Nobody spoke about the attack here in Castledale. No one reported on what had happened in Freedom.
For that one hour, we were friends. Not rebels.
All too soon someone bustled the dishes off to the kitchen. Trek took Starr by the hand and disappeared into the tech wing. Vi delivered breakfast to the infirmary, where Raine refused to leave Gunner’s side.
Thane talked quietly with the new arrivals from Freedom, then he assigned them bedrooms and returned to the table while most of them went to catch up on sleep. I wanted to rest too, but first I needed to hear Mason Isaacs’s report.
They’d taken down Freedom. Set the Technology Rise on fire. Reduced Rise One to a skeleton of rafters. The Evolutionary Rise had toppled, and while the Medical Rise hadn’t, enough damage had been done to deem it structurally unsound.
“Ivory’s a genius,” Isaacs said. “She had this patch that dissolved walls. The whole wall! That’s how we gutted Rise One.”
“Nice,” I said.
“We should get her set up with Trek after she’s rested,” Thane said.
I nodded. “Continue.” Vi had returned from the infirmary, and I rubbed slow circles on her back as a way to distract myself from thoughts of Pace and what might have happened to him during the attack on Freedom.
Hightower hadn’t expected a second wave in Freedom. Elsewhere, yes. But not in his city. And certainly not with his clones guarding every major Rise and forming a humanoid perimeter of the city.
Hightower also hadn’t anticipated anyone else being able to control the clones, especially with Vi out of the picture. Isaacs had activated his team in Rise Twelve but hadn’t been able to gain access to the Technology Rise. Good thing his daughter was a genius with creating fake identification credentials.
They’d simply walked into the Evolutionary Rise with fake badges and wide-brimmed hats. There, Ivory had modified a piece of tech that would make the deaf clones hear.
They found Gunner in the Evolutionary Rise and busted him out. Since he was the only one with a voice, Gunner took out the clones, despite his weakened condition.
I shivered at the voice power and mental fortitude that must’ve required. People without voice talent didn’t understand the gravity of using it. Or the responsibility—and the guilt—that accompanied extreme verbal persuasion.
I made a mental note to talk to Gunner privately when he woke up. He’d need the emotional support, and he’d need it from me.
“Did you see my brother?” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name.
Isaacs studied me for a moment, his mouth turned down. “I’m sorry, Jag. Pace did not survive the experimentation. I think the only reason Gunner did is because of his adaptability to tech. That, or Van was keeping him alive because of his multiple talents.” He cleared this throat. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“And Indy?” Vi asked.
“No sign of her,” Isaacs reported. “The records show that Modification had not occurred before our attack, so . . .”
I would not give voice to my hope, though my mind screamed, She could still be alive!
“Once the clones were gone, the rest was easy,” Isaacs continued. “Van had no defense. We took out his Technology Rise, which forced the techtric barrier to fail, and then we hightailed it out of there.” He sat back in his chair, finished.
“Where’s Van?” Thane asked, as if he was the leader. Annoyance bolted through me, but I held my tongue.
“Dead,” Isaacs said. “He did not survive the collapse of Rise One.”
I wasn’t glad for anyone’s death—not even Van Hightower’s, as his daughter sat just down the hall, and someone would have to tell her. That someone would most likely be me.
“Our team had considerably less success,” I said.
“We lost Zenn,” Vi added from beside me, her eyes closed.
“We didn’t lose Zenn,” I argued. “He abandoned us.” The words made me ill. The four waffles I’d eaten and the half gallon of milk I’d drunk swam in my stomach. “He’s a traitor. He chose to go with Darke. He’s—”
“We lost Zenn,” Vi repeated. She put her hand on my leg under the table, and some of my anger drained out through her touch.
But I didn’t apologize. Zenn was a traitor.
Thane shot me a glance. I nodded for him to continue. Without Indy or Zenn, Thane might as well act as my second-in-command.
“Okay, so there are twenty-five of us,” Thane said. “We have two tasks: find Laurel and her team—and anyone else who might be out there in the city—and evacuate. I think our window of opportunity for both is shrinking. We need to be in the sky by nightfall.”
As much as I didn’t want to, I agreed. I said so, and then assigned everyone four hours of sleep—Thane included.
We’d face the city at noon.
Zenn
44.
It took thirty men three days to rid Freedom of the bodies. At my directive, they dug shallow graves in between the wall and the barrier. In the rubble of Rise One, I found Van Hightower’s body.
For some reason, I couldn’t look away from his face. Director Hightower looked peaceful, but for the gash across his neck. A strange sensation filled me from the toes up. Grief.
“So much death,” I murmured. The crew collected the body and took it to the gravesite along with the others. We filled the shallow troughs, covered them with dirt, and began the process of restoring the techtric barrier.
General Darke still hadn’t figured out how to do that. Little more than ash, the Technology Rise and all its capabilities were history. Rise One had been gutted. All medical records and scientific evidence had been lost. Runners had been sent to Grande and Arrow Falls to ask their Directors for any tech they could spare, but they hadn’t returned yet.
