by K. Makansi
“You want fire? I’ll give you fire!” he shouts. His eyes are bright as glass as the flames light up the people around him. “Who organized this? Show yourselves!” He spins around like a madman. We’re at the edge of the crowd, which opens like a gaping wound around him. A few burn victims scream as others carry them away. Even Watchers bend to help the marchers move victims to safety.
As people to continue to fall, the chaos grows, and screams fill the air. What was just moments ago a peaceful demonstration has turned into a slaughter. Although Evander’s flames are scary, it’s the Bolt fire that is truly deadly. We have to stop the black ops.
Someone comes tearing through the crowd in exactly the opposite direction as everyone else. Wearing a Firex hood and a red handkerchief tied around his wrist, I recognize the figure as Eli. Granted some protection by the fireproof clothing, he charges into the opening and leaps onto one of the black ops from behind, jabbing a knife into his throat. The man thrashes in Eli’s arms, but the wound is too deep. The other soldier swivels toward them but has no clear shot, his partner’s body protecting Eli.
Bear steps into the opening and, with all of his strength, charges at Evander’s back with the flagpole he’s been using to lead the march held in front of him like a jousting pole. The blunt end hits Evander square in the small of his back, knocking him over. Seeing the danger Eli’s put himself in, I sprint through the throng, searching for a clear shot. With black ops, I can’t take the risk of stunning him. I flip my Bolt to kill.
The remaining soldier, focused on Eli, never sees me as I find my angle, take aim, and fire. Sparks fly on the pavement as my shot goes wide, and Evander’s back on his feet in an instant. Bear and Eli turn, disappearing back into the crowd as Evander regains his grip on the flamethrower. He squares his legs, and flames shoot toward us, searing the air with white heat. The heat is tangible but too distant to be harmful.
“Take him down!” I shout. Evander’s head snaps around toward the sound of my voice, but I keep moving, darting through the people at the edge of the circle around him even as he advances and the line of marchers retreat, trying to keep a safe distance. I keep my eyes out for Bear and Eli, but both of them are nowhere to be seen. As Evander looks for the source of the voice, a few protesters begin tracking him, keeping a healthy distance but throwing everything they have at him. The Watchers and SDF look on, some in shock, some clearly horrified, others egged on by his behavior. Out of the crowd, a few brave souls finally charge at him from behind. Just as they’re about to reach him, I hear Bear’s voice.
“Hey, Evander,” Bear shouts. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps of Assembly Hall. “You looking for someone?”
Evander pivots and points the flamethrower at Bear. If he’s not careful, Evander will light him up like a firework. I try to stay hidden between and behind bodies in the crowd. If I can catch him unawares, I can blast him from behind. But in the melee, I’m buffeted by too many bodies.
My heart pounds as Evander approaches Bear with determined steps. Bear runs up a few stairs, and Evander follows, like a great stalking monster.
As soon as Bear reaches the top, he turns. He’s got everyone’s attention. Everyone’s watching him. I know he started the morning with a handheld Bolt, but does he still have it? He looks down on Evander, the bravado in his voice ringing out. “Evander Sun-Zi, the people of the Farms are willing to spare your life if you resign from your position and confess your crimes.”
Evander advances slowly, ignoring the thousands of citizens behind him.
“You killed innocent Farm workers at Round Barn,” Bear says. I can see his finger’s twitching. Is he armed? He’s calmer than I could have imagined. “And I intend to make you pay.”
“Are you going to arrest me, Antoine Baier?” Evander’s identified him.
“You wouldn’t dare kill me in front of all these people. Surrender,” Bear demands, “and you will be judged for your crimes by your fellow citizens.”
Oh, Bear. His idealism crushes me.
Evander drops his flamethrower and it clatters to the ground. Still, no one is bold enough to run and take it from him.
“I surrender,” he says. Around me, a cheer goes up, hundreds of people shouting in triumph. Am I the only one who hears the mocking in his voice?
