Strom stroked my hair. “None of us had any idea. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
I looked up at him. Tears were streaking down his face now too, cutting through what was left of the “1” on his cheek. Pel and Kai stood on either side of us as the crowd grew in size. We all watched as Aldan was taken from the stadium.
I wiped my sleeves over my face, drying my tears as best I could. None of it made any sense. It was Aldan’s destiny to win the race. Laira and I should be headed toward the light rail, and on to Aldan’s after-party. We’d laugh when Aldan would show up late, because he was always late. And when Aldan was involved, we always laughed. Except not this time.
I closed my eyes.
“We need to go,” I heard Pel say.
“I know,” Kai agreed. “Dad said he would meet us there.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, looking at him in confusion.
“Dax, listen to me,” Strom said gently. “I’m going to stay here and find out where they’ve taken Aldan. Carlen and Shay are going to help me. They’re already talking to some of the guards. You need to go with Kai and Pel to the UV building.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “If you think they’ll take Aldan there then why aren’t we all going?”
“It’s not Aldan.” Strom paused. “Link’s been taken to the holding cells.”
I looked at my brother in disbelief. “What do you mean?” I said. “Why would anyone take Link to a holding cell?”
“He renounced his destiny.”
I sucked in my breath. This couldn’t be happening. Nothing made any sense. Not Aldan. Not Link. I looked from one of my brothers to the next through blurring vision, trying to form some sort of rational question. My tongue suddenly felt too thick. And my throat too dry. I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to make a sound.
“It’s going to be okay,” Pel said. “But we need to talk some sense into him. We should go now, Dax.”
Overhead I could see the holographs of Aldan projected. The one closest to us was on repeat. I watched for a second time as my brother balanced on the finish line, the Destiny Keeper’s blast, his body falling, convulsing. I gagged, trying not to throw up.
“Look away,” Kai said, tilting my face toward his. “Come on, now. We have to go before Link does anything else.”
“Theron?” I said, turning back to him. He was still deep in conversation with the girl. She wore a green dress. Odd, I thought dazedly, that he would know someone so far outside of his ring who didn’t go to our school.
“It’s okay, Dax. Your brothers and I will take care of things here, I promise.”
I nodded as Kai took my hand in his, and pulled me through the chaos of the crowd, away from a dead brother, toward the living one in jail. As the tears started to slip down my face again, all I could think again was… why?
My car was waiting below when I stepped out of the lift, and Brine ushered Bas and me inside. People surrounded the car as far as I could see through the tinted windows. They were running, crying, screaming. Some stood in confusion, unmoving even when the driver honked at them. I was thankful that no one could see inside—that no cameras could record the tears trickling down my cheeks. Aldan had gone to my school. We ran in similar circles. He was my boyfri—my ex’s brother. Link… I shook my head in disbelief. I had to do something. There was no way I was going to leave him, alone, in a holding cell. If I could speak to him I knew I could convince him to apologize to the ministry. It had been a rash conversation fueled by grief. I’d make the ministry understand.
Bas and Brine sat to my right, riled up about the race. Bas absently stroked my knee, and I pressed my forehead against the window, wishing I were anywhere else.
“I can’t believe that happened,” Bas said. “What a fool. Why didn’t he just go down the stupid incline?”
“Had to prove a point,” Brine muttered. “I can’t believe he wasn’t on the PAE’s radar. He wasn’t even flagged as a risk.”
“Well, it cost me three hundred ostows. I bet on his time.”
Anger welled up in me. “You’re worried about ostows when Aldan is dead?” I didn’t dare turn from the window. I didn’t want them to see my tear streaked face.
“He was obviously an extremist,” Brine answered. “Having to live with non-believers is bad enough, but when they act on it, and try to destroy our system, they have to pay. I have no sympathy, and as a future minister neither should you.” He paused a beat, his passion growing. “Do you want another Event? I haven’t forgotten our history, but it seems like you may have.”
I wiped my face and swiveled my head toward them in anger, my hair flipping out around my shoulders as I did so. The Event may have happened thirty-nine years ago but it influenced everything we did today. How dare Brine question my loyalty? “Of course I know what happened. And you know I would never support a destiny breaker. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel compassion.” Bas patted my knee as if he was placating a child. “Any good leader should,” I continued. “Nobody wants to look up to someone who’d dismiss a death, and the circumstances surrounding it, as an annoyance. It’s a serious issue. Ask your grandfather, Bas. I’m sure he’ll agree.” Bas’s hand froze in place. “Besides, Aldan…” My voice caught as I said his name, and I took another breath. “Aldan wasn’t a bad person. I don’t believe he meant to defy the system. I think it was an accident.”
“An accident he could have prevented,” Bas said.
“Exactly.” Brine looked angry, like he wished he could have been the one to shoot Aldan. “If he wasn’t fighting his destiny he would have succeeded in it,” Brine said. “He obviously wanted to fail, to take a stab at our system.”
“But why?” I countered. “He had everything going for him.”
“You saw what his sister did to me today,” Bas answered, as if that solved it. “She probably corrupted him somehow. You know how unstable and criminally inclined Blanks can be. There’s a reason most of them are placed in the Ward.”
