by Tracy Lawson
She disappeared back into the depths of the hanging clothes, and when she returned, she was dressed in a hot pink top, jeans, and boots.
She chose a shoulder-length, light-brown wig from a stand and looked in the dressing table mirror as she tucked her ponytail inside.
“See how simple it is? You could go out like that, and no one would know it was you.” He stood beside her. “No one would know it was either of us. When we eventually get out of here we may have to rely on disguises.”
She pulled up her cuff to show the flashing light at her wrist. “The Link will know. I can’t pretend to be someone else, and, honestly, the only person I want to be is me.”
“Don’t pretend for me. Ever. Because I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you, or that I don’t find you intriguing—no matter whether you’re happy or sad, or what you look like, for that matter.” He brushed a strand of the light-brown hair off her cheek. “I’d know you anywhere.”
She took a step back. “Please don’t do that. I can’t have a future with you, even if I decide that’s what I want. I’m Linked. You’re not. I’m in the inner circle, and you’re an outlaw.”
“Whether we have a future together is not going to be decided by a stupid piece of plastic.”
He tossed the glasses on the dressing table, pulled off the wig, and shook out his blond hair.
She eased off her wig and put it back on the stand.
“May I keep these boots?”
“Yeah, sure. Keep whatever you want. But Atari doesn’t need to know we’ve been in here. He’s got secrets, and it won’t hurt to have a few of our own.”
5:43 PM
Quadrant OP-439
Danni looked up from her phone when she heard Jude’s key in the lock. He staggered into the room, one arm wrapped around his torso, and she hurried to his side.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“Just a little dustup with some QM over at the market.” He slumped into a pub chair at the kitchen island, strength apparently sapped. “One of the marshals beat up a woman for having contraband. It was a handful of old coins. Big deal.”
“Let me take a look. Do we need to get you to a hospital?”
“No, I don’t think it’s that bad.”
She reached inside his coat and laid her hands against his ribs, and he flinched. He helped her pull his shirt out of the waistband, and she ran her hands over the fresh bruises that marked his stomach and back, pressing gently here and there. “Can you take a deep breath?”
He tried to comply. “Sort of. You know they’ve closed the university until further notice? Classes aren’t canceled for our safety. They’re canceled because they want to keep us away from each other. They don’t want us to know who’s been arrested. They think we won’t communicate or organize if they isolate us.”
He pulled his shirt back down. “They tried to keep CXD from becoming a thing by ignoring us. Then they tried to force us to stop by using military-style attacks in suburban neighborhoods. They think they can intimidate us. But it’s too late for that now. The CXD network is stronger than they realize.”
“This was bound to happen. They’ve had you in their sights since you gave that speech the day after the university bombing.”
“It’s not about me. In a few weeks, the Essential Services mandate will be lifted and people will be allowed to pull out of the program. ES will be done for, so they’re trying to scare us into believing we’ll starve without them. The OCSD thinks they can stop us from supporting the market by keeping us off campus, but we’ll keep showing up. We’ll keep having meetings, and we’ll take the CXD message farther than they ever thought we could.” His mischievous grin turned into a grimace of pain. “Weren’t they ever young? Don’t they remember outsmarting adults to get away with stuff?”
“Slow down, college boy. You can’t save the world in one day.” She frowned at him. “You should have called me. I would’ve come to get you.”
“I can’t risk throwing suspicion on you because you’re with me. I don’t want you to get in any trouble.”
“You’re the only person in my life who’s ever said that to me.”
“You need different people in your life.”
“I think you’re right.”
His hands slid up her arms and he leaned in. She’d never kissed anyone and wanted it to last.
7:02 AM
Thursday, December 21, 2034
Quadrant DC-001
Pete Sheridan sidestepped through the door to Editing Bay Ten and held the door in place while he examined his primitive security system: a pencil, taped to the door beside the hinge, point touching the floor. The arc drawn by the pencil did not extend beyond its current location. No one had opened the door since his last visit.
The equipment in this particular editing suite was so old it predated the OCSD itself. No one ever used it, and that made it perfect for his purposes. He locked the door and set to work.
Since he’d read the news story declaring the end of the food shortage, PeopleCam had received reports from twenty affiliates in rural and lower-income quadrants who claimed their food shipments had never resumed, and the people there were relying solely on private food distributors for sustenance. The stories had all been rejected and would not be aired.
In the past two days, he’d received dozens of uploads from Resistance fighters who’d videotaped themselves hijacking shipments of Links.
To top it off, the QM reported arrests for possession of contraband coin in fifteen quadrants, all at the new public markets where citizens did business with former black market dealers. There was talk of reinstating the Restriction against private citizens selling food because it had led to people flaunting other Restrictions.
Pete turned on the equipment, loaded the new reports into his archive, and uploaded it to the computer. He keyed in an Internet address that was blocked under the current PeopleNet system and hit Send, feeling as though he might as well have sent a message in a bottle out on the tide.
