by Louisa Lo
“You’re talking about the credit-card society we’re living in today.” Chelsea exhaled deeply.
“Were living in, until a few weeks ago.” The general nodded grimly, the smirk gone from his face. “With the blessing from Her Majesty the Queen, and the top leaders from every Commonwealth country, the nanobots were released into the general population. They were in the very air that we breathed, in the soil that grew our food, and in the water that we drank. The nanobots were designed to break down after a few months, surviving just long enough to give the economy that kick it needed. A simple and marvelous plan, wasn’t it? But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. For some unknown reason, the bots refused to die, and even started replicating themselves. As a result, every year people spent more and more out of their means, until one day they became obsessed with nothing but shiny things.”
Chelsea’s head was spinning. The general had just told her the origin story of the Obsessed—the result of a government secret project, no less, yet all she could focus on was one thing.
Her daddy was a neuroscientist.
“Yes,” General Roland said, seemingly reading her mind. “He was the young man in that story.”
“No!” Chelsea whispered. She felt like the floor had just opened up and swallowed her, dropping her into a deep well of shock and despair.
It couldn’t be. Not her dad. He was a man of integrity.
He was also a man who was passionate about scientific discoveries, a treacherous voice in her head whispered. This would be just the kind of project that would tickle his fancy. And his title and position probably didn’t hurt his chance for being trusted by the Queen.
Chelsea thought back to all the times through the years that her dad had dismissed the very idea of the Obsessed, which was rather uncharacteristic of him given how protective he normally got about anything and everything that might threaten his little girl. Could it be that his denial of the Obsessed’s very existence actually stemmed from an inability to come to terms with his own role in their creation?
“You’re saying that these na-nanobots have been directing humans to consume goods?” Chelsea asked.
“To consume, yes, but to eat as well. The two commands aren’t that distinguishable to the brain,” the general continued. “That’s why you saw Obsessed who would bite into anything remotely valuable.”
Chelsea thought about that night on the highway when she had met an Obsessed for the first time, and how he had chewed apart an entire watch before her very eyes, She shuddered. Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait, do the nanobots somehow heal their injuries?”
She doubted it, not with all the broken teeth and nails she’d seen on the Obsessed.
General Roland gave a mirthless laugh. “Of course not. They just dull the pain with the same suppressant meant to lower a person’s guilt when they envision maxing out their credit cards. But that also means that the Obsessed will just keep coming and coming. They do not have pain as a natural deterrent to their actions.”
Chelsea fell silent as she took it all in. Even a deeper understanding of the Obsessed’s dangerous nature could not distract her from thoughts about her dad’s potential role in designing them to be so, even if he had had the best of intentions.
General Roland took his time sipping his drink, then he said conversationally, “Some traditions are so time-honored, they survive to this day. Do you know they still write ballads for debutantes, lauding the young woman’s various admirable attributes?”
Thrown off by his sudden change of subject, Chelsea could only stare at him.
“These attributes often have a theme, such as beauty, charm, or elegance,” the general continued.
“What’s your point?” Chelsea snapped, fueled by the incredulousness of his bizarre words. Of course she had heard of the custom of creating ballads for young socialites—she’d been a debutante herself not so long ago—and the general knew it. What did that have to do with the Obsessed and what her father might have done?
“When your mother debuted, the theme they picked for her was modesty,” he murmured.
Modesty. That was a kinder word for a woman who was considered plain, austere, or simply sucked at fashion. None of those were applicable to her glamorous fashionista of a mother.
“She didn’t become the person you knew growing up until she married your father, at around the same time that he made the breakthrough with the nanobots,” General Roland said softly.
Just when Chelsea thought she couldn’t take any more, from surviving an apocalypse merely weeks ago, to discovering that her father might be responsible for said apocalypse, now the general was suggesting that her mother might’ve been her dad’s guinea pig?
“Your father claimed it was an accident,” General Roland said, holding up his hand. “Somehow, a few nanobots survived the decontamination process when your father left the lab at the end of a work day, and he inadvertently brought them home with him. He felt very guilty about having infected your mother, especially since that particular prototype didn’t just stop at financial carelessness. It also encouraged the lowering of, shall we say, standards when it comes to sexual partners.”
“Are you saying my mama had been promiscuous all those years because of some bots in her body?” Chelsea gaped at General Roland. “All thanks to my dad?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Your mother was known for her shyness and love of science. Haven’t you ever wondered how your parents could’ve gotten together, if their personalities were as polar opposite as they were when you were growing up? That’s because it didn’t happen that way. When they first met, your mother was your dad’s match when it came to nerd tendencies. And haven’t you wondered why, after their marriage fell apart, your dad went on and tolerated your mother’s very public affairs without ever uttering a single word against her? He was motivated by guilt and self-blame, that’s why.”
