by Logan Keys
I breathe hard, my every cell awakened like before.
“You’re faster than me.” He winks, sitting up. “Good,” he says. “That’s all for today’s lesson.” And he slowly takes back his knife, rising to his feet. “We need to leave soon, Liza. It’s not safe here. You have to see that now.”
“I know. I can—I will, I mean. But I can’t, until I’ve said goodbye, at least. I do see it. I’ve run out of reasons to stay, so … I think it’d be better to find the people who know me, and my past.”
Vehicles drive down the street by the alley, and they bear the council’s insignia. A rare occurrence for them to go beyond the gates.
When I look back, Phillip has vanished.
A familiar outline exits the first Humvee. Tommy. Alongside him is Baby, who’d been mysteriously missing today.
He speaks to her, and she takes notes.
“Tommy,” I call, striding over. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
He barely acknowledges me. “I’m going to speak with the leaders of the armies today,” he says, seeming distracted.
“What, all of them? That could take a while.”
Tommy nods, then starts in that direction, his limp barely noticeable now. “Yes. It’s urgent, and I’ll stay as long as I have to.”
Confused by the brush off, I touch his arm. “Tommy, I’ve got something to say…” I look over at Baby, feeling like a third wheel. “Alone.”
“I do, too,” Tommy says, almost reluctantly. Baby moves to give us privacy, while he turns to face me. “Since I’ve been added to the council, they’ve given me the option for an assistant.” He flashes me a guilty look. “And I’ve chosen Baby.”
I open my mouth, then close it.
“She’s actually been a great help. But if she’s more standoffish than usual, don’t be too hard on her—”
Hard on her?
Another Humvee arrives, and a tall passenger exits right where we stand, interrupting my reply. It’s that other man on the council, the one Tommy seems to dislike.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t beauty and the Beast.”
“Cory,” Tommy returns, with so much bite, I can hear the chomp.
“Why, thank you,” Baby answers.
Cory’s eyes skim over Baby like she’s no factor, then the bright blues land on me with a driven, capable gaze from which intelligence and swarthiness drips. He’s Baby’s equal in looks.
“I was speaking of Liza as the beauty,” he says.
With barely a nod, I accept the compliment, wondering how this stranger even knows my name. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had the pleasure of … Cory is it?”
“Prince, actually. Captain Prince. But yes, you can call me Cory.”
Before Tommy can speak, Cory holds up a hand.
“I’ve brought something,” he says.
From behind his back, Cory pulls out a record—a real record from what feels like a million years ago. “It’s an early edition,” he says, and hands it to me.
“An early edition?” I ask.
The cover shows a conductor with a baton in hand, leading an orchestra. Something slams into me, and a sense of what I should know swirls around my mind.
Cory explains, “When I heard we had a Randusky in our midst, well, I thought I’d get his daughter to sign it.”
Everyone stands with the same amount of confusion.
“Randusky?” I repeat.
Cory’s face registers with sudden understanding. “You don’t know? Ah—you don’t remember. That makes a lot of sense.” He shrewdly eyes Tommy with this new info before watching me so intently, and with so much knowledge of me, I feel like I’ve been caught naked in a room full of people. I try to remember what I’m supposed to, but I can’t.
“We know one another, Liza. Well, not actually ‘know,’ per se, but one summer, when you played at the embassy in England, my father was there, as was I. Just a boy then, myself, and you were too small to touch the piano pedals. My collar was itchy, and I wasn’t really paying attention to your playing, but the queen said something I remember quite well. She called you a national treasure of not one, but two countries.”
My throat tightens, and at seeing my frustration, his aqua eyes grow sad. None of this comes back to me.
I force words past the lump in my throat. “I played?”
“Played doesn’t cover it. You were a virtuoso. I bet you miss it like a limb.”
In a simmer of outrage, Tommy’s furious gaze darts between me and Cory.
“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps.
“I should be going, as well,” Cory says. I try to give back the record, but the Captain holds up a hand. “No. Keep it. Listen to song number seven. I think it might ring a bell.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
Tommy
It took a day and a half to listen to all of the international army leaders, and just over twenty-four hours to find out there’s no one-mind to any of them. No singular goal. No same page. And not one leader could call loyalty to all. It all seemed hopeless, though I still listened to every single one.
In the end, I could only see too many roosters in the henhouse when the war came, most going in different directions, but everyone dead far too soon because of inconsistent strategy.
When I make it back to my new living quarters, I’m dog tired, and with the choices set before me, nothing seems clear except for one: Protect Liza.
Cory stops me on my last few steps to my room, where I planned to retreat. To sleep. To abyss.
He sees my oh-so welcoming look and holds up his hands. “Whoa! Whoa! Hold on there, brother. I mean you no harm.”
I clench my teeth and bite out, “Spare me. It was a nice trick you pulled back there on Liza. What did you do? Scrape her brain for the residue of memories?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
Arrogant. Sleazy. Nothing’s changed. “Get out of my way, Cory.”
He doesn’t budge. “I need to speak with you. “
“Speak.”
“I’m here to warn you. Simon won’t like your little expedition today. He won’t enjoy hearing how his hero is checking behind his work. If he wants war with the Authority, then neither you nor I can stop him, Hatter.”
