Day One

by Kelly deVos

  “I’d like to see General Copeland,” Jay comments.

  “We’re getting there,” Terminus says.

  I walk into the main lab, and the first thing I see is a group of soldiers clad in camo standing around a large television mounted on a steel stand. On the screen, a funeral procession of black limousines with their headlights on crosses the screen.

  And the headline.

  Dr. Maxwell Marshall lies in state in the Capitol rotunda.

  Our little group crowds in behind the soldiers, most of whom turn to stare at me.

  Terminus sucks in a deep breath. “Sorry about your dad, Jinx.”

  More headlines scroll by.

  President Carver: The nation has lost an innovator, a thinker, a warrior.

  “We...we...buried him,” I say, as the screen changes to a coffin draped in a flag. It’s flanked by two marines in full dress uniform. Crowds, all in black, walk around, kept back by black rope and stanchions. “We buried him in Mexico.”

  President Carver: I have lost a great friend.

  Phil, the medic, joins us at the screen. “We think The Opposition sent a team to Puerto Peñasco to retrieve the...”

  The body.

  President Carver: As Maxwell Marshall lived for his country, he died for freedom.

  Mom clearly came up with some kind of a story to explain Dad’s death.

  “He was a hero,” Navarro says.

  The image changes again, this time to old footage of Dad shaking hands with Carver during the war. Dad’s wearing a uniform I’ve never seen, with a bunch of stars and stripes that I don’t recognize. Another reminder that he had this whole life I knew nothing about.

  And now, I’ll probably never know.

  “Yeah,” Toby mutters. “A hero. For The Opposition.”

  His tone turns my skin cold.

  “What are they saying happened to Dr. Doomsday?” MacKenna asked.

  I’m sure The Opposition isn’t going around admitting that Mom killed him.

  Phil catches my gaze. “Assassinated. By The Spark.”

  Right.

  Terminus grabs my shoulder and draws me away from Dad’s state funeral. I notice we’re in a giant part of the cave, easily as large as all the other rooms combined. They’ve shoved desks in between rock formations. All the computers are...well... I don’t know what they are. They’re modern.

  They’re a bunch of custom processors and motherboards that look like they were manufactured in some future facility. They’re housed in glass cases with colored lights pulsing and blinking.

  They’re something new.

  “So,” Terminus says, with an air of forced casualness. “Am I to understand that you’re just strolling around with the access mechanism to the computers of the world’s largest bank in your pocket?”

  I actually wrapped the mini disk carefully in waterproof, signal-proof foil and put it in a side pouch, but that’s probably splitting hairs. “Um. Yeah. I guess.” It occurs to me that this makes me sound really idiotic, so I add, “It’s protected by an OTP that overloads the power supply on the drive and melts the disk if you enter the wrong password.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Terminus says.

  From the look he’s giving me, it’s as if he might expect more. Terminus might be questioning our decision to travel around with the only copy of the key. But making duplicates was a risk. Every copy we made would have increased The Opposition’s chances of recovering one. This key is my only hope of getting my brother back. Ultimately, I didn’t want to do anything that might lessen my bargaining power.

  It’s cool in the cave, and I’m grateful that my clothes have mostly dried. But I still have water in my boots, and they squeak on the concrete floor.

  We’re nearing a long table with one old man sitting behind a laptop. The closer we get, the harder it is to tell how old the man might be. He’s got short, silver hair and weathered tan skin, but has toned, muscular arms that boys my age spend all day in the gym trying to get.

  “General Copeland?” Jay asks, extending his hand.

  The general rises, revealing that he’s a couple inches taller than Jay. A grin spreads over Copeland’s face. “Major Novak? Well, well. Some days I can’t believe that it’s been twenty years since Operation Cedar Hawk. That so much time has gotten away from me. How the hell are you doing, soldier?”

  Jay also smiles. “About as well as you’d expect, sir.”

  Copeland laughs. “About as good as the rest of us, then, eh?” His smile fades. “Ah, but, as we always used to say in the great Third Army, You ain’t beat ’til you admit defeat.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jay nods.

  “No need to stand on ceremony here, friend.” The general sits down and shoves out the chair next to him with his foot. He motions at Jay to take a seat, then turns to me. “Well, well. This is Jinx Marshall. The Jinx Marshall, eh?” he says. His bushy gray eyebrows travel up his lined forehead. “You look awfully animated for a girl who’s supposed to be dead.”

  The rest of us shuffle awkwardly in front of the table while Jay takes the chair next to the general.

  I’m...dead?

  “She doesn’t know,” Terminus tells him.

  Sometimes I feel dead.

  “What are you talking about?” Navarro asks. I wish he wouldn’t scrunch up his forehead. Blood oozes out from under the liquid bandage when he does.

  “Well,” Terminus begins. “You know...uh... Dr. Marshall was...um...”

  General Copeland clears his throat. “Marshall is dead. A fact that Carver evidently decided he could exploit politically back home.” His eyes narrow. “We believe The Opposition also wanted to pave the way for your mother to take a more...active role in their plans.”

