by Melissa West
“Oh, hey,” I say. I spent much of the night contemplating Jackson. Somehow everything I thought I knew about him is changing. I’ve known this boy for years, yet I feel like I’m just getting to know him—the real him.
“How was training this morning?” he asks.
“It was— Wait, how did you know I train in the mornings?”
He smiles genuinely, no hint of the arrogance I’m so used to seeing. “Lucky guess.”
I turn back around, feeling a strange tingle in my stomach, and rush through the doors, refusing to look back.
I finally cave to take one peek over my shoulder, and I slam into someone. “Oh!”
“Hey,” Law says. “You okay?” He pulls away from me, his eyes filled with concern.
My body tightens. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.” I draw a breath, waiting to see if he saw me with Jackson. He kisses my cheek and drapes his arm around my shoulders, steering me toward our lockers. After a few seconds, I’m able to relax.
When we reach our lockers, we discover Gretchen, bouncing with excitement.
“Sooo…” Gretchen probes. “What did you think?”
“Think of what?”
“Your dress to the ball. Mine delivered this morning. It’s so perfect. I can’t wait for you to see it. Yours didn’t come?”
I reach into my locker to grab a notes tablet. “No, we didn’t order it yet, remember?”
She bites her lip like she’s trying to keep herself from bursting.
I pull back from my locker and fix my gaze on her. “You didn’t.”
“I had to. Besides, I had your measurements, and it’s you, it’s all you. I promise. You’re going to love it and love me for ordering it.”
I sigh, glancing down the hall to see students huddled in tiny groups every few yards, whispering and looking around nervously. “What’s going on there?” I nod toward the groups.
“They’re spreading the location for that fall party they do,” Law says. “You remember. I heard someone say they’re actually thinking of having it in the woods this year. Can you believe that?”
I can’t. Ancients come from the trees, which means most humans are petrified of the woods that border Sydia. No one goes in there. There’s always talk of deranged Ancients that stay on Earth all the time, prowling the woods, waiting for a human to enter so they can Take them to death. I can’t believe anyone would be crazy enough to have a party there.
Not that I believe the stories.
My eyes shift down the hall and catch Jackson standing against his locker, watching us with a strange expression on his face, but then a group surrounds him, blocking him from view.
“What are you doing?” Gretchen says, peering behind her to see what caught my attention.
I shrug and she starts up with what shoes she’ll wear with her dress and I smile down at her, relieved for the change of subject. But then my gaze drifts to Law. He tilts his head, his eyebrows threading together. He clears his throat. “Well, I should get going. See you tonight.” He kisses my cheek again, and then he’s gone.
The warning bell rings through the halls. One more minute and we’ll be locked out of class. Gretchen and I speed down the hall to world literature, and just as we make the corner, I feel a pull in my stomach. Jackson is face-to-face with Mackenzie. Her blond hair flows down her back. They are smiling that sort of sickening smile of two people in a fresh relationship. I start to go past them when his eyes find mine.
“What are you gawking at, rich girl?” Mackenzie says. I guess this was her present. Thanks.
Gretchen fake laughs. “Give me a reason. I dare you.”
I pull Gretchen to class before her feistiness overcomes her logic. We have Ops testing soon, and she can’t afford a mark against her. Gretchen shoots me a concerned look as I sit down beside her and spread out my reading tablet and notes tablet and pens and anything else I can think of to distract me. Why did that bother me? He’s nothing to me. It doesn’t matter what he does. I release a long breath, confused by the weird feeling in my chest. Like anger—or hurt. But that’s ridiculous.
“Okay, what’s going on, Ari?” she asks. “First the locker thing, now this. What’s up with you and Jackson? And don’t say nothing.”
“Seriously, nothing. We’re just friends…sort of.”
She starts to ask more when the classroom door slides open and Jackson walks in. He doesn’t take world lit with Professor Kington. He takes the class from Marks three doors down.
He says something to Kington, and she motions to the back of the room. I stare at my desk and fiddle with the lamp affixed to the side for reading. It’s an older turn-style. I work the dial between my fingers, but I can’t get it to turn. Just then, Jackson passes me and slides his hand over mine, causing the lamp to fill with light. He sits down behind me, leans forward, and whispers low, “Sorry, had to defuse the rumor spreading about us.”
About us. What? Does he mean himself and me? That’s ridiculous. No, he must mean himself and Mackenzie. Either way, it doesn’t matter. “Whatever,” I say. “It’s nothing to me.”
“Right,” he whispers, and I hear him lean back in his chair.
The tingly feeling resurfaces, and I shake my head to try to push it away. I slouch deep into my chair and try to ignore everyone around me. Gretchen shooting me questioning glances every few minutes. Jackson fidgeting in his seat behind me. It’s all too much. So when the bell sounds for the end of class, I jump out of my seat and rush from the room as fast as possible.
“Wait up,” Jackson calls before I can round the corner.
I cringe. Frankly, I don’t want to discuss anything with him right now, and I’m preparing to say just that when another voice interrupts.
“What for?” Law says. I whip around to see him standing a few feet from Jackson, his expression menacing.
