Fallen Firsts (Rebel Thirds Book 3)

by Jillian Torassa

  I looked at Meghan, and she shrugged discreetly. Mata hadn’t betrayed us yet, at least as far as we knew. After discussing it thoroughly, we both decided we couldn’t do this alone, and as long as Mata didn’t name either of us as traitors, her help would be welcome, whether or not it was directly related to what we were actually trying to accomplish.

  “I agree with Mata,” I said, pulling my gaze away from Meghan. “Galilea, you need to step down. They’ll be watching you, which means they won’t be watching me.”

  She snorted. “Then you have to actually try to find that hawking video.”

  I had to take a deep breath. “I am trying. There are literally thousands of computers across the Ten Colonies with at least 50 in Liminis alone. Considering the fact that they don’t have a central database—”

  “Oh, boo.” She waved me away. “Don’t bore me with your technical talk. Just find the damn video.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Meghan put her hand on my knee.

  “With everything that is going on”—Mata interjected—“the lockdown, the whispers, the rebels, the doubts—it makes sense that the Doctors would bury that information as deeply as possible. But we’ll find it, Galilea. We will.”

  “You better,” she growled, getting to her feet. “Or else I’ll tell them where I got all my information from. If I can’t get what I want, I’m bringing you all down with me.”

  She pointed dramatically at each of us before turning on her heel and storming into her bedroom.

  I looked at Meghan again, seeing my exasperation reflected in her face.

  “Firsts!” Mata grumbled, throwing her hand up.

  But it wasn’t a threat we could just ignore.

  ---

  The day had arrived.

  “Are you ready?”

  Gideon was pale, but his voice was steady when he answered me. “Yes.”

  “You’re a brave man.”

  “Don’t get all sentimental on me. Just because I agreed to help you doesn’t mean I like you.” But he had a small smile on his face.

  Even though he was about to die.

  “Alright then,” I said, cuffing his hands in front of his body. “By the end of this, they’re going to think I’m the pettiest jackman on the planet.”

  “Not a very competitive title with so few of us left,” he smirked.

  I couldn’t laugh, though. All the nerves that would never betray themselves outside my body were concentrated within, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  Outside his holding room stood two Second guards. They escorted us outside and into the car. Drove us across town. A crowd had already gathered around the new gallows, and Dr. French stood by the steps leading up to it.

  “This is something I would do.” Michael’s voice whispered in my head. “Reckless and stupid, getting the idea from a work of old fiction. Good for you.”

  “If you ever see Jade again,” Gideon leaned over and whispered in my ear while the two guards exited to open our doors, “tell her I’m sorry.”

  I nodded, not sure if I’d be able to respond, even if I had known what to say.

  And then suddenly it was time.

  “Citizens of Liminis, we have gathered here on a joyous occasion.”

  My brained whirred, trying to remember—

  “Gideon Aarons, by the authority given to me by the Ten Colony Council, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging for redemption of your sins. Please step forward.”

  He stepped up from behind me. Met my eye. Nodded almost imperceptibly. I slipped the noose over his head cautiously, hoping no one would notice the extra care I took.

  “Do you have any last words?” I asked him.

  “My only crime was discovering the truth.”

  I quoted along with him in my mind.

  “And I will not rest until every single person in Liminis knows what I know.”

  He would speak from beyond the grave. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but if I had learned anything from my extensive study of history, it was that people respond to fear. And if he was going to be so stubbornly obstinate about not spilling blood, we needed another way to wreak havoc without hurting anyone.

  Dr. French nodded at me.

  I met Gideon’s eye again.

  And then pulled.

  Thud.

  It looked like his neck had broken.

  But my real work had just begun.

  ---

  We had approximately 90 more seconds.

  I looked at Meghan—whose hair fell over her shoulder as she diligently prepared Gideon’s body—exceedingly grateful that she was there with me. Never in my entire life had I felt so stressed. So much rested on my shoulders.