All transmissions had been silenced for the past three nights. I wondered when the people would shake off their brainwashed haze. How long before they’d realize they could leave their houses without an alarm going off or even receiving so much as a citation?
Even the cache system had failed. General Darke and I had to speak aloud to communicate. He’d found a pair of empty town houses with minimal damage, and we’d moved in next door to each other. Today the city’s remaining Thinkers were gathering for a meeting of the minds.
We sat in General Darke’s kitchen-converted-into-war-room, waiting for him to arrive. When he did, we stood as one, each of us lowering our chin slightly to acknowledge his superiority.
I used to dislike these little acts of subservience. Now they allowed me to breathe without worrying about who I was to report to and what I’d need to lie about. Now I didn’t live a lie. I simply lived.
The light coming in the skylight flickered. Lightning. A few minutes later, as General Darke spoke in his steady, controlling voice, rain pelted the glass.
I couldn’t help thinking of Saffediene caught out in the thunderstorm. My mind wandered, imagining her wet clothes clinging to her chilly skin. Her hair slicked off her forehead as she frantically searched for somewhere to ride out the storm.
Briefly, that somewhere had been my arms. My breath shuddered on the way in, and General Darke cast me a knowing look. I buried my emotions deep, deep.
I hadn’t been able to save Saffediene in Castledale, and I certainly couldn’t now. I didn’t know if she’d been rescued from the electro-net, or if she’d been captured. She had told me to work things out with my father, when really she meant I needed to figure out if functionality overrode freedom. Too bad this city—and this government—was no longer functioning.
I fingered the single-use teleporter ring in my pocket, part of me desperate to put it on.
Where I would go, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Anywhere away from this conflict and dilemma would suffice.
Instead I made eye contact with General Darke. I wanted him to know that I was paying attention.
“We’re a bit crippled without technology,” he said. “We can’t get our ca
che system to work, and the barrier is still down. None of the runners have returned.” He turned to the Transportation Director, a Thinker I knew little about. “Marco, have you heard anything?”
“No, sir,” Marco said. “The runners are trained to be fast. They have ways of communicating with the Directors without dealing with barriers and rules.”
Three days had passed. They definitely should’ve been back by now, especially since both Grande and Arrow Falls are within a half-day’s ride of Freedom. If General Darke was worried about their tardiness, he didn’t show it. But Marco did. His hands twisted over and around each other; he glanced from one face to the next.
I caught his eye and made the slightest motion with my right hand. Calm down.
Insider Tip #9: Never show your agitation. Agitation is usually a sign that you have something to hide.
Which made me think Marco totally had something to hide. I’d need to position myself next to him before he left. Find out everything I could. That’s what Directors do. They know everything that’s happening in their city, and I needed to know what Marco was hiding.
General Darke spoke of the cleanup, reading verbatim from my report. No one else knew that, but I did. He went through the list of people we’d lost during the Resistance attack. New Thinkers were needed in the Medical, Evolutionary, Confinement, and Technology Rises. Freedom needed a new Director, and that person would also become the new Regional Director in the eastern city belt.
He assigned new Directors, some of whom were in the room and others who would be promoted from their current jobs. New weight settled on the shoulders of those assigned to crumbled Rises, as they’d be responsible for getting them rebuilt and functioning.
“With the loss of Van Hightower,” General Darke said, “Freedom needs a new Director. I won’t be able to stay here forever.” He surveyed the group, and I felt like he was judging each of us. I wasn’t sure I met his expectations. Scratch that. As a seventeen-year-old who had very recently played for the other side, I didn’t come close to the General’s expectations.
The experience and talent—and loyalty—of the other Thinkers in the room outweighed mine, despite the General’s recruitment speech in Castledale. I knew I had talents he wanted, I just didn’t know if they were enough.
“Zenn Bower,” he said finally. I don’t know what he saw when he looked at me, but I saw a calculating old man when I looked at him.
I was the most surprised by the announcement, but definitely not the angriest. But no one argued with the General. They’d accept me as their Director, because if they didn’t, they’d die. General Darke would make sure of that. For now, I appreciated his protection. My fists clenched as I wondered what would happen when the General left Freedom and I had to Direct by myself.
* * *
Once the General concluded his business, I edged my way over to Marco. I met cold glances and near-silent scoffs every step of the way, but I didn’t care. I’d been on the fringes of the Insiders for weeks. The girl I loved disliked me so much, she’d punched me. Nothing here was as agonizing as being in the same room with Vi yet not being with her.
I sipped my bottled water as Marco chatted with the new Medical Director. He finally stepped away, and I seized my opportunity. “Tense in there, yeah?”
Marco looked at me, but said nothing. He zipped his jacket as if he might leave before General Darke dismissed us. He wouldn’t. So I said, “The runners are probably just caught in the storm.”
“Hopefully.” He turned away from General Darke, who lingered near the head of the table, speaking with the new Evolutionary Director.
“You used to run, Zenn. What’s it like out there?”
“Dangerous,” I said, bringing my bottled water to my lips to disguise their movement.
“Hmm.” Marco fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets to mask his agitation. It was a classic Insider move. When nervous, hide your hands. I practically wrote the manual on Insider behavior, and I recognized all the signs.
