Cass saw Sarah the medic striding quickly toward them, and she froze. “Come,” Sarah said to Cass. “You still think you can help? I’m ready for the amputation.”
Cass felt a swirl of brutal panic at that word—amputation—but forced it down. Farryn needed her help. If he died, and she had been too cowardly to help the medic, would she ever be able to forgive herself?
“Cass,” began Nick, “I don’t think—”
“No,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s fine. What can I do to help?”
“Amputation?” said Kevin. “Who’s getting an amputation?”
Sarah began walking away, with her purposeful stride, and Cass followed, flashing Kevin a quick nervous smile, leaving it to Nick to explain.
“You’ll be up at his head,” Sarah explained. “No need to watch me working. I don’t need you passing out on me.”
“I’ll be fine,” Cass said, trying to sound confident and tough, although she did feel dizzy, and her fingers were tingling. She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears with shaky hands.
“Regardless,” said Sarah. “My anesthesia is crude. I’d like you to monitor his vitals for me. Watch his breathing, keep a finger on his carotid. It’ll let me focus on getting the amputation done as quickly as possible. If he stops breathing or his heartbeat becomes erratic, let me know and I’ll do what I can.” Sarah paused outside her tent, and put her hand on Cass’s shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “Can you do this? Help me try to keep your boyfriend alive?”
Cass nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing herself to sound confident. “And he’s not my boyfriend, I mean, not really, I don’t think. . . .”
Sarah smiled. “Let’s save his life first, and then you can figure that out,” she said. She stepped inside the tent. Cass took a deep breath, then followed.
The medic’s tent was the largest of all the rebels’—it was pre-Rev gear, not the most high-tech that Cass had seen, but still, it was an auto-construct, auto-breakdown, made of some sort of stiff, treated canvas. The floor was hard, and level, and the ceiling was seven feet high, so Sarah and Cass were able to walk in and stand as if they were in a real room. Lightsticks were hung on each of the four walls and on the ceiling, making the room almost painfully bright.
As if reading her thoughts, Sarah said, “Don’t usually waste all these lightsticks. But I need to see when I’m working.”
Back near the far wall, on a cot, lay Farryn. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing quickly, almost panting. His hands were folded over his belly. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was matted down with sweat. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the door. “Cass,” he said weakly.
Cass froze in surprise—she had assumed that Farryn would already be under the anesthesia—but she quickly caught herself and rushed over to the cot. She took his hand, which was slick with sweat, and squeezed it. He looked at her, his eyes red and unfocused.
“Cass?” he said again.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m here.”
“My father . . .” Farryn shook his head, as if he was disagreeing with something. “I want . . . and Mom . . .”
“He’s weak from the fever and also disoriented from the pre-anesthetic sedative,” said Sarah.
“Shh,” Cass said. “You’re going to be fine.” She squatted down on the floor next to Farryn’s head, and pushed a slick strand of hair away from his eyes. He has green eyes, she thought. He could be dead soon, this green-eyed boy I hardly know but who seems so important to me. She fought back the urge to cry. She dropped her hand away from his face and dug her nails into her palm, angry with herself. Crying wouldn’t help Farryn right now.
Sarah brought over a small table and a black bag. She began pulling tools and supplies from the bag and placing them on the table. “Don’t have any of the right tools for this,” she muttered to herself. “Sometimes I think it would be worth it to live in a bot City just to see the inside of a hospital again.” She sighed, and picked up an injector. “Still, you’ve gotta make do. Improvise.”
Sarah stepped forward and pressed the injector against Farryn’s neck. Cass heard a click and a quiet hiss, and Farryn tensed, arching his back, looking at Cass with panic in his eyes that broke her heart, and then he lay back down, shut his eyes, and was still.
Cass felt an illogical rush of fear—was he dead? Had the medic just killed him?—and then saw that his chest was rising and falling. He was breathing.
Cass reached forward and found the pulse in Farryn’s neck.
