At this, I stalled, worrying I was going to trip. It all still felt very unintuitive and alien. But I moved my right leg forward tentatively, expecting myself to lose balance, and the machine instantly moved with me. And as I continued to put one foot slowly in front of the other, it kept up with my movement, until I had walked all the way over to Jace and Jackie.
That was surprisingly easy.
“Perfect,” the man said. “Now walk back to me.”
I did so, and then he proceeded to ask me to demonstrate a few other movements, such as bending my arms, neck, and fingers. The entire machine was remarkably responsive and flexible—and also surprisingly quiet. Other than its metallic feet against the floor, it didn’t make a sound when I moved. I could totally see how it would feel like a second skin after a while.
And my mind went back to mulling over the potential uses that a piece of equipment like this could have…
But he wasn’t finished with the demonstration yet.
“One last thing. Let me show you how to extend the legs,” he said.
My eyebrows rose. “Extend the legs?” I asked.
He nodded, and proceeded to instruct me to press another button, once, with my right big toe.
As soon as I pressed it, there was the sound of clinking metal, and then the hard soles beneath my feet glided upward, until they had raised me two feet in the air. Glancing down, I saw that wide metal stilts had extended beneath me. They were somehow stored within the thick soles of the feet, giving me a significant height advantage. Though I had to admit, this felt a bit unsteady. I didn’t want to find out what it felt like to fall over in one of these things.
“The suit can go quite a bit higher, if you keep holding that button,” he explained, “though obviously we can’t try that indoors. The height thing does take some getting used to, but it’s pretty easy to master with practice.”
He showed me how to set the legs back to their former size, with a quick nudge of the same button, and then how to extend the arms. It involved activating another button, near my left foot, which made the hands shoot out, the metal encasing distancing from my fingers. The suit was so cleverly designed, though, that even though my hands were no longer within the machine’s hands, sensors within the frame still picked up on my finger, wrist, and arm movements, meaning the experience of navigating much longer arms was not that much harder from a technical standpoint. The physical movements were more or less the same. It just required a lot more concentration when you suddenly had an arm span of six feet.
Finally, I pressed the button to open the suit, unstrapped myself, and stepped out, my legs feeling a little wobbly on the wooden floor as I got used to my real body again. I glanced toward Jackie and Jace, who were still gazing at the piece of equipment, their eyes wide and impressed.
Jace then stood up and walked over to us to examine the suit more closely, and Jackie followed suit. “Well, this is interesting, to say the least,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you think so. The suit was originally designed for construction workers,” Mr. Montague explained, taking a seat in an armchair as he watched us eye his equipment. “Which means they’re sturdy, can carry heavy weights effortlessly, and can take hits from heavy objects like bricks and other debris. They should be more or less bulletproof, including the visors, though I can’t say I’ve tested them for that purpose, so I wouldn’t want you to hold me to that. They’re primarily meant to enhance the strength and ability of a human in the workplace. They can also be adjusted to fit any size or shape of person,” he added, looking to Jace. “So, I’m guessing you can already start to see how something like this could be useful.”
I sure as heck could. Completely bulletproof or not, I’d feel a lot safer wearing one of these on whatever missions might lie ahead of us. Especially if they involved ground work. They not only provided protection and supernatural strength, but also an extra layer of concealment, in addition to our masks. The metal feet were noisy, but perhaps they could be customized, padded so they made no more noise than regular boots.
Jace finally returned to his seat, while Jackie and I remained standing by the suit, and he set Mr. Montague with a hard look—one that told me he still didn’t fully trust the guy, and it was time for round two of the vetting process. Which I was glad for, because in spite of how cool this piece of equipment was, I didn’t trust him yet either. How does he happen to have this suit? How many does he have? Why is he so willing to turn it over? were just a few of the questions running through my brain.
“How many of these things do you have?” Jace began.
Mr. Montague gave a casual shrug. “I can be flexible, depending on the mission. When the time comes, if you let me know the number you need, I’ll see if I can meet it.”
“Okay,” Jace replied, though he was still frowning. “And how do you have access to the suits?”
The man blew out, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you understand that I’m not comfortable giving details. But what I can tell you is that I’m in the construction business, and I have a finger on the pulse of emerging technology within the industry.”
“And why is it you want to help us, put yourself out for us in this way?” Jace asked, gazing at him intently, and I mentally gave him a thumbs-up for asking my most pressing questions.
At this, the man gave a bitter laugh. “I wonder if you’d ask me that question if you thought I was poor.”
I frowned, not quite catching his drift. It seemed that Jace didn’t either, as the crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Actually, I would’ve asked the question regardless of what I thought your income might be,” he replied tentatively, eyeing him over, as if trying to make sense of the man.
Mr. Montague shook his head, sighing. “Ah, I didn’t mean to snap at you, boy. I’m just sick of people judging each other based on money in the bank, is all. It’s not just the poor who hate today’s culture. Not that I can blame anyone for holding a prejudice against the upper class. It’s what happens when we have government of the rich, by the rich, for the rich.”
Jace nodded slowly.
