Swarm

by Scott Westerfeld

  Flicker stood wary, listening. “Sounds like they have a lot of reminders of you. Maybe they just need you around more.”

  “They need me gone. To be free.” Here came that dying feeling again, as he swept into the bag all the pictures and handmade cards Mom had laid out on her bedside table, trying to remember him. She might hunt for these things for a while, but when she didn’t find them, her memories would fade.

  Peace at last. Closure, of a kind.

  “Thibault, listen!” Flicker cried. “I feel like we made some progress down there in the kitchen. We can make this a project.” She sat on the bed. “I make you more visible to them. I attach you to something that’s easier to remember, the same way Lily’s stories about you did for me.”

  Some small piece of china he’d bought for his mother broke as it fell into the bag. He looked up at Flicker, into the stream of her words, each of them tightening his chest.

  “We’ll keep trying,” she went on. “We’ll start with your mom and Emile. And then we’ll make your dad and Auguste take notice.”

  “And what if we die?” he said.

  She jerked back like he’d slapped her.

  “You know the stakes here, Flicker. You saw that crowd tear Davey apart. Swarm hunted those two until he caught them. He didn’t give up.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Flicker. If I die when we walk out of this house in five minutes, or next week, or whenever he gets to us, you think I want to leave my family like this?”

  Flicker put her hands to her face.

  “Dad and Auguste in denial, but finding all this evidence around the house for the rest of their lives? Emile confused, calling my number and getting nothing? Mom losing her grip on reality?” He heard the note of despair in his own voice, felt the sting of self-pitying tears.

  Get control. Find the Zen. Abjure connections.

  He put his hand on Flicker’s shoulder—as if to reassure her, but really because she was his lifeline to reality, to still existing.

  “Maybe I’ll come back one day, okay?” He tried to keep his voice steady. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to do that project. But with Swarm in Cambria, I can’t leave them like this, in limbo.”

  A sudden tear dashed down Flicker’s cheek. He hardly saw it before she wiped it away.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice collapsing. “But the Zeroes need us now. Let me help you do this faster.”

  “Downstairs,” he said, to steady her. “Where Auguste is watching TV. The photo albums are over the left speaker. Grab the pale blue one and the orange one—shit, can you find them by colors?”

  “I’ll get Auguste to look at them.” Flicker stood up and was gone.

  He had everything of Mom’s. In Auguste’s room there was only that Patty Low poster that Thibault had signed for his birthday. Love from your bro, T.

  So pathetic. Just one step away from Remember meeeeeee!

  Emile had made it easy, putting all his Thibault stuff on his desk, like he was trying to remember him these days. The thought of his little brother assembling all these objects hit Thibault with an anguish that almost stopped his breathing.

  He was quick, efficient, as coldly Zen as he could be. Into the bag with it. Gone.

  Here came Flicker. Someone was following her up the stairs. God, he didn’t want to face Dad again.

  But it was Auguste, all busy sight lines. He watched as Thibault opened the pale blue album and started taking out photos.

  “What are you guys doing?”

  A photo of the family around the campfire dropped into the shopping bag.

  “I’m borrowing these for an art project,” Thibault said. “Only the ones I’m in.”

  Auguste’s attention flicked from the album to Thibault’s face and back. Thibault reached up and snipped that twitching signal. Dead to you, bro. Don’t worry about me even a second longer.

  Auguste’s attention slid to Flicker. As Thibault closed the first album, she took it from the pile and held it out.

  “Would you mind putting this back on the shelf downstairs, Auguste?” she said calmly.

  “Sure.” He took it, frowning, and walked away.

  A few minutes later Thibault dumped the last album on Emile’s desk, stood, and picked up the bag.

  It felt as heavy as stones.

  “One last thing,” he said.

  Flicker followed him out and along the hall. Her senses were all on high alert—it was like being wrapped in attentive cotton wool. He pushed through it toward the landing.

