“Groveling would be a start,” Octavia says.
“Running for your life would be another,” Gabe suggests.
Cole stands. “HY1s, stop it and listen to me.”
He has no right to expect that we will, but we do. It’s engrained in us when he uses that voice, as automatic and well-honed a response as blocking a punch. Seething, I take Kyle’s hand, and Cole’s gaze flickers to the gesture.
Pain is evident on his face, but it’s hardly the most prominent emotion. “Listen. Malone sent me to go with you in case you succeeded in getting away, and yes, I tried to have you brought in. Twice. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I hadn’t thought it was truly for the best. I thought I was protecting you from yourselves. When Sophia filled me in on the truth when we left—she didn’t offer any evidence at the time.
“I get why,” he says before I can interject that we didn’t have the chance for me to do so. “But while I know some of you have always resented the way we were treated, I had a different perspective. I understood more of it, or I thought I did. When I finally got to see Sophia’s evidence though, I realized she wasn’t misguided. I realized I’d made a mistake and trusted the wrong people. That’s why RedZone hasn’t found us again. I haven’t told them anything else. You’ve known me all our lives. You have to believe that I’ve only ever done what I thought was best for us.”
I wet my lips. Cole’s explanation is exactly what I’d have thought it would be, but it’s not placating regardless. “They haven’t found us because you haven’t given us up. Great. I’m glad we’re not as incompetent as I thought.”
“Don’t know about that,” Summer says in a low voice.
A fresh silence falls around the table. I stare at my hand, at my fingers entangled with Kyle’s. He gives them a slight squeeze. The only spot I can’t look at is Cole’s pleading face.
“You’re admitting this now, why?” Kyle asks at last.
“Because Octavia brought up a good point about whether I’d be able to get the necessary intel out of Malone in order to pull off this plan. And I’m telling you, I believe the answer is yes. Malone doesn’t need to punish me like he would the rest of you.”
I take a deep breath. “Malone’s not going to want you to return without the rest of us.”
Five heads turn toward me in surprise. Bringing up the potential flaws in Cole’s plan suggests I’m seriously considering it. Which, I suppose, I am. I haven’t gotten over Cole’s confession yet, but time to wallow and rage is a luxury we don’t have. As long as I believe Cole is firmly on our side—and I do, possibly in spite of everything—I must overlook his betrayal to save Kyle and the others, and to atone for my own poor decisions.
“Kyle would need to be escorted back or given a way to communicate that’s he’s ready to be picked up,” Cole says. “We can concoct some story that fills in all the details.”
“I hate this.” Jordan knocks her knuckles against the table in agitation. “I’m not turning myself in.”
“You shouldn’t.” Rather against my will, the pieces of a plan are starting to fit together. I don’t like it either, but that doesn’t mean it might not work. “We’ll need people on the outside. At least, I assume we will. Only Kyle, Cole and I will go back.”
“Not you,” Kyle says. “Malone will kill you.”
“We have a better chance, however slim, of him actually upholding his end of the deal if I return. RTC students mean nothing to the rest of you. Malone has no reason to not heal them if he gets me.”
Cole sits back down, tense but less so. “It could be helpful to have another person on the inside with me. But, Sophia, if you go back, Malone will erase some of your memories at a minimum for sure. I’m not certain you’ll actually be helpful.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that, but Malone had threatened to erase my memories of RTC even before I escaped. He’d do it for certain this time.
“What if we can preserve Sophia’s memories?” Summer asks.
Octavia cringes. “We don’t know if that’s really possible. It’s theoretical.”
I lean forward. “What is?”
Summer’s blue eyes light up. “We’d been talking about whether there was a way to make copies of our memory files. Everything that’s processed by our brains is data, and data should always be backed up. After what happened to you with your chip rebooting, we want to prevent that kind of thing from happening again. We have an idea.”
“We think we do,” Octavia stresses. “It would be untested, and it would be slow to restore any data Malone removes because we’d have to hide the backup program from the camp’s technicians. The whole thing would just be clunky.”
“Clunky and slow is better than permanent deletion.”
Kyle’s grip on me tightens. “I really don’t like this.”
The funny thing is, I’m starting to. It’s going to be a while before I can forgive Cole, but I’m becoming more convinced that this plan could work. I can save Audrey and my RTC friends, and take advantage of what might be our best shot ever of destroying The Four in one grand attack. It’s too good to pass up.
“How long will you need?” I ask, remembering Malone’s timeline for surrender.
Summer and Octavia exchange glances. Summer says “hours” as Octavia says “days”.
“We don’t have days,” Cole reminds them.
“Well, we need better equipment than we’ve been able to steal.” Octavia makes a disgusted face. “I can’t write or test quality code on an e-sheet. It’s not powerful enough, and I’d need to plug in to Sophia’s implants.”
“There’s a university not far from here,” Gabe says. “I saw it on the map by the entrance. Maybe we can borrow someone’s equipment.”
Kyle groans. “You’re going to steal something else?”
“Borrow. We’ll give it back.”
I stand and grab my backpack. “Then let’s go. While you’re working on the code, I need to use the school’s library.”
“For what?” Cole asks.