And then, to my surprise, the man suddenly reached for the base of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing his bare abdomen. Across it ran a massive scar, starting from the corner of his right hip and connecting to the base of his ribs. It looked like, however the original injury had been caused, it could’ve easily been deep enough to rip his insides out. And yet he had somehow survived.
The man dropped his shirt, leaving us all staring at him. “Curious to know how I got that?” he asked.
We all nodded, transfixed by the older man.
He gave a dry chuckle. “I was one of the early protestors, back in the day. Back when I was young and foolish. Joined the riots during the beginning of the CRAS, and let me tell you, the cops were not gentle with us. An officer sliced me right open with a spiked baton. Was a miracle I survived.” He paused then and leaned forward in his seat, his expression now dead stern. “I show you the scar not to boast, but to impress upon you that I am serious. I might come from a more privileged background than most, but I have always been a fighter for equality. For basic human rights. And I wish to do something about our country’s state of affairs, even in my older age.”
He fell quiet then, and I glanced at Jace and Jackie, whose eyes were wide as they stared at the man, their lips slightly parted. Their expressions mirrored exactly how I felt inside—utterly taken aback by the passion of this man. It made me feel guilty for doubting him, yet it warmed me at the same time. It was further confirmation for what I had always hoped was true: that there were many others like us out there, willing to stand up for what they believed in, from all walks of life.
It took a while for anyone to say anything, and it was Jace who finally broke the quiet. “I see, sir,” he replied, coughing his throat clear. “And I am sorry to call your integrity into question. But I’m sure you understand that we must be careful. As you appear to know better than all of us,
there are lives at stake here.”
Mr. Montague nodded grimly. “Oh, I understand.”
“Then I hope you won’t mind me asking why you’ve shown so little activity on OH, given your desire to help?” Jace asked.
The man sighed, running a hand down his masked face. “It’s what happens when you have a family, lad,” he replied. “I can’t be as reckless as I used to be, not when I have a wife and children. After the riots, I settled down. Took over my father’s business. Can’t say the fire in me ever left, but it got smothered by responsibilities. Then I stumbled upon OH a few years back and joined on a whim. But it’s been hard to know whom to trust, and like I said, I can’t put myself at risk the way I used to. Which was why I was so pleased when you reached out to me,” he concluded, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.
Jace nodded slowly. “Okay,” he replied after a beat. “I suppose that makes sense.”
I watched the man closely as he waited for Jace’s next question. As convincing as his story sounded, of course, we still couldn’t be certain that he was telling the truth. The scar could be from something else—or heck, even fake—but I was getting a good vibe from him. And I really wanted to trust him. The fact that he had shown up with serious technology like the exo-suits at least seemed like a good indication.
I looked back to Jace and watched as he pulled out his tablet and scrolled through what was presumably a list of notes. Then he stowed the pad away and lifted his gaze back to the man.
“Okay,” he said, blowing out. “I think those are all the questions that are relevant for now. I’ll discuss the meeting with my team, and if all goes well, will send you an invite sometime tomorrow.”
“I suppose that’s fair enough,” the older man muttered. “Though, just for the record, I’ll never ask for personal information about any of you, or even another physical meeting. So even if you don’t fully trust me, I’m happy simply to lend the tech. Just a thought to keep in mind. It’ll give an old man a lot of satisfaction.” He gave us a wan smile.
Jace nodded appreciatively. “I understand. And thank you. It’s generous of you, sir.”
And then we all rose to our feet, and the man led us to the door. He opened it for us, allowing us back onto the porch.
“Safe journey home,” he said, his expression turning tense, his eyes darting about the street once more, as if he was worried someone was watching.
“Thanks again,” Jace replied.
“Have a good night,” I said warmly.
He cast me a gentle smile back, his gaze weary yet glistening with a spark of hope. “And you, dear. God bless,” he said softly, and then he was closing the door, fastening it with the heavy draw of a bolt.
22
After we reunited with the twins, we all headed back to the station together. Thanks to our comms setup, Abe and Ant had heard the whole conversation, and the only thing they wanted to be filled in on was details of what the suit looked like. The five of us went over how we thought the meeting had gone as we retraced our steps through the town, and everyone seemed to be of a similar mind, including Jace.
Mr. Montague appeared to be legit.
By the time we had reached Bridgeton Main Station, we had pretty much discussed all angles that any of us could think of, based on the brief conversation, and were just about ready to part ways, when we realized that the barriers had been closed. The station had been shut down for maintenance this evening. All of us had apparently failed to notice the warning sign earlier, which was lit up on the station’s notice screen.
Which meant we had to walk to the next nearest station, which was about half an hour away, on the other side of Bridgeton.
Which presented another annoying opportunity for my nostalgia to resurface.
I’d been able to distract myself pretty well since we left the station, thanks to the intrigue of the meeting, but as we set off on another walk, delving deeper into the town, we began to pass places that were more familiar to me—from Henry’s and my favorite ice cream shop, to a theater where we’d watched our first movie together—and I found myself falling silent again, needing to be in my own space as I grappled with the same damn feelings that rematerialized from earlier, while my colleagues continued to chat around me.
