Infected? Is that really how Seaduss sees people with regression, as victims of some sort of disease?
“But you’ve put them in positions where they had nowhere else to turn,” I say. “Poverty forced their hand. They had to steal to eat. And when they continued to fail, they turned to anger. It’s easy to lose control and make poor decisions when you have no hope.”
“You are right, but only partly, because your judgment is skewed by youth.” Seaduss strides around the table, pulling out a chair across from me and sinking down into it. The chair squeals as he settles in. “It is easy to lose control when you have no hope, which is why I’ve chosen this path.”
I frown. He can’t really believe that what he’s doing gives them hope? He’s allowing regressed citizens to be stripped of their Power, or forcing them into service—and who knows what happens once he gets his hands on them. My thoughts wander to Bianca.
“You see, with Paragon’s help, we strip them of that hopelessness and give them a new purpose.” Seaduss folds his hands together over the tabletop. “Now, those same people who were the worst offenders are given a chance at redemption. A team of DMA and Paragon employees take each of the regressing citizens and tests them to see if they are fit for service.”
“By injecting them with a brainwashing serum,” I say, then hold my breath and watch his reaction. I can’t be sure I’m right, but the evidence is there.
Seaduss grimaces. “That’s a poor choice of words.”
“But it only has a narrow margin of success,” I say, sitting up straighter. “So what happens to the unsuccessful tests?”
Seaduss’s glare is so utterly cold that it freezes me. He isn’t answering, but he doesn’t need to.
“You kill them.” My voice cracks. “How many have you killed already?”
“Such sympathy,” Seaduss says, shaking his head. “Those failures would have turned to further crime, and who knows how many lives we have saved by taking theirs. Order must be restored.”
That’s what Bianca said, back at the safehouse. Order must be restored. But this isn’t order.
The fact that he won’t give me a number tells me that it’s more than he can count. Or maybe that he doesn’t care enough to count. Either way, I find it extremely disturbing. “So, you kill them to protect countless others. How does that not make you more of a danger?”
“Any great leader throughout history has learned that to restore order, some sacrifices must be made.” He waves a dismissive hand. His words are dangerously close to what both Noah and Willow have said. “In another ten years, when regression is a memory and crime is nearly obsolete, people will forget how we came to that point. They will only be happy we arrived.”
I crinkle my nose in disgust. “You think you’re a hero. So, is this what the Purification Project is? Brainwashing regression away and creating a so-called perfect society?”
Seaduss blinks, probably wondering how I learned about the project. “You certainly have been busy, and again, you use a gross oversimplification. We can’t brainwash regression away. Instead, with Paragon’s help, we will create a pure line of children in the future, children who won’t have to worry about losing their Powers, or not having one at all. I would think that you, of all people, would be thrilled at that prospect.”
I’ve grown quite tired of people believing I would do anything to be ordinary. There was a time I might have made poor choices, but a line exists, and this clearly crosses it.
Back in Pax, I assumed the dots all connected to one conclusion, absolute control. I assumed the Directorate wanted to force out everyone with weaker Powers to make more space for those with stronger Powers—which they are doing by forcing people into service or death. But if expansion into the Deadlands isn’t the problem, as the very existence of The Shield has proven, then control isn’t the only answer. Seaduss is talking about pure bloodlines. Selective eugenics.
A true Purification Project.
But something else still doesn’t make sense.
“I’ve read the reports about radioactivity in the Deadlands,” I say. “And something changed three years ago. The calculations shifted dramatically and the projection for how long it would be to live safely without Powers swayed in our favor. We don’t need Powers to survive anymore. So why would you try to purify our bloodlines if it doesn’t matter?”
Seaduss laughs. “You aren’t listening, Ugene.” The speed with which he approaches forces me back reflexively into my chair. After turning off the machine and removing the needle from my arm, Seaduss pulls out a switchblade and cuts the tie holding my wrists to the table, then drags me to my feet. “Come see for yourself.”
The room tilts from the sudden motion. I’ve lost too much blood. Maybe only ten minutes or so connected to the machine, and possibly only a single pint of donation, but still enough. The drug Forrest injected has mostly worn off, with the exception of a strange mixture of cold pain and numbness in my foot.
Seaduss pulls me into a wide hallway, and I glance around, leaning against him for support. The walls are covered in eggshell paint with matching half pillars pressed against them. Black marble tiles flecked with gold cover the floor. It only takes a moment before I recognize this place.
I’m in the Administration Building.
42
Seaduss calls an elevator and we ride up to the top floor. His grip on my arm will likely leave a bruise, but there’s no way I can shake him free and I highly doubt he will let go. The doors slide open, and we are met with a flurry of activity. More than a dozen administrative aides flit from one office to the next. DMA officers mill around a command room as we pass, nodding respectfully at Seaduss or scowling at me.
Those with eyes on me stiffen or jump a few steps back like I have a contagious disease. Do they think I’m infectious? Jaws slacken and most people stop mid-stride.
My notoriety is known even here, it appears.
