by G. P. Ching
“He’s still there. The fire chief now, and acting leader of the Liberty Party while the Greens have my father. I think he’s our best bet.”
“Will we make it in time?”
“I’ve set the address for a few miles away, in the deadzone. We’ll dump the car and travel by sewer.”
Great. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. I was beginning to miss the sewer.
30
We exit the grid at the cluster of dilapidated buildings near the spot where I’d given the homeless man my bottle of water. Korwin parks the car. This is the deadzone. There’s no electricity in this area, so the only light comes from the half-moon. We run three blocks west and duck inside the nearest building. Shuffling toward the back with my father wedged between Jeremiah and me, I notice rows of empty shelves and a few cans of long-expired pet food.
“What was this place?” Jeremiah asks.
“Looks like a grocery store,” Korwin says. “We’re not even that far out. The deadzone keeps getting bigger. The power goes out and that’s all she wrote. People abandon everything and migrate into the city.”
We find an office in the back with a door to the alley.
“Give me your sweatshirt,” Korwin says to Jeremiah.
He removes the hoody he’s wearing and hands it over.
Korwin hangs the sweatshirt off the chair, then dodges back into the store for a moment. When he returns, he pulls the tab back on a can of pet food and buries a plastic fork in it. “Maybe, if they find this, they’ll think we’ve made camp here. It might buy us a few minutes if they search the place.”
“Can’t we stay here?” Jeremiah asks. “Just for a while. To rest.” He gestures toward my father.
Korwin shakes his head. “They’ll track the car, then methodically search everywhere within a five-mile radius. Trust me, we’re on borrowed time.”
We slip out the back door, travel two blocks down the alley, and enter the sewer. My father is too weak to walk the entire way, so Jeremiah and I take turns carrying him on our backs. We follow Korwin through the maze of pipes for more than an hour before emerging in an alley behind a fire station. There is power here, but the lit streets are quiet because of the time of night.
“There,” my father says, pointing at an awning-covered door on the side of the building.
Korwin nods.
The door is unlocked. We enter a garage full of fire trucks and climb a flight of stairs. The second floor is populated with men in blue uniforms—playing cards, smoking cigars, eating from waxed cardboard containers.
“It’s exactly how I left it,” my father says.
Silence. The firemen stare at us expectantly until a stocky young man in the back rises from his chair and approaches. He brushes his hand over his thinning brown hair.
“I’ll be damned. Franklin Stark. You look like hell. What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.” My father lists in Jeremiah’s arms. “Last time I saw you, Brady, you were hiding behind your father’s knee. How is your father?”
“Retired but doing okay.” Brady’s eyes flick over me, and then Korwin, who is still only wearing a pair of hospital pants. All of us are covered in remnants of the sewer. “What happened to you?”
“We need to see Jonas Kirkland,” Korwin says.
A flicker of understanding crosses Brady’s face. “Upstairs,” he says. He waves a hand at the others in the room. “Go back to what you were doing. I’ll take care of this.” He motions for us to continue ahead of him and then sees how weak my father is. “There’s an elevator. We’re required by law to have one but none of us ever use it. No sense burning the energy. It’s at the front of the building.”
“No, thanks,” my father says. He leans on Jeremiah and grabs my elbow.
Together, we slowly ascend. On the third floor, a massive steel door greets us. Brady punches a code into a pad. A tight close-up of the man I met at Stuart Manor appears on screen. Jonas.
“There are people here for you,” Brady says.
Korwin and I lean in front of the camera.
“Thank you, Brady,” Jonas says. There’s a buzzing sound, and the massive door slides into the wall. We walk into a bunker of a room, steel framed with rows of cots, a kitchenette, and a small office space where Jonas sits at a desk.
The door slides back into place behind us and the bolt scrapes into position.
“I never thought I’d lay eyes on you two again. How the hell did you escape from CGEF? We’ve had no new intel for weeks.”
“David helped me,” I say.
