He’d refused to alter his appearance for meetings. He’d refused to let anyone negotiate but him. He’d refused to let anyone shoulder what he called “his burdens.” He couldn’t seem to grasp that living a brainwashed life was a burden everyone bore.
The closer I flew to Castledale, the harder my heart pounded. I knew how to get into the city. I knew how to find Fret. Those things didn’t worry me. I hadn’t been to Castledale for over three years. Whenever it came up as an assignment, I made sure someone else took it. Castledale didn’t hold anything but hateful words and angry silence, and I wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between my brother and me.
As the sun settled to sleep, I landed a few miles away from the border of Castledale and found the backpack Trek had mentioned. The tightening in my gut didn’t have anything to do with hunger, though I ordered a stack of toast and a mug of hot chocolate.
My breath steamed out of my mouth, and my fingers ached with cold. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to cache Saffediene and make sure she’d made it to a safe house okay. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
Instead I zipped my jacket up to my throat and shoved my hands into my pockets. Then I powered on my freshly juiced board and entered Castledale just as the curfew alarm sounded.
I stuck to the shadows, avoiding the guards chatting with the noncompliant people still in the streets. The guards didn’t have orders to arrest anyone, and the pair I watched accepted a drink from a man and settled on the steps, laughing.
I watched the totally noncompliant behavior, proud that I’d played a part in achieving it on such a grand scale. I swallowed the bitterness at having to eradicate such freedoms in the next twelve hours.
I darted across the street to the sound of the track system. It should’ve shut down by now, yet people spilled from the train after it stopped. They laughed, they touched each other casually, they moved down the street in twos and threes, unconcerned about curfew or noise restrictions.
I used their ruckus as cover to sprint down the sidewalk, north into the City Center. The city wasn’t quite as large as Freedom, but Castledale still housed towering high-rises and impeccably clean streets.
At curfew, Fret would be on the move, hopefully toward the only hideout I knew about. Fifteen minutes and many random turns later, I stood outside a shiny glass building. Under Director Hightower this door would’ve been locked. Here, in Castledale, it wasn’t.
I marched through the lobby, my shoulders square and my adrenaline running on high.
Outside the last room on the left, I paused. The door required no special knock. There was no black plastic to keep prying eyes out. In Castledale there are no prying eyes.
I pushed open the door and entered. A long oval table was covered with tech gadgets and snacks and microchips. Several people, both men and women, clustered around a screen.
Director Pederson sat at the head of the table, engrossed in a conversation with my brother.
Fret Bower.
When he saw me, he stood slowly. The chatter died into silence. I must have looked haggard, because Director Pederson waved, and a girl brought me a glass of water and a wet cloth.
I ignored them both. I stared at my brother. He’d had some serious eye enhancements, and now his irises blazed a freaky green. His hair, still the color of murky water, fell to precisely protocol length. He played the Informant as well as I did, conforming during the day and planning a secret overthrow in the hours between dusk and dawn.
“Fret,” I said. “Can I have a word?”
“Say it here,” he said, his shoulders so stiff and his lips barely moving around the words.
I had so much more than just one. And I said them all, my voice sure and strong.
* * *
By the time I finished speaking, Director Pederson had sweat dripping into his eyes, and Fret had fallen back into his chair.
The people in the room seemed to breathe as one. Someone coughed, and the moment broke. Director Pederson stood and began issuing commands. Fret joined him, his voice the only one I heard in my head.
Fret ordered the immediate evacuation of the Insiders. He migrated toward me as he spoke. “We’ll be out in six hours.” Fret studied me, his expression softening. “Thank you for coming to warn us, Zenn.”
I nodded, finding it crazy-hard to swallow. “Can you get the population compliant in time?”
“If anyone can do it, Director Pederson can.” We both turned to watch the Director in action. When he spoke, people responded. The spark in his eyes danced, and when he motioned for us to follow him out of the room, Fret and I went.
Back in his personal quarters, Director Pederson continued to issue directives to his networks inside the city. Sirens wailed. Lights flashed. I stood at the window, watching the streets empty, listening to the public alert system announce General Director Darke’s imminent arrival and the need for compliance.
I wasn’t an empath, but I definitely felt a panic that hadn’t existed when I’d arrived in the city.
That anxiety bled through my body too, when a dome of techtricity activated around the city sealing everyone—including me—inside.
Jag
29. I didn’t want Thane to fly out of my sight, but that couldn’t be helped. So I assigned him the clones near Indy, where she could watch him. I was also worried about leaving Vi alone with Indy, but again, that couldn’t be helped.
After I agreed to meet everyone back at the safe house, I shot straight into the sky and arced over the city toward the eastern border. I descended in front of two guards, not even bothering to get off my board. “Sleep.”
They dropped to the ground, fast asleep. I flew south around the perimeter, repeating my command over and over. The clones were no match for my voice. They didn’t seem to have talent at all. They didn’t even focus on me before they began snoring.
Halfway around the circle, I found where Thane had obviously started. I dismounted and examined the sleeping clones. I knelt next to one and commanded him to wake up. His eyes, a nondescript blue set against his white-as-snow skin, opened immediately. “What’s your name?”
