“Okay,” Manfred nodded. He kept stopping the clip and running it then stopping it again and running it backwards and forwards several times, emitting triumphant, challenging grunts and sounds like, “Ha! Ah, there!”
Angel paced the room, arms folded around her waist.
“Okay, come here,” he hastily reached back and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her toward him and made her sit right next to him, sharing the chair seat with shoulders pressed against each other. “Now, pay attention,” he said gravely, forcing her to look and not giving her time to feel the flush of being bodily connected to him from shoulder to hips.
One by one, Manfred showed her where all the edits had been made, pointing out inconsistencies in the film rendering and effectively proving that Julie had not been chasing Aard and he’d been killed by someone other than Julie. “This vid has been very expertly edited to show something that didn’t happen, Angel. Sometimes it isn’t what you see, but what you don’t see that matters. That’s the power of Gaia.” He leaned back and tapped his lips pensively with a finger. Then he turned those sudden eyes on her that lit her from inside.
She returned his gaze with a confused stare. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Well, let me show you something else,” Manfred grinned. As his fingers coaxed out yet more files, he continued, “Remember, Angel, its not just your eyes, it’s your brain and your thoughts that interpret what you see. Your mother might be a hothead, like someone else I know, but she isn’t a cold-blooded assassin. This is what my father interpreted her to have really said, by reading her lips that day she shot those Pols in the Den.” Manfred pointed at the grid and the screen lit with her mother’s face again. “You’re scum after all, punishing him because of me—” Julie began and was cut off by a retort from Langor.
“You can see from her expression he must be saying something awful to her,” Manfred put in. “Maybe insulting her, like, ‘you’re nothing to me, bitch’.”
Then Julie spoke again, “Bobby’s just an old man. He did nothing to you...”
“Here Langor must say something really nasty to her,” Manfred narrated to Julie’s reaction. “Maybe about her uncle.”
Then Julie responded with “Bastard!” and pulled the trigger.
This time her words matched the anguish in her face and the pain and shock when she pulled the trigger. Driven by a lover’s quarrel, not a calculated act in a political insurrection.
“Search your heart for the truth, Angel,” Manfred said softly. “Your eyes can deceive you. Trust your feelings.”
“I want to believe it, but I don’t want to if it isn’t true,” she said.
“Well,” Manfred said with a sigh, “if my mother was Julie Crane, I’d think twice before throwing her in with the likes of Gaia or the Dystopians. She was framed, pure and simple and my dad thinks he knows why.”
“Why?”
He shut off the vee-com and got up off the chair, which forced her to get up as well or fall over. “Get some sleep,” he advised. “It’s late. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Angel said, taking the frayed blanket he offered her and making herself comfortable on the couch as he went to the door.
He turned briefly. “The door will be locked,” he assured her. “And only Po, Tim, Jenna and I have a card to get in.”
“Thanks again, Manfred,” she said.
He winked. “My pleasure, for the wild girl from the heath, the daughter of the famous and good Julie Crane.” He left and the room was abruptly silent. Too silent. There were no windows and Angel felt uncomfortable in the dark so she left a small light on.
What if Manfred had shown her was the truth, not what Gaia had shown her? Which was the reality? She wanted so much to believe what he’d told her and shown her, especially that her mother wasn’t a stone-cold assassin. Angel wanted so much to believe that her mother hadn’t been a willing co-conspirator in the spread of Darwin. It made sense that her mother wasn’t but it still upset Angel to think her grandfather could have been a plague-spreading terrorist. Perhaps the virus had been created for another use and they’d mistakenly interpreted Julie’s reaction to represent the rest of the non-veemeld population. Their only fault, then, would have been in not coming forward once they saw the lethal effects of what they’d unleashed on the rest of Icaria. From what she’d learned so far, it seemed that none of Darwin’s creators were able to live with that burden.
