by Zach Hines
“You just cross wire A with wire B,” he said as he cranked the engine on. “And voilà.”
Robbie gunned the car and they sped out onto the road with a sharp squeal. Robbie was hunched over the steering wheel, his movements animated with a jittery but reassuring sense of control.
Another blinding flash of light filled the sky behind them, and then a millisecond later, the booming sound of an explosion cracked so loud it rattled the car. Julian cupped his hands over his ears and ducked down. Molly was crouched beside him, covering her ears, too. He looked at her, and she looked at him. They both seemed to be saying the same thing with their eyes: This was happening. This was real.
Robbie, up front, didn’t look back.
He just gunned the car, the engine growling, and they disappeared into the night.
Chapter 38
CONSTANCE, BITING DOWN ON HER LIP IN THAT POUTY WAY of hers, was tying a cute little bow.
The bow was on a rope cinched around Amit’s gut.
He was tied up nice and tight now, the All-State Football Champions trophy strapped to his chest. The big brass cup was about three feet tall and must’ve weighed 120 pounds. The team carried it off the football field together last year after winning States. It was a group effort, so Franklin didn’t get a sense then of how truly heavy it was. But lugging it around today, Franklin came to understand that yes, sometimes you had to measure your prestige in weight. And damn if this thing wasn’t a lot of prestige.
Amit’s eyes were squeezed shut, little twitches jumping at the edges. But at least they were closed. They’d been shot through with blood this morning. He’d clearly been up all night worrying about this. Amit absolutely didn’t want to do another burn, and his eyes had started tearing up that morning, and then he started begging, literally begging, there in the orchestra room. . . .
Franklin coughed to clear his throat.
He thought again about football. He had that championship on his résumé. His All-State recommendation, too. Even better, he also had summa cum laude right up there on the top—a little laurel leaf next to his name: Franklin Overton, summa cum laude, laurel leaf.
Now he could add another distinction. A little Gold Star in the extracurriculars. Of course, the Burners weren’t an official club, but that’s what the star was for. It’s a dog whistle. Any Burner alumnus out there reading his curriculum vitae would recognize it instantly. The Gold Star. Leader of the Burners. Pleased to meet you, young man. Very pleased.
All that, plus Georgie Vander’s recommendation.
Welcome to Azura University.
The most prestigious university in America.
Franklin’s grandfather burned his lives in the shipyards back in Boston, making enough to start a construction business that turned into a mini-empire. That empire was passed on to his son, Franklin’s father. Franklin’s father used that to get him into the academy.
His father played the game, and his grandfather played the game.
Looking at Amit, his eyes squeezed tight, the edges of them trembling, Franklin suddenly recalled the moment when he wheeled his elderly grandfather into the ex clinic to take his Eight. Right on schedule, as always.
But there was something off with the old man that day—he didn’t speak, he just kept his eyes glued shut, like Amit’s, squeezed tight as if trying desperately to keep something locked into his head. Franklin remembered watching his grandfather wheeled away down the hall. And then, when the old man came back on his Nine, he was changed: bored, uninterested, exhausted. He seemed to not even recognize who Franklin was. Whatever his grandfather was trying to hold in that day had clearly been robbed from him then in that ex clinic. . . .
But that’s the game.
And now it was Franklin’s turn. The path from here was clear—do your homework, study hard, and go after the opportunities in front of you.
You may not like the game, but you had to play it. Sort of like football. Learn the rules, and win.
Poor Amit here, though . . .
Tears leaked out of the edges of his eyes. He was mouthing something too, mumbling indistinctly.
Constance cinched the last few ropes up tight against him and took out her phone. There was a damn cold wind up here.
Constance started filming. She had a knack for filming burns. She had a great sense of composition. She was also adept at finding a way to include herself in most videos.
She filmed a panorama of the bridge they were standing on, then craned the camera over the edge—it was a thirty-foot drop into ice-cold water.
She then squeezed in close to Amit, holding the camera in front of them as if taking a selfie.
“Let us hear it,” she said. “Banzai?”
She’s cute, but she’s stone cold, Franklin thought. He wondered if they might still be hanging out together next year, at Azura.
She winked to the camera and then flipped it over to film Amit directly. She looked over to Franklin and gave him a nod. Franklin snaked his foot in under the frame, so it wouldn’t be caught on the video, and gave Amit one solid nudge with his toe.
Amit tumbled over the edge, emitting a pathetic, muffled yelp.
Constance rushed to the ledge to film his descent. There was just a ripple in the water down below now, and a stream of gurgling bubbles that soon enough stopped.
Did it worry Franklin that students were dying faster, and more often, now that he was in charge of the Burners? Did it bother him that in many cases, he was the one directing the killing?
No. The world was full of dying.
Murder was punishable by two lives or two years in the Pit. But Franklin had that letter exempting him from any prosecution. Indeed, it was something else that troubled him about this—something more than the unlikely prospect of a two-or-two . . .
It was those missing kids, Molly and Anastasia. What had happened to them? And Clayton had recently stopped coming to school too. Where were they all? The question scratched at him, a burning under his skin.
But . . .
You play the game.
