by K A Riley
“I know you don’t even realize it yourself, Kress. But in the Cubes, you’ve been the one to nudge us in all the right directions. You’re the one looking out for us, every step of the way. You’re smarter than Rain and stronger than Terk, and you don’t even know it. I think that’s why I…did what I did in the sim. I think I wanted you to know that I see you in ways you might not even see yourself.”
Brohn’s stroking my hand with his thumb now. A brief, forbidden moment of intimacy.
“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating.
“You know,” he says, “you can lead a group of people just as well from the back as you can from the front.”
“I guess that makes us the bookends of our little Conspiracy, then, doesn’t it?” I ask with an awkward smile.
Brohn gives my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I guess it does,” he says with a soft, pleasant laugh before putting his fingers under my chin and lifting it, just like he did in the VR-sim.
“Hey,” he all but whispers, leaning closer.
“Hmm?” I reply, too stunned to form proper words.
“If we ever get out of here in one piece…”
“Yes?”
“Would you go out on a date with me?”
The biggest smile in the world spreads its way over my mouth. “Yes,” I tell him. “I definitely would.”
He presses his lips to mine just long enough for my head to swim, then pulls away and rises to his feet. “I’ll see you around then, Kress,” he says, his voice filled with a hidden meaning that does strange and wonderful things to my chest.
“See you around, Brohn.”
Without another word, he heads back into the Dormitory to re-join Rain.
I stay at the table for a minute, enjoying the rare opportunity to be alone with my thoughts. We’ve all been together for so long, I can’t remember the last time I sat anywhere by myself. It’s a lonely feeling, but kind of a nice one as well. I’m feeling rejuvenated, re-centered. What just happened with Brohn is almost enough to make me forget we’re still in this place, locked far away from any world we’ve ever known.
But there’s one thing I can’t get past: Granden. What did he mean up in the Agora? What danger could we possibly be in? I think about it for a while, but I keep circling back to the same conclusion: Other than a few injuries, which we can easily chalk up to simple and expected training mishaps, we’ve hardly been in grave danger. Sure, we nearly passed out from the treadmill and water challenges. The yellow smoke in the last Escape Room made us sick, but there’s no indication it would have killed us. And we died a thousand times in the VR-sim but didn’t suffer so much as a scratch in the real world. If they wanted to seriously hurt us, they could have done so a million times. Given the choice between a few little risks in the Processor and certain death out there in the world…well, that’s an easy one.
But then there’s Terk. Like Brohn said, what happened to him should never have happened in a million years. It wasn’t just some accident. That box was deliberately rigged to hurt anyone who made a mistake.
Through the doorway, I see Cardyn sit up on his cot, and I gesture for him to come in and join me. The alone time has been nice. The few minutes with Brohn even nicer. But right now, I need my best friend.
Cardyn staggers in, bleary-eyed but smiling.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask.
“It’s times like this I wish I was more like Amaranthine. She’s passed out and snoring on the floor in the Shower Room.” He laughs and asks me how I’m doing.
“I’ve got more on my mind right now than I’d like,” I admit.
Cardyn slides in next to me, right where Brohn was sitting just a couple minutes before. He leans down toward the table and drops his head down onto his crossed arms. “Tell me about it,” he says. His voice is muffled.
I stare out at the far wall, thoughts churning in my mind. “Granden said something about being in danger,” I tell him. “Does that strike you as weird?”
“Granden’s a strange guy,” Cardyn mumbles. “Something about him…”
I nod. “Do you think the Order has finally found this place? Hiller did say they were gearing up for some final assault. What if this is it? What if Granden knows there’s about to be an attack?”
He sits up to face me, and I pull my eyes to his. “Well,” he says, his forehead wrinkled in thought, “it would explain why they seem to be in such a hurry to complete our training.”
“We should tell the others,” I say. “They deserve to know. If tomorrow’s going to be our last…”
I choke on the final words, realizing that despite everything that’s happened, I’ve never actually been afraid of dying. I’ve survived drone attacks and so much loss. But now, with the realization that the end could be so close, I feel strangely disconnected.
“Listen,” Cardyn says, gesturing back into the Dormitory with his thumb. “They’re mostly asleep, which we should be, too. Why don’t we wait and see how things go in the morning? No sense sending everyone into a panic after what we’ve just been through in the sim.”
We share a long look, and I finally nod and look away. “You’re right. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
Card stands up and reaches out a hand to help me up as well. He guides me up from the bench, and for a second, we’re standing face to face, just looking into each other’s eyes. We smile at the same time, but my smile quickly fades. For a second, I consider telling him about Brohn, that something’s happened between us. If what the other girls said was true—if Card likes me as more than a friend—the news could hurt him. And the thought of it makes me feel terrible.
“Come on, you two!” Rain’s voice calls out. “Big day tomorrow.”