Chelsea wanted to protest, to accuse him of concocting wild theories and tarnishing her father’s reputation. But she couldn’t. As horrible and far-fetched as it sounded, everything he said fit the puzzle she had been trying to solve all her life.
“So don’t go criticizing my military approach, girl,” General Roland said softly. “When you’re the child of the one who created the world we must now live in.”
“What really happened to my dad on the day of the Obsessed attack?” Chelsea asked.
“Nobody knows,” the general shrugged. “Your dad was supposed to be on his way to America. His plane lost contact a few minutes after it crossed the ocean, but hell if I know whether it actually crashed. And I have no idea how he ended up so close to this base. What happened to him is as big a mystery as what triggered a good portion of the world’s population to turn into Obsessed all at the same time. It’s only been a gradual change for the last few decades.”
“You must have some theories,” Chelsea suggested. She got a feeling he knew more than he let on.
“Maybe it was a critical mass thing,” General Roland said noncommittally.
“Or maybe you suspect that my dad might have triggered it somehow.” Chelsea narrowed her eyes.
“He’d been off that project for years. Ever since your mom…” He trailed off. “But whether or not the mass turning was his idea, he seems to have fallen victim to it himself.”
Chelsea wanted to hide from the world. How could she face Emma, Day, and the rest of them ever again if her father was indeed the one who brought all this misery and loss into their lives? She just wanted to dig a hole and stay in there for the rest of eternity.
But General Roland wasn’t done with her just yet. “So you see, you have a duty to be the queen that the people need. You owe them that much for all the damage your father has done.”
For some reason, rather than submitting to his will, his words caused her to become defensive, not to mention a little suspicious. “Just how did you know all this, if it was a state secret? Did my dad tell you?”
“My dear,
your father had been my friend for a long time. But the truth is, I didn’t know what he was up to until long after he quit. My rising position in the military had, shall we say, enabled me to be privy to a few things through the years.”
“And now you want me to keep doing this Queen job.” Chelsea laughed shakily. “I can’t. I’m done being your puppet.”
Not only could she not trust the general, she couldn’t even trust the legacy of her own family, whose blood was coursing through her very veins.
“You will do it. And the photo op, too. And you’ll do it with a big smile on your face.” The general’s voice was menacing, and Chelsea felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Or what?” she asked.
“Or I’ll tell the world what your father has done and let the angry mob have you.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even blink as he delivered the threat, so she knew he meant it. “The people have been willing to tolerate the infamous Lady Spendalot on the throne out of desperation, but once the news breaks that your kin is the one responsible for their desperate state to begin with, there will be no saving you. May I also point out that I control both the military and the media. You won’t even have the means to defend yourself.”
Not that she was defendable, if what he told her about her dad was true.
And even if what he had just told her was a lie, would she ever be free to find out the truth? She would never know if Anita had even managed to locate her dad.
“Alright,” she said with her head lowered. She didn’t even have to pretend to look defeated—she felt it in her heart. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Now that he had her consent, the general was back to his charming self. “I’ll have my guards escort you to do the new broadcast. Benner’s people should have everything else edited by now. We’ve brought in a few refugees for you to shake hands with right in the studio. After the broadcast, you’ll return to your quarters with the guards. They’ll be your new security detail from now on.”
Her heart ached not only at not having Day near her anymore, but she also worried what would happen to him, his men, and Ruiz. But asking about them now would only get them into more trouble.
Being guarded 24/7 by the general’s own trusted men also meant that she was truly trapped. After her little rebellion, General Roland would be sure to watch her like a hawk from this point forward.
What was she to do?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dictator
The new broadcast went as well as could be expected, considering how numb Chelsea felt inside. She shook hands with both the civilians from the camp and the soldiers who had accompanied General Roland on his way out to intercept her. There might even have been a medal or two she had handed out, but the memory only vaguely registered in her mind because it was all a farce anyway.
And she was the worst fraud of them all.
Chelsea curled up in bed that night, unable to sleep. Her guards were right outside her quarters. At least they weren’t in her living room. There was no moonlight coming in through her bedroom window, leaving her dark and alone in her misery. Having crossed from late fall into winter, it was getting colder even indoors now, though her shivers came from deep within her. They had been there since her chat with General Roland.
A knock came at the front door.
Chelsea wished whomever was standing in the hallway would go away, but she was fearful they might be bringing news of those she’d come to care about. The danger could have come from the Obsessed, or worse, General Roland. She got out of bed and pulled on a large, thick robe. She opened the door.
“Day!” Rather than army fatigues, he was dressed from head to toe in black, with a dark cap to boot. He looked more like a cat burglar than a soldier—not that she’d ever met a cat burglar before. One of his shoulders was bulged up more than the other. That must be the area he had gotten bandaged up from his wound.
Her joy at seeing him turned to dismay when her gaze moved past him and looked at her two new guards, now unconscious on the hallway floor.
She gasped. “Oh God.”