1:45 PM
Quadrant OP-439
Lara put on her headphones and connected to Mitch’s call on her laptop. She’d decided to delay delivering the intelligence she’d been gathering until she had a chance to talk to him. Maybe there was still hope to bring the Resistance—all of it—together to achieve their mutual goals. “Mitch, I know you believe that full-scale revolution is the only way to go, but wouldn’t it be better to achieve your goals through legitimate channels?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She waited for a chuckle that didn’t come. “A nonviolent revolution of sorts is possible, if we can find enough support within the current government.”
“You sound an awful lot like your husband. Didn’t know you let him feed you your opinions.”
“Stop trying to tick me off. I want the Resistance to succeed. I’ve got the research you requested nearly done.”
“And what’s the verdict?”
“You can guess how the scales tip. The vast majority of our elected officials are scratching each other’s backs in some way, shape, or form. The networks and the kickbacks are mind-boggling—as tangled as last year’s Christmas tree lights. There are few saints among the people in the capital quadrant, and they can’t seem to behave in the nonpolitical areas of their lives either.”
“So there aren’t many worth trying to sway in our direction?”
“That’s not true at all. A handful—junior members, mostly—have decent records and a few scruples. Overall, it’s better than I expected.”
She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “They’ve all had time to do the right thing, and they’ve chosen to wallow around together and feed at the public trough. They’ve shirked their responsibilities and let first Stratford, and now Madalyn, run everything.”
“Tom and Eduardo are in the capital meeting with the president, Chief Garrick, and Senator Renald. Incidentally, Renald’s a good guy. He’s at the top of my list. No s
candals in his background, and he strongly agrees that the OCSD’s powers need to be curtailed and the Restrictions lifted. We should stick together and keep to the plan. We can form alliances with members of Congress who recognize the disparity between the intent and the results of the OCSD’s projects and want to see Madalyn ousted from the directorship. Things can change for the better. Don’t go all Wild West on us. Not now.”
“Lara, your job is to get me the intel, not tell me how to use it. Tom may say nonviolent revolution is the best solution, but I can’t help it if I think he’s decided to quit fighting and look out for his own long-term interests. He wants a cushy spot in the government. Maybe he’s even after Madalyn’s job.”
She bit back an angry retort. The conversation couldn’t end yet. “If we do this right, Madalyn’s job will cease to exist, and the point will be moot.”
“Maybe.”
“And is everything else running smoothly?”
“Seems to be.”
Whatever that means. “Good. Then I’d like to get in touch with my son.”
Mitch grunted. “The less we communicate, the less chance there is of a message being intercepted. It’s imperative to keep the safe house isolated and secret. It’s for Atari’s safety, and Tommy and Careen’s too, now.”
“I never expected to be separated from him for so long. It was impetuous of him to follow Tom in the first place. I understood his desire to help find Careen, but now that she’s been rescued he still can’t leave. He’s sentenced himself to staying there indefinitely.”
“Tommy knows why he’s there. Time for you to cut the apron strings, if you ask me.”
Her redheaded temper flared. “I didn’t. And you haven’t once asked about Jaycee.”
“You said you’d look after her. Are you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Okay then. Good to know.” Mitch disconnected the call.
Lara fumed at Mitch’s lack of concern as she put away the laptop and headset. She could teach him a thing or two about responsible parenting.
Chapter 8
4:09 PM
Quadrant DC-005
Tommy picked up the book he’d been reading for the last few days and settled into the club chair with his feet propped on his desk. He saw Careen give the cover another curious glance. “It was written way back in the 1940s, and it predicted a pretty bleak future in the year 1984, two years before my dad was born. The Link is like something that belongs in Orwell’s world.”
She ran her fingers over the plastic band. “The Link is the solution, not the problem. Madalyn says everyone will get used to it, and it will be a good thing.”
He sighed. “You can’t believe anything Madalyn says.”
“Tommy, please stop pretending you don’t know. Atari does. You’re working with him, so you must know too.”
“Know what?”
“As soon as the system is activated, my Link will tell the QM exactly where I am. So why isn’t Atari worried about my Link giving away the location of a Resistance safe house?”
“Look … it’s a secret, but the Link is never going to work. That’s why.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. He’s not worried because this building belongs to the OCSD, and he works for them. The Link is going to work. Atari’s kept you in the dark, Tommy. I can’t believe you didn’t realize. I figured it out right away.”
She said it with such conviction that he began to wonder if she was right. He protested, “Atari’s Resistance! You know that. We met him before. He was there on our first mission.”
“He might be involved in the Resistance, but he’s really Madalyn’s ally. He’s fooled you all. The Resistance never could have won anyway. The OCSD is too powerful.”
“How can you say that?”
“Oh, Tommy, think about it. The Resistance is disorganized. We weren’t part of it for long, but their plans failed more often than they succeeded. Do you really believe they’re capable of an elaborate kidnapping? I was closely guarded and protected, you know.”
“Yeah, actually I do know. We tried three times to get you out of there before we succeeded.”
“Before the OCSD let you succeed. Like I said, it’s all part of the loyalty test.”
