“And it’s only getting worse,” Lakshanya responded, with certainty but not despair. “Ghosts are getting bolder. We don’t know if the beacons are deteriorating or if Tartarus’ effect is intensifying. The sad fact is, the contagion is spreading, and we’ve been unable to decisively stop it.”
“I am, as always, open to suggestions. I’m sure you have them.”
“Of course. We’ve been unable to stop it…until now.” Lakshanya smiled. “Watch.”
She pressed a button on the side of the display counter, and every beacon light went out, like candles snuffed by a sudden wind. Shiloh felt a sudden pang of alarm and xir stomach dropped. After growing up with the constant illumination of beacons and barriers, there was something viscerally terrifying about sudden darkness.
But soon it became clear that the light wasn’t entirely gone, because xie could just barely see Lakshanya’s face, illuminated from below in an eerie purple. She held up one finger, then pointed back down at the display to reveal the change.
The beacon lights had changed from plain white to neon violet. And now instead of general light, they projected thick, arcing purple beams that connected each of the towers. Not just in a ring around the Tartarus Zone, but crisscrossing it, each tower reaching to each of the others, and curving up in a dome until it formed a net over it, containing the storms within.
“Is this…” Rishika took a step closer, eyes lit up by the beams and what might be hope.
“Yes.” Lakshanya’s smile grew. “We’ve been using plain light based on halogen gas so far. But my modifications will alter it to a specific wavelength on the visual spectrum, proven to be hundreds of times more effective. The web itself will be invisible.”
“Ultraviolet. Of course.” Her tone was hushed, admiring, and a little self-amused, as if she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself.
“Not exactly, but close enough,” Lakshanya amended. “Actual UV rays at the required strength would be deadly to human life—most forms of life, actually. I’d rather not have us all develop cancerous lesions. This was our primary concern and biggest puzzle, but I’m proud to say we’re at full power and no risk for that. I’ve also assigned one of our most dedicated and reliable crews,” she added, voice casual as if it were an afterthought, but she looked up from her model to watch her mother’s face.
“Which one is that?” Rishika asked, but still seemed absorbed in the demonstration.
“The FireRunner,” Lakshanya said just as casually, and now her eyes flicked over to Annie, Indra, and Shiloh. Annie turned toward her, eyes widening, but said nothing, soon looking away again to hide her reaction. Shiloh was once again glad for xir dark glasses that hid xir own surprise. “I figured the project could use their experience and expertise. They should be around halfway done right now.”
“A good choice,” Rishika said, not looking up but sounding thoughtful instead of simply impressed. “I know the captain well. They’ll get the job done.”
“Quickly and safely,” Lakshanya agreed. “This barrier will stop the spread of Tartarus contagions and the ghosts inside with no damage to the surrounding environment.”
As they watched, the ever-present central storm gradually dissipated, until there was nothing left inside the ring of beacons but calm air. The bleached land slowly regained its natural color.
“This is a time-lapse demonstration, of course. The real process will take years, even decades. But I’m confident that with consistent monitoring and care…recovery is possible.”
“Oh, my darling…” Rishika’s eyes grew wider, bright with excitement.
“This is what you’ve been working on this whole time?” Indra asked a little breathlessly. “This is amazing!”
Lakshanya nodded. “It’s been a long time coming. You might call this my star project.”
“Our girl is a wonder,” Bhanu said proudly, obviously tearing up. “He’d be so proud. I’m so proud. We’ve suffered so much pain—I believe now we’ll turn a corner.”
“That’s the plan,” Lakshanya smiled, her own eyes shining. “One of many. I simply can’t wait to put them into motion—not just for the Tartarus Zone, but for our family as well! Things are going to get better, I can feel it, and if we all work together we can start to heal our lives, and the world. I believe this with all my heart.”
“Listen to you, talking about healing the world! After all that’s happened. If it were anyone else, Lakshanya, I’d call them raving mad!” Bhanu laughed, the first spark of pure joy returning to his tired eyes. All the while, he couldn’t help glancing back at Indra and a smile kept creeping across his worn face, lighting it up anew whenever he looked at his son. “But seeing this? And now Indra back with us? I think I can start to believe you.”
