by C. A. Gray
“Okay, now everybody close your eyes.”
“Jackson, really?” Kate said. “Now?”
I crouched down too, reaching over to grab her hand. “Trust me,” I told her. “All of you, take a deep breath in, as deep as you can make it, and hold it. Now, tense every muscle in your body, from your toes all the way up your legs, your abs, your arms, your fingers, and your face. Squeeze as hard as you can. Hold it. Okay. Release your breath, and with it, relax all your muscles. One at a time, from your face all the way back down to your toes.”
With a collective whoosh, I watched them all visibly relax.
“Open your eyes,” I commanded, and looked at each of them in turn. Grandfather had taught me that technique when I was ten, after I’d shot at and missed a charging bear. Grandfather had killed it for me, but I’d started to have a panic attack afterwards. This was how he'd brought me out of it. My uncle later explained that it had something to do with forcibly switching me from my sympathetic to my parasympathetic nervous system. “A physical way to manipulate your biochemistry,” he’d said, impressed.
I looked around at Kate’s family. They all looked calmer, or at least not on the verge of meltdown anymore. Kate’s mother especially watched me with wonder.
I told her, “Every time you start to panic, before you scream, and before you say ‘I can’t’ about anything, I want you to do that. Got it?”
She gazed back at me like I was some kind of miracle worker. For the first time, I saw where Kate got her eyes from. “You’re—you’re Jackson MacNamera! Aren’t you?”
I smiled in spite of myself. “I promise I’m not as bad as they made me out to be. All right, we’ve gotta move. Follow me, and stay down as best you can.”
Chapter 27: Kate
Jackson blazed our trail for us, seeking cover as he crept across the rooftop alone at first. Every moment my heart stopped as I saw bullets whizz past him. His entire path was riddled with bullet holes. But it seemed like he turned this to his advantage, like he purposely drew the agents’ gunfire to pinpoint their locations and then plucked them off, one by one. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he’d motion for us to follow him to the next bit of cover, and then repeat the process out in the open, alone.
“They’re shooting at him,” my mother whispered to me, incredulous. “They’re shooting at him, but he never gets hit. Why is that?”
I shook my head. I had been wondering the same thing—clearly these bullets were real, or there wouldn’t be so much damage.
Jackson motioned to us to join him behind a parapet some fifty yards from our current position. I ran out first, clutching the pistol he’d given me to my chest and scanning for any agents he might have missed. My mom came after me, then my dad, and Charlie brought up the rear. When I reached him, before Jackson could move on to the next segment of roof, I put a hand on his shoulder and started inspecting his clothing, making sure he really hadn’t been hit.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Checking for bullet holes! They’ve been shooting at you with semi-automatics, and everything around you gets totally wasted…!”
“Kate.” He took both my hands in his to stop me, and then turned me around, to face the direction from which we’d come. He pointed.
The rooftop behind us was pristine. Not a mark on it. I blinked, not understanding for half a second. When I did, I somehow felt both relieved and deflated.
“You’ve got a jammer,” I whispered to Jackson. And now that I was within its radius, I could see reality again too.
He nodded at me, and took it out of his pocket. “Here, you take it. I should have realized you would have lost yours by now.”
“But I learned to see!” I protested, frustrated. In the dungeons last night, I thought I’d overcome the government signals once and for all… how could I still be so susceptible? “I shouldn’t need this, and anyway, if you give it to me they’ll pick up your brainwaves and track you—”
He shoved it back at me. “The same goes for you, but it doesn’t matter because they already know both of us are on the roof right now anyway. As soon as we get off, we’ll all stay within ten feet of each other, and we’ll both disappear. But at the moment, just in case I miss one of the agents up here, I want you and your family protected.”
Before I could protest again, Jackson ran off for the next bit of cover, leaving the signal disruptor in my hands. I slipped it into my pocket. When the shots came at him this time, I still flinched, but the terror eased up somewhat. At least mentally, I knew he was okay.
My father crept up behind me as we waited. “Once we get off this roof, then where is he taking us?”
“Beckenshire,” I whispered back.
“Beckenshire?!” my whole family hissed in unison, and Charlie added, “Um, you mean nuclear power plant meltdown site Beckenshire? Are we talking about the same one?”
I nodded. “It might not be radioactive anymore, Will said, but the government didn’t want anyone to know that because they don’t have control centers set up there yet.”
“Might not be?” Charlie echoed, just as Jackson beckoned to us to follow him. He’d picked off most of the agents in the vicinity already, so this time he’d only had to kill one more. After this, we wouldn’t have that much further before we ran out of roof. I hoped Jackson had some idea how to get off of it.
When we reunited with Jackson under the next parapet right by the edge of the roof, Charlie demanded again, “What do you mean, it might not be radioactive, Kate?”
“We don’t technically know for sure,” I snapped. “But it was either go and risk dying later, or die now for sure. So if you’d prefer we just leave you here, now would be the time to speak up!”
“Well, excuse me for expressing a little concern about slowly dying of cancer!” Charlie retorted. “Ever think maybe there’s a reason why they’re not bothering to look for you guys there? Like maybe they know something you don’t know?”
