Abandon p-3

by Elana Johnson

  I didn’t care. The world could come to an end, and I’d be fine. At least then I’d get to sleep.

  Vi entered the room, and shook my shoulder. “Jag, wake up. This is important.”

  I opened one eye to look at her.

  “Darke has left Freedom. So has Zenn. Intelligence says Zenn will be back in the morning, but Darke won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

  The thrill of opportunity shot through me, breaking through my exhaustion. “Nice,” I said.

  “We’re leaving early,” Vi added.

  “Define ‘early,’ ” I said.

  “One hour.”

  My groan mimicked Raine’s.

  * * *

  One hour later I was on my hoverboard, face braced against the wind that howled through the sky. It began to pour, and my hair was slicked to my forehead within seconds. Water weighed down my clothes, and the driving rain made talking without a cache impossible.

  Maybe for the first time, I wished I had an implant. I pulled my jacket tighter and endured the silence within myself. We hit the outskirts of Grande just as the rain tapered off. Laurel sent her team into the sky before I could say anything.

  “Take the lead,” I told her, as if that was the plan the whole time. She smiled sweetly, looking very much like Vi. “How’s Saffediene?” I asked in an attempt to regain my leadership role.

  “She woke up the first day,” Laurel said. “She’s made a nice recovery. Irv had just sent a shipment of medical supplies, so that helped.”

  “How come you didn’t tell us Irvine was Director of Rancho Port?” I asked, looking over her shoulder as if something more interesting was happening behind her. “Indy’s been looking for him for almost a year.”

  “I didn’t know Irvine was lost,” Laurel said.

  “Right. Don’t people bring news when they come through your underground?” I let my board rise as I inserted a new charge pack, unwilling to continue this conversation if Laurel was going to lie to me.

  Laurel matched my ascension. “Plenty of news travels through the underground. My daughter’s sacrifice for one. My older daughter’s death.” Her voice chilled like the wind. “But sorry, I didn’t know his status was in question.”

  “I didn’t know he was a Director either,” I said.

  “Maybe you should take that up with him.”

  “Maybe I will,” I said, just to be spiteful. She knew how to make her words hurt; that comment about Ty’s death unsettled me. I’d been close with her; she’d taught me subtle mind control and sacrificed everything to get me the best voice coaches.

  Laurel flew away, settling into a conversation with Thane. Vi joined me. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  “You made her mad,” Vi said.

  “How can you tell?”

  “I’ve seen that look many times,” she said. “Trust me, she’s upset.”

  “Sorry,” I said automatically.

  Vi laughed. “I don’t care. I like anyone who can make my mom mad.”

  * * *

  “He’s there,” Vi said, confirming Zenn’s presence in the city of Freedom. The barrier was down, and I itched to get inside and see how much damage Isaacs and his team had done.

  My patience won out, and I sent Trek, Starr, and Saffediene in first. All were former Citizens of Freedom, all were well versed in playing both sides. They could get a read on the situation and communicate with the Resistance before we flew in and announced our presence.

  I watched the trio fly toward the ocean, as per our plan. They’d come in over the water as if they didn’t know the barrier was down, find Zenn, and cache us his coordinates and status.

  Five minutes became ten, and Raine sighed. Next to her, Irvine whispered something that made her smile. He handed her a tech gadget, and together they watched something on the minuscule screen.

  I paced. Back and forth, back and forth. My doubts escalated as more time passed. Maybe Zenn was already gone. Maybe he’d hurt Trek and Starr—but Saffediene? I didn’t believe he’d hurt her. She’d said they’d kissed. Zenn doesn’t kiss just anyone. She’d meant something to him, and I wasn’t above admitting that’s why I sent her with Trek and Starr.

  “Jag,” Gunn said. “They’ve got him. Western Blocks.”

  Zenn

  50.

  Before I could call or wave to Trek and Starr, a fierce pain coursed through my body. Hot and crackling, it felt like I’d touched a live techtricity portal.

