Grant saw Blair’s attention flicker in their direction, but she ignored their teasing at her expense and kept talking.
“First things first, we will need all hands on deck for a System sweep prior to calling the Copia residents to the Center.” She looked up. Nate had raised his hand quickly. He cleared his throat to stop her from talking and she paused. “Yes?” she asked, pointing to him.
“Uh, Ma’am?”
“Please just call me Blair. Please.” She smiled.
Nate blinked.
“Blair.” He said the name like he was testing each sound of her name separately. “Ma’am, um, we have a visitor for breakfast this morning. Civilian in our midst, Ma’am. So, perhaps we should wait on discussing…I just wanted to bring it to your attention.” He nodded over to Grant and Grant bowed his head. He wanted to disappear into the wall; he felt every person stare at him and collectively hold his or her breath.
“Oh,” Blair put a hand over her heart and stared at the faces around the room, each of them looking straight back at her with blank expressions. “I’m sorry...I didn’t. I’ll just...” she stammered.
Grant stood up. “I’ll go,” he said and waved goodbye to Dylan, picking up a small breakfast bar off the table.
It was silent as he made his way to the door, and as he grabbed the knob, he heard someone clear his throat.
“Grant can stay,” Dylan announced. “Ms. Truman didn’t have a scheduled meeting with us. She can address us at a more opportune time. It’s Grant’s last day with us, Ms. Truman...he deserves a right to an uninterrupted breakfast. He’s been hanging out with us a lot since everyone left. It’s his right.”
Blair’s head spun to Dylan. She pursed her lips and tapped her fingers against the counter. “You don’t have authority to make that call. He goes. And then I’ll continue. Problem solved.”
“Maybe don’t come into the room and start spewing classified information when a civilian is present,” Nate added. “Ma’am.”
“I...just,” she cleared her throat.
Nate shot his hand up again. “Also, that plan would leave the main elevators unattended.”
Everyone was silent. Grant froze, still by the door, unable to determine if he was supposed to go or stay. Everyone’s eyes were back on Blair. He crinkled his breakfast bar wrapper, hoping it would draw some attention back to him so someone could tell him if he was supposed to leave.
“Station someone at the second elevator. There’s no need to waste a person at the one to the surface.” Blair said this with a flick of her wrist and the guards all exchanged knowing looks. Grant shifted on his feet, Dylan motioned for him to sit, and so he sat down in an empty chair. He ran his hand through his hair and slumped backward, arms crossed.
“With all due respect...your father’s plan is convoluted. No offense,” a guy named Mick said. He was chewing a large piece of bubble gum and he popped it loudly.
A few of the soldiers shook their heads and mumbled to each other, whispering to each other in low voices so Grant couldn’t hear.
“Never underestimate the resourcefulness of our Copia residents,” Blair said. Turning to sneak a look at Grant, she added, “The Copia residents must be led to their meeting and led out of their meeting with strict precision. Their plane waits, after all. Because there are so few of us, it’s important to make sure that we handle everything according to protocol.” She titled her head and uncrossed her legs. Then she slid down off the counter, scanned the room, and cleared her throat. “We follow the plan.”
“Because the plan always works,” Mick muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Blair spun and stared at him. She put her hands on her hips and straightened her back. Mick looked her over from top to bottom, but he didn’t reply. He blew a bubble. “My father asked me to oversee this operation –”
“That’s cute,” Nate interrupted. He bit into an apple, flecks of juice and fruit flying to the ground. He chomped with his mouth open. Stopping mid-bite, he raised his eyebrows. “I was at the meeting, too, Ma’am. You’re here for appearances. And look, I’m not complaining...you’ve got a mighty fine appearance.”
A few of the other guys chuckled and tried to contain their laughter.
Blair’s hands slipped from her hips and she stood lamely in the middle of the room. She frowned and looked to the ground, all of her bravado slipping away. She raised her head and took a step toward the door, and walked right past Grant; he looked away from her and stared at the table in front of him.
Her ankle gave out and she stumbled. Putting her hand out on Grant’s chair to steady herself, she slipped further and tumbled to her knees. The room went silent, and no one dared to breathe. Ryley cleared his throat and went to her as everyone else watched. He extended his hand and Blair looked up. Her eyes were cold like stone, but she took his hand and he helped her up to her feet.
“You should excuse Nate,” Ryley said with a nod backward. “Your father recruited him from a specialized program. He’s got no credentials. Practically a mall cop.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Nate spat with a glare.
“Mall cop,” Ryley said on his heels without taking his eyes off Blair.
Blair nodded, but remained silent. When she did speak, her voice was tiny and timid. “I’ll be back later, I suppose.” Then she turned to Ryley, “I want to be put to work. Who do I talk to about that? I want to have a part,” she said. “I’m not useless.”
“No one said you were useless, Ma’am,” Ryley declared in a loud voice, speaking over her head to the others, who were now inspecting the floor and the walls with intense focus. “We’ll make sure you have a role.”
Blair mustered a weak smile of gratitude and then continued out the door.
“Blair?” Ryley added, stopping her as she started to disappear into the hallway. “We are all very grateful for your father’s work. We would not be here if we didn’t support him.”