“Thank you,” Lakshanya whispered, and now she blinked hard, her eyes shining for a different reason. “Thank you for believing in me. I know we can make a difference in—”
“So what's the plan for Parole?” Annie spoke up. Silently, every head in the room turned to look at her.
“What?” The smile faded from Lakshanya’s hopeful face. For the first time, she looked distinctly nervous. “The Tartarus Zone has been my primary focus. It will help everybody affected by these terrible disasters.”
“What about Parole?” Annie pressed. “What are you doing about the collapse? The barrier’s still up, thousands of people are still trapped in there, and they need help!”
“The ‘collapse?’” Rishika asked, taking her first long, undivided look at the strange girl who knew too much.
Annie shrugged in what looked like an attempt to look casual, but the motion was jerky and stiff. Her eyes were narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down, hands slowly curling into fists. “I just want someone to actually help.”
“We will, of course.” Rishika spread her hands. “Radiance’s primary aim is to ascertain the exact nature of the poison ravaging the Midwest and provide relief to its victims.”
“So what about the Parole quarantine?” Annie pressed, sticking her hands in her pockets as they began to shake “And the soldiers there, killing people?”
“You seem to know a great deal about the situation.” Rishika observed. Nobody was even pretending not to listen or stare anymore. “Perhaps even more than me. I wasn’t aware of soldiers killing anyone.”
“Well, they are.”
“Um, hey,” Indra spoke up, voice unnaturally high-pitched. “Maybe we shouldn’t, uh—can we not—”
“No, let your friend speak.” Rishika shook her head. “Although I hope she listens as well. Radiance Technologies is responsible for saving more lives than any other independent group in the history of the United States. Our current project is Tartarus, unraveling its mystery and healing its catastrophic damage.”
“By ignoring Parole and letting everyone there die?”
“Annie, no!” Indra hissed through clenched teeth.
“Let her speak,” his mother said again, slowly. “I’m listening.”
“The relief you’re talking about?” Annie said in a low, rasping voice that didn’t sound like her own. “It’s not getting there. Not enough, anyway. Water, medicine, food—you’re sending it, but we’re not getting nearly enough.” She looked up, directly into Rishika’s eyes, then Bhanu’s, then Lakshanya’s, then back up at Rishika. “And people are dying.”
“How did you come to know all this?” Rishika asked, studying her very carefully. “And what did you say your name was?”
“Anh Minh is an independent contractor,” Lakshanya said hurriedly. “One of several I work with directly while overseeing relief efforts to Parole’s survivors. If there’s a problem with our system, I want to hear it.”
“You do?” Annie wasn’t looking at her, but her mother.
“Absolutely, I do,” Lakshanya said nonetheless, gesturing for her to follow as she stepped toward the door. Please, Anh Minh, come with—”
“No,” Rishika shook her head. “I’d like to
hear this as well.”
“I just told you.” Now it was Annie’s turn to stare at Rishika in confusion and disbelief. “Parole’s still quarantined, everything fell into the fire a whole month ago, people are still trapped inside, and help. Isn’t. Getting. Through. You’re supposed to be in charge here, how could you not know any of this?”
“I will admit that Parole has been…” Rishika trailed off. Did not finish the sentence. Her eyes drifted out of focus. Like her son, she had moments where vulnerability shone through, raw and real, and her composure faded, leaving only sadness and fatigue. But soon, she made her eyes re-focus and looked directly into Annie’s. “You must understand; the problem is so much bigger and more deadly than just one city. Tartarus has absorbed my attention for good reason. This monstrous contamination threatens us all. Parole may simply be casualty in a greater war. It’s tragic, but sometimes we must mourn and move on.”
“We can’t move on,” Annie said flatly. “Not while we’re still trapped and burning.”
