by Kyla Stone
Micah gaped, too stunned to react when a second figure plucked the glasses off his face and yanked a huge, pumpkin-orange trench coat over his shoulders. The white-furred fringe tickled his cheeks.
“What in the world?” was all he could manage.
“Go with it,” the guy said, shoving Micah’s folded glasses into the pocket of his lime-green peacoat. He pulled Micah against the wall and thrust an unfurled Smartflex into his hands. A holofilm was already playing, a tiny holo fighter jet shooting at a larger ship in outer space. The guy leaned over him, ostensibly to get a better look at the movie, but it also partially shielded Micah’s face.
A dozen guards rounded the corner, stun rods and pulse guns in their hands, a squadron of nighthawks gliding silent and deadly over their heads.
“Don’t enjoy this too much,” the girl said to Silas with a wink. Then she leaned in and kissed him.
24
Amelia
Amelia was desperate for a break.
The last few days had passed in a haze of swirling voices and gently rolling music, mixed with stinging pricks and the repeated sensations of intense pressure and discomfort. The sedative helped. The pain would be much worse without it.
“May I use the restroom?” she asked.
“Of course.” Dr. Hobbs leaned back in his wheeled office chair. He rolled across the room to a counter with an integrated computer. He was the only one left in the room besides the med-bot and the guards at the door. She hadn’t noticed her father leaving. Or the other two doctors, for that matter. “When you return, we’ll get started on the next round of bone marrow samples and organ biopsies.”
She stood, steadying herself against the bed for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed through her. Her brain felt thick and fuzzy. It must be a side effect of the strain all this was taking on her body.
The female guard stepped forward and held out her arm. “I’ll escort you.”
Amelia managed to wave her hand. “No, thank you. I can manage the bathroom by myself.”
The guard smiled tightly. “I’m sorry, but I must insist. Orders from President Sloane.”
Amelia sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”
She allowed the guard to take her arm as she tried not to wince. Her inner forearm burned and stung. Yellowish-green bruises marred her skin. The bone marrow and organ biopsies would be far from pleasant. But this pain was nothing compared to what she’d already endured.
She was willing to go through far worse if it meant a cure.
The female guard escorted her through a series of blank white corridors. All the doors they passed were closed. As they rounded a corner, two doctors in hazmat suits brushed past them, their suits crinkling. The doctors hurried into a door emblazoned with a red biohazard sign and the words “Authorized personnel only.”
A Biosafety Level 4 lab. This was where the virologists would examine her blood and tissue samples. This was where they would expose her samples to the Hydra virus, where the cure would be discovered—or not.
The pressurized door closed behind the doctors. As it sealed, air was sucked out of the chamber, leveling the pressure. Along the edges of the door, a long, thin rubber bladder inflated to seal the seams. Through the narrow glass partition, she could make out the decontamination chamber with banks of nozzles, and beyond that, a lab teeming with figures in hazmat suits peering through microscopes and bent over thermocyclers, DNA sequencers, centrifuges. The bright light fixtures overhead were encased in airtight boxes and sealed with epoxy to prevent pathogens from escaping.
The guard tugged her arm and led her away. “Here.” She pushed the bathroom door open and followed Amelia inside.
The counter was white quartz, the floor and walls long rectangles of gray tiles. Amelia chose one of the three stalls and did her business while the guard leaned against the bathroom counter, waiting.
Amelia came out and washed her hands. When she pulled her hands from beneath the faucet, the guard leaned in close, shaking her head. “Keep it on,” she said in a low voice.
Amelia obeyed.
This close, the guard’s skin was a field of pink, her blunt nose spanned by a network of faint freckles. A spray of pimples dotted her forehead. “My name is Harper Atkins.” Her voice was as soft and inconsequential as her appearance. “I’m here to help you.”
“To wash my hands?”
Harper frowned, her forehead wrinkling. “They told me you were smart.”
The realization struck her. “You’re with the Patriots.”
