by C. A. Gray
I nodded. “Trying to focus on what I still have, instead of on what I don’t.” I touched her jaw, and she looked up. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Thinking about Will?” I asked quietly.
She sniffed, and gave a half shrug. “Of course. But I’ve kind of been in that place where my mind just can’t even focus on any one thing for very long, you know? Will, and the trial… Mom and Dad almost getting killed, our escape, Stone and the execution, Molly, Beckenshire… All these different scenes are competing in my head. They’re all important, but there’s nothing I can do about any of them. So they revolve, and they each get about ten seconds before the next one takes over…” She gave me a sad smile. “But I forget who I’m talking to. You’re Mr. Focused. You can’t relate.”
I hated when people said stuff like that. It was like she’d just erected an insurmountable barrier between us, like we were two different species. She said it like an envious compliment, but the receiving end of it felt lonelier than ever.
“I am human, you know,” I said.
“Are you?” she searched my eyes. “Sometimes I wonder.”
That hurt a little. I looked out the windshield. “Will asked me once if I had any weaknesses, too.”
I saw Kate wince at the sound of his name. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him… that I tend to lie to myself.”
“You lie to yourself?” she laughed. “About what?”
When I’d said that to Will, I’d actually been thinking of Kate at the time—wondering whether I really didn’t care about her that much, or whether I was convincing myself I didn’t for his sake, and for my own sense of honor. This didn’t seem like the moment to go into that, though.
What I said was, “I’m pretty good at seeing truth when I’m just an observer, and not a variable. But when my own feelings get involved, suddenly I don’t know which way is up.” I turned back to her and said pointedly, “I’m just like everyone else in that way.”
She still held my hand, turning it over and inspecting my palm so she didn’t have to look me in the eye. I felt like she knew exactly what I was talking about, but she didn’t want to go there right now either. Instead, she said, “You haven’t been talking much in the last few hours. What were you thinking about?” She looked up and joked, “Were you just hyper-aware of every car whizzing by us and every sound on the road?”
I smiled too, but it faded quickly. “I was thinking about Nick,” I admitted. “And Jacob. He was getting good at controlling his thoughts and tuning in, you know? And Roger. He gave up his whole life as an agent to come and help us.” I swallowed. “And Will. I know it seems strange, but I was really starting to like that guy.”
Kate bit her lip. “He’s likable,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “When he’s not being a condescending know-it-all.” She laughed, wiping tears away and smearing her makeup even worse than before.
“And when he’s not half mad with jealousy,” I added.
She didn’t answer right away, trying to compose herself. “They might still be alive.”
I nodded. “Sure. I know.”
Over her shoulder, Albert signaled us, and Charlie gave us a thumbs up.
“Looks like your brother has this down,” I said, as Kate put the Jaguar into gear to follow him. “So, do you have any idea how to run a car into a lake without drowning ourselves?”
“No freaking clue,” she grinned at me through her tears. “Guess we’ll figure it out though.”
“Let’s hope. I don’t feel like drowning tonight.” I started to fasten my seatbelt and thought better of it—in case I’d have to jump out quickly and all. “Lot of firsts today, huh?”
Chapter 34: Jackson
Kate put the car on cruise control at fifteen miles per hour so it would keep going without her, and headed for the bank of the lake. Both of us opened our doors wide and, with about fifty yards to go, jumped out and rolled onto the soft earth of the bank. I stood up and brushed myself off, watching the Jaguar splash into the lake, slowly fill with water, and sink.
“Is this lake deep enough to conceal it?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “No idea. But I figure anything is better than leaving the Jaguar parked in front of wherever we camp for the night, right?”
Charlie and Kate’s parents had followed us to the bank in their old clunker, so we walked back to them and got inside.
“There’s a house off by itself right there,” said Charlie, pointing at one at the very edge of the bank. The front part of the roof looked like it was about to fall off at any second, and the windows were cracked. It definitely looked uninhabited.
“Give it a try,” said Albert. I glanced over at Kate’s parents in the back seat beside me. Albert had his arm around Denise, who looked like she’d managed to fall asleep again. It was sweet, to see how much he cared for his wife.
Charlie pulled up behind the house, and killed the engine. The knob of the front door wouldn’t turn, but it didn’t catch in the lock either, so he pushed it open easily.
“Ugh!” he cried, fanning his nose. “What in the world—?”
“Maybe it’s better in the back rooms,” I said, pinching my nose too as I made my way in. Something was definitely decomposing in here… maybe several somethings. Maybe several big somethings. But it was no worse than the homes we’d found in Beckenshire.
The back bedroom looked almost untouched. There was a single wide mattress on the floor with a threadbare coverlet on it, and a thick layer of dust covered the floor. I wandered over to the large piece of furniture that must have been a wardrobe and opened it. Inside there was a musty smell, but compared to the rest of the house, it wasn’t too bad.
The wardrobe had belonged to a young woman, evidently. That gave me an idea, and I rifled through the clothing, pulling out a blue dress that looked about Kate’s size. There were a few loose threads here and there, some tiny holes that might have been made from insects, and the zipper in back looked like it might have one or two uses left in it. But other than that, it looked all right. It reminded me of the dress she’d worn the first time I’d seen her, on camera.