A shadow crossed Rishika’s face—another momentary crack in her armor. But then it passed, and she was looking at Annie with a new resolution, as if she’d made the decision to reveal one more layer. “You’re right about one thing. This ‘collapse,’ as you call it, may be dangerous beyond measure. If the barrier were damaged, and anyone escapes into the general population, if it spreads…we have to be prepared for the worst possible outcome.”
“What outcome?” Annie asked quietly.
“Overwhelming loss of life, of course,” Rishika replied calmly. Her voice never rose above soft conversational tones that still carried through the entire large room. “A disaster far worse than Tartarus and its plagues. You have no idea of what Parole’s citizens are capable.”
Shiloh held very still and said nothing. Xie was afraid even to breathe.
Annie clearly had no such fears. “Parole isn’t dangerous. It’s full of good people, and they don’t deserve to be hurt or killed or forgotten or ignored—and they definitely don’t deserve Major Turret, or Lieutenant Sharpe, or anything else!”
“Guys,” Indra cut before anyone could respond, sounding increasingly desperate. “Fighting about all of this, when we should be…” he gestured helplessly. “Is this what Mihir would want?”
Shiloh didn’t recognize the name, but it was impossible to miss the instant effect it had on everyone in the room. Rishika and Bhanu looked as if they were in physical pain at the sound of it. While Annie kept her mouth shut, her eyes did go wide, as if she’d suddenly remembered something terrible. And Indra just stared at the floor.
“We don’t know what Mihir would want,” Bhanu said quietly and every head except Indra’s turned toward him. He’d been so still and quiet during the heated exchange they’d almost forgotten he was there. “Did you forget why we cannot ask him?”
“No, I…” Indra didn’t look up. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“When I saw you tonight, I had some hope.” Bhanu stared at his son, voice barely above a dry whisper. His eyes were wide, whites around their irises stark. “I thought surely you’d come back because this nightmare was over. And that after this we would go home and remember him. And begin to heal.”
“Dad,” Indra whispered, slowly shaking his head. “Dad, I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s all right, Indra,” Rishika said, and when she looked at him her eyes were warm, along with her voice. “We’re very glad you’re safe. Please don’t let grief and pain make you forget that. Make any of us forget that.” She glanced at her husband. Then, folding her hands, Rishika turned back to her guests. “I am…truly sorry you are seeing us like this. We have something of a personal interest in Parole, as well as a professional one. Our eldest son was one of the first lost there.” She spoke with dignity as if she’d rehearsed these words countless times.
In the silence that followed, Bhanu drew in a long, shaking breath. “Parole is a monster that eats the good people that try to help it. It took his life and all of us along with him. It didn’t deserve Mihir and it doesn’t deserve you.”
“We should go,” Shiloh said quietly. “We are so, so sorry. Indra, we’ll be out—”
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head, eyes wide. “Don’t move. I knew this would happen the second we stepped in here. Just stay with me, please.”
“It still stands, they still live, and he is gone,” Bhanu whispered. “My son is gone, and they still—”
“It’s what he wanted,” Indra said slowly. “He said he had to—”
“Indra, please!” Bhanu shook his head, slowly at first, then faster. “If Mihir had listened, if he had stayed safe at home, if he’d never heard of it, Parole or that—that Syndicate—he would still be alive!”
“Dad,” Indra said, voice shaking. “I’m—”
“They’ve already taken one son from us!” Bhanu cried. “As he was trying to save them! My beautiful, kind, brilliant son, dead—for being too generous! He is gone and for what? For scorched earth, fire, and poison! His murderers still living and that place, that city, still standing above it all!”
Rishika moved then, closing the distance between her husband and herself, arms wrapping around him. She said something into his ear that none of them could hear, eyes flicking to Indra. He buried his head in her shoulder and sobbed, holding her very tightly.
Shiloh stared at them without seeing them. Xir brain had ground to a halt several seconds back, and xie hadn’t heard anything that came after. After that single, innocuous word from Indra’s father, nothing else existed. By the time xie rejoined the present and prepared to ask, someone had beaten xir to it.