“Research obviously.”
He waits for more of an explanation, but I offer none. I’m not going back to the camp without first gathering some insurance intel, and I’m not ready to trust Cole with what that entails.
Chapter Twenty-One
Friday Morning: Four Days After Escape
While I never thought I’d still be in Pennsylvania after all this time, I really never thought I’d be willingly returning to the camp. I have quotes about “best laid plans” running through my head, but these are hardly anyone’s best plans. Despite nineteen years of training, very few of my plans seem to qualify for that label, and perhaps it’s just as well. I had an excellent plan to get Kyle to safety from RTC, and it failed spectacularly for reasons beyond my control. So what’s the point?
I might as well go with a shaky, half-assed plan and wing what’s necessary. In some ways, I must be as desperate as Malone to do it, but here we are. Kyle calls it our “hail Mary”, which I thought had something to do with religion but he claims has more to do with football.
Pure humans. After spending the last four months living on the outside, they continue to bewilder me at times.
Cole has used one of our disposable phones to call Malone, so the camp is aware we’re arriving. Kyle and I both had bandanas tied around our eyes for the last few miles, as per Malone’s instructions. Since we’ve already seen how to get out of the camp during our escape, and my memories are awaiting deletion, I’m not clear on the point. It could be a show of power, or it could signify something else. Maybe Malone’s memory-deletion protocols aren’t as fine-tuned as he’d like them to be. That could be good or bad.
Past the guard station, we’re instructed to remove the blindfolds, and Cole navigates our stolen car to the closest lot. The snow has been cleared, and the sun shines, illuminating the worn, rounded
mountains in the distance. But proof of our violent escape is evident in a missing building—one of those Gabe and Lev destroyed—and the scorch marks left behind when the rubble was cleared. It must all have been done remarkably quick and efficiently, as though Malone wanted to make sure the memory of our disobedience never had time to crystallize into all those squishy, fully human brains that he can’t alter.
As a result, everything and nothing has changed since we left. It’s surreal.
Then I see Fitzpatrick approach with a dozen security guards. That she’s up and walking already—albeit with a cane—is impressive. Hate her, I might, but she’s never been a slouch. Also, it probably doesn’t hurt that she has RedZone’s advanced medical tech to hasten her recovery.
Impressive healing aside, however, the cold disgust on her face has deepened along with the age lines on her cheeks and the perma-scowl she wears on her forehead. It’s a cliché come true. Bitchpatrick was never an attractive woman, but hate has made her uglier.
“Ready?” Cole asks, taking off his seat belt.
“Bit late if I’m not.”
Kyle says nothing, but his expression matches Fitzpatrick’s as he gets out of the car. Knee-weakening hot as I usually find him, his fury doesn’t do him any favors either.
A dozen guns are pointed at me as I shut the door, and I assume a sharpshooter is in the closest watchtower too, staring at me through a scope. I see no reason to test that assumption, so I casually raise my hands and hope I did not miscalculate Malone wanting me alive. My heart thumps, and adrenaline makes me twitchy.
A cold wind blows my hair around as Fitzpatrick limps forward. “I knew Malone’s plan would work. HY1-Seven, you are pathetic in your weakness and a disgrace to your unit.”
Calmly, I wet my lips. My defiance is nothing to hide anymore, and I might not get many more chances to talk back to her. “Whose fault is that? You were supposed to train me. Didn’t do a good job, did you?”
“Some dogs are too stupid to be trained. My real soldiers would never give themselves up in such a situation. If they believed in their mission, they would know it comes first. But not you. You’re as capricious as the wind, dedicated as a sloth and emotional as a…”
I smirk as Fitzpatrick struggles to complete her not-quite-right analogy. Words have never been her strength. Just one more reason why she probably prefers to simply beat on us.
“Emotional as a decent human being?” Kyle suggests. “In spite of what you’ve done to her?”
I want to kiss him for that, but Fitzpatrick looks like she’d rather murder him. Good thing Kyle is a super-powered mutant.
“Lock. Him. Up.” Fitzpatrick motions to the security team, and half of them approach Kyle.
He doesn’t resist, and inside I wail as he’s roughly taken away. If our plan doesn’t work, this could be the last time I see him. If Summer and Octavia’s idea doesn’t work, I might not even remember it later.
It’s too late to panic, so I inhale a slow breath of the frost-tinged air.
Now, six guns are trained on me. Fitzpatrick shows no signs of telling the guards to lower them, and I’m tempted to ask her how the leg is doing.
She speaks again before I can. “Where are the rest of them?”
The question is directed at Cole, and I hold my breath as he responds with our story. “Doing just as you said—being proper soldiers. They weren’t about to turn themselves in for a bunch of students they don’t know. We had some infighting about Seven’s decision. I had to choose whether to make sure Seven and Chen returned or if I should chase after the others. I believed this was more important, but I made sure I had a way to track the rest of them down later. They’ll be easy to find once they’re convinced they’re safe.”
Fitzpatrick grunts, and I get the sense she was searching for a reason to criticize Cole’s decision. Unfortunately for her, there’s really nothing wrong with his explanation. Malone will probably ask for and get additional details, but on the surface, what Cole said sounds reasonable.
