Swarmed

by Simone Pond

  Maybe Achilles has been gone too long to remember what it’s like to be a Short-Timer? The constant struggle of managing a diminishing inventory of days. Or what it’s like to never have a prudent reserve. He’s been gone so long that he doesn’t remember what it’s like living with a ticking time bomb on your wrist. Sadness seeps through me as the reality of this situation sinks in: Achilles doesn’t want to leave this place.

  “You seem to be doing well for yourself. How’d you manage this?” I deflect the topic from my inability to plan ahead.

  “It’s a long story.” He pulls a deck of cards from his pocket and begins shuffling the cards. They have the same custom design of the cards he had back home—a sword piercing a black heart over a red background. His nimble fingers move rapidly, maneuvering the cards with extraordinary precision.

  “Remember family poker night?” I smile, hoping to pull on his heartstrings.

  He grins, a hint of melancholy shadowing his eyes. “I remember you always winning. Still don’t know how you did it.”

  “You used to get so mad. Mom always had to calm you down—”

  “It was a long time ago.” His sharpness throws me off, and we sit in drawn-out silence. He sets the cards next to a tray of poker chips and stares off. It appears our happy family reunion has come to a screeching halt.

  “What are you really doing here, Achilles? Give it to me straight. I’m kinda running out of time here, brother.”

  “I’m heading up the DOD program,” he says this like it’s no big deal. Like we haven’t spent our life watching people around us struggle for more days. Like this is just another job assignment to keep the System of Balance running. But his words cut straight to my core. When I don’t say anything, he lowers his gaze to the floor. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It never is.”

  “Look, I can help you, Kal. Adjust your DOD to give you a lot more time. You’ll never have to work hard. You can take better care of our father.”

  His cavalier attitude turns my mood sour. He has no idea what I’ve had to endure. “Take better care of our father? I’ve been doing my best and it’s still not good enough for the SOB. If you were home, we could take care of Dad together. Things could go back to how they used to be. We could be a family again.” Tears begin teeming, and I quickly brush them away.

  “Things can never go back to how they used to be.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you can’t come back home,” I plead with everything I’ve got.

  “I’m not ever going back. It’s too late for me. But it’s not to late for you. Let me fix your DOD. I can give you as many days as a Long-Timer. You can do something useful with your life. You have so much more potential than a Short-Timer.”

  “But I am a Short-Timer. And so are you.”

  He stiffens and raises his chin. “Not any more I’m not.”

  “If you honestly think making me a Long-Timer would fix things, you really have been gone too long. I came because I thought you were in trouble. It turns out you’re in much deeper than I thought.”

  “I don’t need your help, dear sister.” His voice is rimmed with ice. He stands and goes back over to the fireplace, clasping the mantle.

  I snatch up the deck of cards and put them into my drawstring purse—for no other reason than to have something of his close to me—and join him next to the crackling fire. My long pursuit to get my brother back home, to be a real family again, has been meaningless. It pains me deeply to know Johnson was right. Achilles has sold his soul to the SOB. The avalanche of reality crushes me. But I have a choice, I can either walk away and return to Richmond without Achilles or hand him over to the Borders. If I leave, it won’t matter to him. He’ll continue working for the Technocrats and ruining the lives of innocent people. People like our mother, who was swarmed long before her time. I know what I need to do—what I have to do.

  “I need some air, Achilles. Let’s take a walk.”

  Achilles opens the French doors, and we step outside into the expansive backyard. The sticky-sweet scent of roses adds to the nausea swirling around in my stomach. I don’t feel good knowing I’m about to hand my brother to the wolves, but he’s left me with very little choice. Not only does he favor the DOD program, he runs it. We stroll down one of the walkways toward the gazebo where Johnson and George are hiding somewhere nearby. They’ll take Achilles off the premises and interrogate him until he hands over information about the server on Jekyll Island. Anxiety tightens in my throat with each step closer.

