by Tracy Lawson
As far as he could tell from the affiliate reports, there were no quadrants in which the supply of Links was sufficient to meet the demand. But that didn’t mean everyone was on board with the Link program.
A reporter at a station in one of the northernmost quadrants in the Central Plains region interviewed families who, determined to prevent their children from being Linked, had kept them home from school until they could arrange passage to the nearest border. It was no easy task to defy the Travel Restrictions that barred most people from owning cars or traveling away from their home quadrant without permission. One family had traveled for nine days, only to be turned away by the border guards. After years of tense diplomatic relations, the neighboring countries to the north and south refused entry to those trying to flee.
The few remaining flights out of the country were reserved for business and government-related travel.
Pete understood people’s fears for their children. He wished he’d been more proactive about protecting his son. He uploaded the new reports to his video archive and sent an email with a file attachment, even though connections to anything other than PeopleNet were blocked by the Shield, and then placed a call to Mitch.
“Hey. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news this morning.”
“Doesn’t seem to be much going on. But we know that’s not true.”
“I’ve been suspended. I think I went too far with my jokes about Madalyn’s currency problem.”
“Sending her the coins didn’t go off like I’d hoped anyhow. She manages to deflect everything we do to discredit her.”
“I’m still working on the video archive.”
“Good. It’ll be seen someday.”
“Yeah, I hope so.”
9:08 AM
Quadrant OP-439
Jude stirred when Danni snuggled close to his side. The air in the apartment seemed particularly chilly this morning, and when his alarm went off a few minutes later, he had to talk himself into getting up and heading for the shower. He shivered as he dressed in a heavy sweater, jeans, and boots, wishing he could crawl back in and stay with her instead. She was on the phone when he came back into the room, and as he leaned over to kiss her goodbye, and she covered the mouthpiece and smiled up at him lazily.
“Have fun storming the castle.”
“Always.” Jude picked up his scarf and a long overcoat on his way to the door. He was scheduled to take part in the protests at the Distribution Center in neighboring OP-441, and it was a long walk over.
9:20 AM
As soon as Mitch was done talking to Pete, he placed another call.
Danni answered, sounding half asleep. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
It took a few seconds before she responded. He thought he heard someone else’s voice and a door close. “In OP-439. At a friend’s.”
“You with the Baileys?”
“No. I said I was with a friend.”
“All right. I need you to head up to visit Atari. Today.”
She sighed. “You know, Mitch, I’m ready to move on from—”
“For crying out loud, I’m not asking you to throw yourself at him. He won’t take my calls, so I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. Take some supplies to him and then hang around until you make sure he’s on task with the video. I forwarded him most of the raw footage, and I haven’t heard back. I’ll get the last of it to him by tomorrow, and we’re gonna need it in a few days. Not much turnaround time.”
“All right, all right. Anything else?”
“Yes. Make sure he’s not planning to activate the Link. I don’t trust him any further than I can throw him.”
10:27 AM
Quadrant OP-441
From his place on the lawn at the Distribution Center, Jude called, “Ma’am, don’t sentence your daughter to a lifetime of constant surveillance.”
Most of the adults with young children in tow pushed past the protesters and hurried inside. But when the woman who held a little girl by the hand hesitated, the protestors from CXD called out to her.
The woman looked around before answering, to see if she was being watched. “My daughter hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s here for her protection.”
A young woman with a CXD button on her coat collar pleaded, “Who knows what laws they’ll pass in the future? She’ll never be free if she’s got a Link.”
Another young mother, clutching her two children by the hands, darted past them and up the steps before anyone had a chance to talk to her.
The woman who had spoken shook her head and drew her daughter toward the building. The child looked over her shoulder, glossy brown pigtails bouncing, not comprehending what all the fuss was about. Jude locked eyes with her. He needed to save her. He pushed through the crowd and dashed into the Distribution Center.
Large televisions screens in the vestibule played a video message in which a cartoon image of the earth turned on its axis. The perspective zoomed in to a pinpoint somewhere in the southwestern quadrants. “The location of a missing child can be determined in less than five seconds using Link technology.”
A cuddly looking cartoon version of a three-headed dog bounded onto the screen, wearing a red collar with a flashing light and a name tag that read “Cerbie.” The narrator said, “Cerberus protects and guards you, night and day. Good dog, Cerbie!” Cerbie’s three heads barked in response.
Jude, mesmerized by the video, stood motionless in the queue as people edged past him. He watched Cerbie stand guard as fluffy sheep with a range of different wool colors frolicked in a green field dotted with flowers. The underscored music swelled, foreshadowing danger lurking nearby. A wolf waited on the other side of a hill for a lamb to wander close, but one of Cerbie’s three necks stretched out and he grabbed the lamb in his mouth, bringing it back to the safety of the flock. Another lamb fell in a pond and sank, weighted down by is sodden wool coat. While the adult sheep bleated helplessly, Cerbie pulled the lamb safely to shore.
