by Logan Keys
I frown.
“Simon might be keeping them a secret, so be careful who you tell.” He means Liza. “He’s dispatched them all so far, poor bastards, and he’s brought you in to help us actually hear out this new group.”
By dispatch, he means executed.
Why would Simon reject peace?
Easy answer: He wants Anthem.
Silence spreads until Nolan gets that look on his face where he wants to impart some sort of knowledge that maybe nobody knows but him. He knows it’ll be hard for me to leave her behind.
“Things were different when I went through boot, son.”
He takes a turn too sharply, making me rock in my seat.
Nolan nods to himself, warming up. “I started over at Fort Benning, and I was so afraid of heights, I would piss myself up those training zip lines. Just a little; not enough that you could notice.”
He makes sure I’m paying attention.
“The first sergeant, my drill instructor, was a green beret. Most days, he wore his kill hat with pride, but every once in a while, that son of a bitch would put on the ol’ beret, and even hang a cigar off-center in his mouth. He had a stare that could freeze a volcano.”
I guess there’s a point to this.
“I bet you’re wondering the point to this.”
I nod.
“They pushed me past my fear, past the pissing, and past what I knew I was capable of. Ya see, it wasn’t about me; not even a little. It wasn’t even about my pecker dribbling. It was about the mission.”
“The mission?”
“That’s right. I didn’t climb the towers to train because I’d worked up the courage. No, I climbed ’em because it would be my ass if I didn’t. Later, it would be the whole mission’s and team’s ass if I didn’t. I realized, when you faced something you weren’t ready to face, it wasn’t magically going to make you brave, just maybe more scared of not facing it.”
Nolan pulls up to a gate and flashes his ID to the guards, who let us into the center of the city that’s blocked off from the un-enlisted, from Liza. “We’ll have to get you one of these made, but we need to make a quick stop.”
He pushes the brake, then looks over at me. “You feel me, son?”
I consider what I’m more afraid of at the moment: the mission is to stay alive, to keep Liza safe.
I take a deep breath. “Yeah,” I say.
“You ready to meet your peers?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
We arrive at a building between the two tall towers, only this time, I’m on the other side of the fence for once.
When we enter, I see a long, oak table that seats dozens set in the center of the room, but the council’s only taken up the far end — Simon and the woman with the weird eyes, only she’s got her shades on, and across from her is Cory. Nolan and I take seats to either side from one another.
They continue the meeting as if we hadn’t even arrived.
“They’ve sent more ambassadors, just in time for the ball.”
Cory fixes one of his cuffs. “Karma sends them like they’re expendable. She must know that you’ll keep getting rid of the vermin.”
Medusa leans forward, shades shifting down her nose, giving us a peek at the glimmering jewels beneath. Everyone shrinks away. “I’d like to speak with them. The men in particular.” A vile grin stretches across her mouth. “I say we treat them, like we always have.”
She moves her finger across her throat, looking over at me.
No one argues with that.
I’m not going to stick my neck out for people who’d imprisoned me for a year and left me to rot, even if I am curious about what they’d offer.
Simon turns his head toward me, his hat shadowing his eyes. The room’s dark for a business meeting, though it fits the group’s mood just fine.
“We should hear them out,” Cory says, giving me a glance.
He’d read my thoughts. I grit my teeth, trying to focus on something else, especially anything that won’t lead back to my old room next to my old roommate.
When Simon looks at him, Cory shrugs.
“How are the projects coming?” Simon asks, but the question’s for Nolan.
Nolan clears his throat. “Chalberg should be here any — ”
The doors open, and the doctor walks in, as if on cue.
“Sorry I’m late.” Chalberg pulls his glasses off to clean them before sitting next to me. “Lots of progress.”
“On both?” Simon asks.
The doctor shifts, nervous. “Um, no. That’s, well, I wanted to … uh, maybe we should talk about this in priv — ”
“Spit it out.”
“We lost the girl.”
“What?” Simon slams a palm down onto the table. “I thought you said we’d gotten past that point with her?”
Chalberg sighs. “Well, no, not quite. I thought she’d be able to handle the stress test, but it turned out…”
Then it dawns on me: Simon’s still trying to make the perfect Special.
“So…” Simon sounds weary. “We’ve only got the one, then.”
“One will do,” Cory says, smiling in my direction.
I carefully keep my mind blank.
Cory’s simply too powerful to let loose. That’s why they keep him on the council. Everything makes sense to me now, as I sit, taking in most of the attendees. Medusa, Cory, me — we’re all pawns for Simon and the three most powerful. He’d made many Specials, but none such as us.
Simon believes his army is only missing one thing: his perfect Special. I figured he needed Adam and Eve for a race, but Cory had said it moments ago: “One will do.”
How many have died trying to be his dream? I remember the abuse Liza went through to become one, and I’d be willing to bet thousands have paid that same price.
“The ambassadors?” Nolan prods.
“I say we hear them out,” Cory repeats.
“Yes, we’ve heard your point,” Simon says. “And yours Adrian. Nolan, Chalberg, Hatter?”
“I’ve got no dog in that fight,” Chalberg says, scratching his head.
