Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I

by Lee Davidson

  Sure, now she wants me to break the rules.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’d be more shocked if you weren’t, considering your consistent disregard of the rules. Who was her Satellite?”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “Who was it? Come on, kid, we’re burning daylight here!”

  “Liam.”

  “Liam? Really?” She looks surprised for a few seconds and then exits the closet. “Come on!”

  I run to keep up. “What’s going on?” I ask when we’re in the elevator.

  She silences me with her finger, which remains frozen in front of her lips until the elevator doors open. She bolts through them before GPS Jeanette can get her words out and doesn’t slow down until we’re in Benson.

  I find Liam first and point to the back of the room. Willow spots him, too, and pushes through the crowd.

  “Liam!” she hollers, breathing heavy. “I need to talk to you.” She glances around the table. “Privately.”

  Liam and I follow/chase Willow down a long hallway into an unfamiliar part of the building. She holds a door open and Liam steps into a room.

  “Privately,” she reiterates, shoving her hand against my chest and slamming the door between us.

  “Willow!” I yell, jiggling the handle. I pound my fists on the door, but the thick wood mutes the effect. “Open up! Come on, you little psychopath!”

  Liam’s muffled voice raises, but I can’t make out his words. I slam my palms against the door, slide down its length, and fume.

  I spring up when the door starts to open. “Willow, you’ve got some—”

  “She’s raving mad!”

  I push past Liam and spin around the empty room. “Where is she?”

  “She took my tocket and displaced.”

  “She what?”

  “She’s a lunatic!”

  “Tate’s tocket?”

  Liam paces through the room without answering.

  “Liam, what do you know about Tate?”

  He studies me before checking the hallway and closing us in the room. “I don’t know what happened. She frigging swan dived over the bloody edge.”

  I fall into one of the leather chairs, puzzled. “It doesn’t make sense. What happened when I left?” My volume increases. “Tate was fine when I left her!” I accuse.

  “She was fine. Until you left.” He looks down and shakes his head. “It’s like she knew you weren’t coming back. As soon as you were gone, she went psycho on her room. Her dad restrained her, but when he let her go, she bolted. She knocked Fischer over on her way out. Her parents tried to catch her. Dude, she’s really fast!”

  “She was a sprinter in track,” I say dryly.

  “Well, I imagine she did quite well.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I murmur in frustration. What have I done? First Ryder and now Tate. I’m a failure all around.

  Liam stops pacing and shuts off his calimeter a second after I silence mine. “Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “We’ll go to my room. She’ll have to displace back there.”

  “No. That’s your room now.”

  “Then where?”

  “Programming,” he says.

  Why can’t anything around here be easy? “OK, how do we get there?”

  He gapes at me before making a gagging noise that I can only assume is a laugh. “You’re kidding?”

  I stare equably back at him. “We need to catch her when she returns, don’t we?”

  “Are you mad? We can’t go to Programming!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we can’t!”

  “Well, that sounds like an excellent reason. You need your tocket back, right? Come on.”

  He follows behind me, mumbling, “You’ve lost your marbles. We don’t even know how to get there.”

  “Just come on.”

  Glad to put my focus somewhere other than on Tate, I lead the way down the long hall until we are in the lobby and then peer into Benson’s corridor. I pull Liam around the corner of another hall and signal him to be quiet.

  Henry walks out of Benson, smoothing his shirt cuffs. When he’s halfway through the lobby we follow, with me pushing Liam along with persuasive looks. Henry turns left by the courtyard doors, and we keep a silent pace behind him. When the maze of never-ending hallways opens into a larger room, Liam and I peek around the corner like kids.

  Henry walks past the seating area and twists one of the candlesticks to the right. He steps around the now recessed wall and the decorative wood panel closes behind him.

  “Let’s go back. We’re going to get into serious trouble,” Liam whispers.

  “No way. Besides, we’d never find our way out,” I note, walking into the room.

  Liam is not a happy camper. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “You can wait here if you want.” I turn the candlestick Henry just used.

  Liam looks around the room like he’s considering. Then he huffs and follows me in, murmuring “bloody hell” along the way. The wood panel bangs closed behind us. Three hallways branch off the metallic, ceilingless room.

  “How are we going to get out of here?” Liam whines.

  I shrug a shoulder and play “eenie, meenie, miney, moe” like Fischer would. The hall to the left wins.

  When a guy walks by us, I clear my throat to warn Liam to play it cool.

  “Yo,” the guy says. After he passes, Liam blows out air.

  “Relax, man.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy breaking the rules.”

  “I don’t remember any rule about this.”

  He groans and hurries to keep pace with me.

  At the end of the hall, I spin around and push Liam back. When I mouth the word Jonathan, his eyes nearly pop out of his face and I don’t doubt he could use a change of boxers.

  I hear a woman’s voice speak first. It’s Wynn from training. “If she stays, then we must delay the process. It has been written that the decision for the seventh will be announced today.”

  “Her experience will be a great asset. I feel it is worth the risk,” Jonathan says cryptically.

  “But the course of the next Elite will…”

  Their voices fade, and I motion Liam down the opposite way.

