by Tracy Lawson
Jaycee nodded. “Wes was in love with you, you know.”
Careen seemed confused. “I liked Wes once I got to know him better, but I didn’t have romantic feelings for him. Tommy’s the one I care about.”
“I know. I care about Tommy too. I care about him so much that I hoped … well, I hoped you’d choose Wes.”
“Oh. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Actually, no, it’s not.” She dragged another chunk of concrete away by the rebar sticking out of it.
“Okay.” Careen tried again. “So you’re Linked?”
“Oh, that doesn’t even compare to what I’ve got on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“It’s about our fathers. I guess Tommy’s father too.”
“I don’t understand. Did they know each other?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” She turned to Careen, tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid you’re going to hate me when you know the truth.”
“Why?”
“Because my daddy was responsible for some terrorist attacks that later got blamed on Mr. Bailey. But the worst part”—her chin trembled—“is that he set up the explosion that killed your dad. I’m so sorry for what he did. I hate that he’s a murderer.”
Tears welled up in Careen’s eyes, and she was silent for a moment. “And you think that will change the way I feel about you now?”
Jaycee sniffled and nodded.
“You don’t have to atone for anything. You’re not responsible for what Mitch or anyone else has done.” She hugged the girl. “You’re the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. My mom’s dead, and now the only family I have left is you and the Baileys. I don’t want to lose anyone else I love. For any reason.”
Jaycee swiped at the tear that ran down her dusty cheek. “I swear I’ve cried more in the last month than I have in my whole life.”
Tommy’s voice came out of the darkness. “So … how’s it going out there?”
His words broke the tension, and Jaycee said, “You heard every word, didn’t you?”
“Sorry, but it’s not like I can leave and give you privacy.”
“Yeah, I know. We’re coming.” She climbed over the low wall and Careen followed her. Together they moved a loose chunk of concrete to expose a larger hole. “It’s sort of like when we go caving at home. Only, this is probably more dangerous. There’s always more than one way out of a cave.”
Tommy asked, “Jaycee? What’s the ID number on your Link?”
She read it to him. “What are you doing?”
“The Link program is still open. I’ve been trying to shut the whole thing down. No luck yet, but I want to try something. Okay, Careen, check yours.”
She held her Link next to Jaycee’s. “Hey! Our numbers match.”
“Excellent!”
“So now we’re both Jaycee?”
“The computer thinks so. Atari made it awfully easy to edit the profiles. Since Jaycee’s not a fugitive, I’ll leave it this way.”
Jaycee bit her lip and didn’t say anything about her run-in with Marshal Nelson in OP-439. She crawled into the opening and motioned for Careen to follow.
The passage got wider after a few feet, and they had enough room to stand as they approached the black car. The door was locked.
“Slide me your gun under the car.”
“Too dangerous. A bullet could ricochet.”
“I know that! I’m not going to shoot it. I need it to break the glass.”
Careen reached into her waistband. “We can use mine.”
The 9 mm skidded to a stop by Jaycee’s feet, and she picked it up and took out the magazine. “We can use ’em both. Hit there, near the bottom corner. Tempered glass shatters into pebbles when you break it.”
They both struck the glass several times before it broke. Jaycee used the sleeve of her coveralls to brush away the bits of glass before she reached inside and unlocked the door. Once inside, she could see there was no room to open the door on the other side. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze to get you out. Cover your head.”
It was easier to shatter the already-cracked window, and when the opening was clear, she stuck her head through and he grinned up at her. She took the tablet and handed it back to Careen. “Stand up and we’ll pull you through.”
Together, they helped Tommy worm his way through the window and across the front seat. When he emerged from the car, Careen used the tablet to light their way out. When he’d squeezed past the last slab of concrete into the open, he breathed a sigh of relief and pulled them both into a hug.
“Jaycee, you were amazing. How did you know what to do?”
She reveled in both the praise and the feel of his arms around her. “Wes taught me. He was really good at caving. The rescue stuff is from his QM training.”
“Speaking of the QM—” Tommy pointed at the tablet. “Let’s find out what’s going on before we end up walking into more trouble.”
Jaycee handed it to him. “Looks like the battery’s low.”
He frowned at the screen. “There it is again. The Link program lets me make changes, but it keeps asking for a password. I wonder what it’s for.”
Jaycee said, “Maybe the right password will let us shut it down.”
Careen snorted. “The last thing Atari wants to do is shut it down. We’re nothing more than chess pieces to him.”
Tommy opened another tab and pulled up PeopleNet. They gathered around the screen as he scrolled through the news feed. “Whoa! Check it out. That was some explosion. I wonder if Kevin’s all right?”
Careen asked, “What about Atari?”
“I’m not wasting any time worrying about him.” He looked around. “We’ll never find the van in this mess. Let’s walk to the Capitol. Pete’s there with a PeopleCam crew, and that gives me an idea.”
9:42 PM
Trina sat silently among the 535 members of Congress as the guard who’d called them back to their seats stood at the podium. “I have a message. Hope this will clear up a few things.
