The City Series (Book 3): Instauration

by Lyons Fleming, Sarah

  “Truer words were never spoken,” I say.

  “She’s the one who made me want to go on when everything I had was stuck behind the rubble. We ran into each other in the street. Actually ran into each other.” Louis’ face softens at the memory. “She was running from Lexers, and I was leaving a store. We fell to the ground, saw another mob coming, and took cover inside. We were stuck in there for two days. In those two days, she made me want to live again.”

  If only she were here now to do the same. I get the feeling her death has only pushed Louis closer to the edge. “How are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’ve been better.” He sinks to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. “And I’ve been worse.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I’m ready to end this, as you are.” He stands again and firms up his shoulders. “We’re heading to the castle, and I’ll go in first. That’s the plan.”

  “Why? Teddy’s yours no matter who finds him.”

  Louis’ smile is grim. “That’s not why. You have two people to think of now. They’ll be waiting for you to return every time you leave, and you never want to disappoint them.”

  The unspoken implication is that he disappointed his wife and son. I want to tell him it’s not true—he must know that—but he grips my shoulder briefly and trudges down the hall, leaving me with a hollow stomach and the certainty that I never want to feel the way he does.

  The day passes both slowly and in the blink of an eye. The sun dips behind our building, casting stripes of light and shadow on the people in the park. People who have no idea how their lives are about to change. I wonder if Walt thought the same. Though our intentions are a bit different, to some of them, we’ll be the terrorists.

  Guillermo stands beside me at a window. “I hope we don’t have to kill a lot of people down there.”

  “Fucked up,” I say, watching a kid jump along behind his mother.

  He puts his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Fucked up,” he agrees.

  112

  Sylvie

  We made it through the gate with our rope, and we’ve delivered the bomb to Walt. On our way up from the basement, Paul tells him the bombs in the second cache were gone.

  “I know where they went,” Walt says. “There was an explosion today. It killed some people from Central Park who were out looking for Mo.”

  “I told you that’s what that was!” Paul says to Indy.

  “Fine.” She folds her arms over her chest and mutters, “Mr. Know-It-All.”

  Paul and Indy never fail to amaze me with their off-the-cuff acting. It’s so believable, and Walt has bought it, if his chuckle is any indication.

  “It was a long day with these two,” I say. “I’m going to check the schedule and get some dinner before it’s gone.”

  Walt opens the door to the Oval, then lifts a finger. “Regina told me you’ll be moving into our building soon. Check out the apartments and see which you’d like.”

  We say we will and head to Public Safety. Our new plan has me and Indy on watch while Micah and Paul stay with the residents and help with climbing ropes, respectively. Inside the office, I check the schedule book. Indy and I are on tomorrow, but in the afternoon and on the wrong building.

  “Shit,” I say to Regina. “Indy and I promised to do a shift at the store tomorrow afternoon. Will anyone mind if we switch to night?”

  “You mean will anyone complain that they get a full night of sleep?” Regina asks.

  My laugh sounds forced to me, but she doesn’t react. I pore over the schedule, though I know exactly what I’m looking for, and finally point to the building on the corner of First Avenue and 14th Street. “How about this one? As luck would have it, it’s your shift.”

  “Even better.” Regina crosses out her name and writes in ours, leaving Ed on with us. “I have to put someone with you.”

  She almost sounds sorry. I glance at her deepened frown and see she is. “It’s fine. Who wouldn’t want to listen to Ed talk about himself for four hours?”

  Regina caws out a laugh. “You don’t have to switch. I’m sure we could find someone to fill your afternoon shift.”

  I push away my itty-bitty shred of guilt that Regina will be dead in two days. That I hope she’ll be dead in two days. She’s nice to those of us she considers part of her clan, but that’s not enough. “I don’t want to be written up for dereliction of duty,” I say. “I hear the scheduler’s a real bitch.”

  Regina shows me coffee-stained teeth—the woman’s coffee consumption would put Maria to shame. “You heard right.”

