Day One

by Kelly deVos

  Toby says, “Yes, ma’am.” He motions for us to follow him.

  Jo goes the same way as Copeland, leaving us to follow my brother, who is walking in the opposite direction and who has a lot of explaining to do.

  OTHER IMPORTANT FACTS:

  -The Spark said it had suspended government research when the New Depression hit. But clearly that wasn’t true.

  -This sub is super high-tech.

  -Whoever designed it really, really liked blue lights. If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to live in a sapphire ring, here you go.

  My doofus brother takes us into this room that’s basically like one of the break rooms on the Booker. White metal lockers line the wall to our left. There are ruggedized, white metal beams overhead that glow in various shades of aquamarine thanks to the lights. One of the walls has a mural of abstract ocean waves.

  It’s like someone took a submarine and tried to decorate it like a spa.

  To our right, I see a couple rows of leather seats, like the kind they make for pilots. Each has a five-point safety harness.

  “Okay, now if you’ll take a seat...” Toby begins. He continues on with a ridiculously detailed description of, like, how to fasten the harness.

  There are no windows in here and nothing really to look at. Like, couldn’t The Spark have sprung for a few cat posters or something for the walls?

  Okay, MacKenna. Get a grip.

  Any place seems as good as the next. Toby’s talking as we all take seats. Each row has five chairs, and we take four in the front row, leaving the seat in the middle for my brother.

  The Perun jerks again, and my stomach lurches. I’ve got the impression that we’re descending more quickly than before.

  Whoa. Hold steady. How does that go again? Those who panic, don’t survive.

  Toby continues to stand, facing us and talking like he’s giving a prepared speech. “And then click the final buckle—”

  My right eye twitches. “We know how to use a damn seat belt, Toby!”

  Oh yeah, everyone but Terminus already has their restraint on. He’s fumbling with the last latch. Jinx and Navarro watch my brother with different expressions. She’s confused.

  But Navarro?

  It’s like he’s seeing a rival.

  My brother frowns at me and sits in the second row.

  Away. Separate. Well, he can run but he can’t hide.

  “So, you joined the rebel army without discussing it with anyone?” I try to turn my head around to get a glimpse of him.

  He hesitates before answering, and when he does speak, there’s a formality to him. “I’ve joined the provisional militia of the New United States under the command of General Harlan Copeland. And I did discuss it with someone. Dad.”

  My stomach burns. “You’re telling me Dad told you to do this?”

  “Nobody told me to do it.” Toby’s tone is sharp. “I’ll be twenty years old next month, and I don’t need anyone’s permission to enlist, and I—”

  An announcement goes out over a speaker. “All personnel at your stations. Brace yourself for evasive maneuvers.”

  “I thought you were going to be a schoolteacher!”

  He makes an impatient noise. “Where would I teach? At the Florence ADX Supermax Prison? Our old lives are gone. And honestly, so is that world.”

  I’m tempted to take off my seat belt and have it out with my brother.

  No, Mac. This is not the time to smack your brother.

  The Perun shivers. There’s a loud bong, and then the sub lurches.

  Oh crap. I take in deep breaths to fight nausea.

  “What the hell was that?” Terminus asks.

  Toby ignores Terminus and the mayhem around us. “Everything is so personal for you. For all of you. Jinx wants to find her brother. You both want...revenge. Partridge wants to erect a giant statue of the great Maxwell Marshall in the town square—”

  Terminus turns, like, um, green. Like he might throw up.

  On me.

  Oh. Ew.

  He clutches his stomach. “Hey...why...are...you...bringing me...into—”

  Terminus gives me his hand, and it’s cold and sweaty.

  “And Navarro...” Toby trails off. Like, yeah, we all know that Navarro is hopelessly in love with Jinx. Except, from the expression on my brother’s face, maybe he means something different.

  Anyway, I’m not buying any of this. “This is about her, isn’t it? Like if you become some extra fancy war hero, you’ll get the girl? You’re gonna get killed. And for what? Annika Carver?”

  Everyone in my row is still.

  “Stop being a child,” Toby says. “It is not about her. What did you think was going to happen? We’d find Charles and Jinx goes back to her video games and you return to making political slogan posters and everything is the way that it was? MacKenna, back home people are starving. The New Depression has become an emergency. There’s food rationing and energy rationing and a black market for almost everything. Ammon Carver is putting people in death camps because of their political beliefs. Today, he murdered thirty million people whose only crime was that they had the guts to stand up to him! If I lose my life, it will be for my country. For my principles. For my honor.”

  This whole thing sounds awfully rehearsed. And then I remember.

  Toby’s meeting with Jo on the deck.

  The way they both stared out at the sea.

  Waiting.

  Oh God. “You knew what was going to happen.”

  Toby says nothing.

  “That psychopath Copeland knew that...” I don’t even know how to finish my sentence.

  There’s another long pause. Which I guess is what will happen now every time my brother lies to me. “No one knew. Not for sure.” More hesitation. “Well. I guess some people probably did.”

  I look up and down my row to see if anyone else is hearing this. For some reason, it’s Navarro who’s turning red.