  “Don’t hawk it up,” I heard Michael say.

  But what if I did . . . “hawk” . . . it up? Gideon should have never listened to me. He should have just taken Jade and run for it; it would have been easier that way.

  The thought of Jade caused a prickle to creep over my skin—almost a prickle of fear. She would never forgive me. She might even kill me, because she would never accept what I had decided.

  What we had decided.

  Gideon and I.

  “He’s ready,” Meghan whispered.

  My insides felt like stone.

  “Are you ready?” Her voice was so low I could hardly hear it.

  I shook my head, bringing myself back to her. “No, I’m fine. I mean, yes, I’ll let the others know.” Straightening my shoulders, I walked to the door, took a shuddering breath, and reached for the knob.

  “Hey,” she said behind me. “It’ll be alright.”

  Inhaling and exhaling more steadily this time, I nodded and pushed open the door.

  “Ah, excellent timing,” called Dr. French from the end of the hallway, as soon as I opened the barrier. “We just finished the last of the preparations. Has the political prisoner been prepared?” She was accompanied by two others.

  “Yes,” I told them.

  “Then the cameras await.”

  Her aloof tone sent a surge of annoyance through me, and I had to concentrate on keeping my muscles from twitching.

  Without making eye contact, I let them all push past me into the morgue. Every First, Second, and Third in Liminis had been able to watch the execution, whether live or televised. Now, every First, Second, and Third could watch the burial, though the physical crowd had probably thinned by now.

  After all, that was the whole point of making Gideon an example. The Doctors had agreed to hold a public execution—public and brutal—because the citizens had to know what would happen if they continued to defy the Council.

  Rumors of rebellion continued to trickle in, and the “Council” was scared.

  Besides, Mr. Kraft had demanded to see the body.

  “Is this coffin bigger than normal?” Dr. French said, squinting curiously at the wooden box.

  “No, Dr. French,” I responded, keeping my breath disciplined. “It’s standard size.”

  “Hm.”

  She studied the coffin for a few moments more, and I started to feel dizzy. I looked at Meghan, but she was staring, pale-faced, at the floor. The seconds almost seemed to stretch until I was sure that she knew everything. Knew about my mutiny. Knew that Meghan and I were still together. Knew that Gideon was meant to come back from the grave to strip her of her power—

  She nodded curtly to her two companions. “Close the lid and let’s get on with it,” she barked.

  I let the sigh of relief escape slowly through my nose, and like loyal dogs, the other two Doctors obeyed.

  Darkness had fallen, but four or five giant lights had been erected to illuminate the gaping hole that would soon swallow Gideon’s coffin—the graveyard outside the Docs’ office. The crowd had dissipated, and only a few people remained to witness the burial.

  “And look at that,” Dr. French said in a low, annoyed voice. “Mr. Kraft isn’t even here, after all
that fuss he made about needing to see the body for himself . . .”

  Clouds of bugs danced around the artificial bulbs high in the night sky, and I kept my gaze heavenward. Mr. Kraft was the reason I had to spend as much time as possible conditioning Gideon. Without his insistence on a public burial, too, we wouldn’t have been so pressed for time. Gideon could have—

  Guilt bubbled in my stomach. I wasn’t used to letting feelings like that roam freely in my thoughts.

  Before Dr. French addressed the crowd, she spoke quietly to our small cluster of Doctors. “Hopefully our . . . struggles . . . will disappear when this impudent agitator is in the ground.”

  I mumbled my agreement with the others, knowing full well that Gideon was far from finished stirring up trouble.

  If all went according to plan, anyway.

  She cleared her throat and turned to the cameras. “Less than an hour ago,” she began, speaking with practiced precision, “you witnessed the death of Gideon Aarons. While the Ten Colony Council grieves the loss of any of its citizens—especially those worthy Seconds who use their limited Knowledge to keep Thirds from destroying us all—the Council’s condemnation of this criminal was necessary in order to preserve our way of life. Adam, the Father of all Thirds, damned mankind when he partook of the fruit of Knowledge. We must do everything we can to ensure the world—our world—is not destroyed again.”

