Viral Nation

by Grimes, Shaunta

  Clover half turned and said to Jude, standing behind her, “I have to go.”

  Jude stood up and handed the zine, which he’d been reading through again, to West, who said, “Clover—”

  “I’m going.” Clover stopped her brother before he could do or say something that would tip over her carefully balanced emotions. “I’ll be fine.”

  West closed his hand around her upper arm. She kissed his cheek, then pulled away from him and knelt to hug Mango. She wasn’t taking him for the same reasons she’d left him behind when she went to the bar. If this went badly, she didn’t want him caught up in it. It was hard enough trying to figure out how she was going to manage without Mango, without having to worry about him being taken from her permanently.

  Jude followed her out of the room.

  “Don’t let him die,” Clover said as she hefted her pack. She hadn’t spent more than a workday away from her brother in her whole life. “Don’t you dare let him die.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You have to remember the hiding spot for two years.”

  “I’m sure you won’t let me forget.”

  Clover stopped, a few steps down from Jude, between the thirteenth and fourteenth floors. “This could be a mistake. We might be setting ourselves up for a…I don’t know, a major time loop. Or something even worse.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the point.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “This has never been about what I want.” Before she started down again, she added, “Take care of my dog.”

  When Clover arrived at the Mariner offices, she spent a few minutes pacing in front of the main entrance before she finally made herself go through into the cool, sterile lobby. The same receptionist who had been there on her first day smiled at her.

  “Hello, Miss Donovan,” she said.

  “I’m…it’s a workday for me.”

  “Yes, of course. I have you on my list. Have a good mission.”

  Clover ran her sandpaper tongue over her bottom lip and hurried toward the elevators. Through the nerve-racking wait for the doors to open and close and the ride seven stories up, she could not stop thinking about Bennett in Bridget’s house. It made a strange kind of sense that maybe Bennett had placed the arrest warrant for West when he was surprised in his efforts to do something bad to Bridget, although it made Clover’s head hurt to think about how it could have happened. Or why West was allowed to take Bridget away from her house at all. Or why no one seemed to be looking very hard for Bridget.

  Her theory was that Bennett had come to do something bad to Bridget and was surprised by finding West in the house. Because Jude had warned them about West’s arrest early through the zine, whatever information the guard had about West and Bridget had changed.

  Clover shook her head to clear away the complicated thoughts that cluttered it. She opened her closet and reached in for the jumpsuit. West couldn’t die, she decided as she took it off its hanger. That was all she had to think about right now.

  She went into the bathroom and took a hot shower, dressed in her new uniform and her boots, and went back downstairs to meet the trainer who would take Leanne’s place until her leg healed. Clover half expected Bennett instead, there to demand she produce her brother the moment the elevator door opened, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to see him leaning against the receptionist’s desk. But she was. Her heart stuttered, then restarted painfully.

  He straightened when he saw her walking toward him and met her halfway. “Ready for your mission today?”

  “What are you doing here?” She should have answered that she was ready for her mission and asked about his weekend, but she thought of it too late.

  “We weren’t able to free up a trainer for you today. You did an excellent job on your own. Are you up for another solo run?” Bennett looked around. “Really solo this time, it looks like. Where’s our Mango?”

  “I decided to leave him at home. How was your weekend?”

  “Just fine, dear. Just fine.”

  Bennett opened and closed his hands at his sides, and his mouth was set in a stern line, even though his tone was friendly.

  “Are you sure?” Clover asked him.

  “Quite. Let’s go, shall we?”

  Clover walked behind Bennett outside and to the parking lot. He went to the driver’s side and she followed him. And then he got in. “I thought I was going alone.”

  “You are, from the dock.” He closed the door and stared at her through the window until she went around and got in the passenger seat.

  “I hear your brother is in some trouble,” Bennett said as he pulled the van onto Virginia Street.

  “He—” Clover didn’t know what to say. “Yes, I guess he is.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  The motion sickness hit all at once. “No, sir.”

  “You aren’t staying at your house alone?”

  Oh, God. She wasn’t good at trying to come up with clever answers without time to think. “I’m fine.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. She knew it immediately, but it was too late to do anything about it. She was prepared for him to push her about West. Why hadn’t he done that? What difference did it make to him where she lived?

  “We can’t have that,” Bennett said. “I’ll make sure someone from the emergency center at Foster City comes by to see you after your mission. You’re going to be just fine, Clover. You belong to the Company now. We’ll take good care of you.”

  Clover rolled down her window in hopes that she wouldn’t add to Mango’s pee stain by puking all over the carpet.

  Sitting in the Messenger cabin inside the Veronica, Clover couldn’t stop thinking about the two years passing as the big steam-powered machine slipped through the portal and up on the other side. West might be dead now. Long dead. She might get off the submarine in a time when her hardest mourning for him was done.

  If there were no suppressant syringes in the hiding spot, did that mean that she and Jude had decided they weren’t necessary?

