She leans in, waiting for me to tell the full story. But I lock my gaze to my screen. For days I have sat here like this, rotating through our lecture documents on the screen, while in my mind I pull out the papers from the archive building – the ones I scanned as I searched for more information related to the memo – and meticulously review page after page, searching for anything that might help.
Hanna sighs and turns back to her work.
A lot of the archived papers are meaningless. Memos. Forms. Business as usual. But other pieces are strange. Some of it makes my gut twist into knots. What is the Directorate doing with full genetic analyses of citizens? Why are traits being flagged that have nothing to do with a person’s health – things like mental capacity, inclinations for special talents, personality type? Is the Directorate using departure dates to select the genetic traits it wants to propagate? Did Evie just inherit the wrong set of genetic code?
My digipad beeps. A reminder for my mental health appointment. It is time to see Joyce again. I push up from my desk with a sigh and start the walk to the MHM building.
***
My eyes lock with Joyce’s as I settle into the usual plush cream chair across her desk as we size each other up. No more pretension of us as friends, or equals, or anything more than opponents.
With a smile curling at the edge of her mouth, she splays my latest performance marks out on the desk.
“What happened, Gracelyn?”
I could hardly explain even if I wanted to. It’s not just Evie, anymore. It’s everything I’ve come to know about the Directorate as the outer sheen has peeled away and exposed the rot underneath. It’s losing my faith in Quinn and her plotting with the Licentia, knowing I can’t do anything to stop it. It’s the sheer dullness that my life has become without it.
I loved my old careful, ordered life, and that has been stolen from me. I want it back desperately, and I hate myself for it.
“Did you take the pills I prescribed?”
Joyce leans forward over the desk, her brows folded in a shape mimicking concern. As if she really believes she helps people. As if she could really help me.
I shrug, staring down at my shoes.
She nods. “I’m going to prescribe you more. Take them this time. And you know what? No more follow-ups.”
I am so taken off guard by this I look up to her.
She purses her lips, almost disguising a pleased smile at getting a reaction from me. “Either you take the pills and get back to life, or they’re going to put you away. If these visits were going to do you any good, they would have already.”
She turns away from me to type on her screen, dismissing me.
As I stand up, she adds over her shoulder, “It’s not too late to get back on track, Gracelyn. But it will be soon.”
***
Joyce’s threat itches at my ears the rest of the afternoon, making it impossible to continue my mental search of the archive’s documents.
On the shuttlebus home, Hanna talks at me the whole ride – she has really warmed up to Quinn, now that she is the favorite by default. It makes me cringe. I tune her out, staring aimlessly at the people getting on and off. At least, until I am distracted by a woman a few rows ahead of us who keeps turning around and staring at me. Her short blonde hair and bright blue eyes are familiar, but I can’t place her. The way she looks at me makes the back of my neck prickle.
When I get off at my neighborhood’s stop, so does the blonde woman. Out of the corner of my eye I see following behind me as the others disperse towards their homes. I try to hurry, but she closes in and grabs my arm, forcing me around to face her.
“Don’t do anything,” she orders. “Stay calm and nothing bad needs to happen.”
My head thunders with a pounding pulse. Though her grip is hard on my arm and her eyes are sharp, the woman’s expression is smiling and friendly. From a distance, no one would notice anything out of the ordinary. It is only in her glare that I recognize who she is – it is the woman from my first night out with Quinn, the one with the scarf over her face. She’s Licentia.
“You think you can get out that easy?” she says, her mouth stretched in a smiling grimace. “Quinn might think you’re okay to go back to your little life and pretend nothing happened, but you know what I think? I think you look like a rat. So do C and P. So we’ll be watching you. One false move, and you’ll find out for yourself how murderous we can be. And don’t forget, we can see everything.”
She shoves me as she lets go of my arm and steps away. “And have a great evening,” she calls back for all to hear, the tight smile on her face broadening.
I stare after her, too scared to think, my hands shaking.
I never wanted this. All I wanted was to understand what happened to Evie. The Directorate was right about one thing, at least – chasing emotions does nothing but hurt you. When I regain my composure, I run home, not caring who observes my reckless hurry. I go straight upstairs to my room and stare out of the window, searching for other familiar faces. They have my digipad codes. They know where I am every second. They have every bit as much information about my life as the Directorate does. What am I going to do?
The next morning, another small blue pill dispenses onto my plate with breakfast, staring up at me next to my protein. I snatch it off my plate before Mother or Father can see, and shove it into my pocket.
I can feel myself running out of time. Am I still going to be able to find Evie, all on my own? Do I still have the guts do see this through? I do not know if I have it in me. But I also know that if I don’t, I will feel like this forever.
Chapter Forty-Six
Evie
“Evie.”
The voice is sharp, cutting through my dreams into consciousness. I bolt upright and look towards it.
“Raina?” Raina is never harsh. Never demanding. Something is wrong. From outside, the night swells with voices and loud shuffling. I rub my eyes.