Happy music swelled, and children’s voices rose in song: “Cerbie, the three-headed doggie. Cerbie, he’s our friend! He guards the gates and keeps us safe. Protection never ends!” Cerbie brought food to the flock, spread it before the lambs, and then stood guard while they and the parent-sheep ate.
That had to be one of the creepiest things he’d ever seen. The cartoon image of the friendly Cerberus was inaccurate. Jude had enjoyed reading Greek mythology when they’d studied it in elementary school, and he remembered that Cerberus was the guardian that prevented the dead from leaving the underworld. Though the great dog fawned on people as they entered, he snarled if they tried to leave and would not let them pass. He wondered how many people knew the Cerberus of mythology and not just the convenient retelling being used to promote the Link.
He followed the queue and emerged into a gymnasium-sized room filled with another, longer roped-off line. People shuffled along, bombarded by another video message blaring from the giant screens on all four walls. He craned his neck to look for the little dark-haired girl. A video aimed at the adults was playing on monitors mounted on the walls. Several voices chimed in:
“They’re tired of blowing up buildings. Now they’re coming for your children.”
“Why limit that protection and inclusion to your children, when you can also take advantage of the Cerberean Link?”
“Never miss out on anything that is rightfully yours.”
“If there is another food shortage, your Link assures you won’t be affected.”
“Manage every aspect of your life from one convenient device.”
“The Resistance has launched a war on children. Join in solidarity with the OCSD to protect them.”
Jude’s scalp prickled at the image of a little girl on the video screen. The child, wearing a flashing Link bracelet, clasped a woman’s hand, looked up into the camera and whispered, “Mommy, I want you to be safe too.” The video ended with children raising their left fists, showing their solid
arity and their Links.
He took out his phone and recorded the looping video and sent it in a text to Danni and a few of the others in CXD. When he was done, he took in the rest of the scene. The father in the family at the head of the line was shaking his head, shouting at the distribution worker, but Jude couldn’t hear what he was saying. A security guard hurried over and took the man by the arm, forcing him off to the side as his frightened family followed. It was then he saw the woman with the dark-haired child coming toward him in the next row. He reached across the rope and picked up the little girl. The mother’s eyes darted about. He lowered his voice and tried one more time.
“Let’s get her out of here while you still can.”
“Give my daughter back to me!”
Jude felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He whirled around and found himself face-to-face with a security guard, who took the child away from him and handed her back to her mother. The guard dragged him from the queue and into an empty hallway, where he slammed him up against the wall and zip-tied his hands behind him. He fished Jude’s phone out of his pocket and took him roughly by the elbow.
As they emerged into the cold morning, Jude’s heart sank. Marshals in riot gear had descended on the CXD protesters. He watched as they slapped the sign out of one of the young men’s hands and twisted his arm behind his back. A few of the CXD group tried to run for it, but the counterprotestors surged forward and kept them surrounded until the marshals had them all in custody.
The security guard shoved Jude to the sidewalk, where he sat with his classmates, watching parents arrive with their children. None of them glanced toward the protesters. A siren whoop whooped, and the people picked up the pace as they headed into the building.
One of the marshals hauled Jude to his feet, led him toward a transport van, and shoved him inside. He managed to get a seat on the bench along the wall, and soon the space was filled to capacity. Someone yelled, “Where are you taking us?” and the guard slammed the door in response.
They rode in tense silence, and when the van came to a stop, one of the men who hadn’t been able to fit on the bench seats staggered and fell across Jude’s legs.
The rear door opened and Jude blinked in the bright light. One by one, the occupants were pulled from the van and, hands still zip-tied behind them, were ordered through the double security doors into the processing section of the OP-439 jail.
“ID card.”
“It’s in my wallet.” As Jude struggled to extract it from his back pocket with his hands cinched together, he saw one of the marshals give one young woman’s ID a cursory glance and then cut the zip tie that bound her wrists.
“Our apologies, Miss. You’re free to go.”
She gave Jude a sympathetic glance as she left. He looked around while the marshal examined his ID, and noticed others who had been at the protest were also being released. He wasn’t so lucky. The guard tossed his wallet onto a pile on the desk and shoved him toward another set of doors.
Marshals lined the next hallway and watched the protesters file past. As Jude shuffled by, one of them seemed to recognize him and nodded with satisfaction as he passed. Jude met his gaze.
The man grinned and muttered to the marshal on his right. “Good thing we’ve got enough Links for all of them.”
His voice was familiar. I’m sure I’ve talked to him before. But when?
“Yeah, just barely. Quite a roundup today.”
Jude went cold with dread, wondering if he’d heard right. He was responsible for the fates of the other members of CXD who’d followed his lead. “Wait, what? Did you say Links? I’m twenty-two! I’m past the Linking age. We all are. The Link’s only for kids.”
