by C. A. Gray
“All right, all right, calm down, geez,” Charlie muttered.
Albert reached forward and squeezed Kate’s shoulder, even as she panted angrily. She ignored it for a second, but then reached back and squeezed it. When she turned around to face her father, there were tears in her eyes.
“I lost twelve years of my life,” she said. “I spent twelve years being someone else, someone they made me.” She pursed her lips, and glanced at me, protesting as if I were arguing with her, “I know it was still my own fault for allowing it. My roommate Maggie didn’t allow it. Alec didn’t allow it. I’m not trying to be a victim here. I could have fought it off if I’d tried harder. But still. Of all the things Voltolini has done, I hate him for stealing myself from me the most.”
By the time the sun began to set, we were still driving, and nowhere near our destination. The bullet trains were much faster than driving, even driving in a fancy sports car. Eventually we needed to switch vehicles to avoid recognition, but at the moment the consensus was, speed was more important. We’d get something else before we stopped for the night, because a parked sports car marking our location would render us too vulnerable.
We’d refilled the gas tank a few times, but the canister we’d taken was empty. We’d mostly tried to stay on the side streets to keep from being recognized, but in order to refill on gas, we needed to go into the city. Charlie took an exit into a city called Jute, and merged with traffic on his way to a station. I planned to use the government ID chip I’d used to get on the bullet trains to pay for gas: if it worked for the former, it should theoretically work for the latter.
But as we waited to pull in at an intersection, suddenly a large silver screen plastered against a government building lit up. Even though we hadn’t touched our radio dials, the anthem for the Republic played through our speakers, and we saw the seal of the Republic appear on the screen just before it was replaced with Jillian’s concerned face.
“Citizens of the Republic,” she announced. “Tonight we bring you a celebration and a victory against terror. The Potentate himself will report from the East Coast.”
The screen cut, and the swarthy man with deep set black eyes appeared, the edges of his lips curled into a smile. But what made my stomach turn was not him, but rather the prisoner who stood shackled beside him.
It was Uruguay Stone.
I heard Kate gasp.
At first Voltolini spoke directly into the camera. “Citizens of the Republic, tonight I bring you a special treat. I personally will interview one of the top members of the terrorist organization that has plagued us in recent months, and will allow you to listen in on the conversation.”
I noted Stone’s appearance. He wore the same style of jump suit that Charlie and Kate wore. He’d been beat up, too: he had a black eye, and dried blood traced from his split lip down through his beard. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in awhile, but the pupils were large: he was clearly terrified. He knew this wasn’t likely to end well for him.
Voltolini said, “Please introduce yourself to the people.”
“My name is Uruguay Stone,” he said, his voice hoarse. He fidgeted and didn’t look at the camera. “I’m one of the members of the Council of Refugees from the Republic.”
“Why is he doing this?” Kate whispered.
“He’s either been tortured or he’s been promised something,” I murmured back. “Possibly both.” Either way it wasn’t good.
“I see,” said Voltolini. “And tell us, are these the same refugees who perpetrated violence upon our nation, through leaders such as Jackson MacNamera?”
“He was never our leader,” Stone spat. Even under the circumstances, he still found the vehemence to abhor me. “And we never sanctioned his behavior.”
“So MacNamera acted on his own, then?” Voltolini raised his eyebrows, but wore a slight, condescending smile.
“Yes, him and a few others: umm, Nick Salazar, Jean Cross, Alec Chambers, Jacob Henderson, Pete Thorne, Eric Sansbury, Harry Krauss…” As he spoke their names, their images appeared on the screen briefly and then thumbnail sizes floated to the edges of the screen with their names underneath. My stomach turned over.
“They gave him a deal,” I whispered to Kate. “His life for information.”
“Who is this guy?” Charlie asked. But we ignored him as Stone went on.
“MacNamera and the hunters went onto Republic soil twice without the Council’s approval before we officially parted ways.” As Stone said we, the camera panned, showing about thirty of the refugees who had left with the Crone, though not the Crone herself, I noted. My heart sank. All of them were shackled, all standing on the same hillside. This must be the second half of the group, I realized, the group that didn’t fit on the first plane to New Estonia.
“And where were you headed when our agents apprehended you?”
Stone hesitated. New Estonia of course was considered the largest enemy of the Republic. “Out of the Republic,” he hedged.
“Where out of the Republic, and why?”
“To—Europe.” The lie was obvious even through the camera.
The Potentate said nothing to this, but his stare intensified, and Stone squirmed. “Many of your members have made it clear that your destination was New Estonia, which calls your loyalty to the Republic into grave doubt. That is, in fact, why you are shackled here today. Would you like to revise your answer?”
One of Stone’s eyelids began to tic. “We… were going to New Estonia, yes. Not to cause any harm to the Republic, but simply to start our own new lives!”
“And why should anyone wish to leave our glorious Republic? Did you not, truly, find it to be Eden? Were you not amply provided with all you could ever wish for here, before you decided to flee to the forest and set up a commune?”