  “Your mom is a total badass,” Terminus says with an odd enthusiasm. He sits on top of the table but gets up immediately when Copeland shoots him a disapproving look. “They made her the head of the National Police yesterday and showed her on TV—”

  My blood heats up and my heartbeat races.

  My mom. I usually don’t let myself think about her.

  “The point is,” Copeland interrupts, “they needed to dispense with you and your brother for their plan to work as intended. The Opposition spread the rumor that both of you were killed during the confrontation with The Spark that also killed Marshall.”

  “But...but...my brother...”

  Oh. God. What if something’s happened to Charles?

  The flame of my anger snuffs out.

  But...this can’t be right. “If we were dead, I’d have found some mention of it in the news when I ran a search yesterday. There was nothing about my brother. Or Mom and the National Police. Or Dad for that matter.”

  Which is also...wrong. My father is being given a state funeral. The Opposition must have spent weeks planning it. I should have found some mention of the arrangements.

  Instead, I found nothing.

  “We believe your brother is fine, young lady,” the general says.

  I’m flooded with both relief and confusion. “But then...”

  “The Steel Curtain closed three weeks ago,” Terminus says.

  “The Steel Curtain? That can’t be right.” Jay stares at General Copeland. “That’s supposed to be a rumor.”

  “It’s no rumor,” Copeland says with a growl.

  Suddenly, I’m even colder.

  Mac elbows me. “Care to share your info with the rest of the class?”

  I wrap my arms around myself. “The Steel Curtain is supposed to be a communication suppression system that can prevent people in America from sending or receiving data from outside the country. But it’s not supposed to work.”

  What if it does? That would explain why I couldn’t find out anything about Charles.

  Or Navarro’s parents?<
br />
  “They were trying to develop it during Operation Cedar Hawk,” Jay comments, stroking his stubbly beard. “Command said it was for scenarios where the enemy was exploiting cyber vulnerabilities or hacking critical information systems.”

  Toby frowns. “But it’s a violation of international law. Even I know that. It’s been more than twenty years since they dismantled the Great Firewall of China and all countries in the United Nations signed the Treaty of Katowice.”

  I nod. I had to stay focused. “And the treaty created an internet protocol and broadcast systems that supposedly makes something like the Curtain nearly impossible to implement.”

  Terminus digs into his pocket for another chocolate bar. “Yeah, well, nobody told that to Marshall. He went and made the damn thing.”

  Dad. Perfect.

  That’s why they were having the big funeral. It was a show. A pageant designed to make people feel patriotic about my father’s terrifying work.

  General Copeland stares at the TV screen on the wall.

  I turn to face it and see that the news headline has changed.

  Mexico orders the immediate deportation of all American citizens.

  “If all broadcasts are blocked, what are we watching?” MacKenna asked.

  Terminus shrugs. “I managed to cobble together a way to get a pirated signal. I don’t know how long it’s gonna last though.”

  Toby continues to scowl. “So Carver is going to break international law again?”

  “You can suspend Katowice in times of war,” Jay says in a tone barely above a whisper.

  “War?” Navarro repeats.

  MacKenna plays with the end of her dark ponytail. “We’re not at war.”

  “We will be,” Copeland says.

  The screen flickers and changes again. This time to a shot of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  California announces secession from Union. Delivers notice to White House.

  The old general continues to watch a group of people standing in front of a wooden podium. A man reads off note cards in his hand.

  “We will be,” the general repeats almost absently.

  I don’t know what any of this means to us or what our lives mean in the scale of a conflict that’s been decades in the making.

  I can think of only one thing.

  “Where’s my brother?”

  Dr. Marshall. Dr. Doomsday. We wanted to believe he was for us. The Opposition told the world he was with them. Was he a man who fought for his family? Or a family man who worked for Carver? These are the two sides of the same coin. Whoever wins this war gets to flip it. Sometimes I think that’s why Jinx fights so hard. Why she’s so fierce. If we win, we get to answer once and for all. Who was Maxwell Marshall?

  —MacKENNA NOVAK,

  Letters from the Second Civil War

  MacKENNA

  I don’t know what to pay attention to.

  Where I should put my focus.

  A couple of hours ago Toby was fixing to take off. But he’s still here.

  Jinx still seems like she kinda wants to kill Terminus.

  Navarro probably does have a concussion. He keeps blinking, like he can’t focus his eyes.

  But oh!

  Terminus hooked me up with an e-tablet. A good one. With a decent screen and an e-pencil. No more writing in Doomsday’s crappy paperback book. I make a couple of taps and start a document tab.

  Sources.

  Okay, MacKenna, start covering this story for real now.

  Take that, Mr. Johnson.

  I write General Harlan Copeland and watch as my script transforms into neat, typed letters. I make a few more notes.

  Five-star general. Operation Cedar Hawk. Wanted for treason.

  The general ignores Jinx’s question and turns his attention to my father. “We have a lot to discuss. Why don’t you get your kids settled and we’ll talk more over dinner?”

  Dad opens his mouth to speak, but Jinx talks first.

  “Excuse me. This is my father’s bunker,” Jinx tells him. “I’m in charge now.”

  Oh yes! This is Jinx 2.0. The Jinx that talks back to adults and hacks bank computers and runs around in the jungle all loaded up with guns.