Whatever conversation we were about to have disappears from my mind, and we pad along into the Dormitory for some much-needed rest.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but when I open my eyes, I’m outside, up in the Agora. It’s a strange sensation. I’ve never seen the Agora in the dark before. We spend every day out here or in one of the Cubes and every night in the Silo. The air is warmer than I would have suspected. Even though we still get huge temperature fluctuations during the day, I’m used to nights being cooler. Back in the Valta, nights were bathed in moonlight and frosty dew. Here, the air is dry. The grass is crisp under my feet. The turrets in front of each Cube are empty. I guess they don’t keep them manned at night. We’re supposed to be locked away in the Silo until morning, so they don’t have to worry about us. As we already discovered the hard way, there’s no way in or out of the Silo once the Capsules descend. I guess the guards must be on patrol at the outer perimeter, on the lookout for attacks by the Eastern Order.
With my head down, I jog across the expansive Agora until I reach the base of the Zeta Cube, the sixth building in the octagonal arrangement. I open the gate. Hop the fence on one side, and land in a walkway running between the Zeta and Eta Cubes. I sprint down the dark, tree-lined space between the two buildings, stopping for a quick second here or there to lean up against one of the two cold black buildings to catch my breath. Instinctively, I run in a random zigzag pattern rather than a straight line down the alleyway until I reach another fence out back. This one looks like it runs around the entire Processor, encircling all eight buildings and separating the facility from the scorched earth and woods beyond. A small red light flickers at the base of each fence-post. Electrified. But there’s a spot about twenty feet down where the light is blacked out, dead. A flaw. A weakness. I tap the toe of my boot against the fence where the chain-links sag by a gap near the post. Nothing.
Bracing myself for a shock of electricity to blast through my body, I reach out and tap the fence with the back of my hand. Nothing. Dropping down to one knee, I peel back the section of fence and slither through the opening.
I make my way through the woods and hike for about ten minutes until I reach the edge of a clearing. Hearing the sound of voices, I duck behind a fallen tree and tuck myself against its c
old, rough surface. A cluster of spindly branches form a protective little nook around me. With my back to the trunk of the tree, I strain to hear what the voices are saying. Although they’re close enough and loud enough, I can’t make out the actual words. It’s three men talking, from what I can tell. But it’s like they’re speaking in some foreign, guttural-sounding language. Dropping down onto my stomach, I crawl along the length of the tree until I reach its end. Its root system is half-exposed, which provides me with perfect cover as I peer out through the gloom and into the clearing.
To my shock, I see ten young and three young men, all about my age from the looks of it, lined up on a platform illuminated by three dim lights on thin metal posts. They’re on their knees, chained together at the neck with their hands bound behind their backs. They’re trying to scream and thrash around, but they’re locked up too tight and muffled by metal rods in their mouths.
Through the thicket of twisted black roots and branches in front of me, I can just make out the silhouettes of the three men whose voices I heard. The light hits the face of one of the men to reveal jagged scars running down his cheeks. The man, who I recognize with a shock is Trench, raises his rifle in the direction of the thirteen chained and gagged teenagers on the raised platform. Their eyes are wide and filled with tears. They try to scream again, but nothing comes out.
The only sound in the clearing of the dead forest is the muted zing of bullets through the air as Trench shoots each of the thirteen kids, one by one, with meticulous precision, in the center of the forehead. The dead teens slump in their restraints. Blood flows down their faces and necks and soaks their tattered clothes.
I wake up with Brohn and Rain standing on one side of my cot with Karmine, Kella, and Cardyn on the other. Manthy is still asleep under her blanket in the Shower Room.
I’m shaking and have my own blanket gripped tight in my clenched and sweaty fists. My face is wet like I’ve been crying in my sleep.
Trembling, I explain what I saw in as much detail as I can remember.
“Just a dream,” Brohn says. “It was just a dream.” He sits down next to me and puts a reassuring hand on my back as if he’s trying to prove that I’m awake and that his touch is real.
I nod. The memory still burns in my brain as bright as a family holo-portrait. Only there are black ridges around the edges that I realize are feathers. One other thing occurs to me as the images of the forest, the dead people, and the black tips of Render’s wings begin a slow fade from my mind’s eye: each of the assassinated teenagers was wearing a black, bird-shaped insignia pinned to the lapel of their blood-soaked jackets. I look down at my arm. I can feel my implants pulsing in a way they’ve never done before. “I didn’t activate it, but somehow I’m connected,” I say to Brohn. “I’m not sure if what I saw…I mean, I’m not a hundred-percent sure what I saw was just a dream.”
22
“The time table’s been stepped up,” Granden informs us as we step out into the Agora. “Your deployment assignments are in.” He seems stressed, nervous. But I don’t have time to process what’s got him on edge or ask him about his weird warning from the night before.
He guides the seven of us down from the Capsule Pads to the lush grass of the Agora. Hands in front of our faces, we blink our eyes against the unusually bright morning sun. We’re used to the odd climate fluctuations, but this is one of the few times the sunlight has beamed down bright and white instead of tinted with red. For a second, it reminds me of the crisp light of the Valta.
In front of us, Hiller is standing up on a small stage with her hands gripping the edges of a slick white podium. Facing her is a semi-circle of eight metal-framed folding chairs. Trench stands next to Hiller, grimacing down at us but otherwise relatively at ease.