He sighed in frustration. “The only one who’s torturing anyone with loyalty tests around here is you.”
“Just wait. You’ll see.” She took a pencil and one of her own books from the pile on the desk and curled up among the pillows on the bed, facing away from him. They read in the deafening silence. He had trouble concentrating, but she dove in, underlining passages and making notes in the margins, and devoured the short novel in a few hours.
When she finished her book, he tossed her the last bottle of water on the desk as a peace offering. She made no attempt to catch it, and it landed on the bed beside her.
“You should drink that. You’ll get dehydrated. Hungry yet?”
She uncapped the bottle, but shook her head.
“Do you want to watch that movie I told you about?”
She took a few sips. “Maybe later.” She took another book off her stack.
8:40 PM
Quadrant OP-439
“New leads in the investigation reveal that slain marshal Wesley Carraway knew both Tommy Bailey, the son of the purported leader of the Resistance movement against the OCSD, and Careen Catecher, the university student accused of both Lowell Stratford’s murder and the university bombing. In fact, Marshal Carraway had arrested the pair just a few weeks before. They escaped and joined forces with members of the Resistance, who infiltrated the OCSD on the day Lowell Stratford was murdered. Speaking of Careen, why haven’t we heard from her lately, especially on the eve of the Linking? It’s anyone’s guess.”
Jaycee slouched low in her seat, wrapping her hands in their fingerless gloves around her steaming coffee mug. She’d concealed her fiery red hair beneath one of Tommy’s knit caps and gone a little heavy-handed with the eye makeup; her dark jeans and oversized black sweater and coat were nondescript enough. She hoped she didn’t look fifteen; she’d felt much older for some time. The pop-up coffee shop that had moved into an abandoned building near campus had become a popular gathering spot now that there was no student center. Everyone in the place was watching the PeopleCam broadcast, which was underscored by a buzz of conversation. They all seemed to have a theory about what had happened on their campus, no matter how much it varied from the official news reports.
Jaycee trained her ear on a table of kids wearing CXD sweatshirts. One of the guys gestured at the television. “Careen was with the Resistance at the OCSD the day she killed Stratford. So that’s all on Carraway, right? Because he let them escape.”
One of the young women objected. “I don’t believe Careen killed anyone.”
“We can’t trust the QM. Never could, really. I heard that psycho marshal Carraway was obsessed with Careen and Tommy. He arrested them, and they outsmarted him and escaped.”
This was met with a murmur of agreement, and he continued.
“Carraway was at OP-441 during the food riot—and that was in the official QM report on the news. After that uprising, he went looking for Tommy and Careen and found them hiding here, in OP-439.”
Another girl chimed in. “He knew they’d be back eventually, right?”
“Yeah. He lured them into the student center, where he’d laid a trap. Trouble is, his plan backfired, and he was the one who died.”
“So why is the official story almost exactly the opposite?”
“I don’t buy the official story. Careen was all about solving problems without violence. There’s no way she set off the bomb. No way she’d try to kill anyone.”
A broad-shouldered guy in a letterman’s jacket spoke up. “Yeah, but how does Tommy Bailey fit in? I played ball with him in high school. None of us knew that Careen girl he’s with. And Tommy’s the last guy you’d expect to turn criminal.”
“It’s always the last guy you suspect
, though, isn’t it? What if the university bombing was the Resistance, targeting the QM, getting revenge for arresting Tommy? Maybe he’s been Resistance all along, and he’s just a really good actor.”
“He wouldn’t have to be much of an actor to fool you.”
Someone threw a wadded-up napkin across the table.
Jaycee rolled her eyes. None of them had it right. She hoped they’d all be at the CXD meeting tonight so she could set them straight. She’d noticed people going toward the restrooms in the back hallway, one by one; none of them had returned. Unless they were seeing how many people fit in the stalls, they had to be heading for the meeting. She walked back to the restrooms. Empty. She opened a door marked Employees Only and descended the stairs.
She hadn’t been allowed in the Resistance’s inner circle because her father thought she was too young. But she could be part of the CXD movement. The dimly lit basement was slowly filling with people. No one made eye contact with anyone else. As Jaycee raised her cup for another sip, someone clamped a hand on her arm, and she spilled the coffee down her front.
Whoever it was yanked her to her feet and dragged her into an adjacent room. Under the light of a single bulb, Jaycee found herself nose to nose with her cousin.
Danni hissed, “What in the hell are you doing here—and out in public? They’re going to be Linking children, in case you didn’t know.”
“I’m not a child. For your information, I’ve already done a mission for the Resistance.”
“You’re under eighteen, so you’re in danger. I can’t believe Mitch let you out of his sight.”
“He didn’t have much choice. I left home. Came up here with Tom and Lara.”
“And do they know you’re at this meeting?”
“Not exactly.” She glanced away before turning a defiant gaze on Danni. “I snuck out, okay? I want to know more about CXD. And I wanted to talk to you. I need someone to sign papers for me so I can get Wes’s death benefit.”