  She’s just like her father.

  Or like her mother.

  Oh. No. Nope. Nope. MacKenna, don’t go thinking things like that.

  “Think so, do you?” the general snaps at her. He waves his hand at the gorgeous cave. “What do you imagine building something like this costs? You think your father paid for it with the money he made teaching computer science three days a week at Arizona State? You think he built this place by himself?”

  Jinx’s face glows red.

  “Sherman said, ‘War is hell.’ Well, I’m the guy you bring in when you need someone to stoke the fire. Wars. I make them. I run them. I win them. You think it’s some kind of happy accident that I’m here, of all places?”

  Copeland pulls his windbreaker down tight and squints. Like he’s thinking of what to say next. “Marshall was a genius, but, young lady, he wasn’t a one-man band. He wasn’t even playing second fiddle.”

  Sometimes I think Jinx really needs to work on her poker face. Sometimes. It’s like she’s a cartoon, and a lightbulb is going off over her head. “It was you. At Goldwater Airfield. You helped us escape.”

  Well. Okay. That is kinda interesting. Back at the airfield, Marshall seemed to have his own little private army. They had guns and tanks and helped us get away from The Opposition. Now we know who those people were and what they thought they were doing.

  LEAD: General Copeland helped my dad escape from Goldwater Airfield.

  Copeland nods. “That was my team.” He points to one of the soldiers watching TV. “Chuck over there took a shot in the gut that missed his kidney by two millimeters. Marshall convinced the people at the top that you’re important to the war effort. I hope, Miss Marshall, for your sake, that he was right.”

  Navarro makes a series of odd faces. “Yeah...but...what? I thought that...weird kid is in charge? You know, the Professor?”

  The old man actually laughs, and this time it’s Terminus who turns red. “You musta hit your head pretty hard, son. The Professor is in charge of talking to the computers and making sure the lights stay on.”

  Jinx clenches her teeth. “Where is my brother?”

  Copeland hesitates again. “We believe he’s being held at AIRSTA North Bend.”

  Dad folds his arms across his chest. “The old coast guard base in Oregon? I thought that whole place was underwater.”

  That’s right. “It is. Anything west of Eugene is flooded. Uninhabitable.”

  Navarro...man...it’s like he’s coming out of a haze. His eyes sharpen. “Maybe it’s not.”

  No. It is. I did a whole report on it in junior high. The temperature increases, wildfires and melting glaciers had all increased sea level by more than five feet. “What are you talking about? They had to rebuild Interstate 5 because of water damage. I did a whole report on the little town called Cannon Beach. It used to be this quaint little place where—”

  “They used to make taffy and build sanctuaries for puffins until a tsunami swallowed the town. Yes. Yes, I read the New York Times too,” Copeland says in an exasperated voice. Here is a guy not used to explaining himself. “A few years ago, however, the government, under the direction of key members of The Opposition, invested in a reclamation system for the area.”

  “Reclamation?” Jinx repeats.

  Copeland waves his hand in a flourish. “Dams, drainage systems, pumping stations. The point was to take back some land from the sea and have an area that the public perceived as off-limits. A perfect place for secret operations.”

  Secret. Operations. I scribble furiously.

  LEAD: The Opposition operates a secret base un
der The Spark’s nose in Oregon.

  Navarro keeps on making a bunch of weird facial expressions. Each one is...

  Guilty.

  He knows something.

  A good journalist always recognizes a source.

  Jinx should be paying attention to this. But she’s scowling at Copeland. “Like what?”

  Copeland chews his lower lip.

  “Why would they take my brother there?” Jinx asks, when Copeland doesn’t answer her first question.

  Dad is lost in his own thoughts, as if all of this information has already occurred to him. “Even if they got that base up and running again, there can’t be more than a few ships and maybe a hundred people stationed there,” he says.

  “How many troops do you need to guard a five-year-old?” Copeland asks.

  “He’s eight!” Jinx tells him with a deeper frown. “And there’s no way you’re getting the key to the bank unless I get my brother.”

  I shift my weight from foot to foot. Jinx is kinda going rogue here, because this wasn’t our plan. We were supposed to use the computers in this place to try the key ourselves. Not hand it over to some warmongering ex-military man.

  Everyone’s for Rosenthal.

  That was supposed to be our plan.

  But after what I’ve been through with Toby, I understand where her head is at.

  Copeland scowls right back at her. “I’m in charge here, and if you do what I tell you, maybe I’ll get you to your brother.”

  My dad clears his throat and runs a hand through his graying hair. “Who are the people at the top? Sir.”

  Maybe it’s the sir that does it, or maybe the general has had his fill of obnoxious kids and, like, wants to talk to an adult. But his expression softens.

  “As I said, we have a lot to discuss.” General Copeland gets up from the table. “Partridge,” he barks. “Take your friends to the barracks and find them bunks. Maybe share a few of those candy bars you’re so fond of. We’ll meet in the mess at 17:00.”

  “Yes, sir,” Terminus answers in a sullen tone.

  Dad stands up too.

  Copeland jerks his head toward a small door behind the table. “There’s something you need to see. Follow me.”