  Jinx sucks in a deep breath. “Could someone at least explain what is happening? Like where are we going? How does this get me to my brother?”

  I kinda resent the fact that she thinks that the problems with her brother trump the problems I’m having with my brother. But. Toby is here and Charles is gone.

  Except Toby is sort of gone too.

  I’m not sure we can just go to Portland to get him back.

  There’s another sharp pull to the right, and Terminus moans.

  I don’t think any of us will be hungry for dinner.

  Toby says nothing, and even weirder, it’s Navarro who kicks things off.

  “The Spark has to be managing its operations from somewhere,” he comments.

  Jinx frowns. “You’re implying that The Spark has a hidden base? In the middle of the ocean?” She jerks her head all around. Like she’s searching for a window to look out of.

  “You’re also implying that Copeland works with The Spark,” I say.

  If there ever was someone who seemed to have gone totally rogue, it was Copeland. My guess was that Copeland worked for Copeland.

  “Terminus!” Jinx says, reaching across both me and the empty seat to swat at him. “You’ve been working with these people for months. Who are they? What did they tell you?”

  Terminus does his best to straighten himself out. “What you have to understand is that...now...there’s The Opposition...and...everyone who opposes them. All sorts of...um...”

  Clang. Clang. Clang. More banging metal on metal.

  He draws in a deep breath and continues. “So everyone else is loosely organized under The Spark because—”

  Toby makes an impatient noise. “It’s not The Spark. It’s the—”

  “Provisional government of the New United States,” Navarro interrupts. “We know.”

  It’s od
d. Their sudden rivalry. They were never exactly friends, but now...

  I roll my eyes. Of course, Toby’s behind me, so he can’t see it.

  Toby speaks in the same rehearsed way as earlier. “It’s important to note that David Rosenthal is the lawfully elected president of the United States, and he has assembled a coalition of people with diverse political perspectives—”

  Navarro says what I’m thinking. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

  Clank. Creak.

  And then it’s like we’re on a crappy roller coaster. My butt leaves my seat, and the harness digs into my shoulders. Then back down again. Up and down.

  “Oh no,” Terminus says. He adds in a rush, “Basically, The Spark is in control of anything not held by The Opposition. Both groups are preparing for a war. Copeland is The Spark’s warmonger-in-chief. That’s all I know.”

  Those horrible navy scrambled eggs turn over in my stomach.

  I’m barely able to keep my food down, but Jinx is unbuckling her harness. This is Jinx 2.0. The badass who apparently doesn’t care if she gets her head knocked off by the roof of a submarine.

  But she has a plan. That works.

  Sort of.

  She grips her seat and stands.

  Meanwhile, Toby is saying, “The general is not a warmonger—”

  “He says he is,” Navarro spits back.

  Toby’s voice rises in alarm. “You can’t do that.” The thing is, he’s too alarmed. Jinx does bizarro dangerous stuff all the time, and he barely even notices. “Jinx! Sit down!”

  The sub descends sharply again, and Jinx ends up in Navarro’s lap.

  “Susan—” Navarro’s voice is full of queasiness.

  He’s about to wrap his arms around her when she stands and pushes up again. Her boots bang, very, very heavy on the metal floor. She makes it to the second row and falls into the seat next to my brother.

  “What the hell is this thing? And where are we going?” she asks him.

  “You have to put on your harness or—”

  “I know you know!” she yells at him.

  “Fine!” he says in defeat as we take a major hit and Jinx is thrown into the air. Toby has to pretty much catch her, and then she’s in his lap. “But buckle your seat belt!”

  Terminus leans over into the empty space on his right side and throws up.

  The small space we’re in fills up with the smell of stomach acid.

  And...Navarro is out of his seat.

  I’m retching and sure I’ll be puking up bacon bits any second. I cover my mouth with my hand, and it strikes me how cold it is. My skin feels cold and clammy and plastic. My breath on my palm is cool too.

  Behind me buckles click into place.

  “Okay. I’m buckled,” Jinx says.

  A pile of partially digested corn runs onto my boot. Oh. So. Gross. I jerk my foot back as far as I can. Stomach acid rises up and burns my throat.

  Navarro must be having the same problem because he says, “Ah! Disgusting.”

  “The Perun is an experimental submarine that was in development at a naval base in San Diego,” Toby begins. “It’s noteworthy because it can travel to extreme depths and also pressurize passengers as it descends.”

  Jinx flicks Terminus in the head. “How is that even possible? How would they be able to—”

  Terminus pants. “If you’re going to ask me ten thousand technical questions about...what computational power is needed to...or how they’re pressurizing us without first taking our biometrics...”

  Oh. Crap.

  He pukes. Again. Or at least he tries. There must not be anything left in his stomach because all that comes out is some whitish drool that gets stuck on his face.

  “Can you keep it together, Partridge?” Navarro says.

  The nose of the submarine must be pointing down, because we are being tilted back, like patients in dental chairs.

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” Terminus answers. “I’m only expunging my small intestines over here.”

