by Ellery Kane
“Thr-ee.” His voice shook slightly, breaking in the middle of the word.
“Two.” Now he was whispering. He wasn’t going to make the jump, and he knew it.
“One.” There was complete silence. Maybe I had been wrong.
For the next five minutes, I heard constant movement outside. There were muted, purposeful voices. Among them was neither General Ryker nor the jumper.
“What happens now?” I whispered to Quin.
“There’s a boat waiting for them. Someone unties and unclips them, and a doctor takes their vital signs. It’s supposed to tell them how well the Emovere is working.”
Quin had obviously done this before, probably many times. I shuddered, imagining him stepping off the bridge into nothing.
After several slamming doors, the engines roared to life again, but remained idling.
“General Ryker, I’m sorry, sir. Please, sir.” It was the jumper’s voice, Greenhorn 558.
Once again, I lifted my head, peering out at them. General Ryker was conferencing with another man, purposefully ignoring his recruit. Though the jumper was too far away for me to see his expression, his shoulders were slumped and his head lowered. In silence, General Ryker walked over to Greenhorn 558. He calmly swung his feet over the ledge so that he was standing alongside him.
“Greenhorn 558, this is your third failure to complete the jump test. You are dismissed from the Guardian Force.” There was a harsh finality in his voice.
I tapped Quin, urging him to look, but he shook his head. I knew whatever was coming was bad.
General Ryker turned away for a moment. I hoped he would unclip the jumper, untie his hands, and help him climb back over the railing. But he didn’t. Instead, with all of his strength, he pushed Greenhorn 558 from the bridge. I imagined that he bounced up and down, up and down, up and down, until he was hanging like a spider from a thread.
General Ryker effortlessly scaled the railing and returned to his vehicle, moving with a quiet satisfaction. Once inside the passenger seat, he reached his arm out the window, giving the roof several deliberate taps, signaling their departure.
I sat back down in the booth, exhaling. How long had I been holding my breath? Quin didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. I knew that, like me, he was imagining Greenhorn 558, swinging below us, his hands useless, his eyes likely fixed on the water in a state of despair, knowing better than to hope for a rescue that would never come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I KNOW HIM
AFTER THE MILITARY VEHICLES SPED away, Quin and I emerged cautiously from the booth. I was worried about Max and Elana. It was already 7:30, the sun well over the horizon, and there was no sign of them. Quin approached the bridge’s railing, where Greenhorn 558’s cord was clipped.
“We have to help him,” he said. “They won’t return for at least a week. He’ll be dead by then.” The frankness of Quin’s words told me that Greenhorn 558 wasn’t the first recruit to be pushed from the bridge and left behind.
As Quin began to hoist him, pulling him up hand over hand, I saw Elana’s face. She was running toward the tollbooths, her cheeks flushed. Max followed closely behind her, along with someone else—Carrie.
“Never thought I’d be so glad to see you two,” Max shouted as he approached.
“Can I get a little help here?” Quin asked, struggling to raise the recruit to safety.
Max looked at me quizzically.
“A recruit failed the jump test,” I said, gesturing toward the bridge’s railing.
Max’s eyes opened wide with understanding. With urgency, he ran to Quin’s side and began helping him.
Elana and I embraced. “I see you got my note,” I said to her.
“Brilliant,” she said, showing me the piece of paper where I had written Meet me at sunrise at the place where you almost stepped into the fog.
I turned to Carrie. “What are you doing here?”
Before Carrie could answer, Elana replied. “She saw us leaving and said she wanted to come.”
Carrie nodded. “I’ve already wasted too much time working for one corrupt organization. I couldn’t stand to think I was being used by another.” She smiled. “And I must admit I was hoping that I might get a chance to finally meet your mother.”
I hugged Carrie. “You will,” I said.
Our reunion was short-lived. Over Carrie’s shoulder, I watched Quin stand up suddenly, his face ghost-white.
