by Michael Karr
“That’s just it. He couldn’t use the virus I created to kill someone. Not without immediately revealing that a virus was used. It would have been too risky for him to try it just using my code.”
“So, now you’re saying that you didn’t write the virus?”
“Confusing, I know. And I was confused until just a few moments ago. I managed to sneak into Lander’s lab and access his hidden files. I haven’t fully inspected Lander’s code, but I think I have enough to know what happened. You see, my father is paranoid. Always has been. If you put all your data in one location, it can all be lost…or found, in this case.
“There are two parts—three really—to the virus that’s behind the murders. At any rate, that’s my theory. Apart, they are relatively innocuous. But most of all, wouldn’t draw suspicion. My part of the virus, you already know about. I’ve just discovered what Lander’s part was. It was actually an extension of work one of the engineering teams has been working on for some time. They’ve really been pioneering into a new frontier of PNU engineering.
“I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it deals with controlling the involuntary functions of the body. Heart rate, for example.”
“So, the virus can…speed up someone’s heart?” Rylee asked, failing to grasp the import of this discovery.
“Or slow it down. Slow it down so much that it stops.”
Rylee felt the impact of those words, like they had stopped her own heart. It took her a moment to realize that the car had also stopped. Through the dark tinted windows, she peered out. Faintly, she made out the outlines of familiar buildings. They were in front of her housing unit. Home. She longed for it.
“Why does your father want you dead?” She knew she was better off without an answer to that question, but she wanted to know. What drove a father to want his own son dead?
A bitter-sounding laugh came from Grayson. “What, you find it difficult to believe that someone other than you wants to kill me? I think that’s the first compliment I’ve received from you.”
“Can you just be serious, for once?” Rylee said. “I’m in no mood for your humor.”
“Right, attempting not to be a jerk. Well, he wants me dead for the same reason he wanted Lander dead. Too much liability. If one of us squealed, that would be very bad for my father. Not to mention, killing me would help alleviate any suspicion that he was the culprit. Because, what kind of father could wantonly kill his own son, right?”
“I don’t buy it,” she said. “Your father wouldn’t kill you just so no one would suspect him of the killings. There’s got to be some other reason.”
“That, and I’m excessively annoying, as you already—” He paused. “Right,” he went on. “I’m being serious.” He let out a sigh. “My relationship with my father was never great. I think it has something to do with my mother’s death.”
“Your mother?”
“Most people have them, you know. Well, mine happened to die giving birth to me. It was before Desolation, when there were good hospitals with advanced medical technology. At a time when, at least here, dying through childbirth was extremely rare. But it happened to my mother. Secretly, I believe my father’s always blamed me for her death. If he had had a choice, I know he would have chosen her over me.
“My father’s always like being in control of things. In control of his company back before Desolation. In control of the people around him. In control of the Alliance. I broke his control of things.”
The story left her a bit unsettled. If all Grayson told her was true, then she actually felt sorry for him.
What if Grayson was lying?
“I have to think about this,” she said after several moments of silence. She opened the car door to leave.
“I’m not sleeping on your kitchen floor tonight, then?”
“No,” she replied, then shut the door and strode away from the car.
The frosty night air blasted her as she left the car’s cozy interior. She still wore Adrianna’s dress and the accursed shoes. In all the madness, the shoes had been returned to her. She didn’t remember when that happened, or who brought them. Awkwardly, she ascended the metal fire escape and climbed in through her window.
Her grandfather was long asleep. Not bothering to remove the frilly dress, she threw herself onto her cot and tried to find sleep. All she found were questions swirling in her brain. Around and around they went until she felt dizzy from it. Preston or Grayson? Preston or Grayson?
More than the question themselves, it troubled her that she had to ask the question.
THIRTY-FIVE
Rylee’s first surprise was that she woke up. That implied she’d actually slept during the night. Though, by how tired she felt, it was likely little more than a few hours—if that. A pounding headache urged her to shut her eyes and go back to sleep. But a pounding at her door refused to let her. Where was that pounding coming from? She wished it would stop. Then there was a voice. She barely registered the words. But the voice…
Her grandfather!
The realization jolted her out of her sleepiness as though she’d been electrocuted with a hundred and twenty volts. He would barge in if she didn’t come out soon. Come in and see her still wearing Adrianna’s dress. On top of all else, that was the last thing she needed.
Hurriedly, she shimmied out of the sparkly gold and white lace and satin, and pulled on her spare clothing, trying to think of a good reason why she was wearing them—again.
Stashing the dress under her blanket, she opened her bedroom door. Her grandfather’s gray eyes met her as she entered the kitchen. They immediately took her in. The subtle furrow of his brow told her he noticed something out of place. Her mind raced. Was it just her clothes? Had she forgotten to take something off? Put something on? She looked down, attempting to appear casual, unconcerned. Relieved, she saw that she had pants on.
And then she remembered. The makeup. She hadn’t bothered to wipe away the dark stuff around her eyes, nor the glossy gold on her lips.
