by Zach Hines
Damn right.
“For what it’s worth,” Cody said, waking Glen’s computer from sleep mode, “I’m glad you’re here to do this with me.”
Julian nodded, and Cody pulled a blueprint of the Lake facilities up on the screen.
“We’ve been busy since Callum’s. Glen wrote a script that can broadcast a cease order from the Lake, which will tell everyone to stop all extinguishments. He’s also designed a program to sniff the database for the Spoof folders, which should contain all the Attison Project files, and download them to a data stick.”
“I’m going to find my brother,” Julian said. “And get him the hell out of there.”
“Right.” Cody nodded. “We’ll do that, too.”
She zoomed in on the map of the facilities.
“Do you see an Attison Camp on here?” he asked.
Cody frowned.
“No. We need a more current layout. Also, we’ve been trying to find any hidden traces of the Spoof floor, like venting or a strangely placed stairwell, or an unmarked elevator, but it’s not on these old blueprints.”
“Cody,” Julian said. “We can make this work, right? This is not impossible?”
Cody nodded firmly. “We can do this. I learned some things last time. The direct approach is not wise. We cut a hole in the fence and came in from the beach. I know now that is what they’re expecting. So, I figure the best way to approach it this time is to go exactly against what they’re expecting.”
“You mean, come in through the Lake?” Julian said.
“Exactly,” Cody said. “We burn to get in.”
“But,” Julian said. “We could get caught by the nurses and go retrograde like Molly or Robbie.”
“Not if we sneak in from the beach, disguised as nurses.”
Julian continued to frown.
“What if we don’t wake up? We might permadie.”
“I know,” Cody said. “But neither of our names were in the spreadsheet we found, so our numbers are most likely genuine. However, we can’t eliminate the risk entirely. We’ll just have to take it.”
Julian frowned. Did they both really need to take it?
“Cody,” he said. “I’m getting my brother back. I have no choice. But you don’t need to do this.”
“I was born to do this,” Cody said firmly.
Julian frowned, thinking about what Glen had told him about her parents, who she maybe never knew, who maybe were just regular old retrogrades like so many others, folks who lost their memories and lost their kid.
“You have these kids here to take care of,” Julian said.
“I’m doing this,” Cody said, her voice hard and cold. “I’m going to honor my parents’ memory.”
Julian nodded—he got it. It was just like his fantasy of living on Mauritius, hidden away from the world. Cody wanted a reality she could deal with, that she could live through. If her parents had to be heroes for Cody to keep putting one foot in front of the other, then so be it.
“Okay,” Julian said.
She sucked in a hard, sharp breath through her nose, then untensed her face.
“However. None of this is going to work unless we get an inside man. Someone who could get into the Lake facility and be willing to steal us robes, smuggle in the data stick with Glen’s programs, and sneak us into the building. This is really the complication for us right now.”
Julian’s face lit up.
He had a card to play.
And now he had a time to play it.
“I know just the right person,” he said.
Chapter 40
IT WAS HARD TO ESCAPE THE FACT THAT NICHOLAS Hawksley—the Burners’ Gold Star, the angel of death on high, the hunter with a list of meticulously researched targets—was no longer wearing the white blazer.
Nor was he the first one in the Lakeshore halls in the morning anymore. He used to be the sole student walking the main hall to the orchestra room at 6:30 a.m., a full thermos of coffee steaming in his hand, drawing disapproving looks from the teachers exiting their own morning meetings, who thought it was unhealthy for a kid to drink so much coffee—even though, probably, they were secretly envious that their rations for genuine coffee beans were so small.
No.
These days, Nicholas was just another kid in a navy blazer, thronging into the lobby as close to the 7:30 a.m. deadline as possible.
These days, it was Franklin who hosted the Burners meetings, and was held in a fearsome regard, especially as more students began disappearing.
Just like Molly and Anastasia, so went Clayton, and just yesterday, Amit Sandoval . . .
Julian stood at Nicholas’s locker, watching the lost little angel approach.
“I need to talk to you,” Julian said.
“That’s nice.” Nicholas opened his locker, sullen. “But frankly, I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”
Julian put his hand on Nicholas’s chest and stepped in front of him.
“Here’s the thing about people like you,” he said. “You’re always talking. Everyone is just an audience waiting for your orders, for your directions. You think you have this natural-born right to speak. Some right to have everyone follow your words. It’s the same with the life score—we have to follow it. Not anymore.” Julian shook his head. “Today, you’re listening to me.”
Nicholas sighed. His eyes were baggy, and he looked exhausted. “Out with it,” he said.
Julian took a single piece of folded paper out of his jacket and handed it to Nicholas, who studied it. His face turned pale and ashen.
“You’re a liar,” Julian said. “A fraud. A One.”
“Where did you get this?” Nicholas hissed.
“I’ve been looking in all the right places,” Julian said.
Nicholas glared at him, a pathetic little gulp worming its way down his throat.
“The Attison Project,” Julian said. “What do you know?”
Nicholas shook his head feebly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why’d you fake your number, then?”
