The general nodded. “We must move quickly to lock down all munitions in the area, before the prophets realize what’s happening. Where would you like us to take you?”
I knew I needed to meet up with Zack and Dawn, but I had no idea where we could go that would be safe.
“You tell me,” I said carefully. “Great Spirit brought me to you. I believe you’re the one who can tell me where is safest.”
She considered a moment. “The Outcast city, near the coast. You’ll be welcome there, and there should be enough resources to house our forces.”
I smiled, remembering its gleaming silvery towers. We were on our way back to Redenção.
8
We left the barracks at midday; I rode in the lead vessel with the general and lieutenant, a few other ships cruising behind us. I was desperate not to blow my cover, but thankfully, these two tough military brass seemed to be fully converted, hanging on my every word. By now I’d learned I could get away with a lot as a prophet through silence, by listening with compassion instead of talking, a skill I’d learned by watching my dad. The more I made the people around me feel special, the less likely they were to notice I wasn’t special at all.
As we approached the meeting point, a small recharging station in a rural village, I saw Zack and Dawn waiting with two boats full of nervous, shaking Outcasts. The size of our approaching fleet was clearly scaring the pants off my friends. I gave them a we’re okay wave and they visibly relaxed.
As Zack hopped onto our military vessel, he pulled me aside with a hushed tone. “What happened?”
I whispered back, a little sarcastically. “Need a nuclear weapon? I’ve got one.”
His jaw dropped. “What?”
“As long as they’re believers, we’ve got an army.”
Zack’s face took on a troubled look, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his concerns. The Outcasts from our camp were trying to swarm the military boat to see me, and the soldiers were instinctively wary, trying to fend them off—still in their old mind-set of Outcast equals Bad. I hurried over to play referee.
“Ride along behind us,” I told my followers. “We’ll meet you in Redenção.” They acquiesced, and we were off.
The farther we traveled down the Amazon, the more boats joined our pack. Military ships from all over the country, all under the command of General Feliciano, along with civilian craft: Outcasts who’d heard about us and simply wanted to travel along.
I felt simultaneously protected and vulnerable. Clearly word was spreading of our movements, and our giant party must be easily visible from any satellite. As the days ticked by, my nerves frayed more and more. By now, the prophets must have noticed all these unscheduled troop movements . . . were we about to encounter some opposing army? And if we did . . . would I have to talk these soldiers into using violence after all?
My stomach churned thinking of the kind of weapons we might be traveling with. Chemical, biological, nuclear. What kind of havoc could I wreak, if I really wanted to? The general seemed assured of our safe passage, so I tried to stay calm as well. If she sensed my fear, it might make her suspicious and put us in more danger.
I’d gotten used to the adoring looks of all the strangers aboard this ship, so I was thrown to see a face scowling at me in the galley as I ate my dinner. Macy. “Hey,” I said, greeting her warmly, though her expression stayed cold.
“I’ve come to hear more about Great Spirit,” she said with mock adoration, her voice dripping with disdain.
My stomach swirled into an anxious knot. “Zack told you the truth. I’m sorry . . .”
Feelings of betrayal seeped from her pores. “You lied to my face.”
“To save your life. He told you that part, right?”
She was not placated. “I went on TV, saying how great you were . . . You convinced me to lie to the whole world . . .”
“I get it, I bought into the Revelations, too. We’ve all been lied to . . .” I protested.
“Not by our best friends,” she said forcefully.
“I’m almost done lying, I promise,” I insisted. “Once we can remove the nanotech on a worldwide scale, we can reveal the truth.”
“No, you can’t,” Macy blurted out.
“Why not?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.
She stared me down, pity in her eyes. “You really think you can tell people and they’ll just be, like, ‘okay, cool’? Especially these guys?” She gestured to the army around us. “I heard what kind of weapons they have.”
“I know, I’ve been worried about that, too,” I admitted. “I’ll wait till we’re out of the line of fire, if I can.”
Macy was unrelenting. “No one will understand. I was your best friend, and I don’t understand. Everyone thinks they would have been strong enough to survive learning the truth. The world will literally crucify you, and no, I am not trying to say you’re an actual messiah. You’re a liar.”
Though my guilt at deceiving Macy had been weighing on me for weeks, I hadn’t expected her reaction to be so strong. It bowled me over, knocked the breath out of me. “A liar for the greater good . . .” I said defensively. I hated having people be mad at me, especially my closest friend.
“Why are you the one who gets to decide what the greater good is?” she spat back. “Or maybe you do think you’re the messiah after all . . .”
“I don’t think I’m the messiah. I’m sorry . . .”
Before I could say anything else, she picked up her tray and left me alone. Seeing an opening, a group of nearby soldiers swarmed my table, eager to ask me questions. I smiled politely at them, sinking into my shame. Macy had only confirmed all the emotions that were already haunting me. I knew that lying and manipulating people was wrong, but I kept doing it anyway.
I tried to put those feelings away. We’d sacrificed lives for the sake of our cause . . . I should be prepared to sacrifice friendships, too. But still, I watched Macy leave the room with heaviness in my heart, wondering if she was right.