“You?” he said, looking down, while Max held tight to the recruit’s cord. His voice was filled with venom. “Forget it, Max. Let him go.”
Quin swung a leg over the railing and began walking across the bridge away from us. I could see that his fists were clenched tight.
I ran after him, while Elana and Carrie helped Max heave the recruit back onto the bridge. When I glanced back, there was a fourth person standing with them. It was Greenhorn 558.
“Quin!” Quin continued walking without looking back. Artos ran after him.
“Quin!” I yelled again, louder this time. Still walking, he didn’t even slow his pace.
“Quin, please don’t make me chase you.” He stopped suddenly, stonewalled. Without facing me, he spoke.
“I know him.” Each word pounded with hatred.
“I see you haven’t changed much, McAllister,” I heard the recruit’s voice behind me, approaching. Max, Elana, and Carrie were walking speedily to keep up with him.
I turned to face Greenhorn 558. He was young, probably eighteen or nineteen. His skin was smooth and tanned, offset by his sandy blond hair. It was shaggy as if he had cut it himself. His eyes were blue like the crayon cornflower. Unlike Quin’s, his muscles were thin and wiry. His wrists were rubbed red and raw from the ropes—his black Guardian tattoo a marked contrast. The edges of an arrogant smile played on his lips.
He directed his words toward me, his gaze playful, cocky. Somehow he seemed to know I was one of Quin’s soft spots, and he aimed a poison arrow straight for me.
“This guy was always a real hot head,” he said to me, gesturing with a nod to Quin. “But—help me out here, Quin—how is it that you always manage to have girls chasing after you? A real ladies man, aren’t you?”
Even though it was foolish—I had known Quin for less than a month—the thought of another girl running after him caused me physical pain, like a sucker punch to the stomach.
I watched Quin’s face change, revealing an expression I hadn’t seen before but recognized instantly. It was rage. It flared like a grenade launched from somewhere deep inside him.
Quin turned to the recruit and punched him squarely in the face. Stunned, the recruit took a few wobbly steps back. Blood trickled from his nose.
“Quin!” Elana admonished him.
Quin immediately looked at me. His eyes were fiery, but ashamed.
“Well, then,” the recruit said, holding his hand protectively to his face. “Now that McAllister and I are reacquainted, I guess I should introduce myself.” He extended his hand to me, but I didn’t accept it.
“We did just save your life,” I said harshly. I felt wounded and defensive. “I think a thank you is in order.”
He shrugged, probably embarrassed at my rebuff. “My apologies,” he said. “My name is Edison Van Sant.” He emphasized his last name, pausing afterward to allow time for a reaction. When there was none, he added, “My friends call me Eddie.”
“Humph,” Quin made a noise of contempt.
“This isn’t at all awkward,” Max joked. No one laughed. “How exactly do you two know each other?”
Quin didn’t answer. Typical.
Edison took a step back, safeguarding himself from another meeting with Quin’s fist. “McAllister had a thing for my girlfriend. Too bad he wasn’t exactly her type, him being homeless and all.”
I couldn’t look away from Quin. I anticipated an explosion, but he kept his fury tightly wound inside him, a ball of pure heat.
Quin looked directly at me and no one else.
He spoke slowly, still gritting his teeth. I could see how hard it was for him to contain his boiling indignation. “We were both sixteen. I had just run away here from L.A. and lived in a park across from Edison’s house. That’s how we met.”
Max and Elana looked at each other, their eyes holding a silent conversation. I wanted to touch Quin, but I stayed put, holding my own hands in front of me instead.
Carrie broke the uncomfortable silence. “Shouldn’t we probably head over the bridge now? I mean, don’t they patrol or something?” She glanced nervously at me. I hoped she wasn’t already regretting her decision.
“Carrie’s right,” I said, and we all began walking in silence.