Nolan chimes in, “Can’t hurt to hear them out.”
I try to sound uninterested. “I’d need more info but, do we know what they offer?”
“What do you think they offer, big boy?” Adrian says. “Rainbows and kittens? Their offer is for us to become slaves in their puppet city, to be abused by their guards. But at least they’ll feed us.”
“I was just — ”
“She’s right,” Nolan says. “But hearing them out won’t mean we say yes.”
“I’d like to hear them all right,” she says, “with my eyes.”
Cory snidely jumps in, “You hate Karma, but if you ran things, Adrian, there wouldn’t be a man left among us, and you’d give us another false utopian promise of your own.”
“And if you did,” she snaps, “you’d make sure women were put in their place. Maybe make them mindless, controlled sex toys. Tell me, Cory” — she lets her shades slip, and her eyes light up — “how many wars have women started?”
I feel her gaze pulling me in, as does Cory, and we both stare into her eyes. The swirling sensation that starts in my middle chills me to the bone, and I have to fight to look away.
“Enough,” Simon demands, and she breaks the contact. “That’s exactly what Karma wants — for us to bicker, for the weather to wear us away. Karma sends her ambassadors, all done up with so much surgery they look like life-sized dolls, but in reality, know this: Karma was just as guilty as Reginald for the overreach the Authority’s dedicated their armies to. She’s as brutal as any man. She’s already started a war, as far as I’m concerned.” And he glares at Adrian.
Nolan sighs and updates me. “Anthem holds well over ten million people, not including the guards, and the island once held its equal, but they took one million to be purged, sick or not. Sure, they turn into zombies more often than not, but when the entire island is comprised of gua
rds, no one cares.”
Ten million people?
And one million guards to fight their war?
So our puny numbers in the hundreds of thousands, including the international armies that have joined us, are just that: puny.
The meeting goes on about other things, but all I can hear is that we’re outnumbered ten to one and I want to shout at them, “Then what are we even doing here?”
Simon believes in few things, but they are omnipresent in this war room. One: Anthem is his, by rights. Two: the perfect Special will help him defeat more than any millions of guards Three: we need to move closer to Anthem, despite how dangerous that would be.
If he knew about Liza…
I bite my lip to try to change my thoughts. I never know when Cory will be lurking.
Anthem belongs to the people, not to Simon. The perfect Special is sleeping right now in a bed of hair, and she can’t do a damned thing against millions of guards. Strong, yes. Smart, yes. But she’s done nothing that’s shown me she has that kind of power.
But I can’t say any of this. I’m the hero who’ll mobilize the troops to move against a much larger force. Me, some kind of false hope icon. Medusa can’t incite much other than fear, and Cory much other than derision. Nolan can only call on those who are fully human. Simon holds them, but I can already tell he’s losing his grip, and that’s why he needed me. That final push. The returned champion who says it can be done, and so it can.
“I’d like you to meet with the ambassadors, Hatter.”
“What?”
Simon has no interest in peace. I know this. This is a test of my loyalty.
“But before you do, let’s announce your addition to the council.”
I nod.
-69-
Cara’s cold when I finally let her go, and I’m so numb I don’t feel Toby’s hits trying to elicit a response — I don’t know if I’ll ever truly feel anything ever again. Cara had been the one who’d felt too much, enough for the both of us.
Toby takes me back to the tent, and I lie there, staring at a small hole in the roof for so long night falls. Why he hasn’t jumped on me while I’m prone on the sleeping bag, I don’t know. But neither do I really care.
He can do whatever he wants now. Everything that’s been my life is gone.
Nothing’s worth my anger anymore. She’s already left, and getting revenge won’t bring her back.
Commotion sounds outside of the tent, and I listlessly think how the vampires might have returned and how we might all die tonight, and just how grand that would be.
But hours later, Toby rips open the door and drags in a small thing made of alabaster skin and black hair. The little vampire girl.
She’s got arrows in her legs, arms, and even her neck. She’s still alive, though breathing loudly, raspy, and obviously very weak.
“We found this one trying to come into camp,” Toby says. “I’ll be going out to see if any more of them are gonna make a go at us.” He lifts the girl’s chin. “And I’ll be back to question you, you’d better believe it.”
He leaves. The camp’s quiet, and I suddenly realize he hasn’t tied me up or anything. I could run, go back to Ironwood, but that’s pointless without Cara.
As if she’s read my mind, the girl’s rasping forms into words that sound like, “I’m sorry about your friend.”
I stay still, staring at the rip in the tent.
After a time, she whispers so softly, I think I made it up in my head: “If you help me, I will help you kill him.”
I say nothing, do nothing. Only hours ago, I would have jumped at the chance. Now, there’s just an empty feeling where rage should be.
Slowly, as if she’s made of molasses, the girl lifts her arm and removes the stake from her neck. The hole in her perfect skin closes up, and she sighs. “That’s better.” Then she adds, “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
I thought she was talking about Cara before, but she’d meant Joseph. She hadn’t meant to kill Joe, and I believe her. She’d attacked him only after he’d attacked her. We all assumed she’d killed Cutter, but after meeting Pike, it’d become clear she hadn’t been with them.
