by Tessa Clare
“Roman’s got a Master’s degree in network security,” Tate chimes in. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s him. Right, Roman?”
I’m not sure about my skills; but for April, I’m willing to try.
“As Gideon once said,” I say, and I can’t help the smile on my face. “I'm just an office assistant. I guess it's about time I show him what an office assistant can do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
APRIL
I don’t know how much time has passed.
All I know is that the sky is dark when I’m thrown into the backseat of a police car.
It’s still dark when I’m brought to a police station and thrown into a windowless cell.
It’s been a long night – physically and emotionally – and yet, every time I close my eyes, all I can see if my mother’s lifeless eyes as she fell face down onto the pavement. Rather than lay my head down, I huddle into a ball and stare blankly at the walls. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel anything. All I want is to slip into nothingness. When the door to my cell opens, and two men in dark clothes explain that I’m being transferred to the custody of the Divinity Bureau, I realize that I’ll be getting my wish.
Once the men finish filling out forms on their tablets – many of which require my signature, which I find ironic – I’m placed into handcuffs and escorted to the back of a black van. One of the men disappears into the front seat, while the second sits with me in the back. He attempts to make small talk with me, but all I can think about is the gun holstered on his waist. I respond to his questions with silence until he eventually gives up.
The trip to the bureau’s headquarters is expected to take a day and a half. I’m exhausted, but I want to stay awake. Soon, I’ll be sleeping for eternity. I stare out the window and watch the sights pass me by - cornfields, billboards, and truck stops. Occasionally, something will pique my interest: a landmark, a unique looking shop, or a striking piece of land. During those moments, my stomach twists in pain. A few years ago, I had plenty of opportunities to do and see anything that I wanted. Instead, I wasted those opportunities on regrets and bitterness, and I’ll never get them back.
As the drive goes by, I think that maybe the scenery is a metaphor for my life. I’ve always defined my life by major moments – the ones of life, death, happiness, and sadness. But life isn’t about those moments. Most of life consists of the mundane moments in between, much like the cornfields that are passing me by.
When the skyline of District 200 comes into view, I realize that I only have a few hours left to live. For almost a year, I’ve skirted on the edge of death – and there it is, staring at me in the face.
The van comes to a stop.
I can’t bear to look out the window because I know what I’ll see. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was standing in front of the building, calling for a fight against the Bureau. The irony isn’t lost on me. I had begun my fight in front of that building, and I’ll be defeated in the same place. Maybe that’s the reason why, the moment I step outside of the van bound in handcuffs, reporters swarm around me.
“April, do you have any last words?”
“What made you think that you’d be able to escape?”
“Do you blame yourself for what happened to your mother?”
I stop in my tracks at the last question, my knees weak. My escort glares at me in annoyance, urging me forward, but all I can think about is my mother’s lifeless face. The truth is that I should blame myself. I was the one that sought her out; and if it wasn’t for me, my mother could’ve lived a long and peaceful life. Her demise had been an unfortunate outcome of my actions.
But I’ve spent most of my life feeling guilty. I can’t change what happened to my mother – but surely, I’ll be able to change something else. If there’s one opportunity that I don’t want to waste…
Roman’s face is the first thing that comes to mind. His words will haunt me until my last moments: “I love you. I've always loved you. I thought I'd get plenty of chances to say it, but now I'm scared that I won't.”
I clear my throat. “Hey Roman!”
The swarm around me goes quiet. I glance around the crowd until I see a camera. I stare right at it, pretending that it’s Roman instead of a bulky piece of equipment.
“Don’t worry,” I say firmly, even though I know that he’ll worry even more. “I haven’t given up the fight. If I get out of here, then I’ll find you, and we’ll run away together. I’m better with you than without you.” I glance at my bound hands. “But in case I don’t, I want you to know that I love you.” I take a deep breath. “I love you.” Another breath. “I’m sorry that I’m saying it on the news instead of to you, but I…”
“Let’s go!” my escort urges on, pulling my arm and preventing me from saying anything more. But I can’t help but take pleasure in the looks of confusion that are pressed on the paparazzi’s faces. When my escort brings me to a holding cell in the Divinity Bureau’s basement, I don’t hesitate to lay my head on the cot and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I thought I’d be dead by the time the day is over, so I’m surprised when I awaken in my cell. Without exhaustion clouding my perception, I’m able to get a better picture of my surroundings: empty walls, linoleum floors, a cot – the one I was sleeping on – surrounded by sterile equipment. One of them appears to be an IV. When I glance at my arm, I realize that the IV tube is inside me.
I panic. I attempt to tear it off, but it hurts so much that I can’t. Maybe I can wiggle it out, a little at a time. What is the pain in comparison to dying? But the task is harder than I can manage. Whatever they had stuck into me, it runs deep – and it’s slowly killing me.
That’s when I notice the label on the bag: Biological Immunization of Neutrons. BIONs. I’m confused, unable to understand why they’re injecting me with the very thing that will stop my aging and make me immortal if they’re trying to kill me. I ponder on it for a moment, and then I decide that I don’t care anymore. I need to get out of here. I make my way to the door and find that it’s being guarded by a red-haired man that I don’t recognize.