Charlie knocked on the door of the bedroom where I was, coughing.
“Think we’d all end up with pneumonia or something here,” he said. “Let’s keep looking.”
I tucked the dress into the bag I’d brought with me, next to the rope, and followed him out.
We left the housing subdivision altogether and entered the industrial area of Greensborough. Kate pointed out a large warehouse with graffiti on its walls, and no windowpanes at all.
“Really?” said Charlie, skeptical.
She shrugged. “Well, it’s on the edge of downtown, so it might still be on the main water line. And at this point we need to sleep somewhere.” Judging from the position of the moon, I guessed it was probably about nine o’clock. Even I felt exhausted, so I assumed the others were about to fall over.
Charlie parked and we got out cautiously, creeping up to inspect the warehouse in single file. But despite the bright moonlight, there was no one in sight. The main metal door was locked, but Charlie pulled some sort of long thin instrument out of the toolbox he and Kate had stolen, and picked the lock.
Once inside, Albert revealed a bunch of cans and a can opener he’d pilfered from the last house, and we had a meager meal of beans and corn, but it was much better than nothing. When we’d finished, we all laid out a series of blankets on the filthy concrete floor for our beds, right next to the small half bathroom. A single lightbulb hung down in the middle of the bathroom ceiling, and Kate went in and pulled the cord—lo and behold, it lit up.
“Found some soap,” she told no one in particular, and I saw that she held a bar in her hand which she also must have gotten from the house. As she closed the door, I heard her try the sink. There were a few gurgles and spurts, but it eventually did sound like she got at least a trickle.
Denise and A
lbert lay down immediately, and Denise went right back to sleep. Albert lay beside her, but I could see the reflection of the moonlight filtering through the window in his eyes. He was in his own world. Charlie stood at the window with his back to us, arms clasped behind him, also staring out into the darkness. Like the rest of us, I’m sure he was wondering if it was his last night on earth.
I crept up to the bathroom and knocked on the door.
Kate opened it, her face fresh now and looking like herself again.
“There she is,” I whispered, and smiled, holding up the blue dress. “Thought you might want to wear this tomorrow, instead of the jumpsuit. Not that that doesn’t also look great on you.”
She gave me a weak laugh and took the dress, looking at the tag. She nodded and whispered, “It’s the right size.” Then I saw her face crumple.
Instinctively I stepped into the little bathroom and closed the door behind us, just as Kate covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
“Hey,” I said, pulling her into my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my chest. “I just had a horrible thought.”
“What’s that?”
“That… you just handed me my shroud.”
I took a deep breath. What could I say to that?
She continued to weep silently as I stroked her hair, resting my chin on the top of her head.
Well… what if she’s right?
Despite the blanks the agents used as bullets, at least the Potentate had to know the difference, and by now he knew that we knew, too. Any number of things could happen tomorrow. He could send agents with real bullets. He could bomb the studio.
I had a fleeting thought of Will. He might still be alive. But if he was, what were the chances we’d ever see him again anyway?
If I do see him again… I’ll apologize later, I decided.
I lifted Kate’s chin, and kissed her.
It took a moment for her to register what was happening, but when she did, she kissed me back with a vehemence that surprised me. I hadn’t been prepared for it, so I bumped my elbow into the doorframe trying to stabilize us both.
A few seconds later, someone pounded a flat palm against the door.
“Dude,” said Charlie’s voice. “Guys. We can all hear you.”
Kate and I pulled apart, and I’m sure I looked as abashed as she did. We both whisper-laughed, and I rested my forehead on hers.
“Ten feet isn’t very far,” I whispered.
Kate looked up at me, her eyes less than an inch from mine.
“I love you,” she whispered back.
I hadn’t expected that either. Before I could reply, she said, “I know you knew that already, and I know you don’t feel the same way, or don’t know if you do, or whatever. I’m not asking you to say it back.”
Now I blinked at her, confused. I had no idea what I was supposed to say, then.
Kate looked down, and whisper-laughed again, more to herself than to me. “It’s funny. The old me, the me from the Republic, would never, ever in a million years have said ‘I love you’ first, let alone to a guy she thought might not feel the same way. But if I die tomorrow, I just need to go… knowing that you know.”
“You’re not going to die,” I whispered, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”
She met my eyes, and hers were so deeply sad. “Truth or a lie, Jackson?”
Chapter 35: Voltolini
It was a marvelous feeling, being up in the air, Voltolini thought as his helicopter crested above the trees just as the sun slipped over the horizon. He hadn’t been in any sort of aircraft in decades. The bullet trains and his own vehicles had been sufficient. But ever since he’d started to hear rumors of planes every now and then, which he still felt certain belonged to enemy spies, he’d begun to refurbish his own aircraft as well. His helicopter was such a symbol of luxury that now he could hardly imagine having lived without it as a personal means of transportation.