  Before we reach the gazebo, I make one last gallant effort. “You still have time to make this right.”

  He laughs at my suggestion and steps up under the dome of the gazebo. “And you still have time to make things right. Eight days to be more precise. Let me help you, Kal.”

  “I’m not the one who needs help.”

  “The system might not be perfect, but it’s in place for a reason. It keeps things in balance.”

  “Balance? Do you hear yourself? Do you remember what it was like for us?”

  “We all have a choice.”

  “No we don’t! We’re at the mercy of a system of algorithms that make unfair decisions. Look at what it did to me.”

  “I tried to warn you about that, but you didn’t listen,” he says mournfully.

  “If you believe so strongly in the system, why are you so insistent on changing the DOD it assigned to me?”

  Achilles digs his fingers into my arm, frustration brimming in his eyes. “It’s a shame. You have everything going for you, but you’re throwing it away. For nothing.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m giving you one.”

  “And what about Dad? What about the other Short-Timers? You’re better than this, Achilles. How can you work for the very people who killed our mother?”

  He sneers with a bitterness so palpable my stomach turns. “She dug her own grave. Clearly, a family trait,” he mutters.

  The rage that sparks inside me could catch this entire estate on fire. It pains the core of my soul to admit it: Achilles is a lost cause. The truth can sometimes hurt indeed. And I need this conversation to end. I want to get the hell out of Savannah. Find Noah and get back home to Richmond. From there I can figure out what to do with the rest of my short life. Why are Johnson and George stalling? I glance around the yard, looking for any signs of them.

  “They’re not coming,” Achilles says.

  “What?” The wind expels from my chest, and I stumble backward, leaning against the railing.

  “Your friends. They’re not coming.” Achilles raises his brow.

  The whole universe, and every star in it, evaporates into nothingness. I can’t think. I can’t see. “What have you done?” I whisper.

  “They’re in a safe place. At least until I get the information I need.”

  I have to get out of this place immediately. Get to Noah before they do. I turn to flee, but Achilles grabs the back of my neck, holding me. Twisting out of his grip, I pull away. He steps on the skirt of my dress, tripping me up. I tug the material and run down the steps into the grass. Achilles yells for his bodyguards. The gargantuan man who had patted me down earlier comes from the shadows and charges to me. The lights from the library aren’t within view. I keep running as he chases after me, nipping at my heels. I can’t get to the house quick enough, so I make a last-second turn around a corner. Someone grabs me, pulling me into a row of hedges. It’s Noah. Before I can say anything, he bends down and yanks on a hose, making a straight line across the grass. The bodyguard whips around the corner and trips over the hose, nose-diving to the ground. Noah grabs my hand, and we blaze a trail toward the hedge maze.

  “You can get us through, can’t you?” he asks.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Good enough.”

  We enter the maze, still holding hands and running down the narrow aisles. I can’t get enough air into my lungs or oxygen to my brain. The pattern is all jumbled in
my head, and we’re going in circles.

  “I’m completely turned around,” I cry.

  “Just concentrate. You can do it.”

  Turning left, I jostle into one of the bodyguards. Noah dashes away in the opposite direction, leaving me behind. The man corners me and aims his gun. “Stay right there,” he orders.

  I lift my arms and collapse to my knees in surrender. As I go down, one of the seams in the torso of the dress splits open. The taut casing lets up, and fresh air fills my lungs. Breathing properly is so divine I forget all about the bodyguard, until he chuckles at the sight of my corset poking through. While he’s distracted, Noah comes up from behind and swings a croquet mallet, cracking the man’s head. The giant crumples to the ground in a heap. Noah reaches down to help me up. By the time I’m situated, another bodyguard runs up from behind and tackles Noah.

  “Go!” he yells as he’s rolling out from under the large man.

  But I tug his arm, helping him back up. “I can’t just leave you! We’re in this together, remember? That was our deal.”