Dax. I’d wanted to kill Link’s little sister earlier that day. It seemed so long ago. Now I just hoped his family—all of his family—was okay.
I turned my focus back out the window, thankful that the car was pulling away from the crowd and onto the open road. It didn’t matter why Aldan did what he did. Not anymore. What mattered was stopping Link from throwing his life away, too. I closed my eyes as we picked up speed. I didn’t want to talk about the Harris’s anymore. Not with Bas and Brine, anyway. I knew what I had to do.
“You may be right,” I said. “My head is whirling after what happened. I need a distraction, something to get my mind off of it. Can you have the driver drop me off at the UV building? I’m going to try and get a little work done.” I didn’t have a formal office yet – it would come next year when I took my place in the ministry – but there was always a conference room available for me, and Bas knew I liked to put in face time when possible.
“Sure,” Bas said, and squeezed my knee.
A few minutes later we arrived at the UV building. Its sleek, glass sides sparkled in the fading sunlight. It was the tallest building in the Purple zone, which meant it was the tallest in New City. Seven flags representing the seven rings waved out front, and even though I couldn’t see it from my vantage point, I knew the spire would be glowing on top. Usually it displayed all of the colors, but today it had been changed to pure purple to signify the championship. And Aldan. I wondered if they’d changed it back already. I jumped out of the car before the driver could come around to open the door for me.
“Hey,” Bas called after me. “We didn’t mean to upset you. You know Brine was born ‘to punish wrongdoers,’ so sometimes he gets a little amped up, and I get sucked into it. We’re okay, though, right?”
I stepped back to the car and gave him a light kiss on the lips. “We’re okay.” I felt a little bad. Here Bas was trying to make things right, and I wasn’t exactly being truthful. But I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t at th
e UV building to work, but rather to help my ex. He wouldn’t understand. So instead, I gave him a little wave and turned toward the building.
The steps leading up to the general entrance were already teaming with media. Several crews had also set up around the circular reflection pool out front. I’d hoped that Link’s performance wouldn’t have hit the news yet, but it clearly had. Not that I was surprised. Cameras and paparazzi had recorded the Box throughout the race. One of them would have captured Link’s meltdown.
Rather than deal with the growing frenzy, I skirted the entrance, following a tree-lined pathway to one of the side doors for high-ranking officials. It was a simple, unassuming entrance that required a quick swipe of my tracker and retina scan to get through.
Inside the building was hushed—there were few people working this time of night, for which I was thankful. As I made my way through the empty hallways, my gown brushed against the carpeting with a dull hiss. I bypassed several security points on the ground floor before I reached the elevator that went down to the holding cells. I held my breath as I walked in, exhaling in relief when I saw that none of Link’s family had arrived yet.
“Ms. Sumner,” the booking officer said, standing as I approached her desk. Her blonde hair was cut into a severe bob and she peered at me through black-rimmed bifocals. “What a pleasure to have a future minister visit our office.”
I gave her a strained smile. “Could you tell me if Link Harris arrived yet?”
“He was hoverlifted in and booked five minutes ago.” She shook her head. “Terrible thing, what happened at the race today.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Truly terrible. I actually need to speak with Mr. Harris. There’s been a misunderstanding I want to discuss with him.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said.
“Excuse me?” I said, letting a twinge of displeasure enter my voice. I didn’t have time for this.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Sumner, but that’s not proper procedure. According to Article 7, no persons other than family, or those expressly approved by the ministering board or Delegation are allowed to visit inmates of the holding cells.” She tapped the screen next to her desk and a wall of tiny print sprang to life.
I was not about to be slowed down by bureaucracy. “And do you not consider me part of the ministering board?”
Her mouth fell open a little. She didn’t know what to say, and I wasn’t going to let up.
“Do the rules specifically say active ministers?”
“No, no they don’t,” she replied.
“Then please show me to Mr. Harris’s cell.” I looked down at the name plaque on her desk. “Officer McCarrick, the last thing I want is to tell the other ministers I’ve had a problem here due to your insubordination.”
“Of course,” she said, taken aback. “Please follow me.”
She escorted me toward a heavy steel door, unlocking a series of bolts with her right hand, while pressing her left palm against a security pad.
She punched in a final code and the door slid open. “Mr. Harris’s cell is down the hallway on the left. Just buzz when you’re finished.”
I walked through and she closed the door behind me. I heard the bolts slide into place with a kind of finality.
I’d never been to the holding cells before. The hallway was glaringly bright, and the ceiling and concrete floor were all painted the same dull gray. There was a long strip of tiny glass rooms on either side. Only two were lit, one on the right, one on the left. After passing several empty cells, I reached the first occupied one. I stiffened as I walked past, making sure not to glance in.
“Boo,” a voice rang out from the cell, causing me to jump. Instinctively, I looked toward the sound. A man sat on the corner of his cot. He had dark hair and stubble covered his face. One leg was crossed over the other and he jiggled it furiously. Our eyes met, and he grinned.
