by B. C. Tweedt
Greyson peeked out the window at the wavering cones of light the streetlamps projected onto the lonely boulevard. It was almost romantic, with the diagonal snow moving across the log building’s façade. The banner “Where Everyone’s an Adventurer” flapped down the street above the statue of two grazing moose. Greyson smiled at the bronze statues. The best part about them was that they didn’t move.
“Anyone?” Windsor asked Greyson from his spot on the carpet.
Greyson turned from the cold window to the daycare’s playroom, where Drake’s squad was spread about with a dozen kids relishing each moment with them. “Nope. Just metal moose.”
Grimes sneered as he helped a young boy pull apart a toy tractor. “Moose would not make practical drones – at least not the bulls. Their racks are way too large.”
“Dude!” Windsor snorted, leading to Drake’s chastisement.
“Up to 40 pounds,” Grimes added under his breath.
The boys snickered and Ankeny glared.
“Well, I think mooses would be cute drones,” Beep said from a loveseat where three girls were cuddling next to her as she read from Curious George.
“It’s moose,” Asher corrected as he drew next to Windsor. “The word is the same plural and singular.”
“Oh, yeah! Shot down by a kid!” Windsor celebrated.
“Well, at least he’s cute,” Beep said with a wink.
Asher blushed, but kept drawing as Windsor looked on.
“Don’t get a big head, though,” Windsor warned. “She has a weird kind of idea of cute. She called a rhino death-drone cute, too.”
“Really? Cool! You guys saw a rhino death-drone? I’m gonna draw one!”
Greyson shot Windsor a look along with Drake. “Windsor…”
They were supposed to be watching the kids, keeping them from worrying about the election results as the adults watched from the Convention Center. Protecting the kids included protecting their minds.
Windsor shrunk in forced shame. “Oops. Let’s draw something else.”
Asher pouted until another idea popped to mind. “A moose drone…of death!”
Windsor sighed. “Ah, geez.”
Greyson turned to hide his laughter, looking again out the window. As the snow fell heavier, his mind started to wonder. Thoughts of his family Christmases flashed from hidden spaces. Sledding. Dunking Oreos in hot chocolate. Opening gifts.
He ripped off the green and red paper.
“It’s a box!” he shouted in glee.
His mother smiled. “Oh, just open it, smarty.”
She didn’t need to ask twice. As he opened the second flap, his father leaned back on the couch. “This one’s from your mother.”
With a wide smile, Greyson reached inside and grabbed the item.
He looked it over, but confusion beset his smile. “It’s cool! But what is it?”
His mother laughed. “It’ll help you keep your things together, so you’re always prepared. For school…”
“For life,” his father added with a wink.
“Like a purse?”
“No,” his mother laughed.
“Kind of…” his father muttered before his wife flashed him a glare.
“It’ll look very handsome on your fanny.”
His fingers played with the fanny pack’s zipper.
“Who’s going to win?”
It was Drake, siding next to him with a small boy attached to each of his legs. They giggled.
Greyson gave them noogies, but they didn’t let go. “Raines. I hope. Doesn’t everybody?”
Drake’s eyes gave it away as he shrugged.
Not everyone wants Raines to win? “Really? Who?”
Drake whispered as the boys began to pull at his shorts to gain his attention. “Windsor likes Coates even if he doesn’t stand a chance. Ankeny thinks they’re all corrupt. I think she’s kind of rooting for the Hammer just out of spite. She thinks America deserves him.”
Ankeny was in the other room with the infants, but Greyson tried to glance down the hall as if trying to understand her just by seeing her. When he couldn’t see her, he returned to the window.
“No one deserves him.”
Greyson didn’t hate the man as many did. He actually had liked him when they had met at the fair. He was funny – and he hated the Plurbs as much as anyone. But that didn’t mean he should be president. While Greyson didn’t understand all the political stuff, he had come to trust Rubicon and their opinions. If they said the Hammer would tear America in pieces, he believed it.
Plus, he couldn’t stand the thought of Sam being the president’s son.
“Are you afraid? Let go, you runts!” Drake pulled at the kids’ grasps of his pockets – spurring their laughter even more.
Sympathizing with Drake, Greyson pulled his goggles over his eyes and stared at the boys.
“Declan Oliver Flaherty. Rowan Gabriel Smith. Let go of him and go draw. Now.”
The boys let go at the same time, slumping to Drake’s feet and then sulking to the crayons next to Asher. Asher was smiling at Greyson. “Using those goggles isn’t fair.”
Greyson left Drake and knelt by Asher. “Oh, yeah? What’s not fair Asher Maverick Critterdon?”
“That. Only parents should be able to use that full-name trick on us.”
“Oh. Well, we wouldn’t have to if you did what we asked all the time.”
“I do.”
“You do? Never do anything wrong, do you?”
“Nope.”
Deception 80%.
Greyson paused at the reading. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it did anyway. Asher was the best-behaved kid he’d ever met.
“We all do wrong stuff sometimes. But not you?”