The hush inside the building allows the noise outside to filter through. A mass of voices rising in chaotic protests. Seaduss hauls me toward the sound, through massive wooden doors into his office, a notably large space. On one side of the room, plush black chairs with wooden legs face each other with a coffee table between. On the other, a wide, tall fireplace is surrounded by a sofa and chairs, much like a living room in some mansion.
Several other Directorate members are in the room, speaking hurried instructions to their aides, who move around sharing information. Forrest nods as one of the Directors speaks to him, his angry gaze falling on me. The Directorate is in full-swing deterrence.
“Out!” Seaduss barks the command over all other voices, and everyone scrambles to obey. “Pond!”
Forrest halts in the doorway. His shoulders immediately tighten. Seaduss scares everyone, but he’s just a man. What could he possibly be capable of that would make them all jump like this?
“Here!”
Forrest takes a step backward before turning and approaching, his chin tucked against his chest.
Seaduss shoves me onto a sofa. “I want to know what’s happening at Paragon,” Seaduss says.
While the two are engaged in conversation, I concentrate on tightening the zip-tie cuffs until they bite into my wrists. If I want to break them, I need them to be much tighter.
Forrest nods, clutching his tablet tight against his chest. “Last I heard, a group of radicals infiltrated the building on the lower levels, but I haven’t heard anything back from Dr. Cass yet.”
Seaduss grinds his jaw. “Get her on the phone now. You don’t go anywhere until you have something useful to report.” He stabs a finger at the sofa beside me.
Forrest shoots a look of disgust at me, but he doesn’t argue with his superior and sinks down, making sure to leave plenty of space between us. As much as all present company disgusts me, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction rising in my chest at the way Seaduss makes Forrest cower. At least he knows what it feels like.
“Boy, come.” Seaduss star
ts toward the French doors on the far side of the room beside his desk, stopping once he realizes I’m not following. “Now.”
I sigh, casually slipping off the sofa. While my insides may be churning in a mass of sickening nerves, I refuse to give either of these two the satisfaction of knowing just how much they scare me.
The second Seaduss opens the doors, the noise from the street turns from a muffled din to a roar. I edge toward the sandstone balustrade, placing my sweating palms against the cool stone and leaning forward to get a better look at the chaos below.
Hundreds of people fill the square outside the Administration Building, spilling into the street and around corners. While I can’t make out what anyone is saying—it’s all just a roar of noise—the overall protest is clearly directed at those in this building. At the Directorate itself.
Blockading the Administration Building, DMA troopers make perfect lines, three rows deep, surrounding the building on all sides, but the crowd has pushed them back from the square. Over the cacophony of voices, one announcement loops repeatedly.
“Citizens, for your own safety, please return to your homes or we will be forced to take further action.”
But no one cares. They press on, hundreds—thousands—of bodies shout in protest. The first row of troopers hold blast shields up to protect against occasional projectiles thrown from the crowd—bricks seem like a popular choice, along with other objects. The second row points guns at the crowd, but no one fires. The final row holds, but occasionally the crowd is thrust back by a gust of air. The protests are about as peaceful as they can be so far. All it will take is a spark to ignite them.
“This is what happens when people believe they can use their Powers however they choose,” Seaduss says, folding his hands into his pockets as he steps up beside me. “Perhaps you are right, and we are removing some of their freedoms, but the end result is worthwhile. Prosperity. Security. To affect significant change, you have to be willing to take significant chances.”
I shake my head. “Your security is false. When you lose freedom, what do you have left? That is what we fight for. Our freedom. It saddens me that you don’t recognize that.”
Seaduss stares blankly at me. He doesn’t understand. He genuinely believes what he is doing is the only way. He’s deluded.
“Why are you willing to risk your future for this cause, Ugene?” Seaduss looks out at the crowd. “You know how this will end for you.”
I do know. Doc made it clear to me when we spoke in his office. My future doesn’t exist in Seaduss’s vision. I wasn’t sure if Doc was right at the time, but now I know for certain. When I lowered my hood in the streets last night, I knew either he or Dr. Cass would come after me and I was happy to let them think they won. Because that would bring me here. Exactly where I need to be.
I gather myself up proudly, edging closer to the balustrade while turning to face Seaduss. “Even when light breaks through the darkness, darkness fights back,” I say, quoting Celeste.
People among the crowd point up at the balcony where we stand. The roar of the crowd slowly shifts. Fists raise in solidarity toward us. I’m exactly where I need to be. Exactly where I wanted Seaduss to bring me. The chaotic noise transforms into a thunderous chant.
Unity! Unity! Unity!
The words bring goosebumps to my skin, and I square my shoulders. “If Powers are so important, if we can’t make this city a base for equality, then what is my future anyway?” I raise a closed fist toward the crowd with my wrists still tightly bound together.
Seaduss yanks my arm down, which only enrages the crowd.
“I am neither the problem nor the cure,” I say, emboldened by the mob. “I am simply the voice of the people, the face of their fight. And we’ve reached a tipping point. There’s no going back. You brought me here, where they can see me. Things will only escalate from here, Director. And there is only one way this ends, whether I live to see it or not.”