“Excuse me,” I whisper. I hate how desperate my voice sounds.
The guard glances in my direction, but the only response I get is a grunt. I press my hands to my temple and decide to try again.
“Look, I know you’re supposed to keep me here until…” Until I die, I think with a grimace; but I can’t bring myself to say the words. “Listen, if you get me out of here – I have money. You can have a lot of it. Hell, you can have all of it. I just don’t want to die. I can’t. I’m twenty years old. I’m supposed to go to college, get a job, get married, and have a healthy life…”
I push the image of Roman’s tear-stricken face out of my mind.
“I don't think you'd be able to have a normal life, even if you wanted to,” a smooth voice interrupts.
I cock an eyebrow to figure out where the voice had come from. It certainly didn’t come from the stone-faced guard. My answer comes a moment later when Gideon Hearthstrom emerges from behind him. I back away as he glides past the guard and unlocks the holding cell. He’s much shorter than I anticipated him being. In my nightmares, he’s the size of the bureau’s headquarters. But standing in front of me, he’s only a few inches taller than me – yet every inch of him is intimidating. His eyes are dark as charcoal; and if I wasn’t already dying, I’m certain I’d be dead by the way his gaze is piercing into me.
“What… what are you doing here?” I sputter out.
“I’m here to sign your paperwork, of course,” Gideon says, his pleasant tone a stark contrast to the bleak ambiance. “We are a government agency, which means we need to maintain checks and balances.” As if making a point, he turns to a tablet hoisted against the wall and flips through a few screens. I briefly catch a glimpse of my picture. “You’ll also need to sign a few forms.”
“I’m not giving you permission to kill me.”
“It’s not a permi
ssion slip,” Gideon replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It’s so that we can release your family for a proper burial.” ‘I don’t have any family left, because of you,’ I want to say. But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Though we can also donate it to science if that’s what you’d prefer.”
I shake my head. “No.”
Gideon turns back towards me. “Suit yourself. But I must advise you; Silicon Labs is searching for acceptable candidates for their latest-”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. My voice quivers. I feel weak from the day’s activities.
“Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the side-effects of overpopulation…”
“Don’t bullshit me!” I hiss. He stops what he’s doing long enough to look at me. Under his scrutinizing gaze, I feel like I might turn to stone at any moment. My heart is racing as I continue, “This isn’t about some utilitarian greater good. You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to bring me here if it was.”
Gideon chuckles. “Wouldn’t it be easier to view me as some hapless villain preying on a poor innocent girl?”
“You already are a villain,” I spit out. “I just want to know why.”
Gideon remains silent, much to my annoyance. I clench my fist.
“Look, I’m already dying!” I press. “Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”
“That’s precisely what I’m worried about,” Gideon replies before he walks across the room to check my IV. “Do you know what a white lie is?”
I stare at him in confusion. Does he think I’m an idiot?
“Of course I do.”
“Have you ever told one before?”
I think of Autumn’s tear-stricken face. “I have.”
Suddenly, his hands are on my face, stroking my chin. I get a whiff of garlic on his breath, and it makes me sick.
“This is for the greater good, April McIntyre,” he purrs.
Oh no. This doesn’t look good.
Gideon laughs. “As I recall, you said that you were going to ‘fight and claw your way out.’ Where is your fight?”
I can feel a cold hand on my thigh. The feeling makes me want to vomit.
I do my best to kick him away, but I’ve hardly eaten or slept in the last few days. My thrashing hardly moves him. Gideon laughs – loud and booming that it echoes throughout the corridor.
“Come on,” Gideon goads. “You said so yourself that the threat of election wasn’t going to intimidate you!” I kick him again, but his hands find its way onto my buttocks. “You said that you were going to fight until you have a say in how you live and die!” He starts to tug on my pants. I squirm under his grip. “’When you have nothing left…’”
I just manage to pull an arm out of his grasp. I use the split second of freedom to punch him in the nose. The IV in my arm is jolted, causing a searing pain in my arm. I move away from him, still in shock at having nearly been violated at the hands of the Regional Chairman of the Midwest Districts.
Gideon takes a step closer to me. “You’re just a little spoiled brat. A stubborn, hot-headed one. You’re a fool to think that you could change the way the world works.”
“So, is that it?” I ask, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re trying to make an example out of me?”
“You’re a liability!” Gideon accuses, taking another step towards me. “Just like your father!”
“Why?” I shout, meeting his gaze with as much ferocity as I can muster. He has me backed into a corner. “Because he damaged your reputation? Because he saw you for what you are: a corrupt fucking BION bot!”
At those words, Gideon’s hands meet my throat – so hard that it feels like he’s squeezing the life out of me. I gasp for air, desperate for the relief of oxygen. None comes.
“Is that what they told you?” Gideon sneers. “That I was corrupt?”
I ache to respond, but no words come.
“Well, let me advise you of this: your family has had more positions of power than any other in the history of the Confederal Districts,” he hisses. “They also have the longest history of corruption. I’ve never broken any laws. I’ve never done anything outside of standard operating procedures. Your father on the other hand….”
