by Kyla Stone
“Maybe they’ll leave us in here and just watch us starve to death,” Willow said bitterly. She was too incensed to sit. She paced around the table like a caged wildcat.
“They won’t,” Finn said, “if we’re reasonable.”
Willow scowled at him. “When have I not been reasonable?”
Finn’s silence said it all. In a nervous, halting voice, he said, “Maybe…maybe you should let me handle this one.”
She glared hard at whoever was behind the mirror. “I love you, but right now I really want to punch you.”
“You know what?” Finn said, now clearly irritated. “You can’t just punch your way out of—or into—everything. Sometimes, words work, too. We need to try talking first.”
“I’m great with words. I’m fantastic at talking. In fact, I do it all the time.” She whirled around, her hands fisted on her hips. “Benjie, aren’t I the best talker in the world?”
Benjie screwed up his face. “The best in the whole world?”
She glared at him. “Benjie.”
Benjie nodded obediently. “Lo Lo is an exceptional word-user.”
“See.” She turned her glare on Finn. “What other deficiencies of mine would you like to correct right now, while our lives are in great peril?”
“None.” Finn lifted his hands, palms out, placatingly. “Absolutely zero.”
“I have a few!” Benjie piped up.
“Not the time, Sir Benjie,” Finn said wryly.
Willow sank into one of the metal chairs and crossed her arms over her chest, settling into a brooding silence. Finn was being an idiot. Where did he come off acting so high and mighty? Sure, she might have handled things a bit better. But he didn’t have to rub it in.
No one was perfect. She was the one risking her neck all the time. It got old after a while. She slid down in the horribly uncomfortable chair, stared up at the concrete slab ceiling, and tried not to think of the mountain of earth pressing down on her.
It felt a lot like the sense of despair crushing her chest, choking off her breath. Finn was right, wasn’t he?
She’d failed. She wasn’t going to help their friends. She’d dragged Finn and Benjie across a mountain wilderness—Finn, injured; Benjie, just a kid—risking frostbite and starvation and infected grizzly bears. They could have died a hundred different ways.
What had seemed like a brilliant idea back at the Patriots’ compound now seemed like the worst kind of hubris, an egregious mistake. She’d let herself get too confident. Cocky and stupid.
She could have lost them both.
She could have lost Finn, the only boy she’d ever loved. She could have lost Benjie, the brother she adored with every ounce of her being, the brother she’d promised her mother she’d protect.
Willow had promised to protect Zia, too. Her guts twisted as her sister’s beautiful, heart-shaped face swam before her eyes. Willow was Ate, the Filipino word her mother had always used which meant “big sister.” She was supposed to be responsible. Every moment of every day.
She’d already lost Zia. She couldn’t survive losing anyone else.
How incredibly, moronically stupid she’d been.
And for what?
She didn’t dare meet Finn’s reproachful gaze. He was probably judging her with every word he didn’t say.
After a few minutes, Finn pulled his large legs to his chest, rested the elbow of his arm on his knees, and stared down at his good hand. “Are we fighting?’
“What?”
He shifted uneasily. “Is this our first fight?”
She forced lightness into her voice, even as she blinked back stinging tears. “We’ve had lots of fights.”
He looked at her anxiously. “Not real ones. Not like this.”
All the remaining fight went out of her. She didn’t want to feel this way for one second longer, even if it meant swallowing her pride. “I’m not mad at you, Finn. If anything, you should be furious with me. I’m the one that got us into this mess.”
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Before my parents’ divorce, they fought a lot. Sometimes, everything was great, and we did all kinds of things together. My dad loved the old retro stuff. You know, physical board games with pieces you held in your hands. He collected them. He had twenty-five different chessboards. We’d play as a family, and it was great.
“But working for BioGen was stressful, and he didn’t always agree with what the company was doing, their ethics and such, and sometimes he’d drink. My mom hated his drinking. And they’d fight. Big, brawling, screaming matches.”
Willow didn’t speak. She couldn’t. He’d never opened up to her like this before. She didn’t know what to say.
“When I was little,” he continued, his expression pained, “I would hide under my bed and cover my ears. I was the only kid, so I didn’t have siblings to comfort me. It was just me. So I started thinking I had to do something to stop the fighting, or make things better, or something. So I started cracking jokes when things got tense. I’d make up weird sayings or say something crazy. If I could make my mom laugh, that could break the tension. Sometimes it worked, you know?
“I really thought if I tried hard enough, I could keep my family together. It was my job to keep the peace. To always be silly, goofy Finn. I didn’t get to be mad or upset. Not ever.” He took a breath. “Now, I can look back and see that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But as a kid, it’s just life, you know?”
Willow blinked back tears. She wanted to go back in time and wrap scared, heartbroken little-kid Finn in her arms and never let go.
Finn was her person. He was allowed to have opinions that differed from hers. Especially in this case, when she knew she was horribly wrong. That was the part she hated more than anything. She had screwed up. She was the reason they were in danger.
She scooted out of the chair and knelt beside him, her kneecaps digging into the cold floor. She took his giant hand in both of hers and held it to her heart. “People argue and disagree and make mistakes, but they still love each other. We still love each other.”