“Well,” Blair said, turning her head, “thank you. I’ll be sure to let him know that he picked a good team.” Then she marched back down the hallway, the echo of her shoes fading as each second passed.
None of them knew when they were supposed to leave. The guards seemed entirely nonchalant about a departure time, despite the fact that the other exits from the System were perfectly planned. After breakfast, Dylan had told Grant that he needed to get ready for the departure and he took off, which left Grant fully bereft of friends.
So, after Grant meandered around the Center for a while, he decided that the only place left to go was Cass’s hideout. He followed the path he had used many times before, often with Lucy close by; crawling under the breakaway wall, up through the secret elevator, and into the room that had been his second home. It looked the same as it always had—bright and welcoming. It was the opposite of everything down below. Maybe Claude had made it that way.
Grant plopped himself down on the beanbag and stared up into the sky. Soon he would be flying through that sky on his way to Copia. He closed his eyes and tried to picture how this afternoon would go, and what he saw was pure chaos: Blair and her dog roaming around attempting to be helpful, the guards suiting up and trying to manage getting the people cleared of the System before making the call to shut it down. When the men back on Kymberlin hit the switch to send the System into darkness, it would kill the solar panels and succumb the underground dome to a future without life. The Underground Systems’ function was brief, but masterful.
Grass and dirt blew across the glass of the skylight and he could tell by the way the long grass swayed and danced that it was windy outside.
Cass had left most of her things in this room. There was a mug with a picture of a cat on it, and a collection of books. He had first kissed Lucy in this room. Or maybe she had kissed him first. He couldn’t remember the full sequence of events, even though it hadn’t happened that long ago. He could only picture her face close to his, her breath tasting like nothing at all,
and the worry that she wouldn’t love him back.
He hoped she had read his letter on her first night of Kymberlin. He hoped that it had helped her feel secure and peaceful, resting in all he felt for her. He never wanted to come across as needy, so he tried to temper his bursting heart sometimes. Maybe someday she would doubt that he cared for her fully; maybe someday she would try to dismiss them as a relationship born of proximity, but he knew better than that.
He hoped that she knew that he was trying to get home to her.
And that he could see a life for them on the Islands. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. He could apprentice with her father—become a man of science. They could live in comfort and luxury, always knowing that they had opted out of a life of tribulation and fear.
Grant realized that he had wasted too much time dreaming about his future; he imagined that the call to their presentation from Huck and their trip to the surface could not be far away now. He crawled off the beanbag and pushed the elevator button. The doors opened immediately and he slipped inside, letting them close on their own. It was time. He couldn’t wait to leave this place. Copia awaited.
A few guards milled around outside Scott’s lab and the Center. They were in full fatigues, lugging around their weaponry like they were headed off to war. In pairs they marched in formation from one end of the long hallway to the other, and Grant watched them with a sense of unease. He had watched the men (and woman) laugh and engage in drunken silliness, and he’d heard their stories and played cards with them. They had allowed him into their small circle, but it was clear that now they had pushed him out.
They were all business. Nate nodded wordlessly as Grant passed him in the hall. When he saw Dylan standing at attention against the doors to the Center, he stopped and jabbed his friend playfully in the arm, hoping to draw him out of his dour mood.
“Hello,” Dylan said officially, but he didn’t budge. His weapon was pointed at the ground, his arms stiff at his sides.
“Man,” Grant said, scratching his head. “You are all crazy serious about this departure.”
Dylan closed his eyes. It looked like it pained him not to talk to Grant in their familiar way. “I’m just working,” he finally answered with an apologetic smile. “I have my orders.” He sniffed and stood up a little straighter. “It’s nothing personal.” Then he turned to look straight at Grant and the penetrating glare made Grant’s hair stand on end. “That’s all you need to know. It’s not personal.”
“Right,” Grant said and he took an instinctive step backward.
Mick from breakfast was right behind him, smacking his gum and chattering into a walkie-talkie. He sidestepped away from Grant to avoid running into him and nodded to acknowledge his presence.
“You have a nice afternoon, son?” Mick asked.
“Me?” Grant pointed to himself and looked back at Dylan, who was staring straight ahead.
“Well, I certainly wasn’t asking any of the guards. We’ve been too busy to have a nice day,” Mick replied.
“I think so,” Grant answered. “Just anxious.”
Mick gnawed on his gum and then snapped it loudly behind his teeth. He was about to reply when Blair appeared, marching down the hall in her skirt, holding on tightly to Frank’s leash. The dog trotted happily by her side, his pink tongue sticking out of his mouth, bouncing along to the rhythm of her walk.
Grant walked down the hall to escape the congregation and rested against the corner. He pushed his hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling, hoping that no one would notice him. He didn’t have anywhere to go.
“Ryley isn’t back, sir,” a young man named Jorge said to Mick, rushing up from down the hall, holding his standard-issue rifle across his arm.
“Is that bad?” Blair asked, immediately entering the conversation at full-speed. She tugged on Frank’s collar and pushed on his rump. “Sit, Frank. Sit.” Frank barked.
