by Lu, Marie
My blood is racing so fast I can barely hear myself speak. “Why would Razor sell out the Patriots like that? Hasn’t he been with them for a decade? And I thought Congress was trying not to cause a revolution.”
Kaede slumps her shoulders and lets out a breath of steam. “He got caught working for the Patriots a couple of years ago. So he made a deal with Congress: He leads the Patriots into killing Anden, the young revolutionary spitfire, and Congress forgets about his traitorous ties. At the end of it all, Razor gets to be the new Elector—and with you and June working for him, he comes off like the people’s hero or something. The public would think that the Patriots took over the government, when it’s really only the Republic all over again. Razor doesn’t want the United States to be restored—he just wants to preserve himself. And he’ll join whatever side’s most convenient to achieve that.”
I close my eyes. My world is spinning. Hadn’t June warned me about Razor? All this time, I’ve been working for the Republic’s Senators. They’re the ones who want Anden dead. No wonder the Colonies don’t seem to have any idea what the Patriots are up to. Then I open my eyes. “But they failed,” I say. “Anden is still alive.”
“Anden is still alive,” Kaede repeats. “Thankfully.”
I should have trusted June all along. My anger toward the young Elector shudders and trembles, grows weak. Does this mean . . . that he actually did release Eden? Is my brother free and safe? I study Kaede. “You came all the way here to tell me that?” I whisper.
“Yup. Know why?” She leans closer, until her nose is almost touching mine. “Anden is about to lose his grip on the country. The people are this close to revolting against him.” She holds two fingers close together. “If he falls, we’re gonna have a lot of trouble stopping Razor from taking over the Republic. Right now, Anden’s fighting for control of the military while Razor and Commander Jameson are trying to wrestle it away from him. The government’s about to split in two.”
“Wait—Commander Jameson?” I ask.
“There was a chat transcript recorded between her and Razor on that comp drive. Remember how we ran into her on board the RS Dynasty?” Kaede replies. “Razor made it sound like he had no idea she’d be there. But I think she totally recognized you. She must’ve wanted to see you with her own eyes. To know that you were truly a part of Razor’s plans.” Kaede grimaces. “I should’ve sensed something off about Razor. I was wrong about Anden too.”
“Why do you care what happens to the Republic?” I say. The wind whips snow flurries up from the street, echoing the coldness in my words. “And why now?”
“I was in it for the money—I admit that.” Kaede shakes her head and sets her mouth in a tight line. “But first of all—I didn’t get paid, because the plan didn’t go off. Second, I didn’t sign up to destroy the country, to hand all the Republic’s civilians right back to another goddy Elector.” Then she trails off a little, and her eyes go misty. “I don’t know . . . maybe I was hoping that the Patriots could give me a nobler goal than making money. Joining these two cracked nations back together. That would’ve been nice.”
The winter wind stings my face. Kaede doesn’t need to tell me why she came all the way here to get me. After hearing this, I know why. I remember what Tess said to me back in Lamar. They’re all looking to you, Day. They’re waiting for your next move. I might be the only person who can save Anden now. I am the only person that the Republic’s people will listen to.
We fall silent and sink farther into the shadows as a pair of Colonies police guards rush by. Snow flies underneath their boots. I watch until they disappear down the last alley we’d come through. Where are they going?
When Kaede just continues walking with her scarf covering her mouth again, I say, “What about the Colonies?”
“What about them?” she mutters through fabric.
“What about letting the Republic collapse and the Colonies take over? What about that idea?”
“It was never about letting the Colonies win. The Patriots are about re-creating the United States. However that can be accomplished.” Kaede pauses, then motions for us to turn down a different street. We walk two more blocks before she stops us in front of an enormous row of dilapidated buildings.
“What’s this?” I ask Kaede, but she doesn’t respond. I turn back to the building in front of me. It’s about thirty or so stories tall, but stretches unbroken for several city blocks. Every few dozen yards, tiny, dark entrances are carved into the compound’s bottom floor. Water drips from the sides, from windows and decaying balconies, carving ugly lines of fungus into the walls. The structure stretches on down the street from where we stand—from the sky it must look like a gigantic black cinder block.
