They moved slowly, checking for intruders at every step. Meke focused on extending her sight as far as possible. She had been practicing expanding her reach. It had worked; she could feel the sense reaching further, centimeter by centimeter. Now her sight extended a few meters further than before. Meke guessed that she could feel almost fifty meters out, but she had no way of measuring her range.
All Meke could see or feel was the cat, still trailing them. Her brain was starting to ache from the exertion. Meke couldn’t keep her attention on the inconstant periphery of her sense for too long, so her energy flagged as they walked.
When they finally caught sight of the flat grasslands beyond the mountains, Meke’s concentration faltered. She hadn’t seen the flat golden grasslands in eight years. She stared at the grasses rippling in the wind. She exhaled, hoping she would get to feel these prickly straw-like reeds. She pushed her sense back into attentiveness. Once she did, alarm overtook her.
A large shape drifted at the edges of her periphery. A human shape.
It was motionless, perched on a tree. Meke strained her brain a bit more and felt five more bodies, all on tree branches. They resided right at the outermost edges of her slowly expanding sense. She was positive that these figures were soldiers. They all held something in their hands, and they didn’t feel friendly.
Everyone else moved cautiously, but steadily. Their faces remained intent but calm.
Meke started to wave at Arya, Trove, anyone. Nobody looked at her. Panic wracked her mind. Meke stood there, her mind oscillating between Arya and the people in the trees.
The figure closest to them raised something to his shoulder. Meke had only seen them a few times before; it was a crossbow.
Before any thought formed itself, Meke’s feet were pounding onto the moist forest floor. As she crashed into Arya, a sharp object blew by the back of her neck.
Seven, eight, nine—Meke lost track of the number—pointed things flew overhead. Meke squeezed her eyes shut, but felt everything. She jerked away just before one flew so close that she felt the breeze as it passed her. The figures in the trees dropped down to the ground and closed onto them.
Arya lay under Meke’s weight, but her eyes were alert and searching. After the assault receded, Meke craned her neck and saw a victim of one of the darts—Cecil. Theria had dragged Cecil’s motionless body behind a tree. Trove had already taken cover a few meters in front of Theria, his sword out.
Meke could feel the outlines of the figures approaching as Arya shook Meke off and slid up against a tree. Most of the soldiers held crossbows, but some had swords and daggers too. Arya fumbled around for her knives.
Suddenly, Meke felt an attacker to their rear make a fast approach, darting behind trees. Other soldiers circled around, more cautious. Meke shook Arya’s shoulders, but the woman continued to stare into the forest toward the point where the attack had come from. The lone figure stood away from the tree, raising his weapon with its sights set on Arya.
Meke could feel her own breath rush past her teeth. She could feel the man’s every breath as he adjusted his grip with an eerie certainty. Adrenaline focused her mind, putting her target into full relief; no longer was Meke overwhelmed and dizzy with sensory overload. She only saw the man with the crossbow.
Meke kept thinking, “Arya will see. Arya will notice me.” As time stretched out, Arya didn’t move and Meke thought all was lost.
The black-brown cat leapt onto the man’s face. A whirl of black and brown surrounded the man, then was gone. The man was on his knees, free of the tree’s cover. He clutched his face, absorbed by his pain.
Shocked out of her stupor, Meke seized a dagger from Arya’s belt and threw the dagger, hoping for the best. She had never even held a dagger before so the dagger didn’t fly true.
But the aim, however poor, was good enough for an injury. The dagger imbedded itself into the man’s arm. His mouth opened to scream. Meke only had a moment to be surprised at some semblance of accuracy, and to be repulsed by it all.
Arya’s own dagger followed Meke’s by only a few seconds. Arya’s dagger flew truer, burying itself deep into the man’s chest.
Arya craned her head. A moment of stillness passed, then Arya turned to Meke. “How did you know that man was there?” Meke shook her head, but Arya took hold of her chin. “I need to know. These aren’t institution guards. These are real soldiers, far better trained. We’re outnumbered.”
