I rush past Merick on the porch, now angrier with him than I already was. I guess I shouldn’t be, because he only helped Crewe see that Cy and Decklin’s deaths are my fault. Merick didn’t make it so, I did. He demands to know where I’m going when I hit the lawn. I don’t answer him, but continue walking away with pace. I hear him curse and get off the swing behind me so I decide I’ll need to speak to him.
“I’m not going out of Sheridan, so relax.” Merick stands on the front lawn and watches me carefully, trying to tell from my back whether I’m telling the truth.
The neighborhood homes blur in my peripherals. No one is willing to go after my sister with her best interests in mind after losing Decklin and the beloved Cy the way we did. My father has suddenly become preoccupied with his greater duty. I am the only one left who cares about saving my little sister’s life. For five days, I’ve patiently listened to others and have gone along with their unimpressive plans while I’ve worried about what may be happening to her. It ends now.
I rip open the hospital doors and enter briskly. “I need Galvesten,” I tell the hospital secretary flatly. She starts to mumble something about him being unavailable, but I’m sick of everyone being too busy to help me. I roll my eyes and ignore her as I begin to butt my head into rooms down the hallway. She yells some kind of protestation in my direction, but I’d like to see her try to stop me. I’m not going to be very well liked in Sheridan either, but I don’t care. When have I ever cared how anyone else feels about me?
Finally, I find Galvesten in the middle of an ultrasound of a very pregnant woman. “Crewe punched through a wall,” I inform him. His eyes light up in alarm.
“He’s back?” Galvesten exclaims. I guess I hadn’t realized that my father and Merick might have aimed to keep his return private so that others wouldn’t try to smother him with sympathy.
“He’s home,” I verify. “His hand or wrist might need an examination when you have the time.”
“I’ll go right after this,” he promises. “Broken bones should be set early.”
“Go now,” the pregnant woman urges. “We’re not going anywhere,” she says, patting her belly. That’s right, this is Sheridan. I was wrong to get fired up about people being too busy and absentminded to help one another. It’s only my father who is guilty of that right now.
I exit the room and head for the man I’m really here to see. I hope he’s had the strength to bring himself here after all that’s happened. The door at the end of the hall is ajar. I walk through it and close it shut behind me.
Rico Aves looks up from the computer where he is mulling over something. His eyes are sunken and his complexion paled.
“Rico, I need your help, and I need you to promise not to tell another soul about what I am going to do.”
“What?” Rico asks, shaking his head as if he’s trying to wake himself up in order to make sense of what I have just required of him. “Sydney, I can’t promise that when I don’t know what you are trying to do,” he says.
“You have to trust me.” Now I’m wondering how I can ask him to do such an impossible thing as that. I have not proven myself trustworthy in any sense. I was right outside this same room when I first told Cy that my name was not Sydney Layton.
I carefully decide on something to say that might pull Rico onto my side. “I need you to jump all in with me, Rico, the way that Cy would. I just need you to trust me. What I want to do puts the town in no greater danger, and I believe it will bring my sister back.”
“Why don’t you tell Merick or the captain, I mean your dad, about—?”
“Because they won’t listen, Rico. They’re delaying everything and I swear to God I will not stand by and let her die in there. You and this idea that I have are my last resort before I go in and start blowing things up.”
“Well, that certainly doesn’t sound good for Sheridan,” he says matter-of-factly. Afterward, I feel like he may have even said it with a hint of humor. “What are we doing, Sydney Harter?” he asks me, reluctant to get involved but agreeing to take a leap. I know Cy helped me on that one, so I thank him for it. I sit down in the chair at Cy’s computer station opposite Rico so that I can unravel my plan to him.
“I need you to slide one of your propaganda pieces into Miles. I don’t want to start any kind of uprising, so there’ll be no mention of my name.” I’m sure that Miles County has pronounced me dead by now. Revealing that I’m alive to the general public would certainly cause a stir. Then again, chances are that any one of the remote number of people that would happen to see it would not have known that I existed in the first place.
“You said that they only ever last for a minute,” I continue, “which means someone is shutting them down. Someone with power. Someone within. In the piece, I want you to provide a way for the county to join in a line of communication with us where I’ll state my terms.”
“What are your terms, Sydney?” Rico asks me gravely.
