The Isle

  “Hey, if the Second Appeal works, we’ll be drinking fancy Falls fresh by next week!” Ter says, tapping my knee gently. “Ain’t so bad.”

  Derek lowers down beside us. “Really? And what happens when Magistrate Harcourt sees an army of people who don’t die? He’ll open the aqueduct, sure. But do you think he’ll forget what he saw?” Derek and Sipu exchange wary glances—they already know the answer: he won’t.

  “This isn’t a permanent fix, Terrence,” Sipu says. “Chief Dunn’s just opening a different can of worms.”

  “We need to find Ren and Callum. When’s Benny getting here? We need to do something.” My voice sounds tougher than I feel. Stronger.

  “Like what? Go there?” Ter says this like it’s an impossible idea. I look at him, quite seriously, and he balks. “And then what?”

  His cuffcomm goes off.

  “It’s Ren,” Ter says, reading the message. “She wants us to jailbreak Callum. He’s being transported from Security A this minute—so we gotta go, like, now.” We stand to leave when a second message comes . . . this time for Derek.

  He stares and stares before reading it aloud:

  I’m taking Dunn. It’s not what you think—I have a plan.

  “To the spring?” Ter and I say in unison. I swallow, confused. What is she doing?

  Derek edges toward the door, his copper brows pinched tight. “I’m going to find her. Comm me if you have trouble getting Callum.”

  As I move, about to follow, he lays a palm on my shoulder. “Ren won’t want Chief Dunn to see you, Aven. He doesn’t know my face. You guys go find Callum—fast.” Derek nods at Ter and Sipu before slipping into the kitchen.

  “Jailbreak, then?” Ter says. “We gotta hurry if we’re gonna find him.”

  We leave the pantry, swinging left out of the kitchen and into a crammed hall. New DI officers sit together, chugging full canteens. They don’t pay attention when we bolt for the far stairwell, hopping between their thinly stuffed mats like cracks in the boardwalk.

  Halfway down the stairs, Ter stops short. He’s face-to-face with a handcuffed Callum . . . and the security officer standing right behind him. Slung over the guard’s shoulder is a loaded shooter, ready for action—a dart pokes out of the barrel, unused.

  The guard’s eyes darken—he recognizes us. He lifts his shooter over Callum’s shoulder, aiming it at Ter’s nose. Bringing his cuffcomm to his mouth: “Backup needed on the rear stairwell—” he begins, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

  Ter lunges forward and grabs the barrel. He points it up—the guard pulls the trigger. A crack rips through air and smoke clouds the stairwell. As Callum wrestles himself free, the dart hurtles toward the ceiling. We cover our heads and sprint up the stairs. The electric blue net’s paralyzing stars catapult far away, not touching one of us.

  In the hallway, I have the lead—I jump from mat to mat, avoiding officers’ legs. Our own commotion chases us, and Ter doesn’t make it easier by grabbing a young soldier’s shooter as we run. The boy shouts “Hey!” and both old and new DI officers catch on to our escape—but the hallway’s too packed. No one can reach us fast enough.

  “In here,” I say, poking my head into the kitchen. I point past the cooks and servers to a window, and next to it, an exit.

  While Ter types away at his comm, we race for the door.

  I throw it open first, glancing around into the crisp, black night for a place to hide. Hedges illuminated by bright solar-powered bulbs outline the mansion, and two low trees frame the door.

  “Look,” I say, ducking under one. I wave for the others to follow and we crouch together, hidden by tough, fingerlike branches.

  “Benny’s here, you guys,” Ter whispers, looking at his comm. “He’s anchored off the west coast. He needs coordinates so he can get the Cloud ready to go.”

  “We can’t go back to my place.” Callum shakes his head as Sipu tries to help him out of his handcuffs. “Chief Dunn’s men completely destroyed my lab—and that’s before he had evidence I was involved. Now that Dunn knows about Dr. Justin Cory, it’d be foolish to return.”

  “Well, we certainly can’t return to mine,” Sipu says, digging around in her hip belt.

  Beside us, the moat ripples as a gale travels down the Hudson Strait from the north. From Upstate.

  I swallow. There’s only one place for us to go.