The image of Cecil crumpling onto the ground sprang unbidden to her mind. The choice became clear, however Meke’s heart protested. Meke ignored the gnawing vulnerability that grew inside of her.
Meke raised her hands but hardly knew what to say. “I can see more than I can see.” That didn’t make sense, so she tried again. “I can feel shapes that I can’t actually see with my eyes. I can feel all around me for a good number of meters.”
It felt odd to tell someone about this. Saying these things made them real, more vivid.
Arya’s eyes widened. “You can see the soldiers around us?”
Meke nodded.
Arya blinked, then shook off the daze and nodded. “Okay, can you tell me about them?”
“There are five more people. They are further out,” Meke replied.
Arya whispered into her handheld, keeping an eye on Meke. “Where are they, and are they close to Theria and Trove?”
Meke had to close her eyes to fill her brain more easily. Two of the figures were closing in to Meke and Arya, but the remaining three were near Theria and Trove. One was only a few meters away from Trove. Meke described all of this as Arya translated her words for the others. After a few moments, Arya tucked her handheld into her pocket and faced Meke. Then Arya asked her about the ones closest to them and Meke told her.
Arya clenched her remaining three daggers so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She pressed down her hand palm-down, “Stay.”
Meke shook her head. “Give me something to defend myself with.”
Arya looked at Meke and with tight lips, she took a dagger out of her boot. With a quick flick of her wrist, Arya put the dagger’s hilt into Meke’s hands. “Be careful with that thing,” Arya said, then she was gone.
Meke still didn’t know what to do with the weapon. Having it in her hands still made her breathe easier. Even if someone came, she had a chance—a small one, but a chance nevertheless.
Regardless of whether she wanted to or not, Meke felt Arya’s figure glide in a large arc around a soldier. Arya drew closer to the man, her feet picking through the broken twigs and cones on the forest floor. The man remained still, watching some unseen point.
Arya struck quietly and efficiently. One moment, the man was crouched behind a tree and the next, he lay facedown with a dagger in his back.
Meke’s legs felt weak. She slid down the tree’s trunk into a sitting position, still clutching her dagger. As Meke rested her weary legs, she felt the small, familiar creature approach her. Her jangled nerves made her jump when the cat rubbed himself against her, purring furiously. Then she smiled and welcomed him into her lap and stroked the dusty fur, glad to feel something good and solid under her fingers.
◆ ◆ ◆
“Hello.” Arya crouched by her. The cat had long since fled, startled by something. “May I have that back?” Arya pointed at the dagger in Meke’s hand. Meke handed it over, sorry to abandon such a small comfort. “Everyone’s safe now.” Arya sighed, rubbing her mouth.
“That’s good,” Meke said. Numbness pervaded her every limb, every muscle and every thought.
Arya sat in front of Meke, shaking her head, smiling. “I thought Sterling was wrong, you know. But he was right. I shouldn’t have doubted him.”
“What? What does that have to do with me?”
“We’ve been feeding him information from the institution for years. He told me to bring you after I sent him your latest brain scan. I thought they’d finally killed you, so I wanted to get you somewhere safe. So, I agreed. But he said i
t was something more.”
The realization weighted down on her. This Sterling, this unknown man, brought her here because of what she could do. Somehow he had figured out her secret before she had.
“So this Sterling will use me? As what? A weapon?”
Arya’s mouth opened, but she closed it. “No. Don’t you think like that. He’s a great man. He saved the revolution. Without him, we were just—” she waved her hand, “—amateurs. We have a real chance because of him.”
Meke’s arms felt too heavy for signing. They had just rescued her because of what she could do for them. She wasn’t sure what they wanted from her, but she was sure that she didn’t want to give it. This alien feeling inside of her was becoming hers; Meke wouldn’t give it up.
“I understand,” Arya said, “it’s too much for you right now. We’ll keep you safe now, then you can figure it out.” Arya glanced up. “Trove will keep you company until I can get a hold of our escorts.”
