“And did you?” Bhanu sounded caught between grim laughter at an impossible notion, and fear that it might not be impossible after all.
“No,” Indra said, suddenly calm. “I tried, the entire time I was gone, I was trying. Might have made it if there weren’t SkEye barricades and armed soldiers keeping anyone from getting within fifty miles! And everyone who isn’t SkEye, or us, thinks it’s just a toxic ruin thanks to Tartarus. Real convenient excuse. Not a whole lot of planes, trains, or anything else heading that way.”
“Because regardless of its condition, Parole is dangerous,” Rishika said without a trace of doubt. “The area itself was grievously effected by the Tartarus blast; it wouldn’t matter whether it’s standing or not—”
“It’s standing,” Annie said with the same immediate confidence. “And it hasn’t been poisoned at all. People are alive in there, you know they are, or else why would you send relief?”
“Nobody here is denying Parole is alive,” Rishika said, remaining calm with what had to be a great deal of effort. “But that situation is stable, and we must focus our attention on a greater concern, the Tartarus—”
“It’s not a greater concern!” Annie snapped, anger finally flaring without restraint. “It’s a distraction! A lie! Turret lied to you, now you’re lying to everybody else, and while all that’s going on, we’re all dying! And we deserve better! Parole is full of good people and we work to keep each other alive every day—but we will die unless you listen!”
“There, that.” Indra’s eyes slipped over to her, then back to his mother. “That’s what made me keep trying. Hearing how people talk about it, how they’re trying to make it safe, make it a home? I’ve never really…wanted to go anywhere before, just away. But I think I want to go there.”
“That place killed your brother,” Bhanu whispered. “The CyborJ Syndicate thought he posed some sort of threat and they killed him for it. He should never have been there.”
“He was there because he wanted to be,” Indra said back, voice almost as quiet. “He saw something in it. Something that made him want to give everything so it could live. I couldn’t come home.”
“You can always come home,” Bhanu insisted.
“I couldn’t! Not until I knew for sure!” Indra’s voice broke again. “Not until I knew what really happened—why he did what he did. And if it was really worth it. Because if it wasn’t…” Indra trailed off. Shook his head, slowly at first, then faster, until his hair flew. Then he half-ran across the room, wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him. Shiloh felt the wall-shaking force in xir chest along with xir sinking heart.
With rapidly clicking heels and without a backward glance, Lakshanya followed.
“Indra!” Bhanu choked out, reaching for the closed door, blinded by tears. “Wait! Come back!”
Annie grabbed Shiloh’s arm and bolted for the door as well. Maybe to follow Indra, maybe just to escape from the increasingly claustrophobic room and its raw, excruciating grief upon which they were unwelcome intruders.
“I’m so sorry,” Shiloh managed to get out before xie followed Annie. “This wasn’t how—I’m sorry!” The words didn’t even begin to be good enough. Nothing could. But there was nothing they could do here, not about the family’s pain or the disturbing implications surrounding Turret and The CyborJ ‘Syndicate.’ Like Indra, the only possible good they could do was outside. They left Rishika and Bhanu alone to hold one another together.
* ☆ *
Outside it was quiet, except for the soft humming of night crickets and Indra’s furious stomps down the sidewalk.
Indra said a four-letter word. Then he said it louder. Finally, frustration and pain boiling over, he pulled his foot back and let it fly. It hit the large Radiance Technologies sign and bounced off, accomplishing nothing except a stabbing pain in his toe. He clenched his teeth over more angry words and salty tears. His fists clenched so tight his fingernails dug into his palms and he almost didn’t hear the footsteps until there were arms around him.