“Nope.”
The boy kept drawing, pushing the crayon a little too hard. When he noticed Greyson watching him, he glanced up and drew faster.
Greyson knew it would be wrong to press too hard, but it would also be wrong to let him get away with doing something wrong.
“Hey, come with me for a sec.”
“Huh? Why?”
Greyson stood up and glanced at the other kids. “Just ‘cuz.”
Asher flipped his crayon in the air and stood up with a huff; he followed Greyson to another room where Greyson pulled him aside.
“You’re hiding something,” he whispered. “We’re not supposed to hide things from each other.”
Asher averted his eyes. “I’m not.”
Deception 90%
Greyson leaned down. “Stop lying. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing!”
The boy picked at his fanny pack then withdrew quickly, as if he regretted it.
“Did you steal something?”
“No.”
Deception 100%
“What’s in your pack?”
“Why?”
“Don’t make me use your full name.”
Taking the deepest, longest breath, Asher rocked on his heels as if debating to run, but finally he surrendered, blinking hard. He zipped it open.
Greyson fished inside, grabbed a piece of paper, looked at Asher, and read it. It didn’t take long. “These are notes. Things people said in the war room.”
Asher gazed at the ceiling.
“Ash. This is serious. You know you can’t do this. Why would you?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Deception 90%
Greyson continued reading. “If someone got their hands on this, do you know what could happen?”
Something changed on Asher’s face. His guilt was erased and something new set in. With a gulp, Greyson knew. It was fear.
“What?” Asher asked. “What could happen?”
Greyson’s gut dropped to the floor. Panic floored him as he gazed at the boy’s face. Please, please don’t be true.
“Ash. Did you show this to anyone?” he asked, his voice wavering as the
fear took hold of him as well. “This is important, buddy, and I need to know.”
Asher was on the verge of tears. His blue eyes were bubbled with tears.
“Please. Just tell me and I’ll handle it, okay?”
Asher let his tears go and he covered his face. “But h-he’s a friend. He won’t tell anyone bad! H-he just told me he wanted to know; he wanted to keep up with things while he was gone. I don’t write down everything!”
Greyson shuddered and grabbed the boy’s shoulder. “Who?” he asked as calmly as his heart let him. “Who?”
Asher choked back the sobs that wracked his lungs. He wiped at the tears with his hands, revealing guilt-stricken red eyes. “Nick.”
Chapter 52
An hour earlier
Nick rode his bike as far as he could into the snowy woods, but eventually the snow and undergrowth grew too thick and his legs wearied. Jumping off, he walked his bike to the usual tree where the canopy was thick and the area dark, far from the nearest light. Pulling his coat tighter over himself, his teeth began to chatter. He half-regretted the decision to wear the light jacket, but he hadn’t wanted to risk his parents growing suspicious if he’d taken his full one.
Propping his bike against the tree, he got on his knees and scraped away the snow from the spot three strides to the left. It didn’t take long to uncover the metal lid. It took longer to fish the key from his pocket with his gloves on. Finally he surrendered the gloves and inserted the key into its spot. Then, with a grunt, he pulled the lid away, letting some of the earth and snow fall inside.
There was nothing but the rustling of dirt falling into something hollow – until a sudden electronic hum pierced the calm.
Rising from its tomb, pouring dirt and snow from its sides and dropping its gun from its underside, came the disc drone, smaller than Liam, but just as intimidating. Its red eye-dot shone through its black perimeter band as it scanned his retinas.
“Nicholas Aldeman,” he said, accentuating each syllable.
The red dot flashed green and the gun withdrew behind its armor.
Then there was the pause Nicholas hated. He knew it was making contact, but there was no knowing what they would decide to have the drone do once they saw who was contacting them. The man could be watching him through the drone’s camera right now, trying to decide whether or not to pull the trigger, leaving his bloody body to be buried in snow in the vast forest.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it, then replaced his gloves. While he waited, he peered every which way in the forest, searching for anyone who may have followed him. But there was nothing in the forest except him and the drone hovering at eye level.
“Nicholas. This is unplanned,” came Mr. Tomlinson’s voice from the drone’s microphone.
“I received another message. And we are moving out tonight. I won’t have another chance.”
Nick held the copy of Asher’s message in his hands, but he was fearful it would shake itself free. His whole body was a leaf, fragile and shaking. He could pass it off that he wasn’t wearing enough layers, but he knew better.
The drone stared at him – if it could stare. Silent. Still. Contemplating.
“Hold it up for the camera.”
Nick turned Asher’s letter around and faced it toward the drone’s camera, now paranoid his shaking would make it illegible.
“Got it. Now burn it.”
Nick took a lighter to it and set it on the snow to burn. Then he turned, shivering to the drone. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked,” he said, trying not to sound like a scared little boy. “They never found anything on you. I told you they discovered the satellite radio connection. I’ve given you the letters.”
“Yes. You’ve been very helpful. Pluribus is indebted to you.”