  But then he passed his old bedroom—Grand-mère’s now, the door closed for her morning nap. “Um, two last things.”

  Quietly he turned the door handle.

  The room was dim, curtains drawn. There lay Grand-mère, curled asleep under a throw—small, harmless, breathing slowly. He felt a terrible ache in his chest for her, for all these people he’d perplexed with his power. People he really did love, when it came down to it, and who’d have loved him just fine if they could’ve held him in their minds.

  He bent and kissed Grand-mère’s soft cheek, then went back to Flicker, who couldn’t see how his eyes swam.

  “Almost done,” he said in a hoarse whisper, not trusting his voice.

  Downstairs he led her, to the kitchen again. Dad had his back to the door. Mom and Emile looked up, but Thibault wiped their attention out of the air, wiped the anxiety from their faces, crossed to the table, and picked up Emile’s phone.

  “Are you sure?” Flicker whispered.

  “Shall we make some chocolat chaud, Emile?” Mom said too loudly.

  “Cool, yeah!” Emile got up and went to the fridge.

  Thibault opened Emile’s address book, which only held half a dozen names. He found Thibault (brother) and hit delete.

  Delete Contact?

  A steadying breath. Yes, he tapped.

  Then he took his mom’s phone and erased himself there, too.

  He looked up. He wanted one last hug from his brother and his mom, but he wasn’t going to upset them by taking it. Instead he took his father’s shoulder. The man looked up, a spark of fear in his eyes.

  “No hard feelings,” Thibault said, and the look faded to mere bafflement.

  Then he went to the door, picked up the heavy bag, and walked past Flicker down the hall.

  From now on, to this family he was truly nothing.

  CHAPTER 45

  BELLWETHER

  “GRACIAS, MAMÁ.”

  Nate watched the coffee pour into his cup, already imagining its taste when he added cream and sugar. Rich and galvanizing, the perfect thing to shake off this looming sense of dread.

  The whole family was here at the table. The three sisters were looking at him a little expectantly, waiting for Nate to grace them with his attention. It should have been easy to shelter himself in that glow. Here at home, he was always the golden child.

  But he couldn’t focus his power. Not since he’d watched a Zero die.

  Fixing that seemed like a lot to ask of one cup of coffee, but it was a start. He tipped the sugar bowl, watched the crystals stream.

  “My bike has a flat already,” Gabby announced.

  Nate offered her a sad smile. “And it only took twenty-four hours.”

  Of course, Papi had bought the Mercedes only a few months ago, and it was gone too. Not just a tire—the whole thing. Now was probably a good time to confess, with the whole family here to cushion the news.

  But an unfamiliar feeling settled over Nate—indecision.

  Once his father called the cops, they’d start by tracking down the Mercedes. And if Ren wound up in jail, she’d be defenseless against Swarm. Nate didn’t want to help kill another Zero, even one who’d painted a big target on him and his friends.

  Of course, Ren had been on the run long enough to know about fancy theft-prevention systems, right? By now she’d have ditched the Mercedes.

  The family waited, still poised for Nate to break the silence. They always knew w
hen he needed quiet at breakfast, but today his mood had left them uncertain.

  Except for Gabby, of course.

  “Where did you go shopping with your friends the other night?” she asked. “Like, all night—and most of Christmas Eve too!”

  The silence tightened a little. Through all the Christmas Day fuss yesterday, he’d managed to hold off awkward questions like this.

  “There was a big sale,” he said. There was no way around it now. “I had some bad luck with the car.”

  His mother reached out across the table, took his hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “But the Mercedes broke down at Flicker’s house.”

  Papi looked up from his breakfast.

  “It wouldn’t start,” Nate said with a shrug. “We were in a hurry to get to the stores, so Lily drove us. I left it there, and this morning it was gone.”

  “Gone?” Papi asked.