Harper smiled. She was pretty when she smiled. “They’ll keep a close eye on you. But I can get messages in and out. As soon as you have information, or even better, the cure, let me know and I’ll smuggle it to them.”
The hissing water drowned out their voices, but Harper still spoke in a whisper. So did Amelia. “Who’s them?”
“The resistance here in the Sanctuary. I answer to Theo Reaver. I think you know of him?”
“Cleo Reaver’s brother.”
“Right. Whatever you do, don’t trust the other guard. His name is Sam Logan. Everyone just calls him Logan. He’s one of President Sloane’s personal security guards. She assigned him to you to keep an eye on things, if you know what I mean.”
She nodded, relieved to not feel so alone. But could she trust this girl? She didn’t know her at all. She could be anyone, say anything. “Are you going to help the people I came with? They’re still stuck in quarantine—”
“Micah Rivera and Silas Black. We know. We are helping them as we speak, I promise. I’ll give you an update as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said.
Harper leaned over and switched off the water. When she spoke again, her voice was curt, her demeanor detached and professional. “Ready to go, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Amelia said.
As she followed Harper back to the lab, she felt lighter than she had in days.
Maybe this whole thing would really work.
25
Micah
Micah’s pulse hammered in his throat. Even in the winter chill, sweat beaded his forehead. If one of the soldiers noticed…
The first guards rushed past, banging on doors and searching between and behind the buildings. Several of them wore tactical goggles with infrared sensors. Micah repressed a shudder, imagining the outcome if they had attempted to hide behind the bushes or beneath the recycling bin.
The guy beside him guffawed loudly and punched his shoulder. “Look at that move! Wicked awesome, am I right?”
Micah said nothing. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack under the tension thrumming through every cell of his body.
A nighthawk glided past, pausing briefly to scan them with a red, gridded laser. Micah stiffened, unable to breathe. The drone moved on, floating away with a faint whir of its rotors.
The girl pressed her body against Silas, kissing him with passionate abandon. At least Silas had the presence of mind not to shove her away in disgust. Or maybe he was enjoying it. Who knew with Silas?
“Hey, you seen two hostiles run through here?” asked one of the soldiers.
“Nah, man,” the guy next to Micah said in a bored, disinterested voice. He barely lifted his gaze from the holofilm.
“No loitering,” a second soldier demanded. “Get yourselves inside. Don’t forget about curfew.”
The girl stopped kissing Silas and half-turned, still ensuring her head blocked most of the soldiers’ view of Silas’s face. “Yes, sir,” she said with a demure smile.
“We’ll have HQ check the videofeeds.” The first soldier gestured to the rest of his squad. “Move out. They may have sought cover in the manufacturing sector.”
No one moved until the soldiers and their drones had disappeared from sight.
“Get off me,” Silas snapped at the girl.
The girl stepped back. “You should be thanking me.”
Silas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat. He glared at her, brea
thing hard. “I have one word for you. Boundaries.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that,” the girl said, returning Silas’s scowl with a beaming smile. “Oh, you’re so grateful that my quick thinking saved your life?”
“Thank you,” Micah said with feeling.
“You’re so very welcome.” She turned her mega-watt smile on him. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Micah, thick-waisted and curvy. A span of freckles sprayed across her snub nose and cherub cheeks. Her heart-shaped face was framed by a bushel of wild red hair. Her expression was open and friendly. It was hard to determine her age; she could have been fifteen or twenty-five. “I’m Fiona Walsh.”
Micah sagged against the wall, closing his eyes in relief. “Would they really have shot us?”
“They’re supposed to use non-lethal force first.” The guy next to him reached into his pocket and handed Micah his glasses. “But everyone’s a bit trigger-happy these days. My name’s Kadek. Kadek Tedjasukmana.”
He was Indonesian, and looked around Micah’s age. He was tall and gangly, his long black hair dusting his slightly stooped shoulders. His sharp chin gave him a distrustful, ferret-faced look. In addition to his brightly colored wool coat, he wore fingerless leather gloves and a fedora hat.