  The evening chorus of insects chirped as she stepped aside.

  Her two companions wheeled Gideon forward, and the Second holding the large video recorder stepped up while they opened the lid.

  The large screen that was erected in the middle of town in order for Thirds to watch mandatory Council announcements stood in front of me. Ten feet tall, Gideon’s pale, grey face filled the display.

  “Gideon Aaron’s body will rest here for eternity,” Dr. French continued, “but it shall not rest in peace.”

  The lid to his coffin slammed shut with an ominous click that almost made me jump.

  “Lower the body.”

  Though the process took merely minutes, they were the longest of my life. The gears of the machine that lowered the coffin into the ground creaked gloomily, and the first hallow thud of dirt hitting the wooden lid made my spine tighten, pulling me into a straighter standing position with a shiver. Each subsequent thud was just as bad.

  While Gideon’s body was covered in heavy, crushing earth, the few people who had been present left for more enjoyable evening activities, until, when the last clod of dirt fell in place, we were the only ones left.

  “It is done,” Dr. French said, still speaking to the camera. “Now forget this man and live.”

  But it wasn’t finished for Meghan and me. There was still much we needed to do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jade

  I don’t know how long I knelt there, staring in disbelief at the television, which had gone back to airing mindless First programming. What appeared to be a vortex of sparkles blurred before my unfocused eyes, and it wasn’t until a drop of cold hair dye fell down my neck that I shivered back into the present.

  Gideon is dead.

  My brain hadn’t formed the words yet, and the short sentence plummeted into the pit of my stomach like a boulder.

  I had to get out of here. I had to see it for myself. Until I saw his stiff, cold corpse, I wouldn’t accept it. Gideon was still alive. He was waiting in a prison cell for me to rescue him, and I wouldn’t fail to do so.

  Springing to my feet, I sprinted back into Walter’s old bathroom and yanked the nozzle that turned on the shower. I didn’t wait for it to warm up, nor did I completely undress. Still in my underclothes, I jumped under the freezing stream and rinsed the excess dye from my hair.

  I have to get to Gideon.

  Gideon is waiting for me.

  I have to get to Gideon.

  Impatiently I combed my fingers through my hair, which still felt too long under the pressing circumstances. The water streaming down the drain was still dark and didn’t seem to be clearing at all.

  I don’t have time for this.

  I reached down to turn the water off but then froze.

  Someone else was in the house.

  How long had I been there? Though I had lost all sense of time, it wasn’t possible that Walter was home yet.

  Was it?

  My heart beat so fast that I felt unsteady on my feet.

  Those were definitely footsteps.

  And then a roar.

  “What the hawk did you do to my couch, Third?” Walter’s voice bellowed through the walls.

  Ripping back the plastic shower curtain, I snatched my stolen clothes off the dusty bathroom floor and ran for it. The bedroom at the front of the house had a window that was big enough for me to slip through. It was my only hope. I wrenched open the door just as he appeared in the doorway of the forbidden wing.

  “What the hell?”

  His cheeks were so red, he might have been on fire, and his arm was still in a sling from when I had shot him in the shoulder, but that was all I noticed before I slammed the door in his face and sprinted for the window.

  It was a small room though, and his legs were longer than mine. He slammed down the barrier and crossed to me before I could lift the glass pane.

  “Who the hawk are you?” Wrapping his good arm around my waist, he yanked me backward and tossed me to the floor.

  He spun around, heaving with fury, but I was already on my feet again.

  “That’s good, new girl.” Sweat poured down Serge’s forehead as he dropped his hands to his thighs and panted heavily. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I lunged forward and slammed my fist against his jaw.

