Grounded

by G. P. Ching

  I am afraid to say anything. How much does CGEF know about Jeremiah and me? Anything I say could put us at risk.

  When the van door opens, Officer Reynolds pulls me out into a dimly lit garage. Unlike my first visit to CGEF, they aren’t bringing me through the front door. They force us inside the building and up the elevator to the clinic. I’m so terrified, my legs give out and Reynolds has to half-carry me into a room with a holding cell. With a shove, he directs me toward the bench at the back. I trip over my feet, landing awkwardly on my hip. He removes Jeremiah’s cuffs before backing out of the cell.

  “Aren’t you going to remove mine too?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  “No.” Officer Reynolds slides the bars shut and leaves the room, offering no further explanation.

  Jeremiah’s fingers go to work on my wrists, tugging on the steel bands. “They won’t budge. Can you…?”

  “No. They know what I am. These will drain me,” I whisper.

  He releases the cuffs and settles his elbows on his knees. With my hands bound behind my back, I try in vain to get comfortable on the bench beside him. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I say. It seems like a good way to start.

  “Don’t.” He turns his face away from me.

  “I read your letter and I took your advice. I guess Maxwell was right. How did we think we’d ever make it back home this way?” I whisper.

  Jeremiah’s head snaps around, his sharp look pinning me in place. “What letter?”

  “The letter you left on my bed. You said that I’d forgotten who I was and you were going home after checking on my dad.”

  He leans his face toward mine. “I didn’t leave. You did. You left me a letter.”

  “What?”

  “I found a note from you on my bed.” Jeremiah stresses each word. “You said I was in the way. That you wanted to stay with Korwin. That I should go home.”

  “No. I didn’t. I came looking for you when you left.”

  He slowly shakes his head.

  A twisting begins low in my stomach, a compression of razor blades that work their way up my throat and make my eyes burn. “Who?” My voice cracks.

  “I don’t know.” Jeremiah places his hands on my cheeks and lowers his forehead to mine. “But I wouldn’t leave you if you didn’t want to be left. What’s a little thing like you falling in love with someone else to come between lifelong friends?” He gives a weak laugh.

  “I never said…” I’m about to finish I loved Korwin, but I stop short. I do love him and Jeremiah knows it. His cornflower blues say it all. I’ve hurt him, deeply. But like me, he isn’t willing to give up everything we have. Our relationship is so much bigger than dating, than the physical. I don’t want him the way I want Korwin, but I do want him in my life.

  “I hoped you’d understand. It just happened. I never intended to hurt you.”

  He lowers his hands but his gaze drills into me. “Besides, if we ever make it home, who knows?”

  I avert my eyes from the sting of his hopeful tone.

  “How could I be so stupid?” he says. “You’re not sure you’re going home.”

  I can’t argue, although staying in this world doesn’t make sense either. I am a freak of nature, and the people here want to use me or destroy me. Maybe both. But when I try to picture myself going back, knowing this thing, this power is inside of me, I’m not sure I could put it aside. Would the Ordnung accept my abilities as a gift from God or condemn me?

  “Right now, I just want to make it out alive,” I say.

  His eyes dart to mine and the corners of his mouth pull down into a grimace.

  The door to the room squeaks open and a parade of green uniforms enters. I gasp as Korwin and Maxwell trip forward from the center of the group, thrust toward the cell doors in handcuffs. The bars slide open and I notice cuts and bruises all over their exposed skin. Maxwell’s left eye is swollen to the point of being useless. An officer removes his cuffs and he staggers to the bench. Like with me, they leave Korwin’s cuffs on.

  Once we are all locked inside the small cell, all of the Greens leave the room.

  “I don’t understand. How did this happen?” I ask Korwin.

  He shakes his head and glances at a round black bubble in the upper corner of the cell. Of course the Greens are watching and listening. Why else would they put us all together? I chide myself for being open with Jeremiah earlier. I’ve been so stupid. And where is my father? What have they done with him? I have so many questions, but I don’t dare say anything now. We wait in excruciating silence.

