Again, I nod, trying my best not to freak out that he’s going to give me the broadcast.
“Good. But I’m not finished. In exchange for those five minutes, you agree to stay away from my daughter, as well as my entire family. I won’t have her pulled further into this. Especially if I am already faced with losing my son.”
Bianca can make her own decisions. I open my mouth to protest.
Mr. Pond raises a threatening finger toward me. “No negotiating. You will leave her out from this point forward.”
There’s no way Bianca will agree to this.
However, if it’s her choice, then I’m technically not breaking the agreement. Think big. I need to do this, and I’m certain this is what Doc implied when he told me to think big.
“Deal.” I hold my hand out to shake.
His grip is firm and unrelenting.
“Good.” He pulls out a business card and scribbles on the back of it, then hands it to me. “Meet me at that address in one hour. Not a minute sooner.”
I flip the card between my fingers and read the address. It’s at the edge of downtown, not an easy place to reach when the entire DMA force is searching for me. All I can do is hope that the battle in Pax has drawn most of the forces away.
“Go.” The single word is not a request.
“Can I at least say goodbye to Bianca?”
“No. She might follow.”
Well, he probably has that part right.
Mr. Pond walks to the back door and opens it. I glance toward the living room as I prepare to leave, but Bianca isn’t in my line of sight.
With a sigh, I step outside and he closes the door in my face.
37
Getting to the east side of downtown proves easier than I imagined. With my hood drawn up, I take the metro. Only a handful of other travelers occupy the metro car, but no one sits anywhere around me. The whole way, I keep my head down and avoid eye contact with anyone else. It’s late. Most people are already home.
When I reach the address, I’m a few minutes early. It’s nearly 11:00 P.M., so I keep my promise and hide in the shadows of the alley across the street. It’s a narrow space between two tri-story brick buildings.
The location isn’t what I expected. I figured Mr. Pond would send me to one of the satellite stations for the network. Maybe that was too obvious for the DMA.
Instead, I find myself watching the activity around a small health clinic. An Elpis News Network van pulls up in front of the clinic, and a team of four people unload the camera and broadcast equipment into the building. Mr. Pond steps out of the van, scanning the street.
I shrink back into the shadows. His instructions were clear. I don’t intend to piss him off before I get a chance to talk.
Not that I have any idea what to say. The reality of what I’m about to do sinks in my gut and my shoulders curl downward. I’ve never been good at public speaking. In high school, I often stumbled over my words, conscious of how my classmates were mocking me. What I am about to do is a whole new level of pressure. I’m not just reporting on something for school. Somehow, I have to convince the entire city that it’s time to stand together against the Directorate. My fingers go cold.
Come on, Ugene. You got this. There’s no other choice. If only I had more time to really think this through and create an irrefutable argument.
Once they finish unloading, the van drives away, disappearing around the corner at the end of the block.
I check for anyone watching from windows or vehicles coming up the street. It’s quiet, so I slip across.
Mr. Pond holds the door open for me, then locks it behind us.
A surge of fear pulses through me.
His crew could be anyone. They could be undercover DMA agents. And now I’m locked in with them. If they are DMA, I would already be under arrest.
Mr. Pond leads me toward the back of the clinic to an office with blank eggshell walls that could be anywhere in the city.
The crew sets up the equipment across from a desk. A young woman only a few years older than me has a laptop open in her lap, clicking through something I can’t see. Another guy hooks up the cables and checks connections for the camera while his coworker connects the pole to the boom mic.
Mr. Pond steps in front of me like a wall between myself and his team. “Do you know what you’ve given us? Do you know what is on those drives?”
“One of them.”
He shakes his head, and I notice fear in his eyes. True, unfiltered fear. I’ve never seen Mr. Pond nervous before. He’s always so confident.
“We read the DMA plan on the way over, and saw the videos…” He shivers. “They’re horrible.”
I know exactly how he feels. Is that what I looked like when I first saw them—sick with terror?
His upper lip stiffens. “The vaccine they're giving the regressing population, this IVD Veritax, it’s a sham. The damn thing only has an eight percent success rate.”
Eight? “And the other ninety-two…”
He doesn’t need to answer. I already know. I’ve seen what happens. The image of Vicki’s body convulsing on that lab table stokes the flames of my anger.
“Ready,” laptop girl says.
Mr. Pond waves me toward the desk chair.
Anxiety knots in my stomach.
My body quivers as I step around the desk and ease into the chair, hoping no one else notices my fear. My heart is racing so fast I have to remind myself to breathe. My sweaty palms grease the arms of the chair and I ease myself down.
“Is it loaded?” Mr. Pond asks laptop girl.
She nods.
“Connection?” he asks the fourth team member.
“Citywide on your mark, Mr. Pond.”
He nods, then turns his attention to me, crossing his arms. “Five minutes.”
I nod stiffly, hoping no one can see how badly I’m shaking. What am I supposed to say? My friends follow me because they believe in me—that’s what Noah said right before Jimmy murdered him. Somehow, I have to make the rest of the city feel the same. Doc seemed to think I was capable. So did Mom.
