by G. P. Ching
Korwin blinks at me. He knows I mean Hemlock Hollow when I say Willow’s Province, and he beams with joy at my invitation.
“Do I get a say in this?” Jeremiah chimes in. “Do I get a vote on whether you risk all of our lives to save a man who is all but dead already? We could escape now, Lydia. We could go back to Willow’s Province today, without getting involved in other people’s problems.”
I turn on Jeremiah, fixing him with a stare that must glow blue because it lights up his face like a spotlight. “No, you don’t get a say.” I don’t mean to hurt him, but this is not Hemlock Hollow, he is not my husband, and he doesn’t make my decisions. I’ve made up my mind.
Korwin grabs my hand. “It’s a good idea. It’s the only way.”
Jonas’s crossed arms and grave expression say exactly what he thinks of our plan.
Korwin pokes a finger toward him. “The grid is going down. I suggest you mobilize the rebellion while you still can. They’ll either take the opportunity or they won’t, but either way, I can guarantee it won’t come again.”
Ready for war, I march toward the door, only to see that my father is sitting up on his cot, watching me with concern. I stop, waiting for his challenge, for him to assert his authority over me and try to make me stay. I place my hands on my hips and meet his eyes.
“Go with God’s grace, Lydia. You know what it says in the Bible, in the book of Esther? It says, ‘Who knows whether you’ve come to the kingdom for such a time as this?’ In other words, we go where we’re called. Seems like you’re hearing His instructions loud and clear. You trust in that. Don’t worry about me.”
I run to his bedside and throw my arms around him. “When the lights go out, take Jeremiah and wait for me in the alley. I’ll come for you.”
He nods and kisses my forehead.
I return to Korwin, taking his hand and leading him to the door. We wait for Jonas to open it.
“Jonas?” I prompt.
“I could keep you locked in. The room is grounded and fireproof.”
I turn my deadliest stare in his direction. “That won’t stop me from incinerating what’s inside of it.”
For a second we play tug-of-war with our eyes. I don’t back down. I don’t even blink.
He presses a button on his desk and the door slides open. “Give me as much time as you can to notify the others. Please.”
I nod. I will give him that.
32
“We’ll need to break into the power station and override the main transformer,” Korwin says. We jog down the alley and take a left at the crossroad. “I’ll warn you, it’s heavily guarded. This is how I got caught the first time.”
I arch an eyebrow in his direction. “I never knew. All this time I’ve wanted to ask you and never had the chance.”
“Jonas has a reason to be nervous. We tried this once before.”
“What happened?”
“I was supposed to blow the transformer. I’d practiced for months and thought I was ready. On that night, I joined a team of rebels under Jonas’s leadership. Three men. The plan was for the three to get me in and then I would bring it down. When the city went dark, the rebellion would attack.”
“What went wrong?”
“I thought I had it. I juiced but there was too much. I couldn’t take it all in. So I pulsed. Pushed everything I had into the transformer. Caused a wicked energy surge but it wasn’t enough. All I managed to do was call attention to myself. Before I knew what was happening, I was captured and hooked up to the drainer.”
I squint my eyes at him. “Didn’t the others try to rescue you? The three men? The rebellion?”
“It didn’t happen.”
“But your father… didn’t he even try?”
“I guess the risks were too great. I was collateral damage.” His voice sounds strangled.
I shake my head. “The rebellion has a history of cut and run.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means we’re in this alone.”
“Yep.”
All at once I hate Maxwell Stuart. It’s one thing to lose a soldier but another to sacrifice a son. There’s no excuse. What reason could there possibly be for abandoning your child? But there is no time for us to wallow in the past. Unlike his father, Korwin has decided to do the right thing. He’ll try his best to save Maxwell. That’s the man he is. But, truthfully, I’ll have no problem leaving Maxwell behind when we go home.
I shrug and pass him a nervous smile. “Just as well,” I say. He seems to understand. Our fate is written in our DNA.
