It reminded Lucy of a mall in downtown Portland; it was built straight up, maneuverable by a series of escalators, and if you stood on the top level and looked down, the shoppers moving around below appeared tiny and indistinguishable; little blobs of bustling people. She had heard about a man plummeting to his death off the top floor of the mall when she was very little, and the story stuck with her. Every time her mother took her to the mall, she would travel up the climbing escalators with a real and terrible sense of her own mortality.
Lucy realized with a growing pit in her stomach that it would not take much for someone to stand atop the guardrail and plunge down through the center of the tower of Kymberlin. The thought made Lucy queasy. She leaned and tried to see what lay at the bottom, but she felt a firm hand on her back before she could get a glance. She yelped and jumped back, afraid of reprimand and frightened by the sudden appearance of someone so close to her.
She turned and saw Cass’s dad standing next to her.
“It’s a long fall,” Claude told her, but without the warning tone she was anticipating.
“What’s at the bottom?” she asked.
“Like the floor of a glass-bottomed boat. Like you are walking on water.”
Lucy nodded. “It’s...”
“A stunning piece of architecture, yes.”
She saw the twinkle in Claude’s eye and she nodded again. “It reminds me of this mall back home.”
Claude flinched and drew a sharp breath through his teeth. The reference had offended him, and Lucy blushed. Comparing his masterpiece to a shopping mall.
“I always thought of it more as a piece of art.” He looked up and scanned the crowd and then put a hand on Lucy’s back, pushing her toward the growing party. “Go, enjoy. There’s plenty of time to stare off into the abyss. It’s a welcome party for you, is it not?”
She walked away from Claude, leaving him standing near the railing, and he watched her walk back toward her family. She surveyed the other people milling around with wan, tired smiles plastered on their faces. As more people arrived, everyone showed an exuberance of warmth and glee.
A man walked by carrying a platter with bubbling champagne, and Lucy swiped one swiftly. She sucked it down and deposited the empty glass on a nearby table. A different man walked by and Lucy swiped a second glass. But it was the third glass that drew Maxine’s attention, like she had a beacon in place for her daughter’s misbehavior. She stormed over, her eyes honed in on the glass in Lucy’s hand. Under her mother’s watchful stare, Lucy made a gallant show of grabbing a fourth glass and gulping the bubbly liquid down before Maxine took a swipe. She drank half the glass before her mother wrestled the alcohol away from her.
“Excuse me,” Maxine hissed. “Let’s not meddle with poor choices today.” She had Harper by the hand, and the child pulled her toward a chocolate fountain. “I’m serious,” she added, as if her tone hadn’t conveyed enough conviction. Then in a show of mental fortitude, Maxine, without breaking eye contact, finished Lucy’s glass of champagne and handed her daughter back the empty flute.
“Ha!” Lucy guffawed, a smooth and warm sensation spreading from her chest to her arms. She pointed at her mother, a wiggly index finger, and felt a surge of confidence. “We’re here. It’s a party...for us.” She hiccupped. And smiled. “Just because I did that doesn’t mean I’m drunk.”
“Remember that you live with me,” Maxine said, and she stumbled a few more feet at Harper’s behest. “Wise choices,” she reiterated before turning her back, shooting her daughter a scornful stare.
Lucy watched a tall member of the wait staff waltz by her, and she eyed another glass of champagne, but she let it disappear into the crowd. Standing tall, Lucy watched the crowd ebb and flow; there were faces that she recognized mixed with faces that she didn’t. The elevator dinged, the glass doors opened, and the crowd cheered as more people disembarked. Their hair was ratted and their clothes dingy, but each wore a smile as they walked out through the throngs of Kymberlin residents.
A young man, tall and blond, with a slender build and a high forehead, raised his glass in a toast, and those who had gathered clinked their glasses together in a salute. It was then Lucy noticed Huck and Gordy, huddled together near the edge of the room, watching the people with satisfied smiles. Huck leaned over and whispered something to his son, and Gordy nodded in the affirmative. Then the older man disappeared—slipping out through the partiers relatively unnoticed.