“I bet he’s just being thorough,” Mick replied, shrugging. He checked his gun and then holstered it.
Nate approached and cleared his throat. “Ready for the announcement, Mick? We should get people up here soon. I have the video from Huck cued and ready to go. Scott’s boxes are in place.”
Mick’s head shot up and he scanned the area quickly. Grant slid further down the hall, hoping he was fully out of sight. Still, their voice carried to him. He felt his heart beat wildly in his chest. Scott’s boxes. He had heard them. Scott had never talked about boxes to him; he had certainly never seen Scott tinker with anything that could be described as a box. He tried to push it away, tried to play it off as something innocuous. He shook his head and mumbled to himself, “It’s nothing,” which he wanted to believe with his whole heart.
“Jesus, Nate,” Mick chastised in a loud whisper. “We have civilians in the hall.”
Their voices died away. Grant peered out again. The guards marched past.
Blair took a step forward after they cleared. “Maybe you should see where Ryley is? Maybe remind him that he’s supposed to be back?” She looked at the boys pleadingly.
“Sure,” Nate replied and he tossed his walkie-talkie to Jorge who caught it and sighed.
“Attention Guard Command Three. Please finish up your sweep and return to the Center for operation King’s Box. I repeat, finish up your sweep and report to the lab to be equipped for operation King’s Box.” Jorge tossed the walkie-talkie back. “Is that better, Blair?”
“Sure,” she shrugged with a smile. “I want this all to go well just as much as you do.”
Grant slid away and sat down again.
The guards marched up and down the hall from the end closest to the elevators to the end closest to the exit from the theater room. Four of them marched together, and they never looked up the hallway to Scott’s lab to see Grant sitting there, waiting for the rest of his Copia compatriots to arrive.
Blair walked around the corner with Frank and she jumped a bit. She eyed Grant with suspicion and concern.
“I didn’t see you there,” she said quickly. “How long have you been here?”
Grant shrugged and smiled. “Just waiting,” he said. “Eager.”
She didn’t reply. Frank wandered down toward him and barked once. Reaching out, Grant gave him a small scratch behind the ears and the dog responded by licking his palm in long slurps. It tickled Grant’s hand and he smiled. Mick rounded the corner and looked at Grant.
“You’re everywhere, Grant Trotter,” he said with a hint of annoyance.
“I don’t have anywhere—” Grant started, but he realized that Mick wasn’t listening.
“It’s time, Blair. I need to start the call for the Copia residents to arrive for their briefing. You ready?”
She shook her head and looked confused. Looking down at Grant, she handed him Frank’s leash. “Hold this,” she instructed, and she turned back to Mick. “You should let me try,” she said.
“Try what?” Mick asked, distracted.
“Let me try to get Ryley on the radio.” She held out her hand. “Maybe I’ll have better luck getting him back...since his absence here is a clear breach of my father’s protocol.”
“What?” Mick stared at her. “A breach of your father’s...Blair...listen...we’re about to call the Copia residents to the Center.” He looked at Grant and then looked at her. “Time’s up, sweetie. Ryley’s probably off dealing with some Copia-related issue. Maybe he’s taking a dump. Does it even matter? He’ll be back. I’m not wasting time on him. Protocol. Who gave you the right to assume what our protocol should be?”
“My father gave me the right,” Blair answered. “I have the ultimate power and authority here.”
Grant wished he could disappear into the wall. He fiddled with Frank’s leash.
Blair held out her hand. She kept her hand out until Mick put the radio in her palm. He crossed his arms and chewed his gum like cud.
Clicking on the walkie-talkie, Blair cleared her t
hroat, and mustered up her most professional sounding voice. “We are missing Private Ryley. Private Ryley, we are ten minutes away from needing you at the starting point for our operation. Please report to the lab.”
She went to go hand the radio back to Mick, but then she snatched it back at the last minute and added, “This is Blair.”
“Good,” Mick sneered. “I’m sure Private Ryley is now busting his ass just for you, Blair Truman.”
Nate poked his head around the corner. “You ready, boss?”
Mick jabbed his thumb toward Blair. “We would be if our ultimate power and authority could start thinking of something else besides Ryley’s current whereabouts.”
Nate snickered. A few other guards congregated and watched the spectacle. Grant felt his face flash hot with embarrassment for her. He continued to study the floor and pet Frank’s neck, with the hopes that no one would draw him into the conversation.
“She had to radio him herself,” Mick said and he crossed his arms.
“That’s so warm and fuzzy. Extend a girl a hand and win her heart,” Nate teased. “I bet Ryley’s overjoyed that Blair needs his presence.”
The guys laughed. A man with bright red hair and a cross tattoo on his neck leaned over to another guard and said, “Oh yeah, now that Blair needs me, I’ll be sure to make sure I do my job now.”
The laughter died away and Blair’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She spun, looking for a friendly face, and found none; even Grant looked away when she looked down. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she tried to wipe them away quickly, but everyone saw that she had let them get to her. She was trapped in the hallway—Scott’s lab on one end and the mocking guards at the other. Grant stood up. He put a hand on her arm.
The Variables (Virulent Book 3) Page 28