Trees thinned out. Abandoned cars dotted the sides of the road, rusted and sun-scorched frames stripped of paint and lying bare like metal dinosaur bones. They crossed a bridge and the sluggish stream below was black. The ground hardened and slowly bleached a pale white. Shadows from the rare, bare and leafless trees stood out like charcoal drawings, reminding Shiloh of radioactive landscapes after a nuclear blast, how shadows got etched in permanently.
They stopped for water under the shade of an eerily silent highway overpass, a tiny island of relief from the beating sun. Annie often kept her helmet on, even when she wasn’t driving, and this time she put it back on immediately after she was done with her drink.
“From here on in, we should keep these on as much as possible,” she said, urgency sharpening the edge of her voice. “And make sure your filters are on.”
“Didn’t think we were close enough for bad air yet,” Chance mumbled, one of the first complete sentences he’d said all morning. Something last night had shaken him out of his groove and he hadn’t quite regained his animated energy. “You know something we don’t?”
“Tartarus’ edges shift all the time. And we don’t have a shield. Until we do, we just shouldn’t take any chances… Chance.”
“Very funny. You’re hilarious,” he groused, and jammed his helmet back on his head as if tired of looking at both of them. Shiloh felt a mild tinge of worry as xie and Annie exchanged a glance and it wasn’t for the first time. This didn’t seem normal even in their waking reality. In dreams, Chance’s energy was kinetic, playful, quick and infectious as his smile.
“We have to make some serious miles if we wanna beat the sun.” Annie shook it off and took a few steps away, shielding her eyes as she cast another glance at the sky. “Once I get the shield installed, we’ll leave the highway, be able to go at least twice as fast—and then we’ll hope it’s enough to keep out some vapors and ghosts.” She let her hand drop and turned away. “A good one will even keep out bullets.”
“So what’s the plan with Radiance?” Shiloh asked, not at all sure about the next step. “Your friend will really just give us a shield?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’ve never met her in person—it’s really Kari who took care of all this stuff. Kari and Ash, or Celeste.”
“Celeste?” Shiloh repeated; that was a new name from Annie, but xie had heard it before. “Kari said that name on the radio last night.”
“Right,” Annie grimaced, as if she’d just remembered something discouraging. “Celeste was—I guess you’d call her like an intelligence expert? And negotiator, kind of? She used to handle stuff like this, whenever we needed to know something or get something, she’d just… make it happen. She disappeared in the collapse, along with half of Parole. Now that she’s gone, we’re all picking up the slack.”
“Think we can still make this happen?” Shiloh was already trying to think of alternatives, any kind of backup if this one fell through. Unfortunately, xie was in so far over xir head xie didn’t even know how deep the water was anymore. Xie had nothing.
“Radiance has helped us enough in the past. They should still help.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll figure out another option,” Annie said in the grim kind of tone that said she’d allow no arguments, because she had no other options after this one.
“Listen, Annie…” Chance sighed and his shoulders dropped. Both she and Shiloh turned to look as he took his helmet back off to look her in the eye. This was one of the first times he’d spoken today. “Lakshanya will help us.”
Annie slowly turned to fully face him. “You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shut his eyes and pressed down on them too. Shiloh had done that often enough when xir head threatened to split in two. But the next words made it clear that this pain wasn’t physical. “She’ll help her brother.”
“Indra?” Instead of narrowing in anything like accusation, Annie’s eyes went very wide. “All this time?”
“Yeah.” He gave a listless little wave. “Hi there.”
“It’s been a year since he—you disappeared!”
“You heard about that?” He sounded a little surprised, but still didn’t look at her. “Parole doesn’t know who’s president, but you heard about me running away?”
“Yeah, it was kind of a big deal! Everyone thought you died! You ran away?” She waited. When he said nothing, she kept pulling teeth. “And you’ve been here all along?”
“Well, not here. A lot of different places. Trying to find Parole. Didn’t have a whole lot of luck until the dreams started.”