“David who?”
“You know him as Jameson.”
Korwin and Jonas stare at me like I’m speaking a different language. “He’s one of the Alpha Eight. He and his wife, Natasha, were recaptured when the other six escaped. Konrad’s been using him as a spy, threatening to kill his wife if he didn’t help them.”
“That filthy mole.” Korwin curses. “He’s the one who turned us in!”
“He said he had no choice.”
Jonas looks flustered. He types furiously on his keyboard. “He could do a lot of damage to our cause, depending on how much he shared. Do you know if he named names?”
“It’s been weeks. If he had, I’d think you would know by now.”
“Hmm.” Jonas runs a hand through his wooly hair. “What makes you think the Greens aren’t just waiting for the right time to slaughter us all?”
“He helped me escape. He taught me to fight and showed me the way out. Last we saw him, he was trying to escape himself.”
“We can’t trust him,” Korwin says.
Jonas nods. “I’m putting the resistance on high alert.” He finishes typing, then seems to notice my father and Jeremiah for the first time. He squints and stands to get a closer look.
“Franklin Stark? I’ll be damned.”
“Nice place you got here, Jonas,” my father says.
The man’s graying eyebrows arch above twinkling brown eyes. “I convinced the Green Republic that a fire station needs a fireproof room for its firefighters. After what happened the day you left, they couldn’t refuse me. We lost a man that day.”
“Smart thinking.” My father accepts an embrace from Jonas. “This is my boy, Jeremiah.”
I start at how he says “my boy,” as if Jeremiah is his son.
“What are you doing here?” Jonas shakes Jeremiah’s hand but keeps his eyes on my father. “We thought you’d died in the explosions.”
“I moved to Willow’s Province.”
“Ah, Willow’s Province. The place people go to get lost and be forgotten.” Jonas narrows his eyes and gives a half-smile. He turns toward the window and clasps his hands behind his back, watching the occasional headlight go by on the street below. “I can understand your need to be secretive. This is some deep muck you’ve gotten yourself into, Frank. Hell, I thought you hated politics. Not to mention, I thought you were dead. And then you show up at my door with Korwin Stuart and Lydia Lane. I think I deserve an explanation.”
My father doesn’t answer. Funny, learning he isn’t my biological father has only made me trust him more. The risks he’s taken for me—he is my father in every way, despite the differences in our cells. If he doesn’t trust Jonas enough to say I’m his daughter, or to mention Hemlock Hollow, I won’t either. While I’m grateful for a place to hide from the Greens, I’m not crazy about returning to the clutches of the Liberty Party, not now that I know they’ve killed people—children—in their quest to overtake the Green Republic.
My father limps closer to him. “That’s interesting, because when I left, you could not have cared less about the Green Republic. Your three girls were your whole world. How are your girls doing, anyway?”
“Fine. Grown. Gainfully employed. Reunion over. I need details.”
“All the details you need are standing right there in front of you. These are good kids. You know what the Green Republic will do to them if they catch us again. We need he
lp.”
Jonas’s eyes fall on Jeremiah. “Who are you, besides Frank’s boy?”
“No one. I’m a friend who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I’m surprised at the daggers Jeremiah shoots at me. Does he blame me for all this?
“Hmph. You, I do feel sorry for,” Jonas says. He drifts toward Korwin. “The rebellion needs you, both of you, but I have to know what I’m getting myself into. I need to know every detail. How did they capture you? What does the Green Republic know? How did you escape? The networks are exploding over this.”
“We’ll tell you,” I say. “Everything you need to know. But keep my father and Jeremiah out of this.”
Jonas lets out a deep breath and eyes Korwin’s state of dress. “Okay. First things first, it’s obvious you need a shower, food, and rest. You’re no good to the Liberty Party in your current state.”
“Thank you,” my father says, choosing a chair at the table. He lowers himself into it with a series of jerky movements. He’s exhausted and probably in pain. My heart aches to think that I’ve ruined him, that he might never be the same because he hasn’t completed his rehabilitation.
