Repossession (The Keepers Trilogy)

by Rachael Wade

  I moved forward in Jet’s defense, squeezing my way around the table. “I wonder why that is, huh? Did you ever stop and ask that question? Desperate people volunteer to serve. Before you start pointing fingers, maybe you should think about that.”

  The woman reaming out Jet glared at me, leaning forward across the table. “Like we should listen to you. Your boyfriend here told us how you two met. Why would a prisoner, collected by this traitor, be defending their captor? For all we know, you two are in collusion with the enemy. Maybe you were sent to uncover Black Hole locations. Maybe you’re the reason we’ve been losing so many Holes recently. You can’t just waltz in here and expect to join our movement like this.”

  Jet gritted his teeth. “I told you that so you’d understand whose side we’re on.”

  “People, listen up!” Kale shouted, standing to his feet. “Jet comes from the inside: just like Porter, just like Kavinsky and a dozen others who changed their mind or escaped and joined our movement to fight back. This is no different.”

  “This is different, Kale,” the woman insisted. “They had to prove their loyalty. Worked with us for weeks before we brought them with us on a mission. You want to drag this guy and his girlfriend along for a crucial recon, two days from now? You’re putting everything at risk here. Remember what happened with Marcus? He ran back to them, had himself reimplanted. Told the bastards everything—locations, times, objective. We cannot risk that ever again. We can’t take in any more service dropouts!”

  The ruckus in the room grew even noisier, the brawl making my head spin. A loud bang cut the argument short, the metal door in the corner slamming angrily.

  “That’s enough,” a gravelly voice said. “Who are these dropouts you speak of?”

  The woman at the center of the argument turned to face the source of the voice—a short, middle-aged man with a long black ponytail. His skin was tan and wrinkled; a jagged scar sliced across his left cheek. “These two,” she said, eyeing Jet and me.

  The man came to stand in front of her, placing his palms face down on the table. Slowly, he lifted a hand and extended a shake to Jet, then me. “I’m Rico. What do you know of the inside?”

  “What do you want to know?” Jet asked.

  “Whatever you’ve got.”

  “I know what happens to the Collected. I know lab locations, prison codes, and a little about the children’s camps on the west coast.”

  “Have you been inside one of those labs?”

  “Yes.”

  “So have we.” Rico’s gaze lowered to the table; his palms gripped the edge tight. “Our little rebel groups, as I overheard you refer to them as a few seconds ago, have not only been inside some of those labs, they’ve made it all the way to Central Control. Only once, but enough to know that what’s happening here is much bigger than all of us.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Damn right it’s impressive,” Rico said. “But we need to know more. We need to go back with enough manpower to put Central Control on lockdown. So we have time to make our move. That’s the next step.”

  Jet stood and crossed his arms, leveling his gaze with Rico. “How exactly do you intend to take them down? What will help you if you gain access to Central Control? Even if you have access, only the Invaders can operate the technology—we can’t read their language, and it’s all over their panels and strategy maps.”

  “We don’t need to operate their technology. We need them to.” Rico looked at Jet sternly, then turned to the pegboard on the wall, smoothing his dirt-caked fingers over the collection of maps and blueprints. “Each coastal base station they’ve set up houses a Central Control station. We’ve seen the inside of C1—the Central Control station in New Orleans. In California, there are three bases.” He pointed to California, clunking his knuckle on each red X, one by one. “Word from our allies has confirmed that only one of those three—San Francisco—houses the Capsules for the Sacred Seven. This same location also possesses the strongest children’s workforce, which further confirms that the Invaders are paying special attention to guarding this particular base. This is the Central Control station we need access to. It takes priority over all. Our mission is to gain entry, gather the activated Sacred Seven, then force them to bring their own kind down before we execute them. They can read the language and operate the control panel. If the Invaders don’t have the Seven, they can’t follow through with their plan. Crash and burn, baby.”

  For the most part, I’d followed him, but one thing he said confused me. I said, “Sacred Seven? What are the Sacred Seven?”

  “The Shepherds,” Kale elaborated. “The Head Keepers of Prototype Seven.”

  “Come again?” Jet said, his brow furrowed, clearly as confused as I was.

  Kale chuckled, exchanging pleased glances with Rico. “For being an ex-insider, you really don’t know much, do you?”

  “I was a prison guard. A Collector. I’m familiar with ground combat and weaponry, capture strategies, prison operations … shit like that. All of this is Greek to me.”

  “See, Thelma?” Kale cocked a brow at the woman who had been arguing with Jet before. “Nothing to worry about here.”

  She huffed and mumbled something under her breath, but didn’t comment further. Rico grunted and gestured to Jet’s chair. “You might want to take a seat there, brother.”

  “No. I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “Like most Keeper Agents, the Sacred Seven are preselected. We call them the Shepherds. They’re human, here on our planet, designed to activate upon invasion. Only their purpose is far greater. They all must be activated before they can complete their task for the Invaders—the most important task on the Invaders’ agenda. The activation process can be delayed based on the Shepherd’s willingness, though. They can resist the pull, which can slow things down. They can’t resist for long, though. The activation is too strong.”