“We had a perfectly safe cave community, but the Potentate bombed that!” I shot back. “It was our only option—”
“Shh!” Jackson hissed. He still crouched down below the parapet, and turned slowly with an expression of intense focus. Suddenly he stopped, and raised the rifle just past my father’s shoulder. My father ducked in alarm, but Jackson ignored him, and fired. As soon as he did, I saw the body fall much farther away than where I’d been looking for it—and evidently just before the agent could pull the trigger on us, as his own rifle clattered to the roof beside him. Not that Jackson, Charlie or I were in danger from false bullets now, but I still wasn’t sure if my parents were immune, even within the jammer’s radius.
“Okay,” Jackson turned to us, pulling a thick rope out of the pack he wore on his back. “How are you four at rappelling?”
We all blinked at him for a minute, before I said, “You’re joking.”
He shook his head. “It’s the only way down, unless you want to go through the palace itself.” He walked to the edge of the roof, where decorative concrete pillars punctuated the perimeter, separating lengths of wrought iron fence. Then he looped one end of the rope around the concrete pillar, and around part of the fence too.
“Jackson…” I said cautiously. Was he really serious?
He ignored me, gathering up the two loose ends of the rope and knotting them together. Then he picked up the length of it, and tossed it down to the lawn below.
Oh my, he was serious. I started to feel lightheaded.
Behind me, my mother began to babble, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this, I can’t do this…”
“Mom!” I heard Charlie say sharply, and turned to see him clutching both her hands. “Close your eyes!” he ordered. “Take a deep breath in, and flex every muscle in your body…”
Jackson looked over his shoulder at them and half-smiled, and then he winked at me. I tried to smile back.
“You might want to follow along with t
hem,” Jackson told me.
I shook my head, maybe too vigorously. “I’m fine.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow at me. “Truth or a lie, Kate?”
Of course the answer to that was obvious. I bit my lip in response, nodded, and closed my eyes, screwing up the muscles in my toes, arms, legs, torso, and face. I held everything as tightly as I could for a count of eight. Then I exhaled and opened my eyes.
It was amazing, how that simple action could flood my body with a kind of mild euphoria. At least briefly.
“Charlie,” Jackson beckoned my brother. “Let’s have you go first.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Why aren’t you going first?”
“Because I have to stay up here and fasten the harnesses for everybody. It’s not hard, but I wouldn’t want you to get it wrong.” He grabbed the two sides of the rope looped around the pillar and fence, swinging just enough of them back up onto the roof. “This is what you’ll have to do,” he told Charlie, “and if you get a rope burn… I apologize.” To demonstrate, Jackson positioned each side of the rope under his own armpits, looping them around behind his back and then stepping his foot outside the free edges of the rope on either side. Then he looped those edges up through his groin, pulling both ends of the rope behind him and gathering them with his right hand beside his right hip. He wrapped both of the free edges of the rope once around his right wrist.
“This is how your weight is supported,” Jackson told Charlie, lifting up his right wrist. “Move your arm more backwards to minimize friction and help you descend faster, or forwards to slow down. Hold the ropes above you with your left hand, release a little at a time with your right arm, and push down with your feet. Got it?”
Charlie looked white, but he nodded. “Sure. Sure.”
“All right,” said Jackson, disentangling himself and wrapping the makeshift harness around my brother instead. When he’d gotten it in place, he told Charlie, “Lean back, just… yep. Feel secure, like it’ll hold your weight?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Charlie muttered.
My mother covered her face with her hands, muttering, “No, no, no, no…” But we all ignored her, because what else could we do?
“All right then,” Jackson told Charlie. “Swing around to the edge of the… uh oh. Hold on, we’ve got company.” He leaned over the edge of the roof, pointing the rifle at the ground in the distance. He picked off one agent, but stayed where he was, shifting the barrel of the rifle a little to the left. He fired another shot. A few seconds later, he shifted the barrel up and back right, and fired twice more. Apparently satisfied for the moment, he moved the barrel of the rifle straight up so he could grip it with one hand, and turned to Charlie.
“That’s the other reason for me to go last. I can see better up here. Coast is clear at the moment, but I don’t know for how long. Take the time you need, but get on down there. I’ll toss down the semiautomatic when you reach the bottom.”
My mother threw her arms around Charlie and kissed him.
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Charlie muttered, and set his jaw. Then he leaned back to test the harness one more time, bounced back and forth a little, and practiced letting the rope go with his right arm on level ground. Then he stepped up onto the edge of the roof, climbing over and positioning his feet on the wall as he leaned back into the rope.
I couldn’t watch.
I opened my eyes again with the next gunshot: it was Jackson, picking off another agent down on the lawn below. Then he tossed down the semiautomatic to Charlie, as promised.
“Is he down?” I breathed again.
Jackson nodded at me, and signaled to my father to step up next as he gathered up the slack edges of the rope Charlie had released. I saw my father take a deep breath, puffing up his chest with false bravado as he allowed Jackson to fasten him inside the harness. My mother and I both kissed him.
“Be careful,” I whispered, and my dad gave me a weak smile and touched my cheek.
“You too, Katie.” Then he said, “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.”