  I slipped off my hoverboard, free-falling, before another layer of pain added to the sparks still flowing through my muscles. This time the ache was dull, and came from my legs.

  The ground beneath me felt damp and cold. But nothing was as bad as seeing Trek and Starr lean into my line of sight, their faces filled with anger. Trek’s mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying through layer upon layer of my pain.

  Starr stepped aside, and the real torture began.

  Saffediene came into view, her eyes filled with worry but her mouth set in determination. She bent down until her lips met my cheek. Tears coated her lashes.

  “What have you learned, Zenn?” she asked in a whisper, her mouth next to my ear. I remembered how that mouth felt against mine, and the agony inside me doubled.

  “Free or functioning?” she pleaded, desperate for an answer I couldn’t give.

  I didn’t answer—and not because my voice had stopped working. Because, despite my decision to rerecord the transmissions, I still didn’t know.

  Jag

  51.

  “Let’s fly,” I said, dashing to my hovercraft and leaping on board. The others followed me into the sky, and we lifted over the towering wall.

  I landed next to Trek, who stood a few paces away from a fallen Zenn, holding Starr’s hand. Trek had no emotions to speak of, nothing for me to use to form an opinion of the situation.

  Saffediene knelt next to Zenn, weeping into his chest. Her genuine sadness rose into the air, painting the scene in muted colors. Everyone else stayed back, ready for me to take the lead.

  So I did.

  I moved forward and put my hand on Saffediene’s back. She stood, wiped her tears, and retreated to Raine’s side.

  I looked down at Zenn. The old familiar feelings of betrayal and disgust resurfaced. Zenn looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in days and eaten in longer. He wore the same dirty jeans, the same handed-down jacket as he had when I’d last seen him.

  He didn’t look like a Director of anything.

  Zenn pleaded with his eyes. His mouth moved. No sound came out. Vi dropped to his side and stroked an errant piece of hair off his forehead. “He said he destroyed the transmissions he made.”

  She spoke with tenderness; her touch broadcasted her love for him. I understood it, really I did, but her adoration of him still sliced through me.

  “He left the remains in Rise One,” she said. I waved my hand, indicating for someone—anyone—to go check. With regret, I realized that Zenn used to be my number two. He would’ve gone to check for me. And if not him, then Indy.

  As it was, Raine nudged Gunn and they left to confirm conditions in Rise One.

  “He was going to fly back to Arrow Falls,” Vi continued. “To make new transmissions that would gradually awaken the people.” She looked at me with those beautiful, changeable eyes that were filled with tears for her “sweet, wonderful Zenn.” “They have a meeting tonight, after Darke returns from Castledale.”

  “Zenn doesn’t need to go to Arrow Falls,” I said, refusing to let Vi’s emotion for Zenn infect me. I knew she loved me; I wouldn’t be threatened by her lingering attachment to Zenn.

  “Irvine has recording equipment,” I said. “If Zenn is serious, he can make new transmissions, right here, right now.” I motioned Irv forward. “Isn’t that right, Irvine?”

  “Sure thing, boss-man.”

  I knelt next to Zenn and looked him straight in the eye. “Well, Zenn. It’s time to find
out who you really play for.”

  Zenn

  52.

  The fury in Jag’s eyes unnerved me. He looked mad enough to kill me. Or at least mad enough to try.

  I already felt dead inside. First from the gentle way Saffediene had begged me to answer her question. I detected forgiveness in her voice, like I could salvage my relationship with her, even if I thought functionality should prevail over freedom.

  Then when Vi acted as intermediate between me and Jag, I died a little more. Seeing her show emotion because of me reminded me of all we’d been through together. That history doesn’t go away overnight, and it doesn’t vanish simply because we fall in love with other people.

  She would always be my best friend.

  Insider Tip #10: Have a trusted confidant who has your back. You’ll need them when you least expect it.

  And oh, how I needed Vi right now.

