“Your turn,” Hatch said, stepping out of the game box and gesturing for Adam to enter.
He wasn’t in the mood, but didn’t want to disappoint Hatch or have him think he was a stupid 14-year-old Cadet, so Adam smiled, said, “OK!” then stepped inside the box and closed the door behind him.
As soon as the door shut, Adam was no longer a Cadet in City 6: he was Captain Republic, taking down virtual bad guys two at a time with a single squeeze of the plastic trigger. Adam had already made it past the hydrofoil (his favorite part) and was now blasting through the bank, quickly finding himself surrounded by robbers. He gripped his gun, sighting one smuggler at a time, then squeezed the trigger and sent each to the marble floor. Gunfire exploded behind him—a smuggler had tagged Adam (Captain Republic) in the shoulder. His helmet sent a jolt of electricity—not much, but enough to grab Adam’s attention.
The game should have been fun—it was one of Adam’s favorites—but even Captain Republic couldn’t wipe away the thought of how stupid Michael had finked on Ana.
He was angry, not just at Michael, but also because Adam couldn’t even confront him. If he did, he’d have to say that Keller had showed him the video. The Chief had insisted that he keep it to himself and not let on that he was wise to Michael’s betrayal.
Easier said than done.
Adam pulled the trigger three times and brought down an approaching trio of robbers with matching head shots. He spun around, looking for more but saw none behind him. They were all dead.
Just like Ana was dead. Adam couldn’t help but blame Michael, now that he had someone to blame.
He moved into another room and immediately pulled the trigger twice more, ignoring a sharp whistle of pain as another bullet tore into his back. One more hit like that and the game box would be ready for Hatch. He didn’t care.
Adam remembered Michael had asked him if he wanted to meet at Nips, and Adam had said he was busy. They did this a few times. He was afraid to see Michael because he was sure he’d start screaming and then wouldn’t be able to stop. A small part of Adam would be happy to see Michael dead.
Like Keller said: an eye for an eye is sometimes best.
Adam ducked, then swiped his thumb on the gun’s butt to roll Captain Republic across the sand, then he emptied his firearm into the remaining smugglers. The level shifted—after a shortcut scene that put Captain Republic on train tracks—and Adam opened the box’s door.
“Your turn,” he said.
“You died already?”
“Nah,” Adam said. “I just don’t want to play anymore.”
Hatch raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. He stepped past Adam into the box and closed the door behind him.
After Hatch came back out awhile later, Adam said he was done.
Hatch offered to play a new game from the beginning, his treat, but Adam couldn’t get in the mood to play, or fake it.
“Sorry,” he admitted, feeling guilty for not being into it. “I just don’t feel like playing.”
Hatch shrugged. “It’s cool. I told Lorena I’d be over soon, anyway. Her parents are both gone from the apartment after six, so I don’t have that much longer to kill anyway. See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” Adam appreciated that Hatch wasn’t making him feel bad about not wanting to play. “Have fun with Lorena!” the enthusiasm not as forced now that he was able to get out of the arcade.
Hatch grinned, looked like he was about to say something to Adam—probably about Lorena—then swallowed whatever it was and said good-bye.
They left the arcade together, but Hatch hung a left at the end of the block, toward Commuters and Lorena’s. Adam kept walking straight toward the Academy and his dorm.
Within a half block, Adam’s thoughts were back on Michael, deep enough to hold him oblivious to the guy racing behind him until it was too late. The mystery man slammed into Adam and sent him sailing to the asphalt.
Adam fell hard, and stayed there for many seconds staring after the running man—a skinny guy with scraggly brown hair, dark-blue pants, and a matching jacket.
Adam’s heart raced as he stood, looking back to see if there was someone in pursuit. Nobody. Yet. He looked ahead again, eyes following the fleeing man through the mostly empty street. At the corner the man paused, glancing between a busy marketplace and what looked like an abandoned storefront. The man darted over to the abandoned shop, ripped some boards covering the front door—never hesitating, as if he’d done this before and the boards were a disguise—and slipped inside.