“The dose should be good for about an hour, but if all goes well I won’t need nearly that long to amputate and cauterize.”
Cass nodded. She focused on Farryn’s heartbeat, slow and steady under her fingers. “Okay, then let’s get this job done,” Cass said.
Cass made it through the next twenty minutes by focusing on Farryn’s heartbeat. She tried, without really succeeding, to ignore the sounds Sarah was making—the whir of a lase saw, the crackling of the cauterizer—and the way Farryn’s body was jostled. She thought about all the things the bots had taken away. Her Freepost. Her parents. Her memories. And now, Farryn’s leg. The memories could come back. But the rest . . .
“Done,” said Sarah finally, with a sigh. She stepped forward and felt Farryn’s pulse, gently pushing Cass’s hand away. “Thank you,” she said to Cass. “Well done. You handled that better than most.”
Cass steeled herself, then looked down at Farryn’s legs. The right leg, ending just below the knee, was wrapped in gauze. There was blood on the cot and on the floor, but not as much as Cass was expecting.
“So you’re done?” Cass said. “He’s going to be okay?”
“I’m done,” said Sarah. “But now we have to wait and see. I don’t have many antibiotics, or painkillers.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “Let’s hope he survives the next few days.”
CHAPTER 3
NICK DIDN’T KNOW WHERE TO GO FIRST. HE WANTED TO STAY WITH Kevin, to find out what had happened to him. He wanted to go with Cass, to see if he could help her and the medic with Farryn’s operation. And he wanted to visit Erica, who, unless he could figure out some way to stop it, was going to be executed the next morning.
“Lexi, will you—” Nick began, and Lexi, reading his mind, cut him off.
“I’ll go check on Cass,” she said, nodding. She touched Kevin’s arm. “It’s really good to see you,” she said, and then hurried away.
Nick put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “It is,” he said. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I screwed up. I lost you.” Nick had to pause, to clear his throat and push back the tears that had suddenly threatened to form. “I didn’t know if I was going to find you again.”
Kevin began to smile, but then he glanced over at Clay, who had just finished her speech and was making her way around the camp greeting the rebels. He stepped back from Nick.
“Not in front of her,” Kevin said. “She can’t know the truth.”
“Who is she?” Nick asked again. It was obvious that Kevin didn’t just dislike her—he was afraid of her. “Sounds like she’s going to take the fight to the bots. . . . That’s good.”
“I don’t know if anything about her is good,” Kevin said. “She’s Captain Clay, or General Clay, here, I guess. She was Captain on the Island.” Kevin leaned toward Nick, and said in a whisper so low that Nick could barely hear, “She’s a killer.” He hesitated before continuing. “I met Miles Winston on the Island.”
He paused again, and Nick was surprised to see that Kevin’s eyes were welling with tears. Kevin looked away, clenching his fists, struggling with something. He turned back to Nick and blurted, “She killed him, Nick! He’s our grandfather. Our grandfather! He’s dead because of her.”
Nick’s head exploded with a million questions. Nothing Kevin had just said made sense. He stepped back. “Miles Winston? You found him? And what do you mean he’s our grandfather? And . . . this Clay woman killed him? Where were you? What is thi
s Island you both keep mentioning? What happened?”
Kevin looked over Nick’s shoulder, his eyes widening for a moment, and then he gave a quick negative shake of his head. “Grennel,” he said, shifting away from Nick. “Remember, we’re not family.”
Nick turned and saw Grennel heading toward them. The man was huge, easily the biggest man Nick had ever seen. This man had killed Miles Winston? And Miles Winston was . . . their grandfather? Nick almost laughed out loud, not because he felt at all amused, but because he was so utterly confused.
Grennel brushed past Nick, giving him a small nod. Nick nodded back, trying to read something from the big man’s face. But Grennel seemed calm, almost blank. He certainly didn’t seem angry, or violent. Despite his size, he didn’t look like a murderer. But then again, neither did the bots.
“Come,” Grennel said to Kevin, in a tone that was almost apologetic, but still a command. “The General wants you introduced to the troop leader for assignment.”
