The Survivor

by Dylan Steel

  It didn’t matter. She’d just grab a drink while she waited.

  Making her way to the counter, Sage pressed her palm to the scanner, eyeing the menu.

  A short, portly man popped up from behind the counter, startling her.

  “What’ll ya have?” he asked.

  “Oh! I—Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  He pressed his lips together in a poor attempt at patience, nodding at her to answer the question.

  “Right. Sorry.” She glanced over the menu one last time before returning her attention to him. “I’ll have a Khaya shake with extra protein granules.” Her stomach rumbled as she paused, and she quickly added, “And a butter biscuit.”

  “That it?”

  She nodded.

  “Be right up,” the man said, disappearing around the corner.

  Maybe it was all in her head, but she could’ve sworn the pregnancy was already making her hungrier than normal. She wanted to wait until Everett showed up, but she didn’t think she’d be able to. The biscuit should hold her over until he got there, and she doubted she’d have any trouble eating more once he joined her.

  The man returned, holding out a plate and a glass filled with a thick teal liquid.

  Numbers flashed across the scanner, showing that her balance was down below two hundred credits—and this was before ordering a full dinner. She grimaced. This was why they usually ate at home. And why she went through so many meal bars even though she’d probably prefer the taste of her own shoes.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, grabbing her order.

  As she turned and looked for an open table, her heart sank. The café didn’t have a ton of seating, and it was filling up fast. In fact, she’d be lucky to find a seat at all. Apparently, they’d decided to eat at the same time as everyone else.

  Shuttering her disappointment, Sage pushed her way across the room, searching for an empty table. No luck. There were a few open seats, but they were only at already-occupied tables, and that wasn’t terribly helpful.

  Her eyes paused on a guy a few tables away. She stopped, unable to tear her gaze away. He was at a table for four and was eating alone—well, drinking alone, at least. He’d ordered the orange version of her drink, but he’d barely touched it.

  She frowned. There was something familiar about him. She knew she’d seen him before. Recently.

  Maybe it was the fact that she knew she was untouchable for awhile—as long as she was pregnant, she didn’t have to worry about having her Chances stripped. Or maybe she was just tired—sitting and scarfing down her snack sounded pretty wonderful. Whatever the reason, she was emboldened. Her former fears weren’t holding her back.

  Without thinking, she found herself heading straight for him.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” She jerked her head toward the tables behind her. “It’s kinda busy tonight.”

  He gripped his glass a little tighter, glancing at her and then over her shoulder. “Just you?”

  “For now.” She mustered up a warm smile. “I’m waiting for someone, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

  “Huh,” he grunted.

  She shifted her weight, lifting her dishes in question. “So…?”

  “Sure. Whatever.” He shrugged.

  Despite the lukewarm welcome, Sage set her things down and slipped into the chair opposite him, grateful to have a place to wait for Everett. Hopefully, by the time he got there, the crowd would have thinned out a bit.

  “Thanks.”

  Another grunt.

  “I’m Sage,” she said, trying again.

  His eyes flicked to hers. “Dred,” he said reluctantly, not bothering to hide his irritation.

  “Dred,” she repeated.

  She smiled again, taking a bite of her biscuit as she looked him over. He wasn’t paying any attention to her. His focus was split between his drink and the window. She wasn’t sure whether he was waiting for someone or if her presence just made him incredibly uncomfortable. Whichever one was the case, she didn’t want to sit in silence.

  “You look familiar, Dred. Have we met before?” She squinted at him thoughtfully, still trying to place him.

  “No,” he said flatly, barely sparing her a glance.

  “Are you sure? I could swear I—”

  “No,” he said again, more firmly this time. He gave her a quick once-over, seemingly more for her sake than his.

  Sage continued staring at him as she nibbled on her biscuit. Her mind made the connection suddenly, and she nearly choked.

  He didn’t notice. He kept looking out the window and raised his glass to his lips.

  Taking a drink to wash down the remains of her biscuit, she watched him cautiously. “It’s a little warm for that, isn’t it?”

  Keeping his focus outside the window, he lifted his eyebrow lazily in a silent question.

  “Your jacket.” She swept her hand in front of him. “It’s not even fall yet.”

  A tight smile spread over his lips as he finally glanced in her direction. “No, but it gets cooler in the evenings. I like to be prepared.”

  She lowered her voice as she leaned forward. “It’s also excellent for Rogues who want to hide their identity,” she murmured, pinning him deliberately with her gaze. “Long sleeves help with that.”

  He froze.

  “I knew I recognized you,” she said, relaxing back into her chair. “You were there the day the Cabinet was attacked. I saw you.”

  “I don’t know what you think you saw,” he said, lowering his voice, “but it wasn’t me. I’m not a Rogue.”

  “I see.” She sipped her shake. “So you’d have no problem showing me your bracelet?”

  “I don’t have to show you anything,” he growled.

  “No?” Her eyebrow shot up. “So you’d prefer if I just stripped a Chance?”

  He leaned forward, sneering. “Go right ahead. I’d be happy to return the favor.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “I’m not. But you’re welcome to test that theory.”

