by C. B. Lee
Jess points at one of the buildings.
“Yeah. Archives,” Bells says. “Never been in there, although I walked past it a lot. Only one walkway goes by it. I used it a lot, even though it took longer, because it was one of the ways to go from my dorm to the classrooms without going on the uncovered walkways.”
“I can’t quite reach one of the controls,” Brendan says, frowning. He’s rewired a lot of stuff, and Abby looks over his shoulder.
“Here, you forgot to bypass this, and I think we should—ugh, I know there should be another panel but it’s usually on the inside…” Abby frowns, resting her hand on the control box. “If only I could…”
She closes her eyes and concentrates.
“Abby…” Jess looks up in alarm. “Remember what happened last time… please don’t…”
“I know my limits, Jess,” Abby says, with her face scrunched up.
“Oh, hey, I got it!” Brendan exclaims, connecting two wires. “Must have bypassed it.”
Hundreds of feet above them the lift whirs to life and descends slowly. They watch in silence, and the doors automatically open.
The training center is still. Bells remembers the lonely pathways and the peaceful mornings when he ran around the track in the gym, but this is a different kind of quiet altogether.
There is no one here.
He swipes his DED at the scanner, and it opens to let “Barry” in.
“The last time I used that account,” Bells says, “The League had MonRobots after me in minutes. We need to be quick.”
“They must have had MonRobots in Andover since they knew you were from there,” Abby muses. “We’re far from Aerial City. It’ll take time for them to mobilize.”
“Let’s not waste any time, then,” Jess says.
“This is good, right?” Brendan asks, eyes wide as the follow Jess down the path. “I mean, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to fight anyone, since… I can’t…”
Abby hustles them along with a wary look. “Let’s just get the thing and get out of here.”
Jess closes her eyes and points in the direction they came. “That’s where the most danger to us is… so… we’re okay going to get the Registry for now.”
They walk among the creaking platforms and walkways. Bells tries to go as fast as he can, not looking at the ground below. He pauses. “The signs, they’re all different. The Archives used to be there, and the dorms over there, but everything has changed.”
“I’m getting the Archives in that direction,” Jess says, jerking her head to the right.
“Here we are,” Bells says. “Archives.” Bells pulls open the door. It’s dark inside and filled with files and files, but Jess brightens.
“I’ve got this,” she says, walking all the way to the end of the wall and pulling out a heavy box.
Bells takes the other side, and they shuffle to the door. “We won’t be able to hike back out with this,” he says, trying to think of another solution.
Brendan opens the box and grabs a stack of files. “We could split these up and put them in our packs?”
“There’s too much paper,” Bells says. “The point is, we don’t want the Collective or Orion to have this information, right? We don’t need this—if we take it back with us, then they can steal it. It shouldn’t exist in the first place.”
Jess nods. “It’s the only way they keep track of all the meta-humans in the Collective.”
Bells looks at the pile of paperwork and at the names on the tabs of the file folders. “Let’s burn it.”
Brendan grins. “I did bring matches!”
Pages and pages crumble and turn to ash. Bells watches as the names and powers and ratings and every little detail about every meta-human, hero and villain and otherwise, disappear in the flames. His file is in here too. He glimpsed it when they were building the file— VILLAIN stamped in bright red across the top.
Bells has been holding on to the dream of being one of the League’s heroes for so long. He was so hurt when they branded him a villain that he forgot what it felt like, how hopeful he was, when he first submitted his information. He doesn’t need this piece of paper or some organization to tell him who he is and who he’s meant to be.
Smoke tendrils wind their way up the trees, and Bells smiles.
At the hoverstation, Bells notices something odd about the crowd. “Do you think there are more assistant bots than usual?”
Abby looks around. “Those aren’t any brand I recognize… they look like a modified version of the new MonRobots, actually. What are they doing out on their own?”
The people walking through the central plaza of Aerial City Central station are almost outnumbered by the robots.
“I don’t know; I don’t like it,” Bells says.
“CHAMELEON, SURRENDER NOW.”
Bells can see their hovertrain pull into the platform.
“Run!”
He doesn’t need to say it twice; they’re already dashing for the train, dropping their datachips at the turnstile, pushing past other passengers and onto the train. Through the windows they can see the robots making their way toward them, drawing closer and closer.
“Come on, go, go, go,” Bells mutters.
The train is taking its sweet time getting started, but finally it whirs to life and heads out of the city.
The robots clamor on the platform, beeping at them.
“They found us because you scanned your Barry ID at the training center, right? But… we should be good now?” Emma asks.
“Saw us get on the train,” Bells says, folding his arms. “Let’s hope their A.I. isn’t advanced enough to follow us south.”
Abby looks out the window. “Unfortunately, they seem to be following us. And they’re fast.”
A flurry of robots flies past the window, and they watch as the robots blast at the next bridge for the hovertrack.
“The bridge, the bridge!” Emma gapes at the track collapsing into the canyon, at the metal and magnets falling uselessly hundreds of feet below.