I gape at it. After seeing the lights of the Colonies’ skyscrapers, it’s shocking to know that a building like this exists over here. I’ve seen abandoned Republic complexes that look better than this. The windows and corridors are squeezed so closely together that no light could possibly get down to the bottom. I peer inside one of the black entrances.
Darkness, nothing. The sound of dripping water and faint footsteps echoes from inside. Now and then, I see a flickering light go by, as if someone’s in there with a lantern. I peer up at the higher floors. Most of the windows are cracked and shattered, or missing altogether. Some of them have plastic taped across the opening. Old pots on the balconies catch dripping water, and several have lines of tattered clothing hanging off the ledges. There must be people living in there. But the thought makes me shiver. I look back once at the glittering skyscrapers on the block right behind us, then forward at this rotting cement structure.
A commotion at the end of the street catches our attention. I tear my eyes away from the compound. A block down, there’s a middle-aged woman in men’s boots and a shabby coat pleading at the top of her lungs with a pair of men dressed in heavy plastic gear. Both have clear visors covering their faces and large, wide-brimmed hats on their heads.
“Watch,” Kaede whispers. Then she drags us into one of the dark entrances between two doors on the compound’s ground level. We lean our heads slightly so that we can hear what’s going on. Even though they’re fairly far away, the woman’s voice carries clearly across the quiet, icy air.
“—just missed one payment this year,” the woman’s saying. “I can run to the bank first thing in the morning and give you as many Notes as I have—”
One of the men interrupts her. “DesCon policy, ma’am. We cannot investigate crimes for customers who have been delinquent on payments to their local police.”
The woman is in tears, wringing her hands so hard that I feel like she’s going to rub her skin right off. “There must be something you can do,” she says. “Something I can give you or another police department I—”
The second man shakes his head. “All police departments share DesCon’s policy. Who’s your employer?”
“Cloud Corp,” the woman says hopefully. As if this info might persuade them to help her.
“Cloud Corp discourages its workers from being out past eleven P.M.” He nods up at the compound. “If you don’t return to your home, DesCon Corp will report you to Cloud and you might lose your job.”
“But they’ve stolen everything I have!” The woman breaks into loud sobs. “My door is completely—completely bashed in—all of my food and clothes are gone. The men who did it live on my floor—if you please come with me, you can catch them—I know which apartment they live in—”
The two men have already started walking away. The woman scampers behind them, begging for help, even as they keep ignoring her.
“But my home—if you don’t do something—how will I—” she keeps saying. The men repeat their warnings to report her.
After they’re gone, I turn back to Kaede. “What was that?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?” Kaede replies sarcastically as we step out from
the building’s darkness and back into the street.
We’re quiet. Finally, Kaede says, “The working class gets shafted everywhere, don’t they? My point is this: The Colonies are better than the Republic in some ways. But believe it or not, the reverse is also true. No such thing as the stupid utopia you’ve been fantasizing about, Day. Doesn’t exist. There was no point trying to tell you that before. It’s just something you had to see for yourself.”
We start heading back to the hospital. Two more Colonies soldiers hurry past us, neither of them bothering to take us in. A million thoughts whirl through my head. My father must never have set foot inside the Colonies—or if he did, he only skimmed the surface of it, the way June and I had when we first arrived. A lump rises in my throat.
“Do you trust Anden?” I say after a moment. “Is he worth saving? Is the Republic worth saving?”
Kaede makes several more turns. Finally, she stops next to a shop with miniature screens in its window, each one broadcasting different Colonies programming. Kaede guides us into the store’s tiny side street, where the darkness of the night swallows us. She pauses to motion at the broadcasting screens inside the store. I remember passing a shop like this on our way into the city. “The Colonies always show news snatched from Republic airwaves,” she says. “They have a whole channel for it. This news bite has been on repeat ever since the failed assassination.”