“Tell them,” Kate hissed at Stone. “Tell them, here’s your chance, you’re on national television!”
“We… were,” acknowledged Stone. “Yes. Of course we were.”
“You coward,” Kate spat.
Voltolini smiled. Then he went on, “As you may know, MacNamera and his rebels murdered seven members of the Tribunal today. You have told us that you have information that will help the Republic to find those rebels and to bring them to justice. Tell us now what you know.”
Here we go, I thought.
“Yes,” said Stone. “MacNamera and Salazar, along with your beloved Kate Brandeis, and Will Anderson, intend to start a revolution.” Here Kate’s and Will’s pictures and names appeared on the screen briefly. “When we last saw them, they said they were headed for Beckenshire because they knew nobody would look for them there, and because Anderson said he believed it may be inhabitable now.”
“No,” Kate whispered.
“Beckenshire,” said the Potentate for emphasis, and he turned to the camera. “Citizens, you will remember that some thirty years ago, Beckenshire was the site of a major nuclear reactor meltdown. Our best scientists estimated at the time that it would be uninhabitable for 2300 years. But the terrorists apparently believe different!”
“See!” croaked Denise. “Uninhabitable for 2300 years! We can’t go there!”
“Anything else?” Voltolini asked Stone. “What are the terrorists’ exact plans for how to start a revolution? What is their strategy? Did it involve killing the Tribunal members today?”
“I—” Stone clearly wanted to have an answer for this, but wasn’t creative enough to make one up on the spot. “I’m afraid we parted ways before they could tell us specifics. I would assume that was part of the plan, yes. If they were at the palace itself, presumably they wished to assassinate you personally, Mr. Potentate.” Just as it looked like Voltolini was about to wrap up the conversation, Stone interjected, “Also, they’re using the bullet trains to get around! They stole some government ID chips to board!”
“Ah,” said Voltolini, and then told the cameras, “Fortunately our team is working o
n a solution to this security leak as we speak. Citizens need not fear terrorists loose on the bullet trains; within about 24 hours this should no longer be possible.”
“Better keep the car, then!” said Charlie cheerfully.
“Back to you, Jillian,” said Voltolini, with a broad smile. Stone’s eyes grew wide, and he began to squirm before the cameras cut away.
Jillian’s concerned, perfect face reappeared on camera. “Uruguay Stone hoped to purchase his own pardon with the information he revealed regarding fellow terrorists MacNamera and the others. However, we have verified that the rebels caught tonight were, in fact, bound for New Estonia, where they intended to join forces with our enemies. And as you know, the Potentate has a strict policy of not negotiating with terrorists.”
The camera cut again to the hillside, where twenty-seven members of our former group stood in handcuffs and jumpsuits, facing a firing squad.
“Brittany!” Kate breathed as she saw her friend, just as they reached the count of three and fired. The whole group of them collapsed, and Kate covered her face with her hands.
“I am happy to report that justice has been carried out, and citizens can sleep easy tonight,” Jillian said. “The Potentate has also ensured that any terrorists residing in Beckenshire will not be able to terrorize our Republic again.”
My stomach turned over.
“Kate,” I whispered, pulling her hands away from her eyes gently, so she could see what I saw.
The cameras cut to an aerial view of our brief home.
It had been completely decimated.
Chapter 32: Kate
When the screens went blank, we drove in silence for awhile. Finally Charlie asked, “So if we’re not headed to Beckenshire, I’m gonna need alternate directions.”
“Friedrichsburg,” Jackson croaked.
“Molly,” I whispered. Aside from Jackson and Will, she was my only real friend among the rebels.
Jackson added, “And Pete, Nelson, Brenda, Rachel, Sam…”
How many more deaths? I sunk my head into my hands, and said, “This is my fault! If I hadn’t left the group and gone off on my own, none of this would have happened… I sentenced our entire group to death!”
“That’s not true, Kate.” I felt Jackson’s hand stroking my back. “You shouldn’t have gone off on your own private mission, no. But it was Uruguay who betrayed them. Not you.”
I looked up at him hopefully. “Do you think the hunters survived? Will and Nick and Alec and Jean?”
“And Roger and Jacob too,” Jackson said. “I hope so. That’s why I want to go to Friedrichsburg. They might not know what happened yet. They’re probably not in Friedrichsburg anymore, but it’s thirty some miles to Beckenshire from there, so they were probably somewhere in the forest in between the two when the bombs fell. If they weren’t close enough to Beckenshire to get hit, once we get close enough, we can track them.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, and turned around so I could see everyone in the car at the same time. “I came here in the first place, back on the grid, to find Charlie and broadcast the truth.” I paused. “Why not now, before the people have been thoroughly brainwashed not to trust me?”
Nobody replied at first.
“Now?” Charlie asked finally.