  The guard lumbers over and swings at Noah. He dodges the punch and shouts at me again, “Go!”

  The only way to save Noah—and the others—is to get out of this maze and back to Harper. I nod, hoping my eyes convey that I will be coming back for him. That he’ll be okay. The guard hits Noah in the temple with the butt of his gun, rendering him unconscious. Then he comes for me. I silently say goodbye to Noah and bolt down one of the paths. I force myself to concentrate on the image of the maze. I know it’s in my head. Darting left, then right, I hit another dead end. But I don’t give up. I close my eyes and picture the maze from where I stood on the terrace. Finally, the visual begins to manifest. I can perceive the way to the exit. I reach under my skirts and yank off the petticoat. Without those annoying hoops hindering me, I’m able to get to the exit before taking a bullet. I run into the woods and make my way to the meeting place.

  20

  (still 8 days remaining)

  Walking through the woods in the dark is no easy feat. Even without the petticoat and hoops, I’m struggling to make good time. It doesn’t help that I can’t figure out where I am in relation to the meeting place. I use the moon as my point of reference and keep walking. Ever since I entered the woods, I’ve had a strange feeling that someone was following me, and when I hear a loud snap of a branch, my suspicions are confirmed. I’m not alone out here. I duck behind a tree and wait to see who’s following me. Since neither of my brother’s guards are exactly sthy, I know it’s not one of them. I’m hoping it’s Noah, but the sick feeling in my stomach tells me it’s not. Peering around the side, I catch a flash of movement in one of the bushes. It could be a wild animal, but I don’t want to wait around to find out. I remove one of my shoes and toss it toward the bushes, hoping to shake out whatever it is.

  “Whoever’s out there, I’m onto you,” I shout in my most rugged tone, holding up my other shoe.

  A shadowy figure steps out from the bushes and starts to approach. My eyes slowly adjust, and I recognize the dapper gentleman.

  “Roman?”

  He quickly shoves something into the pocket his swanky dinner jacket. “There you are, Kalli.”

  “Why are you following me?” I ask, baffled by his sudden appearance. We both look out of place in our evening attire, though my garment is torn and battered.

  “I heard what happened. I apologize for not getting to them before Achilles’s men. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  “I barely made it out. I can’t believe my brother sent his henchmen after me!”

  “Your brother is in a difficult position.”

  “Are you defending him?” I snap back, flustered that anyone in their right mind would side with my brother.

  Roman approaches carefully. “Absolutely not. I can’t imagine, as his sister, what you’re feeling right now. Your own brother turning against you. It’s appalling.”

  Before I can contain myself, tears spring to my eyes and my chest heaves. I’m going to fall apart in front of this stranger. Roman reaches out his hand and pulls me closer, easing me against his sturdy chest. Once I let out the first whimper, it’s impossible to hold back the rest. Years of pent-up heartache spill from me as Roman strokes my back with a gentle touch, murmuring that I’ll be okay.

  “I’ve been searching for so many years,” I cry between gasps of air. “I’ve squandered days and weeks. All of it in vain. He’s one of them. One of them …” I slobber like a blubbering damsel in distress and hate myself for it. I don’t like being so vulnerable and exposed in front of a stranger. But Roman—patient and valiant Roman—stands strong and holds me in his arms until I’m all cried out.

  “I’m so sorry.” I pull away, wiping away the tears and ruined makeup with the back of my hand.

  Roman gives me his handkerchief. I clean up my face, taking long and comforting breaths. Slowly, my dolor begins to lift, and the pain sitting on my chest isn’t as unbearable. I hold out the soiled handkerchief, and he politely waves it away, smiling. “Keep it.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I’m a complete mess. Aren’t I?”

  He grins. “You’re lovely, Kalliste.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  “So, do you have any idea where you are?”

  “Not exactly. But I know where I need to get. South entrance of the fire road.”

  Nodding with assurance, he takes my hand and leads me in the opposite direction I was originally headed.

