with a lamppost, taller than any Jonah had ever seen. Instead of a light, it held a rectangular computer display. He wondered if it spilled light in the dark. In the daylight the display poured bits of information into a wide grid of letters and numbers that Jonah couldn’t make out from where they were walking, though the image did seem to sharpen by the step. Behind the grid, as if the lamppost were broadcasting specifically for it, was the most beautiful vehicle Jonah could possibly imagine. It wasn’t like any car or truck he’d ever seen in person. It was something else, with the shiniest black paint Jonah had ever seen. The vehicle’s body was wide and sloped in front, rolling forward like the frame was embracing the wheels. The back flared like a woman displaying her backside. City 6 vehicles—all sizes—were metal boxes dropped onto wheels. This vehicle looked like a sculpture in the City Museum, or one of the cars he’d seen from the Old Nation movies and pictures.

  As they neared the grid, Jonah could see that it was displaying maps, weather, and streaming news with blinking dots and multicolored lines.

  They reached the black vehicle, which looked even more beautiful up close. The vehicle’s door opened. The man beside Jonah turned and pointed inside. “Get in. They’re waiting for you.”

  “Why? Why can’t you take it? Why do I have to go with one more person?” He looked nervously back at the car, unable to swallow his fright, holding the bag out for the man again, pressing his luck. “I don’t like it.”

  “Everything will be fine, Mr. Lovecraft. I can’t promise you one more stop, rules and protocols and such, but I can’t imagine you would have more than that, and even if you do, I’m sure it will all be over very soon. Step in the car, close the door, and smile, knowing your duty’s been done.”

  The man smiled like he was selling something, then turned and left Jonah alone, staring at the beautiful car. Like climbing inside a coffin, he got in and closed the heavy door behind him.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lovecraft,” said a man beside him. The driver was tall, skinny, and young looking, beautiful like everyone else. He looked happy from the inside, like nothing could bother him.

  City 1 was supposed to be filled with monsters, responsible for the world’s misery, but everyone here looked like they wouldn’t (and maybe couldn’t) hurt a fly. But Jonah knew that wasn’t true, and that made the omnipresent danger scream louder, and the truth that he had no weapons or way to defend himself sit heavy like old food inside him.

  “Good to meet you,” Jonah smiled and patted the bag. “Do I give you this?”

  The man laughed. “No, that won’t be necessary. But I’ll get you where you need to go, and hardly take a minute of your time on the way. Well, eight and a quarter minutes to be precise. Ready?”

  “Yes,” Jonah said.

  The vehicle hummed into motion, and Jonah realized the driver wasn’t a driver. He sat where the driver normally would, but the vehicle did all the work, keeping pace behind the road’s only other vehicle as they drove from one gorgeous scene into another. Woods surrendered to the beach Jonah had spied from the glider. About a minute after Jonah saw water—at what he figured was eight and a quarter minutes after they started—the car hummed to a stop in front of something Jonah had seen only in old movies: an actual house.

  The richest people in City 6 lived in the higher apartments. Houses didn’t exist. Certainly not anything like what Jonah was staring at. The home was gargantuan, the size of an entire apartment building, but a single sprawling structure, rather than a behemoth chopped into 64 boxes per floor. Some of the home’s windows looked four stories high; the columns in front were the same size as those at The Capital.

  “I suppose you leave me here, and I go in there, right?”

  The driver who had done no driving laughed. “Nope, we’re going in together.”

  The man got out of the vehicle. Jonah followed, stepping out onto bright white concrete as a medium-sized wave pounded the shore.

  “Follow me,” the man said, still impossibly cheery.

  He led Jonah through the front doors into what could only be described as a palace. The ceilings were higher than the tall windows, and the staircase was like nothing Jonah had ever seen. Stairs in City 6 were always metal and mostly rusty, unless you were in one of the newer buildings. The higher apartments were painted routinely, so they didn’t look as shabby through the window. The City 1 stairs (at least in this house) were made of some sort of polished stone, rising to meet the second floor with a strip of carpet up the middle, so bright white it was like daring dirt to try and sully it, same as the home’s walls and ceilings. Color in the room came from ample splashes of art that hung on the walls and accentuated the angular furniture, all of it gorgeous and unusual.

  They passed the stairs and stepped into a large library on the right. “Now, I leave you,” the man said as he opened the door for Jonah.