It was the driver I’d caught impersonating the PAE officer in front of Spectrum. I stood frozen for a moment, staring.
“Hello, again,” he said, and laughed uproariously. This man was crazy. I couldn’t help but wonder what he had in the truck. I looked away.
He continued laughing as I walked down the hallway. It made me sick that Link was being held in a place like this.
I passed another four empty cells before I reached Link, and the thoughts of the PAE impersonator disappeared. He sat on the floor in front of his cot. His shirt was torn in several places and a dark bruise colored one eye. Despite everything that had happened today, my heart still leapt to see him. I knocked lightly, wondering if the sound would make it through the heavy glass wall—it was at least three inches thick. I hoped Link would hear me. Then I noticed the air holes in the wall and moved closer to them.
“Link?” I called.
His shoulders tightened at the sound of my voice, but he didn’t look up.
“Link,” I said louder this time. “Please, talk to me.” I pressed my palms against the glass, wishing I could put my arms around him, stroke his hair, comfort him. “Are you okay? Let me help get you out of here.”
I watched Link’s chest rise and fall. His breathing was fast, labored. I waited a moment, hoping he’d come to me, that he just needed a second to compose himself. Only he didn’t get up. He didn’t even glance in my direction. He just continued to sit there, his fists pushing into the ground so hard that I could see the veins and muscles protruding from his arms.
“Link,” I repeated, struggling not to yell. “Do not ignore me!” I needed to get him to listen, to take back what he said at the race, and to have everything go back to normal.
He finally looked in my direction. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his voice restrained, distant. “Go home, Madden. You don’t belong here.”
“Go home? And what, let you make some sort of martyr of yourself? That is not happening.”
“Finally,” the other prisoner called out. “I needed some entertainment. Nothing like Purple drama to pass the time.”
Anger raged through me. “Mind your place,” I hissed before turning back to Link. “I’m not letting you rot in here. We… you… can still fix this.”
He wasn’t listening. I leaned my forehead on the glass and closed my eyes. Before today, there was still a little part of me that hoped we’d wind up together. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. “Please, Link,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “I can’t just leave you here.”
I felt him there before he spoke. “It’s not your decision to make.” His voice was like a slap. My eyes flew open at the tone.
Despite his anger, I could see the emotion in his eyes as he looked at me. There had to be a way to get through to him.
“Link…” I tried to come up with the right thing to say. There just weren’t any words. “I’m so sorry about Aldan. I really am,” I began, keeping my voice low. “I don’t know why he made the decision he did, but you can’t let his actions destroy your life too.”
“Don’t you see,” he said, his eyes longing for me to understand. “It wasn’t a decision. It was a prank. Aldan got killed for a stupid prank. This entire system is a farce. His performance today proved that.”
I was almost too stunned to speak. “Link, you can’t talk like that.” He was obviously out of his mind. If the ministers heard him, they’d keep him locked up forever. “Keep your voice down,” I warned him. “Today was horrible, it truly was. But the rules are in place for a reason. Destiny has to be protected. You know that.”
He gave a hoarse laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Aldan didn’t believe that. And I don’t, either. I’m done, Madden.”
I stared at him in shock. “What do you mean, you’re done?
“I’m not going back to work to support the same government that just killed my brother.”
“That’s grief talking,” I said, horrified. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Did he want another Event to take place? Millions of lives lost out of revenge for Aldan’s death? “Your jo
b as a Specialist makes the world a better place, Link. It was your destiny to become one and destiny is never wrong.”
“I’m making things worse, not better, Madden. I’m not going to be a part of it any more.”
He sounded so confident, so sure of himself. Link had always struggled with some of the harsher sides of our government, but just like everyone else, accepted the reality of the situation.
“You know that things are better since the destiny enforcement began,” I said. “Crime. Unemployment. Homelessness. Starvation.” I ticked them off on my fingers one by one. “They’re all problems from the past. You’ve read how it was before Og harvested the first destiny. It was dangerous when people were unfocused.”
“You’re missing the point,” Link said.
I crossed my arms in front of me. “Well then maybe you should enlighten me,” I said, temper flaring. Arguing with him had always been like beating my head against a wall.
“I spend my days ruining lives, Madden. You realize that only one percent of the babies I designate are Purples? Do you know how many are Ashes?”
I shook my head no. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He continued to spew statistics. “Thirty-two percent. Another twenty-four percent are Slate. Can you imagine what it would feel like to have your child designated to one of the outer rings?” He looked at me. “Can you?”
“I hardly think that would happen,” I shot back. “If it did, I would accept it. That’s the system we live with. It’s not perfect, but it works better than the alternative.”
“People used to have the freedom to define their own lives, Madden. They had a choice. The future was undefined. It could be anything. They could be anything.”
I’d had enough of this. I had to remind him of the stakes.
“Choice is a luxury we no longer have,” I snapped. “It’s a small price to pay for safety. Billions of people died during the Event. Ninety percent of our world—gone within one week. Because John Crilas decided to ignore his destiny. All he had to do was close a door. He didn’t. And so here we are. Our government is barely keeping things on track as it is. Your job is a big part of what maintains our safety. All of us.”
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