Adam stared in disbelief, wondering who the man was running from, and what he had done. As he stood there, wondering what—if anything—he should do, Adam heard a familiar whir behind him.
He turned as a hunter orb whizzed overhead, then zipped into the market, immediately followed by another two. Adam watched, open-mouthed, as two City Watch cruisers and one van pulled up to the market and six Watchers ran inside. Lights inside went black. Shots were fired, followed by screaming, then more shots.
What’s happening?
Are there bad guys in the store too? Who are they shooting?
Fear choked Adam, paralyzing him where he stood.
He felt something just under his fear. Something important, something that gave Adam strength to move: his training. He knew what he had to do, and did it without thought.
Adam raced across the street, passing the Watchers’ vehicles as he headed for the marketplace. His adrenaline surged as he stepped inside the market and saw dozens of people huddled on the ground—men, women, children—many crying, some soaked in blood. A few were dead.
A helmeted Watcher approached Adam, black glass mask hiding his face, stick poised to strike him. “Stop right there!” he said through the helmet’s speakers.
Adam raised his hands high, and shook his head, desperate not to be seen as one of the bad guys. He didn’t want to be stunned, or worse, embarrassed.
“I’m Adam Lovecraft. I’m a Cadet: ID number 51166. I think the man you’re looking for is there, across the street.”
Adam turned and pointed toward the other store, the one that looked like it hadn’t seen business in years.
The Watcher looked Adam up and down, helmet likely reading Adam’s body for signs that he was lying. Adam hoped his fear wouldn’t cast him as a perjurer.
“Thanks, kid,” the Watcher said, then turned and barked at his team. Three orbs flew from the market. Four Watchers followed, across the street and into the abandoned shop.
After a few minutes of waiting and listening for signs that they’d caught up with the guy, Adam crossed the street, curious in spite of his terror.
It seemed like forever before a Watcher finally emerged from the empty shop. He was followed by another Watcher, and both were empty-handed. The third and fourth Watchers came out next, dragging the man—bruised and bloodied, and with an electronic leash around his neck.
Adam felt proud enough to wish the Watchers weren’t wearing masks so he could see their admiring eyes.
Adam had taken care of Tommy and Morgan and Daniel like the Chief told him to, and had done a few other things for Keller too—like going on the ride-along with Fogerty and Carson, keeping his eyes and ears open for insidiousness—but this was the first thing that Adam had ever done that actually made a difference.
Something he did helped City Watch catch a bad guy.
Adam kept staring as the Watchers led the apprehended man to the van, then opened the door and threw him inside. The man glared at Adam, eyes full of hate, foaming at the mouth as his new electronic leash sent sparks into his brain.
The man stopped glaring, crying out instead, and for a moment, Adam felt bad.
For a moment.
It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have broken the law.
The Watcher closest to Adam slammed the van door, then said, “Hey, aren’t you Lovecraft’s kid?”
“Yes,” Adam said, not knowing if being Lovecraft’s kid was a good or a ba
d thing with these guys. He heard Keller in his head telling him that City Watch was a brotherhood, and that his father would be loved by his brothers always, even after the horrible thing that he did.
But that was hard for Adam to believe.
The Watcher said, “Great job, kid! Way to keep your eyes open! You’ll be a helluva Watcher someday.”
Adam smiled.
“Thanks,” he said, wanting to stretch the conversation, somehow impress the Watcher further. But the Watcher’s work was waiting, so he nodded at Adam and climbed back into his cruiser, face still buried behind his visor so Adam didn’t even get to see him smile.
Adam observed as more City Watchers showed up, going into the busy marketplace. Finally, one of the Watchers came out and told Adam to get lost.
He walked back to the Academy full of pride, and more excited than ever to be part of City Watch.