  Both his parents were staring at him now, the concern plain on their faces. But if they checked, the car’s nav records would show that he’d driven it to Flicker’s first. Whatever happened later would be the thief’s doing, of course. Nothing would connect Nate himself to the terrorist attack at the Desert Springs Mall.

  That’s what the papers were calling it. Straight-up terrorism.

  The mood in the room felt wrong, the surprise mixed with something unfamiliar. Disappointment. Those faded little flutterings made it hard to think.

  “Someone stole it, I guess.”

  Nate shut his mouth, but the words had slipped out without any preamble to soften them. A foolish, impatient mistake—the kind he never made. But he wasn’t so shaken that he couldn’t control a simple family breakfast.

  “How crazy is that?” Nate spread his hands, pulling the threads of their confusion toward himself, leaving them needing an explanation from him, or at least a story.

  He sat forward in his chair, drawing his family closer.

  “Flicker called just before I came down, wondering why I hadn’t said hello when I picked my car up. I was like, ‘But I haven’t picked it up yet.’ And she said, ‘But it’s gone.’ ” He looked at Mamá. “It probably just got towed, right?”

  “Why would someone tow it?” his mother asked. “Was it parked legally?”

  He shrugged. “Right in front of Flicker’s. Unless there was some special rule for Christmas Day.”

  “I’ll call the company right away,” Papi said. “They’ll find it.”

  “I’ll do it.” Nate raised his phone. “I’m really sorry I didn’t check on it earlier.”

  This was working. The sisters were bubbling at the possibility that their older brother might be in trouble for once. Papi’s face was serious, but also alight with the prospect of the fancy antitheft systems kicking in. He’d paid enough for them, after all.

  Their predictable reactions sent relief through Nate. For the two days since Davey had died, reality had seemed broken. He’d had the awful sense that his power was slipping, maybe even turning inside out. But this family breakfast was the perfect place to get his mojo back.

  His Zeroes needed him at full strength right now, not wallowing in doubt.

  “How did she notice?” Gabby said.

  He turned to his little sister. “Sorry?”

  “How did Flicker notice your car was missing?” Gabby cocked her head sweetly. “She’s blind.”

  Nate blinked, and revisions of the story flowed easily into his mind: Lily had noticed it missing and asked if Nate had been by. Or Flicker had heard it drive away—blind-people powers, as she liked to say.

  Or would too many details clutter the story?

  As his mind stumbled, Nate felt his grasp on the room slip a little. He started talking, keeping it vague. “I guess someone else must have noticed. Maybe her sister, or her mom. Anyway, they must have told—”

  His phone buzzed in his hand. It was from Crash.

  Nate stared at the screen. The letters were tangled, not quite settling on their meaning. But finally his brain worked it out.

  Swarm is here in Cambria.

  And it came again, that feeling of his power failing. The glistening lances of attention that crisscrossed the table all focused on him, but he sat there powerless and astonished, feeling the full, unbuffered weight of his family’s expectations.

  He could never live up to them.

  Just as he could never keep the Zeroes safe, now that Swarm was here.

  “We’re all going to die,” he whispered, just loud enough that his family heard every word.

  CHAPTER 46

  CRASH

  “THIS RIDE OKAY WITH YOU?”

  Kelsie nodded, her eyes screwed up against the winter noon sun, like she wasn’t used to being out in daylight.

  Chizara reached her mind beneath the silver shell of the Mazda convertible. Zapped open the locks, popped the trunk, quenched the theft-prevention system. “Then let’s get out of here, now.”

  Kelsie pushed the duffel, pillow, and blankets into the trunk. Chizara slid into the driver’s seat, squinting through the background Cambria buzz to scan the dash and the systems behind it. Yes, there was the roof mechanism, brutish and mechanical.

  Kelsie slammed the trunk closed.

  “Top down?” Chizara said, poised as Kelsie climbed in and scrabbled for the seat belt.

  “No way.” Kelsie clicked the belt home and hugged the ever-present snack bag, the wrappers crackling inside. “We’re in hiding, remember?”