  After maybe an hour, one of the officers returns. “Lydia Lane, come with me.”

  What should I do? Why are they singling me out? I glance toward Maxwell but he looks away. Korwin meets my eyes and sighs deeply.

  “Now!” the officer says.

  Reluctantly, I stand and amble to the door. The man locks the cell behind me and then leads me down the hall, and to a neighboring room. I balk when I see Dr. Konrad and another older man I’ve never met seated at the table. Konrad’s expression is as severe as ever with that thin, drawn smile that makes me want to back out of the room. The other man is as warm as Konrad is cold and that scares me even more. He’s impeccably dressed in a vintage suit and tie, gray haired and gray eyed, and judging from his fingernails, his hands have never known real work.

  “What have you done with my father?” I ask Konrad.

  Konrad rakes his eyes over me. “Lydia, I want to introduce you to Senator Pierce. He’s the sponsor of Operation Source Code.”

  I refuse to respond.

  “Lydia,” Senator Pierce drawls with an accent that isn’t familiar to me. His voice is syrupy. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sorry about the way you and your friends were detained but I promise you, what happens to those folks in that cell and your father is strictly up to you.”

  “You’ll free them if I cooperate?” I ask, meeting Pierce’s gray eyes for the first time.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, but if you cooperate, their lives and yours will vastly improve.” He squints and jigs his head when he says “vastly” as if he’s selling me a sick horse.

  “What do you want? To use me as a human battery like you did Korwin?”

  “Oh dear, no.” Senator Pierce gives a friendly smile. “Please sit. Konrad, help the lady.”

  Konrad gets up to pull a chair out for me. I don’t sit.

  “There’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Pierce says. “We don’t want to drain you, Lydia. We want to work with you. We want to resurrect the program as it was intended and make you part of our security unit.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else? You don’t want to experiment on me or Korwin like guinea pigs?”

  “That’s it.” Pierce spreads his hands. “We do want to test your abilities but nothing will happen without your consent. We want to work with you, to be a team.”

  “And this is the way you invite me to the team,” I say through my teeth, turning to show him the cuffs.

  “The electrocuffs will come off as soon as we can trust you. There was no other way. The man in that cell, Maxwell Stuart, is the head of the Liberty Party and the cause of one of the worst incidents of terrorism I can remember since the war.”

  What? I try to stay neutral but I can feel a scowl twist my lips. He’s lying! They said the same thing about Korwin and me.

  “Ah, you don’t know, do you?” Senator Pierce holds up a finger. “The Liberty Party bombed one of our buildings. Killed seven government employees and nine civilians—children who were taking a tour of the building.” Senator Pierce’s chin drops to his chest and he glares at me from under bushy gray eyebrows.

  I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

  He rises from his chair. “If I can prove to you that it’s true, will you listen to us with an open mind?”

  For a moment I’m confused what to do. I’m sure he’s lying. “No amount of Green Republic-manufactured proof is going to convi
nce me.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” He looks at the guard behind me and nods.

  The officer opens the door and leads me back to the holding cell. Pierce follows.

  “Maxwell Stuart,” Pierce says, “could you please explain to Lydia who was responsible for the West Hub bombing?”

  Everyone in the room stares at Maxwell. He sputters but doesn’t answer. His lip is so swollen, I’m not sure he can speak.

  “We can get Konrad in here to give you some motivation if we need to. Answer me,” Pierce demands.

  I start to shiver. I can only imagine what type of motivation Konrad could provide.

  On cue, the doctor enters with a large leather bag. He opens it, and I see twisted and sharp metal tools inside, horrific tools, some with dried blood in the grooves. Konrad extracts a small box containing a syringe and draws up thick yellow fluid from a vial he pulls from the side pocket.