“Law…” I say.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he says to me, but his eyes remain locked on Jackson. “What do you need to talk to her about?”
“That’s between her and her God, and I’m pretty sure that’s not you, bro.” Jackson walks away and mutters, “Bet you wish you were.”
Law lunges forward, but I hold him back. “Let it go,” I say. “You know how he is.”
“Why is he so interested in you all of a sudden?”
I shrug. “No clue. You heading to history?” I walk farther down the hall and wave for him to follow.
“Huh? Oh, no, that’s why I stopped by. I have an early meeting, but do you want to do dinner after your training tonight?” We reach the cross section of the halls. Everyone can see us now. Law reaches for my hand. He glances over my shoulder and then kisses me. It’s an easy kiss, as light as the wind, but the impact is immediate.
I jerk my head back, livid. “Feel better? I’m not some tree you need to mark.” I storm off in the opposite direction without another word. Law calls after me, but I don’t turn back. I can’t believe him. My parents may have signed me away to Law, but I never agreed. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t get to kiss me randomly just to prove he can.
I spend the rest of the day and the entire ride to Dad’s office lost in my thoughts, and not all of them involve the strategy or the potential war.
I walk into the Engineer building and up to Cybil’s office still in a daze, so distracted that I don’t notice her enter the room until she drops a stack of books on her desk. She pulls out a chair for me and scatters the books. I glance down at the titles, all involving war heroes and military plans and psychological warfare.
“Why are we reviewing these?” I ask.
She flips open one of the books and slides it over. It’s a photo of the world prior to World War IV. “Why did that war occur, Ari? Do you know?”
I think back to the history lesson last year on WWIV. A group of radicals sought world control. At first, most countries ignored the radicals. They, after all, provided debt relief for many of those countries. Eventually, the small group became a massive a
rmy, full of genius scientists and combat experts all across the world, hidden, waiting for their call to arms. We now know the plan began decades prior to the slaughter and, of course, the signs were all there. Strange political figures rose to power. The kind of people who should never step outside of a jail were now running the largest nations in the world. Fear crept into the minds of the smaller countries. Then the nukes dropped, destroying city after city in piles of rubble and smoke.
Before long, the radical leaders—known as the Octave—began to argue over who would rule once the dust settled. Their moment of weakness gave rise to the Rebels, a group of vigilantes that soon became the hope the rest of mankind needed. One by one the Octave fell and freedom reigned, though by then most of the world was destroyed. There was little cropland left, no electricity, and no way of getting anything. That’s when we began to count on the smaller civilizations that had always lived off the food they grew or killed.
Humans regained strength, but we learned our lesson and formed the four worldwide sectors we have today.
I refocus on Cybil, replaying her question of why WWIV occurred. “Power,” I say.
“Yes.” She walks around her desk and points to a photo of people jumping for joy when the Octave fell. “And how did it end?”
“The Rebels outsmarted the Octave by taking them down one at a time.”
“Right, and that brings us to our lesson for today. We are the Rebels, Ari. Humans. Now we just have to develop a plan to outsmart our Octave.”
“Our Octave. Do you mean…?” I shift in my chair, making sure I’m able to see and hear what she says.
Cybil’s face spreads into a devilish grin, her eyes shining bright. “That’s exactly what I mean. From now on our training will involve Ancient analysis. What we feel they’re capable of, what we know about them, everything.”
It all makes sense—the refusal to coexist, the focus on combat training. We aren’t just planning a weapon against them; we’re planning to annihilate them. “So you’re saying we plan to rebel against the Ancients. How?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too obvious.
She smiles again, tapping a finger to her head. “Our Chemists are geniuses, Ari. Trust me, we’ll find a way.”
For the rest of the training, we delve into past wars on Earth—Roman wars, Revolutionary wars, wars among nations, and wars against nations. There are so many it takes us the entire training just to record all of them and the timelines of each.
“Great work,” Cybil says as the clock on the wall hits five. “Now for the fun part. I hope you don’t mind if we extend training a bit today. Follow me.” She steps out of her office and down the hall to the Chemist elevator. I stare after her, a mixture of nervousness and excitement kicking in.
Cybil scans her keycard over a tiny dot in the wall, causing it to flash from red to green and then open, exposing a steel elevator door. She slides her card through another scanner and prompts me to do the same. The scanner requests a clearance code for me, which she types in from memory. A moment later we’re inside the elevator, zooming down several stories before it finally stops. The elevator opens to a long hallway with an auto-walk. After several yards, we reach a set of thick double doors, where Cybil scans her card again.
Inside is a series of ten labs, each with a large black number on the door. I inch forward, passing the first two, and then stop in front of the number three, my pulse racing. Lab three. I’m about to find out what happens here, getting us that much closer to discovering the strategy. Cybil reaches for the knob. This is it.
Except…it’s not. The lab resembles every other lab I’ve ever scene. Crisp white walls, floors, and ceilings. Nothing appears out of order at all. I’m about to walk back to the door to double-check the number when Cybil types in a code on the wall keypad, causing the back wall to split open. My mouth drops. Hidden behind the main wall is a thick wall of glass. I inch closer and peer through it to a two-story room with the same white walls, floor, and ceiling as the lab. There’s nothing inside. “What is that?” I ask, awe in my voice.
