I told myself it was because he held Resistance secrets the Association couldn’t have. With a determination I hadn’t felt in a long time, I descended to the roof of Rise Twelve.
I had exactly two seconds to breathe and only one foot on the ground when a group of people leapt up from behind a flower bed.
“Who are you?”
“What do you want?”
“Kick the board over here.”
I flipped my hood down. “Relax. I’m Jag Barque,” I said in my most authoritative voice.
They all stopped talking. One guy actually relaxed against a bench.
A girl a few years older than me recovered first. “That’s some voice you’ve got there.” She spoke in a cool tone that gave nothing away.
I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m Jag Barque.”
“The Jag Barque?” she asked. “Prove it.”
She wanted me to prove it? “Jump up on the wall there,” I said, and every person within hearing distance hopped onto the shallow wall that edged the roof. “Walk toward me.”
Their mechanical movements made me wince. “Okay, okay. Get down.”
They thumped to the safety of the roof. Slowly they came to their senses, watching me with curiosity burning in their eyes.
“I’m Jag Barque,” I repeated. “Leader of the Resistance. Do you need additional proof?”
“No,” the girl said, exchanging a nervous glance with the man next to her. She stepped forward. “I’m River.”
“What’s the status here?” I asked. “Who’s in charge of Twelve?”
“My father, Mason Isaacs, with Starr Messenger as his second.”
I frowned. “Thane said Starr would be in charge if something happened to him.”
“She’s still a student,” River said. “Director Hightower appointed my father when Assistant Director Myers went missing. Starr is still second.”
I knew the Isaacs family. Blaze had smuggled them out of Northepointe several months before he’d died. “Is your dad around?”
“He’s at Rise One with the other building Directors. Word is there’s a threat to Associational security.” River gave me the up-down. A slow smile stretched across her face. “I guess they were right.”
“I have friends out there. What’s the word on your safe houses?”
Before she could answer, an explosion tilted the sky. I fell to my knees, my arms automatically covering my head.
As I regained my feet, River moved to the edge of the roof and faced north. “That was our last hideout,” she said. “I hope your friends weren’t heading to Block Twenty-Four.”
Somehow I thought that’s exactly where they’d be going.
“Send a rescue team,” I said, joining her at the wall. I gripped the edge until my finger bones hurt.
I couldn’t lose Vi. Not in an explosion I hadn’t seen coming. Not in the dead of night while I lingered on a rooftop and couldn’t help.
“Who should we be looking for out there?” River asked. I got the impression it wasn’t the first time. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the plume of smoke spreading into the sky.
“Jag, who—”
“Violet Schoenfeld,” I said. “Or Zenn Bower. Or Gunner Jameson.”
“If they were in that building—”
“Go,” I said. “Just go.”
Zenn
8.
Block Twenty-Four had been compromised. The four of us stood on the fringes, staring at the smoke still wafting from the hideout.
One look at Gunner, and I knew not everyone had made it out. “What can you feel?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t as bad as the smell of ash and plastic and wet, hot metal. I wondered if Trek had been inside. Or Starr. I swallowed hard.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Too much.”
“We’ll wait here,” Saffediene declared. “We’re not that far from Rise Twelve, and the danger seems to have dissipated for now.”
My arms felt dissipated from my body. My legs too. My head. All of it—the EOs swarming in the streets, the spyware in the silver paint, the alarm, the darkness, the destruction of the Insider hideout—was just too much.
“We can’t wait here,” Vi said, glancing around. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
I snapped back to attention. “What doesn’t feel right?”
She and Gunn turned. Vi cried out in surprise; Gunn shouted. I spun around and immediately raised both hands in a placating gesture.
A handful of people stood in front of us, their clothes nonstandard, their eyes watchful. One held a taser, obviously an older model he’d scrounged from somewhere—or taken off a dead body. The other four wielded “weapons” of rubbish bin lids or pieces of the blown-up building, as if we were the ones responsible for the detonation of their hideout.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, my voice power employing without a second thought.