“‘You, members of Congress, elected representatives of the people, are responsible for this coup. You’ve brought this on yourselves after years of knuckling under to the oppressive rule of the OCSD while you pretended you cared about what happened to the American people.
“The only things you cared about were your own power and comfort. You cared about getting elected and reelected. You cared about lining your pockets by doing favors for each other.
“You stood by and let the OCSD strip the people’s civil liberties, and you didn’t care. Most of the Restrictions didn’t apply to you, or if they did, you found ways around them. You were still allowed to have a car. You had plenty to eat and sent your kids to great schools and into careers. You counted yourself lucky to be among the elite. You made rules that you claim are to protect our nation’s children, while your own relatives remain exempt from participating.
“Meanwhile, the de facto leader of this administration—and you all know I’m talking about Madalyn Davies—sold the CSD formulas to a terrorist organization. Or so she thought. She was so anxious to make money off her failed program that she didn’t even bother to check out the group. So she ended up selling them to me, one of the leaders of the Resistance.
“You might wonder how she could be stupid enough to sell the formulas to the Resistance? She had no qualms about selling them to terrorists who might use them against us. I know y’all think the Resistance is full of terrorists, but I imagine we’ll have to agree to disagree about that.
“Now don’t give yourself airs about being smarter than Madalyn Davies. Last month you passed a bill into law that had a whole bunch of stuff tacked on. So much, I bet you didn’t read it closely. You didn’t think much about how you were spending other people’s money. How do I know? I know because you voted to appropriate funds for private security officers who would protect the American people. Look around and wave at one of the gentlemen holding you at g
unpoint. Your vote appropriated taxpayer funds for this coup. Seems like you finally took a step in the right direction. Now you’re the ones who are under someone else’s boot heel. How does it feel? Sincerely, The Resistance.’”
Trina heard two people murmuring behind her. The first sounded surprised. “I didn’t vote for this.”
The reply was even more disconcerting. “I don’t think I did, but I can’t be sure. Who has time to look closely at everything we vote on?”
A rumbling boom caught Trina’s attention, and she looked around to see if anyone else had heard it.
Senator Renald whispered, “You’re Resistance, right? Did you know all this was going to happen?”
“No. I had my suspicions that one of the guys was going rogue, but I didn’t expect a coup. Or an explosion. This was supposed to be civilized.” She leaned closer. “I shot him up with diazepam. If these guys try to contact him, they won’t be able to get a coherent response for at least another couple of hours.”
“Nice work. That gives us some time to get organized. Excuse me. I’m going to say hello to an old friend.” Senator Renald stood up and edged past Trina. He put his hands on his head as he approached one of the guards standing at the nearest entrance to the West Hall. Trina couldn’t hear what they said, but after a moment Renald pointed at the one who had read the message.
The guard left and spoke to the leader, who then followed him up the aisle. There was a murmur from the seats as he passed, and when he joined Renald, he shook his hand warmly.
“We’ve been waiting for instructions. Haven’t been able to get ahold of him since this afternoon.”
“Then cut him out of the deal. Work with me, and maybe we can negotiate your way out of this.” Renald looked around the room. “You turned off the cameras, so none of this is being broadcast, right? No one’s allowed to use a phone. This is as much privacy as we’ll ever have. The public saw Trina confront Madalyn, the debate, and the vote before you cut off contact. If we can get everyone in the room on the same page and present a united front, maybe all of us can walk away from this.”
Chapter 35
10:15 PM
Nicole, covered in dust from the blast, clutched her tablet and hurried after Kevin while he ordered one of the guards to check everyone present in the parking lot against the day’s sign-in log, and sent another to direct the emergency vehicles that rumbled onto the scene.
As soon as there was a lull, he turned to her, worry creasing his forehead. “There are at least three people in the building who are unaccounted for. I can’t believe this is happening again.”
She tried to be reassuring. “You couldn’t know someone was going to set off a bomb.”
It’s more than just the bomb. Madalyn’s dead. Garrick’s been shot. I think everyone in Congress has been taken hostage. Can you get the president on the phone? I’m not sure if he’s still in the House chamber or if he made it to the Emergency Operations Center. Why don’t I know the protocol to reach him?” He put out a hand to halt an approaching quadrant marshal and pointed toward a group of people massing at the edge of the parking lot. “Report to the guard with the walkie-talkie for search and rescue duty.”
The marshal towered over him. “You’re under arrest.”
Nicole looked up from her tablet in surprise. Kevin didn’t seem to have heard what the marshal said and responded automatically, “Because I’m in charge now. I’m the acting director of the OCSD.”
Nicole shuddered as Art Severson emerged from the crowd and addressed Kevin, eyes narrowed. “You’re not in charge anymore. You’re a Resistance sympathizer. You helped stage a coup and got the director murdered. I’m taking over, and Marshal Nelson is taking you to jail.”
Nelson reached for his arm, but Kevin pulled away. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a crisis. I’m needed here.”
Severson sneered. “The guards say they had Tommy Bailey and Careen Catecher in custody, but you insisted they be released because they were with you. You helped those kids set the bomb, didn’t you?”
“Absolutely not. I had no idea there was a bomb until ten minutes before it went off.”