  Up until now, I’d mostly been observing, quietly taking it all in. Now my ears were burning with the need to know. “What task?”

  “To seize control of and lead Prototype Seven—also known as our Earth.”

  The burning desire to soak up this knowledge increased, stinging my temples with innate need. “Why call Earth ‘Prototype Seven’ … am I missing something?”

  Kale and Rico went still, their expressions suddenly guarded. “Go on,” Rico said to Kale, plopping down in a chair. “You do the honors.”

  Kale crossed his arms and inhaled a deep breath. “We call it Prototype Seven because it’s exactly that—the seventh prototype. A model.”

  “A model of what?”

  “Skylla,” he chuckled, sending me a sympathetic glance, “you don’t honestly think this is the only Earth, do you?”

  Jet straightened beside me. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Sorry, it’s just … a lot of people in the Underground already know about this. Word’s spread since the attack. We uncovered the truth about the prototypes when we broke into C1 in New Orleans. There are seven Earths, all controlled by the Invaders. Our Earth was the seventh prototype to be created. Ours is the last prototype.”

  Jet finally found the chair, his body quietly dropping into the seat. “That can’t … there’s no way.”

  “The operation panel in the control station outlined it clear as day. We didn’t need to read their language to make out the images. It’s all laid out—seven different planets, all identical, each with their very own operating station. The seventh was activated, lit up like a firework, with markings on each coastal base station—the exact stations they set up here. The other prototypes had entirely different base station locations. The Invaders can control each prototype from that main panel.”

  “But that would mean … that would mean the Invaders …”

  “Own Earth. Our planet is theirs, not ours. They’re only here to reclaim what’s theirs.”

  Rico spoke up before Kale could get another word in. “But that doesn’t chan
ge the fact that these things are Invaders. They might have made this planet, but we made lives here. We’ve established our race, created our own destinies, fought and worked for what we have, for what we love. These bastards came here with hostile force, killing men, women, and children; they’ve forced hundreds of thousands into servitude. Nothing will change that. We fight.” He pounded his fist on the table. “We bring them down and fight for this planet. It’s ours now.”

  “Amen to that,” someone murmured. A wave of agreement washed through the crowd, the enthusiastic energy palpable.

  “Wait a second.” Jet stood again. “Do you know why they did this, then? Why they created these models of our planet? And these Shepherds you’re talking about—the ones you need to activate—how do you know they’re not already activated?”

  “Who knows. Maybe we’re a science project for them. Maybe they were bored half out of their minds, and created Earth for the hell of it. The why doesn’t matter. It’s what we do with it that matters.”

  “The why always matters,” I said, my voice a whisper. “If it didn’t, what does that make us? We have the will to live, the desire to find purpose in life, to belong to something. We live and feel and fight and hurt … all of that matters.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Rico shrugged. “But we won’t be answering that question anytime soon. What we do know is, the Sacred Seven haven’t all been activated yet. If they had, the Invaders would have disappeared by now. It’s all on their blueprint layout, confirmed for us by an ex-Keeper Agent. Once the Seven Shepherds are activated and have control over the planet, the Invaders leave. The Seven’s Capsules can’t transport them to their destination from Central Control until all seven are accounted for. So, if any are activated already, they’ll be there, waiting for the others.”

  Jet shook his head. “And you figured all this out without being able to read their language? Where do they go?”

  “We have ex-Keepers, drop outs like you, working with us to help translate. We can’t read everything, but we’ve come a long way. The invaders go back to wherever the hell they came from, we guess.”

  Jet started sauntering around the table toward Rico. “So you want to execute the Sacred Seven? How do you know the Invaders won’t just designate seven others to take their places? They might still be able to go through with their plan. If they have control over the whole goddamn solar system, this is a losing battle, don’t you realize that?”

  Rico kept his gaze steady as Jet moved. “Not if we have the Sacred Seven destroy the Invaders before we destroy the Seven.”

  “How do you possibly expect to convince them to do that?”

  “Who said anything about convincing? We’ll force them.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled under my breath, “like that’ll happen.” As if reading my mind, Jet offered me the seat he had declined. Thank God, because I needed it. My poor battered brain was having serious issues digesting this new discovery. Six other Earths? All owned by the Invaders? Did that make them our creators? Were we all being watched this very second? Were we all aliens? Machines?

  Were we anything?

  “It will happen,” Rico assured us. He looked to Kale, who shifted uncomfortably. “We have a plan in place. No need to worry about that. Now that you two are up to speed, you’ll have to excuse us. We have arrangements to make for the next recon, and this Black Hole kicks us out tomorrow night.” He turned to address everyone in the room. “Be here, same time, same place, tomorrow evening, for one last meeting before we move out.” With that, he exited through the steel door. The others followed, leaving only me, Jet, and Kale around the table.

  Jet gazed thoughtfully at the steel door. “What do you need us for?” he muttered to Kale. “Looks to me like you have plenty of allies already.”

  Kale quietly shook his head, turning for the steel door to follow the rebels. “Looks can be deceiving.”