Nick almost stepped forward—this man had no right to be ordering his brother around, no matter how big he was—but he held back. It wasn’t because of Grennel’s size, although it was true that Nick would have no chance in a fight with Grennel. It was the quick glance that Kevin gave him that kept his mouth shut. Kevin was saying, This is important. Stay quiet.
As Nick watched Grennel lead Kevin away, Nick decided that something had changed in his brother in just the short time they had been separated. He seemed a little sadder, a little . . . Nick struggled to pin it down—not more mature, exactly, just older. What the hell had happened to his little brother on this “Island”? Nick shook his head, then decided to go find Lexi to see how Farryn was doing.
He made his way across the camp to the medic’s tent. Lexi was sitting on the ground outside. “News?” he said.
“Nothing yet,” she said.
He glanced at the tent entrance, but hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t just barge in during an operation.
“Come on,” Lexi said. She patted the ground next to her. “Sit.”
So he sat down, tucking his arms over his knees, and waited. Lexi took his hand, and Nick felt himself relax, just a bit. His brother was alive. His sister was getting her memory back. Farryn was in good hands. This new leader—General Clay—something bad had happened between her and Kevin, but at least she would be going after the bots. That would give him the chance to get to his parents.
He was growing impatient. He stood and began pacing. He couldn’t stand this waiting, being useless.
The tent flap opened and Cass came out, looking pale and tired. Lexi jumped to her feet. Cass took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stretched her neck. Nick kept himself from saying anything, waiting for her to speak.
“He made it through the surgery, at least,” she said.
“That’s good,” said Lexi. “That’s good, right?”
Cass nodded, without smiling. “The medic says he’s not out of danger, though, with the fever and the chance of shock and infection. If he can get through the next few days . . .” Cass paused, hesitated, her cheeks reddening, and then said to Nick, “Was Farryn my . . . I mean, were he and I . . . my memory is still kinda spotty, but it feels like he was . . .”
“No,” said Nick, and at the same time, Lexi said, “Yes.”
Then Cass did manage a weak smile. “Which one is it?”
“Boys are idiots,” said Lexi. “Listen to me.”
“That’s true,” said Cass, her smile broadening a little. “They are.”
“Hey, come on now. . . .” said Nick.
Cass sighed, and her smile dropped away. “I’m going to stay with him for a while,” she said. She turned toward the tent.
“I’m sure the medic has it under control,” said Nick. “Why don’t you come rest, or something?”
“No,” said Cass. “I want to stay.” She disappeared into the tent.
Nick stood there for a moment, feeling useless.
“She’ll be all right,” Lexi said. “She’s tough.”
“No doubt about that,” Nick agreed. He shrugged. All right, he thought. On to crisis number three. “Lexi, I’ve got to . . .” He hesitated for a moment, just long enough to think, Damn, she’s going to know I’m lying, then continued, “I have to take care of a few errands for Ro.”
Lexi crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Nick. “Like I said, boys are idiots,” she said. “What are you really up to?”
“I’m going to check on Erica,” he said, realizing he couldn’t avoid the truth.
Lexi’s face darkened. “She doesn’t need checking on,” she said. “I’m sure her guards have everything under control.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I meant . . .”
“I know what you meant,” Lexi said. “I’m sure they’re treating her fine.”
“They’re going to kill her,” Nick said.
Lexi winced, and looked away. “I’m not saying I like that,” she said. “But she betrayed us.”
“She was trying to protect her family!” Nick said, his voice rising. “I can understand that.”
“Oh, really? That’s it?” Lexi said, looking back at Nick. “Or is it her pretty eyes?”
“Who’s the idiot now?” Nick said. He instantly regretted it, but it was out there.
Lexi opened her mouth to reply, but shut it without saying anything, and spun and walked away.
“Rust,” muttered Nick. He watched her go, trying to think of something to say that would make her stop and come back. I’m sorry was probably a good start, he knew, but he couldn’t make himself say it. He shook his head. “You are an idiot,” he said to himself.