“I want Evvie returned to Sheridan, unconscious, so that she can’t watch me go in her place. When I see her and confirm that she is alive, I will drive willingly to the county to take her place. I’ll go wherever they tell me to go.”
“What makes you think they’ll take the deal?” Rico asks.
“They wanted me in the first place. They were expecting me when they came to abduct her. I’ll be giving them exactly what they want.”
“They’re not going to trust that you’ll come after she’s returned,” he argues.
“I’ll give them permission to bomb Sheridan if I don’t show up where I’m supposed to go.”
“Whoa!” Rico interjects. “You said this wouldn’t cause any further danger to Sheridan.”
“It won’t,” I say, standing firm.
“What if you can’t walk away from her when she returns?” I picture it for a moment. I picture Evvie lying there asleep with me by her side. We would be together again and free in Sheridan. This is just a dream.
“I’ll have to, won’t I? I’m not afraid,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. I am not afraid anymore to give my life for Evvie. I saw in Crewe that it would be far worse to live with the regret of having not gone.
“Your father will kill me,” he says, and he’s not just using the expression. He believes my father might actually kill him for putting his little princess, the daughter he finally got back, back inside. Actually, it will be a greater transgression than that. Rico will be putting me directly into the hands of the BOTs.
“I’ll write him a letter. He’ll have to understand my choice.”
“I understand it, Sydney. I hate to be the one to help, but I understand that you have to do this.” Rico is all in with me. The man for true freedom will help me free Evvie.
“Will it be difficult to do? Will it take a lot of time?” I ask him. I want to be here if I can when someone from the county negotiates with us. I want that responsibility to be mine, not Rico’s. At the same time, I don’t want to give myself away by not returning to the laundromat in a timely manner. I’m sure Merick will send someone to check up on me since his hands are tied up with Crewe.
“Actually, I already have a lane set for that. Your dad asked me to have something ready in case he had a need to communicate with the inside.” Evvie being kidnapped didn’t present the need? I wish I didn’t feel like all of this could have been avoided. I wish I didn’t know that lives were wasted by plan A when other viable options had been considered.
“Let’s do it,” I urge Rico. He releases a downtrodden sigh and begins his fast finger-work. It looks as if he’s designing in one program and copying the encoding into another. “It doesn’t have to be fancy,” I tell him.
“No, but it has to be recognizable as one of mine if you want their system to detect its upload.” I watch Rico’s speedy fingers go to work on the coded announcement entitled A Lucrative Exchange. Underneath the title Rico writes: Send your silver sheriff badge to the number one western town, and we’ll return to you the pr
ized, golden one. Lastly, he invites the reader to sign up today to learn more. Rico creates a forum in the module so that communication can occur between some evil headman and me.
“Are they going to understand what that means?” I ask Rico.
“Long ago, Sheridan was named the number one western town and my propaganda has been traced to Sheridan before. They’ll know it’s us. Sheriffs were in charge of towns in the Wild West, so they’ll know we’re speaking of something relative to the captain, who is in charge of our town. They should be able to decipher that the silver badge refers to Evvie, and hopefully since I wrote that we’ll return the golden one, they’ll understand that means you. Are you sure about this?”
I take a final minute to think this over. There is no turning back once I set this deal in motion. I have been left no other options. This is the way it has to be. “Do it, Rico.” He looks at me for a long moment, spins back toward his screen, and publishes the propaganda.
Both of us stare at the flickering screen. My eyes water from forgetting to blink and from my understanding that I’ve just forfeited my right to live.
When the computer makes a noise, Rico spins around to check that the door is closed. The words on his screen read new membership request.
Rico was right. It took less than a minute for his upload to be detected by the systems and for someone to decide to join. Rico’s accepts the request and invites the user to join a private forum.
Somewhere in the county, in a place unknown to its residents, a swarm of operatives are busy contacting the person in command, notifying them of our message, and relaying their response to us. It’s haunting to know what I imagine is not make believe. It exists within the place that I had lived my whole life.
The unknown user accepts our invitation. A blank screen sits before the two of us.
“I want Evvie returned to Sheridan.” Rico types the words on a flat keypad almost as quickly as I say them. “I want her sound asleep for the journey and for my departure. When I see that she has been delivered safely, I, Sydney Harter, will drive willingly to Miles.” I keep my chin held high to say my final statement to the unknown user. “You may have my life in place of hers.”