She recalled the vid-clip of Julie’s father destroying his lab in a violent rage. His behaviour was appropriate for a scientist who’d unintentionally created a pandemic that killed millions of innocent people. It was maybe even cause enough for murdering his colleagues, Angel supposed, but then she thought of her mother’s temper and knew in her heart of hearts what had really happened. Long ago Julie had shot a Pol out of uncontrollable rage as part of a quarrel. No more, no less; and it must have been the same with her grandfather.
But just days ago her mother had shot someone in the heath, presumably the person who’d killed Aard and she’d done it in self-defense, Angel reasoned. Her father had hinted that bad people were after them, which was why her mother had left to lure them away. Angel stared beyond the walls all the way to the heath and summoned the image of cold determination on her mother’s face when she’d killed that man. Did she recognize the same fire in her grandfather’s eyes in that violent vid-clip? Even though Angel felt like she should draw comfort from knowing that her mother wasn’t an assassin, there were still too many unanswered questions for Angel’s peace of mind. She thought about it for a few moments longer and finally concluded sadly that she was afraid of her mother and the way she’d killed with such skill...
Then Angel felt her own anger boil up inside her. If her mother hadn’t killed Aard, who had? Why did Gaia have that film if she wasn’t somehow connected to what had happened? Her vicious plot for power was at the root of all this; of this Angel was certain. Then she recalled something that Gaia had said: by “killing” SAM, Julie would be eradicating the last shred of incriminating evidence against Gaia. That was where Angel would begin. She looked over at the vee-com and smiled...
***
She walks the smooth corridor, gazing in wonder at the rainbow of glittering light that streams down from no place in particular. Angel eagerly approaches the corner of the bright hall, expecting the cloaked figure she knows is Proteus.
She rounds the corner and grins at Proteus waiting for her. Angel says, Let’s join, Proteus. I want to be able to talk with you when I’m awake too.
[To join you must go into a deep trance. It will appear as if you are dead. Does this frighten you?]
Angel feels herself stiffen momentarily. No. I...trust you Proteus. Before finding out about her mother, Angel would have plunged in without a thought. Now she feels doubt and some trepidation. I’ll come out of it, won’t I?
[Yes.]
34
Dragging Frank’s limp body clumsily between Victor and Zane, the three fugitives and Victor’s droid made their way through the upper halls with no incident. Victor and Julie had been housed in a less restricted area reserved for special cases under “house arrest”, unlike the traditional Pol Station lower level cell where Julie had been locked up when she’d awaited her Shaming twelve years ago.
“This isn’t going to work,” Zane whined for the tenth time as they descended a stairwell into an empty hall. Julie glared at him and nudged her head forward in warning. Almost giddy with shot nerves and exhaustion, she was ready to punch him out if he said that one more time.
“Shh!” Victor hissed, stopping in the middle of a hallway next to the side exit they were hoping to use. Julie heard it too.
“What?” Zane said too loudly.
“Someone coming down the hallway, around the corner,” Victor whispered, plowing urgently through his jacket pocket with his free hand fo
r his exit card.
“It’s actually four people.” Julie placed a restraining hand on his arm. “There’s at least a dozen waiting on the other side of that exit,” she said, shooting Victor a warning look. “And somehow I don’t think they’re friendlies.”
He frowned at her. “How do you—”
“Trust me. I know. My enhanced hearing, I guess.” She shrugged.
Zane piped up excitedly, “It’s like a radar system. Like a bat. Did you know that her abilities are—”
“Shut up!” both Julie and Victor hissed.
“I think we have a better chance with those four.” She pointed down the hall. “Especially considering that you don’t even know if your card works anymore.”
Victor nodded with a sigh and straightened, resigned to what was coming at them from around the corner. Within a few heartbeats four Pols appeared. At the sight of the three fugitives the Pols stopped and assessed them suspiciously. Julie noticed their hands poised over their holstered weapons. The oldest one spoke, “What’s going on here?” His gaze glanced from Frank, head lolling and drooling as he hung between Victor and Zane, back to the other three. Frank’s shirtfront was covered with what looked and smelled convincingly like vomit. The Pols flared their noses at the sour reek and the pathetic site.