“You have nothing to prove to us,” Lakshanya said quietly, pulling him close as he turned and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his wet face in her shoulder. “Nobody expects you to—”
“I can’t stop,” Indra said, voice muffled. “And I can’t help it. Mihir wouldn’t be fucking up left and right and backwards and forwards, he wouldn’t be running away and leaving you alone, leaving this family a mess, Mom running herself ragged and Dad’s just as much a mess as I am, I know he is—”
“Stop!” She took a step back, gripping his shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “Mihir isn’t here. He’s gone, but you are still alive, you’re still with me, and all we can do is try to keep going.” She took a deep breath. “Keep picking up the pieces. Keep studying the Tartarus Zone and rebuilding Parole, making sure what went wrong there never happens again. Somehow try to hold this family together… and myself.” She swallowed hard. “I haven’t been having the best time of it either, you know.”
Indra stopped. For a moment he held very still and just breathed, staring into his twin’s eyes. They were wet, red and puffy under their black liner and heavy purple shadow, and just as exhausted as his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, you rarely do,” Lakshanya sighed, shoulders sagging. She gave a long sniff and blinked several times. Raised a hand to wipe her eyes, then immediately realized what she was doing and lowered it. “This is so impractical. Didn’t wear the waterproof, didn’t plan ahead. How unlike me.”
“Hey. We’ve all had a rough couple years.” This time Indra pulled her into his arms. “Feel like taking a long road trip?” he said thickly, smiling through his tears. “Room for one more on the bike.”
“I’ve thought about it.” She sighed and disentangled one of her star earrings from his hair, but didn’t pull back. “Just leaving everything behind and starting fresh. Quite a bit. But there’s so much for me to do here. More than you’ll ever know. That’s not a barb, just a fact.”
“Don’t care if it was.” Indra shook his head, then changed tactics. “So Mom really didn’t know how bad it was in Parole?”
“No, but I did.” Her eyes narrowed, but it didn’t seem to be in response to anything he’d said. “I didn’t see a need for her to step in or even know. Or you. You were both grieving, and knowing would only bring more pain—so I handled it myself. Maybe not being more open about the reality was a mistake. And now an entire city’s paid for it.”
Indra thought about Annie’s white knuckles, her shaking fist clenched tight around the shark tooth as they listened to the strange and frightening voice over the radio. “Well, I know now.”
“I believe she does too.” Lakshanya said, glancing back up at the bright windows. “At the very least, you’ve got her attention.”
“Should have gotten it sooner. Mom never would have let any of this happen in the first place.”
“No.” Lakshanya’s black-lined eyes hardened, but again the glare wasn’t aimed at him. “That she would not. What is it they say, evil triumphs when good men do nothing? Change that to good women, I suppose. Grieving women. Women who are quite understandably distracted when their lives are nearly destroyed.” She smiled, eyes staying hard. “Women who will not let this imbalance continue.”
“And Turret is the evil that’s…triumphing.”
“I said inside that he approved of my plan to raise a new-frequency barrier over Tartarus, yes? Well, that was a bit of an understatement. He couldn’t be happier. He’s been more than generous with his support, he’s given me resources, staff, donated private funding. We’re more than capable of getting the job done but he wants it done yesterday.” She paused. “And that alone is suspect.”
“I thought this was your plan.” Indra shook his head, head spinning from too many details and not enough answers. “You don’t trust your plan anymore?”
“I don’t trust Turret. If he supports it this readily, maybe it’s time to recons
ider. His hands are so bloodstained they leave red fingerprints on everything he touches. So I’ve had to take matters into my own.”
“Shanni…what are you plotting?” When she didn’t answer right away, his heart sank. Not because she hesitated, but because he recognized the return of her poker face. Indra felt like he’d been punched in the gut. That was their look to share, to use on others and laugh about later. She was never supposed to use it on him.
“I’ve had my eye on Major David Turret for a while. He’s gained far too much power, far too quickly. Our mother is an excellent judge of character and she didn’t make her choice lightly. He may have been a deserving man once but, like many denizens of Parole, that man is dead now.” She looked at him steadily. “I’ll be watching him very closely.”
“I believe you.”
“You’d better. If something goes wrong, you’ll hear from me.”
“So…you’re letting me go?” Indra raised an eyebrow.
“Are you still going to Parole? After everything that’s happened? After everything our parents have been through? And we’ve been through?”