You may not like the game, but you have to play the game.
After school, they were called to Denton’s office. Denton was there with Georgie, dressed up in his full Prelate outfit, except his mask was off. The goggles were resting around his neck, but he might as well have been wearing them—his eyes were like two hard orbs of obsidian. Second time this week he had met with them.
Georgie gave them no greeting—he just asked them for an update on the life score.
“We’re at thirty-four total for the year,” Constance said.
“Thirty-five,” Franklin corrected. “After this afternoon.”
Denton grinned, pleased with the progress.
But Georgie was not moved.
“With Amit Sandoval this afternoon,” Franklin said. “We’ve also hit almost everyone on your list, Mr. Vander.”
“What about this Julian Dex?” Georgie asked.
Julian.
Franklin sighed.
He was going to be a problem.
“Not yet,” Franklin responded. “But we can—”
Georgie raised his hand, silencing Franklin.
“Actually,” he said. “That’s fine. I need something else from you, regarding Mr. Dex.”
Franklin cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.
You gotta play by the rules, even though you don’t get to make them.
But someone gets to make them.
And someday, we might all become someone.
Chapter 39
ROBBIE PULLED THE CAR UP TO A STOP UNDER AN ELM OUTSIDE Cat’s Cradle.
Glen and Cody stood on the porch, worry bordering on panic written on their faces.
As the car rattled to silence, Robbie sat, his left eye twitching as he stared up at the house, lit in the headlights.
Julian hopped out of the car and ran up to the porch. “It’s me!”
“Julian?” Glen asked. “What are you doing in a Lake car?”
&
nbsp; But Cody barely acknowledged his presence. Her eyes were locked on Robbie, who was climbing out from the car. Cody’s eyes were boring into Robbie, who moved swiftly toward the porch. Glen tried to step in front of him, but Robbie pushed him aside and charged for Cody. He grabbed her and threw her up against the door.
“I’m home!” he shouted. He was up in her face. “You told me to keep away, but here I am!”
Glen wrapped his arm around Robbie’s neck and Julian grabbed him by the waist, trying to pry him off Cody. Robbie strained against them, his eyes bulging and his face reddening under Glen’s thick arm.
“You need to calm down!” Cody shouted. “There are kids in here!”
Robbie gurgled a spittle-laced hiss from under Glen’s choke hold. Glen and Julian managed to wrestle him to the ground, then Glen sat on his stomach.
“Trust me, no one wants this,” Glen said as Robbie moaned.
Now Cody grabbed Julian and pushed him toward the front steps.
“What the hell are you doing bringing him here?!”
She looked over to Molly, who was now on the porch, struggling to pull Glen off Robbie, while he swatted her away. “And who is that?” Cody demanded.
“Everyone stop!” Julian shouted.
Julian pulled Molly back and helped Glen hoist up Robbie and push him over to one side of the porch. Like a referee at an out-of-control football game, Julian shouted for Glen and Cody to stay on one side and Molly and Robbie on the other. Once everyone was calm and in separate corners of the porch, Julian explained what had brought them there: his father’s likely retrogression or, more likely than that, his permadeath, the group home, Molly and Robbie on the Row, his brother being taken, the explosion, the stolen car . . .
Glen became distraught. “They were taking kids from the group home. . . . I knew it. . . . I knew it. . . .” He kept shaking his head darkly. “Cody, did they see you at Callum’s? Are they coming for us next?”
Cody stopped Glen’s questioning with a hand and turned to Julian. “Were you followed?”
“No,” Julian said. “I made sure we took the back roads. But the Prelate of the Lake recognized me. He knew we were at Callum’s.”
“Even worse than being followed by the nurses, I’m here now,” Robbie said from the other side of the porch, rubbing his neck.
Cody turned to him. “You were violent. You are violent. That’s why you got kicked out.”
Robbie leaned over the railing and spat. “You did this to me,” he said. “I loved you!” he shouted. “And you did this to me!”
Everything seemed to stop out there on the porch—Molly, Glen, and Julian sizing up the situation as Cody stepped closer to Robbie.
Even as she glared at Robbie, Julian could see Cody’s eyes trembling, her expression taut and on the verge of cracking.
“You don’t understand,” she said quietly.
Glen stepped between them, trying his hand at peacemaking. “Guys, look, we’re already here, and the nurses are riled up. They’re going to be looking for a stolen car. So how about we all go inside and figure things out without tearing each other up?”
Cody stared at Robbie for a long, hard moment, then turned to Glen.
“Fine,” she said, and headed for the door.
Molly grabbed Robbie and watched icily as Cody slammed the door behind her. She led Robbie to the other side of the porch.
After a few minutes of relative calm, Glen and Julian checked the Lake car for any trackers or bugs—none found—and then drove it to the garage around back.
Glen was troubled. “We’ve stirred up too much. They’re going to find us.” Julian wanted to calm him, but he couldn’t even calm himself—he kept seeing Rocky slip away from him into the back of the van, feeling angrier and more helpless as the memory looped.
At the kitchen table, Julian sat with his head in his hands, his mind racing through plans to find his brother and free him before . . . before . . .
