Defector

by Susanne Winnacker

  “I’ll take you to our common area first. You can meet Holly there,” Zach said. Excitement flooded me at the thought. He pressed the button for −3, and my stomach plummeted along with the elevator. Zach didn’t seem to mind the enclosed space or the fact that we were dozens of feet below the surface. Had he grown up in this place? I couldn’t imagine a small boy running around between ammunition and tanks. There was so much we had to talk about. I couldn’t wait to find out more about him and his life.

  The elevator came to a halt, and the door slid open, revealing an enormous room with an open kitchen across from us. Pans and pots hung from stainless steel hooks attached to the ceiling. A sole cook was stirring something in an enormous copper pot. It wasn’t mealtime, which probably explained why he was alone. His gaze briefly darted toward Zach and me before it returned to the six massive flat-screen TVs that lined the wall to my right. They were muted, but were showing horse racing.

  Tables and chairs were scattered around. They weren’t white plastic or stainless steel, like you might expect to find in a cafeteria. It looked as if every member of Abel’s Army had taken their dining room furniture with them and put it here. There were round and square tables, some big, others small, made from wood ranging from maple to oak, and some of the chairs had old-fashioned flowery covers, while others were upholstered with trendy leather. There was even a small pink table with four matching pink chairs, which looked as if they were meant for kids. Were there children in headquarters?

  I didn’t get the chance to ask Zach. A door opened at the other end of the common area, and Holly stepped through it—just as I remembered her. Red, short hair and a wide smile. She looked healthy—and happy. We started running at the same time, and I almost slipped on the smooth granite floor before we finally fell into each other’s arms. I hugged her as tightly as I could, until she made a small sound of protest. I pulled back and quickly scanned her face. She wasn’t pale, and her eyes were bright with joy. “Are you okay?” I whispered. I didn’t want Zach to overhear us, but when I glanced back to where he’d been, he was gone. Apparently, he didn’t want to supervise our reunion.

  “I’m fine,” Holly said. Relief surged through me.

  “Are you sure?”

  She let out her bell-like laugh. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “I was terrified when you were kidnapped. Did they hurt you?”

  Holly led me to a dark wooden table, and we sat down. “They didn’t do anything to me—except make me realize that I was on the wrong side.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Wrong side? You mean the FEA?” It wasn’t as if I was thrilled about the FEA’s actions, but hearing Holly say it came as a shock. She didn’t know about the extent of their betrayal yet.

  For a moment, anger flashed across her face. “The FEA has been holding me back. I always felt like a failure with them. They made me feel like less, especially Major. I’ve been with Abel’s Army for only a couple of weeks, and they’ve already helped me perfect my Variation more than the FEA ever did. I feel like everything’s possible, like I can do great things.”

  I touched her hand. “That’s good,” I said tentatively. “So you want to stay here? You don’t want to return to the FEA?”

  She tensed, her eyes hard. “I won’t ever go back to the FEA. Why?” Suddenly she sounded worried. “Do you want to?”

  “I—” Before I could reply, the elevator opened with a bing, and Zach stepped out. His eyes found me, and he smiled hesitantly.

  “I think he wants you to go with him. Abel’s probably waiting for you,” Holly said, rising from the chair. My expression must have dropped, because she added, “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other later.” She gave me a quick hug. I turned slowly, unwilling to leave her behind, but she was already heading toward the cook.

  “So how was your reunion?” Zach asked the moment I reached him.

  “It was good.” Holly looked at ease as she talked to the cook, who’d finally torn his gaze away from the TVs. This wasn’t how I’d imagined my rescue mission would end.

  Zach didn’t press for more, but I could tell that he was curious. He led me into the elevator and pressed the button marked −6.

  I took his hand and squeezed. It felt surreal to be able to do that after all these years, and I needed his support. His turquoise eyes scanned my face. “Are you all right?”

  I squared my shoulders. “Yeah. This is just a lot to process.” I swallowed. “And I’m nervous. This is the first time I’m meeting my . . . my dad.”

  “I know,” he said with a smile.

  The elevator halted, and the metal doors slipped open with a soft whoosh. I took a deep breath as I followed Zach out. Except for the lack of windows, this room didn’t look like we were underground. The walls were painted a bright, clean white and the floor was covered with birch planks. I could smell vanilla and maple syrup. The room we entered was huge—at least eight hundred square feet—and square. From the looks of it, it was a living room, kitchen, and workspace at once. Several doors led to other rooms. One of them opened, and a man stepped out. He was smiling.

  “Finally,” he said. “I thought the pancakes I made were going to get cold. I didn’t know what you like, but I figured everyone loves pancakes.” He was tall, with short graying brown hair and, of course, those turquoise eyes. I froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything.

  “They’re made from a mix, though, and probably burned, so don’t get too excited,” Zach said, looking over his shoulder at me. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t place. Maybe excitement mixed with anxiety. We’d all been waiting for this moment. I really didn’t want it to get awkward, but I was tongue-tied and could feel my eyes tear up.

  Abel raised his eyebrows. “You like pancakes, don’t you?” He talked to me like it was perfectly normal for us to be in the same room, perfectly normal for him to be offering me pancakes, like we’d been spending all our lives together, like we weren’t practically strangers. And maybe for him I wasn’t a stranger. He could remember the memories Zach had shown me, and probably many more. I only wished I could remember them too.