Korwin leads me down the back streets and away from the most congested part of the city. The night is cloudy and cool, no moon or stars. It gives the air a stark chill, like we are on the edge of bad weather. I pull my jacket tighter around me.
We walk a few miles, the buildings growing farther apart. Off in the distance I can see the glow of lights and wires, as wide as a city block.
“There it is. This is the hub for the whole city. All the energy created flows through here before it’s parceled out to users.”
Over the stretch of barren landscape, the building that houses the transformer rises on the horizon. A slight wind picks up the dirt, and it dances in swirls across the air. Aside from a few thin trees and some formidable boulders, there is nothing to mar the view.
“There’s almost no place to hide,” I say. “What if someone sees us?”
“It could happen, but luckily there’s no reason for people to come this way unless they work here. The shift change happens at seven. It’s four now, so we have three hours before any new traffic. There’s no avoiding the guards. Our only hope is to take them out before they have time to act.”
“I’m ready,” I say, but the truth is I am far from it. Never in my life did I expect to be here, martyring myself for a cause that has nothing to do with me. I ache for home. I miss my cow and the haymow, even the feel of bread dough between my fingers.
We race across the dirt, swiftly moving between trees and boulders in the darkness. The closer I come to the transformer, the more my confidence wanes. Korwin notices. I’m not sure if it’s the sag of my shoulders or the way my steps are growing progressively shorter, but he takes my hand in his and squeezes it.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says.
I remember the first time he said that to me, after escaping from CGEF. He’d seemed too weak to help anyone when I found him but he ended up saving us both. There is a good possibility we’ll both die tonight. So many things can go wrong. The electricity might overwhelm us. We could get shot or scrambled. Tortured. Drained to the point of death. But as I look at Korwin, all that matters to me is that we try our best to be free.
I’ve always thought Hemlock Hollow was a type of prison, that living behind the wall with the Ordnung’s many rules was limiting. Now, in a world that seems bigger, a world without rules, I actually am a prisoner. I’m wanted and jailed for who I am. I long for the freedom of Hemlock Hollow’s wall.
“I can see a guard,” I say. “And I think he sees us.”
Korwin spots the person in the green uniform a hundred yards away. Without pause, he grabs my hand and pushes a focused pulse of energy in the guard’s direction. The green uniform collapses. We don’t waste any time. We sprint across the field, no turning back.
It turns out the guard is a woman, mercifully close to my size. I remove the electronic device from her ear and place it in my own. Static. I hand it to Korwin, who holds it up to his ear.
“The pulse temporarily knocked out her communicator. It might buy us some time,” he says.
He helps me undress the guard and I slip into her uniform. The material is different, more like the type we use in Hemlock Hollow than the stretchy, self-adjusting kind the Englishers usually use. I tuck my hair under the gray cap, pulling the bill down low over my eyes. I place the earpiece into my ear; the static cuts in and out ominously. “Larissa? Larissa, are you there?” a voice says. “She’s not answering. I
’m going to check on her.”
I motion toward my ear and pull Korwin against the wall of the building. Coming, I mouth because I’m not sure how the communicator works. Korwin understands and turns so that his back is to mine. The man comes from my direction.
“Larissa,” he starts when he sees me. He holds up a hand to get my attention, then notices the real Larissa in a heap at my feet. He doesn’t have a chance to speak another word. I grab his wrist and twist him into a chokehold until he passes out. The movement is practiced and smooth. Although I am smaller, my victim doesn’t even have time to yell for help.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Korwin whispers, a sense of awe in his voice.
“CGEF. David.” My voice is flat.
“Why didn’t you just pulse him?”
“Saving my energy. More efficient.”
Korwin’s mouth drops open.
Hurting someone, even a stranger, has consequences. I lower the body of the first person I’ve ever intentionally injured to the ground while an awful weight settles at the center of my chest. The man’s badge says Quincy. He has a hooked nose and bushy eyebrows. Is he a father? Brother? Uncle? Have I done permanent damage?