“You could leave,” she says. “Go to the city.”
City?
Curiosity wakes me from my stupor. “Anthem?” I breathe.
“No. The army’s in LA. The Underground’s there, in full force.”
I turn onto my side. The army?
“Why aren’t you there?” I ask her.
“Because I have to clean up the mess I made. There’s a connection between him and I. Each pain he inflicts, I feel, and until I’ve rectified my wrongdoing, I, too, will suffer.”
I think for a moment, then finally say, “Pike.”
“Yes.” She looks close to tears, and I realize just how young she is. After she regains control of herself, she says, “He was an accident. I was wounded during an explosion, and I was almost dead when he found me. I bit him without being in my right mind — so hungry. He turned all the rest, and I’ve got to put it right.”
“Who bit you?”
“No one.”
“Ah, the Underground. I heard they were making super soldiers out of the people they’d recruited. So they’re in LA now?”
Could it be possible? Could there be someone I still care about left on this godforsaken planet? Could they be so close?
“Yes,” she says quietly. “Dallas … or should I say … Daisy. You’ve got to go to LA. For us both.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I wasn’t sure at first, but when Pike attacked you, you spoke in your sleep. You said his name so many times, I couldn’t miss it.”
“His name?”
“Yes. You know who I’m talking about. Tommy told me all about you. And, Daisy? You’ve got to try to find him, tell him we’re still alive … that Joelle’s still alive.”
-70-
“I don’t like this idea,” Leo says.
I flip a hand. “You were the one who told me the international armies practiced and trained in the private sector,” I reply. “I’m going crazy without Tommy to talk to.” And I worry Bradford will return. “I should learn how to protect myself. Let’s just watch.”
“If Baby knew I took you down here, she’d — ”
“What? Tell me to sit alone in that apartment for the rest of my days? Where is she, anyway?”
“She had some business inside the compound.”
“Really? They let her in there?”
He avoids my gaze.
“So tell me your story, Leo. The truth this time, please.”
He’s the weakest link of their set. Of him and Baby, that is. “I’m uh, well, to be honest — and Baby seems to think we can, with you all — I’m trying to get to…” He glances around, then whispers, “Anthem.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Why?”
Leo shrugs. “I have family there.”
“Can’t you just go?”
He laughs, shakes his head. “No. Not anymore. They don’t let anyone in, so … but I think I’ve found a way around that.”
I put my hand on his arm, stopping him. “You mean the Skulls?”
“Shh! Are you crazy? Yes, them. But don’t let anyone hear you mention them.”
“Okay, sorry,” I say, sighing inwardly.
So it looks like Leo and I might take the same trip together, if I ever decide to make good on Phillip’s offer.
We walk to a side of the city I haven’t been to before. Leo calls it “World International Camp,” or WIC.
When we arrive, I’m astounded. This is the place where armies from all over the world have gathered — well, what’s left of them. Some are as large as tens of thousands, others as small as two, and still others are non-existent, but someone has raised their flags in homage. Extinct. The thought of entire countries having not one person left is hard to accept.
We get to the row of leaders. Their buildings are Spartan, their uniforms vary from fancy dr
ess wear to utilitarian camouflage, and they eye us as obvious civilians.
We’ve gone nearly a mile, and the tents and buildings continue — Asian, European, Middle Eastern, African, and then there are the people of the Isles, and so on.
I stop in the middle at the sight of a giant red flag, the lion on it bringing something akin to homesickness. Great Britain. Without thinking, I walk to the open door to peek inside, where two men sit talking over maps, until I realize they’ve got a chess set between them.
“My rook to your knight.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Are you sure that…”
“Oh — hello.”
Their accents — the richness, the politeness. I could almost weep at how they stand for me as I enter.
“Hello,” I say, and the one on the left grins, while the other one’s mouth drops open.
The taller of the two says, “We’d thought we’d seen all of us. Have you been here long?”
The other nudges his shoulder. “She’s been here since she arrived with the other one.”
“What do you mean?”
“The two travelers we’ve heard so much about.”
The taller nods in understanding. “So she’s the spy, then?” He grins.
His friend lifts a hand in a gesture of apology, one brow reaching toward his hairline, while the first continues, “A bit small for a scary spy?”
Leo coughs behind me.
“I’m sorry. Where are our manners? I’m Lieutenant Dawson, and this is Sergeant Penn. But you can call me Charles, and this is Devon.”
“Liza,” I say. “And this is Leo. We’ve come to watch the training.”
Charles lifts a decanter. “Have time for a drink?”
Devon raises a hand. “She can’t be a day over seventeen.”
Charles pours a glass, then hands it to me. “Old enough to be a spy. Old enough to drink. Cheers.”
I laugh and take a sip. Warmth bleeds from my center outwards, and in only a few moments, I feel quite invincible. They give me a second glass.
“So, how long have you worked with the Underground?” I ask.
The two share a look, offer us seats. We all sit, and they speak carefully, keeping their eyes on the door.
“I’m not sure ‘work with’ is the right term,” Devon begins. “We know some of our people are in Anthem and share a common goal with the Underground to get there.”