The user responds with two statements:
1. At 2:00 AM we will deliver her to the home from which we took her if the area is clear. If you try to hide soldiers in suits or under glass—she dies.
2. Sheridan can expect complete destruction if you do not come immediately.
“One,” I say, and Rico types accordingly. “I am acting alone; it will be clear. Two, I will come.” Rico clicks to submit my response. Seconds later, the unknown operative on the other side of our private forum sends the message: See you soon, Sydney.
The words are visible just long enough to send chills down my spine. Then, all the systems in the room and the networks they are tied to short out.
“Get out of here, Sydney,” Rico orders. “Merick will learn that the cell phone isn’t working soon enough and he’ll come right over here to see if there is a threat.
I can’t go yet. There is more I have to say. “Rico, I need you tonight. I need you to go to Evvie after the drop but stay far away beforehand,” I stress. “I need you to keep her safe.”
Rico stands up, looks me in the eye, and extends his hand to me. “Good luck, Sydney.” I shake his hand meaningfully and turn away. I don’t loiter another second in the hospital. I can’t risk anyone seeing me here and interrupting this plan. The directions were clear—if I screw this up, people die. I won’t be responsible for any more deaths, especially my sister’s.
I speed back toward the laundromat on the other side of town, but make a final pit stop before I head back to work. I cross the busy street casually and walk away from the mingling strangers toward the lot at the end of Main Street. After double-checking that no one is watching me, I sneak into the old convenience store. Good, the shop is empty.
I lift a heavy jerrican from the shelf and quickly race it outside to an old, beaten red truck. Hiding behind the truck, I unscrew the fuel cap as I’ve seen the others do and let the gas spill from the jerrican can into the tank. I lug the heavy can into the truck bed. I want to be overly prepared so that I make it to Miles as I’ve promised. I walk low and swiftly toward the building, and then casually turn the corner.
“Sydney!” My heart stops as a familiar girlish voice shouts my name from down the street. A blonde squirt comes running toward me. I also quicken my pace toward her to put more distance between myself and the scene of my crime.
“What were you doing?” Lysia asks.
“Nothing,” I respond with counterfeit confusion. When I checked the street I had forgotten to consider that an obnoxious eight-year-old might have had her face pressed against the window, awaiting my return.
“Lysia, what did I tell you about running out of the shop whenever you feel like it?” Gwen scolds.
Lysia ignores Gwen. “Did you see my dad?”
“Hey!” Gwen claps at her. “I have told you too many times to knock that off. Now you march back inside and get sorting.” Lysia places an irritated pout on her face and doesn’t budge. “You have three seconds to do what I told you before I cancel your plans for tonight. One…two…” Tauntingly, Lysia stomps her way back into the laundromat just before her mother’s formed lips say the final word.
“I’m so sorry,” Gwen apologizes. She looks weary from the strain Lysia has already put on her this morning. “Crewe is not Lysia’s father. I’m not her real mother either—she’s adopted,” Gwen tells me. “She won’t even call me Mom,” she admits sadly.
“She told me she that yesterday, but she said Alix and Crewe were her birth parents.”
Gwen releases an exasperated moan. “Alix is Lysia’s biological mother, but Crewe hadn’t even escaped Miles yet when she was born.”
Wow. I can’t believe I hadn’t recognized that. I remember Cy telling me that he and his brother had been free for seven years. Lysia is eight years old, and Alix is from another county. I suppose I was so upset and surrounded by so much else going on that I couldn’t think straight.
My heart lightens ever so slightly to learn that Crewe is not the father of the little spitfire who sorts the clean clothes into house numbers on the other side of the glass. I’m glad to know that he didn’t keep something so monumental from me, and I’m glad there was one less element in his life forcing him to grow up too quickly.
“Her father?” I ask Gwen. This is more out of curiosity about Alix than about knowing Lysia’s background.
Gwen purses her lips and shakes her head. “Alix’s pregnancy was a fluke. We guess her implant must have malfunctioned. She was forced into a sad world under one of her fosters. They know it goes on but they turn their heads. It’s sick, you know?”
I do know. I feared that with Evvie.
“She was only fifteen,” Gwen says.
That’s exactly where Merick’s assimilation hope for Evvie goes wrong. I will leave nothing up to hope when it comes to my sister. She’ll be safe soon, and I’ll be strong.
Concealed in the Shadows Page 36