  The amended schedule isn’t perfect, but we knew we’d have to deal with someone on watch with us. I leave and meet Indy and Paul outside. “Went easier than I thought,” I murmur.

  We head to the café, where we sit at our table bursting with the news. When we stand, our tablemates follow like a flock of ducklings to our building. Once in the apartment, Rissa says, “So?”

  “Tomorrow night,” Indy says. She goes on to tell them the plan and adds, “Eric and Casper will have extra weapons. We’ll bring them to you.”

  “What can I do?” Lucky asks.

  “You can sit your ass here and wait,” Indy says. Lucky glowers at her the way Eli used to. “Don’t start, Lucien. I didn’t spend all this time in here so you could be killed when we’re getting out. You can do whatever you want the next day. Just do this for me tomorrow.”

  Lucky continues glowering even as he nods.

  “When will we tell Sharla and the others?” May asks.

  “We tell Sharla and Kitty now,” Paul says, “but no one else until later tomorrow. Someone might talk where Walt could hear.”

  “How about Roger?” Micah asks.

  “I’ll tell him in the morning,” I say.

  I’m not looking forward to it.

  I barely sleep. I barely do anything but go over the plan in my mind again and again. At four in the morning, after my twentieth trip to pee, I find Indy and Paul on the living room couch. They hold hands and stare at the wall.

  “Have you gone over the plan sixty times, too?” I ask.

  “A hundred,” Indy says. “I was about to make some coffee before a hundred and one.”

  “Oh God, yes,” I say.

  She leaves for the kitchen, plugs in the hot plate Roger gave us, and sets a pot of water on top. We don’t use it often, as it drains too much power, but hardly anyone is awake now. I curl up in a chair and pull a blanket over me.

  “You nervous?” Paul asks.

  “Of course, lunatic. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “True. Are you nervous about telling Roger?”

  “A little,” I say. “But I’m more nervous about him helping us when it’s time. His own brother doesn’t trust him to follow through.”

  “We’ll blow the gates if we have to. But just keep on doing what you’re doing. It’s worked so far.”

  I drop my head back with a groan. “Even I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Haven’t you people figured that out yet?”

  Paul snorts, and Indy leans out the pass-through to say, “Roger wants to help raise the baby.”

  Paul’s lip curls with his grunt. “Yeah, that’s not…”

  “Happening?” Indy supplies.

  “For starters. He’s a weird guy.”

  “I know,” I say. “He’s…lost. Like a little kid.”

  It’s the only way I can think to describe Roger. Whether or not he follows through, he knows too much to be kept out of the loop. If we don’t tell him and he suspects beforehand, he might alert Walt to our plan.

  I tuck my clammy hands under my legs. There is nothing about this operation that doesn’t give me agita. From Eric plummeting to his death, to Roger turning on us last minute, to trying to keep over two hundred people alive when the chance of zero casualties is highly unlikely.

  “Just be careful,” Paul adds.

  “I’m not the one who’ll be planting bombs.”

 
“If something happens, and I don’t get out of there, pull that trigger anyway.”

  It’s my job, assigned in previous discussions. Indy and I are to wait in a building across the Oval and detonate the explosives when the time comes. Eric and Paul won’t be able to if they’re caught, or dead inside the café building, which is an outcome I’d rather not go over again and again in my mind.

  “It’s a radio button,” I say. “You click it. But, don’t worry, I will. I’ve been trying to get rid of you for over a year.”

  He chuckles, stretching his arms above his head, and catches sight of Indy’s incredulous stare. “What? If they don’t die, all of us will, especially now that we’ve given Walt bombs. Sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team.”

  “They don’t mean death when they say that.” Indy’s voice is tight. “Why are you even bringing that up?”

  “Because it’s the plan, babe,” Paul says, gentler now. “I know you guys would take care of Leo, and him living is more important than me living.”

  Indy turns away, and we watch her pour the water through a coffee filter with stiff movements. Paul leans forward. “It’s the plan,” he says softly. “You have to stick to it. If I’m not out and it needs to blow, you blow it. Understand?”