  “You doing okay? That was quite a scene back there,” he says.

  “I’m chalking it up as the worst night of my life. To date. I can’t wait to get out of what’s left of this dress and into my regular clothes. I don’t know how you put up with this society nonsense.”

  “We do what we have to do.” He sounds firmly resolute about that, and I couldn’t agree with him more.

  “After we get to Harper, we’ll have to go back and get them.”

  “First of all, that would be like returning to the lion’s den. And second, you don’t have a strategy. You can’t go waltzing back into the war zone without a plan.” Roman is trying to protect me from further injury, and possible death, but I’m not about to comply.

  “Like you said, we do what we have to do. I’m not leaving Noah behind. And I can guarantee Harper won’t leave Johnson. We’re going back.”

  “Your brother will probably take them somewhere else.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Roman stares at the ground, unable to look into my eyes. I take his chin and force him to look at me. “Tell me. Please.”

  “He’ll take them somewhere to torture them for information. Safe house locations. Headquarters. Names of resistance members.” He pauses a moment before he says, “And then he’ll kill them.”

  I grab hold of a tree to keep from falling. “Torture and kill? Are you serious, Roman?”

  His elegant face peers down at me, staring pensively into my eyes, but doesn’t say a word, which gives me the answer. I can only handle so much heartbreak for one evening. I can’t let Noah die by my brother’s hand. Not after all he’s done for me.

  “There’s no way I’ll ever let that happen. Harper and I will go back and get them. With or without your help,” I tell Roman.

  He takes my arm and pries me away from the tree. “Well, then, we better make haste and get to Harper.”

  “You’ll help?”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  I give Roman a big hug. He takes my hand and leads me deeper into the woods. Whenever I trip over a branch or tree root, he’s quick to assist. He doesn’t tease me for being clumsy or get irritated when I have to yank my dress free from a snag on a branch. He’s considerate and helpful. Once again, my skirt gets caught up on something and tears a large portion of material, exposing my bare legs. Roman remains a perfect gentleman.

  “Thank you for helping me. I’m forever indebted to you.”

  “I couldn’t
leave you alone in the woods.”

  “And thanks for letting me cry. It’s not every day you discover your brother is a murderous bastard.”

  The closer we get to the fire road, the more concerned I get about Harper’s reaction. I had one job—to get my brother outside—and I failed everyone.

  21

  (still 8 days remaining)

  By the time we reach the meeting place, I’m a ragged mess. My hair is hanging loose in tangles, and any remaining makeup is smeared from sweat and tears. The once-beautiful dress is shredded and tattered. I can’t imagine what Harper’s thinking when she jumps from the hood of the truck and runs over.

  “Where’s Johnson? The others?” Her voice is frantic, and her eyes are wild.

  “They’re, um, back at the house,” I stammer.

  She examines my torn dress and messy hair. “What in heaven’s name happened?”

  “It went terribly wrong. You all were right about Achilles. I tried to convince him to come home, but he wouldn’t budge. Then when I tried to run, he had his guards chase me down. It was awful.” I bite my lip to keep it from quivering.

  “What about Johnson? George? Where are they?” Harper’s voice skips a few octaves.

  I look down at the dirt, shame weighing on me, wishing things had gone a lot differently. “I brought Achilles to the gazebo, like Johnson said. We waited and waited, but they never showed up. Finally, Achilles told me they weren’t coming. I narrowly escaped and found Noah, but one of the guards got him while he was helping me. I ran for my life. If it weren’t for Roman, I don’t think I would’ve made it out of the woods.”

  Harper gets real quiet, staring off to the sky. I step back afraid she’s going pounce on me for jacking things up.

  “I’m sorry,” I say desperately.

  “It’s not your fault.” Her voice breaks off. “I can’t believe they got caught. There must’ve been men guarding the perimeter. Dammit!” She kicks the dirt and paces along the fire road.

  “We have to go back for them,” I say.