A holoclock appears in glowing blue light above Mr. Pond’s watch, with 5:00 frozen in time.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. How do I convince an entire city to revolt against the government?
“Now,” Mr. Pond says.
I open my eyes to see the cable guy counting down from five with his fingers, then the red light on the camera comes on and the clock begins counting down.
My stomach twists in knots.
Now or never.
“Hi. Um, for anyone who doesn’t know, my name is Ugene Powers.” The announcement makes the cameraman cast an anxious glance at Mr. Pond, though I’m certain he must recognize me if he works for the network. Jayme said my face has been all over the news lately.
I focus on each word, on keeping my voice steady. If they hear it quiver, they will know how scared I am, and they may not listen further. I need to fake confidence as best I can to convince them that every word is sincere.
“The Directorate has said a lot about the Protectorate radicals, and about me. That I am a tyrant, a liar, an extremist determined to destroy this city. But I’m here to tell you the truth. The Directorate has lied to you.”
I rest my forearms on the edge of the desk and clasp my hands together, palms slick with sweat. Can they see me shaking?
The clock ticks the seconds away.
“I grew up in Salas as the Powerless son of General Powers. I trusted the Directorate just like you, believing in the goodwill of Paragon just like you. I entered a top-secret biological experiment at Paragon that was supposed to help me gain Powers. Instead, I watched them kill several of my friends—and my father—in the name of science. The rest of us barely escaped with our lives.”
The revelation about Dad—and that I have no Power—sends a ripple of shocked expressions through the handful of people gathered in the small office. I can only hope it
has the same effect on those at home.
Mr. Pond doesn’t flinch, though I can see a hint of alarm when I mention my dad’s death. Paragon and the Directorate probably covered it up.
And they will cover up more deaths if we don’t stop them.
“The Protectorate took in my friends and me, gave us shelter, and showed us the truth. We don’t need powers to survive. We need cooperation and intelligence. The Protectorate doesn’t just believe this. They live by it, outside the limits of this city. The Directorate and Paragon have fed you the fear of regression, toting their propaganda that we can’t survive without Powers. But we can.”
I pause, giving that statement a moment to settle in before moving on. My gaze fixes on the clock.
3:19 remains.
“The Directorate is using your fear to pass laws that allow them to force the weak into lines a block long to wait for Paragon’s newest cure, knowing full-well that ninety-two percent of those injected will perish. The choice isn’t really a choice. Join the DMA or die.”
Laptop girl’s jaw is set, angry. She has seen what I uncovered on those drives, and her irritation is written all over her face. I need everyone to be outraged, so I push on.
“Today, I saw a man no younger than sixty tackled to the pavement before being hauled into a DMA shuttle. A girl, no more than five, cried for her daddy as the DMA dragged him off for injection. A man roughly my age attempted escaping a DMA tent only to be shot in the street as his girlfriend begged for his release.”
To my own surprise, laptop girl strikes a key, and a video begins playing, presumably feeding through the entire network. Footage of DMA attacks on citizens, of the lines into the tents, of a child crying for mommy. I have no idea where Mr. Pond found these videos, but the emotional charge in each gives credence to my words.
“None of these people did anything wrong. Their only crime was obeying the law and fighting for their lives. The Directorate wants you to believe that being Powerless means weakness, when the truth is, being afraid of losing our Power is what makes us weak.”
Sell it.
I lean toward the camera, putting more weight on the edge of the desk while attempting to push the urgency of the situation. My gaze flicks to the clock again.
2:03.
“But we are not weak. I call on all of you to take a stand with us, to show the Directorate and Paragon that our Powers can be combined into a source of strength. This is how we survive. United.”
The boom guy’s hands tighten on the mic. The cameraman’s nostrils flare. Even Mr. Pond raises his chin and gives a small nod.
“This battle will not be won with a few of the strong holding against the tide of tyranny, but with fists raised in unity to build an indestructible wall against the tide, forcing it away from our shores. Let’s stand together and show the Directorate that all lives matter. That we will not back down. We will not hide.”
The cameraman nods in agreement.
My nerves begin dissolving in the wake of pure determination. I need the people to feel as strongly as I do, and the words tumble from my lips with newfound conviction as I fix my resolute gaze on the camera.
“To those of you who believe this fight is not yours, I ask you this: Have any of your loved ones gone missing or mysteriously died? I’m not asking you to believe my words as truth. I’m asking you to believe your eyes and see what’s right in front of you.”
Tears shimmer at the edges of laptop girl’s eyes, her hands clenched into fists on the arms of her chair.
0:31.
I press on, “No matter what you choose to do, I will continue forward with confidence that my path will lead to liberation for everyone. Tomorrow, we fight for that right outside the Administration Building. I vow never to stop until Elpis achieves freedom. I fight for equality. I fight for balance. And I hope I survive to see it become a reality. But if I don’t see another sunset in exchange for that freedom, I welcome my fate. For you.”