  I wink. “Like I said, can’t wait.”

  After breakfast, I knock on Roger’s old apartment door, then enter at his call. He’s bent over, sifting through a cardboard box of papers and things. “Hey, what’s up?” He lifts his head and frowns. “What’s with your knee?”

  “Just the usual. It’s fine.” It aches from the recent commotion and two cold watch shifts a day. Luckily, my chilblains haven’t reappeared. I sit on his couch and wrap my arms around my waist to ward off the chill of the unheated building. “We have a plan. It’s tonight.”

  Roger’s handful of papers drifts into the box, forgotten. “Tonight?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But it has to be tonight. They’ll be outside the gates sometime after midnight, but probably closer to one. It should be over by two.”

  “How about my brother?” When I don’t answer, he says, “I deserve to know.”

  “You know those bombs?” I ask, and leave it at that.

  He nods and blinks rapidly. I wish I could tell him what he wants to hear, but I don’t want to lie to anyone anymore. I’m sick of lying. Once this is done, he’ll discover my lies and omissions, and that will suck enough.

  “I am sorry,” I say. “Roger, he holds your insulin hostage so you’ll do what he wants. How is that healthy or okay?”

  “I know what he does!” I wrap my arms tighter around my waist. The fewer words said here, the better. Roger wipes at his face with his sleeve. “Do I have to do it?”

  “No. Paul will get your insulin. You can help clear the guards at the gates, or give us some weapons if you want. But all we need you to do is let it happen. I’m telling you now because I want you to come. I don’t want you to be in the building tonight.”

  It isn’t a total lie. Though I dread the part where he learns the truth, I don’t want him to die. There are decent parts of Roger, and I think they’d flourish if he frees himself from his brother’s influence. But only he can do that. “And I trust you won’t tell Walt. If you do, he’ll kill us.”

  Roger rubs his forehead. I don’t have a plan if he says no, though Paul waits a floor down, ready to silence Roger, and I have a flimsy steak knife in my bag. It’d sooner bend than do much damage, but I’ll use it on him if I have to. We searched apartments for better knives, but they were stockpiled last year to use on Lexers. After Debra, the biggest and sharpest were moved into Walt’s possession.

  I don’t want to tell him this next part, both because it hurts to say and because I’m unsure how his grief will play out. But maybe it will help entrench him on our side. “Kate’s dead.”

  “What?” His head flies up, his mouth open. “How?”

  “They were coming to The Standard. She walked a bomb into two trucks to buy us time.”

  “That was the explosion?”

  I nod and curb my tears while Roger fights his. I know he cared about her, if for no other reason than she cared for him. He leaves for the hall to the bedroom. Things bump and bang before he returns with two pistols and a box of 9mm ammo, all of which he sets beside me on the couch. I thank him as if I’m not miffed that he’s had these all along and never mentioned them. We could’ve used these two guns to wrest weapons from the guards. They might’ve gotten us out of here before Brother David. Before Kate.

  “I’ll help with the gates,” he says. “Where will you be?”

  “Here. Building Eighteen, fifth floor. Everyone else will be in Eleven. Our plan is to leave after the…explosion.”

  “Why not before?”

  “We didn’t know if we could get everyone out without a big fight.”

  “I’ll get the gates after the one a.m. check-in.” He kneels and stares into his box. “That way there’ll be no one there later, when you do it.”

  “I know this isn’t easy.” I stand and touch his shoulder, then turn to leave. He grabs my hand, and I brace myself before I meet his teary eyes. “Thanks, gutter punk.”

  He laughs and squeezes my fingers in his. I do my best to smile and gently disengage, and I make it to the hall before I start to cry.

  113

  Eric

  Just before ten p.m., we wait in the lobby of the building by Central Park. A mob of Lexers passed a while ago, but none since. Carmen’s gate is directly across the street, fifteen feet tall and shut tight. I unclench my fists and breathe. This is expected to be relatively easy, which, nine out of ten times, means it won’t be. Easy or not, I only want to make it to StuyTown.