CHAPTER 26 — JONAH LOVECRAFT
Jonah didn’t have to look hard for Dr. Liza’s office, though it did require a painful detour through his past to remember the way.
He had loved Molly, even through their most tumultuous time (two years after Adam was born, when every exchange seemed to lead to a new argument). Molly was his best friend, but still, after many years with City Watch, Jonah eventually found himself playing the What If? game like so many of his fellow Watchers.
It was regular for men in City Watch to cheat on their wives, and most Watchers thought nothing of it. Something about the uniforms seemed to drive women behind The Walls wild. And there was something about the job that pushed men into risky behavior—from gambling to drugs to illicit sex. So long as you didn’t get caught, the bosses were fine looking elsewhere.
Jonah wasn’t like the other men, or at least hadn’t thought he was. Yet he’d heard enough to know, and to recognize, the symptoms when they started happening to him.
Jonah’s relationship with Liza, who was consulting for the Watchers and served as one of their medics for a few years before eventually switching her allegiance to The Underground, had been tempting and dangerous. They got along great. She had laughed at the jokes that Molly always seemed too tired to smile at. She was the kind of woman who understood the stresses of Jonah’s job in a way his wife hadn’t seemed to at the time.
Then Liza had started coming on to him. Not overtly, but enough for Jonah to know she was interested. That she would have said yes if he had asked.
She was beautiful, with long strawberry-blonde hair, a scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and small blue eyes that made up for their size by being deep and intoxicating.
Jonah had been flattered and excited—until he finally felt how dangerous she could be to his marriage. He never had acted on a single impulse—and never had planned to—so he had figured it was best to keep his mouth shut and not acknowledge her flirtations. Jonah had made sure to put some distance between them, and found plenty of excuses to speak with her less, until eventually he never saw her around his part of the station.
What Molly hadn’t known couldn’t hurt her; and Jonah had seen no reason to mention his momentary thoughts of another woman. It might have alleviated his guilt to come clean, but would have done nothing for her—it would have been a toxin to their love and would have forever cast doubt on his true feelings for her.
Now that Molly was dead, Jonah wondered how leaden the guilt might feel at his shoulders.
Now that Molly was dead, at his hands no less, he was thankful that he’d never taken things further with Liza. It would’ve served as even more salt in the wounds of Molly’s memory.
***
Jonah entered Dr. Liza’s office, Clinic 17, and found himself in a crowded reception room.
The receptionist’s name was Charlie—who was also an attractive blonde with bright blue eyes and the perfect smile to warm the ill and miserable.
She saw his uniform, and looked puzzled.
Jonah had always liked Charlie, but she looked at him without recognition. He hoped the code word Liza had always used when helping The Underground was still in use—or at least made sense.
“Yes, may I help you?” Charlie said. She had a clipboard in hand, stacked with forms for Jonah to fill out.
“Yes,” Jonah said, leaning in and ignoring the clipboard, disguising his voice with too much throat. “I’m here to see Dr. Liza about my measles.”
She yanked the clipboard back through the window. “What did you say?”
Jonah repeated the phrase, softer rather than louder. “I’m here to see Dr. Liza about my measles.
Charlie said, “Absolutely”—not yes, but absolutely—then asked Jonah to please wait a moment. A half minute later a nurse opened the door to his right and said, “Sir?”
Unlike the receptionist, Jonah didn’t recognize the nurse, a stout older woman who reminded him of a teacher he had as a child. He smiled, got up, and followed the nurse through the door.
Liza entered about five minutes later, trying to seem casual while studying Jonah. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.
She looked at him oddly, definitely not recognizing him. Liza seemed like she knew something was off, but unsure what. She was probably afraid he was a City Watch spy trying to bust her with an Underground code word. She held her eyes to her clipboard, trying to mask her nerves.
For some reason—his own nerves, fear, embarrassment, a quiver of arousal—Jonah wanted to laugh. It swelled inside him before bursting out, untethered, from his mouth.