“Who’d you send?” I asked. “Maybe I know them and can tell you of their flying abilities.” I was lying, of course. Why would a former junior assistant from Rise Nine know any of the city’s runners? Employing my voice power, I asked again, “So who’d you send?”
Marco bounced on the balls of his feet. “No one. I didn’t send anyone.”
I couldn’t help it; I stared openly. Was he confiding in me, or had I coerced him with my voice? Was he playing me, the new Director of Freedom, hoping I wouldn’t discipline him for his daring act of rebellion? Now, when the General would punish anyone who so much as sneezed before asking permission?
“What are you going to do about it, Director?” he asked, sneering out the last word. That’s when I knew: He knew what I would have to do, and he was pushing me to see if I’d do it.
I made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
* * *
Three days later, Marco was buried in a shallow grave alongside the clones. General Director Darke stood next to me, his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture of support.
I didn’t cry. I’d done that at home. At night. In private. Well, mostly. General Darke had witnessed one episode when I couldn’t call back the tears fast enough. He hadn’t chastised me. He’d simply said, “Hard times call for hard decisions, Zenn. You wanted to run this city, you have to run this city.”
Then he’d left me alone in my townhome to cry, cry until I didn’t feel anything anymore.
Afterward, I’d ordered Marco’s execution, and I’d sent runners to Arrow Falls and Grande.
They were due to return within the hour. With their intel, maybe I’d be able to get security back up in Freedom. Maybe I’d figure out a way to get the brainwashing messages out again.
Maybe I’d find a way to regain control of my Citizens. Six days had gone by without a single transmission. My voice wasn’t strong enough to make recordings, even if I had the proper equipment.
And the people of Freedom were waking up. Yesterday Citizens began to venture outside their homes. I’d used the remaining Enforcement Officers to herd them to the green area outside Rise Two, and I’d asked the people to bring any tech they had stored in their homes.
So far only four people had brought items, and they ranged from a sleeve of microchips to the family food dispenser. I couldn’t refuse them their only way of eating—I wasn’t that heartless—and I’d sent them home again.
The only reason I hadn’t been run out of town, or buried in the shallow graves I’d helped dig, was because of Marco’s execution. The people were afraid.
I was running my city on fear.
When my runners didn’t return at the appointed time, I retreated to my town house. I couldn’t cry anymore. I’d made my choice when I signed Marco’s death sentence, and I’d live with it.
If General Darke didn’t kill me first.
Jag
45.
The heat is so strong, I can taste it. Fire rages all around me. I’m trapped in the middle of an inferno.
I jam a teleporter ring on my finger, but don’t have time to say anything before I blitz into particles.
It doesn’t matter where I end up. Anywhere is better than being burned alive.
* * *
When I land, it’s much too quiet. I turn in a slow circle, seeing only desolate land. Nothing grows here, and I’m reminded of the projections I’d seen in school. The images of ash, of decaying bodies, of death.
This place smells like death. It’s almost as horrible as being in fire, this being-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere thing. I have a feeling no one’s been here in centuries. It feels that decayed.
The sun shines weakly, and the ground is covered with a thin layer of frost. There’s no wind here. It’s as if even the elements stay away from this place. I start walking in what I hope is a southerly direction, because I think I’m in the country north of the Association—the country where everyone died.
* * *
Y
ou’re lost, I tell myself for the hundredth time. I’ve been walking for hours. The sun will set soon, and I’ll be left in the dark, where no one will ever find me.
At least there are no Thinkers, but the thought doesn’t ease my desperation.
Suddenly Vi strolls next to me. She whispers that it’s noon and I need to wake up. I try to find her, but the sun has gone out.
It can’t be noon if the sun is down. Can it? Nothing makes sense.
And then it doesn’t matter, because I’m in the capsule again, and the dirt is raining down, and there is no escape from that tomb.
* * *
I woke when I hit the floor. I thrashed, my injured foot making contact with something hard. I’d kicked a person, and they cursed.
“Jag, wake up.”
I pushed into a sitting position to find Starr rubbing her kneecap. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t wake up well.”
“Vi said as much.”
“Sorry,” I said again. I looked at Starr and found her bright yellow hair appeared freshly washed. “You’re looking good, Starr.”
Her eyes reminded me of my mother’s. Sharp and full of life. She didn’t miss anything.
“Thanks to Trek,” Starr said. “Thane’s been nursing me back to health too.”
“Is there anything that guy can’t do?” I asked.
A smile seeped across her mouth. “He’s got quite the temper.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked, folding my arms behind my head. “All the best guys have tempers.”
Starr laughed and turned to leave. “I’ll go get Vi.”
“Don’t bother,” I said. I could feel Vi’s pity coming through the walls. “She’s lurking in the hall.” Annoyance flashed through me. Vi got someone else to wake me up?
“You have freaky dreams,” Vi said, still out of sight.
I didn’t answer. I hated subjecting her to my nightmares, but surely she realized what she was, what she could do. She’d need to figure out a way to block my thoughts, my dreams, everything.
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