My eyes wander over to the headlines on the monitor. At first I just stare blankly, lost in my churning thoughts about the Patriots, but a moment later I realize that the broadcast isn’t about warfront skirmishes or Colonies news, but about the Republic’s Elector. A surge of dislike instinctively courses through me at the sight of Anden on the screen. I strain to hear the newscast, wondering how differently the Colonies would interpret the same events.
A caption runs under Anden’s recorded address. I read it in disbelief.
ELECTOR FREES YOUNGER BROTHER OF NOTORIOUS REBEL “DAY”; TO ADDRESS PUBLIC TOMORROW FROM CAPITOL TOWER.
“As of today,” the Elector says in a prerecorded video, “Eden Bataar Wing is officially freed from military service and, as thanks for his contributions, exempt from the Trials. All others being transported along the warfront have been released to their families as well.”
I have to rub my eyes and read the captions again.
They’re still there. The Elector has freed Eden.
Suddenly I can’t feel the cold air anymore. I can’t feel anything. My legs feel weak. My breath keeps time with the hammering of my heart. This can’t be right. The Elector is probably announcing this publicly so he can lure me back into the Republic and into his service. He’s trying to trick me and make himself look good. There’s no way he would’ve released Eden—and all the others, the boy I’d seen on the train—of his own accord. No possible way.
No possible way? Even after everything June had told me, even after what Kaede just said? Even now, I don’t trust Anden? What’s wrong with me?
Then, as I continue watching, the Elector’s recorded address makes way for a video showing Eden being escorted out of a courthouse, shackle-free and dressed in clothes that usually belong on the child of an elite family.
His blond curls are neatly brushed. He searches the streets with blind eyes, but he’s smiling. I push my hand deeper into the snow in an attempt to steady myself. Eden looks healthy, well taken care of. When was this filmed?
Anden’s newscast finally ends, and now the video shows footage of the failed assassination attempt followed by a reel of warfront battles. The captions are wildly different from what I’d see in the Republic.
FAILED ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON REPUBLIC’S NEW ELECTOR PRIMO, THE LATEST SIGN OF UNREST IN REPUBLIC
The caption is wrapped up by a smaller line in the corner of the screen that says THIS BROADCAST BROUGHT TO YOU BY EVERGREEN ENT. The now-familiar circular symbol is beside it.
“Make up your own mind about Anden,” Kaede mutters. She stops to wipe snowflakes off her eyelashes.
I was wrong. The certainty of this sits in my stomach like a dead weight, a rock of guilt for turning so viciously on June when she’d tried to explain all of it to me in the underground shelter. The awful things I’d said to her. I think of the strange, unsettling ads I’ve seen here, the crumbling living quarters of the poor, the disappointment I feel in knowing that the Colonies aren’t the shining beacon my father imagined. His dream of glittering skyscrapers and a better life was just that.
I remember my dream of what I’d do after all this was over . . . run into the Colonies with June, Tess, Eden . . . start a new life, leave the Republic behind. Maybe I’ve been trying to escape to the wrong place and run away from the wrong things. I think of all the times I clashed with soldiers. The hatred I had for Anden and everyone who grew up rich. Then I picture the slums that I’d grown up in. I despise the Republic, don’t I? I want to see them collapse, yeah? But only now do I make the distinction—I despise the Republic’s laws, but I love the Republic itself. I love the people. I’m not just doing this for the Elector; I’m doing this for them.
“Are the speakers at the Capitol Tower still hooked up to the JumboTrons?” I ask Kaede.
“As far as I know, yeah,” she replies. “With all the commotion over the last forty-eight hours, no one’s noticed the modified wiring.”
My eyes go to the rooftops, where fighter jets lie in wait. “Are you as good of a pilot as you say?” I ask.
Kaede shrugs her shoulders and grins. “Better.”
Slowly, a plan starts to form in my mind.