Henry’s gone, I told myself firmly. He’s not coming back. He’s probably even met another girl by now.
And I don’t need another guy in my life. Not now. Probably not for a long time. I don’t have room for him. He’ll just bring in his socks and underwear and scatter them over my floor. And I don’t have time to pick them up.
That was the thing about nostalgia, I needed to remind myself. It could be both a gift and a curse. It made you only remember the good things about people and places of the past, glossing over the not-so-good as if they had never existed. Everything was rainbows and unicorns, kisses against the sunset and lovemaking on the beach.
Which was great when you wanted to look back on your life, in your old age, and remind yourself of all the nice times you’d lived through.
But it wasn’t so great when you were trying to move on from something. It dragged you back, reminding you of what you were missing out on, infecting you with feelings that were irrational, and yet near impossible to shake. Because somehow, it made you believe that you could experience them again, without all the bad stuff that was fundamentally part of the package we called life.
The reality was, once you got past the starry-eyed first-date and honeymoon phase, relationships were hard work. And you had to really, really be sure about your partner before you ventured into one, if you wanted to stand any chance of coming out the other end of it unscathed.
I exhaled, shaking my head and running a hand down my face.
As soon as I got out of this town, I knew all this stuff would go away, and I could be back to normal in a day or two. So I just had to hold out a little bit longer, until we reached the next station.
My silence attracted Jace’s notice once again, however, and, after about ten minutes of me hanging back, he retreated from the conversation with Jackie and the twins to walk by me, causing my breath to hitch involuntarily.
I liked the guy, but I really didn’t need him in close proximity right now. Then again, that was my exact problem. I liked him. I friggin’ liked him.
“You okay?” he asked, casting me a sidelong glance.
I forced a smile, keeping my eyes on the path ahead. “Yeah.”
“Okay. You just seemed pretty quiet all of a sudden.”
I pressed my lips together. “Mm-hm. This place just holds some memories for me, is all.”
“The good kind, I hope,” he remarked.
I shrugged, wanting to keep playing it cool, in the hope that I could fake it till I made it, that my external mood would infect my actual inner state. “Think high school summer romances.”
His eyebrows rose. “Sounds scandalous.”
I laughed, in spite of how close his remark came to the truth. “Yeah,” I replied, shooting him a look. “Maybe I am the scandalous type.”
A smile tugged at his slightly uneven lips. “I’d never have guessed.”
“Then you still know very little about me, Mr. X,” I replied primly, switching my gaze back ahead, as I was well aware by now what those little dimples at the edges of his mouth could do to me.
“Clearly…” he said.
As we rounded a corner, passing a music shop Henry and I had hung out in a few times, I felt a sudden twinge of guilt and abruptly felt the urge to add, “You do know my first name, though.”
Jace looked at me in surprise, raising an eyebrow. “Robin?” he mouthed, and I nodded. “Your real first name?”
“Mm-hm.”
He frowned. “Oh. Okay.”
I could tell he was wondering why I’d suddenly decided to tell him, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure either. The fact that I was feeling a bit jumpy right now, in my attempt to force confidence and chill in front of him, might have had something to
do with it, causing me to overcompensate. Because honestly, getting closer to him by sharing personal information was the last thing I needed to do.
And yet, I just felt it was fair to him. As a friend. It had been playing on the back of my mind for a while, ever since I had learned his full real name, because it didn’t sit right with me that the balance was tipped completely on his side. I somehow felt more comfortable in our professional relationship knowing he knew at least something more about me.
Besides, he was already calling me Robin, so it hardly felt like a huge step.
“Thanks, I guess,” he said after a moment, still eyeing me curiously. “I appreciate the trust. Though you didn’t have to tell me.”
“I know,” I replied. “It just seemed fair.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly, and then returned his eyes to the sidewalk ahead. “Well, I suppose I have it easier than you, not needing to remember to switch your name in public.”
I chuckled. “Yup.”
“Oh, and speaking of names,” he added. “On a different note: I haven’t heard back from any of my contacts yet with an affirmative about the archives. And I know that the community response hasn’t exactly been great, but I’m still hopeful someone will come back with something.”
“Okay,” I replied, grateful for the change of subject, but also feeling a throb of disappointment. I hadn’t really expected him to come back with an answer so quickly, though, as he had only put out the word last night. And I appreciated him taking this so seriously.
His statement also reminded me of the developments on OH+ that were supposed to have taken place today, which would finally make it easier for us to begin serious action planning.
And with that to focus my mind on, now I couldn’t get home soon enough.
I managed to keep thoughts of Jace mostly at bay on my journey home, with my brain anticipating the new portal (leaving Bridgeton helped with that, though I knew it would take at least a day or so for the nostalgia to fully wear off), and on reaching my cabin, I flung myself onto the sofa with my tablet before even getting any food or water. I logged on to OH+ and was thrilled to see that the changes had been made as planned. There had been little tweaks implemented all over the site to make it run more smoothly and intuitively, but the one that caught my eye was the most important one: a poll module right above the discussion forum.
The Child Thief Page 22