“Yeah, right.”
Nelson twisted Kevin’s arm behind his back, and Nicole ran after them as the marshal dragged him away from the scene. “Kevin! I’ll make that call!”
She halted beside Jack Fisher, who had been sitting inside one of the OCSD vans trying to organize the remnants of his files. As they watched Nelson manhandle Kevin into a transport van, Nicole felt a fighting spirit rise within her. “That Severson guy will be a worse director than Madalyn. We can’t stand by and let him take over.”
Jack shook his head. “Now that they know Kevin’s Resistance—”
She raised her chin. “We need him back more than ever.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. “I have Kevin McGraw on the line for the president, please.”
10:25 PM
Tommy turned up his coat collar against the cold rain that had begun to fall. The tablet’s battery was dead, and he put it back in his pocket as he, Careen, and Jaycee picked their way through the debris from the blast. When they got to the road, Jaycee paused to straighten Careen’s wig. “There. That was bugging me.”
The sirens grew louder as they headed toward the Capitol, and people jostled them as they hurried past, some moving in the same direction and others hurrying away. When they had to pause on a corner to let three armored vehicles rumble past, Tommy pushed both girls behind him to block them from the quadrant marshals’ view, though he knew that wouldn’t hide them from the marshals’ scanners. But none of the marshals who passed appeared to be using them.
He avoided the patrol cars that were parked near the plaza in front of the Capitol, and as they came in view of the scene, Jaycee gasped and grabbed his hand. Thousands of people milled about in the darkness, many of them carrying signs. Links blinked like fireflies in a forest as people raised their clenched left fists and chanted. He wasn’t prepared for the sensory overload after spending weeks in virtual isolation at the safe house, and he could only imagine how overwhelming it must seem to her. He craned his neck as he scanned the crowd for the PeopleCam van. It was going to be harder than he’d thought to find Pete Sheridan.
Jaycee’s voice quavered. “How do we know who’s friendly?”
“No idea.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and reached for Careen’s. “Let’s stick together so we don’t get separated.” He spotted the satellite on top of the mobile news unit and led the way into the crowd.
They were deep in a group of people holding pro-Link signs when the crowd surged around him, squeezing him and nearly lifting him off his feet. He tried to pull the girls closer, but Jaycee’s hand slipped from his grasp. She cried out in terror as she was sucked into the roiling sea of bodies, and he dragged Careen with him as he forged a path after Jaycee. He lost sight of her for a moment, and then spotted her rust-colored hair and elbowed his way toward her.
The crowd changed direction, but there was no place to go. The tightly packed bodies crushed the air from his lungs. Careen was pressed against him, her face turned toward the sky as she struggled to breathe. People fell and were lost beneath the surface, and Tommy prayed he and Careen would be able to stay on their feet and that he wouldn’t have to step on anyone.
Small artillery fire whistled as it passed overhead and landed with an explosion that shook the ground and made his ears ring. People screamed all around him, and he would have fallen if the crowd hadn’t been holding him up. A volley of shots rang out in reply. Just when he was starting to believe he and Careen would suffocate, the pressure gave way. He sucked in a deep breath before looking around for Jaycee.
Marshals in riot gear worked their way through the crowd and headed for the Capitol steps. Someone began shooting out of the building, and when the marshals returned fire, some of the protesters who were caught in the middle fell.
On the lawn, a group of about thirty adults held
up their wrists, Links flashing, as they ran screaming toward a squad of marshals. Outnumbered and panicked, the marshals attacked the terrified civilians with their batons and beat them to the ground. Someone sprayed pepper spray and touched off another stampede, in which many people, temporarily blinded, fell and were trampled. Tommy’s eyes watered as the irritant spread on the wind, and tears streamed down Careen’s cheeks as she watched marshals load dozens of people into transport vans. Not all of them were cowed, though. Tommy couldn’t help admiring an older woman who kept kicking open a van’s back door whenever the marshals tried to close it.
Careen swiped at the rain that ran in rivulets down her dirty face as she shouted, “How are we ever going to find Jaycee?”
Her wig was crooked again, and he tugged it back into place. “I don’t know, but I’m not sticking around out here if I can help it. We’re too vulnerable. Let’s keep moving. Maybe we’ll see her.”
Tommy kept firm hold of Careen’s hand as they hurried through the thinning crowd. He could feel his heart pounding in time with the chop-chop-chop of the helicopters that had swooped in and now wheeled overhead. Machine gun tracer bullets streaked across the sky like shooting stars, and the remaining protesters scattered in all directions. The PeopleCam truck was in sight, engine running. They dodged the fleeing people and dashed up to it. Tommy put both hands on the hood to keep the driver from leaving.
Inside, he saw Pete Sheridan do a double take, and then he opened the side door and hollered, “Get in!”
They scrambled into the back, where Jaycee, soaked and muddy and with a fresh gash on her forehead, sat in the director’s chair at the instrument panel.
Careen threw her arms around the girl. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just went along for the ride, and the crowd spit me out pretty close to the van. They got some good video.” She pointed at one of the screens. “Wanna see? I’ve watched it twice.”