by Sophie Davis
“You’re lying,” I managed to say.
My voice was so cold that I didn’t even recognize it. Because I already knew that Konterra wasn’t lying. That much was clear from her thoughts. She didn’t know the details surrounding my execution—how, when, where, or even why, after a month of being a good little inmate, the council planned to kill me—but Konterra knew for sure that they had voted for my execution that morning.
“Am I? Bet you wish you had your talents, don’t you? Then you’d know for sure.” Konterra shook her head in mock sadness. “I hear being deprived of your abilities is awful. Painful, even. Though I imagine being deprived of your life will be slightly worse, Inmate Lyons. Just guessing, though. Too bad you won’t be around to tell me for certain.”
“Lynn, you’re out of line,” Les interjected, his voice carrying an unmistakable warning. Stepping around Konterra, he moved farther into my cell, positioning himself between us. “The situation is more complicated than you are conveying, and you know it.” He turned to me, his voice softening from its sharp edge. “It’s only—” he started to say, but Konterra drowned him out again.
“Councilwoman Walburton was the deciding vote!” she exclaimed, daring a triumphant look at Les. “She’s the one who sealed your fate. All this buddy-buddy time you two spend together? It means nothing. Not to her, and not to the rest of the council. So, how does it feel to be betrayed, inmate?”
Her words were like a physical slap, stinging me to my core. Victoria had voted in favor of killing me? I didn’t want to believe it. A part of me didn’t believe it; unable to accept the truth I was hearing with my own ears and reading with my own mind.
I stared numbly back at Konterra, much to her satisfaction. In that moment, I wasn’t capable of speaking. One word reverberated through my mind, ricocheting back and forth like a bouncy ball: Execution.
Why? Why did the councilwoman want to have me executed? Why had she spent the last month pretending to be my ally? Why had she given me this stupid research assignment that was supposedly going to show the rest of the council that I was a team player? Why did she even bother?
This must be how piglets feel, I thought, right after they learn that the farmer has only been giving them all that delicious food to fatten them up for slaughter.
My temper was hard to control at the best of times. Having someone deliberately and repeatedly stoking the fire made it damned near impossible to keep in check. But emotional pain, like the kind caused by learning a close friend had betrayed me, made me helpless against the swell of power building inside of me, desperately seeking an outlet.
The papers stirred on my bed as the still, stagnant air in the cell began to swirl. A light bulb burst overhead, raining filament and glass down around me. There was a loud cracking noise as the plastic meal table splintered in half. Even the hard flooring beneath my bare feet gave a low rumble in response to my heartache.
Calm thoughts. Count to ten, I coached desperately. Just breathe. There’s more to the story. There has to be more. Let Victoria explain herself.
No. She’s a heartless bitch, I thought, my doubt overtaking the voice of reason. She used you, just like Mac did. And now that she’s done with you, it’s game over. She’s going to have you killed.
The warring voices in my head continued to rage back and forth, and I didn’t know what to believe. Tears threatened my eyes. I blinked them back, unwilling to give Konterra the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
The wind and rumbling died down as quickly as they’d come. But the damage was already done, both literally and metaphorically; along with breaking several items in my cell, I’d used my supposedly dormant talents in front of two guards.
Good going, Talia, I lectured. For your next trick, why don’t you morph into a bird and fly around their heads? You know, just in case they’re at all unsure about whether you have your abilities.
When I met Konterra’s gaze, all traces of smugness had vanished from her gray eyes. Her fair skin turned a startlingly new shade of white, as shock and alarm registered in her expression. Her hands trembled so badly, she dropped her weapon. The guard was poised to bolt, only confusion rooting her feet to the cell floor.
Without thinking, I summoned Konterra’s gun to me before it could hit the ground.
“No. No. No.” Konterra shook her head jerkily from side to side. “Y-y-you shouldn’t be able to use your talents.”