“Do I know you?” Liza asked, an edge to her voice as she finally looked up. She seemed uncertain, ready to flee or fight or whatever she had to do to protect herself from the laughing stranger in her office, using code words he shouldn’t be using.
Jonah knew Liza would recognize his voice, but hoped she would see the truth in his eyes. He stepped closer and held her stare. She gasped.
“Oh my God,” Liza cried, crashing into Jonah’s parted arms, hard and unguarded. He pulled her tightly to his body. “I’m so happy to see you,” she whispered urgently, “but are you crazy, Jonah? What are you doing here?”
“I need your help.”
“Underground?”
Jonah shook his head. “Something more, Liza. It’s big—The Barrens. I’ve been out there, and there are so many more people than we think. And they’re organized, at least some of them. They want to hit City 1.”
“Oh my,” Liza gasped, hand over mouth. “What can I do? What do they need? Medicine? Stims?” Then before he could answer, “And why aren’t you in City 7?”
“There is no City 7. Never was.”
Liza gasped again, louder.
“It’s worse than you think. There’s so much to tell you. The world is … different.”
“How have you survived if not in a city? Do you live in The Barrens?”
“Yes, like I said, there are a lot of people, small pockets spread out well beyond West Village. And there are tons of wanderers. Lots of Bands—thieves, murderers, and rapists stalking together, taking what they can.” He was somber for a moment. “The State burned West Village to the ground, you know. I don’t think there were any survivors.”
“I heard,” Liza said. “That’s where Duncan was headed the last time I saw him, but he never came back. Now I’m worried. He left The City to find Liam and Ana. He wanted to take them to West Village, but never returned. A month later I heard word it was torched when Drake and Thad didn’t swap.”
Drake and Thad were twins; each lived half his life behind The Walls. If Drake hadn’t come back to swap lives, he was dead.
Liza’s voice brightened, suddenly hopeful. “Have you seen Duncan?”
“No,” Jonah said, “but supposedly I’ll be seeing Ana soon. No word on Liam. Maybe they’re together, or at least maybe she’ll know where Duncan is. You can ask her yourself—she’s riding with an escort to the same place I need you to go.”
“Need me to go?” Her face paled, bright eyes now dull, and mouth dropped open. “Thi
s is bad,” she whispered.
“You mean leaving? Yes … and no. You don’t have to,” Jonah offered, “but I think it’s best if you consider.”
“No, not that. Well, that, but there’s something you don’t know about Duncan too.”
“What?”
Hairs prickled his neck. Shoulder blades tensed. Every muscle felt like it was twitching.
“Duncan is infected.”
“Infected?” Jonah repeated. “You mean he’s a zombie?”
“He’s not a zombie,” she said forcefully. “He’s not fully turned like the others out there, but yes, he carries the virus. I was working on a cure. Haven’t found it yet, but I have found something that keeps the virus from running rampant in his cells, keeps it at bay. Keeps him from turning. But he has to take it every week. I’m guessing he must’ve run out by now, even if he were cutting his dosage in half or quarters. I did give him an ingredients list and directions on how to replicate the serum, if he could find another doctor he could trust to create it. I’m hoping that’s what happened.”
Jonah asked, “Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me?”
“I couldn’t,” Liza said. “Duncan didn’t want anyone to know that he was infected. He said it would’ve changed everything, impeded his ability to effectively manage his role in The Underground, or even his congregation. Besides, Jonah, I’m a doctor, not a scientist. This sort of work is illegal if it’s not State sanctioned. If they discovered what I was doing, they would put a stop to my research and experiments. They’d probably put me in The Games.”
“You’d think The State would be happy that someone was making progress.”
Liza snorted. “I used to think that when I started. But from all I’ve seen, and from what I’ve heard from others, they don’t want progress. It’s almost as if they don’t want a cure.”
He couldn’t be sure, but what she said—after all he’d witnessed in the last year—felt right. It was a scary thought. So was his next one.
“So you think Duncan’s a zombie?”
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