“Indra Chandrasekhar…” Shiloh said under xir breath, trying the name out as xie worked to place it. Xie couldn’t remember it from waking life, or any recent time. But it pulled at the back of xir brain, not just into a dream, but ten years. “How did you keep this from us?”
He didn’t look up. “Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you in the dark. At first, I mean. Just couldn’t think of a way to bring it up. Then it just kind of happened.”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m almost impressed. It couldn’t have been easy. It almost took all of my energy just to get anything to make sense. To keep back that big a secret…”
“Didn’t really mean to, actually.” He shrugged, looking away. “I push painful shit into the back of my mind when I’m awake. Guess being asleep’s no different. I kinda liked the name ‘Chance’ anyway. It was fun.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell us? Everyone in Parole knows your—”
“There. That. That’s exactly why, right there!” His head whipped up and now his eyes were open and filled with an intensity neither of the other two had ever seen in them before. “Everyone knows my family, and everyone knows my… brother’s name,” he looked away again. “Not my name.”
“This would be why you didn’t want to stop by Radiance?” Annie asked, a much calmer counterpoint to Indra’s sudden flare.
“It would be. Kind of hard to keep that particular secret with my sister standing right there, yeah.”
“Feel like telling us anything else?”
A beat of silence. “No.”
Annie sighed. “You still want us to call you Chance, or…?”
“No. Indra is fine.” He closed his eyes and folded his arms. Shiloh thought his shoulders were shaking. “If you’re still with me when we get there, that’s all you’ll hear anyway.”
“If we’re still…?” Annie shook her head firmly. “You have a lot of explaining to do, yeah, but I’m not about to just cut you loose.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, nodding slowly while still looking at the ground. “Okay. So. Let’s just go. We won’t have any trouble getting in, but I should probably call ahead first. I haven’t been home for a while.”
When Shiloh got back on the bike, Chance—Indra Chandrasekhar—wrapped his arms around xir waist and buried his face in xir back. He stayed that way for a long time.
Chicago’s barrier bubble was a marvel. They all were, magnificent shields that arced over major cities and protected them from airborne Tartarus vapors while the main beacon ring, and smaller city beacons, repelled rogue ghost activity. Maureen Cole had mixed feelings about their construction for years, the lives they saved by design, the thousands in Parole trapped by their misuse. The way the gleaming bubbles had become iconic, visible even from miles away. So even as Annie brought the motorcycle to a stop in front of their destination, Shiloh caught a glimpse of the barrier overhead, and froze. Xie couldn’t help remembering Maureen’s clashing pride and shame, wondering if she could see one like it from wherever she was right now.
When xie finally took a step, xie almost ran right into Annie. She was staring too, but not at the barrier. Her eyes were fixed on the bright glass towers of this upscale corporate district like they were the strangest things she’d ever seen, in a world full of strange things.
“You okay?” xi
e asked gently, trying to get her attention without startling her.
“Yeah,” she nodded after the moment it took for the words to get through to her. “Everything’s just really… clean.” As they moved, she kept turning her head to stare at things like the smooth, well-maintained sidewalks, undamaged cars, and people walking by like they’d never once felt the ground crumbling beneath them or felt the touch of flames. Then they stopped at the brightly lit, large sign outside one of the tall, modern buildings. “Radiance Relief Coordination Center” gleamed in polished brass.
A few hours earlier, Indra had stared at his emergency cell phone and made himself dial a number, doing his best to keep his hands from shaking. The wait for an answer was interminable, every ring making it harder not to just hang up and call the whole thing off. He was about a half-second away from doing so when someone picked up on the other line. The conversation that followed was whispered, awkward, and very short. But afterwards, they had a plan.
Now Indra led the way up the marble stairs leading to the large glass building in front of them, hands in his pockets and head hanging low. He hadn’t said a word except to direct Annie to the Radiance HQ building and now headed directly for the entrance again without speaking, steps quick but mechanical as if he were forcing himself to get this over with as soon as possible.