Something crumbled inside of her. As she stared at the rocky soil in front of Trove, she thought of her life. Nearly everyone had lied to her, placating her so she would become a willing petri dish. Now, Sterling expected her to do it all over again. Worst of all, it was Arya who expected that of her. Meke had thought Arya as a friend, her savior. Now, she couldn’t depend on that. All Meke wanted at that moment was to be alone
But Trove stared at her, his dark eyes steady and unyielding. His lips upturned in a small smile. His body didn’t pulse with tension, he just lounged and looked at her. Meke stared back, packing as much annoyance as she could into her stare. Trove looked back, an impassive gaze edged with smugness.
Meke couldn’t do anything about Arya or Sterling, but this, this—she could do something about.
She threw a pebble at his shoe. Instead of striking a major blow, it skidded off his boot. Trove furrowed his brows, looking at the pebble as it bounced away. Meke pointed at the handheld. Without complaint, Trove handed it over. She banged away at the screen with little regard for its safety, her fingers awkward as she navigated the unfamiliar keyboard.
What is your problem? Why are you smiling at me like an idiot?
She tossed the thing back to him. It would serve him right if it broke. Trove held the handheld close to his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe these words. He probably couldn’t. Meke bet that nobody had ever called him an idiot before, being a Fiver. Meke took the small bit of glee for all it was worth.
Well, I must admit, I’ve never been called an idiot before. It’s an interesting feeling, not as bad as I would’ve thought. Regardless, pardon my misplaced cheerfulness. You see, it’s nice to be right once in a while. I thought something was strange about how you reacted, but I figured I was imaging things. I’m right so rarely, I want to enjoy it when it lasts.
Meke snorted. Somehow, his idiotic words cooled her off, just a bit. It was a lie, of course. A Fiver rarely erred. Still, lies or not, Meke smiled. His grin, however, still annoyed her.
Meke glanced back at Cecil and found Theria and Arya crouching by the boy’s prone body. The smile fell away from Meke’s face.
Trove tapped her shoulder and Meke turned toward him. He angled his handheld so she could read it.
Cecil was shot with a tranquilizer dart, not a bolt. He’s just unconscious.
Meke let her head fall back onto the tree, relieved, Even though her secret was out, Cecil was alive. She almost envied Cecil—sleep would be a treat at this point. Trove settled back onto the rock, arms crossed. His mouth curved downward as he tried to puzzle out something. Meke thought that something was her.
Meke straightened, hating the intense gaze. Most people, even at the institution, didn’t think her worthy of their gaze. Finally, he typed something.
You saved us. Thank you.
The words on the screen had embarrassed Meke with their kindness. Meke didn’t think she had saved anyone, so she kept her eyes down. Finally, she glanced up at Trove and was glad to find him looking elsewhere. He still crossed his arms, but there was no mockery in his stance, just tiredness.
Of course he was tired, Meke thought. He had to kill that woman. He had struck her down with a sword, a quick and brutish end. Still, what kind of man can look bemused so soon after taking a life? Suddenly, she wondered what brought this man, with heavy stubble on his cheeks and chin, to this place. It was also odd how calmly this man took the news about her vision.
A slight tickling sensation at the periphery of her vision shifted Meke’s thoughts. It was the cat again. It drew closer, darting between trees. It didn’t stop at the forest line as Meke expected, but snuck closer, its tail sweeping the ground. Meke’s eyes darted to Trove. At that moment, Trove noticed the cat and got to his feet, a knife in hand.
Meke cried out; Trove stopped and looked at her. Meke slowly shook her head and her lips formed the word, please. Trove’s dark eyes went back to the cat. Cat or not, it was still a strange intruder. With a harsh sigh, he sat. Meke’s body relaxed—the creature would live one more day.
The cat froze and arched his back, puffing up his thin fur. After a few moments, the cat continued his slow approach. When he finally reached Meke, he climbed into her lap and curled up, purring. At first, Meke had no idea what to do, then the it became obvious: pet him. Meke stroked his fur, marveling at its softness despite the cat’s wildness.
Meke wondered what she should call the furry creature.
Trove looked at the cat, wide-eyed and took a few hesitant steps toward the cat, his hand stretched out. The cat’s small head turned and his yellow eyes narrowed. Meke could feel his body rumble in a growl. Trove persevered, his hand closing in on the cat. The cat rewarded him with a bite on his index finger.