  Chris sucks on his inhaler. “Preemptive strike,” he says once he exhales.

  Julie rubs her hands on her pants legs. “Maybe you should stay here.”

  “And miss the fun?” He pulls her under his arm. “I’ll be fine. That’s why I took it. Don’t get all mom on me now. I’m not giving up the chance to point a gun at Landon Mann.”

  “That actor guy?” Mo asks. Chris nods. “Carmen said he got eaten. Thawed zombie in Saks Fifth Avenue.”

  “Well, shit.” There’s a moment of stunned silence before Chris adds, “Am I the only one who feels genuinely bad for Landon, but also a teensy bit not bad we won’t have to listen to him for the rest of our lives?”

  I try not to laugh, but tension makes it impossible. Julie smacks him with a giggle. Snorts rise all around before Mo motions us out the glass doors. We cross the street quickly and hit the sidewalk, where he raps twice on the gate. My heart pumps faster. I expect it to go wrong starting now, but the gate opens and Carmen waves us onto the path.

  “Most of them can’t wait to get rid of Teddy,” Carmen whispers as we walk. “He tried to kick out four more people yesterday.” She stops a hundred or so feet in, where the path splits, and points to our right. “Castle and guard containers that way. Kieran will go with half of you. Everyone I spoke to knows to stay away from there, so shoot if they shoot. I’ll be at the gates.”

  Half of our thirty-some people head to the right, me included. The bright moon forces us to wend our way through the trees beside the path, where we won’t be seen. We hurriedly cross a road and head past an expanse of rock, then stay in the shadows once again.

  Kieran lifts a hand where the path becomes a four-way intersection, and we stop. He motions to the right. “Castle is that way. Best of luck to you.”

  Louis has already edged in that direction. Jorge, Casper, Guillermo, and I catch up to him on the path and keep our boots silent on the incline. In the moonlight, everything looks either pale or deep black. Leafless trees cast spooky shadows on Louis’ face when he stops at the final curve before the stairs. He motions to me and Guillermo, then whispers, “We’ll go to the Ravine entrance.”

  It’s on the other side of the terrace by the castle door. Jorge and Casper will wait before they move on the gu
ard here and then keep watch on the path. Louis leads me and Guillermo on a circular route through the trees until we come out facing the side of the castle. The winter wind blows the tree branches and moves dead leaves across the path, and it should hide any soft noises we make.

  Louis points at the man standing at the top of the short staircase to the terrace. We move slowly, guns out. I think we’re silent enough, though it’s hard to hear over the pounding of my heart in my ears. When we’re only feet away from the bottom step, Louis’ command to freeze is drowned out by a burst of gunfire from the Great Lawn. The man takes off for the terrace wall with Louis just behind. Guillermo and I follow, arriving to find Louis with his pistol to the guard’s head. “Drop your gun.”

  “Fuck you,” the guard growls, and shouts, “Teddy! We’re being attacked!”

  Louis squats, lifts the guard’s legs, and propels him over the terrace wall. A yell is punctuated by a hard thump, then a rolling sound and a splash. I’ve heard people hit rock on a climb, and that sounded like the time a guy’s head hit rock sans helmet. He didn’t make it.

  The castle lights flash on behind us, and gunshots come from the far end of the terrace, where we left Jorge and Casper. I run in that direction, leaving Guillermo and Louis to deal with Teddy, since Carmen assured us only he and Lauren are inside.

  I stop at the top of the staircase. The stairs here go down two short flights, then turn at a landing and descend another flight to the path. A man fires at Casper and Jorge, his gun momentarily lighting his location on the landing where he uses a stone wall as protection.

  I fire three times. There’s a scuffling sound, then the thud of meat hitting the stone stairs. I light the mini flashlight hooked to my jacket. The guard lies motionless on the landing, his leg bent under him at an unnatural angle, but I run down to be sure. “It’s Eric!” I call. “I got him.”