Lucy spun and tried to focus her eyes. Leading outward from the tower were four long sky bridges expanding out over the ocean. Those bridges connected to the mounds Lucy had spotted from the shore. They were enclosed and made of glass; as she watched Huck walk down the bridge, it looked as though he walked on nothing at all. Like walking on water, Claude had said. Like walking on air, Lucy thought.
She felt a nudge and turned, expecting to see one of her brothers, but it was Cass who stood holding a champagne flute in her hand, her other hand draped over her waist. She looked at Lucy expectantly, her eyebrows raised.
“Hello there my little Lark,” Cass said. “So? Thoughts?”
Lucy hiccupped. She frowned. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Cass laughed. She threw her head back and giggled. “Really? Already? We’ve only just arrived.”
“It’s just all the,” she hiccupped again, “bubbles.”
“Of course.” Cass laughed again and put a hand on Lucy’s bicep. “The bubbles. Of course.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You ready to ditch this place? See my place?”
Lucy turned. “You have your own place?”
Cass nodded. “Bein sûr, ami.”
“Then why do I have to live with my parents?” Lucy asked with a hiccup. She wondered where Grant would live, since he didn’t have parents. Maybe he’d have roommates again. She hoped that he would also have his own place and that she could join him; she let her thoughts linger on how good it would feel to have a place of their own, just the two of them. Then she shook the thought away. She’d have to get him here first, and then she could spend time dreaming of hours alone in his apartment with an ocean view.
“You get your own apartment at twenty-two. The rules of Huck. It’s an arbitrary number...one that happens to benefit me.” She held her glass in one hand and grabbed Lucy’s hand with the other, pulling her toward one of the sky bridges. With one last look behind them, they left the crowd and journeyed onward, venturing along the enclosed walkway. The ocean floated by underneath their feet.
“It’s all glass,” Lucy said breathlessly. She watched her feet glide forward, suspended high above the waves. “It makes me feel...”
“Like you’re flying?”
“No.” She stopped and rested her hand along the transparent wall—nothing but horizon on either side.
“This way,” Cass said and she motioned for Lucy to follow. They tripped along, reaching the end and finding themselves in a small lobby with six doors. Each door opened to a different descending staircase. Cass pushed on door number five, and then they clomped down the stairs. The walls of the stairwell were transparent as well. Lucy looked up and stifled a shocked gasp. She could see several other people moving in adjacent stairwells across the way.
“We’re in the ocean,” Lucy said as she followed Cass downward. They paused on a landing and the water licked the wall beside them. Tiny collections of seaweed and foam pushed against the glass. She half-expected to see a shark fin swim by. “On the ocean. In the ocean. We’re on the ocean. In the ocean.”
With a laugh, Cass nodded. “Oh my darling, Lucy. Will you be okay?”
“The world is gone, all the people are gone, and we’re here on the ocean. An island...an island in the ocean.”
“He wants the earth to heal,” Cass replied. “So, he took the people from the earth and sent them to sea.” She opened the door and pushed it wide. In front of them was a long hallway, similar to the design of the System. As Lucy follow
ed Cass, she felt like she was walking in a hallway of a moving hotel; the floor underneath her swayed. She blinked and took a gulp of cold air.
“Is it moving?” Lucy asked.
“Darling, that’s the champagne,” Cass said. She reached a door and pointed with a wide smile. “Look.” Her name, Cassandra Salvant, was written in a flowery script and engraved into a brass nameplate. She reached into her pocket and produced a silver key. Slipping the key into the lock and then turning the knob, Cass swung the door open. They walked inside.
The lights of the apartment were on a motion sensor and they engaged, filling the room with a low, warm, glow. The far wall was glass, like the sky bridge and the stairwell. Outside, the horizon was growing darker as the sun set out of their sight. Lucy walked forward and stared at the endless expanse of water just beyond the wall. The wall itself was a giant window—Lucy felt like she could just walk straight through and step into the ocean, like nothing would stop her.