“You think it was my choice?” Nicholas said, swallowing whatever putrid thing was in his throat. “You think I liked it? Everyone I knew was burning . . . except for me.”
“Then, why?” Julian insisted.
Nicholas blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, and looked around as if to ensure no one was looking.
“My father started taking me to the Lake once every other year or so since I was about eight. We’d go into a room, and someone would erase my old tattoo and give me a new one. It hurt, and I hated it. But I was told to never ask questions. Of course, I wondered why . . . but my father said I’d find out only when I started working for him. Until then, I was told to never talk about it.”
He shook his head. “Now, well, maybe I’ll never know.”
“I’ll tell you my guess,” Julian said. “It seems like plenty of other people are getting fake numbers too, but they’re going in the other direction. They have fewer lives than they think they do.”
Nicholas blinked dumbly—the kid with all the answers was genuinely dumbfounded.
“The Attison Project,” Julian said. “The Lake is using it to move people to permadeath much faster than they realize.”
Nicholas blinked. “That sounds like some nutso conspiracy.”
“Says the person with a fake number,” Julian replied.
Nicholas shook his head, disbelieving.
Julian explained the evidence he’d collected from Callum. How it all started with the file Nicholas gave him on his mother. “In fact, you can check all this out yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Nicholas was stunned stupid like he had been stricken with retrograde. “I am talking to you honestly right now, Julian. I know you may not believe me, but I truly have no idea what you are talking about. All I know is my father gave me my numbers, and I wasn’t allowed to question it. You don’t know my father. There is no second-guessing him.”
&
nbsp; “Fine,” Julian said, realizing he was at a dead end. “It actually doesn’t matter what you know. All that matters right now is that I have this on you.”
Nicholas glared. “So,” he said, “I assume you want something. That’s the point of all this, right?”
“I need you to help us break into the Lake.”
“Julian,” Nicholas said with a thin crackle of a laugh, “you’re supposed to be clever, remember? Why are you talking about something so stupid?”
“My father is gone. Permadead or retrograde, I don’t know.”
Nicholas frowned. “He must’ve been chasing that score. I told you, Julian. I told you, but you didn’t listen.”
Julian silenced him with a vicious look.
“I was taken to a group home with my little brother, and then they took him to Attison Camp at the Lake because he was a One. They didn’t realize I knew what the project was.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened—was this finally adding up for him? Was the sick web of the world finally making itself clear to him?
“I’m getting my brother out,” Julian said. “And you’re going to help, or everyone is going to find out you’re a One. Then what? You going to burn five in a row to catch up? Good luck not going retro.”
Nicholas eyed him severely.
“Look,” Nicholas said, trying to grab hold of the tables and spin them back around in his favor. “This whole Machiavellian thing you’re doing”—he gestured theatrically—“it doesn’t exactly suit you.”
Julian glared. “So that’s a no?”
Nicholas looked up at the ceiling, thinking. The moment was long and uncomfortable. Finally, he looked down at Julian—a flash of the old Nicholas briefly glimmered across his face.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Good choice,” Julian replied.
Time was of the essence, and he needed Nicholas to retrieve keycards and secret LakeNet files right the hell now.
But Nicholas slowed him down—he would need to break into his dad’s office, and the time for that would be when his house staff went on lunch break. He would download whatever updated maps he could find of the facility. They would reconvene after school and drive up together to Cat’s Cradle. In the meantime, Julian would prepare a DeadLinks post with evidence of Nicholas’s fake number, ready to publish in case something fell through.
“Ah,” Nicholas said softly when Julian explained his fail-safe. “I knew you didn’t lose your little spark of wit.”
Finally, as they agreed on the plan and were about to head off on their own ways for the morning, Franklin and Constance emerged from the orchestra room and strode toward them—the gold star on Franklin’s lapel and the silver star on Constance’s were glinting in the light.
“It’s so nice to see you two are still connecting,” Constance cooed as they approached.
Nicholas gave her an ugly frown. “Shouldn’t the school’s most popular Goth cheerleader be down at the cemetery smoking or whatever grim nihilist thing you do?” he said and then turned to Franklin. “And take your mascot with you.”
Franklin stepped closer to Nicholas, shifting his weight to make sure his gold star was prominent on his lapel. “I’m brushing off your little insults, Nick. I know you’re upset,” Franklin said. “But no one asked you to totally quit the club. You could have stayed.”
“What, and listen to you garble your way through some speech up there every morning? With all those inarticulate ums and uhs? You know, I hear good things about the public speaking class here.”
Franklin frowned and stepped close to Nicholas’s face, peering at him angrily.
“Besides, no one has stayed,” Nicholas said, standing his ground. “I even saw Logan without the white blazer yesterday. Logan. That kid is plain sick in the head, and even he quit. Rebuilding the Burners wasn’t as easy as you thought it might be, was it? You have to force people.”
Franklin glared. “We’re restoring honor bit by bit.”
“Boys,” Constance said, intervening. “Let’s not fight now, okay? What’s done is done.”
“Why are you here right now?” Nicholas asked, entirely out of patience.