With that, the time on the countdown clock expires.
The office is frozen, utterly motionless. The camera light turns off as the live feed cuts out. The crew remains statue-still as I take a moment to collect myself, then push away from the desk and head for the door. Even Mr. Pond only manages to stare as I open the office door.
“Start my call to action,” Mr. Pond says as I step into the hallway. “And loop it through the van.”
Though I’m curious about what his call to action is, I leave them behind.
My five minutes are up.
38
Midnight approaches, and I need to reach Lettuce Eat, where my friends—and Enid—should be waiting. With each step I take toward the mouth of the alley, the reality of this entire situation presses down on me harder. I just called on the entire city to start a revolution. But what if no one shows up? What if I end up standing alone at sunrise?
Stop focusing on the what-ifs.
The city is terribly quiet. No soft hum of engines or stray people headed home for the night. My heart is racing as I reach the end of the alley and peer out around the corner. I need to get to Harvey’s place, but it feels so far away. And now everyone knows my face for certain if they didn’t before. There’s no way I can make it there unnoticed.
I step out of the alley and head east. The hairs on my neck and arms rise. I pull my jacket tighter around me, keeping my head down and hood up.
A rustle from one of the apartment buildings makes me jump, and I spin around to see a woman about Mom’s age peering out the window at me. Our eyes meet, and for a moment I’m frozen in place.
She brushes a hand over her cheeks, wiping away tears. Then something even stranger happens.
She holds her fist aloft in a sign of solidarity.
Without thinking, I return the woman’s gesture.
She pulls closed the sash over her window and I continue down the street. What just happened?
I stick to the shadows as much as I can, and my thoughts continue drifting to Enid, Bianca, and the rest of my friends. Did they see the broadcast? Are they safe?
Within just a few blocks it becomes apparent I’m terribly exposed. That woman is only the first of more than a dozen to catch my attention and raise their fist in solidarity. For weeks, I’ve been hiding in the shadows, afraid of Paragon or the Directorate finding me. After that speech, I finally understand my place.
The people need to see me. Maybe I should be noticed.
Now that the truth has come out, the Directorate and Paragon can’t come at me directly without making my case for me. And with all these people watching the streets, a sense of confidence, of peace, settles over me. I lower the hood and pull my hands from my pockets. Let them see me. Let everyone see me.
Even if the Directorate arrests me right now, I am convinced that I am exactly where I need to be.
A man who hides behind The Shield is safe. A man who raises The Shield is the Hero. Celeste told me that people are defined by how they rise and inspire. Did she know, even then, that this would be my path?
With confident strides, I move along the sidewalks toward Lettuce Eat. The blinds are closed in most of the homes, but nearly every building I pass has someone in the window watching me walk the street at midnight. Each of them raises a fist and I acknowledge them with a nod of appreciation.
For several blocks, the hum of a vehicle’s engine follows at a distance. The Directorate or Paragon, most likely. If they arrest me with people watching from their windows, they are only adding fuel to my fire.
After about a mile walking out in the open, under the streetlights, an unmarked vehicle cuts me off, narrowly missing me as I cross the street. I jump back and try to see inside, but the windows are darkened.
That can’t be good. Paragon had vehicles like this one.
Glancing upward, I see several people watching from apartment windows. One girl holds up her phone, recording the events. Steeling my resolve, I hold firm on the sidewalk as the rear window rolls down.
Reach
ing Lettuce Eat was never going to be my final stop. Enid didn’t know it, but somewhere deep down, I did.
To cut off the head of the gorgon, I have to enter the gorgon’s den.
A muffled shot emits from the window. Warmth spreads through my shoulder and out into the rest of my body. I stumble, then fall to the pavement. Growing darkness swallows the streetlights as I’m lifted off the ground.
Part Three
“The city of Elpis has reached a crossroads. While Paragon and the Directorate work together to build a better, stronger future for all, radical leader, Ugene Powers, in his jealousy, would oppose us, hijacking our network to spread his message of hate. He attacked your city and filled your heads with lies. He planted the seeds of doubt—a doubt which could destroy what remains of humanity. A doubt which could destroy everything we have built and everything we continue to work for. My fellow survivors, I implore you. Do not let him win.”
~ Directorate Chief Seaduss
Live
39
Brilliant green eyes shine from sunken, sleep-deprived sockets, peering at me with curious innocence. Celeste.
I spring upright to find myself in a Paragon dorm room. Everything smells lemony clean, like home. Dozens of lights on the building across the street give the otherwise dark dorm room an eerie glow. A bookcase is stuffed into the corner, but only one book rests on the shelf. The Fabric of the Cosmos.
Celeste sits back on her heels, head cocked to the side like a curious bird. She doesn’t say anything.
I rise, my head spinning. This is a dream. It must be a dream.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Celeste motions toward the window.
Suddenly, all the lights in the city go out, and the sky becomes a swirling mass of stunning shades of blue and purple and black. The motion of color propelling around the stars is hypnotizing. It’s the same sky she showed me in her room the night we met.
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