“Who was the boy in the red scarf?” Micah asked. “Was that Theo?”
“That was me.” Fiona flashed an impish grin. She pulled the red scarf out of her coat pocket and fluttered it at Silas. He swatted it away with a scowl. “Kadek and I are masters of disguise.”
“That was smart,” Micah said. “Hiding in plain sight.”
Fiona stuffed the scarf back in her pocket. “No one is looking for four recalcitrant teens standing around doing nothing.”
Silas stuffed his hands in his pockets and glowered sullenly at everyone. “So, where’s this Theo then?”
The door of the apartment directly in front of them swung open. “Right here.”
An Indian guy rolled out onto the sidewalk, his arms flexing as he worked his wheelchair. He was dressed in a wrinkled white T-shirt and jeans. His upper body was broad and well-muscled, tapering to a trim waist and slender legs. His thick black hair was disheveled, the beginnings of a scruffy beard along his jawline.
“I’m Theo.” His dark eyes shone with intelligence as he examined them, a wry grin tugging one corner of his mouth. “Not quite what you expected?”
“No, I mean, um…” Micah stammered.
“No worries. Let me guess. Cleo told you nothing about me.”
Micah had expected Cleo’s twin to be a male version of her—tough, ferocious, and scary as hell. This guy seemed…nice. “Not really.”
Theo winked at Micah. “Sounds about right.”
“She said you were a hacker,” Silas said.
“That I am. And a damn good one.” Theo ran his hand through his rumpled hair. “I take it you got away before they chipped you.”
“We did,” Silas said.
Micah turned to Fiona and Kadek. “Thanks to your friends.”
Fiona beamed. “I like them, Theo. Especially this one.” She reached out to pinch Silas’s cheek. Silas darted out of reach, an expression of abject mortification on his face.
“You should know there are cameras, microphones, and surveillance drones everywhere,” Theo said in a low voice. “President Sloane declared martial law the day they announced the Hydra virus was a bioweapon. It’s supposedly part of the Safe and Secure Act they passed in emergency session right after that ship blew up. She hasn’t lifted it, even in here.”
Fiona gave a flippant shake of her hair. “She claims law and order is even more critical while we re-establish civilization, or whatever.”
Micah scanned the area nervously. “Are we being watched now?”
Fiona pointed to a tiny, barely visible camera lens nestled in the eaves over the front porch. “Unfortunately, this particular camera lost an argument with a rock. Maintenance hasn’t made their rounds to repair it yet.”
“We have a place off the grid to stash you, but we need to wait until after curfew,” Theo said. “Until then, you’re guests in my house. This is the first and only time we can stay here. We’re very careful to move locations frequently when we meet.”
Micah and Silas followed the Patriots into Theo’s home. It was small and spare—four white walls, functional furniture, nothing extraneous or decorative. It wasn’t at all what Micah had expected.
“Only the elites live in true decadence,” Kadek said wryly.
“Sleep mode, please,” Theo instructed the house AI.
“Certainly, sir. Powering off now,” the AI said.
“I’ve hacked the home monitoring system to actually turn off,” Theo explained. “Unlike the original version, which records every word spoken inside its walls 24/7.” He pulled five cold sodas from a small, old-fashioned fridge and placed them on a stainless-steel table. “Take a seat.”
Micah sat down across from Theo. Kadek took a seat to his right, Silas to his left. Fiona slid into the seat on the other side of Silas with a mischievous smile. She winked at him. Silas’s scowl deepened.
Behind Micah, a bunch of synthetic grapes rested on the counter—impossibly huge and almost day-glo green. There was a bag of half-eaten chips and a bottle of salsa, the label advertising 5% real tomatoes.
“How do you eat here?” Silas asked.
Kadek shrugged his narrow shoulders. “We order on our Smartflexes or apartment AIs; the drones deliver it. Sectors five and above get the real deal, soil-grown fruits and veggies, real cheese and even real meat. We get the printed crap that leaves that stale, gritty taste in the back of your throat.”