“It won’t be safe for you to stay here for long. I have a feeling we’re already on borrowed time.” Jonas types on the keyboard at his desk. “I’m sending a message to our supporters. I’ll see if I can find you a safe house.”
“What about Maxwell?” I ask.
Jonas frowns. “I’m a realist. Maxwell may already be dead, but we’ll keep our ear to the ground.”
I jump at the word dead. As angry as I am at Maxwell, the thought of Korwin losing the only father he has ever known pains me.
“There’s something I have to know,” Korwin says to Jonas. His face hardens, and he clenches his fists.
The old man looks at Korwin’s distressed state in confusion. “What exactly?”
“Did you know about the West Hub bombing?”
The old man goes perfectly still. “Boy, I think you’d better go hit the shower, and while you’re in there, think long and hard about the wisdom of dredging up ancient history.”
31
Thankfully, the fire station has a small bank of showers, useful for the long shifts the firefighters work on a regular basis. Clean and fully dressed, I wait in the tiny vestibule of lockers outside the bathroom for Korwin to emerge, anxious to get him alone.
When he sees me, I don’t have to ask what’s wrong.
“I’ve been such a fool.” Hands on his hips, Korwin shifts from side to side. “This whole time I thought my father was a hero. You heard what he said when the Greens threatened him. He’s a killer. Collateral damage! A murderer… of children.”
“It’s awful, Korwin, but he said he didn’t know.”
“And you believe him?”
I spread my hands. “I don’t know what to believe, but he’s not here to defend himself, and I certainly don’t trust the Greens.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve spent enough time making excuses for him, for this whole damn rebellion.”
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I turn him so that we are face to face. “I agree with you. Your father’s actions are deplorable, but don’t you see? This is an evil world. Do you remember what I told you about Hemlock Hollow, about the choice my ancestors made to live behind the wall?”
“Yeah.”
“A person can’t have it both ways. You either fight or you separate yourself from the evil.” My mind spins at the edge of reason. “I… I think, we can’t judge what your father or the Liberty Party did any more than we can judge what David did. We’re all just trying to survive.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m sick of just surviving. I want a life. A real life, away from all of this.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to go to a safe house. I want to go with you, to Hemlock Hollow.”
As I lie in the dark of Jonas’s flat, I ponder how I used to sleep at home in Hemlock Hollow. I miss it. I’d fall asleep when my head hit the pillow and only wake when the rooster crowed. The English world never sleeps. I’ve been running on stolen moments. My dreams, even my nightmares, used to be hopeful. Now they are filled with explosions and people chasing me. As if our circumstances aren’t horrific enough, my brain replays them over and over in my head. It’s the middle of the night but I am wide awake while Korwin’s chest rises and falls in peaceful slumber on the cot next to me.
I’m not sure how I feel about Korwin’s admission that he wants to leave the English world. Part of me is elated. I love him and won’t have to live without him. But another part fears this is an escape, a way to not have to face the debunked hero that is his father. Life in Hemlock Hollow isn’t easy. It isn’t a place to escape personal problems. It’s just different.
“Korwin!” Jonas snaps. “Wake up and get over here. You need to see this.”
Korwin groggily opens his eyes and runs a hand over his face. I, on the other hand, bound from my cot and hasten to Jonas’s side. He swipes his finger across the screen, rewinding a television clip to the beginning.
On the monitor is the same blond newscaster I’d seen at Maxwell’s house and on the street, Alexandra Brighten, but today there’s a man behind the desk as well. SPECIAL REPORT scrolls across the screen. Korwin joins me at the monitor.
Earlier today, rebel terrorists escaped Green authorities before they could be transported to Crater City penitentiary. The fugitives, seen here in their previous escape, are considered armed and dangerous. The clip of Korwin and me bursting through the front window of CGEF flashes across the screen.