“We have to get off the train,” Jess urges. “There’s an emergency exit that way; we can make it—”
“But what about the other people on the train?” Bells asks. This is a high-traffic train, connecting major cities of the Collective. There are people here, visiting their families, on vacation, with their loved ones—
Jess pales. “I thought this was a supply train!”
Abby grits her teeth. “They sell passenger seats on supply trains if there’s space. This—”
Brendan grits his teeth. “There were eighty-nine passengers aboard the last I checked, not including us. Or the crew.”
“Okay, okay,” Jess says, chest heaving. “We get to the speaker system and tell them to evacuate the train. There are enough emergency exits throughout the train—”
“Can you stop the train?” Bells asks. Brendan is already typing away at his makeshift control pad; Bells doesn’t doubt his ability for a second.
Brendan grabs at the projections and injects a complicated equation. “Too much momentum. I can slow us down, but—”
“There’s not enough time,” Emma says. “Hack into the speaker system; we’ll tell everyone to get off—”
“And go where?” Bells gestures at the moving landscape around them. “Even if everyone flings themselves out the exits, someone’s going to get hurt… I can’t… we can’t—”
The train is still moving, and the broken bridge ahead of them is getting closer and closer. He flips the lever for the emergency exit, and the door springs open. Screeching winds tear at him, and the canyon drops far below the bridge ahead of him.
He turns around, rushing for the door.
“Bells! Where are you going?” Emma whirls around, frantic. “We have a plan, what—”
“That won’t work.
This will,” Bells gasps. “Gotta… gotta get to front of the train,” he says, and the door shuts behind him.
Ignoring the shouts of his friends, Bells races down the train. He runs past the passengers who have no idea what’s about to happen. Do these people know that the League was willing to sacrifice them to preserve its secret? Do they know the horrible things their government has done in the name of order?
It only takes a moment to reach the storage car at the opposite end of the train, but Bells feels as if he’s aged a hundred years.
He scans all the vehicles. Car, car, minivan, car. There, in the middle. He shoves aside cartons to clear a path. He knocks aside a crate of tomatoes and then one of fresh apples, and doesn’t even feel guilty when the fruit spills to the floor.
“Brendan!” Bells shouts into his DED. The secure line on their new IDs crackles.
“What are you doing?” Jess shouts at him through the line.
“Brendan, I need you to start this motorcycle!” His heart pounds, as he unfurls the canvas cover. It’s a different model than Bells’ but the basics will be the same. He can drive this.
“Got it; swipe your DED on the touchpad!”
Bells jerks his wrist at the panel, and the motorcycle hums to life. Lights flick on along the lines of the bike, and Bells swings his legs over the side.
Go. Go. Go.
He zips through the train, zooming through each compartment door, sending metal bits flying.
He races past his friends and he can hear his name being shouted, echoing as he leaves them behind.
Bells leans forward, driving on the track now, only a narrow bit of metal between him and certain death. Colors flash by, the reds and golds of the canyon, the dark-green forest, and the faint trickle of green-blue river far below.
Bells ignores the panic in his gut and drives forward to the ragged end of the track. A few pebbles bounce and scatter into the canyon. He stops the motorcycle, and it teeters precariously. He jumps off the bike just before it tips over the edge and then he’s alone, standing on the track with the train rushing toward him.
Bells’ throat seizes up and he feels dizzy but he stands steady. He’s not going to fall. He’s not going to fail.
He’s here: his body, his wits, his determination.
He thinks of the cold, hard metal of the track he’s standing on, thinks of where it needs to go, and thinks steel. He pulls at the shift; his power burns tall and bright inside him, and he gives it his all. He is cold, hard metal, growing, growing, growing. He’s everything these tracks were made for, connection and strength. He’s his friends, his family; he’s the little boy who wanted to be a hero. He’s every single villain that was forced into a role. He’s the souls of the people still on the train who are going to keep going.
Bells can feel his body stretch and transform. He’s more than himself; he’s a living metal-person, in the shape of the track, connecting to the other side. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t have eyes. Bells doesn’t know what his body looks like, but he feels detached, as if he’s floating above it.
The train hovers over him, and Bells can feel the weight of the air cushion between him and the train. And it slows down, goes past him safely to the other side, and then comes to a halt.
Bells slowly lets go of the shift, tries to be aware which side he’s shrinking toward, and slowly comes back to himself, lying on the other edge of the once-again-ruined track. His clothes are in tatters; he doesn’t have energy left to change them. He stumbles forward, heading for the train. His friends pile out of the emergency exit.
Bells falls back into the dirt, barely keeping his eyes open, and slumps forward into—Emma.
“Bells, Bells! Are you okay? What the hell was that?!” She wraps him in a tight, fierce hug.
It’s chaos when they return to the Guild; everyone talks at once, recounting what happened. Bells serves himself another helping of rice and beans. He slumps against his chair, and Emma pats him on the back. He can barely follow the arguments: finding the Resistance or starting one from scratch; who is going to do what, if they should do anything; and possible ways to change the League from the inside.