“What if I am?” he countered. “Are Mom and Dad gonna send anyone after me?”
“You’re an adult, Indra, they respect your decisions. Even when they don’t understand them.” She shook her head. “As for me, that depends,” Lakshanya spoke just as carefully. “What exactly are you and your friends trying to do?”
“Just get to Parole and see if Annie’s family is okay. She wants to find them. Shiloh has missing people too.” Indra didn’t dare mention the data from Maureen they carried, or Shiloh’s powers. Or his remaining personal agenda: Gabriel. Not even to Shanni. Was this the first lie he had ever told his twin sister? He wasn’t even lying, just omitting some truths. Was omitting some truths still a lie? It sure made his stomach twist. “And I—”
“You want to see what Mihir believed in so strongly that it made him give up his life.”
“I have to,” he said quietly, looking steadily into her eyes. “I have to see if it’s worth it.”
“Did you ever think that perhaps there’s nothing special about Parole? That it’s just a place, no different from anywhere else? And our brother was a just good person who believed thousands of people, no matter who they were, didn’t deserve to die?”
“I’ve thought of everything,” Indra said. “I still have to stand where he stood.”
“Then yes,” Lakshanya said simply and without hesitation. “I’m letting you go.”
Indra smiled through his tears, leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Best sister I’ve ever had.”
“Best twin, period.”
“Fine, you can have that one.”
“One more thing,” she said, growing serious in an instant. “The girl on the radio. I heard her again, just a little. Last night.”
“Yeah, I know,” Indra smiled, even though he had no idea where this was leading. “I’ve been listening too.”
“If you find her…” She hesitated again, and again Indra had the impression that she was holding back far more than she was saying. Deciding how much to reveal, how much to trust him with. Out of all the disturbing, frightening things he’d seen on this strange journey, this was the most disconcerting. “Just find her.”
“Okay.” They only stood a few feet apart, but Indra felt the distance in miles. Like they were staring at each other from across a great divide, wide as the Grand Canyon. Or maybe like they were on different planets. He’d lost another sibling. In a different way; he could still see her and reach out and touch her but the connection they’d had their entire lives now seemed far from reach. The realization slapped him in the face, and it stung. “I’ll tell her you said…hi?”
“No. Give her this.” She pulled something out of her purse—a small, sealed envelope, with no writing on either side. “She’ll know what it’s for. Do not open it yourself.” She glared directly into his eyes. “Do you hear me, Indra? Do not—”
“Don’t open the thing, got it.” Indra nodded a couple times, giving her an incredulous look. “Be more dramatic, okay?”
“I’m serious. Get it to her.” She looked directly into his eyes, unwavering. “And yes, I know very well, the moment I tell you not to do something, you’ll do it—but this one time, I ask you to resist. More is at stake than you know.”
“I mean, I’d probably wait until we got back on the road, but—”
“Indra.” Her hard, low voice cut him off mid-word. “I’ve never believed it was vengeance you were after. But if you want Mihir’s death…vindicated? If you want to help me prove he was right and Parole was worth saving? Give that envelope to the girl on the radio.”
Indra stared, mouth hanging open. Moments of silence stretched. “Who are you?”
Lakshanya bit her lip, eyes wide. Words in her mouth fought to come out, while she was fighting just as hard to keep them in. “The best sister you’ve ever had—remember?” She held him close one more time.
“You’re the best twin. Period.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He held on very tightly, suddenly terrified of letting her go. “I’ll—I’ll see you—”
“Just go!” She released him, barely stopping herself from rubbing at her own eyes before she smudged her eyeliner further. “It’s not goodbye. It’s not.”
“Yeah. Okay, Shanni.”
“Take care of your friends—and let them take care of you. And remember what I said about the radio girl.”
“Got it. And tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry. They won’t believe me, but I am. I’m sorry about so much.”
“I know. Now go.”