“Calm down,” Gunn said, his voice on high too. “We’re friends here.”
The people exchanged glances. “Who are you?” a man asked.
“I’m Zenn Bower,” I said. “And this is Saffediene, and . . .” Could I give Vi’s name?
“Violet,” Vi said, making the choice for me. “I’m Violet Schoenfeld.”
Weapons were lowered and glances exchanged. “It’s them.” The one with the taser stowed it in his jacket pocket.
“Them?” I asked.
“How do you know who we are?” Saffediene asked, showing her strength by speaking without so much as a waver in her voice.
“Jag sent us,” the man said. “I’m Newton.” He named the others, but I got hung up on River Isaacs.
“River,” I said. “I know you. How do I know you?” I studied her tangle of brown hair. Her nose sat too small in the middle of her face. Her eyes, round and alive, reminded me of someone. She had a few years on me, but I had to look down on her. She carried strength in her body, and I knew she was no lightweight.
She gripped my hand in a crazy-firm handshake. “Zenn Bower. You saved my family a couple years back.”
All eyes focused on me, but none felt heavier than Vi’s.
“I—I—” I didn’t know what to say. I remembered now. Mason Isaacs. His wife had been taken and coerced. He needed passage to Freedom, and Blaze and I had provided the service. River looked like she’d aged ten years instead of three.
“How’s your dad?” I finally asked.
“Director of Rise Twelve,” River answered. She cast her eyes around the wreckage behind us. “Come on, we’re not safe here.”
She and her band of rebels faded into the shadowy alley. Saffediene moved with them, easily hiding herself among the darkness. The girl had mad sneaking skills.
Gunn and Vi stood deathly still, gaping at me.
“What?” I asked, stuffing my hands in my pockets in an attempt at nonchalance.
“Interesting,” Vi said. She made to follow the others without removing her laser gaze from my face. “Very interesting.”
“What does that mean?” I asked Gunn, who’d hopefully picked up on Vi’s feelings.
“I think,” he said, “it means she’s sad she doesn’t know everything about you.”
“What the—”
“I lived with you, and you’re still a complete mystery to me. Don’t worry, Zenn, it’s part of your charm.” Gunn flashed one of his rare smiles before leaving me alone with my despicable self.
* * *
Upon arriving at Rise Twelve, Jag immediately put everyone to work. Leave it to him to show up unannounced and take over. He was a natural-born leader. Some say it’s his charisma. And by “some,” I mean “girls.”
I say it’s because of his crazy-powerful voice talent.
No matter what it is, everyone obeyed him. Not that he really commanded. But he spoke with authority, and as much as I hated to admit it, his ideas usually had merit.
“Got that, Zenn?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” I tried to focus on the convo, but we’d been over it before: use my
voice if I had to, stay close to Vi, blah blah blah.
Jag didn’t buy it for a second. “You weren’t even listening.”
I looked at the midnight horizon over his shoulder. “Was too.”
“Gunn.” Jag glanced at him.
“He wasn’t listening.” The traitor ratted me out.
“How do you know?” I asked. I’d been burying my emotions for years. I didn’t want them exposed for anyone to feel.
“You don’t argue when you’re right,” he said.
“Whatever,” I mumbled. At least he couldn’t smell my guilt.
A few minutes later Jag sent Pace and Saffediene back across the ocean sporting backpacks filled with supplies, which only left me, Gunn, and Vi to bust Thane out of Rise One.
“We’ll attract less attention with a smaller group,” Jag said. “River doesn’t have more fake IDs anyway.”
“Who’s going to tether the boards?” I asked.
“Yeah, that,” Jag said, and I knew I wouldn’t like whatever came next. “Pace took your board. He left his for you—with the tethered boards.”
I glared at the ocean, as if it was to blame for this.
“Your board was the only one not voice activated,” Jag continued. “I had no other choice.”
