“OK,” Yuki says. “I’m ready.”
Standing makes my head swim. Yuki sees me sway and hurries to put her arm around me. I lean my weight against her. A small surge from her power floats in to join mine. It helps, but only a little. Yuki has never been a strong spinner.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Basement,” I mumble. “The garage.”
We stagger to the stairs. The patrolling guard has made it to the end of the hall, his body half-turned as he makes his way back toward the steps. I grab the handrail, afraid to look down at the distance I might fall. I concentrate on my feet. One step. Two. Time pulls against me, a wild animal struggling to get free. I stop thinking about anything except keeping time under control. We reach the second floor and continue toward the first. Stairs—so many stairs—One, two. The stairway curves below us, bending around the guard station as it heads toward the lobby.
A faint wave from the zapper in Barnard’s office drifts upward as I make the turn. I stumble, clinging to the bannister so I don’t fall. The lights in the lobby burn my eyes. The roof of the guard station is just below us. What exactly did the man witness when I fought off Ross and Jack? Have the accumulated moments between freezes shown him anything else that might expose us? I rub my head. The buzz from the zapper is boring its way into my brain, unpicking the strands from my control, one by one.
“Alex?” Yuki sounds frightened. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to sit.” I drop away from her and collapse onto the stairs. “Just for a minute.” More time strands evaporate from my grasp. “Try to stay quiet.”
Time moves again. I can feel it brushing against me, invisible and insistent. Music from the guard’s radio wafts up to us. It’s a jazz station, the tune jaunty and full of horns. I reach out to grab time back. Nothing happens. My grasp is too insubstantial to close around the rushing strands. I lie back onto the stairs. Yuki stares past me, toward the guard station, her lips open in an O of concern.
“One minute,” I mouth. She doesn’t look reassured.
I squeeze my fingers against my temples. My head feels like a hollowed-out shell filled with nothing but thundering pain. How long will it take the patrolling guard to reach this spot? Will he recognize me or just think Yuki and I are two regular spinners on an out-of-bed jaunt? Will finding us make him check the other rooms? If he does, he’ll see the empty beds. How long after that before they find the truck? I close my eyes and visualize the Center’s network of security cameras, trying to imagine a way Yuki could make it to the basement without the guard seeing her. It seems unlikely. I reach for time again. It’s like trying to grab a waterfall.
The hard edge of the stairs bites my cheek. It smells like dust. Yuki sits down beside me, one hand resting protectively on my shoulder. I want to tell her I’m sorry, but forming the words takes more effort than I can muster. I should have realized I wasn’t strong enough to make it. Then, at least the others could have gone free. I don’t deserve to be saved.
Heavy shoes clunk on the stairwell over my head. The patrolling guard is on his way down. Yuki’s hand curls around my shoulder. With the last of my strength, I reach up and clasp her hand in mine. The guard’s steps grow louder. A few more and he’ll turn the bend and see us. It’s over.
“Tired?”
Warm air brushes against my ear. Yuki shrieks.
I open my eyes. KJ kneels on the stairs at my side, one hand wrapped around mine and one on Yuki’s. The music is gone. Time has stopped.
“KJ!” Yuki throws her arms around his neck. KJ, knocked sideways by the force of her greeting, gives her back an awkward pat. I blink up at him. His cheeks are flushed, like he’s been running. A smudge mars the tip of his nose. When he pants, the tendons in his neck show how gaunt he’s grown.
He has never been more beautiful.
“KJ?” My voice is barely a whisper. “How…?”
KJ holds up his leash-free arm. “Bolt cutters. I remembered there were some in the basement shop.” He rubs the bare spot on his wrist. “It took forever to get there and cut them off. I was sure I’d end up running down the street after the truck. I hope you weren’t too worried.”
I sit up and rub my cheek. The stair left a dent in my flesh.
“Is everyone else gone?” Yuki asks.
KJ shakes his head. “I froze time as soon as I could and ran outside. The kids you rescued are there, and the garage gate is about halfway down. I melted time and waited a few seconds. When you didn’t turn up, I came in to look for you.” He grins at me. “You weren’t hard to find. I nearly tripped over you heading up the stairs.”
“You got here just in time,” Yuki says. “We could hear the guard coming.”
“I couldn’t hold it anymore,” I say. “I failed.”
“Failed?” KJ disentangles himself from Yuki and picks up my hand. “Alex, you saved all but two of the spinners. What you’ve done is beyond amazing.”
Something warm surges through me, filling the crater of my emptiness.
“Simon and Angel are still upstairs,” I say.
“I know.” KJ squeezes my hand. “I’ll get them.”
“OK.” I lean my head against the bannister. “I’ll just wait here.”
“No, you won’t.” KJ slides his arms under my legs and scoops me up against his chest. I would protest if I had even an ounce of strength left. Instead, I curl my head against his shoulder and let him carry me out of the Center.