The male host turns toward Alexandra. When you say armed and dangerous, should the public consider this a high-alert situation?
That’s right, Marshal. These terrorists are hell-bent on destroying CGEF and our entire nation’s way of life. The good news is authorities have captured their leader and a public execution is scheduled for dawn unless the fugitives turn themselves in.
Maxwell’s beaten and bloody body flashes across the screen. He is handcuffed and on his knees, his head lists to the side as if he’s barely conscious. The barrel of a gun presses against his temple.
A familiar face fills the camera—Officer Reynolds. The Crater City government does not negotiate with terrorists. Turn yourselves in or he dies.
The clip fades to Alexandra and Marshal smiling at the camera. Well, I don’t know about you, Marshal, but I feel so much safer knowing the government is serious about capturing these terrorists. Hopefully these criminals will do the right thing and turn themselves in.
That’s for sure. Marshal bobs his head. In other news—
Jonas taps the screen and the clip pauses. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I’ve put the word out that Maxwell’s absence appears to be permanent. And I’ve found a family in Northern Province that’s willing to take you in. I recommend we get you out of here on one of the trucks.”
“Aren’t you even going to attempt to rescue him?” I ask incredulously.
Jonas snorts. “It would be a suicide mission. Trust me when I say there is no way Maxwell Stuart is walking out of CGEF alive. Look at him. He’s barely alive as it is.”
Korwin scowls. Our eyes meet. No words are said but plenty is communicated. He knows where I stand. We can’t leave this undone.
“A suicide mission for you. Possible for us,” Korwin says.
Jonas’s head snaps around. “Korwin, they’ll just kill you, too. Even you can’t take on CGEF.”
“I have to try.”
“I can’t let you. You’re too important to the rebellion.”
“To hell with the rebellion!” Korwin yells. “This is the man who saved me. He took me in and raised me as his own. He could’ve turned me over to the authorities the day I was left on his doorstep, but he didn’t. I’m not leaving him to die on theirs”—Korwin looks at me—“no matter what he’s done.”
“We can’t give ourselves up. They’ll just kill him anyway,”
I say. “After last night, CGEF will be completely locked down. We’ll never get back in without being caught.”
“You’re right. We’ll need a distraction,” Korwin says. “And we need backup.”
“What are you proposing?” Jonas asks.
“You say we are too valuable to the rebellion to risk, but Lydia and I want no part in your politics. I’m proposing that we put my father’s plan into action tonight. The rebellion has waited for the right moment to attack. This is it.” Korwin’s face is tired and desperate. “You attack, and we use the distraction to save my father.”
Jonas’s eyes widen. “You’re talking about organizing a revolution in a couple of hours. It isn’t possible.”
The brilliance of Korwin’s plan dawns on me. This is the only way out. If we allow Jonas to take us to a safe house, this nightmare will never end. We are trapped, pawns in a game of war. To break out, we have to pay the price and make our move, now.
I make my hands glow like stars in the dark room. “Don’t tell us what is and is not possible, Jonas.” I match his unblinking stare.
In Hemlock Hollow, I would have never disrespected an elder in such a way. But this world, the world of the Englishers, makes promises it can’t keep. The rules don’t apply here.
I thought coming here would be harmless. Maybe even helpful to make me fully realize who I am. I thought it would make me a better seamstress and wife. Maybe give me something to talk about to my grandchildren when I was old and gray. In a way it has; I am a capable warrior, a leader, and more powerful than I ever thought possible. But by an ironic twist of fate, I am also wise enough to wish I’d never come here or had to use these skills. My hope is that after tonight, I’ll never have to again. I want to go home, and if I ever make it back to Hemlock Hollow, I will never return.
“What was Maxwell’s plan?” I ask Korwin.
“You and I take down the grid. Once the power’s out, the Liberty Party uses the distraction to attack.”
I nod. “And in the scuffle, we move in and grab Maxwell. Then we escape to Willow’s Province and never come back.”