“The people will show you mercy,” Bear says loudly, addressing the whole crowd, “even though you showed them none. You will be bound by your words and held to justice in a court of law.”
Evander falls to his knees and holds his arms out wide. I tense, every fiber in my body screaming that something is horribly wrong.
“I promise.”
Bear holds his red fist over his head. For the first time, he takes his eyes off Evander, looking triumphantly out at the crowd.
I see the moment unfurl almost before it happens. Evander drops his hand to his side and reaches into his jacket. I charge forward out of the crowd, screaming.
“BEAR!”
I drop to my knees and pull up my weapon. Bear’s eyes go wide as he sees Evander’s movement. Evander points the Bolt in his hand at Bear in the same moment as I pull the trigger on mine.
My shot connects with Evander’s shoulder. His arm flies up and the Bolt falls from his hand. He crumples to the stairs in a heap, and I charge up the steps to stand over him, just in case he dares raise his head again.
Bear stares at me.
“Did you kill him?”
To show mercy is to refrain from harm when someone deserves protection. To show grace is to refrain from harm when someone does not deserve protection. Bear showed grace to Evander. The Dragon didn’t deserve the life that Bear offered him.
I bend over Evander and put two fingers to his neck. No pulse. “One more second and it would’ve been you lying here.”
A shadow crosses Bear’s face. He shakes his head, disappointed—in himself? In Evander? In me?
“Thanks,” is all he says.
26 - VALE
Summer 5, Sector Annum 106, 7h47
Gregorian Calendar: June 25
The mood in the room rapidly deteriorated after Moriana left. If finding her already here with my mother after I was dragged into the room in handcuffs hadn’t told me she had betrayed me, the fact that she was so eager to follow my mother’s orders as soon as they were out of her mouth confirmed my worst fears. My father was still protesting the directive, insisting Corine call an emergency meeting of the full OAC board before medical staff around the Sector began administering the vaccine. The argument was getting increasingly heated, with legislators joining in on both sides, when drone footage showed the Sector Sunflower erupting in flames on the vidscreens.
“Look at that,” Evander stood, pointing at the screen. “We’re arguing over vaccines while all hell is breaking loose on the steps of Assembly Hall.”
“It’s not just any vaccine,” Philip said. “A final vote should be taken before the program is implemented.”
“We need to take direct action against these rebels.” Evander’s voice rose. “How does nobody understand this?”
“Evander,” my father stepped toward him. “I have given specific orders, remember? We are not going to have a repeat of Round Barn on the steps of the Assembly Hall.”
“Madame Orleán,” Evander appealed to my mother, whose glassy eyes were having trouble focusing. She said nothing, and Evander shook his head. “I’m going to stop this madness.” He pushed back his chair and motioned for two black ops soldiers stationed at the door to follow him.
Nobody protested, but nobody followed, either. And nobody, not even General Aulion, expected Evander to open fire on the protesters with a flamethrower on the steps of the capitol building. In the ensuing chaos, everyone seems to forget about me.
“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Philip’s voice is harsh.
“Chancellor, what are your orders? Should I take control before this gets out of hand?” Aulion strides to the door, ready to follow Evander.
On screen we watch as the black ops fire repeatedly into the crowd, providing cover for Evander as he sprays jets of fire at innocent protesters. My heart seizes.
Philip looks shell-shocked. Two of the cabinet members stand and shout as Evander unloads another jet of fire onto the protestors.
“You have to do something!”
“Stop him!”
“We can’t have SDF soldiers firing on OAC operatives. That will only contribute to the chaos,” Philip says, his voice edged with anger and frustration. He looks to Corine. “What should we do?”
But my mother is transfixed by the action on the screen and doesn’t respond. Just then, someone comes hurtling from the crowd and launches himself onto one of the soldiers. In a flurry of motion, the two black ops are down and Evander is knocked to his knees. The drone cameras zoom in, and I can see Bear and Eli disappearing back into the crowd.