“Prophet Grace, why do bad things happen to good people?” a stranger asked me.
I put on a smile, and I kept lying.
A few days into our journey, Dawn boarded my ship and cornered me alone. “I have some bad news.”
We’d had so much bad news already, I couldn’t bear to hear more. “What now?”
“The device is broken.”
The horror overwhelmed me. “Broken?”
She shrugged. “A swim in the Amazon will do that.”
My face burned with the shame of knowing I was the one who hadn’t been careful enough with it. I was the reason it was broken—another mistake, another burden that was mine to carry. “I’m so sorry . . .” I began.
Dawn interrupted me. “It was a good trade. You got us an army. Now we just have to keep them on our side.” She smiled at me tentatively, a peace offering after our earlier quarrel. An admission that maybe I was in fact contributing to our cause.
“I could try again to tell them the truth,” I ventured. “They have the pills.”
“Which is good. We can restart our manufacturing facilities when we get to Redenção. But we won’t be able to remove anyone’s nanotech until we fix the device. Or acquire another one.”
“Another one?” My mind swirled—how on earth were we going to find another device like that? Without it, we were back to where we’d been before—rescuing people one at a time, with a long-term diet of pharmaceuticals.
Dawn saw my concern and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. You’re doing good. Just keep playing Prophet Grace for now, we’ll figure something out.” Her reassurance gave me hope. We had to focus on the battle still ahead.
Before I knew it, the river gave way to ocean, and I marveled at the great expanse of blue stretching out before us like a dimpled marble. The water out here was choppier, tossing even our big boat enough to make me nauseated.
But early the next morning, the shimmering beacon of Redenção on the horizon made my heart soar
. As we pulled closer, I could see dozens of military ships in position already. The city was ours.
9
Before we’d even disembarked, the mayor arrived at our ship to greet us once again and offer his assistance. “We are so grateful for and blessed by your speedy return,” he crowed, kissing my hand. As he did, I saw his face change, just from the natural high of brain chemicals, after coming into contact with a supposedly divine presence. I hoped as many military officers as possible had seen our exchange; I needed to perform as many “miracles” as I could to keep these guys on my side.
The apartment the mayor provided us was luxurious: three floors and seven bedrooms, meant to fit the ever-growing ranks of the resistance. I hoped someday we’d fill it to the brim. It was just a few blocks from where my navy had taken up residence—which meant General Feliciano was right around the corner if we needed a cup of sugar, or to call for a nuclear strike.
As my friends and I entered our palatial apartment, we spread out through the massive halls, trying to get our bearings. Every room was packed full of gifts—clothes, electronics, anything the citizens of Redenção thought might curry favor with the prophet.
Macy ran up and down the long halls like a gleeful little kid, slipping and sliding on the marble floors. “Being in the prophet’s entourage is the best,” she declared.
I laughed, glad the ice was finally thawing between us. “One fancy house, and all’s forgiven?” Her stony expression implied it wasn’t time to joke just yet, and certainly made it clear that nothing was forgiven.
As Macy retreated to claim a third-floor room, the rest of us converged to make a plan. “The mayor has cut off all communications from inside the city,” Dawn explained. “No one needs to know we’re here.”
I cleared my throat nervously. “Actually, I think you should tell him to take that back.”
Dawn looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you have a death wish?”
I stood my ground. “No, but I have an army. I think we should broadcast our location. The prophets must know by now anyway, and we need to show a strong face. Bluff that we can’t be taken down.”
“And if they call that bluff?” Zack warned.
I turned back to Dawn, resolute. “We finally got what you wanted—a safe haven for the resistance to operate from. Only this time, we don’t just have the truth on our side, we have nuclear weapons.”
“That you won’t fire,” Dr. Marko pointed out. I’d certainly made my peacenik views clear to the general.
I shook my head. “We’ll never need to fire a shot, so long as everyone else thinks we will.”
“Mutually assured destruction, 2035 style,” Zack muttered.
Dr. Marko spoke up, “My old partner Dr. Smith might be able to help me replicate the broken nanofabricator, if she can find us.”
I looked to Dawn eagerly. “Wherever Dr. Smith is, if she sees we’re here and safe, she’ll come. Everyone will.”
“Maybe even Irene,” Dr. Marko said, trying to help, but I wasn’t sure invoking Dawn’s missing wife would win me any goodwill.
“And Jude,” Zack said pointedly. Was that jealousy in his voice? Would he really be jealous of me trying to rescue the rest of the resistance? Just the mention of Jude’s name hollowed out an empty spot in my heart . . . the longer I was apart from him, not knowing his fate, the larger and more painful it grew.
Dawn looked me dead in the eyes. “You need to be very careful about what you say from now on. Everything you do will be broadcast to the world, every detail scrutinized.”
I grinned. “So that’s a yes.”
She looked around the room for a consensus. Zack seemed skeptical, but he shrugged along with the rest of our nods. Dawn’s voice was grave. “Let’s bring our friends home.”