  * * *

  The calming effect of the Abyss anchored me to the rocks. I sat there, staring out at it, my knees pulled to my chest, admiring the soothing lull of the water’s surface. My eyes drifted shut and I inhaled deeply, pushing out the overwhelming shock and emotions that tore through me at the news that we weren’t the only Planet Earth. That we weren’t the only living, breathing human beings in the universe. That it was all even more vast than we’d known it to be. That truth made me feel even smaller than I’d felt before the invasion.

  While my brain picked apart the news and tried to digest each piece, I became more aware that all this was so much more intricate than ever before, and that there was a good chance my mind would never fully comprehend it all, let alone recover from the knowledge.

  So, instead of allowing myself to be swept away by these shattering new truths, I got lost in the delicate sound of the Abyss’s water, in the way it lapped at the rocky ledge near my feet. My head tilted back and I took in another deep breath, only I couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t breathe deep enough. Something interfered with my serenity, stabbing at my lungs with a fierceness that jolted me forward, causing my head to snap up and my eyes to fly open. My fingers rushed to my throat. The muscles there constricted as I gasped for breath. I frantically searched for someone to help me, but no one was around. It was early in the morning and the Abyss was quiet and still.

  Continuing to claw at my throat, I flinched when visions of drowning assaulted me. Images of my parents and their lungs being filled with fluid, their bodies convulsing as the water stole the life from them. I gasped harder, more desperate for breath, bolting to my feet. I stumbled toward the rocky ledge, and the only thought that sprang into my mind filled me with a fear so potent, I was nearly paralyzed on the spot. But I did what the thought prompted me to do, anyway.

  Against all common sense, I jumped, and like a woman possessed, submersed myself in the Abyss.

  The water cocooned me yet my eyes remained open, wide with terror. This would only speed up my race toward suffocating, but no part of my brain could convince my body to move, to flail about, to fight. Instead, I held myself beneath the surface. Slowly, second by second, the burn in my lungs began to fade. The struggle lessened. Something told me to breathe, and again, against all common sense, I did. I inhaled, taking in water through my nostrils, feeling it glide down my nose and throat by the gulp.

  I could breathe. The water wasn’t drowning me, it was saving me.

  The insane realization sent me into another panic, but before my mind teetered into an anxiety-induced tailspin, I was jolted and dragged upward toward the surface, a strong hand clasping tightly around my arm.

  “Skylla,” Kale’s voice broke through the watery cocoon, “can you hear me?”

  I started to cough as he pulled me toward the rocks, lifted me and settled me gently on the ground. “Yeah,” I choked out. “I’m okay … I’m … I don’t know what I was doing.”

  “Take it easy, one breath at a time. Easy, even breaths, you got it?” His hand stroked my back, and I found him staring at me intently, his brown eyes wary. “Focus on something. Try counting. That seems to help.”

  I did as he suggested, counting from one to ten, then again, until my breathing resumed to normal, the panic subsiding. “I couldn’t breathe,” I said. “But the water … it helped. I know how that sounds, but it did … it helped. It was all backwards.”

  “You were dealt some shocking news last night. It’s a lot to swallow. You probably just panicked.”

  “Doesn’t it make you feel … insignificant?”

  His weary gaze turned into a sympathetic one, full of understanding. “All the time,” he answered with a heavy sigh.

  “How long have you known?”

  He sat next to me and draped his arms over his knees. “A while. The last recon mission. I was one of the ones sent to Central Control—C1—the New Orleans base station. I remember feeling … betrayed. Like my whole life was a lie.” He laughed softly, his eyes glittering with wistful sadness. “Like I was a machine. I lost my sense of purpose
.”

  “I didn’t think things could get worse. Losing our families, our homes, our hope for a future … having to live with all that’s bad enough. It just doesn’t make sense for this to be … it. The end of everything, you know?”

  “No, it doesn’t. But you know, after a while, I started thinking.” His head tilted and he shrugged. “Life never really made much sense before all of this, either. The only difference was, I felt comfort. Sure that I had a role to play somehow, that I was useful in some way. Feeling useful is what keeps us going. Having purpose is living.”

  “So what do we live for now?”

  “The same thing we did before the invasion. Before we knew about Prototype Seven.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “We choose to. None of this changes the fact that we’re human beings. We can still choose to have purpose. And with a little luck, maybe we’ll be able to turn things around for the good. Maybe we can put our Earth back together. Maybe the Invaders aren’t the end of everything, like we think they are.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “That’s optimism if I’ve ever heard it.”

  “Have you considered that, though? Maybe we can get through to them. Compromise with them or something.”

  That comment sobered me; the chill of my damp clothing seemed nothing now, compared to the chill triggered by the intrigue racing through my veins. My spine straightened and I fixed my gaze on him. “What? You mean like … surrendering or something? Living in harmony with them somehow? They’re killing and controlling our race. That would never happen.”

  “Did you ever think an alien species would come to our planet and take over?”

  “Um … no.”

  “Never say never.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I just hope this plan Rico says he has in place works. If we actually make it into that control station at the San Francisco base, we can’t lose our shot. Not after we’ve made it so far.”

  Kale mumbled beneath his breath. It was faint, but there was no mistaking his dissatisfaction. I said, “What is it?”