Had Day just knocked them out? Wasn’t he in enough trouble as it was?
Another man rounded the corner of the hallway. He was dressed in exactly the same manner as Day, though shorter and less muscular, but no less lithe in his movement. It wasn’t until he was close to Chelsea that she could tell who he was. It was Ruiz.
Without a word, the men grabbed the guards under their armpits and hauled them inside Chelsea’s living room. Then Ruiz closed the door and took in her fluffy robe. “I’ll secure the area. I don’t think anyone will come looking this way, but it’s best we get going. Get dressed, kid!”
“Whoa,” Chelsea held up a hand. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”
“Canada,” Day replied. “It’s where Cox is.”
“Who?”
“General Cox.”
“Another general?” Hadn’t her current dilemma stemmed from having one of those in her life? Why would she wish to meet another one?
“Not another general—the general. Cox has more stars than Roland and he’s the real de facto leader of the military.” Day thinned his lips. “Of course, you wouldn’t know that, not from all the propaganda Roland’s people have been spewing out.”
“When and how did you two find out about this?” Chelsea asked. One would assume that General Roland would want to keep everyone ignorant about it. Heck, she certainly had had no clue.
“I didn’t know until I got back from that camp,” Ruiz replied. “I was missing a few final pieces to build my ham radio, but thanks to the general’s little interrogation, I managed to lift what I needed to finish the construction. That’s when I learned about Cox.”
Chelsea couldn’t believe her ears. “You were questioned and you used the opportunity to steal the necessary parts for your handmade radio?”
Day laughed. “Yeah, that was my initial reaction. I guess I would be more alarmed under normal circumstances.”
“Who else is coming to Canada with us?”
“You, me, Ruiz, and the others who helped us.” Day’s jaw hardened. “And I’m taking my sister with me.”
Chelsea paced back and forth. “So let me get this clear. Ruiz got his radio built, and found out about this General Cox and his stronger claim to military leadership. Now you want us all to sneak out, get through who-knows-how-many Obsessed there are between here and Canada, just so I can be puppet to yet another general?”
Day exchanged a look with Ruiz. “Look, it’s not the best solution, but it’s better than staying here.”
“Why?”
“Because General Roland is more dangerous than you knew.”
“Yeah, I figured that out. He threatened to throw me to the mob if I didn’t cooperate.”
“What?” Ruiz and Day hissed at the same time. Chelsea bet they would have been a lot louder if they weren’t mindful of keeping their voices down.
“Long story.” Chelsea flipped the idea of leaving over and over in her head, and came to a conclusion. “I can’t go.”
“Why not?” Day demanded. “You just said yourself he threatened you.”
“I know what I said, but here’s the problem.” She wished Day wouldn’t look at her like she was killing him. She took a shaky breath. “I’m valuable to General Roland. Like it or not, I’m an effective part of that propaganda machine he needs in order to legitimize and consolidate his power. If I’m gone, they’re going to search high and low for me. For us. We’ll never make it. But if I stay, there’s no reason to waste time and resources chasing after you. To him, you’re just foot soldiers and civilians he had no use for anyways, and the Obsessed out there might just take care of you for him.”
Ruiz hissed, “The kid’s got a point.”
Day glared at him.
Chelsea turned to Day, gently placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Take Emma and her mom with you. I don’t want them to become political pawns in Roland’s ga
mes. He knows they’ve helped me, and he’s not going to forget that.”
As much as she wanted to go with Day, she couldn’t. The selfish part of her wanted to, though. She wanted to taste his lips again, to see where their connection would take them. But perhaps the definition of true leadership was the willingness to give up what one wanted for the greater good. She’d been spoiled and pampered all her life, and had privileges that others could only dream of. Maybe it was time for her to give back.
“Look, you can’t stay here.” There was urgency in Day’s voice. “When I first gathered the men for the rescue, they told me things that I haven’t had time to tell you. Things that motivated them to join me beyond having families at the camp. It has to do with what happened within the military the day the Obsessed attacked.”
Chelsea tried to remember what General Roland had told her. “You mean how some Flag Officers started attacking other Flag officers, forcing the basic soldiers to shoot at their own admirals and generals?”
“That’s only half the story.”
“What’s the other half?”
“You know how it takes a bit of time and patience to check whether or not someone had been turned?”
“Yeah.” Chelsea remembered how the first time she met Day he had almost mistaken her for one of the Obsessed. Thankfully, he had asked her repeatedly to put down the single shoe she had picked up for self-defense. In following his instructions she had proven to him that she wasn’t a monster.
“During the chaos and confusion,” Day said with disgust, “General Roland had ordered the vetting process be hastened.”
“Hastened,” Chelsea said, horrified. “You mean he ordered his men to shoot without being a hundred percent sure if those they targeted were real monsters?”
“At the first sight of possible turning, the order from General Roland was shoot to kill.”