Another pair of Colonies soldiers runs by. This time, an unsettling feeling creeps down my neck. These soldiers, like the last ones, also turn down the alley we’d come through. I make sure there are no more coming, then hurry out into the darkness of the street. No, no. Not now.
Kaede follows close behind. “What is it?” she whispers. “You just turned as white as a goddy snowstorm.”
I’d left her alone and vulnerable in a place I once thought would be our safe haven. I’d left her to the wolves. And if something happens to her now because of me . . . I break into a run. “I think they’re heading toward the hospital,” I say. “For June.”
I SNAP OUT OF MY DREAM, LIFT MY HEAD, AND MY EYES sweep the area. The illusion of Metias vanishes. I’m in a hospital room, and Day is nowhere to be seen. It’s the middle of the night. Hadn’t we been in here earlier? I have a vague recollection of Day at my bedside, and Day stepping out onto the balcony to greet a cheering crowd. Now he’s not here. Where did he go?
It takes me another second, light-headed as I am, to figure out what woke me up. I am not alone in the room. There are half a dozen Colonies soldiers in here. A tall soldier with long red hair hoists her gun and points it at me.
“That’s the one?” she asks, keeping me in her line of fire.
An older male soldier nods. “Yup. Didn’t know Day was hiding a Republic soldier. This girl is none other than June Iparis. The Republic’s most well-known prodigy. DesCon Corp will be happy. This prisoner’s going to be worth a lot of money.” He gives me a cold smile. “Now, my dear. Tell us where Day went.”
* * *
Sixteen minutes have passed. The soldiers have secured my hands behind my back with a temporary set of cuffs. My mouth is gagged. Three of them stand near the room’s open door, while the others guard the balcony. I groan. Even though my fever is gone and my joints don’t ache, my head still feels dizzy. (Where did Day go?)
One of the soldiers talks into an earpiece. “Yes,” he says. A pause, and then, “We’re moving her to a cell. DesCon’s going to get a lot of good info out of this one. We’ll send Day along for questioning once we get hold of him.” Another soldier is holding the door open with his boot. They’re waiting for a gurney to arrive, I realize, so they can take me away. That means I probably have less than two or three minutes to get my
self out of this.
I clench down on my gag, force down my nausea, and swallow. My thoughts and memories are getting jumbled up. I blink, wondering if I’m hallucinating. The Patriots are being sponsored by the Republic. Why didn’t I see that earlier? It was so obvious, right from the beginning—the elaborate furnishings in the apartment, how easily Razor could get us from place to place without getting caught.
Now I watch the soldier continue to talk into his earpiece. How do I warn Day now? He must have left through the balcony doors—when he comes back, I’ll be gone and they’ll be here, ready to question him. They might even think we’re Republic spies. I run a finger repeatedly across my paper clip ring.
The paper clip ring.
My finger stops moving. Then I inch it gradually off my ring finger behind my back and try to unfurl its spiraling metal wires. A soldier glances at me, but I close my eyes and let out a soft moan of pain through my gag. He returns to his conversation. I let my fingers run down the spiraling ring and pull it straight. The paper clips were twisted six times. I unfurl the first two. Then I straighten out the rest of the paper clip and bend it into what I hope is a stretched-out Z shape. The movement makes both of my arms cramp painfully.
Suddenly one of the balcony soldiers stops talking to check the streets below. He stays like that for a while, his eyes searching. If he heard Day, Day must have vanished again. The soldier scrutinizes the roofs, then loses interest and goes back into his stance. Far down the hospital corridor, I hear people talking and the unmistakable sound of wheels against the tiled floor. They’re bringing the gurney.
I have to hurry. I insert one, then two of the bent paper clips into the lock on my cuffs. My arms are killing me, but I don’t have time to rest them. Gingerly I push one of the wires around in the lock, feeling it scrape against the lock’s interior until it finally hits the tumbler. I twist the paper clip, pushing the tumbler aside.