“You can’t think about it, Lydia. It’s them or us.” Korwin tugs at the man’s uniform. “Come on. Help me. We don’t have much time.”
I snap out of my guilt wallowing and go to work on the man’s boot. We are not so lucky with Quincy’s uniform. The man is smaller than Korwin, as most men are. Korwin can get the pants on but they are three inches too short and the seams of the green jacket strain near the shoulders. As I suspected, the material does not adjust to size.
“Damn cheap Greens,” Korwin says, tugging the sleeves toward his wrists. “It’ll have to do.”
We head for the door. The earpieces cut in and out; panicked voices interrupt clouds of static. Larissa and Quincy do not respond. They can’t. We’ve stowed Larissa’s body behind the back of the building and are dragging Quincy behind us. We have a window of opportunity to do what we came to do, and we can’t waste a minute.
Korwin uses Quincy’s hand to trigger the Biolock, then dumps his body. We enter the building, knowing it’s simply a matter of time before we’re found out. Korwin leads me to a service elevator at the back of the building. He’s done this part before; he knows where to go. I hold my breath as we pass a group of green uniforms. I don’t make eye contact and they are too busy talking amongst themselves to notice us. It isn’t until we are inside the elevator and the door is closing that one of them stops and calls to me.
“Larissa?” the man asks. “They’re calling for you on the cloud.”
In response, I give the man a tiny nod and a smile. The doors close and the elevator descends. I blow out my held breath.
“That was close,” Korwin says. He removes his earpiece and motions for me to do the same. “These things transmit both ways when they’re in your ear but turn themselves off when you take them out. They won’t work in here because of the electromagnetic energy field. Can you feel it?”
I close my eyes. The air tastes like honey, and it tingles against my skin. “Yes,” I say, opening my eyes again. “I can feel it. We’re close.”
The elevator doors slide open. Korwin doesn’t exit right away. Instead, he pries the button panel off and twists some wires together. “This elevator is officially out of order,” he says.
We depart into the outdoors. The building is shaped like a donut and we are inside the hole at the center, in the open air. The transformer rises toward the night sky, to the wires above, and gives off power I can feel.
The alarms blare to life all around us.
Korwin tilts his head up, toward the circle of second-floor windows. “I think they’ve found the real Larissa and Quincy.”
Dozens of nameless faces stare down at us. People point and yell through the glass.
“Ready?” he asks over the hum of the transformer and the buzz of the alarm.
“As ready as I will ever be.”
He brushes my cheek. “Then let’s do this.”
The corners of his mouth lift but not before I notice the lower lid of his left eye twitch. He’s afraid. Maybe more afraid than me.
With a shaky hand, I grab one of the exposed cables that run into the pillar of metal in front of me. Korwin does the same.
And at the speed of light, I find out why Korwin is afraid.
33
In comparison, the first time I was juiced on the elevator in CGEF was like sipping energy from a cup through a small straw. At the mansion, getting juiced by Korwin’s bath was like chugging from a jug. Kissing Korwin could be compared to gulping from a garden hose. But this… Touching the transformer is like being force-fed from a fire hydrant. The power pours into me without limits. It’s like I’ve eaten a bad meal and I need to get sick, only I can’t because someone is fisting more down my throat.
“Breathe!” Korwin yells. He kicks my leg.
I inhale. It doesn’t help. “I can’t take anymore!”
Our power revolves around the transformer and lights up the night. We are the eye of the hurricane. It’s so intense, my hair blows back and my skin sizzles in the mounting energy storm.
Doors across from us open, but none of the officers dare approach our glowing blue forms. They try to shoot at us, but the bullets are absorbed by the aura of power.
“Pulse it back, Lydia. Send it back where it came from.”
I tighten my belly and push. Nothing happens. I can see the strain on Korwin’s face. It’s like trying to deadlift a semitruck. I push harder.
“You can do it. Pulse!” Korwin yells.