  Maxwell groans at the sight of it. His head lists on his shoulders. “We were after CGEF’s West Hub,” he mumbles. “We didn’t know there was anyone else inside. They were collateral damage.”

  Korwin jerks at “collateral damage.” I’ve never heard the phrase before, but I can guess what it means. He’s saying the sixteen lives were less worthy than his cause. The thought makes me nauseous.

  “Korwin, did you know about this?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, averting his eyes so that he doesn’t have to look at his father.

  “Oh no. Korwin was our guest at the time of the bombing,” Pierce says.

  I stare at Maxwell, my brain digesting that he’s a killer, a terrorist.

  “All I’m asking, Lydia, is for a chance to give you more of the truth,” Pierce says. “Cooperate, and the people you love will be made comfortable, including your father.”

  I face Pierce. It takes every ounce of resolve I have left to do what I have to do. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll cooperate.”

  Senator Pierce claps his hands together and laughs. “Well, hot damn! Guess we won’t be needing you after all, Doctor.”

  Konrad returns the needle to the box, looking slightly disappointed.

  “Boys, show our guests to their rooms.”

  The door is thrown open and a sea of green uniforms floods the cell around me.

  “Follow me,” an officer says softly. They’ve separated me from the rest of the group and sent me with a Green who looks about my age. I’m not sure if his politeness is feigned or if he doesn’t know why I’m here. He looks too young to wear the uniform. We ride in an elevator to a floor of apartments where he shows me to a door with no number. He presses his palm into the Biolock and the door opens on its own.

  “Please,” he says, motioning inside. He removes my cuffs and introduces me to a comfortable suite with a bedroom, kitchenette, and plenty of seating. The technology rivals the manor’s.

  I stare at the Biolock panel, remembering how I’d broken into one to save Korwin. Perhaps I’ll be able to break out.

  “Just a warning. Don’t try the Biolock,” the officer says. “It’s made to drain off extra energy to evade scampers.”

  “Oh,” is all I can think to say.

  “The television is also a control center for music and holographic games,” he says. He pokes a painting of a night sky and then points out the different options on the main menu.

  I shrug in response. He taps a button and the night sky painting is back.

  “There’s no cooking equipment. They don’t allow it up here, but you can order food.” He presses a few buttons on the irradiator, and a square of chicken magically appears inside.

  “How does that work?” I ask.

  “No idea,” he says and laughs to himself. “Something along the lines of teleportation. I never paid much attention in school.”

  “Me neither,” I say absently. Everything I could ever need is available at the touch of a button and I don’t want any of it.

  I’m relieved when he finally goes, even though I haven’t even begun to understand all of the features of this apartment. This place is simply a different kind of cell. The door is still locked and the wall of windows that overlook the city won’t open. Even if they did, I’m too high to jump.

  Again, I wonder what they’ve done with Jeremiah, my father, and the Stuarts, but I’m helpless to find out. My brain buzzes but the events of the day are too much. I can’t think or feel properly. I just am.

  Maybe a drink to clear my head.

  The refrigerator contains three different types of soda, stocked in rows to take up an entire shelf. I lift a bottle of root beer from the group and, after reading the instructions, screw off the top. I collapse into the leather chair that faces the window and drink it in the privacy of my cage.

  I want to scream. Instead, I let out a subdued moan.

  I’m halfway through the bottle when there’s a knock at the door. I give the wood panel a deadly stare. It’s locked. They’ve told me not to try to open it. Why do they bother knocking at all?

  Reluctantly, I move to the door and yell, “Come in!”

  When it opens, I almost drop the bottle in my hand.

  23

  “Jameson!” I stare at the familiar face first in utter surprise and then, as I notice the Green Republic emblem on the folder in his arms, accusation.

  “Jameson was my cover. My real name is David, David Snow.” He looks at me expectantly. “We have so much to talk about, Lydia.”

  The pieces of the puzzle snap together. “You’re with them. You’re working with the Green Republic.”