“It’s for kids and criminals. Makes me downright sick to say those two words together in a sentence, but that’s what our world has come to. You all got arrested. Now you’re getting Linked. Don’t matter if you’re a hundred and two. New policy.”
“We haven’t been charged with anything yet!”
“Don’t matter. We Link everyone we bring in now, first thing. Soon we won’t have anyone left who’s stupid enough to risk breaking the law.”
“Won’t that put you out of a job?”
“Shut up.” The marshal shoved Jude, and he fell against the young woman ahead of him in line. She, in turn, fell against another young man, and as they all struggled to stay on their feet, other arrestees shoved back in self-defense. That was all the provocation the marshals seemed to need. Within seconds, what had been a minor disruption erupted into an unprovoked attack. The marshals rained blows down on the backs and shoulders of the students, who tried to fight their way into the more protected center of the throng. Shouts and cries of pain filled the narrow space.
Jude ducked and managed to avoid the marshals’ batons. He lowered his shoulder and shoved his way through the crowd toward the double doors. Just a few more feet and he’d be in the clear.
He emerged and hit the door at full speed, but it didn’t yield. He slammed his shoulder against it again in a frantic and futile attempt. Something struck his back, and as he turned, he heard the swoosh as the marshal’s baton missed his head by an inch.
He couldn’t stay pinned against the door, so he launched himself at his attacker, driving him backward. The marshal shoved Jude aside, and he fell to his knees, cringing and trying to protect his head against the blows and the kicks that seemed to come from all directions at once. The force of the last one left him prone on the tile floor. As darkness closed over him, he tasted blood.
Chapter 20
1:45 PM
Quadrant DC-005
Careen, clad in one of Tommy’s T-shirts, emerged from the bathroom and studied herself in the full-length mirror next to the bathroom door. He tilted his head to best appreciate the rear view.
She frowned. “I’ll never be me again.”
“You’re the most beautiful—”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious! Who cares about a few scars? I’ve got plenty of ’em too. You’re beautiful and brave and strong and smart, and if you wear nothing but my T-shirts all the time, I swear I’ll never, ever complain.”
She stripped it off and stood in her bra and panties.
“Or that. That’s good too.”
She ignored him and touched her reflection with her fingertips. “The scars don’t bother me.” She drew a sobbing breath and gnawed at the plastic band on her wrist, but it wasn’t long before she stopped in frustration. Her teeth had left no marks. “It’s this stupid Link. I can’t ever get away from it!” She clawed at it with her other hand.
“Try not to obsess.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You think I don’t obsess over it too? You think I don’t wonder what will happen?”
“Maybe someone will blow up the OCSD.”
“Maybe someone will blow up this safe house and you’ll have wasted your last few days on earth worrying.” He caught her by the wrist and kissed the knuckles on her clenched fist. “Come on, get dressed.”
Tommy led the way downstairs to the gym, which boasted an eighth-mile track, weights, and a variety of machines and equipment.
Stacks of shoeboxes rose on shelves against the wall. “Find a pair in your size. Atari keeps it stocked. Just like us, most people who show up here don’t bring luggage or extra clothes.”
He pulled a pair of boxing gloves and some sparring pads out of a bin near a wall of mirrors. “It felt really good when I socked Atari yesterday. So I was thinking it might help you to hit something too.”
A small smile played over her lips as he helped her into the gloves. He slipped the thick pads on his own hands. “Jab, jab, cross. Okay?”
She channeled a lot of what was eating her into the first punch. He’d been expecting it, but still it drove him back a step. She moved into the empty space between them and kept up a steady rhythm until beads of sweat formed on her forehead and upper lip. The tendrils of hair that came loose from her pony
tail clung to her neck.
As she threw punch after punch, her expression of determined concentration melted and she began to laugh, at first just a ha sound when her punches connected with the pads, but the laughter kept coming until it took over. She put her hands on her knees and gasped for breath.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. That was great. I think I broke my pinky.”
Tommy dropped the pads and helped her ease the glove off. The light on her Link was flashing in time with her fast-pumping heart, and her knuckles were red and raw. He supported her hand in his as he examined her finger. “It doesn’t look crooked. It might just be bruised. Let’s tape it to the next one for support.” He found the roll of athletic tape, and when he was done, she flexed her fingers, testing.
“That feels better. Thank you.”
“You were awesome. Had enough for today?”
“No.” Her eyes took in the expansive space. “Wanna do a few laps?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
He started off at an easy pace and she fell in beside him. His injured leg rarely bothered him anymore, but the metal plates and screws were there to repair some serious damage. His mobility and speed had improved a lot in the last five months, but he was never going to be a long-distance runner.
She, on the other hand, moved like a gazelle, effortless and graceful. They ran side by side for about a mile, and when it became clear she was holding back for him, he waved her on and trotted over to the water cooler.
She picked up the pace and ran another mile, ending with a quarter-mile sprint. She backpedaled to a stop and drew a cup of water.
He whistled. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “How?”
“You never said you could run like that.”