The weapon was suddenly in my hand, but I didn’t point it at either guard. Instead, I directed the barrel towards the ground. The situation had escalated too quickly, and aiming a physical weapon at Konterra and Les definitely wasn’t going to help matters.
“What’s going on, Lyons?” Les asked, one hand moving towards the butt of his own gun. His voice was steady, his movements controlled. Even his expression remained neutral. It was the fear dripping from his glands like sweat during a strenuous workout that belied his calm façade.
“Don’t,” I warned, intensifying the word with a steady glare. “Just leave it in the holster.”
Les held his hands up, palms facing me to show they were empty, and then let them fall to his sides. His eyes darted around the cell.
“You might be able to erase our memories of this little episode,” Les said evenly, the voice of reason. “Or compel us not to report it, or whatever it is you are able to do exactly. But you can’t reverse the damage to the furniture.”
“I know,” I agreed, wondering about the odds of the destruction going unnoticed.
“Running isn’t an option either,” Les continued, still speaking in a low, gentle tone that people normally use on children and crazies. “Talia, no one has ever escaped from Vault. I assure you, it’s impossible.”
That’s what they said about Tramblewood, I thought. Yet I broke Erik out of there.
Of course, I hadn’t staged that prison break alone. Ian Crane and his Coalition soldiers had been instrumental in freeing Erik. Was I capable of defying the odds on my own?
The wheel in my head was spinning so rapidly, a hamster would’ve been sent sailing through the air. I was too upset, too blindsided by Konterra’s news, to think straight.
What was my next move? I needed to make it soon.
Altering the guards’ memories to forget this entire exchange seemed like the best option, not to mention the simplest and quickest way to go. Then, I could tell Yocum what had transpired once he arrived in the morning. He wouldn’t be super thrilled, but he’d help me figure out a way to explain or hide the broken furniture. We were coconspirators after all.
Except, that still leaves your neck in the noose, just waiting for the executioner to kick the box from beneath your feet, I thought morbidly.
Okay, maybe that was a tad dramatic; UNITED didn’t actually hang people. At least, I didn’t think they did. Honestly, I had no clue what means they used to execute prisoners.
Once again, the word began bouncing rapidly through my mind, ricocheting off of logic and reason. Executed, executed, executed.
“Just because no one has ever done it, that doesn’t mean escape is impossible.”
The words came from the doorway, where Konterra was still standing. But when I spared her a surprised glance, the guard was shaking pitifully and blubbering. A slim figure stepped around the crying woman and into my cell, joining our trio.
“Anya?” I asked, both grateful for her presence and confused as to why she was there. Doctors usually returned to the residential islands at night, unless they were called in for a medical emergency.
“Dr. Pritcher, thank heavens you’re here,” Les said, sounding extremely relieved and not at all surprised.
That was when I realized my critical error. The guards still had their communicators. One of them must have sounded an alarm. As my doctor, Anya would have been one of the first to receive the alert, so she’d be on standby to treat me after the wranglers were done doing whatever it was they did to unruly prisoners.
“The wranglers will be here shortly,
” Anya said evenly. Her emerald gaze landed on me, and her words were hurried when she continued. “There isn’t time to explain. Please, just trust me. We need to go, Talia. Now.”
“What?” Les and I asked in unison.
Anya directed her next statement at Les. “Slowly remove your gun from the holster, put it on the ground, and slide it over to me. Now, or Talia will shoot you. Then, cuff yourself and Agent Konterra to the bed.”
Noticing the slight tremble that crept into Anya’s voice, Les decided to call her bluff. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. The only way you’re getting this gun off of me is if I’m down for the count.”
“Okay.” Anya nodded jerkily. “Talia, tranq him.”
Utterly stunned by this turn of events, my reaction time was slower than usual. My slight hesitation before pulling the trigger gave Konterra an opening. She rounded on Anya, drawing her fist back in the process.
Without thinking, I fired three darts into Konterra’s chest just as her clenched hand connected with Anya’s jaw. The doctor’s head snapped back, and she cried out in pain. Konterra swayed on her feet. Her hateful gray eyes rolled around in their sockets, unfocused and erratic.