“I feel so...exposed,” Lucy said. She looked at the rest of the room. A kitchen and a sunken living room with a sofa, a credenza against the shared wall, and a bookshelf filled with Cass’s favorites. To the left of the kitchen, in a small nook, was a queen-sized bed. It was covered in a tan comforter and bright orange pillows. There were cut flowers on a two-person kitchen table and Cass let her fingers slide over the petals. Real flowers. She leaned to inhale their sweet aroma.
“I’m going to change,” Cass announced, and she slid her shirt off over her head and tossed it on to her bed.
Lucy put her bag down on the floor and walked to the glass wall in front of her. She could see Cass’s reflection to her side, slipping out of her pants and going through a small dresser for suitable replacements. She pulled out black sweats and a black hoodie, and laughed. Lucy turned.
Cass held the clothing out and dangled them. An emblem was stitched on the right thigh. It had intertwining circles with ivy growing around them and in big block letters across the top: Kymberlin.
“We’ve been issued matching sweatpants?” Lucy asked incredulously and she started to walk toward Cass, to inspect the clothes closer, but she stopped. Visible across Cass’s right side was a dark, purple bruise. Even against her already dark skin, the discoloration was striking. Across her abdomen and up her arms were deep scratches: four long lines etched from her breasts to her stomach.
Cass followed Lucy’s gaze and bit her lip. “Don’t—”
“You never showed me.”
“He cracked a rib. Punched me so many times in the side...like he knew it would hurt the most. Hunter did.” She said his name forcefully. “Hunter,” she said again as if she wanted to lay claim to it. “The other one scratched me...touched me...”
“The other one?” Lucy paused. Hunter’s name had been the only one that ever came up—Cass had never mentioned a second attacker.
“No,” Cass said and she put her hand up. “He knows he was spared. His friend paid the cost for their actions...I couldn’t...”
“Cass!” Lucy rushed forward and hugged her friend with a spontaneous burst of emotion. “I’m so sorry.” She stepped back and tried not to cry.
Cass squeezed her friend’s shoulder and then blew her a kiss with her free hand. “Thank you, but I am fine. Really. I mean…I’ll be fine…it will all be fine.”
“Why did they do it?” Lucy asked. “Why did they hurt you?”
It took a long time for Cass to reply. But when she did, her voice was smooth and calm. “Because they could not hurt the people they were truly mad at,” Cass noted with a nod. She tugged the sweatshirt on over her body and pulled the pants up over her legs; emblem-clad and comfortable, she leaned backward on her bed and stared upward at the ceiling. “All of this, all of it...it’s beautiful.”
Lucy stayed quiet. She looked out the window again, the ocean slipped into the darkness of the evening—the area outside the window nothing more than a black abyss.
“You don’t agree?” Cass asked.
And Lucy sat down on the edge of the bed next to her friend. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed. “It’s a beautiful disaster.”
Lucy left Cass alone in her new apartment and traveled back down the hallway, up the stairwell, across the sky bridge, and back into the welcome party. The effects of her drinking had already started to wane and her head pounded with the threat of a full-scale headache. She scanned the circles of people but did not recognize anyone from her family. A raucous group toward the main elevator to the helipad attempted to cajole her participation in a getting-to-know-your-neighbors game, but Lucy declined and scooted her way to a table against the wall where a woman whose nametag read Miao sat under a sign that read “Ask me about your new home!”
“Good evening,” Miao said. “May I help you find your apartment?” She nodded toward a binder.
“I’m Lucy King,” Lucy said. “I think my family might have already left...”
“Of course, Lucy.” Miao smiled. She didn’t even glance down at her binder. “You are in the executive suites. Sky Bridge 2, landing 4. You’ll find your family’s nameplate on the western side. Would you like me to page a guide?” She put her hand on the table near a small walkie-talkie.
Lucy shook her head, mumbled a thank you, and ducked through the crowd again. She followed Miao’s instructions—floating along Sky Bridge 2, venturing down the steps to the fourth landing—and then scanning the nameplates, she found her family’s new home. The hallway looked identical to Cass’s, but when Lucy knocked on the door and was let in by a sulking Galen, she realized that all apartments on Kymberlin were not created equal.