“The Directorate is coming,” she answers. “We have to go.”
I bolt from the bed and pull my clothes on. “Oh shit.”
As I shake off the haze of sleep, I look out of the window to see the whole camp is bustling, loading up packs and taking count in groups.
“Grab what you can,” Raina says. “Thirty seconds. Then you’re outta here.”
I lie down flat on the ground, pull out my drawing pad and pencils from under the bed, and shove them into my backpack on the dresser, then add a few sweatshirts and whatever other clothes I can grab.
“Ready.”
Raina nods. “I need you to find Sue and stay with her. She was out by the Med tent.”
That’s when I realize Raina is not packing anything for herself.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“Not yet. Soon. A few of us have to stay behind. Stay in touch with the contacts inside.”
Her hair sticks out in funny directions and her shirt is crumpled. A solemn ache hides behind her eyes. I can’t remember the last time I saw her sleep. Or even come inside the cabin. I don’t say anything. I get it – this is what she has to do: to deal with the risk Kinlee is up against, and the rest of them. She has to be there. Surely someone on her team knows when to stop listening to her and get her out.
She hands me a folded-up map. “Just in case. I marked the best way to safety.”
I take it from her and stick it in my back pocket.
As I head to the door, Raina pulls me in for a tight squeeze. “I love you, Evie. Good luck.”
No “Be careful,” no “Stay safe.” That’s not how we do things. We just love, and we do it fiercely.
I squeeze her back. “Thank you. For everything.”
There is far too much to thank Raina for, and nowhere near enough time, so I don’t try. I just cling to her tight for an extra moment, trying to convey all the ways she has not only saved my life, but transformed me.
Then I shift my pack higher on my shoulder and set out into the crowd, currents of fear and
confusion pulling me in like an undertow. I have never seen anything like it, and could never imagine such a scene. It’s impossible to believe the camp is over, even as I watch it break apart before my eyes.
“Evie!”
A hand closes around my wrist as I look towards the voice. Connor’s bright eyes meet mine, and my core goes still despite the swirl of activity around us. His pupils are dilated, and little tense lines gather around the edges of his eyes.
“This way,” he says. I’m grateful to be able to follow instead of finding my way alone through the madness.
He leads me past the camp behind the trees, pulling me close. He brings his hand to my cheek.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you?”
“Yeah. But…” He shakes his head, glancing out towards the chaos.
“Where are you going to go?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. You?”
I shrug. “Wherever Sue is going. Raina gave me a map. You should come with me and follow Sue.”
I take his hand and hold it tight. He squeezes it back, hard. Wherever we’re going, we’re going there together.
I try to smile, though whether it’s to assure Connor it will be okay, or myself, I couldn’t say. I look out at the camp and realize this is goodbye.
Goodbye to first friends.
Goodbye to first jobs.
Goodbye to where I learned about choice and pain, and how much more I could be.
“Guess I don’t get to know for sure all that’s wrong with me, after all.” I’m not sure why this is the part that comes out. Maybe because it doesn’t hurt as much as the other things.
Connor squeezes my hand again. “You can start over with the testing. Wherever we end up, maybe they’ll have better tech for it, anyway.”
“Yeah.”
Goodbye to my last thread of connection back to the Quads. Goodbye to submission. Goodbye to departures.
Goodbye to Gracelyn.
As this last fact hits me, it is as if I’ve fallen and knocked the wind out of myself.
No.
I can’t let this be goodbye, not to her. Even if the camp is destroyed, I still have to get her into this world – she has to experience all this freedom and choice and love for herself.
“I have to go back.”
“Did you forget something? Because I don’t – ”
“No. Back to my Quad.”
Connor’s expression darkens into a frown. “Evie, I know you wanted to get your sister, but surely now…”
I wait, but his words drift off.
I shake my head. “It’s even more important now. This is my last chance.”
This is something I have to do. I just have to.
Connor studies me, and I stare back at him.
“It’s okay, Connor. Get somewhere safe. I’ll find you, I swear.”
I start to let go of his hand, but he holds onto me tighter.
“Are you kidding? You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’m helping.”
“But the evacuation,” I say. I tug on the straps of my backpack, fighting the impulse to swallow him in a giant hug. “By the time I get back, everyone will probably be gone. You should stay with them.”
He shrugs. “I wanted to go out on my own and see the world. Might as well start now.”
I leap into him and wrap my arms around him tight, before realizing there isn’t any time.
My drawing pad is in my backpack, which means I have my map of the tunnels with me. I can figure out the rest on the way.
“I have to get to that tunnel under the bunker,” I say.
“Then let’s get to the tunnel.”
Still holding hands, we head back into the chaos. My heart pounds and my chest tightens, and I am afraid that my old breathing problem will come back, but I don’t dare slow down. Slow down, and I lose Connor, or we get caught, or we get carried away by the wild current of the people running in every direction.
It quietens again as we head into the woods towards the bunker. We break into a run. When I reach it, I throw back the trap door, and a cacophony of voices rises from within.