Fitzpatrick signals the guards a second time. “Take her to Malone. One, you’re with me.”
My arms are yanked behind me, and I’m forced into binders. Every cell within me screams to fight off the guards, but I returned willingly. No sense in fighting what I chose and getting hurt.
The regular humans who work at the camp have always been wary of our kind, and not without good reason. They both fear us and look down on us as something lesser. Today, I sense more fear. Even bound, three of them keep me at gunpoint, and their anxiety is present in the way their pupils have dilated despite the sunlight.
They deposit me in Malone’s office, which has also been completely restored, although I can’t say the same about Malone. A small bandage remains on his forehead from where I’d clocked him. Yet the biggest change in Malone is that he’s not smiling. The kindly father act he’s always used with us is gone. This, I suspect, is the real Malone that I’m seeing for the first time. Stern, driven, as cold-blooded as Fitzpatrick.
“Sit,” he says without ceremony.
In case I’ve forgotten how, two of the guards push me into a chair. Their large hands continue to rest on my shoulders, holding me in place.
“You and your unit could have been my biggest triumph,” Malone says. “Instead, you’re turning into my biggest disappointment.”
I’ve been pretty disappointed in you too lately, sir. Turns out you’re a criminal scumbag.
But unlike with Fitzpatrick, this is not the time to be glib. Malone holds the power of life and death over me, freedom and the utter destruction of everything I’ve become. I do not need to add any virtual C-4 to his barely restrained explosion.
“You know what happens to our creations who don’t work out.” Malone folds his hands.
A shiver dances down my spine, and Malone notices my fear. I hope that’s to my advantage. “They’re labeled Errors, sir.”
“Some. Others are terminated.” He pauses to let the death threat sink in. “I’d hate to have to terminate you, Seven. You see, I still believe in your potential.”
You hate to believe all the resources you’ve poured into me have failed to create a mindless psychopath.
“But as your actions have shown, you are too emotional to be trusted. Those emotions make you vulnerable, too easily manipulated.”
Isn’t that ironic since that’s exactly what he’s been doing to me all along?
“I continue to blame myself, in part, for sending you on such a long mission that you were clearly not emotionally prepared to handle. And so, I’m giving you one more chance for redemption. What do you say to that?”
There are many things I want to say to that, starting and ending with Fuck you. But instead I respond with, “Thank you, sir.”
Malone doesn’t appear impressed with my obvious restraint. “You will be redeemed, or not, through your actions in the following days. To start, I’m having your memories, going back to your assignment at Robert Treat College, erased. Frankly, I’m not sure how well that is going to work. In order to leave you functional, the process will have to involve the very precise removal of select files. It’s going to be just as much a test of our technological capabilities as the end product will be a test of your future here.”
My mouth goes dry. I’m not surprised that what Malone is proposing would be tricky. I anticipated it, after all. But it’s far from comforting that he isn’t putting on a false show of confidence. In fact, it’s very unlike Malone, and while he might simply be trying to scare me, it’s working.
Please, please let Summer and Octavia’s idea work. And let the program not be found.
“We will begin today,” Malone says. “I want the threat of you removed as soon as possible. I want to make an example of you. And, Seven? I want you to be redeemed. Remember that.”
Such a funny use of the word. To be redeemed by o
nce more being a terrible person. “Yes, sir.”
He nods at the guards. “Take her down to medical and have the technicians start prepping her.”
The pressure on my shoulders releases so I can stand, and I’m led toward the door. Halfway there, I realize Malone has said nothing about the RTC attack.
I twist around in the guards’ hands, and Malone raises his eyebrows. I decide to take that as permission to speak. “Sir, are you going to release the RTC students from their comas?”
Malone doesn’t respond for a second, and the expression on his face tells me the answer is no. Though I knew better than to trust him, my blood burns hot with rage.
Malone straightens his tie. “That will depend on you, Seven. Prove to me that I have you back mentally and not just physically. Show me you can be redeemed. If you can do that, then I have what I bargained for, and at that point, your former friends will be fine.”
Former friends. Because I won’t remember them. In other words, the only way I’ll find out if Malone kept his promise is if we succeed at taking down RedZone. Otherwise, I will never be able to ask Malone again without ruining everything.
I grit my teeth as I leave, silently cursing his trickery.
Part Three
Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.
~Emily Dickinson~
Chapter Twenty-Two
Monday Morning: Present
My eyes fly open, and disorientation leaves me gasping. The blankets over me are familiar, and the room is dark and quiet except for the hum of a heater. A second later, it comes to me that I’m in my bed in our quarters.
I’m home. Then I curse the word because I do not want this place to be my home.
Calming down, I press my hands against my head and imagine my skull feels fuller. It’s taken almost four days, but in the end, Summer and Octavia came through. The program they installed in my implants to backup and restore my memory files has finished loading the deleted data. My memories of Malone sending me to RTC, of meeting Kyle, of my failed plan to hide him when I learned the truth about RedZone and of our subsequent escape from the camp—they’re all here as though they were never erased. Every detail, even the part where I shot Fitzpatrick, has been returned.
Resist (RedZone) Page 19