  Jinx flicks him again. “Terminus—”

  “I don’t know, Jinx,” he says in a weak voice. “I’ve never seen the damn thing before today.”

  The Perun levels out, and we go for a minute without any turbulence.

  The alarm siren goes silent, and the blue lights stop flashing.

  “So Gus is right,” Jinx says. Yelling at first. Then in a normal voice. “The Spark built a control center at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean? Command is a deep-sea habitat?”

  Toby resumes in a fatigued voice. “The Federal government actually built it, but The Spark was able to seize it, since we largely control California. Very few vehicles are capable of reaching this depth. DS-SEALAB XVI was thought to be the safest place to bring Command.”

  We’re going to the bottom of the damn ocean.

  Okay, MacKenna. Don’t hurl.

  Take deep breaths. Stay calm.

  “What do they intend to do with Susan?” Navarro asks in a strange voice.

  It’s a strange question too.

  “Help her find her brother,” Toby says. In that voice he always used when Mom would catch him watching TV and not folding his laundry.

  I’m tired of this conversation that I can only hear and not see. I’m gonna have to go back there.

  I unbuckle, force myself to stand and face the three of them. I’m a little relieved that despite their conversation, they are totally a mess. Jinx’s blue hair is sticking almost straight up, and Navarro is the color of an old asparagus.

  Huffing and puffing, I ask, “Who is in command?”

  “I don’t know!” Toby says.

  Navarro catches my gaze. “He’s lying, you know. The Spark provoked that attack. I told you this from the very beginning. That everyone seeks power. That ideologies are really nothing more than control mechanisms. A way for the strong to dominate the weak.”

  “You’re wrong,” I tell him.

  Everyone’s for Rosenthal.

  That one thing still has to be true.

  “The Spark is fighting for a future that is fair for everyone,” Toby says. I guess he’s gonna take my side on this one issue.

  “The only difference between The Spark and The Opposition is that the latter is honest about its intentions,” Navarro tells him.

  “What do you know about being honest about intentions?” Toby fires back. “You ought to be asking what they’re gonna do to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jinx asks.

  Toby ignores her. “And here we are. The same lazy stuff all the time. There are bad people on both sides. That’s what you want to say, isn’t it? Well, I hate that argument.” He glances at me. “I’ve always hated it. It reeks of cynicism. And it totally lets people continue to do bad shit forever. Because whatever action that you want to take to stop bad shit from happening is always equated with the bad shit itself. It makes the morality the same for the victim and the perpetrator. Makes it wrong to kill a killer. Makes someone who recovers their stolen property the same as the thief.”

  A year ago, I would have made the same arguments. Before I saw my brother watching that explosion. If The Spark knew about that thing and didn’t warn people...

  “That blast,” I ask Terminus. “What did it come from?”

  He has his eyes closed. “Some kind of cold fusion bomb. We think.”

  I fall into my chair as I picture it again. The dark cloud that swallowed everything whole.

  Cold fusion is supposed to be impossible.

  Toby and Navarro continue to argue.

  “You’re the one who acts like a child. A child who is going to be very disappointed when you see what The Spark really intends to do,” Navarro says.

  “Hello!” Jinx waves a hand in front of his face. “What do they really intend to do?”


  There’s no time for an answer.

  We experience another knock.

  This time Toby explains, “We’re docking with SEALAB. They have to align everything exactly to maintain proper pressurization.”

  Proper. Pressurization. I guess this is what will keep our brains from turning to mush.

  Jo—Captain Pletcher—is back, in a uniform that matches the one Copeland was wearing. “It’s time,” she says, and I hear the nervousness in her voice.

  I have to help Terminus out of his seat, and we hobble along behind her. Jinx is worried again. Which is pretty normal, but Navarro and Toby eye each other with a newfound animosity.

  We’re back in the glass partition.

  Back in the low blue light.

  Except there’s no seascape. We must be right up against something because the view beyond the glass is complete blackness.

  Copeland and a small group of soldiers, almost silhouettes, wait near the door we entered when we boarded. They steal glances at Jinx.

  The door opens slowly into a cheerful, almost sunny environment.

  Copeland and his soldiers, including Toby, stand at attention and salute.

  There. Handsome. Dark hair trimmed and perfectly combed.

  Casual in a crisp white shirt and pair of khakis.

  My hero.

  LEAD: Command is David Rosenthal.

  God gave us life. Then He gave us war.

  —AMMON C. CARVER

  to MAXWELL MARSHALL

  Kennebunkport, Maine

  JINX

  I did not see this coming.

  I have to say, never ever did I think that Toby would join The Spark’s army.

  And Rosenthal was dead.

  I mean, he had to be, right?

  Although I tried to pretend otherwise whenever MacKenna was around, I’d always assumed that The Opposition had Rosenthal killed. No one had seen or heard from him since the inauguration back in January. He was the intellectual and practical leader of The Spark. The Opposition couldn’t let a guy like that stroll around.

  But where could he hide?

  I guess the bottom of the ocean was as good a place as any. Because here, up close and in person, is David Rosenthal.