Fiona tossed a bag of dehydrated vegetables on the table. “They add sugar to make them edible.”
Micah took a handful of shriveled carrots gratefully. After months of hunger and homelessness, he would never turn away food again.
“Let’s talk.” Theo popped the lid of his soda and took a long swallow. “Let me start with us. I’m Cleo’s twin brother, as you know. My mother, General Reaver, helped me infiltrate the government from the inside. We altered my identity before the mandatory Vitalichip ended all that. I’ve been working in tech security for BioGen for four years, since I was eighteen. By the time I finished acing their screening exams, they didn’t care that I never took a single college class.
“I worked my way up to higher security clearances, eventually earning some government contracts. None of that matters to you except that my skills earned me a spot here. For now, I keep my head down and do my job. But I’ve been waiting for my chance to play my part. We all have.”
“How many of you are there?” Micah asked.
Kadek sipped his soda. “Eleven.”
“Only eleven?” Micah asked, deflated. He’d hoped for an army.
“We can get the job done,” Fiona snapped, her beaming smile faltering. “We’ll do our part.”
“Most of our operatives are sleepers,” Kadek said. “They do nothing until we activate them. We have an undercover guard—Harper Atkins—in President Sloane’s security team. We made sure that she was assigned to Amelia’s detail. She’ll be passing us messages from Amelia while she’s interred in BioGen’s labs.”
Micah held his breath. “So she’s safe?”
“No harm will come to her,” Fiona said. “They know how valuable she is.”
Micah and Silas exchanged relieved glances. At least now they knew where she was. She was okay, and they could reach her if they needed to. And she had someone on the inside she could talk to. Right now, that was the best they could hope for.
“Harper’s father is a Lieutenant Commander in President Sloane’s Coalition forces,” Kadek said. “All military—air force, marines, army, National Guard—have been combined.”
“Kadek’s father is a scientist for BioGen,” Theo said. “And Fiona’s mother is a hydrologist, a water specialist who ensures the Sanctuary maintains its aquifers and other supplies
. Anyway, that’s how they earned their spots in the Sanctuary.”
Kadek watched something on his Smartflex. He flicked it closed and glanced at Fiona. “Fiona works in manufacturing and supplies. She’s our resident thief. She siphons techy parts and pieces, and I’m the one who makes something wicked out of them.”
Fiona ducked her head, her cheeks blooming red as she flashed a proud grin. She had a sweet, pixie-ish quality about her. Her gaze strayed to Silas for a moment before darting away. “Happy to be of service.”
“I work in engineering,” Kadek said. “I aid Theo with hacking, tech support, and whatever else he needs. But mostly, I’m the one that builds stuff.”
Theo clasped his hands on the table. “Your turn. My sister told me you have information of critical importance pertaining to the origins of the Hydra virus.” He glanced around the table. “We are extremely interested in what you have to say.”
Micah took a swig of soda, relishing the burn as he swallowed the fizz. He told them who was really behind the Hydra virus. He told them everything, from the events on the Grand Voyager to the truth Amelia had revealed about her own father, Declan Black, and their suspicions about the Coalition.
The three Patriots listened, frowning silently.
When Micah finally finished, Theo drummed his fingers on the table. “Cleo is all blood and destruction. I love her, but we fundamentally disagree on many things.”
“I can’t imagine,” Silas muttered. He slouched further in his seat.
“She thinks we need to take the Sanctuary by force, killing everyone inside. But I think there’s room for all of us. I think there’s a better way.”
“What do you mean?” Micah asked.
“We can tell everyone inside the Sanctuary the truth.” Theo’s eyes brightened, his face filled with hope. “We can tell them their own government purposely unleashed the bioweapon, the very people they’re following and trusting right now. If we can get the Sanctuary to revolt and turn on Black and Sloane and the rest of the Coalition, then this war of Cleo’s never needs to happen.”