  “Yes. Invite me in and I’ll explain everything.”

  “You betrayed the Stuarts.”

  “Maxwell had it coming. Be thankful I got you and Jeremiah out of there before the Greens raided Stuart Manor. If I hadn’t, you’d be in far worse shape. Now, come on. Sit down. Let’s talk.” He nods his head toward the table.

  “And if I don’t?”

  He says nothing, but with the way he tilts his head, I know I don’t really have a choice.

  “Come in. Let’s talk,” I say cynically, turning my back on him.

  “You are so like your mother,” he says.

  I whirl in his direction. “So now you knew my mother?” As the words come out of my mouth, I remember how he said I reminded him of someone. Was that who he meant? My mother?

  “I knew your mother quite well.” Hastily, he sets the folder on the table and pulls a picture from it.

  I snatch it from his fingers. Four women and four men dressed in military uniforms stare back at me. The woman in the middle could be my twin. The man over her right shoulder is a young version of Jameson… I mean, David.

  My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

  “The man on her left is your father,” he says. “He was my best friend.”

  With the picture pressed between my fingers, I lower myself clumsily into the chair across from him. “You were one of the Alpha Eight.”

  He pulls the chair out and takes a seat.

  My fingers hover over the picture of my mother. She looks strong, determined. The man behind her has a similar countenance. “What were their names?”

  “Your father was Michael Fawn. The best and the bravest soldier I’ve ever known. Your mom, Laura, was a medic. That’s how they met. She treated his wounds in the Northern war.”

  I’m not familiar with the Northern war. The history we learn in Amish school ends with the Great Rebellion when the wall went up. I don’t ask though. It’s not important to me. “What happened to my parents?”

  David’s eyes sweep toward the window. “They died.”

  “Trying to escape.” My jaw snaps on the last word.

  David shakes his head. “The situation was complex. They weren’t in their right minds.”

  The couple next to my parents is olive-skinned and familiar. “Korwin’s parents?” I ask.

  “Yes. Jordan and Sicilia Villanueva.”

  “Also dead?”

  “Yes,” he say
s. “In the same way.”

  “And these two?” I ask.

  “Charles and Rebecca Stone. Assumed dead.” David’s attention shifts to the folder.

  “Assumed?”

  “Their bodies were never found.”

  “Who is this on the other side of you?”

  “My wife.” His voice cracks, and his expression morphs into hollow misery. She must be dead, too.

  I scour every inch of the picture, looking for answers the photograph can’t give me. “I want to know the truth.”

  He folds his hands on the table and I’m struck by how completely different he is. Jameson was stiff and formal. David has shed the black suit for a T-shirt and jeans and casually slumps across from me. Even his mannerisms have changed. “Ask me.”

  “How long were you undercover at Stuart Manor?” I ask.

  With a deep sigh, he leans back in his chair. “Five years. As soon as we discovered Korwin.”

  “And you’ve been feeding the Green Republic information on the rebellion ever since.”

  David doesn’t answer. In fact, his face turns to stone, expressionless except for a flick of his pupils toward a light fixture in the ceiling. It’s so fast I almost don’t notice it. Inside I feel a tug. I don’t exactly hear his voice in my head, but my intuition burns. David wants to tell me something but can’t.

  I thumb the picture in front of me. Korwin has told me about Operation Source Code, but his information was all hearsay. This is physical evidence. A living, breathing member of the study to share exactly how I came to be. I lean forward. “Tell me about Operation Source Code.”

  “Just over eighteen years ago, Senator Pierce sponsored a project with the goal of revolutionizing biological energy. After the war and the resulting ban on dirty energy sources, there was a huge shortage of power. Pierce thought if people powered their own lives, it would solve the allocation issues. People would naturally use less energy if part of it came from their own personal store.”

  He stops talking and glances at the refrigerator.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask flatly.

  He nods.

  I retrieve a root beer and slide it across the table.