Finn opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze soft and full of sadness and happiness mixed together. “We love each other?”
She didn’t let the warmth flooding her cheeks distract her. “We do. Because we’re family. We need each other. No matter what happens.”
Finn kissed the top of her head. He smelled like wood-smoke and pine needles. “Thank you,” he said huskily.
Her blush deepened. Instead of hiding her face with her hair, she kept her gaze steady on his. “My turn for a confession. I may have made a massive error in judgment.”
“You wanted to help the people you love. We both did.” He squeezed her hand so hard it almost hurt. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
She wanted to nestle herself in his arms, to feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She wanted his hand cupping the back of her neck, touching her hair, pulling her to him—but she couldn’t think of all that now. They were imprisoned in enemy territory. Besides, Benjie was looking at her like she’d just grown two heads.
She rocked back on her heels and huffed her bangs out of her eyes. “So, what’s the plan, then?”
“I vote for the ‘Try not to die’ plan,” Finn said.
“My favorite kind,” Willow said.
They exchanged grins. Everything was right between them again. Together, they’d get through this. Together, they’d figure it out.
“No, really,” she said. “I want to know what you think.”
Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “If we try to break out of here and run, we might escape,
but then we’re in the same position we were in before, with no way to help our friends.”
“And if we just sit here, they could kill us, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I don’t think they will. They’re not that kind of people.”
“Wha
t makes you say that? We don’t know them.”
“This feels different than with the Pyros. Plus, Raven vouched for them. They’re not going to hurt us, even though I’m pretty sure you broke that lady’s nose.”
“I did break her nose. She deserved it.” Willow sniffed. “What do you propose?”
“We go to them and ask to talk. Really talk. And listen.”
“Fine. But how exactly am I going to do that?”
“Just be your usual charming self,” Finn said with a crooked grin.
“We both know my usual self isn’t exactly charming.”
He reached over and tucked an unruly strand of black hair behind her ear. “You are to me.”
She couldn’t have blushed harder if she’d tried. She felt like she would melt right through the cement floor.
Benjie wrinkled his nose. “Ewww!”
Before Willow could come up with an appropriate response, a figure appeared in the two-way mirror—the mirrored pane abruptly shifting to transparent glass. It was Weppler, the blonde woman Willow had attacked, a bandage now wrapped around the middle of her face, her broken nose splinted. “Please keep your protective gear on. If you agree to do so, the Council would like to meet with you and hear what you have to say.”
“Yes,” Willow said evenly, fighting down the burst of hope exploding inside her chest. “We would appreciate that.”
Weppler swiped in a code, and the door to their cell swung open with a hiss. They were greeted by four more guards, all with guns.
She was itching to drop-kick somebody. Preferably, several somebodies. But she resisted, forcing her fingers to unclench one by one. She’d promised to try it Finn’s way. For now.
“Here goes nothing,” Willow muttered.
9
Micah
“Guys,” Fiona said under her breath. Her finger froze mid-twirl, half a curl wrapped around her pinkie like a tiny scarlet snake. “Hostiles to your six. Five soldiers just rounded the corner across the street with their pets. They’re looking our way. I think we’ve just been made.”
“Time to go,” Silas hissed. “Now!”
Micah didn’t hesitate. He broke into a run. He raced along the moving sidewalk, jostling past pedestrians. Adrenaline iced his veins. He pumped his legs harder, breathing in the freezing air in harsh gasps.
They’d been out scouting potential safe zones and hideouts for when the battle started. It had been a risk, one they shouldn’t have taken. He and Silas should have just stayed hidden away in the broken, abandoned biodome in the agricultural sector until it was time.
If they were caught…well, they couldn’t be caught.
“Go home,” Theo said to Kadek and Fiona as he sailed by, his arm muscles working like pistons, his chair’s wheels spinning so fast Micah couldn’t make out the spokes. “Wait for my signal.”
“We’re not leaving you!” Fiona panted, keeping pace right at Micah’s heels.
Micah risked a glance behind him. Half a dozen soldiers hustled only thirty yards back, sprinting along the road, transports dodging them with computerized efficiency. Three menacing, deadly nighthawks glided behind the soldiers like birds of prey.
“I can activate our hacked nighthawks,” Theo huffed as they fled. His strong shoulders flexed as he powered his wheelchair as swiftly as Micah could sprint. “But it’s a last resort. If I activate even one, the Coalition will know what we can do.”
“I know a safehouse,” Kadek said, gasping. “In sector six. But if the soldiers get too close, I won’t risk exposing them. We’ll be trapped.”
Micah’s thighs burned. His lungs were on fire. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet. His glasses slid down his nose. He jammed them back into place. “We’ll just have to figure it out.”
Fiona raced past Micah and Kadek, her brilliant red hair slipping out of her knit cap and streaming behind her. Silas kept pace beside her, barely winded. “What are you lollygagging around for? Let’s go!”
They raced through the sectors, weaving between buildings, down alleys and side streets, the shouting of the soldiers and citizens behind them gradually fading. They were gaining ground. But not enough.