“Dispatch two squads to keep the people away from Evander.” Philip gives the order through his C-Link. “Send a third to get him out of there.”
But before the soldiers can reach him, Evander’s facing Bear on the steps of Assembly Hall.
“Who is that kid?” someone mutters.
We all watch, silent as a grave, as Evander drops to his knees. And then, as if in slow motion, I see Evander’s hand reach into his jacket and pull out a Bolt. I start forward only to have one of the guards grab my arm. He’s going to shoot Bear. But then Evander crumples, falling face forward. Thirty seconds later, drones confirm his death. I suck in a breath as I watch Remy charge up the steps to stand over Evander’s body. Then Bear is beside her, and, with a jolt, I realize it was Remy’s Bolt blast that had taken Evander down.
General Aulion speaks up after a beat. “We need new orders, sir.”
“Retrieve the bodies and dispatch medevacs.” Philip’s voice is flat.
“What’s happening?” Corine’s face is shining with sweat. The peyote is taking effect, though it seems I’m the only one who’s noticed anything strange: rapid eye movement, damp hairline, agitation, and difficulty articulating concepts. Everything she tries to say comes out slightly off kilter. She clutches at her gut. I wonder if she’s nauseous. The Sector sanctions the use of certain mind-altering substances including marijuana and MDMA, but psychedelics haven’t been in common use since before the Famine Years. If my mother has any idea what’s happening to her, she’s certainly not talking about it.
“Are you ill?” Philip asks. She waves him off.
“No,” she says, straightening her spine and taking a long breath. “Just a little stomach upset. I think it was that tea.” Her eyes are just a little too wide as she stares at the vidscreen. She seems unable to look away.
My father watches her carefully, glancing between me and General Aulion. What’s going on with her? The question on his face is clear.
Corine turns, tearing her eyes away from the vidscreens, and looks around the room. She holds a glass of water so tight her fingers turn white as she surveys our faces.
“Falke—what—how did that—”
Corine doesn’t waver, doesn’t falter. She doesn’t stumble over her words, and she certainly doesn’t question her own decisions—at least not aloud. I meet Philip’s gaze but try to keep my expression blank.
Demeter speaks in my ear. “I’m going to begin recording the audio in the room. I’ve connected to ONN and hacked their firewalls. Get her talking, and the recording will go live on every available Okarian News Network feed.”
Thank you, Demeter.
Everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably. I can tell the officials present don’t want to cross my mother, don’t want to acknowledge her strange behavior, and don’t want to second guess my father. Except for General Aulion, who watches her for a long moment and then strides over to where I’m standing and grips my arms in an iron vise, pushing me back up against the wall.
“You know something,” he snarls. “Tell me.”
“You have more answers than I do.” I stare him down. “Think it’s time to tell the chancellor you countermanded his orders in Windy Pines?” I whisper.
“General Aulion, please step back.” My father’s voice booms in the room. It’s the most commanding he’s sounded all morning. “We have already questioned Valerian enough for now. We must attend to the protest outside.”
I lock eyes with my mother, past Aulion’s shoulder, who reluctantly takes two steps away from me. I direct my speech to Corine. “There are five thousand innocent Farm workers on Rue Jubilation, and the man in charge of managing those very Farms just went out there with OAC operatives and committed murder. With a flamethrower. How can you sanction that?”
She begins pacing, running shaking fingers through her hair every few moments, glancing around the room, then settling her gaze on me. “Evander was controlling a dire situation.”
“A situation you and Evander created.”
“You understand nothing, Vale.” She waves me away.
I keep my composure, but I can tell hers is fraying at the edges.
“Evander was controlling a situation. And Remy Alexander is a traitor to our ideals, our ideas of the Sector, the ideas the Sector was founded on, everything we stand for. Whoever that boy is, who is he? Why does he matter? Of course he matters, he organized this whole disaster, he brought these people to our city, he brought these people, these—”
“That boy has a name, Mother. Like the workers Evander incinerated at Round Barn. Like the ones he just killed outside.”