“So you’ll keep your word. My brother, my family and Sydney’s.” He paused. “And Greyson.”
“Tell me the location and I’ll do what I can.”
His heart dropped in a panic. “What you can? What does that mean? You said…”
“The letter mentions Avery. Is this Avery Redmond? She’s alive?”
Taken aback, Nick peered through the woods, thinking. “Well, yes, but what does that have to do…”
“Did you know her whereabouts this whole time?”
Nick tried not to look nervous. “I didn’t think she was important,” he lied.
There was a pause. Nick hoped the gun wouldn’t come down. He pleaded with some higher power that it wouldn’t.
“With time so short, we will need to use a third party to retrieve the girl. Professionals. I’m sure they will do what they can to honor your requests as well. I can personally see to it that your family is released and placed safely in the ARC. And all you have to do…is give me the location.”
Nick shivered again, hugging himself to keep warm. His conscience was numb, overworked from a year of hiding and deceiving. He’d known for months that this day would come. A day he could finally be redeemed. In one motion he would free his family and secure his loyalty to a new, freer America. Sure, there would be casualties to his decision. Rubicon. Those whom Operation Cicada would strike. Many would be innocent.
His numb conscience woke up from its slumber again, and he doubted, kicking at the scalded remains of the letter.
He needed to remind himself again why he was right. How many would the government’s drones kill if he were to let the government become an outright tyranny? How many years would the killing last if the people did not rise up now? And how would he live with himself if he neglected an opportunity to help free his country and his family only because of his nagging conscience?
“Nicholas…?”
His eyes snapped to the drone. “Camp Courageous, Colorado.”
Chapter 53
A hundred thoughts raced through Greyson’s mind. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to.
“Nick told you to take notes?”
Asher nodded.
“To show him? How?”
Asher sniffed. “Email.”
Greyson cursed under his breath. It was true. Nick was a traitor.
But what did that mean? Had Nick given them up already? Is that why StoneWater had ambushed Rubicon the last two missions? Would Nick really do that?
And then the room seemed to collapse inward. The roof bulged, the walls suffocated, and he couldn’t breathe. Pressure pushed the air from his lungs and a vice crushed at his heart. A burden that had been dormant, hidden for months reemerged with a vengeance.
Sydney.
Nick was with Sydney right now.
“I’m sorry!” Asher cried. “He said it was a spy game – and that I couldn’t tell. But I didn’t tell everything – I know better.”
Greyson took in a shuddering breath and shook himself back to the present. Don’t panic, Greyson. Knock it off.
“Did you email this one yet? Was that what you did in the Main Lodge?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled his goggles down and skimmed through the note, looking for what kind of things Asher had revealed.
Avery.
Her name.
She was alive.
When he saw it, he gritted his teeth and looked up to see Drake standing in the doorway, concerned.
Greyson stood and put the note in his fanny pack, casting an it’s serious look to Drake before putting his hand on Asher. “We all mess up, Ash. Me more than anyone. All you can do is gut up and make up for it. Stop crying and help us, okay?”
Asher choked, paining himself to hold his sobs at bay.
“Okay?”
“O-okay.”
Then Greyson was off, stopping to whisper to Drake. “Round up the kids – all of them. Tell ‘em it’s a drill. Get them to the back room and stay quiet.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I don’t know yet. We’ve been betrayed.”
Drake nodded and let out a sharp wh
istle, catching the room’s attention. Beep dropped her book, Windsor dropped his crayon, and Grimes dropped his tractor wheel. The kids looked at him with big, white eyes.
A quiet panic had taken hold of the daycare. The kids obeyed, for the most part, but some of the littlest ones had already begun to cry. Drake whispered in the others’ ears and they scattered, rushing to tell the adults in the other rooms. The kids caught on fast as if they could smell the fear. As Drake instructed the kids in a calming manner, Greyson pulled out his phone and found a private corner. He dialed Jarryd and let it ring.
“Hey, hey, Gray-Gray!”
“Jarryd – are you with Avery?”
“Yeah. You jelly?”
“Where are you?”
“We’re on the slope, man. Getting a few last runs in before, you know…”
Beep.
Confused at the sound, Greyson pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the screen. The normal picture of Jarryd doing his chin pump. The beep hadn’t been the phone.
“Greyson? You there?”
Beep.
“Hold on. Just a sec.”
He glanced at his DOC. Liam’s alarm had gone off. He’d seen something and he was racing toward it. But the screen only showed the sky and an abundance of snowflakes zipping past it.
Greyson’s wavering hands brought up his goggles and he saw the mini-map.
No…
Six. Seven. Twelve red dots were descending on camp. Twenty. More. Like fire ants.
He could barely move. He knew only to swipe at his DOC, pulling up the emergency HIVE control. It was installed for this very purpose. Most government installations had them, or anyone rich enough to buy the thing from Redmond for millions of dollars.
He pressed the “Release” button.
But an error message popped up. Malfunction.
He tried again and again. Malfunction. Malfunction.