“Syndicate?” Annie whispered. When Shiloh slowly turned to look at her, she was very pale and looked as disoriented as xie felt.
“Dad—I’m sorry!” Indra hadn’t heard her, or noticed Shiloh’s reaction. His pleading eyes were fixed on his father and suddenly he looked very young. “I’m sorry I left. But I had to. I just had to see—”
“See what, Indra?” Bhanu slowly shook his head. “Why this fascination with that damned place? All it does is take, and take—it steals the best people we have, the best of our lives.”
“No it doesn’t!” Annie shook off her shocked paralysis and nearly shouted the words. “Turret does! He’s got his own private army and the whole city just collapsed into a lake of fire like we knew it would for years and nobody is listening—”
“Major Turret has been nothing but an ally, to Parole and Radiance both,” Rishika said firmly, mouth a straight line. “If there was a danger, I would have been informed.”
“How can you trust him?” Annie stared at her, uncomprehending.
“Because he knows what that place does.” Bhanu’s voice was much softer, but still cut through the increasingly heated exchange. “He lost a son there as well. And a wife, a whole family gone. Nobody has more reason to care.”
“He didn’t lose his whole family!” Annie retorted and proceeded to say what Shiloh was thinking but would never say out loud under the circumstances. “His daughter’s alive, we saw her just a couple days ago.”
“Brianna? Yes, she’s a Radiance volunteer, I believe,” Rishika said with increasing incredulity and disbelief. “She alone survived because of her father’s bravery and he is very proud of her—and grateful.” She cast a bittersweet glance toward her own children. “We all are.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be.” Annie pulled her hands out of her pockets just to fold them across her chest. “He’s lying. He didn’t lose his son. Liam Turret is alive and well—actually he’s not that great, he’s arrogant, and annoying, and nosy, and nobody really likes or trusts him or his dad. But he’s fine.”
“What did you say?” Rishika stared at her, eyes widening.
“I’m telling you the truth.” Annie stared right back, unblinking. “If Turret told you his son was dead, he lied to you. And I bet he’s done it a lot more times.”
“David Turret told us the truth wh
en no one else would.” Rishika’s eyes narrowed and her skepticism hardened into a steely defense. “He gave us a name. The CyborJ Syndicate.”
Shiloh felt as if xie’d been punched in the chest. Xie couldn’t say a word, or for a moment, breathe.
“Then he took the burden of Parole from my shoulders,” Rishika continued in the same calm, cold tone. “And allowed me to leave it behind. He swore to bring the Syndicate to justice. And to protect, monitor, and resolve Parole: a volatile and deadly place where his own family lost their lives, so that mine could withdraw, and perhaps someday heal.”
“And that is the place you want to go,” Bhanu said, looking at Indra with more despair than Shiloh had ever seen on a person’s face. “A doomed city, ruled by murderers and burning to the ground. As well it should. But it need not take you with it!”
“I have to know what he was thinking. I have to see what he saw!” Indra clenched his teeth but a sob choked out anyway. Shiloh’s heart was pounding; no matter what Indra said, this was something xie should not witness—none of them should be seeing this—but xie was paralyzed into awful silence.
“Is that why you left?” Bhanu sounded bowled over. Then he almost laughed. “You will never see what he saw, because if there was anything good in that place, it died the moment he did. None of us can know his mind. Because he is not here to ask. But you are! You’re finally home—”
“And I’m starting to remember why I couldn’t stay here another minute!” Indra nearly yelled. “Everywhere I looked I saw Mihir. You and Mom and Shanni fighting all the time about who did it or if we should even think about Parole anymore. Everybody keeps saying we have to move on, but nobody moves on! Ever! I definitely can’t, not like this! How am I supposed to just forget everything?”
“That wasn’t what I meant.” Rishika shook her head. “I would never ask you to forget your brother. None of us would. We only wanted—”
“I had to go,” Indra said vehemently. He sighed, shook his head. “And I couldn’t stop wondering why he did it, it’s all I thought about. I just had to see Parole for myself.”
The Lifeline Signal Page 10