It’s a strange little makeshift set-up, but I have to admit that I’m finding it all oddly pleasing. Having heard stories from Micah about school graduation ceremonies, I never thought I’d actually be part of one myself. It’s not exactly how I pictured it. I imagined an auditorium full of cheering peers and proud parents. There would be streamers and colorful banners hanging from the rafters, and there would be music playing.
I never thought I’d be graduating from a military training program on a big outdoor field in the middle of eight square buildings, with a massive silver ring rotating lazily overhead. But beggars can’t be choosers, as Dad used to say.
Granden guides us to our seats and walks up to join Hiller and Trench on the improvised stage. Cardyn and I exchange a glance, and he gives me a half-smile. On my other side, Brohn is sitting with his arms folded tight against his chest and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. Ever since Terk’s injury, the sight of Hiller and the others sets him into an instant rage. It’s not surprising. Terk suffered a horrible trauma. And Brohn takes any affront to one of us as an affront to all of us.
I know every one of us blames ourselves, but we also blame the whole, twisted training system. Brohn seems like he’s going through something different, though. He and Terk were pretty close. They were the strong ones back in the Valta, yet they never competed or seemed to get in each other’s way. While Karmine was always competitive with Brohn, Terk just seemed to relax into his role and take everything in stride. I think Brohn appreciated that about him, and now I get the sense that he feels betrayed.
Like he’s lost a true friend instead of just a handy sidekick.
I get that. On the other hand, we’ve been told Terk will be fine, and I have to believe it for the sake of my own sanity.
Besides, this is our big day. It’s what we’ve been working toward and training for over the course of about three months. So I understand Brohn’s gloominess—I even share it, to a point. I’ve got my own swarm of stomach butterflies. Is it because I’m not sure where my spot in the rankings will land me? Is it the prospect of being sent off to war?
Or is it really the looming, inescapable presence of the empty chair where Terk should be?
I give my head a little shake before I drive myself insane. At the same time, Hiller stands regally on the dais with her chin up and her shoulders slightly back. She scans all of us and gives us little smiles and nods along the way. She clears her throat like she’s about to address a million people instead of just us seven.
“I’m proud to announce that this is now officially the most gifted group of Recruits to ever come through a Processor,” she says. “In your time here, you have demonstrated talents, abilities, and resourcefulness far beyond that of your peers. We set the bar high, and you cleared it each time. We pushed you, and you never stumbled. We tested you, and you never—well, rarely—failed. We know that you will not fail us now as you lead our nation to victory over the Eastern Order. We know you will not fail us as you restore to us what is rightfully ours: our land, our government, and our freedom. We are asking a lot. But you have shown that you have a lot to offer. When you leave here tomorrow, you will be transported to your locations throughout the nation where you will be stationed and where you can best support our cause.”
Did she say “tomorrow”?
I’m hardly ready for the rest of today, let alone the thought of being plunged into war tomorrow.
Hiller clears her throat and gives Trench a sideways glance. “We received important declassified information just this morning that the Order may have made a critical miscalculation in their planned final assault. This gives us a small window where we have a chance to turn the tide of this horrible war once and for all and achieve the victory and the peace that has eluded us for so long. Every war comes down to one battle. Every battle comes down to a large community of dedicated people. And every community comes down to a few individuals who stand out for their talents and who stand up for what’s right. I’m proud to stand before seven of those individuals here today.”
“There should be eight of us here,” Brohn growls up at Hiller. She stammers for a second, shocked at having been so unceremoniously interrupted. Trench ta
kes a half-step forward, his hand going for his gun, but Granden puts his hand out to stop him.
Hiller tries again. “So proud—”
“Where’s Terk?” Brohn asks through a menacing scowl. He stands up and points at the empty seat at the end of the semi-circle of chairs and then out toward the Eta Cube. “You said he’d be back with us by today, right? And now you want to send us out there, and we haven’t even had a chance to say…”
I know Brohn was about to say “goodbye,” but he chokes on the word.
Hiller gives Trench and Granden a shake of her head and an I’ve-got-this-covered look. “I appreciate your concern, Brohn. We all do. I assure you, Terk is just finishing up some rehab training. We thought he might even make it to the ceremony this morning. But there were some last-minute tests he needed to undergo. I’m happy to report that everything went very well. He should be ready to re-join you first thing tomorrow before you leave for your assignments.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t worry,” Hiller laughs. “We want him back with you just as much as you do. But it doesn’t make sense to rush it. We want him back but at one-hundred percent. We need him back at one-hundred percent.”
Emboldened but still a bit nervous—after all, I don’t feel like getting shot—I stand up next to Brohn. “Can we see him at least?” Around the curved row of chairs, the others stand up as well, even Amaranthine way down at the end.
“Sure,” Hiller says after what I think is way too long a pause. “We can arrange that. After our little ceremony here, I’ll contact the rehab center in the Eta Cube, and we’ll see what we can do. Maybe we can get you to him tonight before you head down for your last night in the Silo. Who knows? If his condition is good enough, maybe he can even join you for this last night. After all, you should all be together one more time, right?” She gives me an unsatisfying wink, but I have no choice but to take her at her word and wait. We all sit down, and Cardyn gives me an approving pat on the shoulder.