“He’s asked me to do a job. I’m doing it.”
Cory huffs through his nose, exasperated. “Forget about being such a good guy, man. Forget trying to change the future. Send. Us. Home.”
“And by ‘home,’ you mean… ?”
Cory’s teeth show when he replies, “Anthem. It’s ours, by rights. You know it. Don’t be that guy, Hatter. I don’t want to have to save your ass … again.”
His obvious worry makes me smile.
“What’s the matter, Prince? Slumming it here on the military base isn’t enough for you? Those weird-ass looking ambassadors getting to you with their ‘live longer’ rejuvenation fairy tales. It’s not real, you know that, right? They don’t have magical powers any more than you or I do.”
“Well, your monster might be a curse, but I actually enjoy the gift of being a Special. We’ve seen things that go beyond this place.”
“Yeah, and where’s that gotten us?”
Cory momentarily lets go of his façade to show the scared little boy beneath.
“Is that it, Cory? You heard stories about the rich diplomats of Anthem and want to get your nose done. Or is the idea you might fit in better with the Authority than with your fellow soldiers just too tempting?”
Cory’s keen eyes glimmer with ambition. “While I do love a man in uniform, I think I’d be a better fit in a real society. Don’t you miss it? Millions of people are out there—it’s a real city, not some dried-up installation where we drill ourselves to death, and for what?”
“I’m not interested in reminiscing with you. Get out of my face, Cory.”
He bristles. “Careful, Hatter. I may just make you change your mind.”
Everything goes a little hazy, and I grab
Cory by the shirt.
“That’s right,” he squeaks, giving me his thoughts about Liza.
I tighten my grip until his collar cuts off his air, and the images disappear. Then I let him go with a disgusted sound.
Cory wheezes, bent over. “I see it in your wimpy, little face, Tommy. You don’t have the balls to call for a war, not when you know last time we got our asses kicked. And here I thought you were all ‘no guts, no glory.’ It’s a wonder how you’ve made it this far, and Joelle didn’t.”
I swell in size, and he’s wise enough to straighten up at a distance. “Whose glory?” I spit out. “Tell me that, Prince. Joelle didn’t make it because of whose glory? We all gave guts, remember? How they made us squirm. Did they shock you until you pissed yourself? Make you cry for your mommy? I’ll bet they did. And I’ll bet you turned yellower than a daisy trying to get them to stop abusing you and your psychotic brain just to make you so special.”
Cory’s face drains white.
I stalk forward. “Courage is asking the big question: Why? I’ll fight for freedom, but ego’s another thing. So, we get Anthem, then what?”
We’re mere inches apart when I whisper out my warning, “Stay away from Liza; keep your filthy mind and hands away from her. She’s one of the few good things left on this planet, and so help me God, I’ll kill you and Simon and the rest of the council before I see her play the same sick game you and I have played for far too long.”
Cory stupidly shakes off my warning, rubbing his throat. “Jealousy doesn’t fit you, Hatter. If you care so much about her, then think about how she’ll die right alongside us if the ambassadors are lying. Tell me, does she know about that poor SOB you shot dead in the jungle? Maybe I need to pay her another visit.”
“Drop it, you mind-raping psycho.”
“No.”
I nod an acceptance of his idiocy. “All right. You want war? Then this means war.”
I open the door to my room, and I have to take a moment to rub my brow, eyes closed, trying not to lose my temper. “What are you doing in here?” I ask.
Baby’s on my bed, fluffing a pillow where she sits. “I was just checking to make sure you got rest.”
“Not part of the job.”
She gracefully moves out of my way. “Debatable.”
“I haven’t slept in three whole days.”
“I know.” She walks around, helps me out of my jacket.
I’m too tired to protest.
When she stops in front of me, I say, “I know you’ve been sneaking around here looking for something. Don’t worry, I don’t care. Whatever you’re trying to find around the compound, just don’t get caught.”
Baby nods, avoiding my gaze as I pull off my shirt.
“Why is it you hate Simon, anyway?” I ask.
Her dark eyes rove over my body, or rather, what’s left of it. Instead of hiding my scars, I stand boldly, letting her look, and if it scares her, if she runs away, the sooner I can get some sleep.
Instead, her tiny pink tongue wets her lips, and it feels like the metal parts of my body are hot.
“Let me rub your back and I’ll tell you,” she says.
I breathe in deeply, thinking, “Not a good idea,” but saying, “Okay.”
Baby motions for me to lie on the bed, on my front. I do, and she sits on the edge, rubbing my shoulders, both of which are mostly still me. With her small hands, she nimbly finds knots and gently works them out. I hadn’t realized how sore I am.
Despite my attempts to muffle it, I groan with pleasure.
“That feels good, right?” she says, and I hum a thank you.
Then she begins her story: “Simon took us, my sister and I, when it first began. Orphans like myself didn’t have a choice but to be forced into the specialist program.”
“Did she die?”
I don’t mean to be so blunt, but I seem to have lost my ability to think clearly.