  “Well, if you’re not a Rogue, that wouldn’t really be fair,” she admitted, looking down at her glass. “I’m pregnant. You can’t strip any of my Chances right now.”

  “And if I were a Rogue, I would want to protect that secret at all costs, wouldn’t I? What would be stopping me from killing you where you sit?” Sage stilled, watching him closely as he continued. “I could drop you in front of all these people before you or any of them knew what happened. I’d be long gone by the time they realized their precious bracelets had no effect on me.”

  “You don’t think very highly of me, Dred,” she said slowly. “I’m quite capable of protecting myself from you without using my bracelet.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “But of course, this is all hypothetical, isn’t it? Because you’re not a Rogue.”

  “Do you really think I’d be sitting here if I was? Why would a Rogue do that?”

  Sage tilted her head, studying him. “I really wouldn’t know. But I think you’ve misunderstood me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have no interest in turning you in if you’re a Rogue,” she said quietly, licking her lips.

  His eyes narrowed. “Why might that be?”

  She paused long enough to take another sip of her drink. This was a dangerous conversation. Even if she wasn’t mistaken about this man’s identity, she’d just admitted to treason in a public place while talking to a complete stranger. She’d have to hope Everett’s recent Lawless connections would be willing to pull some strings for her too, to make any record of this go away. After all—as he’d pointed out—they did owe her. Either way, she had too much at stake not to have this conversation right now. She didn’t know if she’d ever get another opportunity.

  “Because you have something I want.”

  Dred’s face was blank. “Which is?”

  “Freedom.”

  His lips twitched. “And you don’t think you have that now? Did someone force y
ou to walk inside this building? Buy that shake? Talk to me?”

  Unexpected rage flared up inside her. Her hands shook as she set her drink down. “The illusion of freedom isn’t the same thing as true freedom,” she said evenly. “I can do what I want only as long as I want the right things. But I’m pretty sure you already know that.”

  He paused. “The kind of freedom you’re talking about comes at a price.”

  She matched his gaze. “The alternative is more costly.”

  “I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”

  “I’d think it was obvious.” She tapped the rim of her class. “I want your help. To become like you.”

  He glanced out the window again. “I can’t help you.”

  “Because you’re not a Rogue?”

  “Exactly.”

  Sage bit her lip. “But if you were? Would you help me?”

  “If I were, I’d want something in return for helping you. Like I said, what you want comes at a price.”

  “Name your price. What would it cost for two people’s freedom?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Two people? I didn’t realize we were talking about more than just you.”

  “Well,” she said, “we might be. Hypothetically, of course.”

  “Hypothetically,” he said slowly, studying her cautiously, “you would need a way to remove your bracelet, and I would need something to make the risk worthwhile. For two people, it’s hard to say what that would be exactly, but I’m sure it would be substantial.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m sure you’ve heard what Eprah does to Rogues they catch.”

  “I know better than most,” she whispered, remembering what she’d seen in the Dungeon.

  Dred ground his teeth and looked across the street. He stiffened. “I have to go,” he said, standing abruptly.

  Sage grabbed his arm, stopping him. “What if I wanted to continue this conversation some other time?”

  His eyes trailed down to where her hand rested on his arm. “That would be a bad idea.”

  She shrugged, letting go. “Humor me.”

  He leaned forward, and all the hairs on the back of Sage’s neck stood on end as he spoke quietly in her ear. “I’ll be near the north gate in two weeks, an hour after sunset. We can talk again then—as long as you don’t waste my time.”

  And then he was gone.

  ***

  “Everett? You home?” Sage called as she walked through the door.

  She glanced in the bathroom and then poked her head behind the bedroom curtain. “Guess not,” she mumbled. Frowning, she turned back to the living room and headed for the couch, collapsing on the less lumpy end.

  After Dred left, Sage had waited in the café for another hour, but Everett never showed up. She was disappointed he had to work late, but she was so excited about the possibility of the Rogue helping them get out of Eprah that she almost didn’t care that he’d missed their date.

  Almost. A small grin flitted over her lips. She’d make sure he made it up to her somehow.

  Chewing the inside of her lip, she checked the time again and sighed. She’d give him another half hour, but then she was walking over to the Cabinet to make sure everything was ok. This shift was lasting way longer than it was supposed to.

  Already restless, she hopped up and grabbed a meal bar from the kitchen. Her appetite had disappeared right along with Dred, but it was finally returning. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t wound up eating any more at the café. If she had any hope of paying her way to freedom, she should probably stick to meal bars for the next four days. With some careful planning, they could probably pull together three or four hundred credits by the time they met him.

  But Dred would probably want more than a couple hundred credits. She’d have to think of something she could get that he might want, something that a Rogue would find useful—not to mention a way to get the bracelet off their wrists.

  She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cabinet as she let out a groan. Bracelets were never removed. As far as she knew, the only time they were ever taken off was at the Bokja Tournament, and that was only for students, and she wasn’t a student anymore. Not that it mattered. The tournament was still months away—definitely outside of her two week time constraints. How in Eprah’s name was she supposed to get it off?