The sliding glass doors reflected the glare of the setting sun, obscuring what lay inside. So, when they slid open, it was Indra’s turn to come to a hasty halt, step aside, and mumble an apology as someone emerged.
The man who strode from the Radiance lobby didn’t change course or break his stride as the three teenagers hurried to get out of his way. His steps were slow but their unerring rhythm suggested he would have happily bowled them all over and just kept walking. He kept his hands hidden in his pockets, elbows sticking out at angles that made them all give him a wide berth or risk collison. He wore a grey-camo SkEye uniform and short-cropped brown hair, just like any other of the dozens, maybe hundreds of Eye in the Sky paramilitary officers and volunteers. There were only two reasons this average-height, average-build, white, uniformed man stood out to them at all.
First, it was rare to see these uniforms inside a city bubble. SkEye operations visible to civilians were small, and usually took place outside, guarding against ghostly advances. Nobody witnessed their major operations—but nobody saw Parole itself either.
The second reason they noticed this man was that he clearly noticed them.
Even at his leisurely pace, it didn’t even take a full second for him to pass by. But that was all the time his sharp, bright blue eyes needed. As the man’s eyes flicked from Annie’s helmet over to xir face, Shiloh had the strangest feeling that they were all being evaluated and felt a sudden surge of panic. Being under his penetrating gaze felt like being studied under a microscope, or caught in a hunter’s crosshairs. The urge to escape was almost overpowering, and now it was a struggle to stand xir ground instead of run.
But the man didn’t say a word or stop moving. His only reaction was a small, tight-lipped smile Shiloh couldn’t even be sure xie’d seen, the same way xie couldn’t be sure if it was xir imagination the man had eyed Indra for just a fraction longer. It was too fast, too subtle to know for sure before he turned his head and continued on his way.
Still, xir heart was pounding as the man reached the sidewalk and turned a corner, disappearing as suddenly as he’d appeared. That was xir first close encounter with an Eye in the Sky officer since Major Turret’s occasional, unexpected visits and they barely counted. They’d been cold, always with a threatening undercurrent, but civil.
This man’s gaze almost felt predatory. When he’d fixed his eyes on them, what had he seen?
But he was gone now, and they’d come here for a reason. Shaking off the unnerving encounter, the small group continued into a spacious foyer with marble floors and bright, gleaming surfaces that almost seemed like a luxurious hotel rather than an office building’s lobby. Not for the first time, Shiloh was glad for xir sunglasses.
Suddenly Indra stopped dead again, not moving when the other two came up level and moved past him, looking back to see him frozen. This time, he didn’t even seem aware of their presence, like someone had hit ‘pause’ on the playback of his life, while the rest of the world continued around him. Annie and Shiloh turned to see what had captured every bit of his attention.
A young woman stood with her back to them, straight and tall in the center of the wide open floor, giving directions to two assistants with clipboards in clear, measured tones; something about restorative functioning, beyond expectations. The two others hurried away, leaving her alone—she watched them go, but didn’t move or turn, waiting. From behind it looked like she wore a fancy ballroom gown or something with about as many ruffles, strange for an office setting, but Shiloh’s attention was more caught by Indra’s powerful reaction. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. Silently he sucked in a breath.
“Shanni?” When he spoke it was in a whisper.
His voice was soft, but the echo from the excellent acoustics was enough to catch the young woman’s attention. She turned around and looked up, eyes going wide. This had to be Lakshanya Chandrasekhar, but Shiloh had always envisioned somebody older whenever someone had talked about the head of Radiance relief operations. She wore heavy eyeliner and dark makeup, her short black hair swept at an asymmetrical angle. But despite the superficial differences, her features were strikingly familiar. If she’d been smiling—or, at the moment, wearing an expression of unabashed awe—she’d have looked a lot like Indra.