“In a matter of speaking, yes. Before they could do their work on me, Nolan had forced Simon to stop taking civilians unless they volunteered. So they let me go. At first I ran, afraid…” She chokes on the word, embarrassment tinging her voice. “But then I had to go back, to find out what happened to her.”
I guess this ends with her not finding much of anything.
I stop her hands with mine, then turn to face her, leaning onto my side. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
Baby keeps hold of me. “Me, too. She was the smart one.”
I smile softly. “I doubt that.”
Baby rolls me the rest of the way over and climbs up onto my bed, legs straddling my middle. Her beautiful face comes near, and I realize I want this. Just for a moment. She brings her feather-like lips to my mouth, and a feminine softness envelopes me as dark hair curtains around us. Small hands rove lower on my body, and I feel the slight shape that lies fully on top of me, each curve created to make a man forget even his own safety.
She could cut my throat right now, and I’d die happy.
But she cradles my face, kisses me deeper, like she needs to forget, too. I sit up, position her more soundly across my lap, and grip the back of her neck, forcing her to accept the pent-up emotions I’ve felt since being abducted onto the Island.
All the unaddressed frustration sharply turns to passion, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, but I can’t seem to stop.
She breaks away to breathe, and I force her back, taking her gasps into my own lungs. She’d started this game. If she has any regrets now, they’ve been swallowed whole.
We don’t stop until we’re both panting, pulling each other’s clothes off. Her dress flutters to the floor, and I’m blinded by leagues of perfect, satin skin—long legs and arms, and roundness in between. I stare at her in shock; the first woman fully naked in front of me. And she’s on my lap.
This thought sets me on fire.
I don’t know where to start, but my body certainly does, and Baby moans when I kiss and nip at her collarbone, while I groan as she scratches my chest, both me and not me feeling every nail edge.
The rush of trying to get closer, to get inside, is a heady drug, and I let it take me away from La La Land and all its problems.
Later, with Baby’s head on my chest, I stroke her back, wondering what this will mean.
“Liza…” I murmur, saying what we’re both thinking.
“Don’t worry.” Baby cradles my face with one hand. “She and I will be sisters someday.”
I frown when she looks away, but before I can think about her strange phrasing, she whispers sweetly into my ear, “Rest now, hero.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Dallas
There’s no pain. I’d expected pain. In fact, I’d expected anything but this vast loneliness. Not simply alone, but alone a million times over. I’ve been sent across the universe with no oxygen, and I’m floating, and dying, with my skin on fire. But the pain’s mental, and I know that. This blazing is nothing compared to the fabric torn that makes us human, the need to feel needed. Not alone. Not alone. Not alone!
I scream repeatedly in my head at this overwhelming fear of being shrunk down to a blind, deaf, burning nothing. The stars are nowhere, and there is no light. Just a great, sucking blackness—
“Daisy! Come back. Come back to me.”
I’d felt a great nothing. Now, I feel a great everything. The world’s not spinning anymore; it’s frozen, stopped, holding its breath for me. I open my eyes, only … they’re no longer my eyes. They’re a gifted set from the dark side, which laser in on the rustling trees, focusing on each leaf until I can see the veins … a half-mile away. The wind irritates my senses; in my new body, I prefer stillness, needing to be able to hear with precision, to see without distraction.
I rise, my head swiveling on a gliding joint versus the stilted stiffness from before. I feel almost liquid—semi-human—inhuman, if I choose. The choice begs me, pleading to know, what will I be: good or … not good.
I look over at Joelle,
and she nods, smiling. “You can do this. You don’t have to be like Pike.”
Yet, her eyes hold a kind of wariness.
This is not vampires of the occult, things that suck blood because of baser instincts. No, this is the judgment of a superior race that reflects my own weak humanity. I see myself groveling, trying to survive, proud, holding my head up because I’d won yet again. My measly life my prize, even if other things had been taken, stripped, beaten away. She’d felt like she’d done good by breathing another day, seeing another sunrise. I want to slap the head from her shoulders.
I speak, as if pearls roll out from an oyster, perfected over time, only there’s been no time at all.
It makes sense. These last few seconds have seemed like an eternity. In freeze frames, I watch myself through Joelle, and then I’m in front of a stream, washing the blood from my neck, feeling the water, the sensation, the slowness of life that sleeps all around me. It all needs the languidness, because it all dies too soon. The curse is clear; I won’t die like that. I’ll watch the beauty fade from each thing as it dies.
I hear far off footsteps and freeze frame until I’m there, before Toby. He looks at me with anger mottling his features, but that falls into confusion … and then fear dawns.
Freeze frame to me over his broken body.
I don’t even recall moving, only the thought.
I stand over him with his heart in my hand, feeding it to him in pieces.
The brutal youths flee from me, and I let them go as everything rushes by while moments take too long.
Toby hadn’t suffered the way I’d planned.
I don’t get to enjoy his death.
Another curse.
For some reason, this makes me cry.
I leave his body to weep until the dawn, before I sleep like the dead, in a cave.
I rise again with my tears finished, and Joelle meets me there.
“You’ve won the battle, Daisy.”
I shudder, staring at her, knowing what I must look like, because of what she looks like: a thing of the night; a wild one who has no concept of time.