  Jag’s statement hung heavily in the air, awaiting a response. I tried to nod, but my body didn’t obey. I tried to speak, but again my voice failed.

  “He’s serious,” Vi said, still playing my spokesperson. “But he needs medical attention first.”

  Jag tore his gaze away from me and left my line of sight. A moment later Irvine Blightingdale crouched next to me, his cold fingers pushing against my forehead, neck, and ribs.

  Something hot blazed against my wrist, and then liquid ice flowed through my veins.

  “You’ll go to sleep for a while, Zenn,” Irvine said in a deep voice that reminded me of my father’s. “When you wake up, we’ll be ready to record.” Irvine left, taking Vi with him. I stared up at the sky, unmoving, waiting to fall asleep, alone in my grief and pain.

  That is, until Saffediene slipped her hand into mine. “I’m here, Zenn. You’ll be all right.”

  * * *

  When I woke up, Saffediene was by my side. Her eyes were closed, and her skin reflected the glow from the p-screen on the wall.

  I lay propped up in a bed. Without the flickering light from the p-screen, the room would’ve pitched into darkness.

  I tried to speak, but only managed a low gurgling sound. The pain was gone, replaced by this drugged condition where everything felt too bright and moved too fast. I couldn’t decide which was worse.

  Irvine entered the room. “Hello, Zenn. Good to see you awake. We’re ready to begin recording.”

  Ready to begin recording? I couldn’t even talk. I gestured to my throat, trying to communicate the problem with Irvine.

  “No problem,” he said. He tapped his finger on the computer beside my bed, and I felt the tension in my muscles ease. “Try it now.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to say. “How’d you do that?”

  “Tech,” he answered.

  “Irv has a piece of tech for everything,” someone said from the doorway. I’d know that voice anywhere. It haunted me in my quiet moments, and it chased me through dark tunnels. It accused me of abandoning Vi, of turning traitor.

  And it was right.

  “Hey, Jag,” I said.

  He regarded me coolly. He couldn’t figure me out, and I hadn’t made it easy for him. Half the time I didn’t know what I was doing, or why.

  I was lost. Others had always advised me. My father. Thane Myers. Jag Barque. Van Hightower.

  And now Ian Darke.

  I had never directed myself, set my own course. I’d been doing what everyone told me to do for years and years and years.

  Jag watched me wrestle with myself, a doubtful glare on his face. “What?” I asked him.

  “You’ve got some weird vibes,” he said. “Are you doing this or not?”

  I wanted to say yes, because it would make him happy.

  I wanted to say no, because General Darke would be furious if he found out.

  I wanted to go back to sleep so I didn’t have to choose.

  In the past I’d always done whatever it took to keep Vi safe. Anything and everything to protect her, to ensure her survival, to keep her as my own.

  But she was already safe. And she was with someone else now.

  How was I supposed to make decisions without her as my motivation?

  I glanced at Saffediene and was struck by the beauty of her freckles. Could she be my motivation?

  Why did anyone have to be my motivation?

  I needed to decide what I wanted, not what I wanted because of someone else. I needed to classify what I liked, what I didn’t like, what I believed, what I didn’t, what brought me joy, and what didn’t.

  I reached out and traced my fingertip along Saffediene’s cheekbone. She startled, waking and searching my face for an explanation.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said softly. I wished Irvine and Jag weren’t here. But my wishes rarely come true.

  Saffediene didn’t respond verbally. She closed the distance between us and kissed me. Then I really, really wished Irvine and Jag weren’t watching.

  I vaguely heard their footsteps as they left.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I murmured against her mouth. She kept saying, “I forgive you. It’s okay,” in between kisses.

  Warmth grew inside me, expanding until it pushed out my fear and doubt. Finally, with my lips raw, I gently extracted myself from Saffediene’s embrace.

  “Saffediene?”

  She snuggled into my side. “Hmm?”

  “Why do you like me?”