He raised his hands as if expecting to pluck the right words out of the air, then turned them toward her as if presenting her to a captive audience of one. Now a smile did spread across his face, tentative and crooked, but genuine. “You cut your hair.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, broken by the girl giving a soft gasp, and then she rushed forward to meet them; arms flying around Indra’s neck and pulling him close.
“Indra!” she breathed; hand on the back of his head and fingers running through his hair. She held him so tightly the air rushed from his lungs and it was a moment before he recovered enough to hug her back. “Is that all you’re going to say to me?”
“I’m so sorry, Shanni.” His voice was muffled as he buried his face in her shoulder, so it was difficult to tell if it broke or not. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Hush,” she said firmly. After a moment, she held him at arm’s length so she could look into his face. His eyes were much redder than they had been a moment ago and his breath caught in his throat. He looked like he’d just been awoken from a bad dream to find himself safe in his room, but still disoriented, half-caught under a nightmare’s spell. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
Her hand came up to cup his cheek and smooth away hair from a face that looked, in profile, almost identical to hers. They were mirror images of one another, almost certainly twins. But there were differences as well as similarities, and not just because of the clothes or makeup. Maybe it was the heeled boots and corset she was probably wearing, but she stood straighter than Indra’s easy slouch. Her expressions were clearer, eye contact more direct than his often tuned-out or flippant glances. If he was a feather on the breeze, she was a knife cutting through the nonsense, right to the chase.
“I—we really didn’t have to meet here,” he said, glancing around the glass foyer, the clean corporate facades and smooth glass surfaces. He shifted uncomfortably, as if afraid his shoes would stain the gleaming floor. “We don’t wanna just barge in on your—”
“Nonsense.” She shook her head, fixing him with a firm gaze. “You called me asking for help. Said it was an emergency. What did you expect me to do, make us meet under some bridge in a thunderstorm at midnight?”
“Well, I dunno, an anonymous place might be safer.” He shrugged, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Less chance of getting ambushed, or spotted, or traced som
e other way. Actually, the bridge thing might be better.”
The young woman rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Be more dramatic, Indra.”
“You’re the one who looks like Lydia from Beetlejuice.” He smirked now, taking in her deep violet eyeshadow and lipstick, the tiered velvet skirt and petticoat, the shining black lace-up boots. This was why she looked out of place for a corporate work setting; instead of a day job, she looked like she might have just stepped out of a sumptuous oil portrait that would hang in the parlor of a haunted manor. Or from the neon purple accents, maybe a rave. “What is…going on here?”
“Classic high Victorian gothic,” she chided, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “I thought you of all people would appreciate a good aesthetic.”
“I do! I mean, it’s just kind of different.” He tilted his head, taking in the meticulously arranged layers of lace at one sleeve. “Last time I saw you, you were rocking the cyberpunk look. Didn’t expect you to roll back the clock five hundred years. Not that it’s a bad thing! I like it, I do. It’s very…dark.”
She studied him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was making fun of her or not—then seemed to decide she didn’t care. “Thank you. I felt it was time for a change, so I made one. Enough’s certainly happened to us; I thought it was about time I was actually in control of something.”
He smiled like he was about to make some other joke, but changed his mind halfway through. “It looks nice. Sad, but nice. Good look on you.”
“Thank you, Indra,” she said without further question. Her dark eyebrows came together. “Or are you still going by—”
“Chance? No, don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “Miss me?”
“Yes. So much.” She was smiling now, wide and warm. Even her voice was a contrast to her brother’s. Where his was fast, expressive and with a natural Western-neutral American, she spoke in a calm, measured cadence and a slight but decidedly present Tamil accent. When her dark eyes were on her brother they were warm and wide, taking him all in as if trying to memorize his features, afraid he would disappear again. But after a few seconds of giving him her undivided attention, she made herself look up at the other two.
The Lifeline Signal Page 8