“It’s all right, officers,” Victor said in a tone of authority Julie hadn’t thought possible in him. “We’re taking Mr. Langor to the Med-Center. He’s had too much ambrosia as well as something else and is not feeling well.” Victor gave them a curt smile. “You know what I mean,” he whispered conspiratorially. The fact that the older Pol had no idea what Victor meant was obvious in his confused frown, but he didn’t admit it, which boded well for his perception of Victor’s authority, Julie thought. They just might get through this.
“And who are you all?” The Pol’s stern gaze flickered over Zane and he rested his eyes on Julie. He studied her with narrowing eyes, as if searching his mind for recognition. She tried not to give away her rising anxiety. What if he figured out who she was?
“This is Langor’s girlfriend, you fool,” Victor bit out, letting impatience rise in his voice. Julie gave the Pol a demure smile. “And this,” Victor flicked a hand toward Zane, “is one of Dykstra’s men.”
Zane nodded. “I have direct orders from John Dykstra to watch over Mr. Langor.”
Julie saw it on their faces even as her own adrenalin spiked. Zane had blown his cover. John Dykstra had been the Head of Secret Pols twelve years ago. Zane should have said Brian Dykstra.
The Pols drew out their weapons
The Exit door banged open and a dozen disheveled men and women burst into the hall, surrounding them all, and brandishing battered but functional-looking laser guns. Their faces were ugly and scarred beneath their worn brown cloaks. Julie’s chest grew tight with realization: Vee-radicators!
“We came for Julie Crane!” a burly man with no lips, shouted. He waved a Pol laser gun in his large hand as he swung his large body and pinned his eyes on her. “There!” he pointed. Julie instinctively recoiled.
Victor seized her arm and jerked them back out of the fray as shots were exchanged between the outnumbered Pols and the Vee-radicators. It was then that she saw him, standing a little apart from the others. She drew in a sharp breath and tore from Victor’s grasp to step forward. It couldn’t be!
“Daniel?” Her voice warbled.
His eyes darted to her out of a heavily tattooed face, which tightened in a tangle of pain and indecision. “Julie, I—” Then with sudden urgency, “Come with us!” He held out a hand. She noticed that he held a weapon in the other.
“Julie, come on!” Victor hissed, leaving Zane with the burden of Frank’s dead weight to grab Julie’s arm again. “This is our chance!” While the Vee-radicators and the Pols were engaged in battle, Victor pulled her toward the exit door the Vee-radicators and Daniel had entered.
Julie tried to read Daniel’s expression. He didn’t look like their prisoner. More like one of their recruits, brandishing a Secret Pol weapon in his hand and tattoos all over his face. He seemed in control of his fate even though he presently looked uncomfortable with it. She shook her head at him then urged, “Come with us, Daniel!”
“They’re getting away!” a Vee-radicator boomed, shoving past Daniel and practically knocking him down. Daniel made no move to join them or to protect himself from the Pols. He just stood there with a pained expression as Julie helped hoist Frank up and the three fugitives tore out through the exit into the milling crowd of Darwin Mall.
Julie fought from looking back and her eyes stung with tears. She let Victor lead them through the blurry crowd. The chirping in her head intensified—they were being followed. Julie ruthlessly shoved her feelings aside. She couldn’t afford to think about Daniel or what his being here meant. A brief glance over her shoulder revealed at least two Vee-radicators on their tail, shoving their way through the crowd. “We have company!” she hissed.
Victor nodded and craned to get a glimpse of their pursuers. “Vee-radicators.”
“Two of them,” she added.
Victor led them to the entrance of a Liv-Center and sliced his card over the viewer. The door hushed open and they ducked inside. Julie let go of Frank and leaned close to Victor. “I know it’s helping us get into places but shouldn’t you ditch your card?”
He looked at her with puzzlement, then realization flashed on his face. Twelve years ago Daniel had inadvertently led the Pols right to Julie with his card. “They can’t trace this one. It’s special.”