  He reeled, but I didn’t give him the chance to recover. I jabbed him in the nose with my left fist before hooking my right around and socking him hard in the cheek. His face pivoted with the force of my blow, but he grabbed my arm as I tried to hit him again.

  I ripped it up and out of his grip, dropping lower and hitting him in the stomach. He gasped, doubling over, so I grabbed his shoulders and kneed him in the jackman. With a groan, he dropped to his knees and leaned forward. I elbowed him in the back of the head and kicked him to the floor.

  Rolling from his stomach to his back, he held his good arm in front of his face, but I didn’t stop. More than a year’s worth of hate, hardship, fear, and failure drove my knuckles over and over again into his nose, cheek bones, and eyes as I sat right on top of him, blood now covering my fists and his face.

  “Wait—” he wheezed. “Wait—Martha?”

  My eyes fluttered open and our gazes locked for just a moment.

  His grip loosened, and his voice dropped. “Martha?” he whispered.

  I gasped and stared into his face. Martha? Who was Martha?

  He glared down at me with his grey eyes. “Who . . . what—?”

  Shaken, my trembling muscles gave up on me, and I slumped to the ground. He let me fall, stepping backward.

  “Martha?”

  I rolled over onto my side and curled up into a ball at his feet, my back pressed against the wall. Squeezing my lids shut, I managed to keep the tears dammed, but I couldn’t control the shaking. Was he letting me go?

  I stared at him, my hands still held at the ready. Our eyes locked. Grey and already bruising, they searched my face. And then his look grew ugly.

  “You,” he snarled.

  “Me,” I jeered.

  Before he could move, I sent a blow into his chest and threw my other hand at his neck, chopping him into unconsciousness.

  His head crumpled limply to the carpet, blood oozing from his nose, and I breathed heavily. My legs were on either side of his body, my arms ready to defend if he happened to wake up, but he was out cold.

  I was stronger than I used to be.

  And now he was at my mercy.

  I could kill him. A well-aimed blow to his temple or to just the right spot on his neck would finish him, and the world w
ould never be darkened by his hateful presence again. I could do it. I could kill him.

  She was completely gorgeous, like a fairy or a princess or a movie star. Her voice was gentle, like a river washing over a rough boulder, as she sang and rocked me. My eyes fluttered open and closed. I wanted to keep looking at her, but it was so peaceful and warm, and I couldn’t stay awake.

  I blinked, lowering my fists a fraction of an inch.

  “No one’s here,” I whispered, as Gideon brushed past me to close the door.

  “Nah, really?” he said sarcastically.

  “Excuse me?” I turned to frown at him.

  His arm bumped mine as he pushed deeper into Xander’s house. “I can’t believe you shot him.”

  If it were Walter crouching over my nearly lifeless form, he wouldn’t hesitate to end me. And who knows what other horrible things he might to do to me after I was dead?

  He was pure evil; I wouldn’t put anything past him.

  “You mean to tell me,” Gideon’s voice was low and tight as he tried to keep his temper under control, “that you’re planning to slaughter hundreds of people just to set up a different form of government?” He had been quiet while Cameron explained their plan to overthrow the Docs, but now he jumped to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. “You can’t build a better world on the bones of murder!”

  My hands dropped to my sides. As much as I hated to admit it, Walter was not the enemy. He was a product of his upbringing, and who knew what he would have been like if the Doctors hadn’t hawked up his world?

  This was their fault.

  All of it.

  Theirs.

  And I wouldn’t rest until Gideon’s death was avenged.

  ---

  Because I wasn’t nearly as good of a person as Gideon, I made sure to break a few of Walter’s prized possession before leaving his house for good.

  I threw a bottle of liquor at the TV. It cracked right down the middle. I flushed all of his spermicides and lubrications down the toilet, and I smashed the weird devices in his bedroom that I was too embarrassed to know the use of. Then I stole his keys, grabbed a handful of decadent cookies that I had never been permitted to taste, and slammed the big yellow front door shut behind me.