  “We’re taking it to the Falls.”

  Like a cartoon, three jaws drop. Six eyes come right out of their sockets. “I’m serious,” I say, pointing to the ballroom. “In a few hours, Chief Dunn is sending an army Upstate. Not just any army—an army that can’t be killed.”

  Turning to Callum, I tap his hand. “Remember the protest? That man said the Falls has surplus water stores. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe if he saw our faces . . . if he realized that he’s hurting actual people, he’d reopen the aqueduct. Just for a little while. Shouldn’t we at least see if he’s willing to negotiate?”

  “Negotiate how, exactly?” Callum asks. “We’ve got nothing with which to bargain.”

  Indignant, I feel my cheeks flush hot red. How can people knowingly be so awful to one another? “Reason, maybe? Or compassion?” I snap through gritted teeth. “It is too much to expect that humans have some humanity?”

  Sipu quiets me, her eyes glued to the window. Inside, a flock of heavyset officers are talking to the cook, asking questions. The cook nods and points to the exit.

  “Hide.”

  Grabbing my hand, Ter pulls me behind the hedges, his newly stolen shooter banging against his hip. We lay lengthwise, crammed between sharp, leafy twigs and the mansion’s foundation.

  The kitchen door opens.

  Five officers pass, boots trampling the moat’s muddy bank.

  I’m frozen, curled up against Ter. His heart beats against my spine. I’m so distracted by his closeness, my anger dissolves and I ignore the officers entirely. When Ter’s sure they’re gone, he pokes up his head.

  “All right,” he says, plucking a branch from my hair. “I’m gonna vote Upstate. Not because I think it’ll work, but because, at the very least, Harcourt might feel like a scumbag after we leave. That’ll be worth it.”

  I do not throw him a dirty look—that wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it’ll do.

  Callum sits up from the bushes on the opposite side of the door. He brushes dirt off his nice black pants. “I’ll come, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be. There’s something I promised Ren I’d do.”

  “I’m staying,” Sipu tells us. “I’ll head back to the docking lot and get my mobile. That way, if the DI are tailing you, I’ll hear it on the comm and I can offer you some coverage.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “You’ve already risked a lot.”

  She’s quiet. Her blond hair falls in front of one eye, but she doesn’t move it. “I agree with Ter—I’m not sure this will work, but I also agree with you, Aven. Humanity is a foreign word these days. I’d like to be optimistic again.”

  I meet her eyes and smile back, the closed-lip kind. She squeezes my hand once, then lets go.

  “We’ve gotta roll.” Ter scans the perimeter, using his cuffcomm like a compass. “Benny’s intercepting their comms—he’s drawn me a safe route to his mobile.” Standing, he turns toward the island’s west coast. “Follow me. Stay low.”

  It’s happening, I think, racing after him. I can feel myself glowing again. I hug myself, but not from the cold—I’m warm all over.

  I wonder if Ren was born with this feeling.

  46

  REN

  9:32 P.M., FRIDAY

  “Keep moving!” Chief yells from the ballroom balcony as I maneuver too slowly through the hallway of mattresses. The steel GPS tracking cuff he outfitted me with blinks red at my wrist. Dunn knows where I am and how slow I’m going. And if I stop moving, he knows when to bark at me.

  I give him my best “Yessir” nod and quickly send off three comms: one to Derek, one to Ter�
��and the last to Callum, asking him not to tell Aven. I don’t want her worrying about something that might not happen.

  Looking up from my cuffcomm, I nearly collide with two girls in DI uniform, younger than Aven by no more than a year.

  “What’ll you do when you’re rich?” I overhear.

  The second girl grins and shrugs. “I’ll wear my fancy clothes to my fancy school and eat anything I fancy,” she answers between bites. “You?”

  “Every time someone drinks water, I’ll inform them that they should thank me for my contribution.” The girls giggle, so damn ready for a future Dunn never should have promised in the first place.

  My insides unravel.

  Tomorrow, this kid’s gonna see her blood spill on foreign soil. I’m not sure it matters that the wound won’t last.

  “Ren!”