“You smell like a bowl of overripe fruit,” her grandfather said, turning his attention back to his breakfast.
Argh! She’d forgotten about the perfume, too. What would she have done about it anyway? Jump in one of the dumpster bins outside? Borrow one of Serghei’s rat-smelling sweatshirts?
“Um…Serghei gave me some new soap he found during one of his scavenging runs,” she said, lying. Her stomach twisted up inside. “I guess it does smell a bit different.”
Her grandfather looked up from his breakfast, just long enough to fix her with a scowl. “I’m no fool, Rylee Day. And I don’t appreciate you lying to me either. Now, sit and eat your breakfast.”
“Just let me run to the bathroom,” she said, turning to leave.
“Fine,” he replied. “But don’t waste time rubbing that mascara from your eyes. I’ve already seen it. When you’re finished, you can come tell me what’s going on.”
Though she inspected her facial appearance in the cloudy and cracked mirror above the sink in the bathroom, she didn’t scrub the makeup from her face. Why bother? Her grandfather had already seen it. And what would be the point of hiding it from anyone in the slums? Sure they would wonder if Rylee was exchanging her body for extra rations. Let them wonder. It was not as if protecting her reputation could save her from the CA.
She was on the brink of tears when she returned to the breakfast table. Her grandfather looked as calm as a windless morning. He continued to eat.
“You’re in trouble,” he said, between bites. It wasn’t a question. Did he suspect the same thing the people of the slums would assume?
She didn’t respond. Nothing she said would matter. It couldn’t fix her problems. He couldn’t fix her problems. Not like he’d been able to do when she was just a little girl. He could fix a scraped knee or a blistered hand. Remove splinters. Build furniture out of garbage. Fix her Harley. Repair the safety on her rifle. Even cut hair—sort of. This was a problem, though, he couldn�
��t fix or mend or repair.
“Well, whatever your problem is,” her grandfather said when he realized she wasn’t going to talk, “starving yourself is not the answer.”
Picking up her fork, Rylee poked at the pile of reconstituted potato flakes on her plate. Her brain told her she ought to be hungry. Ravenous. Her stomach disagreed. Still, she took a bite to appease her grandfather.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” he said after a few moments. “Heaven knows I’ve never been one to be open with my feelings, either. But I want you to know that if I can help you, I’ll do whatever I can.”
Despite herself, Rylee let out a bitter laugh. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”
“That may be true. But there is one who can help, who does understand.” He slid something across the table, closer to her. She didn’t have to look up to know what it was.
A sigh escaped her lips. “Even if there was a God, I think he must have forgotten about us a long time ago.” The last thing she wanted to talk about was her grandfather’s wacky notions about faith. Nonsense—all of it.
“Maybe it’s the other way around.”
“You haven’t forgotten and he hasn’t done any so-called miracles for you. What’s the point?” Why was she even arguing about this? The time she had with her grandfather was limited and precious. She didn’t want to waste it debating about the existence of God.
“Miracles don’t have to be grand or spectacular to be real.”
“I’d like the miracle of having the CA choke on his own tie,” she muttered.
“And you think that would fix everything?”
She shrugged. “It would be a good start.”
“Maybe. But it might not solve as many problems as you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means things could be a lot worse. We have food to eat, a place to sleep, and work to keep our minds busy. That’s more than anyone can hope for in times like these.”
Rylee scooped another bite of the potatoes and shoved them in her mouth, casting her grandfather a dubious look. “Are you kidding me? You think what the CA has done is good? A few days ago, you were inches away from being Deprecated—just because you were too old. Not to mention that while we live in squalor, the Elect go to parties, dine on three-course meals, and can literally get away with murder. So, I fail to see how the CA’s death could not be the best thing that ever happened.”
Her voice had risen to a near shout, so that when she stopped, a heavy silence hung between them. When her grandfather finally replied his voice was calm.
“I’m not saying there’s not injustice. There’s always been injustice of one form or another. I do miss the old days, when we had more freedom. I miss fly fishing on the Skykomish River for salmon in late summer, and eating barbeque. I actually miss mowing my lawn—though I always complained about it.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Now you’ve got me all nostalgic. Look, some men, unless compelled, won’t lift a finger to work for themselves or their family. There can’t be any tolerance for that. Not with how fragile our existence is now. Order. That’s one thing I agree with the CA on—”
“What! You agree with the CA?”
“Now, calm down. I do think his punishments are far too harsh. There ought to be exceptions made for the aged and infirm. But, look, what if something did happen to the CA, who would take his place? Would the new leader be better? And what if the entire Alliance collapsed because the people rose up and rebelled? Would the scavenging routes keep running? Would the fields continue to get tended? How long before we ran out of food?”
“So, you’re saying that what the CA’s done is good?” Rylee couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her own grandfather’s mouth. How could he say such things about that awful monster?