When we reached the halfway point, I turned and looked toward San Francisco one last time, its skyline still a deceptive façade of grandeur. The last time I traversed this bridge, I had said good-bye to my mother. Now retracing that walk, I realized my good-bye was also to the girl I was then. I had changed without knowing it or inviting it.
Max sidled up alongside me, playfully punching my arm.
“So when did this happen?” he asked, his finger a metronome marking time between Quin and me. He grinned his usual, easy-going smirk and, in spite of myself, I smiled back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
HOME
WITHIN FORTY MINUTES, WE WERE in Marin, a city that abutted the Golden Gate. No different from when I left, the streets were nearly deserted. Unemployment was high, and most people returned straight home from work, venturing out only for necessities. It was safer to stay inside—at least that’s what the government wanted us to believe. Though I felt relieved to no longer have to worry about the watchful eyes of the Guardian Force, the wary anticipation of seeing my mother began to work its way into my stomach. I hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed in me.
“Where’s your house, Lex?” Elana asked.
“It’s in Tiburon,” I said. It was nearby, a small and quiet seaside town. “We’re going to need a car,” I added, surveying the sparse parking lots around us.
“One of your specialties—right, McAllister?” Edison couldn’t resist a chance to jab at Quin, if only with his words.
I turned to Quin, and he nodded at me. “Wait here,” he said, jogging down a side street toward a residential neighborhood.
After Quin was out of earshot, Elana turned to me, speaking loud enough for the group to hear her. “Are we letting him come with us?” She gestured toward Edison. “Doesn’t he have a home to go back to?” Everyone’s eyes rested on him.
Edison shrugged. “I’ve been disowned,” he said flatly. “So I guess the short answer is no.”
“If we’re going to let you come with us, then you could at least try to be polite,” Elana said.
Edison gave her a condescending smile. “Whatever you say, Red.” Elana’s face tightened. She rolled her eyes.
“How long since you were recruited by the Guardians?” I asked Edison. I liked him less each time he spoke, but my curiosity wouldn’t be denied.
“A few months,” he answered. “I failed the jump test three times. Bridges and I don’t exactly have the best history.”
Before I could ask my favorite question, Quin returned, driving a newer model jeep. The driver’s side window was broken.
“The keys were locked inside,” he explained.
“Would you like us to start a running tally of your felonies?” Edison asked. Elana and Carrie both turned to him, shooting darts with their eyes.
As we drove, I directed Quin, while Max explained their early morning escape.
“I had to take out a few guards with these babies,” Max joked, displaying his fists. His knuckles were bruised and swollen. “I guess my stepdad taught me something after all.”
“Did anyone follow you?” Quin asked.
“I don’t think so,” Max replied. “Carrie disconnected the emergency alarm, and we went out that way, but I’m sure they’re looking for us by now.”
“Turn here,” I told Quin. “It’s the last house, the one on the cul-de-sac.”
Quin glanced at me. He looked nervous.
“We’re here,” I announced.
On the porch, I reached into one of my mother’s potted plants, long dead, and removed our spare key. I took a deep breath as I turned it in the lock.
“Mom,” I called to her cautiously. I had imagined my homecoming many times, but I never expected to feel apprehensive, like a stranger in my own house. Over a month had passed since I had seen her, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I glanced into the kitchen and the living room. Both were empty and dark. I noticed piles of dishes in the sink and a stack of laundry on the dining room table. Then I felt Elana’s hand on my shoulder.
My mother stood in the foyer, an odd combination of shock, grief, and gratitude on her face. In the days since I had left her, my mother had aged years. Lines had carved themselves around her eyes, which were darkened like bruises underneath. Her hair and clothing were disheveled as if she had been sleeping for days. Tears pooled in her eyes and fell in a steady stream down her face. She choked back a sob.
“Lex, we’ll wait in here.” Elana ushered the group into the living room while Artos settled on the mat inside the doorway.