10
I stared into the camera Dawn pointed at me, imagining the prophets on the other end who would be listening to my message. “We’re here,” I told them. “Anyone who believes in us is welcome in Redenção. And to my supporters who can’t make it all the way to Brazil, know that I’m watching over you. I will do everything in my power to protect you from those who seek to harm you.” And to the prophets, an unspoken threat—don’t mess with us. My heartbeat felt out of control, like I’d just run a marathon, even though I was just sitting in our living room.
“We’ll get this posted right away,” Dawn promised.
As she moved off, Zack took my hand. “I guess we’ll see if this works,” he said. I could tell he was trying to hide his skepticism for my benefit, though not as well as he thought.
I expected messages to pour in right away, and they did . . . but not from anyone I cared to hear from. We quickly had to disable the comments on our video because of all the hateful rhetoric from devoted adherents to the other prophets, directed both at me and at those supporting me. We also received plenty of positive feedback from my little cult, but I forced myself to ignore that, too. I couldn’t answer every response, and I was afraid to put too much out there for people to analyze and misinterpret. So I ignored everything, and we waited. Where was Jude? Where were the rest of our allies? Hours ticked by, and then days.
And that was when the flood began.
On the edges of the city, Outcasts from around the world began to converge: pilgrims attracted by the news of my presence. Tents popped up like weeds, and unfamiliar faces roamed the streets, eager and gaunt from the journey. Some had traveled hundreds, thousands of miles. Quit jobs, left families. They believed they’d been called here.
With soldiers flanking me, I roamed the streets of Redenção, examining the faces of these newcomers. Could any resistance members be hiding among the pilgrims? But achingly, I saw no one I recognized—our friends were still missing in action.
“Where is everyone?” I asked Dawn as we canvassed block after block. “Shouldn’t they be contacting us?”
“They will,” she said confidently. But I knew we were both thinking the same devastating thought. If anyone was still alive in that underground city in Turkey, we should have heard from them by now. The hollow space in my heart felt raw . . . I wasn’t ready to mourn Jude, not yet. I still had to hold out some hope he’d find his way back to me.
Meanwhile, my video had ignited Redenção. The location of our apartment had been discovered and publicized, leading hundreds of people to camp out, day and night, waiting for a glimpse of me. As I returned from searching for our friends, they nearly tackled me, grabbing at my hands, shouting their love.
I recognized one of the camped-out Outcasts as Felipe, the restauranteur who’d joined us in the rainforest. He saw me looking at him and pushed through the crowd. “Grace, you remember me?”
“Yeah, Felipe, I remember you,” I said, and he beamed with joy.
“I have a club, many clubs. Any night you want to come by, everything is free.” He pressed his business card into my hand, as my bodyguards pulled me away from him. “You see,” he called out to his friend, “I know her!”
I retreated back into the safety of our living room, stunned and shaking. “They’re hounding us, everywhere we go,” I stammered.
Dr. Marko went to the window to inspect my ever-growing fan club stationed outside. “Maybe they’re just here for me.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
Dawn just smiled wryly. “Enjoy it.”
“Enjoy it?” I asked, incredulous.
“The more they love you, the more protected we are. Go, prophesize, play the part. And have fun.”
Once again, I heard the dark undercurrent in her voice. Have fun now. Bad news might be coming.
11
After just a few days of exploring, I decided Redenção was my favorite place on earth. It had once been a sleepy beach town, catering mostly to wealthy Brazilians. But after the Revelations, as Outcasts started to set up camp along its beachfronts, tourists got skittish, worried about crime and scandalized by the black markets cropping up. That was just fine with the town’s new residents—as
their neighbors fled, my new friends saw an opportunity to build a city all their own. And as word had spread of the thriving Outcast community on the northeast coast of Brazil, others from all over the world had poured in.
As the population grew, the city became more self-reliant; they no longer had to import architects and doctors and plumbers from the outside world: plenty of Outcasts had held those professions before the Revelations. And the more the city thrived, the harder its residents fought to improve it, and to protect it from non-Outcast outsiders. By the time I arrived, more than two million Outcasts had clustered into gleaming silver skyscrapers—and every single one of them worshipped me.
Once I got used to the constant, ever-rotating entourage of devotees following behind us, the city opened up to me. Everyone was eager to show me around, to make sure I was having a good time. Little girls handed me homemade paper jewelry, while college kids guided us to the most popular nightlife in town, where we could dance till dawn with a few of our two million new best friends. Felipe wasn’t the only club owner willing to roll out the red carpet for me and my entourage. Though Macy initially refused to leave her room, still annoyed with us for lying to her, eventually even she was drawn in by Redenção’s charms.
During the day, every block pulsed with dance beats; different immigrant cultures had fused together to make new styles of music—Jamaican drums mixed with lyrical Balinese melodies. The buildings were simple, practical, adorned with quirky street art. And everywhere we went, I got the prophet’s treatment: food was free, entertainment was free—it was like a paradise built just for us.
And next to me, through it all, was Zack, who had taken somewhat uneasily to our new life. He seemed restless; while initially he had just been relieved to be alive, safe from the clutches of his former employers at the CIA, it was increasingly clear that he hated being penned in, not being in control of our destiny. When he’d imagined himself working with the resistance, it had been as a double agent, a fighter, a hero . . . not playing house with me in a city full of strangers.
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