  Not Dunn this time—my black-and-blue heart jumps at the familiar voice. I spin around and find Derek right there. My rib cage clenches, squeezing my lungs of air. He looks at me, his hair the color of luck.

  Once upon a time, I wanted luck from no one, not even Aven. Good skill, she said instead. Now, I’ll take luck from anybody willing to hand it over. As I walk, I rub both pennies on my necklace. I wonder if they’re dual-function charms: skill and luck would be great.

  I turn away from Derek. “Dunn’s watching. I can’t stop,” I say, and push toward the front entrance.

  Making myself forget that I might not return from this.

  “What is this plan, Ren?” He stops me, touches his hand to my shoulder. I survey the room to check if Dunn’s watching—he’s on the balcony, poring over at least a half dozen map holos with his second-in-command.

  This could be our good-bye, I realize. And we only just began. Without warning, I take Derek’s arms and wrap them around my waist. Loving isn’t something to be put off.

  “I have to,” I whisper into his mouth, then breathe a kiss onto his bottom lip. “I-I—can destroy it, Derek. With my blood . . . my parents, they—” The words cramp in my throat. “They knew about the spring. My mother drank it while she was pregnant, and now I have some poisonous protein in my blood. With enough of it, I can kill off the ecosystem. For good.”

  Derek’s rust eyes search mine. “Who are your parents, Ren?”

  I don’t know how to tell him. I can barely say it myself. “I need you to trust me.”

  He stumbles over his words, runs a hand through his hair. “Ren, of course I trust you. I just—”

  “There’s no reason to stop me. Callum figured out a way to make more water . . . since you’ll need it.”

  From the balcony, Dunn shouts, “What did I say, Agent Dane! Report to the front entrance immediately—my unit is waiting on you!” In the grand space his voice booms, and now I’ve got everyone’s eyes on my back.

  Derek’s attention is elsewhere. “Dammit,” he curses, looking over my shoulder. “Kitaneh.”

  I turn—a girl with onyx hair spilling behind her like a black flag rushes for the entrance. She casts us a cutthroat look before disappearing through the double doors.

  Brack.

  “Now she knows I’m leading a unit,” I whisper, kicking my heel against the marble floor. “Fantastic.”

  “I’ll comm her—let her know this isn’t what it looks like. May not do any good, though; she’s been unreachable since I left.”

  “I have to go,” I tell him again once Kitaneh’s out of sight.

  The entire walk to the front entrance, Derek’s at my side, shuffling to keep up. When I don’t slow down, it hits him: This is for real. I’m not turning back.

  “Don’t do it, Ren,” he begs, resting a hand on my elbow. “If what you’re saying is true—if your blood really could—you don’t know how much . . .”

  . . . blood I’d need to spill for it to work.

  “Callum’s doing the math.”

  “Even if you do have enough blood . . . ,” Derek goes on. He’s afraid for me, and it’s made him agitated. “You could die too soon, before the ecosystem does. Your heart would stop pumping.”

  That is a great point.

  “Then I’ll have to stay alive until it’s done.”

  As I stop at the front entrance, Derek’s whole body tenses up under his lab coat.

  “Once I get to your apartment, I won’t know how to reach the cave. Kitaneh’s gonna be ready—Lucas too, and with the DI along for the ride, I’ll need your help holding them off. Will you help me?”

  Derek looks away. He’s steeling himself—against me. Against what I’m about to do, and what I’m asking of him. He gives a sharp nod. He doesn’t want me to do this thing, but he knows there’s no use arguing. “I’ll see you on the other side, then.”

  He is referring to the other side of the Hudson Strait, that I know.

  But I can’t ignore the double meaning.

  47

  AVEN

  9:40 P.M., FRIDAY

  “Into the Cloud!” Benny shouts, as if it were our very own battleship—not the word for fluffy white sky bunnies. He steers up to the coast, engine sputtering. “Now what’s this about going to the Falls?” he says as Ter jumps in, tossing his new shooter under the seat. Callum follows, wriggling over the rail and cursing the cuffs still locked around his wrists.

  “Dunn’s got an army,” I say, and throw one leg into the boat.

  “Yes, yes, that I heard over their comms.” Benny holds out his arm for me but Ter nudges him out of the way. I let him give me a little lift.