Meke smiled and stroked the cat’s fur. Parts of the fur was matted with mud and dirt, but Meke didn’t care. Serves him right, she thought, for ignoring the cat’s clear message; the cat most certainly didn’t want Trove’s hands near him.
Trove retreated, nursing his finger along with his pride. His head snapped up when Theria and Arya approached. Before they reacted to the cat, Trove held up his hand and murmured something. Theria looked at the cat with undisguised disgust and shook her head.
“What is that thing?” Arya asked.
“A cat.”
Arya squinted at him. “I’ve never seen such a thing before. Are you sure?”
“Yes, it looks like the pictures in the books.” Meke picked away clumps from the cat’s fur “He saved us, you know.”
“How could such a thing save us?”
“He jumped on a soldier before he could attack.”
Arya crouched down, examining the cat from a distance. “Well. It does have claws.”
“Can he come with us?” Meke asked, trying not to hope too much.
Arya paused. “Well—I don’t know, it doesn’t seem proper.”
“Please? I’d take care of him.”
“Okay,” Arya finally said, her eyes still on the cat. “On another note, I talked to the envoys. They’ll be here next morning. It’s just too dangerous. We’ll move soon to anew hiding place.”
Meke shuddered. Arya leaned in, her mouth half upturned. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
Meke wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MEKE LAY in her sleeping bag, her eyes wide open. The numbness had faded hours after the attack. Now Meke Lichota knew she was in trouble.
Don’t believe them. Her mother had been more right than she had realized. Meke’s brain started to hurt when she thought of Arya. Meke tried to calm down, but failed. She wondered if she should just slip away in the night and leave this mess behind.
Surely, she couldn’t survive on her own, not as a Zero. Not as anyone, even—the wilderness wouldn’t allow anyone to survive. Or would it?
Meke, like everyone else, believed Prosperon when it declared nature dead and buried. With a dead Mother Nature, only Prosperon could provide engineered food, made at smoky and dirty plants.
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Meke could feel the little creatures scurrying around her. Not just the cat. Ants crawled up the wispy evergreens. Feathered creatures flew overhead. Life flourished all around her. All these things seemed strange for a barren land. She kept poking and prodding until the idea took shape. Perhaps Prosperon had lied about nature’s death.
Meke curled up, knees to her chin. Maybe, just maybe life hid under these trees and plants. She had seen Trove pluck a leaf off a tree, then eat it. And the cat obviously could survive.
The idea’s purity shocked her; she could live on her own, without Prosperon. Without people who wanted to possess the thing inside her, she would be free. Meke pulled her knees closer.
But, could she do it? Meke didn’t know. Even before the institution, she had spent her ten years in Vigorton, where only steel and concrete rose from the ground. Meke barely knew the difference between a fern and a tree. Maybe it didn’t matter. Now that Meke understood the nature of Genex, she wanted nothing to do with it. The Genex Stars had taken her body and used it without her consent. She didn’t want that to happen to her ever again. Meke wanted to feel like every limb, every muscle and every cell in her body were hers and hers alone.
Maybe she was doing a damn fool thing, but it was her choice.
That night was a moonless, starless night, perfect for what Meke had to do. As everyone grew still with sleep, Meke eased herself into her strange new sensory world. She explored the flood of images and feelings. Now that her sense had become more practiced at sharing space with her thoughts, she could think and see. Her head still felt heavy, but the weight was becoming more comfortable, more familiar.
She blinked; someone sat only a few meters away, facing the woods. It was Theria.
She should’ve expected a sentry. Meke nudged down the sleeping bag, easing her body out of the warm cocoon.
Meke knew that she sometimes made sounds when she moved. People jumped when she felt a snap underneath. Sometimes, sound made things shake or vibrate around her. If something heavy fell in another room, sometimes Meke could feel the vibrations. Unfortunately, the forest floor was too solid to permit any vibrations. Meke fisted the sleeping bag’s fabric. She needed to be careful, then.
Secret Value of Zero, The Page 5