My eyes filled with tears. I bit my lip and said a silent prayer as my dad disappeared down the side of the palace, white-faced.
The next eruption of gunfire came much too close to the spot where Charlie and my dad were. I screamed involuntarily, and so did my mom.
“It’s okay,” Jackson told us, “Charlie got him. They’re both fine.” He signaled to my mom next, who shook her head vigorously.
“I can’t. I can’t. No, I can’t…”
“Mom, the alternative is to leave you up here, and we can’t do that,” I said, with more exasperation than I’d intended.
But Mom shook her head. “I can’t do it, I just can’t…”
I looked at Jackson desperately, and tried again, “Dad and Charlie are both down there, they can catch you if anything goes wrong—”
Jackson put a hand on my shoulder to stop me, and then looked at my mom. “Remember,” he told her, “that whether you can or you can’t do anything is all a matter of mindset.”
“That’s not true!” my mother burst out, “you have to have skill and experience too, and I don’t have either one!”
“I agree,” Jackson held up a hand, just as another burst of gunfire erupted down below, and we all jumped. I balled my hands into fists, as if that would keep my ragged nerves together. Jackson went on, “I agree that skill and experience would be preferable, but not necessary, as your son and husband have just proven. You can rappel down this building. The question is, will you?”
“I won’t, then!” my mom declared, shaking her head. “I won’t! You’ll have to come up with another way to get us off this roof, because I won’t do it!”
“Every moment you delay, you put your son’s and husband’s lives in more danger,” Jackson said, stern now. “They’re exposed down there, waiting for us. When we get off this roof, we can all take cover and escape together. But if you force us to split up, they will most likely die. Our chances inside the palace won’t be a whole lot better, either.”
It wasn’t the tactic I’d expected him to use, but it worked. Mom didn’t say anything else at all, but she held up her arms, signaling Jackson to wrap the makeshift harness around her. Her jaw trembled, but she didn’t look at either of us.
“Now, lean back,” Jackson told her when he’d gotten it all hooked up. “Make sure it supports your weight.” She did, letting out a little involuntary whimper. “All right, you’re ready. Remember, arm in front of you for more friction to slow down, arm behind you to help you get down quicker. But the more you slow yourself down, the worse your rope burns will be.”
Jackson took her by the shoulders and guided her to the ledge, helping her position her feet even as she clung to the wall.
“Let go,” he told her gently. “You’re fine.”
“Come on, Mom!” called Charlie below, a definite edge to his voice.
She let out a small sob as she let go, and then she screamed, even though she didn’t fall.
“My arm, ow, ow, ow!”
“You’ll have some rope burns, yes,” said Jackson again, “but you’ll be fine. Go on.” Even as he spoke, he reloaded the rifle and then aimed it further in the distance, firing three more times.
“More company,” he told me under his breath.
When he lowered the rifle, I wrapped my arms around him from behind and squeezed as tightly as I could. I knew he was still focused and this probably wasn’t a great time, but we were finally alone, and I couldn’t help myself anymore. He seemed surprised, but turned around and hugged me back, still clutching the rifle with one hand behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, pressing my face against his chest and probably rubbing off my greasy and sweaty disguise makeup all over him. “Thank you. Thank you for coming back for us and for saving all our lives.”
He tilted my chin up, and for a second my heart stopped: I thought he was going to kiss me.
“She’s down!” called Charlie from below.
Jackson released me abruptly, moving back to the edge of the roof. I reminded myself to breathe, trying not to feel let down.
At least we had a moment, I told myself. Maybe it was all we’d ever get.
“Come on, let’s get you down next,” he said, wrapping me in the harness. I let him, and kept trying to catch his eye, to read what he was thinking. But he was all business. “Lean back,” he commanded. I did, testing my weight. The rope held, but I could see what my mom meant by rope burns on my right arm. Then he led me to the edge of the building, and for a second he cupped my face in his hands.
“Be careful,” he said. “I’ll be down in a second.”
Chapter 28: Ben Voltolini
Voltolini grinned at no one in particular at the news of the coming execution of the refugee leaders. Then he turned to Kurtzman.
“I want to be there,” he said. “I will do the interrogation myself, and I want to give the orders. Fly me out there.”
Kurtzman looked a little taken aback by this. “But… sir, the escapees are still out there, and heavily armed—”
“Then call in more agents to escort me to the helicopter!”
Still Kurtzman hesitated. It wasn’t in his nature to disobey, but he knew a bad plan when he heard one. The helicopter, as with all aircraft, was a relic of the old United States. In the past weeks, rumors had reached Voltolini’s ears of planes flying across the Republic’s skies, and they’d disturbed him so much that he’d immediately ordered the military to renovate as many planes as they could, as quickly as they could.
Only those closest to him knew that he feared invasion, as retaliation for the control centers currently under construction on foreign soil. Voltolini and the Tribunal had hidden their operations quite well there, or so they thought: in New Estonia, where they’d made the most headway, the construction workers passed off their project as a textile factory. They’d gotten all the appropriate permits, and were building sham factory equipment in addition to the control center technology for anyone who happened to come looking. So far as they knew, nobody had asked any questions.