“Are they all in there?” I exclaim. “Shit.” It scares me all over again, thinking of the Intel & Recon crew disintegrating into chaos like the rest of the camp.
And if there’s that many of them down there rushing around, I’ll never make it to the tunnel before one of them sees me.
But I can’t turn away from Gracelyn without trying. I will make it, because there is no other choice. We make our way down the ladder as quietly and as quickly as possible. At the bottom, I press up against the wall and watch the chaos of the bunker while I wait for Connor to reach the ground too.
Agents stand at each and every station, and more are rushing back and forth, carrying thick folders of papers and wearing tense frowns.
Thankfully, I don’t see Raina anywhere. She must be in one of the inner rooms.
Connor lands beside me.
“Wow,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Well… what’s the plan?” he asks.
“Um. Look like we’re supposed to be here?” It’s not great, but it’s the best I’ve got. “People are used to seeing me in here. Everyone is so rushed and distracted, maybe they’ll forget I left. Or assume I came back to help.” Guilt tugs at me – that’s probably what I should be doing.
“All right,” he says. His shoulders hunch in, betraying the false confidence in his voice. “Which way?”
“Come on.”
I lead the way towards the surveillance room, trying to keep us near the back wall, out of the main flow of the traffic.
“Hey.” A large muscled man calls out as he approaches us, and I freeze in my tracks. It’s Grant, the man who interviewed me with Raina about Tad. “You authorized to be here?”
My mind goes blank with panic.
What would Kinlee do? I try to project confidence.
“I’ve been working here a few weeks now, don’t you recognize me? Raina said she needed all hands on deck.”
It’s a risk, using Raina’s name. It helps my story sound more believable, but if he calls to her to verify, I’m done. He studies me, then nods.
Relief rushes over me.
But then he turns to Connor. “And you?”
“I… “
Shit. I was hoping that would be enough.
Connor looks to me, squeezes my hand, and then releases it. Go.
“Like I told her, I won’t leave without her.”
“Teens,” the man says, shaking his head. “No way kid, back up top.”
Connor gives me a slight nod, grinning ear to ear. “Make me.”
And then he darts off into the whoosh of agents dashing around the main space. The man rushes after him, leaving me free to keep going.
Thank you, Connor.
There’s no time to worry about what will happen to him next – probably get tossed back out to the chaos above, to get out with the others. Where will he go? How will I find him? My heart aches to think of it, but I can’t let his gift go to waste. I’ve got to get to the tunnel.
I slip into surveillance, and find the room full, but quiet. Every station is manned, agents standing and watching each and every screen with intensity. Some are on the Quads, but most now show the camp’s perimeter. All at once, the gravity of the situation hits home. This time, it’s not a question of if something is out there. It’s a question of when it will come for us. A quiver of fear shoots up my spine. It makes me want to turn back. It also makes it all the more important that I go.
There’s the trap door to the tunnel, right in the middle of the floor, and all the agents’ backs are turned to it. Can I be quiet enough? I try to hold my breath, but my lungs are working too fast. Adrenaline throbs in my wrists and twitches in my neck.
I’ll never make it while I’m so on edge. I lean against the back wall and close my eyes. Breathe in and count like Father taught me – In, two,
three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five. In…. Out…. In….
I move, carefully and slowly, towards the trap door in the floor. None of the agents so much as shift their feet. I kneel down and glance over again. They are so focused on watching for the Directorate out there that I am not sure they are even blinking, but they still haven’t noticed me.
I slip my fingers under the metal lip and slowly, slowly, slowly lift it, just enough to slip through. My hands are slippery on the metal ladder, and I have to hook around it with my elbow to steady myself as I slip the door back into place. I breathe deeply and try to keep my cool.
Once the door is set, I pause to catch my breath, hardly believing I made it.
Gracelyn, I’m coming.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Gracelyn
“Gracelyn. Gracelyn. Gracelyn.” The last one is accompanied by a sharp tug on my arm. I turn to see Hanna at my side.
“Yes?”
“Didn’t you hear the announcement?” she shouts. “We’re being attacked! There was a bomb!”
I become aware of a loud voice blasting through the speakers: “An unscheduled curfew is enacted, effective immediately. Return to your home, where we will deliver additional instructions.”
Lost in my shuffling through the files from the archive, I guess I pushed its repetitive rhythm out of my mind, along with everything else.
I look up towards the speaker and stare at the red flashing light.
“We have to go,” Hanna says, pulling me towards the door.
I follow her as the crowds file into the streets, all of us bumping into one another in the chaos. Transport employees in yellow vests wave us into lines, where shuttle after shuttle is lined up along the curb, heading to every corner of the Quad, waiting for us to board them.
There was a bomb? I look around and find there is smoke rising from the other end of the Quad, near the archive buildings.
People shove and yell, confused and anxious to get home. The order of the day-to-day is the thing the Directorate protects at the expense of all else. If they are willing to put it at risk, the threat must be really serious.
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