Then, she folded like a house of cards.
No going back now, I thought.
“Are you stupid?” Les screamed at me. “Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in now?”
I swung the gun towards him. “No more than I already am.”
“Tranq him, Talia,” Anya repeated anxiously, rubbing her jaw.
“You don’t want to do this, Lyons. I called for the wranglers to help you. To prevent you from doing something stupid, like running. You will die if you attempt to escape.”
“I’m going to die either way,” I replied. “I’d much rather go out fighting.”
I pulled the trigger. Several times in rapid succession, just to be sure.
Being considerably larger than his female counterpart, Les remained on his feet a few moments longer than Konterra had.
“The situation is complicated,” he slurred, fighting the drugs threatening to put him into a near-comatose state. The guard fell to his knees, head drooping to one side, but didn’t lose consciousness immediately.
At Anya’s feet, Lynn Konterra began to seize. Her chest rising and falling in an unnaturally fast rhythm.
Watching his fellow guard convulse must have frightened Les badly, because he started swatting and head-butting the air, as if sparring with an invisible opponent. When he lost all control of his arm muscles, Les twisted violently from the waist, attempting to gain enough momentum in his spaghetti-like limbs to continue the match.
“No. Please, no. I didn’t mean to. Please. Please,” he moaned piteously.
Finally, he face-planted, cracking his forehead against the hard floor of my cell.
Stepping over Konterra, Anya grabbed ahold of my arm and tugged. “Come on, there isn’t much time.”
“Is it true?” I asked Anya, gaze fixed on the two agents convulsing on the ground. “About the execution? Is the council really planning to kill me? Did Victoria really cast the deciding vote?”
I had no doubt about the answers to my questions, at least from Konterra’s perspective. Still, I needed confirmation from a trusted source. I needed to hear the words spoken aloud.
Sympathy softened Anya’s expression. “I promise to explain it all. Right now, we really need to go. I was able to delay the wranglers, but it won’t take long for them to figure out what I did.”
“Is it true?” I repeated. “Just tell me that much. Tell me that Konterra didn’t trick me into flying off the handle.”
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm started blaring. The noise grew steadily louder as speakers began playing a message loop: “Code Ten on Level Five. Code Ten on Level Five. All guards are to report immediately. Code Ten on Level Five. Code Ten on Level Five. All guards are to report immediately.”
“It’s true,” Anya confirmed, shouting to be heard over the noise. “I’m so sorry, Talia.”
I nodded slowly, my heart breaking as I willed myself not to cry again. This time, when Anya pulled my arm, I didn’t fight. Escape was a Hail Mary, but it was my best chance at a future. I wasn’t going to stay on Vault and wait for my execution.
I simply couldn’t.
At the door to my cell, I paused and gently pried Anya’s fingers loose. I glanced back at the guards who, despite being shot up with enough drugs to drop a rhino, were not at all sedate.
“I can’t let you go with me, Anya,” I insisted. “You’ve done more than enough already. Stay. Treat the guards. Say that when you got here, Konterra and Les were already on the ground, and I was already gone.”
“No.” Anya shook her head firmly. “You can’t escape without me. You won’t make it off of Level Five, let alone off of Vault. This place is a fortress. Each floor is a maze within a maze, designed to confuse people. You need me. I’ve already mapped out our route, and I uploaded the blueprints to my communicator. You need me,” she repeated for emphasis. “Besides, I promised Erik I would get you out of here, as repayment for saving me from the Poachers. Don’t make me break that promise.”
Erik? Anya and Erik had been talking? How long were they in touch? The thought made my roiling stomach churn even faster.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Right now, you need to focus. You just shot two guards full of tranquilizers. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. No, concentrate on the future. You have to get off of this damned island prison, nothing else matters.
“You said you have a route mapped out?” I asked, resigned to letting Anya help me.