There were four other individuals in the helicopter with him: the pilot, his chief bodyguard Kurtzman, Williams, the head of Secret Service, and his speaker, Jefferson Collins. They had to shout to communicate over the chopping of the helicopter blades, so after he’d received word that Beckenshire had been flattened to the ground, they’d spoken little. That was fine with him: he wanted to savor what victories he could. He’d enjoyed watching the rebels beg for their lives as they were gunned down—especially Stone. He’d despised the man as a self-interested coward.
He turned to Williams and shouted, “Send a comm to the agents on the ground. I want updates on MacNamera and Brandeis. I assume we’ve caught them by now, but I want to know why the hell I haven’t heard about it yet.”
Williams nodded, pulling out his netscreen. A few minutes later, Voltolini saw him frown, and hesitate.
“Tell me,” Voltolini demanded.
“We don’t know where they are, sir.”
Voltolini’s eyes narrowed. “We—what?”
“We don’t know where they are.”
It took Voltolini a moment to understand the meaning of the words. “Can we or can we not track the brainwaves of an individual?” he demanded.
Kurtzman interjected, “They might be dead. Or already off the grid.”
Voltolini swore. “If they were dead, we should have found their bodies already. Didn’t we have at least a dozen agents on their tail? Get Barrett on the line. Now.”
As Williams contacted the Chief Technology Officer, Jefferson Collins snuck furtive glances at Voltolini and the other two, not daring to say anything. Voltolini despised him too. One of these days he’d come up with a reason to have him killed, just so he wouldn’t have to put up with his simpering mannerisms anymore. Collins reminded Voltolini of a scolded dog.
Barrett’s haggard face appeared on Williams’s screen. She looked like she hadn’t slept in maybe a week. Williams turned it so that Voltolini could see.
“First question,” Voltolini barked at her without preamble, “Did you or did you not complete the project to link brainwaves to ID chips to board the bullet trains, like you promised me weeks and weeks ago?”
“Completed, sir,” confirmed Barrett.
“About damn time,” Voltolini said, and looked at Kurtzman. “So there’s no way they’re off the grid yet, then.” He looked back at Barrett. “I understand we cannot track MacNamera’s or Brandeis’s brainwaves.” He looked at Williams again. “What about the parents and the brother? Where are they?”
Williams shook his head. “Also vanished.”
Voltolini swore again, and then fixed on Barrett. “So we have five people, all still on the grid, who nevertheless appear to have vanished. How is that possible? Do they have some kind of cloaking device?”
Barrett opened her mouth and then closed it again, clearly weighing her words carefully.
“Spit it out, Barrett,” snapped Voltolini. “I want explanations, and I want them yesterday.”
“Perhaps… Faraday cages?” she said. “I understand a few weeks ago, agents saw a group of rebels of whom they speculate MacNamera was one—”
“Wearing ski masks, yes. But they weren’t wearing those at the palace. What else could it be?”
She floundered. Finally she said, “I’m—afraid I can’t think of anything they wouldn’t have to wear that could disrupt our ability to read their brainwaves, sir.”
Voltolini licked his lips and looked out the window without really seeing anything. Then he said, “The targeted brainwave project I asked for weeks ago. Is it done?”
Barrett looked visibly relieved by the subject change. “It’s in testing, sir. At the reform schools. We can now send targeted messages to the brainwaves of individual students. So far it appears to be working beautifully on some of our toughest cases.”
“Perfect,” said Voltolini. “Pump it out to the control centers, then. Eventually MacNamera and Brandeis will slip
up and reappear on the map, and when they do, we need to be ready.”
“But sir, we’re still in testing—we don’t know yet if the program will interfere with other signaling—”
“Make it happen!” Voltolini snapped. “We don’t know where they are right now, so I want those two targeted across every control center in the Republic!”
“Telling them what?” Barrett choked. “After all that’s happened to them, with all due respect, sir, I’m not sure even our most targeted programs will convince them of your… benevolence.”
Voltolini bit his lip. She was right about that. At last he said, “No. No, perhaps not. So we’ll turn them against each other.”
Williams, who still held the netscreen, shook his head. “Not gonna work on MacNamera,” he said. “The guy is a machine.”
“Try anyway,” Voltolini ordered to them both. “But focus on Kate. We got her once, even without targeting—surely we can do it again. And if we get her, she’s the key to him.”
Chapter 36: Kate
I fell asleep in Jackson’s arms that night. Funny, how life can be such a mixture of pleasure and pain; how the anticipation of loss made the moments I had with him, and even with my whiny and difficult family, that much sweeter.
He didn’t tell me he loved me back, but as soon as I told him how I felt, I could see in his eyes that he did. It was the reason why he’d come after me. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, since I hadn’t felt it that last day in Beckenshire together—and maybe Jackson still hadn’t recognized it himself. But I could feel it in how tightly he held me, like he was trying to protect me from even my own fears.
The idea that I knew something about Jackson that he didn’t know yet himself was oddly empowering. It was the first time I felt like maybe, just maybe, we were equals.
The sun rose the next morning like usual. It always surprised me when that happened: you think life will go on just as it always has, until one day, everything changes. Yet the sun rises anyway.