  Frowning, she reached for a glass and bit into half the meal bar, hoping it would be less awful if she finished it quickly. Besides, food would probably help her think—even if it was barely edible.

  “Sage Indarra.” The familiar female avatar flickered into view, and Sage jumped in surprise. “There is a message for you.”

  Sage cringed, forcing the big chunk of meal bar to scrape its way down her throat. “Accept,” she rasped.

  The avatar nodded and continued. “Beautification would like to notify you that they have finished processing a citizen whose absence may affect you: Everett Edington. If this negatively impacts your pairing duties, you may assume a new pairing assignment from the Cabinet of the People. Thank you.”

  Sage froze, staring at the now-void space where the avatar had been standing a moment earlier. Her ears started ringing with a strange, high-pitched tune.

  It wasn’t possible.

  Everett was gone.

  23. BLAME

  Fortunately, the man standing guard outside Perjaash recognized Sage this time. It was a good thing too—she was still wearing a slip dress from earlier that would have made showing her brand a bit of a challenge. Not that she cared. Her whole focus was on finding out what happened to Everett.

  She’d skipped grief, stuffing down the crippling ache in her chest, going straight to anger. Her first stop was the Cabinet, then Beautification—she needed to make sure the message she’d received was true. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. They’d both received more Chances, and they’d been together earlier that morning. And he’d promised to meet her for dinner.

  He couldn’t just be gone.

  But he was.

  No one at the Cabinet could remember seeing him after lunch. And Beautification confirmed that the message she’d received was accurate, though they didn’t go into many details. They just said that, at the end, his Chances had been stripped in rapid succession by multiple citizens.

  It was enough of a clue to lead her to where she was standing now. At the entry of the elitist club that stood for everything she hated.

  Her eyes scanned the room. The crowd was a lot thinner tonight than the last couple times she’d been there, which was fortunate because it didn’t take long to find a familiar face. Her fists clenched at her side when she spotted Nic, and she didn’t waste a moment pushing through the bodies gyrating on the dance floor, heading straight for him.

  “Did you do it?” she hissed. “Did you kill him?”

  Nic looked up, surprise flashing across his face. “Sage. Hi.”

  “Answer me,” she demanded.

  “Uh, Sage…” He looked over her shoulder. Some of the people standing closest to them had slowed their dancing to stare at them. “Why don’t we go somewhere we can talk with a bit more privacy?”

  “I don’t want to go talk. I want you to answer my question.”

  Sage felt a strong hand clamp around her upper arm. She twisted, coming face to face with Kai. “Was it you?” she growled.

  “I think you should listen to Nic and take this conversation somewhere else,” Kai said evenly, beginning to walk toward the back of the club without loosening his grip on her. Nic followed.

  “I think you should let me go,” Sage said, anger blazing behind her eyes.

  Kai ignored her. It was only a matter of seconds before they reached a door in the back of the club, one Sage hadn’t noticed before. Kai pressed his hand to the scanner to unlock the door and then pulled her inside a long, dimly-lit hallway.

  “Should we get Aidon and the others?” Nic asked, looking at Kai as they stopped halfway down the hall.

  Sage glared at him
. “If they had anything to do with—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Kai interrupted, pushing open another door.

  The three of them spilled inside a small room. There was nothing particularly special about it, just a few couches and chairs scattered inside, but it was definitely far away from all the other Kunbriat in the club. Definitely quiet. Private.

  Kai locked the door and finally released her.

  “You both did it, didn’t you?” Sage said, whirling around to face them.

  Nic winced. “Why don’t you have a seat, Sage.”

  “Why don’t you answer my question?”

  “That wasn’t a request,” Kai said firmly, gesturing to the couch.

  Sage’s nostrils flared. She stomped over to the couch and plunked herself down angrily. “Fine. I’m sitting. Now tell me if you killed my pair.”

  “We didn’t,” Kai said calmly, taking a seat across from her as Nic chose a seat beside her. “You did.”

  Her mouth fell open. “How dare you—”

  “Sage,” Kai cut her off, “were you or were you not told of the consequences of revealing Kunbriat secrets to the uninitiated?”

  She looked back and forth between Kai and Nic in horror. “I didn’t—”

  “I can assure you, Sage, this is not the time to begin lying,” Kai warned in a low voice. “We’ve seen the footage. We know you told him about the Kunbriat.”

  His words sent chills down her spine. Everett had promised her that he’d get their conversation erased, but he must not have done it quickly enough. And if they’d watched the footage, had they heard Everett declare his allegiance to the Lawless? How he’d asked her to join him and how she hadn’t turned him in?

  Her heart started thudding faster in her chest. Would the Kunbriat turn her over to Eprah for treason? Having her Chances stripped would be a mercy over the alternative of spending the rest of her life locked in a cell beneath the Peace.

  “The records were partially corrupted,” Kai continued, “but we saw enough. We had sufficient intel to enact our protocols swiftly, and we’re confident he wasn’t able to tell anyone else about us. The threat has been mostly contained. For now.”