Sure, I could have compelled her to stay behind. But the fierce determination in her jewel-toned eyes tugged at my heartstrings. Not to mention, I had a feeling I did need her. If she and Erik had been planning for something like this, then Anya was my best chance of survival.
And I was hers. I didn’t know how she’d delayed the wranglers, but she made it sound as though the distraction was traceable back to her. Once the connection was made, Anya would no longer be a doctor on Vault. She’d be a prisoner. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. It was already too stained.
“Yes, and a backup or two, just in case,” Anya confirmed.
“Lead the way,” I declared.
Time for a jailbreak.
The Privileged
Besançon, France
Three Days Before the Vote
Natalia Lyons. The name had been rolling around in Cressa’s head all morning. She’d heard it before, many times. The UNITED agent was as famous as the front man for the Righteous Renegades, Linc Leopold. Maybe even more so. Ever since she’d led an attack on that TOXIC prison to free her boyfriend—totally romantic, in Cressa’s opinion—Natalia Lyons had been headline news.
Candid images of the Lyons girl appeared everywhere—the world was obsessed. Her name in the title of an I-article was guaranteed to draw in an enormous audience, even if just discussing her clothes or reporting an alleged sighting. Once it came out that Natalia Lyons was infected with the creation drug, the mainstream media dubbed her The Lethal Lilac. With that, the Talented teenager’s star had soared to all new heights.
Of course, not everyone loved her. Cressa’s parents believed Natalia Lyons a traitor, for not immediately rallying to the Dame’s side. They’d forbidden Cressa from adding her pictures to the collage of stars on her bedroom walls, or even to speak her name. Nonetheless, their feelings hadn’t deterred her from reading everything she could find about Natalia; Cressa just kept her hero-worship a secret.
In truth, Natalia Lyons was the main reason Cressa had been so excited when she finally received her acceptance to the Institute. Once she graduated and became one of the Privileged, Cressa would be just as powerful—and probably just as famous—as her idol.
“Cadet Karmine, is there somewhere else you would rather be right now?” Gracia snapped.
“Huh?” Cressa was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she’d totally misse
d whatever Gracia had been saying.
“‘Huh?’” the older girl parroted. She made a ridiculous, dopey expression that was evidently supposed to be an imitation of Cressa. “Is that how you were taught to address your betters? No, I think not. Your father is CEO of Karmine Pharmaceuticals and your mother is the daughter of a former U.S. president, so I know you were raised with manners. Act like it.”
When do I start invisibility training? Cressa wondered, humiliated beyond belief.
Across the classroom, Daphne gave her a sympathetic smile. Cressa returned the gesture gratefully. Since she would never become Natalia Lyons’ equal if she didn’t get through her training, Cressa vowed to focus.
Privilege is for the Worthy, she reminded herself.
She sat up straighter in her chair and squared her shoulders, locking her gaze on Gracia. The older girl was an unpleasant witch, but she wasn’t wrong about Cressa’s lineage. Her mother’s side actually counted two former presidents, and a mayor of Manhattan who’d been a presidential candidate until a scandalous affair had ultimately cost her the election. On the other side, Karmine Pharmaceuticals was among the oldest enterprises in the world, and one of the few non-tech companies that always managed to operate in the black. All told, she had a lot to live up to.
“I apologize, ma’am,” Cressa began, meeting and holding Gracia’s alarming violet gaze. “I am very excited about the demonstration.”
Gracia sniffed, mollified by the apology. “As you should be. This is a rare treat. 2P peons do not usually get to witness the testing. Lucky for you all, I have pull with the Dame. She agreed to let you to observe today, as a personal favor to me.”
By Cressa’s count, this was the tenth reference Gracia had made to the Dame and their alleged bestie status since breakfast. Gracia’s air of superiority had grown exponentially since returning from her morning meeting with the Dame. Her smugness led Cressa and the others to conclude that their captain had been chosen as Natalia Lyons’ clone. None of them were excited about this development; Gracia didn’t need any additional kindling for her roaring ego.