The back of the truck is packed with frozen spinners, some standing, others sitting on the hard floor. KJ sets me down on the lip of the truck bed. Time starts and he disappears, reappearing seconds later with Simon and Angel and then vanishing again. Conversations erupt behind me. My fogged brain manages to understand only one word in fifty. Someone says my name. Yuki responds with an angry, shushing noise. KJ reappears two more times, laden with armloads of pillows and blankets, which he tosses on the floor. In the next instant, he’s standing in the middle of the mass of people and ordering them all to keep quiet. My backpack, the one I’d left on the sidewalk, rests in my lap.
I drop my head against the side of the truck. Through the cool metal, I hear the garage gate rattle back into place. I twist my head to stare up at the darkened Center, waiting for a light to turn on, or an alarm to scream a warning. Nothing happens. A minute later, Yolly’s sturdy frame hurries down the sidewalk. She gives one anxious glance around the empty street, then veers over to the packed moving van.
KJ jumps out to meet her. Yolly hugs him quickly before hauling herself into the back of the van. A shout goes up when the kids see her. Yolly gazes around the crowded space, pressing a hand against her chest.
“They’re all here?” she whispers.
I let my eyes drift shut again. Voices rise and fall. I hear KJ explaining what will happen next—that he’ll freeze time, Yolly will cut the trackers out of the backs of the kids’ necks while they’re frozen, and then we’ll all drive away. Some of the kids protest, and a few of the Youngers start to cry. When I pay attention again, KJ is sinking down next to me.
“You doing OK?” he asks. His voice is a gentle murmur under the jabbering voices. Yolly is soothing a crying Younger while everyone else claims blankets and pillows so they can settle into the cave-like space. The reality of our imminent departure seems to be sinking in. Kids huddle in groups of twos and threes, talking together and gingerly fingering the small bandages on the backs of their necks where their trackers used to be.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I tell KJ. He pushes a clump of hair behind my ear, and I lean my face into his palm. “You said you couldn’t just do nothing. I was afraid you’d gone to confront Barnard. Demand he give back Shannon.”
“I meant I couldn’t do nothing to help you. I know you.” KJ traces his thumb along the edge of my bottom lip. “You’re so willing to sacrifice yourself. I knew you’d
risk everything to get the others out.”
My whole face tingles in the wake of his touch. A few minutes ago, I’d been sure my life was over, and now, even with my total exhaustion, I feel more alive than I ever have. KJ’s face is inches from mine—perfect, and so, so precious. I wish I could freeze this moment and hold it close to me forever.
KJ bends and brushes his lips against mine.
“I love you, Alex,” he whispers.
I kiss him back.
“I love you, too.”
Yolly stands up in the middle of the truck and waves her hands for quiet. “Everyone set?” she asks.
The kids nod, and Yolly turns to me.
“Where are we going?”
I dig Miguel’s phone number out of my memory and use Yolly’s cell to call him. He answers on the second ring, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Miguel,” I say. “This is Alex. We’ve decided to accept your offer. We have a car. Just tell me where to go.”
Yolly nods as I repeat his directions out loud. They’re simple: drive an hour east on I-84 to the Memaloose Rest Area. Miguel will meet us and take us from there. I hang up.
Yolly climbs from the truck and reaches up for the strap that closes the back. The glance she casts toward the Center’s sleeping walls is nervous, but her hand remains steady as she pulls down the truck’s hatch. A minute later, the engine rumbles to life and we start to move.
I curl against KJ’s shoulder, feeling the hard lump of bone beneath the softness of his skin. The murmurs of twenty other spinners confirm what we’ve accomplished. They’re safe. With every breath they take, the Aclisote will work its way out of their systems, changing their fate. I know I can’t measure my actions on a scale—that I can’t balance one life lost with one saved—but it still feels like I’ve finally gotten something right.
Sleep calls my name, and this time, I let it take me. When I wake up, we will be far away from everything that has been chasing us, away from threat and desperation and fear. Tomorrow our lives will start—real lives—with futures that shimmer with years of possibilities.
Tomorrow, we will be free.
Acknowledgments
I’m going to keep this one short. Vannessa McClelland, Mark McCarron-Fraser, Sonja Thomas, Joe Morreale, and Paul McKlendin critiqued every chapter of this book, sometimes multiple times. More importantly, they provided a community that kept me motivated to continue producing words. Mary Colgan, Rebecca Davis, and Suzy Krogulski at Boyds Mills Press all offered editorial insights, and together they made Unleashed a stronger book. Thank you. Without the support of each of you, this book would never have come to life. Finally, thanks to Sarah Stevenson and all the good people at Innovative Housing, who never complain about my working the kind of flexible schedule other writers only dream about.
CAROLYN O’DOHERTY lives and works in Portland, Oregon, where, most disappointingly, time moves only at a very predictable pace. When not writing, she uses her free time to develop affordable housing. Carolyn earned degrees in both psychology and urban planning, so she figures the best possible use of an expertise in both people and places is to make up entirely new ones. Visit her at carolynodoherty.com.
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