  “Not in hiding—in motion.” Chizara gunned the engine. She caught Kelsie’s eye, and the girl reached out and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

  There was that feeling again—that this was everything. That it made perfect sense to leave the rest of her life behind.

  “This is the right thing to do, yeah?” Kelsie asked, her face solemn.

  “The only way to stay safe is to spread out, to keep moving.”

  “But we’ll be all alone out there.”

  Chizara shook her head. “Not alone—together. Even if it’s just two of us.”

  Kelsie eyes widened, and they kissed again, and then Chizara pulled the Mazda out into the street.

  “To Highway One.”

  She eyed the road signs, glanced in the rearview, and did a quick lane change. Yep, Mom, I just stole another car, she thought wearily. But not for a joyride, okay? We’re running from a killer. It’s about survival.

  Also, I need to get away from you while I figure this out—this girl and me.

  After the Mercedes, the little ragtop was blessedly straightforward, just the twinge of a chip here and there instead of the full pincushion of computerized everything. Chizara had brain space to focus on holding other stuff together: phone towers and substations they drove past, traffic controller cabinets, fancier cars around them in the traffic.

  And she had Kelsie beside her, familiar and yet transformed into something new. Just having someone here who understood the mess they were in was a comfort.

  “How far should we go?” Chizara asked.

  “Far,” Kelsie said. “Somewhere with happy crowds.”

  “Right.” Happy crowds outside a Faraday cage meant assault by phones. But it was worth it to keep Kelsie calm and cheerful. She’d been panicking when she’d returned from meeting Swarm, unable to gather herself until Chizara had said, Let’s just leave Cambria.

  It was that simple. That huge.

  “There was that big trance festival last month,” Kelsie said, rummaging among the snacks. “Something like that would be perfect.”

  “I’m not up on the rave scene.”

  Kelsie snorted, digging deeper. “Get me to a dance party, Zara, or I’m hitchhiking!”

  “Good luck with that.”

  They got on the highway and flew north, back along Swarm’s path, to places he’d already hunted and left behind. The traffic was in a post-Christmas lull, the suburbs fizzing with electronic conversations and commands. To their left the Pacific drew closer, azur
e, shimmering, and vast.

  What would it be like to live on a boat? All that glorious signal-free space around her. Of course, Kelsie would go crazy out there.

  Like Nate had said about Glitch and Coin—opposites attract.

  Fifty miles in, Kelsie curled up in what looked like an uncomfortable position, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  The fizzy suburbs were well behind them, and they were skimming the sea cliffs at speed. This car was a lot more fun than Dad’s pickup to drive—low, fast, and sticky on the curves. Chizara’s head was clear of electronic interference, of worry for Kelsie, and almost, almost, of her own fear.

  Kelsie had wakened her in a panic, all the sweet mischief of last night gone from her face. And she’d only grown more frantic while spilling the story of her meeting with Swarm.

  He’d been less than a mile from the Dish last night. Chizara’s Faraday cage had gone from a safety zone to a metal-lined death trap. She couldn’t believe they were both still alive.

  Chizara had sent warning texts to the other Zeroes; then she and Kelsie had fled up to Hill Street to find this car.

  Kelsie flailed in her seat, fighting off some enemy in a nightmare. The Mazda swerved a little, and a driver blasted his horn as he passed them.

  “Kelsie, wake up!” Chizara shouted, getting control again, her heart pounding. “You’re dreaming!”

  Kelsie opened her eyes, stared around wildly. “Where are we? Where is everyone?”

  Chizara put a hand on her knee. “Highway One, headed north. Just like when you fell asleep.”

  “God, it’s so empty! Zara, you’re not taking me camping, are you?”

  Even without a crowd around, Chizara felt a glimmer of Kelsie’s panic, her fear of being alone.

  “We’re looking for a happy crowd, remember? One really far away from Cambria.”