“I’m saying, we should be grateful for what we have now. I don’t like the CA. I’d punch him in the face, if I had the chance. But if something happened to him, I don’t know what would come of it—except for chaos.” Then he looked at her intensely. “If you’re going to fight, though, Rylee Lorraine Day, then you need to know what you’re fighting for and not just what you’re fighting against. And I’m not going to tell you not to fight, because that would be like me telling the wind not to blow.”
There was a pause, and Rylee considered her grandfather’s words. She was having trouble making sense of it all. Did he somehow know her plight? Did he want her to fight?
Her grandfather pushed out his chair from the table and stood, taking his empty plate. “It’s time for work.”
Just like that, their moment was over. It was back to business. Back to life. Back to the mundane. Back to the forced servitude. Work or be Deprecated.
As he always did, her grandfather pulled out his Bible and read a verse, then offered a prayer. Rylee usually ignored the prayers. Today, she listened. Not because she believed, but because she loved her grandfather. And this could be the last time she ever would hear him pray. He prayed for her. He petitioned his god to give her peace and an answer to her problems. By the end, Rylee was fighting back tears.
After he was finished, her grandfather rose from the table, kissed her on the top of her head, and left for work.
A part of her didn’t want him to go, wanted to tell him everything. Force him to make the decision for her. To force him to fix this.
She shook her head. No. That would never do.
The message that pushed itself into her thoughts made her jerk her head up. She still wasn’t used to communicating via her PNU. Not that she wanted to get used to it. At times it was downright disturbing, like having someone implant thoughts into her brain. She knew who the message was from before she accepted it.
Rylee: Serghei, Feng, and I have a plan. Will you come to Serghei’s place?
Grayson. Her heart and her mind were still at war over him. Frankly, she didn’t know what to think or believe. Part of her didn’t know if she could face him again already. Part of her didn’t know if she could stay away. If she stayed away she didn’t have to worry about killing him. If there was no opportunity, it wouldn’t matter what she decided. Then again, now her curiosity was fully piqued. What kind of plan could Feng possibly have agreed to that involved collaboration with Grayson?
The sound of the apartment door closing as her grandfather departed snapped her attention back to the real world. For a few moments, she stared at the door, contemplating.
Work. Why go to work? It’s not like it would keep her from Deprecation. It was time for action—whatever action that was. And she might as well start with hearing Grayson’s plan. Before she left, she grabbed her rifle and her Glock.
THIRTY-SIX
Carmine had requested an hourly report from Commander Harris concerning the activity of Leah—young Steele’s date from last night’s party. In blatant disobedience to Mr. Steele’s request, she ordered Commander Harris to follow the girl as she left the party in one of the CA’s own vehicles. That order had already borne fruit. And it gave Carmine intense satisfaction.
According to the report, the vehicle picked up William Steele shortly after leaving Steele Tower, then proceeded on to the Slum district. There, the girl exited the car and entered into one of the housing units through a window. William Steele did not get out of the car, which drove off heading toward a different portion of the slums.
Carmine reproved herself for lacking the foresight to send out two officers originally. Commander Harris could have sent the other officer to follow the car after the girl exited. The commander did call in one of his patrol officers to locate the vehicle. But William Steele had thus far managed to elude them.
A minor setback. They would find him yet. As long as they continued to follow the girl, Steele would eventually pop back up. Carmine didn’t have any doubts about that.
Thus far, the girl had not left the housing unit. During the night, three other officers joined Commander Harris. Together,
they staked out the girl’s housing unit. Unless the building possessed a secret tunnel out of it, the girl was still inside. Which likely could only mean one thing: the girl lived there. But an Enhanced living in the slums? It didn’t make any sense. It was possible the girl was merely hiding there. Hiding from what, though?
The housing records indicated that the particular apartment the girl was seen climbing into was assigned to one Kenneth Jones and his granddaughter, Rylee Lorraine Day. Unfortunately, the Alliance didn’t keep visual records for the Unenhanced. Carmine wanted a photo of that granddaughter.
Carmine sat up straighter and breathed in deeply, forcing herself to remain calm. Patience would be her ally. But it was difficult to remain patient when a flood of suspicious evidence linked to the CA was flooding in. Evidence she fully intended to use against Nathaniel Steele. Make him pay for his insults.
She took another breath.
Not yet. They had not found anything condemning…yet. It would come, though. She felt it.
Though there was little information about this grandfather and his granddaughter, one of the investigators had noticed that the grandfather should have been Deprecated during the last round of Deprecations. A mere oversight, or something more? Their records indicated that he was indeed on the list.
Something was definitely going on there. And she would get to the bottom of it.
A smile touched her lips. Now, she would prove her worth.
Only one thing troubled her about the girl from the party. The CA went out of his way to keep Carmine from doing her job, demanding she leave the girl alone. It was almost as if he were goading her. Did he actually want her to follow the girl? If so, why?
A PNU notification interrupted her thoughts. It was from Commander Harris. Another report. It came in without her explicit acceptance of the communication, as she’d previously granted his messages priority access.
Commander Harris reporting. The target has been spotted leaving the housing unit. She is dressed…shabbily. Transmitting live visual.