“Name?” he asked.
“What’s your talent?”
“Name?” he repeated.
“Useless.” I stood up, brushing my hands on my jeans. Vi touched down next to me. “They’re not a threat,” I said, thinking of the intense fear Cash had held in his voice when he’d said, Subject 261 will be brought in for DNA donation.
These were the standard clones Freedom had always produced. They were castoffs of experiments that didn’t work. I looked around, expecting the real clones to emerge from the sky. It remained cold and clear, and utterly empty. “This is too easy.”
“Let’s get to the safe house,” Vi said.
* * *
Vi had practically squeezed my hand off by the time we arrived at the hideout. “My mother, I mean, she—”
We waited for Vi to continue, but she just shook her head. I felt her desperation, her fear, and a longing so deep that I wondered at its source. Then I got it.
“You don’t need Ty as a buffer anymore,” I said gently. “You’re your own person. And either your mother will like that or she won’t.” I eased my hand out of hers and brushed her hair out of her teary eyes. “I like you.”
She tried to smile, but it came off wrong. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”
When I turned toward the door, Thane was wiping his eyes dry. Something inside me shifted. I realized—for possibly the first time—that he’d lost a lot over the last decade as well. Just like Vi had. Just like I had.
Just like we all had.
Indy opened the door, and we were met with noise. Voices assaulted me on all sides. Some people argued in groups, some watched vids, some spoke in hushed tones, and some worked on tech at tables. The smell of sweat and blood and canned food filled the air. Garbage littered the floor. Standing in the middle of it all, and moving from group to group, was a tall brunette.
A long ponytail hun
g down her back, and she kept slicking her bangs off her sweaty forehead. She wore jeans and a tank top, despite the fact that the March weather called for long sleeves.
She turned when the winter air filtered into the room, but she didn’t stop talking until she saw Thane. Then she walked away from her conversation and wove her way to us.
“Violet Schoenfeld,” she said, her voice full of emotion. I felt it infect me with love, with sadness, with fury.
The woman drew Vi into a tight hug. “You’re alive,” she kept saying. “My baby girl is alive.”
Vi cried—that’s right, she cried. I knew from experience that it took a helluva lot to make Vi cry. She was either really, really angry or really, really scared, or—I didn’t know what else.
“Ty,” she choked out, and then it became the Schoenfeld family reunion. Thane hugged both Vi and her mom, and they were all crying, while Indy and I stood there gaping at each other like we weren’t sure if this was real or not.
Vi gathered herself together first and shook off Thane. Then she stepped away from her mom and cleared her throat. “Mom, uh, this is my boyfriend—this is Jag Barque.” She sidled next to me and gripped my hand. “Jag. My mother, Laurel.”
“Hello,” I said, extending my free hand and wondering if I should be afraid to meet Vi’s mother. “Thanks for taking in my people. I hear you’ve got a system to get messages out to cities across the Union.”
“Jag Barque.” Laurel shook my hand and stepped back to appraise me. “I knew you were young, but I had no idea you were this young.”
I bristled, but held my tongue.
“He’s the leader of the Resistance,” Indy said. “Has been for years. He knows more—”
“I know what he knows,” Laurel interrupted. “I know all about him. Jag Barque is a legend.”
I was very aware of Vi’s pythonic grip on my fingers. I wished her mom hadn’t used the word “legend.” That wouldn’t help Vi’s insecurity issues about which of us was more important. I glanced at the dozens of people who were staring at us. They elbowed each other and whispered my name.
“If we all already know each other, let’s move right on to business, shall we? We need to gather our Insiders here as soon as possible,” I said. “Word is you’re the leader of an underground communication loop. True?”
“True,” Laurel said. “Thorne, Ace, activate the moles.” She gestured to me as two men approached us. “Message, Mr. Barque?”
“All Insiders need to relocate to the Southern Region, city of Grande. We launch an attack on Freedom in fourteen days.”
“Seven days,” a voice corrected.
Saffediene stood in the doorway, her hair wild, her face lined with exhaustion.
“Seven days? Where’s Zenn?”
“It’s a long story.” She strode toward me. “But yes, seven days. If we wait much longer, we won’t succeed.”
“Why not? What do you know?”
“Zenn left me a message at Arrow Falls. He met with Trek, then left for Castledale. The General is leaving Freedom tomorrow morning, which makes Freedom an easier target. Hightower is canceling school and has moved all upper-level students into the professional Rises. Trek and Starr are worried that if we don’t strike in the next week, we’ll be too late.”
I felt like I was preparing for a war I couldn’t win—especially not in seven cracking days. I needed a dark room to lie down in and think. Maybe reason it all out with someone who could shed more light on the subject.
Everyone stared at me, waiting for my next direction. I felt like the weight of the world rested on me. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this, I thought, knowing only Vi could hear.
Her eyes softened. She nodded. Yes, you can. You can, Jag.
“Is that even enough time for our people to get here?” I asked.
“Our people can get here in a week if you tell them to get here in a week,” Laurel said.
And she was right.
“We can use the teleporter rings to bring them in,” I said. “We can evacuate a city in hours, and move to the next.”