With trepidation, I walked toward my mother. I felt frightened, overwhelmed by her. I had never seen her this way. Even after my father left, my mother never cried in front of me—well, only once. I had returned home early from school and found her in the bedroom at the computer looking at photos from her wedding album. At the time, she had insisted that her eyes were red from a long night in the laboratory, but I knew better. Still, this unhinged version of my mother was entirely alien.
“I thought you were …” For a moment, the sentence remained unfinished. “Dead.” The word dropped like a boulder from her mouth. My mother took a few steps toward me and touched my face. “He told me you were dead.”
My mother’s arms blanketed me, holding me so tight that I could barely breathe. After a few seconds, I let myself cry … hard. My tears didn’t surprise me, but their strength was unexpected. They seemed to flow from a guttural and hidden place, a place where I had secreted all my sorrows. My mother didn’t let me go for a long time.
When she released me, I asked her, “Who told you I was dead?”
“He wouldn’t tell me his name, only that he was the leader of the Resistance and that anonymity was essential for his protection and mine. He said you had been captured and executed by the Guardians.”
“Augustus Porter,” I told my mother. “That’s his name, and he’s not who he says he is. I think he’s a psychopath like the ones you studied.”
My mother’s eyes opened wide at the term, but she didn’t speak.
“He was going to sell this to the Guardians.” I handed her the flash drive. She put it in her pocket and shook her head.
“I should have been more careful,” she admitted. “I should have told you everything. If the Guardian Force had this, there would be nothing left. Their ability to perfect the super soldier would be limitless.”
I was shocked to hear my mother use the term super soldier. As I had suspected, she had known much more than she had revealed to me.
“What’s on that flash drive?” I asked her.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. Sensing my frustration, she quickly added, “I promise.”
We walked together into the living room where we were met with five anxious faces.
“Mom, these are my friends. Without them, I would be dead.” I introduced them one by one, saving Edison for last. I wasn’t sure I could call him a friend.
Carrie spoke first, her face tense with excitement. “Dr. Knightley, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve been following your work since graduate school. I wanted to tell you that you should be so proud of your daughter. She has certainly inherited your love for learning.”
My mother put her arm around me as my face reddened. When I glanced at her, I saw that her
mask of composure had quickly restored itself. There was no trace of that alien creature with tears in her eyes.
“Let’s all go into the kitchen,” my mother said. “You must be starving.”
Max nodded. “Famished,” he said, grinning at me.
For the next few hours, we sat at the kitchen table and told my mother the story of the last thirty-something days. She and Elana cooked pasta—our typical meal since the government started rationing perishable food—while Max and I did most of the talking. My mother listened intently, asking countless questions. Even after we explained to her that many of the Resistance were former Guardian recruits, her eyes frequently darted to the four tattooed arms resting on her table. Carrie took over at the scientific parts, telling my mother about the increasing strength of Emovere and its lasting effects on the brain, along with the use of Agitor and Substance X. We also discussed our theory that the Guardians were recruiting from trauma survivors. Max, Elana, and Quin all fit the profile.
“What about you, Edison?” my mother asked. “Have you been through something?”
Her directness took Edison by surprise—his response seemed uncharacteristically polite.
“Yes, ma’am. I have.” He didn’t elaborate and, surprisingly, my mother didn’t push him.
I noticed Quin was quieter than usual. When I tried to catch his eyes, he looked away, but I felt him watching me as I spoke. After we ate, my mother turned her attention to Quin.
“Quin, what was your last name again?” He was seated next to me at the table, and I felt his body tense.
“McAllister.” His voice sounded like a young boy’s.
“Hmm …” My mother was thinking. “That name … it sounds awfully familiar. Where are you from?”
Max and I made eye contact across the table, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Mom, it’s been a long day,” I interjected before Quin could answer or, more likely, not answer. “Try not to interrogate everyone.”
“It’s okay, Lex. I have to tell her sometime,” Quin said reluctantly.
“Tell me what?” My mother was curious, as always.