  I gave a jerky nod. “I love pancakes.” My voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. He was striding toward me, his smile warm and welcoming. There were crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. From smiling too much? I wished I’d shared more of the moments that had carved those lines into his face. I felt a lump rising into my throat.

  “I’ve waited so many years for this day,” he said as he stepped in front of me. He left a few feet between us, like he was worried that coming closer might spook me. I looked up at him. Tiny worry lines appeared around his mouth. I probably looked like I was going to burst into tears any second.

  “Have you?” I croaked.

  He bridged the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. I relished the feel of his heartbeat against my ear. He felt warm and strong. My dad. This was how it was supposed to be, how it should have been all my life. My mother and the FEA had kept this from me. After all the years of searching for something, of feeling like there was a piece missing in me, I had all the pieces of my story. I finally felt whole. Warmth filled me up as I tightened my hold on him, and he in turn did the same. Tears squeezed out of my eyes. “Soon our whole family will be together again. The FEA has kept us apart for long enough. Once we convince your mother to join us and free my brother, everything will be well.”

  I pulled back with a sad smile. “I don’t think Mom will ever agree to join us. She told me that she hated being a Variant, that all she wanted was a normal life.”

  His expression darkened. “Normal life. Who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not?”

  I shrugged.

  “The FEA has destroyed many lives,” he said bitterly. He shook his head and gave me a bright smile. “I shouldn’t bring this day down with my feelings.”

  “But y
ou’re right,” I said quietly. Sadness overwhelmed me. “In the last two years, Major used me, made me feel like I was safe, only to break my trust. Everything I believed in was taken away.” It still hurt thinking about it. It hurt a lot. I wrapped my arms around my chest as if that could help hold me together. Zach had been picking at the pancakes that were piled up on the kitchen counter, but now he came over to us.

  Abel touched my cheek tenderly. “You went through a lot. Your life until the FEA had been full of heartbreak and neglect, and then when you finally felt safe for the first time in your life, they took that away too. I hate to see you suffering. That’s too much of a burden for someone as young as you. I’ll help you. We’ll make it all better.”

  I stared into his turquoise eyes, trying to determine what he meant. Zach moved closer and brought his fingertips up to my right temple. I tensed briefly, but the look in my father’s eyes banished my worries.

  I could feel a tug at my memories. They flashed through my mind as Zach browsed through them like a catalog. Alec and I watching a movie, laughing, kissing. Kate telling me about Alec’s Dual Variation. Alec admitting he’d lied. Major giving me the pills. My mother having a shouting match with one of her boyfriends. The files with the notes about me. One by one, they all turned murky. The images were coming quicker, blurring in my mind. My mother’s face when I helped her shower, the brief flash of tenderness on her face.

  Zach’s touch loosened for a second, but then his fingers pressed against my temple again. Alec kissing Kate. Alec telling me it was complicated. Major telling me I’d have to go to the loony bin. My memories started trickling away. I felt better already. But what would be left of me if all the horrible experiences from my past were gone? Who would I be? Alec always said that his past made him who he was. Who would I be once my past was taken away from me? I searched Zach’s eyes. I could see my own memories reflected in them as he swallowed them up. My head began throbbing, and emptiness spread in me, and with it came a bone-chilling cold.

  “Hold on,” Zach said softly. “Sometimes cold is a side effect. It’ll be over soon.” My teeth started chattering, but I trusted his voice. He hadn’t betrayed me. More scenes flashed in Zach’s eyes. There was a funeral. There was the house in Livingston, and a boy with blond hair who lay in a puddle of blood. There was fog and a boy with a knife. There was a guy with gray eyes and a dragon tattoo on his shoulder. But I didn’t know who he was.

  “You’ll feel better soon,” Zach whispered. Images followed his words. Memories—happy memories—snuck into the empty corners of my mind, filling them with warmth and light. There was a boy running through a sprinkler in underpants, yowling as the water hit him, and a toddler in diapers, a few feet away, sitting on the grass laughing. There was a Christmas tree with multicolored lights that bathed the room in rainbow colors. There was Dad carrying me on his arm, setting me down on the ground, handing me a present. My small fingers ripped at the wrapping paper. Zach knelt beside the baby, beside me, and unwrapped his own present. There was laughter and warmth and smiles and hope. I blinked. The memories crowded my brain, filled me with a sensation of wholeness, of belonging.

  The fingertips dropped from my temples. Someone stroked my cheek. I turned my head and stared at a man with turquoise eyes. His hand cupped my head, and warmth flooded me. I leaned into the arm that held me. Slowly my vision cleared, and I focused on the face in front of me. “Tessa?” said a familiar voice. A good voice.

  I smiled. “Dad?”

  “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Welcome home,” said another voice. Zach. He was smiling too.

  I relaxed.

  Home.

  I was home.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book is a solitary activity, but preparing a book for publication isn’t. A heap of people are involved and I wish I could thank every single person by name, but then this would turn into a novel.

  I’d like to take the time to thank my wonderful agent Jill Grinberg and her team (with a special mention to Katelyn and Cheryl).

  And once again my sincerest thanks go to the Razorbill team, especially my lovely editor, Caroline Donofrio, for giving my book a home.

  As usual, the biggest thank you goes to my husband. I couldn’t do this without you. To put it in the words of Snape: “Always.”