“Yes, now! It might be too late already, but the longer I wait, the more likely that becomes! There’s got to be some dissonance with most of the citizens right now, since they’ve adored me for so long. We have to capitalize on that while we can, right?”
It was my mom who broke the silence.
“How could you do this to us?” she whispered.
I blinked at her, confused. “What?”
“How could you, Kathryn? You don’t really love us! How can you put us in so much danger? Don’t you think of us at all?”
This flabbergasted me. “I don’t—”
“How could you do this?” my mom wailed again.
It took me a second to find words. “This isn’t about you, and you don’t have to come!” I shouted, furious. “This is the one thing I can really do to contribute to this cause, and even if I don’t, there’s probably a 95% chance that we’re all going to die no matter what we do! Most of our group stayed behind in Beckenshire thinking they were perfectly safe, and they’re probably all dead now! And the hunters could have been there too when the bombs were dropped, for all we know!”
I choked back a sob, thinking of Will. It should have occurred to me that I might never see him again before he went to Friedrichsburg. I wished desperately that we’d had a better parting.
I looked from Jackson to Charlie. Jackson’s face was unreadable, so I turned to my brother in desperation. “Tomorrow clearly isn’t promised to any of us. So at least I want to do as much damage as I can before I go. Will you help me?”
Charlie set his jaw, and gave me a single nod. I almost cried with relief. Then he added, “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Charlie pointed at Jackson. “He comes with us.”
I whirled around to face Jackson, but before I could work on him, my mom wailed again, “What about us? You’re going to just drag us into this without even asking our consent?”
“No,” said Jackson. The word hit me like a punch in the stomach, but then he went on, speaking to my parents, “You shouldn’t have to come with us, but the problem is, we only have one signal disruptor. And the government is almost certainly tracking your brainwaves too now, because they know you guys will be with us.”
I turned to Jackson, wide-eyed. “So… does that mean you’ll come with us, then?”
“Well, we have to work out the details first,” he said, looking at Charlie. “But we probably will have to build a second signal disruptor first—”
Charlie shook his head, looking at Jackson through the rearview mirror. “We couldn’t use a signal disruptor while we’re trying to send a broadcast anyway, though. So we can just give it to Mom and Dad, and send them somewhere a little ways away from the studio we pick to wait for us until we’re done. Far enough away to not be in the line of fire, but close enough to see what happens and escape if things go south. We can leave them in the getaway vehicle.”
My mom started to cry. “But where would we go?”
“You’d have to get to Friedrichsburg and go from there into the forest to hide,” said Charlie. “With luck you might run into Will and the hunters, like Jackson said…” Then he shook his head and said, “Man, I wish Will was with us. He’d definitely come in handy right about now.”
“I know,” I murmured. But he’s probably already dead.
I dug my fingernails into my palms and squeezed my eyes shut.
Chapter 33: Jackson
“I know where there’s a broadcasting station near here,” Kate said, trying to compose herself. She sniffled, wiped her face, and told Charlie, “Get back on the freeway and head to Greensborough.” I assumed that that was another nearby city. “It’s a small studio, but it’s big enough.”
The sun had set already, so I pointed out, “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to actually broadcast.”
Kate nodded. “I know, I just figured we could get nearby and find somewhere to crash for the night. We can do the broadcast in the morning when everyone’s there and people will be awake to see it. I don’t know how we’re going to get everyone at the station to either help us or leave, though…”
“Um,” said Charlie, as he waited at the freeway on ramp. He held up the pistol his dad had been shooting with and raised his eyebrows at Kate. “No ideas at all, huh? Really?”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody!” Kate snapped. “You forget, most of these are my friends!”
Charlie shrugged. “That’s cool. Maybe Jackson can hypnotize them or something.”
I snorted. “Not a skill I ever learned. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Are you serious?” Charlie asked me, and met my eyes in the rearvie
w mirror. “All that meditation and stuff, and you never learned actual mind control? What’s the point of that?”
I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but I figured he was probably serious at least on some level. I couldn’t really blame him—as a boy, I’d had similar thoughts when Grandfather had first taught me to control my own mind. Could I translate that to controlling the minds of others? Because if I could, I’d reasoned, I could get my teacher to give me A’s even when I didn’t do my homework. I could convince Hannah Liechtenfield, the prettiest girl in the seventh grade, to go out with me. I could make my aunt and uncle do all my chores for me…
Before I gathered the courage to ask Grandfather about this, I’d mentioned it to Uncle Patrick. Uncle Patrick had glowered at me. “Jackson, there is a word for controlling others against their will. Do you know what it is?”
I shook my head. “Power?”
“Witchcraft.”
His tone was menacing enough that I’d never pursued the subject further with either of them.
Rather than go into all of this, I told Charlie, “I do my best not to manipulate people when I don’t have to. Mind control is your government’s specialty, not mine.”
“What about when you do have to?” Charlie pressed. “Isn’t it better to make people want to do what you want, instead of threatening to shoot them if they don’t?”