Brendan is asleep, having found the nearest couch. Abby and Jess are talking quietly in a corner; Bells overhears something about Abby’s powers and steps back, not wanting to interrupt an intimate moment.
“You look like you’re ready for, like, three day’s sleep,” Emma says.
Bells yawns. “Probably.” He’s barely holding it together. “Wanna take a walk?”
“Sure,” Emma says.
They follow the dark tunnels until they reach the chute with the viewing platform and slowly climb up. The night sky gleams above them; stars wink at them gracefully. Bells sits next to Emma, looking over the edge. He’s aware that they’re pretty high and that the last time he was here he couldn’t leave the safety of the wall.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
He’s still afraid of falling, but he trusts himself more. Trusts Emma. Trusts that where he’s sitting is solid. Safe.
They watch the stars, neither one saying anything, and Bells thinks about how far away those galaxies are and how long it took for their light to get here.
“What you did. On the train,” Emma says.
Bells braces himself for the lecture: putting himself in danger, trying out a new version of his powers.
Emma looks at the stars. “When you raced off on that motorcycle, I didn’t know what you were doing. I didn’t know if you were going to come back and I was so scared, Bells. I thought I would never get to tell you, and you didn’t know—”
Bells puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Em.”
“I love you,” Emma says softly.
“Love you too, Em,” Bells says automatically, opening his arms for a hug.
Emma shoulders out of it. “No, I mean, I love you. Romantically. Like. Relationship kind of way.”
The wind rustles through the trees, and Emma looks up at him.
“What are you saying?” Bells asks, not daring to hope.
“I mean,” Emma says, kicking at nothing in particular. “About what you said, being on the spectrum. I’m still figuring it out, and I’m still confused on some things, you know, like sometimes it feels right, but not, right right, you know? Like attraction? Relationships?” She makes a flyaway gesture.
“Okay…” Bells doesn’t know where this is going.
“There’s all sorts of in-between, but I do know there’s one thing I’m not confused about.”
“And what’s that?’
“It’s how I feel about this one person,” she says and smiles as if the words come easily. “I’ve always known, even if I didn’t have a word for it. And I just—I didn’t know how to deal with it, you know? I didn’t want to ruin things.”
“Ruin things?” Bells’ heart skips a beat.
“He is my best friend,” Emma says pointedly. “It was easy for me to ignore what I was feeling, to think about what was easy, what was in front of me…”
“I—” Bells doesn’t know what to say.
Emma leans forward, a question in her eyes, and Bells thinks about last summer, when he thought this could happen, how easy it would be, and he answers her with a kiss.
Emma kisses like a dream. Bells barely knows where he is, the way her hands are on the sides of his face, the softness of her mouth, the way she sighs, and he can feel her smile against his lips.
Keep me here. This is a dream, part of him thinks, as Emma’s curls fall into his face.
He can’t control his emotions, doesn’t know which way the shift is taking him, and he feels his features flash. Emma keeps holding him throughout, and he gasps, because he doesn’t know what he is anymore. Is he the air, wrapping around Emma’s cheeks, kissing at her skin? Is he the soft cotton of her T-shirt, running down
her back?
“Bells?” Emma asks softly. “Is this too fast for you?”
“Yes,” Bells says. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Emma says, and she scrambles off his lap, settling to sit next to him. He throws an arm over her shoulder, and she rests her head on his chest.
Bells kisses her forehead. “We’ll have lots of time.”
“We will, won’t we?” Emma muses.
Home is calling them, and Bells is tired of the indecision in the Villain’s Guild. Although Genevieve and Chloe seem to be disagreeing on how to go about things, it looks as if they’re going to stand up to the League.
“You ready to go home, son?” Nick asks.
He is and he isn’t. He’s ready to move forward on the threshold of this new thing with Emma. She’s got her own ideas, about her and Bells, about what the Resistance really needs to be doing right now.
“It doesn’t exist,” Bells said, laughing.
“Who says it doesn’t? Who’s to say there aren’t other people looking for hope, looking the way we were looking when we found those people watching Star Wars?” Emma asks.
Jess and Abby stay. Victor and Li Hua are at the forefront of challenging the League from the inside and are working out a way to reach as many heroes as possible and tell them the truth. Genevieve is working on a way to counter the serum, and there’s plenty of reorganizing to do at the Guild.
The Broussards take Bells and Emma home. Summer beckons on the horizon. Bells works at the restaurant and at the farm, and Emma and her moms move into Abby’s secret house in the canyons. They haven’t figured out what that Class Five threat was about, but hiding seems like a sound idea.
* * *
One blustery day Bells and Emma are driving out into the canyons, talking about anything and everything. “We should put up videos and articles about the truth again,” Emma says. “Even if they get taken down after a few minutes.”
Bells agrees. “I’m sure there’s a better way to go about it, but we need better encryption. That movie-watching club had the right idea. Maybe if we ask them to spread this information to their other clubs?”