  “An invincible army,” I clarify.

  Benny shoots us a look. “Young folk should never tease their elders.”

  “No one’s teasing.” Agitated, Ter scratches his temple and gives Benny the abridged version of our night. “Aven wants to talk to Magistrate Harcourt. She thinks that, maybe, if we put a face on the UMI’s situation, he might have a change of heart.”

  Benny rubs his wiry whiskers, considering. “Perhaps,” he says. “It’s certainly a different approach. Still, we should be prepared for disappointment; I don’t trust Harcourt will be so easily swayed. Those in power usually aren’t. It makes them look bad, even when it’s human decency on the line.”

  Ter grips my arm and listens to the wind. Benny hears it too. Behind us, the rumbling of revved-up engines chase across the islet. They’re headed for us.

  “T-minus now!” Benny shouts, throwing the wheel right. His Cloud kicks a great frothy wave against the bank as we speed along the wooded islet. I fall into the plush white vinyl seat, thankful for its cloudiness.

  A pair of beamers carves around the islet’s tail, careening over black water. Another follows, racing to catch up with the first.

  “A chase will just eat up gas,” Benny says, cutting the lights. The Cloud slows to a crawl along Castle Islet’s swampy west coast. Long branches dip their fingers into the water, and roots claw at us from underneath.

  We veer around trees wider than the chief’s own body. Benny parks between two giant trunks, both with cascading greenish leaves. We’re in almost total darkness now, except for the moon and the yellow headlights.

  Through the branches, both Omnis veer closer. They’re only a few hundred feet away. When the second one drops behind the first, Ter squints, shaking his head. “What’s he doing?” he asks.

  A scraping noise claws apart the quiet. The second Omni collides into the first, tearing off his rear propellers—they spin off, cutting up the water.

  “That’s Sipu . . . ,” I whisper, clutching the rail. In the pit, I see her bleached hair, as bright as a lighthouse.

  The DI Omni seesaws—Sipu pushes him into the coast. Her mobile, relatively undamaged, reverses. All’s quiet until she bumps the DI mobile again . . . this time, she doesn’t back away. She uses the mobile’s bullet-shaped nose to steer him toward a massive tree’s tangled roots. Then she slips underwater. She lifts the DI Omni from its undercarriage and deposits him even deeper into the thicket.

  “She’s jamming his comm,” Ter says,
and Benny nods in agreement.

  The DI can’t free himself, not without the use of its rear propellers—he’s stuck there.

  “Let’s go,” Ter says, fumbling through Benny’s dash. Finding a spool of thick boating wire, he plops down in front of Callum and begins poking around in the handcuff’s lock.

  Benny brings us out of the watery forest and follows the coast north. On our right, a few hundred feet off, we pass Castle Isle’s north pier—and a half dozen docked Omnis.

  No one breathes.

  The Hudson Strait opens up in front of us, two miles wide. The Ward’s toothy, spired skyline shoots up from the other coast. A steady breeze plays over the river’s black water and Sipu trails our sluggish wake.

  The half dozen DI Omnis recede into the distance, staying where they are.

  Callum exhales as his metal handcuffs fall to the floor with a chink.

  Thank you, he mouths to Ter, flexing his wrists.

  After a few silent minutes, Benny reaches under his seat. He lays a large, old piece of paper on the wheel.

  “Where we headed?” Ter asks, gathering around. I join too, but Callum stays where he is, fumbling with his comm.

  Benny points to a spot north of us. “About thirty miles more.”

  “Thirty miles doesn’t sound that bad. From top to bottom the Ward is about ten, right?” I say.

  “DI,” Callum warns, pointing back toward the north pier. A single yellow beam swings away from the Castle Isle coastline. It shoots forward into the middle of the strait . . . still a good mile away, though.

  I grip the rail with both hands. “You think he sees us?”

  “No idea,” Ter answers.

  “Let’s give Sipu a chance to head him off,” Callum says. “If we jump the gun, we’ll end up with a dozen of them on our back.” Benny agrees and holds course, not driving faster or slower.

  Leaning against the Cloud’s rail, Ter, Callum, and I watch as the Omni swings left. North—toward us.