I looked at Thorne and Ace. “Message: All Insiders must relocate to the Southern Region, city of Grande, by March twenty-seventh. Six days. We enter Freedom on the twenty-eighth.” I turned to Laurel. “Is my brother here? He’ll have the teleporter rings for your runners.”
“He’s in the weapons room,” she said, motioning for Thorne and Ace to get a move on already. They disappeared down a hallway. I watched them go, numb. Laurel said something about breakfast, and Vi led me through the still-staring crowd. We made it into the safety of the dark hallway before I drew her into a desperate embrace.
“Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” I whispered into her neck. “Please, tell me we can win this.”
She just held me, her silence saying more than her words ever could.
Zenn
30. Fret handed me a microchip. “Help us out with a few things, okay?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to mask the worry in my voice. If the tech barrier was up, how were we going to get out? I managed to keep my feelings submerged, and Fret went back to his communication port. He issued directions from Director Pederson.
I put the chip in my wrist-port and brought up the info. I scanned the evacuation to-do list and knew I needed to clear the tunnels and activate the emergency teleporters.
I suppressed a shudder. I couldn’t think of anything I hated more than being trapped underground. I could practically smell the confining stench of the cavern I’d been hiding in for the past few weeks. Surely the tunnels here in Castledale would be just as stale. Just as airless.
Especially if they haven’t been cleared in a while. Or ever.
I contacted Brynn Fowler—the girl listed at the top of the Evacuation Emergency Plan. We cached back and forth a few times, and she sent me the coordinates to the underground entrance. I left without saying good-bye to Fret, because he was crazy-busy. I did catch Director Pederson’s eye, and he waved at me as he continued to speak to someone over a handheld communicator.
Outside, the cold air sliced like techtricity through my lungs. It should be warming up, but in the dead of night the chill overrode any thought of spring. As I flew, I thought of Saffediene. Surely she’d check the message center in Arrow Falls. Hopefully Jag would be able to mobilize the Insiders.
When I arrived on the outskirts of the city, about ten yards from the barrier, a group of people had already gathered.
“You must be Zenn,” a girl said as she approached. “I’m Brynn.”
“Where do we need to clear?” I asked.
“I tried caching you,” she said as we joined the group. “These guys just arrived from Grande. Jag Barque has authorized the evacuation Union-wide. He sent teleporter rings, so we don’t need to use the tunnels.”
Relief flooded my body. Saffediene had gotten the message—and she’d made it back to the safe house. And surprise, surprise, Jag had listened.
I was supremely glad Vi wasn’t here. I could already hear her voice in my head, chastising me. Come on, she’d say. Jag listens.
I needed to listen to the real conversation in front of me, not the one in my head with a girl who could hardly stand to look at me.
“. . . only two rings,” one of the runners from Grande was saying. “But if we start now, we can have your people out in a couple of hours. Then we need to get to Baybridge, which Van also knows has been sending false feeds.”
“Is Director Hightower en route to Baybridge?” I asked. Trek hadn’t said anything about the Director leaving Freedom.
“We don’t think so,” a runner said. “Jag doesn’t think he’ll leave his city unprotected. We believe he sent someone else.”
“Who?” Brynn asked.
The runners shrugged. “Don’t know. Our job is to evacuate Castledale and Baybridge by morning. We need to get started.”
Brynn looked at me. “I’m going to send you the list of Insiders here in Castledale. Can yo
u message them the coordinates? I’ll start at the top, you start at the bottom.”
“Sure thing.” A moment later, a list appeared in my cache. I started sending message after message. Ten minutes later, people started appearing in the field.
Wearing one ring, a runner could take two Insiders to the safe house by linking arms and holding on tight. I watched the evacuation, a sense of rightness settling in my system.
* * *
By three a.m., only Brynn, Fret, and I remained in the field with the two runners from Grande.
“That’s everyone,” Fret said. “Director Pederson will have the city and the general population in full compliance for General Darke.”
“All right,” Brynn said. “Let’s get out of here. Thanks, guys. Good luck in Baybridge.” She linked arms with one runner, and Fret did the same with the other.
They disappeared, leaving me alone. Thirty seconds later, Vi appeared.
I cried out in surprise. I glanced over my shoulder as if Director Hightower or General Darke would descend and snatch her away from me. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you in,” she said. “I wanted a minute to talk to you. Alone.”
It still amazed me how easily she could break down my barriers. How quickly I turned from someone who knew what he was doing into someone who didn’t.
“Okay, talk.”
But she didn’t. She watched me for a moment, and I got the distinct impression she was rooting around inside my head. “What do you see in there?”
“I’m sorry, Zenn,” she said. “For—”
“We’ve been through all this,” I said. “You don’t need to apologize. It actually makes this whole situation with us worse.” I held out my hand.
“What?”
“The ring. I just want to sleep.”
Hurt passed through her eyes, but I didn’t care. She’d chosen. During the summer she’d chosen Jag. All throughout the fall and winter she’d chosen not to remember—until Raine had started talking about Jag. When the transport picked us up three weeks ago, she’d chosen again.
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