“Shoot the cameras with this.” Theo thrust a vaguely gun-shaped object into Micah’s hand. “It not only deactivates them, it sends a virus into the hardware, effectively destroying the last twenty-four hours of feed. The Coalition will figure out the source eventually, but not by tomorrow. At least, I hope not.”
“We need to buy time,” Fiona said.
“There’s one more thing I can try. Don’t know if it’ll work, though.”
“Do it already!” Silas gasped.
“Activate Firefly,” Theo said into his Smartflex.
As he sprinted, Micah aimed at the blinking, dome-shaped cams attached to the eaves and doorways of various buildings, hoping his aim was good enough, hoping he’d caught them all. Fiona was right. All they needed was a bit of time.
Kadek turned sharply down a side street, nearly bowling Micah over. “Five houses down, at the end of this block. We can go the back way.”
“Go!” Fiona cried. “Before the soldiers see us. Go!”
The four of them cut across a manicured lawn bursting with flowering plants, the Sanctuary’s genetically-modified foliage nearly fluorescent green. They raced through a narrow alley, scrambling through several hedges. Fiona and Micah paused to shove the thick bushes aside for Theo to wheel through with a pained grunt. The knit cap covering Fiona’s fiery red hair slipped off her head. She bent to pick it up.
Two buildings over, a surveillance drone rounded the southern side of one of the apartment complexes, tiny camera lenses blinking with a hundred shots per second.
Fiona froze. “Oh, crap.”
“Psst! In here! Hurry!” A middle-aged woman in a simple emerald-green shift and paisley scarf stood on the back doorstep to her apartment. Instead of looking startled or wary, she gestured to them. “Inside.”
Breathlessly, Kadek pointed at the woman. “Safehouse.”
The surveillance drones would spot them any second. Micah grabbed Fiona’s jacket sleeve and shoved her toward the door. She stumbled inside, followed by Kadek, Silas, and Micah, with Theo right behind them.
The woman shut the door gently but firmly and leaned against it, her hand pressed to her stomach. She was a Hispanic woman in her late forties, fine lines around her dark eyes and full mouth. “My name is Luciana Chávez,” she said in a lilting South American accent. Her gaze slanted to Theo. “There are more of us on your side than you know. We hoped to meet soon, though this is a bit…unexpected.”
Fiona clasped Luciana’s hands between her own. “Thank you so much.”
The older woman nodded. “We must hide you. The soldiers are coming.”
Theo held up one finger. “Wait,” he mouthed, and pointed at the window across the living room.
Fiona and Micah peeked through the filmy lace curtains. A dozen nighthawks glided by, followed by several soldiers sprinting down the street. They didn’t stop or slow down. They didn’t check a single apartment on either side or scan the yards and alleys.
Theo grinned broadly. “I figured out how to spoof my chip’s data stream to a separate chip, which I attached to one of the Coalition’s surveillance drones yesterday. I activated it just a few minutes ago. It’s taking them on a wild goose chase all over the Sanctuary.”
Kadek bent over, his hands on his knees, his head down, still gasping for breath. “You could have told us earlier.”
Theo shrugged. “I wasn’t sure it would work.”
Fiona rolled her eyes as she shoved her curls back under her knit cap.
Micah turned to Luciana. “Thank you for your help. You said others were on our side. Who are they?”
“Please,” Luciana said. “Come this way.”
They followed her through a living area with dimmed scarlet lights. Bubbles of different colors and sizes drifted across the polymer walls. The air was redolent with cinnamon a
nd other rich spices Micah didn’t recognize.
She led them into a large, brightly-colored kitchen, the walls lime-green, the chairs brocaded in shades of yellow. Vivid abstract paintings—real canvas, not digital—lined the walls. In the center of the room, a dozen people crowded around a round dining table. They stared at Micah and Theo with grim, serious expressions.
An Indonesian man leaned against the counter. He was in his late thirties, with short, spiky hair and black-rimmed glasses. His rough-hewn face lit up when he saw Kadek. Kadek embraced him. “This is my uncle. I told you this was a safe place.”
“We are all shocked and appalled by Mr. Black’s actions,” Luciana said. “But none of us believe it was just him, like the president claims. They are both members of the Coalition. What’s happening here—the curfews, the soldiers and drones and cameras everywhere, the way they require those shots—this isn’t freedom.”
“We have plenty of room in the Sanctuary,” a young guy said from the table. “But they’ve stopped letting people in. My cousins and brother are still out there. It isn’t right.”
“We know you’re from the Outerlands,” another woman said to Micah. “We know there are people still struggling to survive out there. I believe we can still help them, even though they’re carriers for the virus. There has to be something we can do. Hope still means something. And it can’t just be for us. I can’t live with that.”
Kadek’s uncle focused his gaze on Micah and Silas. “We want to join you. We’re ready to fight.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Theo pulled out his bag of gummy worms, a broad grin splitting his face. “I happen to have a plan.”
10
Willow
Willow felt like her heart was about to thump right out of her chest. The cinderblock walls surrounding her pressed down on all sides. The concrete slab ceiling felt like it weighed a million tons. Pipes of various sizes ran along the walls and ceiling. Galvanized steel light fixtures lit the long hallway with harsh, flickering shadows.