  If there were some, did that mean that everything would be okay?

  If there were none, it could mean that she didn’t make it back to the Dinosaur. She might get caught trying to steal the suppressant. Or Bennett might have the emergency center employee at the barracks take her into guardianship, stolen syringes and all, before she was released from her quarantine.

  What if Jude had kissed her out of sadness because she was executed for trying to save her brother? She tried to imagine standing in the concrete Kill Room she’d only seen pictures of, while faceless executioners trained their rifles to the red X over her heart. She hadn’t written any of the articles in the zine. Not one. That had to mean something, right?

  She didn’t realize she was rocking until her head hit the curved wall behind her.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered. She would have done anything to feel Mango pressing his body against her legs. “I’m okay.”

  She was alive now and not in any kind of trouble at the moment. And the syringes wouldn’t be there if her having them meant she’d die. She needed to hold on to that. The ship docked and Clover climbed out of the dark hold and into the sun on rubbery legs with her stomach turning itself inside out.

  At least she really did feel sick. In fact, it didn’t take much to fake a choking gag for the benefit of the Mariners still milling around the dock as she climbed out of the submarine. She lurched off toward the brick building, felt her way along the side wall, and slipped behind it.

  She didn’t actually throw up, but it was close. She was so busy thinking about her stomach and what the odds were that she was having a heart attack that she almost missed what she’d come back there for. All she saw were rocks and short little shrubs, stunted by lack of sun between the building and the cliff side behind it.

  Panic made her stomach turn over again. It had to be here. It had to be. She got on her hands and knees and dug throug
h the brush and the sharp little stones.

  And there it was. Sitting in the dirt behind a larger rock. A leather belt with a pouch exactly like the one she wore around her waist. Clover picked it up and sat hard on her butt with her back against the rock, the pouch in her lap.

  Her hands shook as she opened it. Inside, she found a cloth-wrapped bundle that she didn’t dare unwrap. She stood up and took off her belt, retched one more time for good measure, and tossed it over the cliff to the lake below. She threaded the new belt around her waist, the pouch settled over her hip, and came back out to the dock.

  The illegal syringes felt like a beacon in neon light that might draw the attention of every Mariner on the dock. There were only a few people left at the launch site, though, and none of them even looked at her. Clover fumbled for the van keys in her pocket and forced herself to walk slowly to the vehicle. She tried to look as normal as she could, but her limbs were stiff and weird and she knew she was failing.

  A man and a woman, both in black Time Mariner jumpsuits, stood talking. A small group of Static Mariners stood together at the end of the dock like they were waiting for something. It occurred to her that they were waiting for her to bring back the disc before they arrested her. So far, this whole thing was so easy, except for her own panic, that Clover was paranoid she was being set up. She actually looked back over the van seats to make sure Bennett or a guard wasn’t hiding there. She drove, her hands sweaty on the steering wheel, wondering if she would be arrested at the pickup box. Or meet Jude there again.

  But she didn’t see anyone. With time to spare, she returned to the dock, parked the van, and went back to the Messenger cabin and buckled herself in. She wished the cabin door locked, but it didn’t. The Static Mariners were gone when she came back to the ship. She wasn’t sure whether the Time Mariners were inside already.

  She was sure she would never do this again as she settled back in her seat and the submarine came to life under her. Never travel, never drive. She’d never see Leanne again.

  Before the Veronica began its descent, Clover cracked open her fortune cookie. She read the little slip of paper out loud with just seconds to spare.

  “Do not fear what you don’t know.” Clover shoved the paper into her pocket. “Yeah.”

  The van waited for her in the dock parking lot. Bennett must have had someone drive it over, rather than come for her himself. The relief at not seeing him was almost overwhelming, and she had to get herself together before she started the engine. She drove to the last turn in the road before she’d be visible to the guards at the gate and pulled to the side of the road.

  For a few minutes, she sat there with everything in her screaming at her to go back to the Dinosaur now, skip the quarantine and the possibility that Bennett would somehow force her to give up her brother.

  The guard would turn over every rock in Reno looking for her if she disappeared with a disc. Even if she left the disc in the van, he would not let her just go. The Dinosaur would go from being relatively safe to the place where she waited to be arrested and maybe executed. Bennett had called her involvement with the Company a draft. He’d drawn a comparison to war. Clover was smart enough to know she didn’t understand everything that was going on here. She was missing something. Something big. And that something might get her or her brother, or the other kids at the Dinosaur, killed.

  Why hadn’t she thought this part out more thoroughly before now? She opened the leather pouch Jude had left for her. Or maybe she’d left it for herself. There was no way to know for sure, but it comforted her to believe that Jude had done what he’d promised.

  Inside the pouch was a soft cloth cushioning a dozen syringes filled with the thick suppressant. Would that be enough? Was there some significance to the number that she didn’t know, or was this just all they could get?