He couldn’t finish the thought.
“Julian,” Molly said.
Julian looked up at her, snapping out of it.
“So, you’re saying my name is Molly, and we used to be friends?”
Julian nodded.
“Weird,” she said, rubbing her chin in that familiar way of hers. “A Molly just seems like a dumpier kind of girl than me, don’t you think?”
Julian laughed, the mixture of exhaustion and fear that had coursed through him held at bay for a moment.
“That sounds exactly like something Molly would say,” he told her.
She nodded, a tiny glimmer of a smile. “I’m sorry your brother was taken,” she said. “Did I have a brother?”
Julian frowned. “No. But you had a mom and dad. They’re gone now. The Lake took your house.”
She frowned. “Why would they do that?”
Glen sat down beside them, placing mugs on the table.
“Hush money. It happens a lot with retro families. They sign nondisclosure agreements saying there’s nothing wrong with the Lake, they take the money and they take the new house and they’re gone.”
Molly frowned. “Sounds like they don’t really care about what happened to me, then.”
Julian looked up. “They were probably heartbroken,” he said. “They were told you didn’t know who they were anymore. That you ran away. You can’t blame them.”
Molly shook her head. “Well, I don’t know them.”
Julian sighed. He’d been told that in this world, death was rare. It was . . . managed. But really, death was there all around them: in every moment that had vanished. In every face and interaction that had been forgotten.
Robbie—standing in the corner darkly, his arms crossed—turned down Glen’s offer of chocolate soy. He watched and stewed as they chatted.
After a few minutes, Cody emerged from her room holding a box of stuff. She tossed it on the floor in front of Robbie. Their photos spilled out.
“This was Jake,” she said, pointing at the photos. “Not you.”
Robbie glared at her. Glen rose from the table, ready to intervene.
“Jake built this house with me and Glen and Callum. But you are not Jake.”
Robbie tensed his jaw. “You made me into this,” he said.
“Jake knew what he was getting into.”
“You left me behind at the Lake.”
“No,” Cody said. “Jake . . .” Her voice cracked, then she swallowed it and composed herself.
“Jake went off script. He led the nurses away from me. He sacrificed himself so I could escape. I spent weeks searching for him on the Row. I found you, and I wanted to believe he was still inside you. I brought you here, and I thought maybe I could undo what had happened to you. But it was impossible. You got worse and worse. Then you stole our car. You ran off with our kids, taking them down to the Row to teach them to steal. You almost brought the nurses right to us. I had no choice but to kick you out.”
Robbie glared.
“I loved Jake,” Cody said. “But you’re not Jake anymore. And the truth is,” she said, looking down, “I was relieved when you forgot about us.”
She stormed out, tears welling in her eyes.
A distant, lonely glaze fell over Robbie’s face, and he gathered up the pictures scattered on the floor. He peered closely at one of them and then chuckled softly. “I thought maybe this white spot was some retrograde thing,” he said, touching his neck. “But I guess I’ve always had it.” He released a sad little laugh and walked outside to the porch.
Molly followed after him, leaving Glen and Julian alone at the table.
“She’s never lost her edge,” Glen said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “In all those years I’ve known her.”
“Did you know her in Florida?” Julian asked.
Glen blinked. “Florida?”
Julian explained what Cody had told him about the 6/12 incident, and her parents, the Lake scientists, and the artificial Lake they were building somewhere west of St. Au
gustine.
Glen laughed. “Sometimes I forget you were a One until just a few months ago,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Julian asked, puzzled.
“Cody’s lived in Lakeshore her whole life. God knows who her parents were. They might’ve worked at the Lake. Or maybe they worked for the army. That’s another story she used to tell. For a while there, they worked in the president’s military council.” He shook his head.
Julian was flummoxed. “She’s . . . making it up?”
Glen shrugged. “She’s from the Row. Like the rest of us. Her parents maybe went retrograde. Or maybe they just dumped her there. It’s a convenient place to dump kids.”
He ran his finger around the inside of his mug, getting as much of the leftover sugary dregs as he could. “But having parents who were the renegades in the 6/12 incident sure sounds a lot better, don’t it?”
So, Cody was just another kid from the Row, trying to make sense of what had happened to her, trying to gain some control over this world.
Julian shook his head, feeling even more deflated. Did she really know about any of the things she seemed expert at? But just as soon as he had the worry, he realized that it didn’t matter—because right now, he needed to get Rocky out of the Lake facility, and Cody was pretty much his only hope of doing that.
Just then, Cody emerged from her room, her face bright and recomposed from a fresh wash, and her hair tied back. She went to the porch and knocked on the door. Robbie and Molly walked over and stood in the doorway.
“You guys can stay,” Cody said. “If you promise to play nice.”
“Thank you,” Molly said. But Robbie was stone-faced.
“Well?” Cody said.
Robbie nodded.
“The moment something sketchy happens, you are out of here,” she said.
She turned to Glen.
“Can you show them the extra room in the basement, please?”
Glen nodded.
“And you’re telling me to do this because—”
“Because, if I’m not mistaken, we have a break-in to plan.”
She looked at Julian.
He nodded.