Theirs was a three-story collection of rooms, with open metal winding staircases leading from one area to another. Like the other apartments, the far wall was all glass and looked out over the ocean. However, they were further up, above sea level, the water licking below them and disappearing out of sight.
From the second story, Lucy could hear Ethan’s voice gaining momentum and intensity. She looked to Galen who mouthed fighting before he slipped down the metal staircase to the lower level. Angling her body just below the exposed loft of their third floor, Lucy tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear everything. So, instead, she walked steadily up the stairs, until she could see her mother, father, and Ethan huddled in an open area. Their voices carried down to her, and she listened to every word.
“Mom, you’re wrong about this. Dead wrong. And I’m not fighting with you. He belongs with me and that’s final. If you’re unwilling to go to battle for me and Teddy, then I’m done.” Ethan paced along the room. He looked at the floor, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“This is not up for debate,” Scott told his son. “If you think we have any power here, you are wrong. Blair has Teddy. And that’s final.”
“That child belongs with me,” Ethan snapped. “How could you just let him go to her without a fight? How could you just hand him over like he was someone’s lost dog? That child is mine. And he will be mine. Or...”
“Or what?” Scott asked, exasperated. “I’ve used every last token of goodwill and favors.”
“Furthermore,” Maxine interjected, “you have no more claim to him than Blair. Let’s not split hairs here, Ethan. That child is an orphan and if Blair can offer him a warm home...”
“Teddy is my responsibility.”
“Well, Ethan,” Maxine replied, “that’s great that you’ve decided to suddenly step up and assume some sort of misguided quest for fatherhood, but where were you when Teddy was having night terrors or wetting the bed? Where were you when he wanted you and you wouldn’t say a damn word? I’m sorry, son, but we don’t think Teddy is best with you. You’re just a kid yourself—”
“This is ridiculous...Blair isn’t even here! She’s hired a nanny to watch Teddy. She’s calling him Theo. Can’t you even see? Can’t you even understand?”
“Could you stop? Remember what you’re up against. Huck will win this batt
le, and you would be wise to let him,” his father added.
Ethan stopped pacing. He hung his head. Lucy rested against the railing.
When he finally straightened up to look at his parents, Lucy could see the defiance in his shoulders and the heavy rise and fall of anger rolling up and down his back. Under his breath, he hissed out an angry expletive and turned toward the staircase. He walked out of the loft and to the stairs and worked his way down the spiral steps: his good leg, his prosthetic leg, his good leg, his prosthetic leg. When he saw Lucy, his nostrils flared and he pushed his mouth tight.
“Move,” he demanded.
“What can I do?” Lucy asked. Her mouth was dry and her words caught in her throat. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”
Ethan scoffed. “Maybe that’s the one thing you should stop. Just stop trying to do anything to help. Because if you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not helping anybody.” His words stung, and Lucy bit her lip to hold back the tears. He slid past her and stormed out of the house, and slammed the door behind him.
Lucy looked up and saw her parents staring at her with interest.
“Taking up eavesdropping as one of your party tricks?” Maxine asked with disdain.
“Stop, Maxine,” Scott chastised. He looked down at Lucy softly. “We were worried you wouldn’t find your way.”
Moving up another rung, Lucy wiped her eyes. “Where do I sleep?” she asked in a quiet voice. She was grateful for her father’s tenderness.
Maxine pointed to her left. Lucy followed her mother’s directions and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. Off of the loft, there was a small bedroom with a twin bed and a chest of drawers. She was certain if she opened the drawers she would find her own pair of Kymberlin-issued sweatpants, but she was too tired and logy to see for herself. She collapsed onto her bed and sat there for a long time pondering her brother’s words. Then she shut the door to block out her parents, who were still speaking in hushed tones. Achy and weepy, Lucy’s hand went to her neck and she felt around for Salem’s cross. When she found her neck bare, she realized with a mixture of sadness and relief that Grant had the necklace around his own neck now. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what he was doing back at the System without her. All of the inhabitants, except for those bound for Copia, had left. It must be strange underground with the empty halls, the barren apartments, she thought.
The Variables (Virulent Book 3) Page 20