A vein in Seaduss’s neck pulses as he clenches his jaw. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tense and flex. I can’t be sure just how strong he is, but I have no doubt he could crush me with a single blow. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s considering it.
I grin, stepping closer as all the tension that’s bound my muscles up tight melts away. My breathing evens out, more relaxed. Seaduss has played right into my hand.
He can’t harm me here, in front of this crowd. Not now that they see me. Not now that their voices are raised in unity against him. Doing anything to me will seal his fate. He knows it. His gaze darts out over the crowd as red flushes his neck and face.
“It’s over, Director.”
His nostrils flare and he bares his teeth as he returns his rage-filled eyes to me. “You’ve forced my hand. Do it.”
I cock my head to the side. Who is he talking to?
A crack thunders in the courtyard below. I rush forward and lean over the balustrade, watching in dread as the ground opens, revealing a deep, dark chasm beneath the mob. Screams break up the chanting. Dozens of people are swallowed into a pit of darkness. The ground closes back around them. I blanch, recoiling and turning my back to the horrific display of Powers.
Just like that, all those people are buried alive. My stomach rolls.
“End this and spare them,” Seaduss says with dangerous confidence that borders on insanity.
“I can’t. It’s out of my hands now.”
Something so powerful can’t be done by one person. It would take a team. Swallowing down the disgust churning my gut, I force myself to face the ghastly scene. My quivering hands grip the balustrade in fear as the third line of DMA troopers raises their hands in unison.
But the people fight back. In seconds, everything has turned to pure chaos. Fireballs fly in both directions. Tear gas is tossed into the crowd, only to be volleyed back by a vacuous tornado of wind. Power-fueled attacks lob back and forth, rending gaps in the concrete, burning people alive on both sides of the line. DMA troopers fire their guns at the crowd, and dozens of people along the front lines fall to the ground, replaced by others. And then the seizures start, rendering the victims helpless, stripping them of their Powers—and possibly, killing them. The protest descends into battle. I couldn’t end this if I wanted to.
All those people are in that courtyard because of me. Because of my broadcast. All those deaths are on my hands.
No, not my hands. This is all him. I turn on Seaduss. I dive at his waist, hoping to throw him off balance.
And at that moment, the whole building quakes.
43
Both Seaduss and I roll across the balcony. My head strikes the sandstone floor, and a white-hot pain shoots through my head. It takes a moment to remember where I am.
Seaduss rolls to his side, easily getting back to his feet. Before he can attack, I raise my hands over my head, pulling the zip-cuffs tight so they bite into my wrists, tensing my muscles with all the strength I can summon. With one mighty yank down, I jerk my wrists outward as I strike them against my knee. The ties snap, freeing my hands.
A breathless laugh escapes me, and I jump to my feet, running toward the office. Seaduss’s massive hand clamps down on the collar of my shirt and hauls me backward off my feet, tossing me like a bean bag.
Seaduss stalks toward me, a sinister smile on his face.
“The tower!” Forrest yells, running out onto the balcony with us as I hit the balustrade.
Seaduss freezes at Forrest’s shout, staring at the skyline.
Rubbing the aching pain in my shoulders, I twist around and peer through the stone balustrade.
Plumes of smoke and dust boil upward in a massive cloud around Paragon Tower, obscuring all but the top third from sight. The cloud moves outward through the buildings, rolling along the streets of downtown Elpis like a sandstorm, consuming everything in its path and shrouding all from sight.
People in the streets scramble toward shelter, forgetting the battle. The DMA troops also break formation and rush bac
k into the building with citizens on their heels. No one cares who is fighting whom. They all just want to survive the blast.
The three of us on the Administration Building balcony also forget one another as the horrific scene unfolds. I leverage my body against the balustrade for support and rise as an intense, high-pitched whistle screams overhead. Then the tower begins to crumble, and the cloud of dust picks up speed. All the screams from the crowd below are swallowed up by the thunderous noise of the collapsing tower. But only one thought consumes me.
The test subjects still in the Tower…
Thinking of those poor people trapped in the collapsing building turns my entire body cold.
But the cloud of dust continues its journey ever closer.
I sprint for the door on the heels of Seaduss and Forrest. The sound of shattering glass convinces me to dive behind a nearby desk, the solid wood backing to shield me from shattered glass and other debris blasting inward. I tuck my head between my legs and cover my face with the front of my shirt to block out the swirling dust.
Then the world plunges into darkness. The only sound is that of the receding whistle and barrage of debris.
My chest heaves as light finally returns. I raise my head to find the once rich, pristine office now covered in layers of dust, debris, and broken glass.
Forrest claws out from behind a sofa, his dark hair coated in dust. He coughs, but sucks in too much air and ends up swallowing more dust from the air.
I keep my shirt over my mouth, fighting the same urge to cough. My feet are unsteady as I try to pull myself up, and my knees buckle, forcing me to throw my weight against the desk to avoid falling.
In the middle of the room, Seaduss lies on the floor, a coffee table toppled over on him.
I stumble in his direction.
A shard of broken table pierces his gut, pinning him to the floor. He kicks his legs out, holding the wooden spike. A distant look has already turned his wide, shocked eyes toward the ceiling.
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