“It’s a testing chamber,” Cybil says. “The walls and ceiling are all temperature-treated. It’s completely contained. Nothing can get in…or out.” She smiles.
“Out? What would try to get out?”
“You’ll see at our next training. For today, we’ll go through here.” She enters another code and the wall closes back, hiding the chamber. I start to leave the room, but Cybil calls after me. “This way.” She nods at an open doorway to the far left.
The hallway is dark with nothing but a pale blue light at the end to guide us. I trip over my own feet and grab the walls for support. That’s when I realize the hallway is no wider than my arms and no taller than a doorframe. Suddenly the air feels tight, and my breathing escalates. I hate confined spaces.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” she says.
My throat tightens. “Yes. Why can’t we go another way?”
“This is the only way inside. Besides, we’re here.” She steps out of the hallway and into a nightmare. Containment chambers full of water line the walls. Inside the chambers are Ancients, all with the same golden skin and perfect features. But the room is filled with more than just bodies. Some chambers contain hands, others brains. Ancient body parts, I’m sure of it. Twenty or more tubes attach to each body or body part. The entire room is like some sick science project.
I edge closer to one of the chambers, a full body inside. The skin appears grayer close up, dead and lifeless. Her hair floats around the sides of her face and her eyes are closed. She’s older, a grandmother maybe, though I have no idea how their aging works. I bite my lip to keep control. What have we done to her? I’m about to look away when her eyes snap open, and I stumble backward.
“She—she just opened her eyes!” I point at the chamber.
Cybil laughs. “Of course she did. The bodies are kept alive for analysis.”
“But…so she’s not…”
“Technically she’s dead,” Cybil says. “It’s just an injection that allows the body to function post-mortem. Don’t worry. She can’t see you. Her eyes work, but they don’t transmit information to her brain. Your father asked that we begin our study here.”
It takes all my energy to keep my voice steady. “What sort of study?”
“Oh, mainly checking for changes and analyzing the reports. Nothing fun until we receive the live subjects.”
“So the testing chamber back there…”
“Is for live Ancients, correct. How else will we discover how to kill them?”
CHAPTER 9
Two hours later, I knock on the door to Law’s house. The all-brick estate home spans the size of three of mine, every element of it custom-built for the Cartiers. His house is set apart from the rest of Process by a gated driveway and thick, intricate fencing looping in metal swirls from the gate all the way around the house. Typically guests have to announce themselves at the gate, and then one of the staff will approve or deny admission. Gretchen and I are the exception. We used to come here all the time growing up, so Law taught us how to rig the gate open and sneak inside without bothering the staff.
Of course we used to call ahead to let him know we were coming. But I can’t worry about that right now. I have to talk to him, to someone, and Jackson isn’t an option right now. Besides, Law is our next president. He would want to know what we’re doing. Then a horrible thought occurs to me—maybe he already does.
His door alarm has already announced me three times, yet no one has come to the door, even though he has a house full of staff. I knock again, this time a touch louder. I’m about to go around to the back when the door flies open.
“What— Ari?” Law says, his face shifting from anger to concern. “Are you all right? What are you doing here?”
“I need your help,” I blurt. “They’re…” I stare at him blankly, wishing I had thought this through. I want to confide in Law. I know he would listen, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t tell a
nyone. But what if he did? I wait too long, the silence awkward and unbearable, and then finally change the subject and say, “Why are you answering the door? Where is everyone?”
He raises his eyebrows. “They’re all on the lower level preparing for the ball. Now your turn. What do you need my help with? Is it…?” He tilts his head, and I get the feeling he knows something, maybe the same something I know. I can’t be sure.
I draw a long breath, stalling again. What can I say that doesn’t sound completely insane? I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to tell him, separate from the Jackson bit. Dad doesn’t divulge his theories and experiments to President Cartier until they’re fully developed. That much I know.
“Ari?” Lawrence says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I decide to start with the truth. “I had a rough training session today. I just needed to see someone. Sorry to come unannounced.”
He closes the door behind him and leads me to his front steps. “Not at all. But come on, you’re not telling me everything. You seem rattled. There’s no training that could shake you like this, so what’s the real story?”
I stare up at him and all my resolve crashes. He’s not ready for this. To Law, life is still in perfect order. I don’t want to be the one to wreck that for him, at least not yet.
I smile at him, hoping to lighten the mood. “It’s my new trainer, Cybil. She’s intense. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m fine now.”
He studies my face, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Well, let me walk you home.” The sun has just started to dip behind the trees, mixing orange and yellow hues into the gray sky. Law takes my hand as we pass through his gate and onto the main walk that leads to my house. He’s quiet the entire way, as though he’s enjoying the peacefulness and doesn’t want to complicate things by talking. We reach my house and I’m about to turn to thank him when I feel his hand stiffen in mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask, then, hearing a voice call my name from behind, turn around. Gretchen stands a few yards away. She seems dazed for a second, her eyes darting between Law and me, and then she breaks into a grin and points to my front door.