She nodded, satisfied. “You two go ahead,” she urged. “And make a lot of noise.”
Victor frowned. “But it’s you they’re after—”
“Get moving!” she commanded, peering through the frosted window. “I see them coming.” She waved Victor on and gave him a lopsided smile. “Like you, I’ve learned a few tricks also.” She ducked behind the door.
Zane and Victor seized Frank who had slumped to the ground and stumbled down the hallway as the two Vee-radicators shot the locks and burst in through the doors. They broke into a run, guns training on the two fugitives ahead, when Julie flew across the hall and threw herself, legs snapping high and slamming into the neck of the first man. He toppled sideways with a grunt into the other man. Guns clattered to the floor.
Julie landed on her feet with a bounce and pivoted on one foot, swinging with all her weight as the second man charged her. Her boot made contact with his jaw in a reverberating crunch. He yelped and fell backward with a thud as the first man scrambled to his feet. He lunged for his gun but she slid there before him, and in one fluid movement she kicked the weapon aside and followed through with another hard kick to his face. He fell backward with a weak cry. Landing in a combat crouch, Julie assessed the two men. They were both out cold. Blood was streaming out of the second man’s mouth. She’d likely broken his jaw. He’d probably leave it that way, she thought with macabre humor.
Breathing heavily from the sudden exertion, Julie straightened and turned to Victor and Zane, who were staring at her in amazement. She shrugged in response. Surely Victor knew about her combat training with Aard. She retrieved the two weapons then sprinted toward her co-conspirators.
“This way,” Victor said in that nervous high-pitched voice she’d grown accustomed to hearing whenever she intimidated him. Inhaling deeply, Julie grabbed Frank by the armpit and nodded to Victor. He led them through a set of doors, which revealed access to the lower levels. They descended flight after flight of stairs to the darkest levels, each taking turns relieving one of the two carrying Frank. To Julie’s surprise, Victor’s droid managed quite well on the stairs and required no additional help. When they reached bottom, she nodded to Zane and they dropped Frank’s still-unconscious body on the ground and took a much-needed break.
Still breathing hard, Zane said, “I can’t believe we got a
way so easily. You were great, Victor. Finding a window to escape while the Pols and Vee-radicators killed one another. And you were incredible!” He turned to Julie. “All those wild kicks and acrobatics. Vee! They never even knew what hit them! Where’d you learn that?”
Julie threw a glance in Victor’s direction. From a dead man, she thought. She sat down on the lower stair and leaned her arms on her slightly bent knees, glowering in silence. She caught Victor covertly watching her and shivered. She felt rage, fear and despair competing to tear her apart. “What am I doing here?” her mind screamed at her. Here, with a liar maybe—even a spy a sexual voyeur and a rapist, none of whom she could trust. None of who could likely help her save her family. As for her family...if Daniel was here, then that could only mean that Angel was here too. Was she also with the Vee-radicators and did they know she was a veemeld? Like a train derailing over a cliff, her mind raced with unimaginable thoughts.
Zane blithered on, “I can’t believe we got away from those ugly bastards. We should ditch the Head Pol. It’s getting too dangerous—”
“Why are you here?” Julie snapped at him in a spitting voice.
Zane winced at the sharpness of her demand. “What do you mean?”
“I mean back there you gave us away,” she said, seizing his darting gaze and holding it like a vice with her intense stare. “I think I recognize his motives,” she said, pointing curtly to Victor but keeping her eyes on Zane.
Through her peripheral vision she could see Victor’s wounded expression. He obviously thought she meant his unsavory habit for sexual peeping. She hadn’t meant that, but if he wanted to take it the wrong way, let him. She was too tired and hurt to care and getting angrier by the minute. This place and this motley crew of fugitives were the last thing she wanted now. What she wanted was her old life back: a warm bed with Daniel beside her and her cherished daughter safe. Instead she’d somehow led her family here, into this den of intrigue, duplicity and rebellion, where chance had placed her husband on the opposite side. And her daughter, heaven knows where...
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