CHAPTER 4
KEVIN STOOD SILENTLY AS GRENNEL BRIEFED RO ON KEVIN’S SKILLS. He’d been forced to skip dinner and it looked as if he’d be expected to work through the night. It was clear that his training was being put to work as they readied the camp for battle. He’d be assisting the tech officer, a short, thin man named Stebbins, with the warning that if Kevin got lazy he would be put on grunt work for the camp.
As the moon crossed the sky, Kevin spent an hour with Stebbins fixing two broken ear comms, some frayed portable gridlines, and a power supply for a burst rifle that wouldn’t recharge. He tried to keep up a pace that was quick enough to keep him away from any manual labor—he didn’t want to dig latrines—but not so slow that he looked incompetent.
Kevin soon realized he didn’t need to worry. Stebbins was busy taking apart two vidscreens and was ignoring Kevin completely. He rubbed his eyes, fighting sleep.
Kevin was studying the rifle’s power supply—he had already repaired it, but had a tenuous idea for boosting its power—when Clay and Grennel returned from a camp meeting.
Stebbins jumped to his feet. “General,” he said, offering an awkward salute.
Clay grimaced. “We don’t salute, if that’s what that was,” she said.
“Yes, uh, sorry,” said Stebbins.
Clay glanced over at Kevin, who quickly looked down at the rifle power supply, pretending to be tinkering with it. He saw, in his peripheral vision, that she continued to stare at him for a few moments before turning back to Stebbins.
“Grennel,” she said. “The Wall unit.”
Grennel handed the Wall unit to Stebbins, and Kevin’s heart began pounding harder. He listened carefully, and watched as closely as he could without staring.
“As we discussed,” she said, “I need this adapted to cloak an individual as quickly as possible.”
Stebbins nodded, already absorbed in examining the unit.
“Stebbins,” Clay said.
He pulled his attention away from the unit and looked at her.
“End of the day,” she said. “You have until the end of the day to show me something good.” She took a step closer to him. “I will not be happy if you fail. And if I’m unhappy, you will be extremely unhappy. Understood?”
Stebbins, suddenly pale, nodded.
Of cou
rse, Kevin thought. Clay was trying to cloak a person. It was exactly the kind of use that Clay would want for his grandfather’s technology—the ultimate camouflage gear. Perfect for attacking a City.
Stebbins spent the rest of the night and into the next morning examining the Wall unit and weaving conduction wire into a helmet and hunting vest. Kevin spent a few hours sleeping with his head on the table, and the rest of the time spying on him while pretending to be fixing the tech he had already repaired.
From what Kevin could see, it looked like Stebbins was trying to create a limited circuit for the cloaking field. But—rust—what would the cloaking field do to a person? Wouldn’t it kill them? The Wall at the Island wasn’t damaged by the cloaking energy, but a wall wasn’t alive. The metal pylons in the Wall probably had served to ground the energy, as well as provide structural support. But how could Stebbins create body armor so the wearer didn’t get electrocuted? And also, how would Stebbins make sure the power didn’t overload? The control unit was designed for a huge wall, stretching across a mile of perimeter—that much juice would be massive overkill for a single six-foot person.
But Kevin kept his thoughts to himself. It wasn’t as if Stebbins was asking for his help; if Kevin said anything, he’d just end up digging ditches, or worse.
As the sunlight began to fade, Clay and Grennel came, as promised. Clay brushed past Kevin without even looking at him. Grennel nodded as he strode past, but Kevin didn’t acknowledge him.
Stebbins jumped to his feet. Clay was a full head taller than him and looked down at him with her hands on her hips. “Status report,” she said. “Make me happy.”
Stebbins cleared his throat. “Just finished a first prototype,” he said. “I’ll need a more elegant way to patch into the control. It’s kind of clunky right now, and I still have to figure out how to disperse the field across multiple units without being tethered to the control unit. . . . I’m not sure if that’s even possible, really. . . .”
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