  A long pause followed, wherein some of my doubt crept back in. I struggled to keep it at bay.

  “Is this a trick question?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “It’s just . . . No one’s ever liked me before. Not the real me, at least. And it seems that you do. I’m just wondering why.”

  “You don’t see yourself very clearly, do you?”

  I don’t see myself at all, I thought. I don’t know who I am, or what I’m doing, or why. “No,” I said, “I don’t.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow and looked me straight in my eyes. “The first time I met you, your conviction struck me like a weight to the chest. Every word was spoken with complete and utter confidence. You had an answer for all my fears, all my doubts. I remember thinking that you had everything figured out.”

  I barked out a laugh. “I’m really good at lying.”

  “That wasn’t a lie. No one’s that good.”

  I am, I thought, and I really was. The real question was: Had I been lying to myself too, all this time?

  “Zenn,” Irvine called. I stiffened, not sure I could record new transmissions. Not sure I believed the words that I’d need to force out of my mouth.

  “I believe in you,” Saffediene said. “I believe that you’ll find yourself. Just go in there and say the first thing that comes to your mind.”

  * * *

  Irv adjusted the dials on his equipment, twisting one way and then the other. He wouldn’t look directly at me, and Jag wouldn’t look anywhere else. He stared at me, his twisted smirk saying, Let’s see what you have to say.

  I sat as still as possible, looking at the bandages on my knee and ignoring everyone. I tried to organize what I might say on the transmissions, but nothing jelled.

  Then Irvine hooked something to my throat. “Good luck,” Jag said as they both left. Now I had no one but myself to account to.

  I remained silent for a few minutes, trying to find the right words to start. They didn’t come. The equipment blinked, encouraging me to speak already. I knew Jag and Vi and everyone else were waiting in another room, waiting to hear what I’d say.

  I was waiting too.

  I thought of Saffediene, and how she remembered every detail of the first time we’d met. I felt bad that she hadn’t made that big of an impact on me, but I was determined to make it up to her.

  I believe in you. Her words raced through my mind.

  I opened my mouth. “Citizens of Freedom, it is time for you to wake up. This is the last brainwashing message you’ll hear. That’s right, brainwashing. And it stops here, now.
Today.”

  Jag

  53.

  I sat in a darkened room, watching the day fade into dusk. Zenn’s voice still floated in my head, full of conviction.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, his words were perfect. The transmissions were perfect, and they’d been cycling through the feed for the past five hours. Irv had the security in Rise Twelve operating at full capacity, and he and Trek had the communication lines open again.

  But I waited in silence, without a cache, in Ian Darke’s house. Vi had come with me, and I’d managed to convince her to stay upstairs while I spoke with Darke.

  I imagined what I might say to him, how I might incapacitate him. I had nothing. With Freedom in ruins and on the brink of a new, free society, Darke didn’t seem so intimidating anymore.

  Sure, there were more Directors to overthrow and more cities to unbrainwash, but now I knew it was doable. Now I knew we had the resources, the personnel, and the experience to actually carry it out.

  I’d dispatched my traveling team a few hours earlier. They were headed to the friendliest cities—Harvest, Cedar Hills, Grande, Mountain Dale, Baybridge—with copies of Zenn’s recordings. I’d laced my voice over his, and then Gunn had as well. The power of our three voices could wake the dead.

  People everywhere would soon come out of the mental fog they’d been in their whole lives. We’d establish laws, teach correct principles, and let the people govern themselves. I almost smiled.

  My parents had died in defense of freedom. I’d been working for years to see the birth of a free society. I felt a crack in my barriers. I’d let Vi in, at least a little bit. It hurt, but feeling something and experiencing life with someone else was better than feeling nothing and being lonely all the time.

  I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice someone enter the house.

  “Well, hello, Jag,” Ian Darke said, his voice smooth and low. “To what do I owe this honor?” He cast his eyes around the room. “And where’s Director Bower?”