Constance smiled and suddenly grabbed Julian. She put her arms around him and kissed him, pressing her lips hard against his cheek. It happened so quickly that Julian was momentarily stunned, but then he regained his senses, and he pushed her off. She stumbled back.
“What is wrong with you?” Julian said, wiping his cheek, smearing the back of his hand with red lipstick.
“A goodbye peck,” she said.
Nicholas grabbed Julian’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling him away. “There’s some kind of clumsy, desperate game here.”
Constance and Franklin stood there, grinning, as Julian and Nicholas headed away from them down the hall.
“They make a real cute couple, don’t they?” Nicholas said darkly.
“This is what it’s like,” Julian said, wiping the last bits of lipstick from his cheek. “Being a target for the Burners.”
A strange kind of somber pall fell over Nicholas. “Listen, Julian . . . ,” he began. Julian waited for him to continue, but he never did. He just shook his head, clucking his tongue quietly.
They made their way down the hall, and when they reached an intersection, it was time for Nicholas to head to his homeroom, and Julian to his. Julian turned to him. “The coffee machine after lunch, right before the start of fifth period. Don’t be late.”
Nicholas nodded, and then continued to his homeroom, not looking back. For once, Nicholas Hawksley seemed to have nothing to say.
Chapter 41
THE BELL RANG, USHERING THE LUNCH CROWD INTO THE halls for fifth period.
But Julian remained behind at the imitation coffee machine, nervously fidgeting with his phone. He hoped dearly that he wouldn’t have to push Publish on that DeadLinks story because that was his one card. Once used, he would be out of leverage, and they would lose their inside man, and then what—what could they do then to get Rocky back?
But just as the last few kids trickled out of the cafeteria, Nicholas came in from the parking lot, expressionless and waving a data stick in front of him.
They sneaked out the back door, avoiding the guards. They sat in silence as Nicholas drove them to Cat’s Cradle in his car, a luxury sedan, since the Burners’ van was under new management. Cody received them on the porch and ushered them into the computer room, keeping a wary eye on Nicholas as they walked through the house.
Glen plugged in Nicholas’s data stick, and brought up the updated blueprints. Julian studied them over his shoulder. “There,” he said. “Attison Camp.” It was a fenced-off area to the side of the facility, right off the beach, containing a half dozen smaller buildings.
“It looks like we have a bingo, Mr. Julian,” Cody said. “And looky here. A locked, restricted access elevator. Is that our Spoof level?”
“Probably,” Nicholas said, speaking up for the first time since they settled in for the briefing. “I’ve seen my father use that elevator before. Only nurses with a very high clearance level were allowed in.”
Cody turned to Nicholas. He was sitting on a sofa in the back, a judgmental frown plastered on his face. His hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. He had a pristine Five on his white neck and wore a crisply pressed navy Lakeshore blazer. This was decidedly not his scene.
“You have the Spoof access card?” she asked.
Nicholas retrieved a card from his breast pocket and waved it in front of him like a winning ace. “Director-level access. If this doesn’t get us in, then nothing does.”
She gave him a firm nod. “Impressive. I wasn’t sure what to expect after seeing your proclivities at that roller-coaster thing . . . what was it again?”
“It was called The Drop Dead Drop,” Nicholas said flatly. “And it would have been spectacular.”
“Glen here is ready if you don’t deliver, Nicholas,” Julian reminded him. “If we
fail, or if he doesn’t hear from us, the post gets published.”
“Dang right,” Glen said without turning around from the screen.
“And Cody, let’s just stick to planning, all right?”
Cody frowned. “Fair enough.”
“But will you apologize, please?” Nicholas asked, a smarmy grin on his face. “I mean, I am helping you now.”
Cody snorted again and looked at Julian. He rolled his eyes and nodded to her.
“I’m so sorry, my little boy prince,” she said, letting the words ooze out of her mouth like some foul slime.
“Good enough,” Julian said.
Nicholas made a small sound like a laugh that was being strangled, and looked down at the sofa. He ran his finger along the arm. It came up smeared with grime. He frowned, then took a tissue from his pocket to wipe it clean.
Glen ejected the data stick from his computer and swiveled to them. “It’s loaded up and ready to execute,” he said. Julian took the stick and tossed it to Nicholas.
“Once we’re out of the Lake, you give this to us along with the nurses’ robes.”
Nicholas slipped it into his pocket. “I think it’s a fair courtesy to tell me what you just put on this thing.”
It was the sniffer program that was going to find and download all the Spoof files Glen had discovered on the LakeNet server before he was locked out. Among them, hopefully, would be the Attison Project files, which they would reveal to the world.
This, they told Nicholas about.
What they didn’t tell him about was the virus, which, if run from an administration terminal, would broadcast an official cease extinguishment order across the county. The order was rarely used, but everyone knew what it meant—the Department of the Lakes tested it frequently on the radio station and drilled it into every schoolkid. The calm and reassuring female voice looping on the radio meant there was an emergency situation at the Lake, and everyone must immediately stop dying if it could be helped, even if you had just strapped into a snuff chair at an ex clinic.
This was Cody’s big move. The order would stop everyone from burning, and the Attison Project leak that came right after would ensure that no one ever started again.