Right. Or it was just another clever way for Jag to stick it to me.
* * *
Ten a.m. found me changing into standard-issue clothes and clipping a fake ID to my collar. I descended to the lobby, where the rest of the rescue team waited.
“Nice,” Jag said, examining us in Freedom’s finest. “We look official enough.”
We took to the streets with River’s team of three at ten thirty a.m. The few people out walked in straight lines, black suits glinting in the weak March sunlight. I was used to the silence that permeated the streets of Freedom. If people spoke, they used their cache.
Insider Tip #3: Follow the rules of the city you’re in. If you don’t know the rules, keep your mouth shut.
I glared at Jag, hoping he wouldn’t speak out loud. He must’ve gotten the message, because he kept quiet the whole way to Rise One. We walked right up to it and past a huddle of Enforcement Officers. River held the door open, and we filed toward the ascenders in the back of the lobby.
I couldn’t believe how easy everything was going. Adrenaline surged through me, making my nerves jump.
I swallowed hard when we arrived on the seventh floor. The air felt charged, yet eerily abandoned, as if the whole operation had been moved somewhere else since we’d been gone. Lab seven, though the largest, certainly wasn’t the only place in Freedom where heinous acts went down. Maybe we were in the wrong room.
But the two doctors standing guard at the end of the hall suggested differently. They’d already drawn their weapons and aimed them in our direction.
Gunn and Jag sprinted toward them while Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Even though my mind control wasn’t very developed, I knew she was keeping the guards frozen and silent.
Then Gunn and Jag said in tandem, “Release the weapons. Open this door.”
The guards put down their tasers, punched in the codes to open the door. Vi and I joined Gunn and Jag, and we took a collective breath as the glass slid sideways.
Inside the lab Raine already had her hand cemented to Thane’s. The walls blared with color that almost formed images.
“Damn,” I said.
Jag
9.
This is a trap circled through my mind. Everything felt too easy, despite the fact that Raine’s hand was already glued to Thane’s. A sense of unease skittered over my skin.
“Zenn, Gunn,” I said so softly I wasn’t sure they heard me, but they both sprang into action.
“Release her,” Zenn commanded the lone technician in the room. He didn’t move. Zenn’s fingers curled into fists. “Release her. Now.”
The technician held his ground, his dark eyes glinting with defiance. He thrust out his jaw. “I won’t. You can’t brainwash me.”
Zenn cocked his fist back and punched the technician in the face. He crumpled to the floor, leaving Zenn’s path to the counter of supplies unobstructed. I heard Gunn talking somewhere nearby. I heard metallic clangs and a shout. I heard a girl scream.
But I couldn’t tear my eyes from the two men seated at the silver counter: Regional Director Van Hightower and the General Director of the Association himself, Ian Darke.
Vi had to leave, now. I glanced at her, silently pleading with her to turn and return to River, to Rise Twelve, to safety. She spared me a half-second glance before returning her attention to her father.
“Ah, Jag Barque,” Ian Darke said, drawing my attention from Vi. Everything blurred along the edges, the same way it had when I found myself in that impossible situation in the Goodgrounds almost a year ago. Then, there had been so many voices. So many tasers. So many green robes. I’d managed some major speaking damage—until They silenced me.
Now, only Van and Ian stood before me, but I felt just as unsettled, especially with Vi still here.
Darke smiled and threw his arms wide, as if welcoming me home after a long absence. “So glad you could join us.”
I didn’t know how much time we had, but I knew it wasn’t long. Maybe not even minutes. Could I speak, though? Nope. I just stood there, staring at him. Thinking, So this is who I’ve been fighting for years.
I mean, I’ve always known it was Ian Darke. His profile in the Resistance is legendary. He’s powerful—and power hungry. His file is rivaled only by Van Hightower’s. If possible, he’s even hungrier for control, and rumor is he’d do anything to unseat the General.
“Hello, Ian,” I finally said. Around us, the images on the walls began to wash into grays.