I gasp for air.
“Well, his policies have made the election process rather difficult,” he continues. “Your family sold immortality to some very dangerous people. He did everything not only to continue that tradition but also keep the people he loved off that list – and what an idiot he was! We’re in the middle of an overpopulation crisis! We can’t afford to let our emotions get the best of us!”
I think I might faint from the lack of air.
“You think your father was a good man,” Gideon goes on. “But your father amassed a fortune selling immortality to some very dangerous people. Being in Parliament allowed him not to be restricted to a single district! He played favoritism, and it practically destroyed our world. And he accused me of corruption!”
When I’m positive that I’m going to pass out from asphyxiation, Gideon releases his grip on me and throws me to the ground. As I cough and struggle to recover, Gideon steps over me and glares at me. “You’re a McIntyre. If it weren’t for government regulations, I’d kill you right now.” He glances at the IV bag. “But unfortunately, I have procedures to follow. Usually, it's a lot faster than this. All we have to do is deactivate the BIONs in one’s system, and it's an instant death. However, since you didn't have any…”
Once I find breath, I let out a bitter laugh. “So, that it? That’s how you say that you’ve never broken any laws?”
It hits me that just because someone is a law-abiding citizen doesn’t mean that they’re a good person.
“Government regulations,” Gideon replies curtly. “It doesn’t matter, though. Soon –”
He stops when a light goes out. Another goes out a split second later, and another. Within seconds, the room is pitch dark. Through the darkness, I can hear the door creaking open.
Gideon barks, “What the hell is going on?”
“It appears that there was a power outage, sir.”
“Well, fix it!”
“We’re working on it, sir. It should be –”
He’s cut off by the sound of a crash, followed by a grunt. Another crash echoed throughout the hallway. A gunshot fires. I have a momentary flashback of my mother’s face, and I cringe in the corner.
“We have intruders!” a voice yells. “Get them!”
Another shot is fired.
This is my chance to get away. I attempt to crawl towards the open doorway, but I’m held back by the needle in my arm. I cringe at the thought of what I’m about to do. I rip the needle from my arm. It’s long, and it feels like I’m pulling it through the muscle. Blood spills out. It hurts so much that I want to crawl into a corner and nurse my arm, but I need to keep moving if I want to get out alive.
As I crawl towards the door, I’m stopped by a large hand pulling me back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Gideon sneers.
That’s when I hear the undeniable sound of someone getting punched and the crack of a nose breaking. Gideon’s hand falls away. I’m ready to back into a corner, fearful of the intruder – until I hear an all too familiar voice: “Get your hands off my girlfriend!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROMAN
A s soon as April hears my voice, she bursts into tears. “Roman? Is that you?”
With Gideon rendered unconscious from the force of my punch – one that, under normal circumstances, I’d be a little proud of – I take a slow step towards her. I’m too relieved to speak.
My silence only causes her body to rack with sobs. “Oh, Roman, please tell me you’re there.”
It occurs me that she can’t see me. I can see her, thanks to the night vision goggles I picked up on the road, but part of the plan was to shut off the power to keep the Divinity Bureau’s security guards from seeing us.
I kneel to
the ground and take her hands in mine. “I’m here.”
I get a glimpse at her arm. Blood is gushing out, the smell of it filling the air. The smell makes me want to vomit; but instead, I tear a piece of my sleeve off and wrap it around the wound. She’ll need stitches later, but that’s only if we make it out alive.
“Roman!” Finn’s voice barks in the earpiece connected to my Mobiroid. “Six guards are coming your way!”
I pull April to her feet. “We need to get out of here!”
I realize that I don’t have an extra set of goggles. I can’t expect April to run without knowing where she’s going. Without a second thought, I lift her into my arms and dart out of the cell and through the hallway.
Footsteps trail behind me.
“They’re trying to kill us!” Tate screeches, his voice echoing in my earpiece. “They’re actually trying to kill us!”
“We are breaking into a government agency,” Finn points out. “I don’t think it gets more illegal than that.”
Finn has tucked himself away in our old office and keeping his eye on the security cameras. When we got here, I made a few adjustments to the bureau’s security systems. The first was disabling the bureau’s AI security systems, which would’ve killed us instantly had I not known my way around thanks to my two years of employment here. The second was adjusting the security settings on the office door so that it stays locked until it scans my face.
I also left Finn in charge of one of my projects – one that I had spent the entire car ride from District 180 programming. I created a virus to cripple the Divinity Bureau’s systems. All I need to do is transmit it over a WiFi signal. Fortunately, I know the bureau’s networks better than I know myself. One push of a button, and it’ll all be over. Finn and I had argued whether such a method would be necessary. Finn pointed out that it was dangerous and untested. Neither of us knows what the repercussions will be. I argued that it was what was needed. In the end, we compromised on the old-fashioned search and rescue tactic; and we left Finn in charge of the virus. He’d press the button if it were necessary, which we all hoped wouldn’t be the case.