  The syringes were warm to the touch, and Clover wondered if they’d stay fresh this way. She had no way to refrigerate them in her room at the barracks, except maybe to fill her sink basin with cold water and submerge them. And then pray that no one came in and saw them.

  Each syringe was topped with a nasty-looking needle. West and Bridget would have to get dosed the old-fashioned way. She wrapped them up again and slid them into the top of her jumper. The belt around her waist kept them from slipping too far down. She was able to separate them and lay them flat, so they didn’t add a noticeable amount of bulk. She felt them there, though, and they kept her hyperfocused.

  She would not survive being taken in for questioning about West with these syringes on her person.

  She drove through the gate, lifting a surprised hand in response to Isaiah, who waved at her from his position just outside it. She slowed the van to a stop and rolled down the window when he took a step closer.

  “What are you doing out here, Clover?” he asked. He looked over to the other guard, who seemed curious but not concerned. “They got you out here all by your lonesome?”

  “Leanne broke her leg.” Clover forced herself to keep her hands on the wheel and not let them fuss with the front of her jumper. “Her good one.”

  “I heard. I didn’t know you could drive. Where’d you learn to do that?” Isaiah stepped a little closer to the van and leaned in enough that Clover felt compelled to lean back. She forced her hands to stay down and not flutter to the syringes against her belly.

  “Leanne taught me.”

  “You always were a quick learner.” He looked back at the other guard again before he added, “They’re doing some roadwork near your house, I hear. My grandma’s been housebound for days.”

  Clover ran her tongue over her upper lip. “Roadwork?”

  “Yep. Be careful over there.”

  Clover nodded and said, “Yeah, I will,” then put the van in gear and drove away. Maybe a little bit too fast. Gravel kicked up under her tires. Isaiah was trying to tell her something, and even though her brain wanted to take him literally and brought up whatever pictures and film she’d ever seen of roadwork, she repeated what he’d said to her over and over so she could tell Jude and West later.

  When she reached her room on the seventh floor of the barracks, she saw Leanne leaning against the wall across from her door. In this time line, Leanne didn’t have a broken leg. She was sidelined by something that would happen to her two years from now. It made Clover’s head swim to try to figure out why she didn’t just not do what would break her leg, since she knew it was coming. She also couldn’t come up with a good reason for her to be in the hallway.

  “Hey, doll,” Leanne said. “Miss me?”

  “I’ve been doing okay on my own.” Clover pulled the key from her pocket and opened her room. She looked at Leanne, whose face had fallen a little, and said, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Bennett asked me to debrief you.”

  They sat together at the round table. The curtain over the window was open, letting in the sun. It took a few minutes for Leanne to debrief her, during which time Clover was barely able to focus on anything but the syringes pressed between her jumper and her T-shirt.

  What if one of the needles poked her?

  What if a syringe broke and the suppressant leaked out?

  What if Leanne tried to hug her and felt them there?

  When Leanne was done with the debriefing, Clover asked, “Aren’t you still recuperating? You know, on the other side.”

  “I was going stir-crazy just sitting in my room waiting for a leg I hadn’t even broken yet to heal.”

  “What have you been doing to keep busy?” It would make her insane to sit in these barracks with nothing to do.

  “Ah, you know.” Leanne hesitated, her forehead wrinkled like she was trying to figure something out in her head, and then she said slowly, “Happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort.”

  Leanne looked at her for a long moment, but Clover didn’t say anything else. She knew that one. It was FDR.

  “Why won’t they let you do you
r job on this side?” Clover asked, with the same kind of uncertainty that she’d heard in Leanne’s voice.

  “I’m not sure. I just know I was benched for a while.”

  “But—”

  Leanne shook her head. “I really don’t know.”

  It didn’t make sense. It was like Bennett wanted Clover to be alone on her missions. Why wasn’t he here, debriefing her himself? Clover was certain that he had questions about West, but he’d sent Leanne to talk to her instead.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Leanne said. “I’m your friend.”

  “Really?” Everything in Clover wanted to believe that.

  “Really.”

  “You’re supposed to ask about my brother, aren’t you?”

  Leanne shrugged one shoulder, just a little. “Is there anything you want to tell Mr. Bennett about him?”

  “No. Why did you quote Roosevelt earlier?” Clover asked. She knew she should be careful. Cautious. But the words tumbled out. “‘Happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort.’ Why did you say that?”

  “It’s true, don’t you think?”

  “That’s not why.”

  Leanne sat still and looked at Clover for a long moment before she pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ll see you soon, Clover. Take care of yourself.”

  Clover was a wreck by the time she made it back to the Dinosaur the next day. Every time she fell asleep, she dreamed about a representative from Foster City coming to collect her. She got up twice, sure there had actually been a knock, but was wrong both times. Was he bluffing? Maybe Bennett had threatened her with Foster City to throw her off. If that was it, he’d done a good job.