“Jag,” Ian said, his voice scraping against my eardrums. “No cache, I see.” He tsked, as if I were a naughty boy who’d taken his feed out early.
“We just want Thane and Raine,” I said. “No one gets hurt.”
Van’s laugh was maniacal. It echoed off the silver in the cavernous room and actually made Vi whimper. Zenn squeezed her arm, then quickly set to work helping a very weak Raine onto one of the spare hoverboards.
Please go, I begged Vi again, but she didn’t look at me.
“Take them,” Ian said, waving his hand dismissively. “We got what we wanted.”
What? Or who? I thought, my hands tightening into fists. A distant, barely audible pinging echoed in my head. Thane’s drain couldn’t have been completed; we hadn’t been late.
“Everything you wanted?” I asked, molding my voice into coolness. If I could keep Van and Ian talking long enough, maybe the no-one-getting-hurt thing would actually happen.
“Except you,” Ian said.
You, you, you, echoed in my mind. I forced him out, the anger burning through my body with enormous heat. I took a breath to quench the fire inside.
“How’d you get in my building?” Van asked.
“Your city is not as secure as you think it is.” I’d deliberately left River and her team down in the lobby. No need to compromise their identities if I didn’t have to.
Van’s eyes narrowed. His chest rose in self-importance. “I’ve destroyed all the Insider hideouts.”
I crossed my arms and shrugged with one shoulder. “That you know of.”
Rage transfigured his features, and I took a step backward at the change in him.
“You will not leave here alive,” he growled.
“Oh, I think I will,” I said, but my heart jumped as if it might be on its last beats. Just like in the capsule.
I schooled my thoughts, shoving the disturbing reminder of imprisonment to the back of my mind.
Ian snapped his fingers, and a door in the back of the lab clicked. “I’ve heard you have no stomach for confined spaces.”
My breath wisped against my dry throat. I raised my chin in a gesture to Gunn to get the hell out of there. He’d secured an unconscious Thane to a hoverboard. Zenn mounted his board
, and the tethered trio started to rise toward the air duct at the back of the lab, as per our plan. We’d assumed Officers would be arriving on scene via the hallway before we could exit that way.
Gunn held Raine’s hand, his eyes never leaving her face. Vi followed Zenn, a heavy dose of worry coming from her. At least she’d gone with him. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to her if she got caught.
As I remained alone, I logged the direction Zenn steered his board. The ceiling loomed three stories above me. Every wall except the one behind me glared back with metal surfaces. The single door in the back of the lab now bulged with white-coated technicians waiting for the code to be entered so they could swarm inside.
From her position near the ceiling, Vi threw me one last look over her shoulder before the glass wall behind me exploded.
I landed on top of Van, his hot breath searing my face. I scrambled away from him as a team of silver-suited Enforcement Officers entered the room from the hallway. One of them handed Ian, then Van, a pair of sound-canceling headphones while I wiped blood from my forehead and felt an ocean of pain coming from my back.
Trapped, trapped, trapped, I thought. No way out. Can’t get out.
I stumbled toward the back of the lab, pulling my folded hoverboard from my pocket.
Trapped, trapped, trappedtrappedtrapped.
“Expand,” I croaked. The board did nothing, as it didn’t recognize my voice when it was filled with particles of glass, dust—and fear.
I jabbed at the buttons and leapt on the board as the first electro-spheres dropped at my feet.
“Up!” My board shot toward the ceiling, which I rammed with my skull. My back arced when the techtricity hit me, and my board faltered.
Go, I said in my head. Go.
Maybe I said it out loud. Maybe I didn’t. But my board went. I’d fallen to my stomach, and that suited me just fine as my board careened only six inches from the ceiling. There was so much pain in my back, it felt like it had caught fire.
Out, I pleaded, the edges of my vision turning dull. My head felt heavy and soft. Voices shouted below me. Electronics sparked, sending bright bits of techtricity into my path.
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