  As he stepped through, the driver bowed his head and said, “Thank you Mr. Lovecraft, for your service,” then ducked out of the way.

  As the door closed behind Jonah, a man who had been standing with his back to the door turned and smiled. He was old, ancient even, and looked somehow rich enough to pay for the opulence around him.

  “Ah, Jonah Lovecraft,” the man said, sounding relieved. “I’ve been waiting forever to meet you.”

  CHAPTER 44 — ADAM LOVECRAFT

  Adam clutched the pad tightly to his chest and stepped out from the bathroom, gritting his teeth to keep from slamming the door behind him. Again, Adam wished he were allowed to carry a shock stick.

  “What the hell is this?” he yelled at Michael.

  Michael jumped like the couch was on fire, then shoved Adam, hard but not violently, back through the doorway and into the bathroom. “I told you not say shit in front of the cameras,” he whispered as he slammed the door. Louder, he said, “What do you mean you clogged the toilet?” and then, a moment later, added, “Oh, man, help me fix this before it floods the place!” to buy them a bit of time in the bathroom, away from the camera’s constant gaze.

  Michael had sweat on his brow, and his cheeks had gone pale. His breath was hot and fast. “You can’t do that. You have to take me seriously. I said it isn’t safe in front of the TV.”

  “I don’t care,” Adam said. “You didn’t have to trick me. Why didn’t you just tell me what I was going to see? Why did you have to show me like that? What was that, and when is it from? How did you get it?”

  “It’s new video,” Michael said. “Taken the other night. One of our guys intercepted a transmission that came from The Barrens. We’re not sure who sent it, other than an orb, or who the recipient was.”

  Adam wasn’t sure whether he felt happy or scared.

  “So Ana’s alive? Do you know what happened after the video ended? Did she make it off the roof? Have you heard anything else? At all?”

  Adam’s questions tumbled from his mouth like one rock pushing the next down a mountain. He had plenty more, but Michael stopped him.

  “Calm down, Adam. I’ll tell you everything I know, but only if you promise to listen. And trust me. Can you do that, at least for a while?”

  “How can I trust you if you wouldn’t even tell me what I was going to see?”

  “I told you, I couldn’t. That’s part of trusting me, Adam. I know it’s hard to sometimes tell the difference between right and wrong, especially when everything you’ve been taught is upside down, but that’s the first step. Before anything else. Without your confidence we’ve nowhere to go. So do I have it, or not?”

  Adam said nothing.

  Michael assumed consent.

  “We don’t know anything more than what you’ve seen on that video, but that in itself is a lot. The Underground has its eyes and ears waiting for more transmissions. If Ana’s alive, we’ll know soon—hopefully where she is as well.”

&
nbsp; It was too much to believe, Adam had just started trying and it already hurt.

  He thought of City Watch, and how they were taught that evidence is subjective. Sometimes people didn’t know what they knew, and part of a Watcher’s job was to help them remember.

  “Who can I talk to?” Adam asked. “Can I talk to the people who found this transmission? I want to know everything they do.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Michael said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. Even if you could, it wouldn’t make a difference. I told you, there’s nothing to say right now. That video was it. All you can do is keep your eyes open, and understand that your world is different than what you think. You’re lied to every day. The Academy, City Watch, The State—they all profit when you’re in the dark. I keep trying to tell you, keep trying to show you, but you refuse to see.”

  Adam said nothing.

  Michael continued, “Can you see it now? Can you see the truth? They lied about Ana dying. How many other things have they lied to you about?”

  “How?” Adam asked. “How could they lie about Ana dying? And why? You saw it same as me, she and Liam were dead!”

  “No,” Michael said. “They showed mangled remains. That could have been anyone, it could have been anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They make flix, why couldn’t they make news footage? What’s the difference? How would we ever know? How many movies have you seen that take place in The Barrens?”

  Adam shrugged. “A lot.”

  “Exactly. So they shoot that stuff somewhere; it’s not live. They could have easily staged Ana’s and Liam’s deaths.”

  “But why lie about that? Who benefits? The Network? The State?”

  “The Network is The State, and who knows. Maybe it’s closure so one question—Where is Ana Lovecraft?—doesn’t lead to too many others. Or maybe just another message letting citizens know not to fuck with The State. They don’t want people in the cities to see that Ana and Liam escaped The Games, right? Why give people hope?”