* ☆ *
When Indra walked shakily back out into the dark sidewalk, he passed right by Annie and Shiloh, who waited outside. He sighed, beckoning for them to follow with a loose, tired wave of his hand. “How much did you guys hear?” he asked in a resigned sigh.
“Just now?” Annie shook her head. “Nothing. Wasn’t gonna eavesdrop on you and your sister.”
He shot her a glance as if that hadn’t been the answer he expected, but didn’t stop walking or trying to excuse the disaster they’d just left behind. “Listen, about inside—”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it. It’s your business.”
“My mom really doesn’t—”
“We’ll talk later. For now we keep moving. Find someplace safe for the night. I don’t think this place is safe for you.”
Indra stopped walking. Eyes wet, he looked back up toward the towering building, the lights within. Silhouettes of people moving around inside high windows. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, lips barely moving. Now his shoulders shook. Now the tears fell.
“I’m sorry too,” Annie said quietly.
“I should have told you. You didn’t know.” Indra’s words came through clenched teeth, little more than exhaled air with faint consonants attached. It sounded like speaking hurt. Like everything hurt. “God, I just wish…I wish…”
Shiloh hadn’t said a word since they’d all come outside. Now xie stepped forward and wrapped xir arms around Indra. He let out a soft, broken noise—a sob that wracked his entire body as if he’d been struck a staggering blow—and collapsed into Shiloh’s embrace. His knees shook and buckled; he would have fallen if xie hadn’t been there. Annie too, he dimly recognized, she was holding him up on his other side like a wounded soldier; together they guided him back to the bike.
Indra let himself be led. He put his trust in their arms and they put him on the bike, held safely between them this time. He didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t say anything at all. Dim streetlights swept past, then disappeared as they left the city lights and barrier behind. Soon, darkness stretched out before them, so infinite and complete that he could pretend they were the only ones left on the planet. Indra rested his helmeted head on Annie’s back and felt Shiloh’s warm hand rubbing circles on his while he shook. White lines on th
e pavement blurred in his tears as they sped off into the night.
Indra didn’t say a word as they set up camp when they stopped for the night. When he did, he kept his eyes on the ground instead of either of his friends. “Sorry about back there. I didn’t mean for you guys to see that.”
“It’s fine.” Annie shrugged, sounding truly unfazed by the dramatic, somewhat traumatic evening. “You’ve seen enough of my meltdowns.”
“Those are different,” he said, shaking his head but still not meeting her eyes. “Or they seem different. I don’t know, none of my business. Still didn’t mean to drag you guys into my crap.”
“You didn’t drag us into anything,” Shiloh said firmly. “We wanted to be there.”
“Yeah, well?” He ran both hands through his hair and kept his eyes fixed on his shoes. “I don’t know what I expected, being in the same room as my family again, but I have to think it could have gone a little better. I don’t know why it matters, you’ve been in my head, you’ve probably already felt the bad stuff in the dreams, but I just…” He trailed off, as if too exhausted to even complete the sentence.
“You deal with it however you can.” Annie picked up where he left off. “Everybody’s got stuff. You figure out your stuff, whatever makes it easier to survive. Forget what anyone else thinks. If you mess up sometimes, forget that too. You didn’t mess up tonight, though. Sometimes everything else messes up for you. Sometimes it's your own brain.”
Slowly, he looked up at her, expression tentatively quizzical. “You really do get this, don’t you? Being numb, your own brain making everything harder?”
“ I've known my brain was different for a while. It's not all bad, but sometimes everything’s too much, too loud and bright,” she said, nodding at her helmet that sat on her bike nearby. “So there’s that. Doesn’t matter if people stare at me then, I don’t have to look at them. Or I remember some stuff that happened and it’s…” She stopped, unwilling to go back there. “Words are hard sometimes. Can’t always say what I want, can’t make people understand. Even if the feeling’s there in my head, sometimes I can’t get it out in words. So my jacket does it for me.” She waved at her back where the studs had somehow rearranged themselves into a single word that definitely hadn’t been there before: BRAINWEIRD.
The Lifeline Signal Page 11