I try again. Somehow, I find the strength to empty the power I’ve stored back into the transformer. The metal groans ominously.
“Again,” he says.
I can tell he’s started to juice. I don’t want to open myself up to it again, but the pulse can only last so long. Once I’m empty, I’ll have to pull my hands away or open myself up to the flow. My eyes start to tear. The tide shifts, and the power plows back into me.
Head shaking, I look at Korwin. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You can. Don’t give up.”
All I can see is his silhouette through the blur of my tears. I want to help but I have to let go. I lift my left hand from the metal, but Korwin won’t let me give up. He snatches my hand from the air and smashes it back against the cable. The physical contact ignites the dance that lives between us, and he pulses out the side of our conjoined palms. It helps. The transformer vibrates, creating an eerie shimmer.
Shattering glass fills the night. The lights illuminating the yard extinguish, the blown bulbs raining down all around us.
My skin is on fire. Tiny red dots break out across my arms. Am I bruising from the pressure of the push? I might pass out. I might die. I am too fatigued to scream or pray.
And then a miracle happens. It starts to rain.
I’ve never appreciated how magical water can be. The gift from the heavens washes over me, cooling my skin. Steam rises off of us, curling across the dirt at our feet, cloaking us from the officers.
“Juice, Lydia,” Korwin orders. “Juice again and send any extra power into the water. Send it into the ground!”
I do as he says. I’m almost empty, and juicing rejuvenates my failing body. The flow isn’t overpowering like it once was. We’ve weakened it. Excited, I smile at Korwin.
“It’s working!” he says.
When I can’t hold any more, I bleed the excess into the water. It shoots down into the ground, following the moisture that slicks off me. The lights inside the building flicker.
“One more time, Lydia. Pulse on the count of three. One. Two. Three!”
I catapult the ribbon out of me and into the transformer. And that’s all it takes. The metal explodes in a shower of sparks. The transformer becomes a house-sized hand grenade. The force twists my body, snapping my neck and prying my fingers from the cable. Korwin�
��s arms are around me. He shields me with his body, turning in the air so that his back takes the brunt of the fall. I land on top of him— chest to chest, face to face—in the flickering light.
For a moment, we search each other’s eyes. His lips are so close I can feel his breath.
“That hurt,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
I want to answer him but there’s something wrong. I try to move but I can’t. My body twitches uncontrollably. Sweat breaks out across my skin and I heave over his shoulder.
Carefully, he sits up with me in his arms. He brushes back the hair from my forehead. “The surge scrambled you.”
I want to know how long I’ll be like this, but I can’t get my lips to work long enough to ask.
He stands, lifting me into his arms. Although my body won’t work, my mind is exceptionally clear. Around us is mass chaos. None of the people here can function without power. Their communication system is down and the doors won’t open. I remember the night we escaped from CGEF. Korwin said this was a security measure. Locking everyone inside was supposed to ensure any scampers were locked in too. There’s no concern for the workers, only the energy. People are screaming, banging against the glass like wayward birds. Thinking back to my life without electricity, I have to wonder. How could the Englishers let themselves get this bad? How could they become so dependent on something so scarce?
Korwin carries me to the nearest door and pulses it open. He climbs the stairwell to the main floor. The staff, the same people who had tried to kill us moments ago, watch us with panicked eyes, backs pressed against the wall.
“We can’t help them, Lydia,” he whispers. “They’ll turn against us. They’ll call for help.”
He’s right. I know he is right. As we leave through the door Korwin pulses open, slamming the heavy metal on the advancing crowd and soldering it shut, what remains of the crystal housing containing the compassion and innocence of my youth cracks open. Those virtues still circulate through my blood, but they are overpowered by my new sense of reality. The world is a bigger place than I’ve realized. Pain hurts more. Evil is more pervasive. People can’t be trusted. This isn’t Hemlock Hollow, and to exist in this world, I have to change. A vivid image of David kicking me in the ribs overtakes me. “What’s it going to be, Lydia? Are you going to fight or fail?”