“Corine, you’re not well. Why don’t you sit down? What’s going on?” My father places a comforting hand on Corine’s shoulder, pushing her toward her seat. But she rounds on him.
“I’m perfectly well. I don’t need to sit. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“Fine! I am perfectly fine!” she shouts and pushes him away, then looks around the room as if she’d just done something horribly embarrassing. She regains some composure and says in a more normal voice, “I apologize to everyone here. I think I’ve been drugged.” She turns and faces me. The lines on her face soften and twist, her mouth hangs open, brows crease.
Aulion swivels and lunges, slamming me against the wall. “What did you do?”
But my mother jumps forward and pulls Aulion from me. The general, surprised, steps back immediately, putting his hands up. He wouldn’t dare cross Madam Orleán, even when she’s clearly compromised.
“Vale.” Corine puts a hand to my cheek, looking at me with a mix of horror and morbid curiosity. I can only imagine what the drug is making her see. “Did you poison me?”
I look at my father. His skin turns a green-white color.
“No.”
“Then what? Who? Why do I feel this way?”
“Corine, tell us what’s happening so we can help you.” My father tries to put his arms around his wife, but she jumps away from him as if his fingers are talons biting into her skin.
“It’s not poison,” I say. “You’re going to be fine in a few hours.”
Philip turns to me. “What’s going on? Did you do this?”
I step forward. This is my chance.
“You’re live, Vale,” Demeter whispers in my ear.
“You want information from me, and today I am prepared to answer your questions. You want to know who organized the march, who hacked the Olympia broadcast feed, who’s on the inside feeding information to the Resistance.” I look around, addressing everyone in the room. “The people of the Sector are outside lining Rue Jubilation, and we are tired of your lies. We are Outsiders, Farm and Factory workers, Okarian citizens. We are your friends, colleagues, servants, research partners. We serve you in bars and restaurants, and even in your own homes. I am one of them. I stand with the Resistance.”
Corine backs up, but I step forward, maintaining our closeness.
“Vale, you can’t, you wouldn’t do this to me, what are you saying?”
She picks at something on her sle
eve, stares at it as if it is the most fascinating thing she’s ever encountered, and then looks up, startled at a shadow on the wall.
Aulion steps forward again, but I glare at him and my father holds up a cautioning hand. I continue. “But I have some questions of my own. And I would appreciate it if you told the truth for once. I deserve the truth from you, Mother.”
Philip steps between us and puts his hands on my shoulder. “I don’t like this game you’re playing, Vale.”
I push his hands off. “This isn’t a game. People are dying outside. I think you might be interested in some of the answers, too.”
“Let’s start with an easy question.” I grab my mother’s hand, a conciliatory gesture that feels foreign but necessary. “Did you or did you not order an OAC security guard—one of your select black ops—to open fire on all nine students and Professor Hawthorne three years ago in what has since been called the SRI Massacre?”
“Vale, how did you—of course—you don’t understand—”
“The Outsiders didn’t have anything to do with it?”
“No,” Corine whispers.
“The SRI Massacre?” Philip shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his hair. “It isn’t possible.” But one glance at Corine’s face does it for Philip. He knows his wife too well, and she can’t hide under her many masks while in the thick of a peyote trip. He looks at Aulion, whose face remains impassive, his non-reaction more telling than a denial.
“Mother, say it. Tell me you gave the order. Tell me it was you.”
“It was necessary, essential, to prevent Hawthorne from carrying out his research; it would have ruined everything.”
“Professor Hawthorne had just discovered something big, right? What was it? Why did he deserve to die?”
“Corine,” Philip interrupts my questioning. “I don’t believe this. Tell me he’s gone crazy. Tell me it isn’t true.” But it’s obvious to everyone in the room that Corine’s the crazy one right now.