  “This is crazy,” he hisses.

  I ignore him and turn again, following the growing voices. A few people pass us, but no one seems suspicious.

  In a circular room laid out like the stone well that took me through Ryder’s past (but actually welcoming, with more drywall and less rust), Henry disappears into one of the doors. The girls on the sofa are too engrossed in a magazine to even notice us.

  A voice behind us makes Liam jump out of his clothes. “You guys look like you’re lost.”

  “Jordan, you’re going to give poor Liam a heart attack,” I say coolly, after Liam peels himself off the ceiling.

  “What are you doing here? You could get in some major heat if someone sees you.”

  “Looking for Willow,” I answer.

  Jordan studies us. “Come on.”

  We follow Jordan down a hall that looks like all the others and opens to another round room. He steps around two guys wearing Virtual Reality-looking headgear before taking us through one of the ten ornate doors.

  Jordan walks across the tan room and move a notebook from the futon to the coffee table to sit. “How’d you get here?”

  “We followed Henry. We could use your help,” I explain.

  He looks impressed. “What’s up?”

  I stare up at the cloudless blue sky and collect my thoughts before vomiting the entire story—everything. When I’m finished, Liam lies and says Tate’s breakdown wasn’t my fault. He then adds a few choice words about Willow.

  Jordan already knew the Rebellion part, of course. Keeping secrets around here is a joke. “What do you need from me?”

  “We need to catch Willow when she gets back. Any idea where she displaces?” I ask.

&
nbsp; “Sure, to her room. You’re in luck. It’s just across the hall.”

  Liam scopes a J-shaped chair in the corner and relaxes a little. “Dude, I didn’t know you were a gamer.” About time the guy loosened his panties up.

  “Totally. You?” Jordan asks.

  “Uh, yeah! I’m addicted to Squad Seven.”

  “Have you figured out mission four?”

  Aggravated, I clear my throat.

  “Apparently Grant’s never played before,” Jordan says to Liam, directing us out. We cross the circular room, and he opens a seemingly random door. How he can tell all these identical doors apart is beyond me.

  “You all right, mate?” Liam asks after we enter Willow’s room.

  I stop laughing, but my head still shakes when I fall into a dreadful, putrid-orange sofa. It’s as comfortable as mine. Figures.

  “I gotta go. You should be uninterrupted until Willow gets back,” Jordan says.

  Liam reverts back to freak out mode. “You’re not going to mention this to anyone, are you?”

  Jordan shakes his head. “It’s cool.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Jordan closes the door behind him. Liam moves Willow’s guitar and stretches across the faded rug in its place.

  I rub my thighs and try not to think of Tate. “Should we take bets on when she’ll return?” I ask, mindlessly watching the birds dart across the clear sky.

  Liam stops juggling a red bouncy ball and looks at his calimeter. “My guess is, we’re gonna be here awhile.”

  I sigh, and Liam resumes tossing the ball.

  After twenty minutes, I cross the room and open the cabinet above the sink, helping myself to a mug and some coffee. I doctor it with sugar and return to the sofa.

  Even though I couldn’t care less, I ask Liam, “Any word on who the next Elite will be?” I’ll try anything to keep my anxious thoughts at bay.

  “Uh-uh, but I hope it’s me. If we’re caught and this messes up my chances, I am going to have your neck.”

  I half laugh.

  “You think I’m kidding?”

  “Nope. I believe you.” And I do. He is so not happy with me. “What is it with everyone wanting to be an Elite?”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to be one.”

  “No frigging way.”

  “You’re off your bloody rocker, mate.”

  “Seriously, are your regular assignments not tough enough?” When the words fall from my mouth, the image of Tate in the bathtub burns in my eyes. I squeeze them closed and concentrate on my breathing.

  “Sure, but being an Elite means you’ve arrived, man. There’s nothing—” Liam stops talking and we both jump when the door opens.

  “Here, man. It’s probably going to be a while,” Jordan interrupts, tossing Liam a pair of binoculars.

  “Ace! I totally owe you!” Liam says, like he’s just been given the keys to a Lamborghini.

  “It’s cool. I’ll grab ’em from Willow later.”

  “Want to play?” Liam asks me after Jordan closes the door. I shake my head.

  “Smashing!” He starts strapping the atrocity around his head.

  I look up at the sky and think of anything that will keep me from playing worst-case scenario, starring Tate.

  *******

  “Dance with me,” Tate said, pushing herself up from the bed of my truck. The gravel lot was empty, and we hadn’t loaded our mountain bikes yet after a day of riding on the Katy Trail.

  “You know I can’t dance,” I half joked. “And besides, there’s no music.”

  She pushed the top half of her body through the truck cab’s open back window, and a second later, country music was coming from the speakers. She wrapped my arms around her waist and pushed herself against me.

  “The song’s a little too fast, don’t you think?” I whispered.

  “Just hold on to me.”

  We stood there, barely moving, through the rest of the song and the commercials that followed.

  “I love you.” After the words were out, I regretted them. Not that I didn’t mean them (God, I meant them), but it was too soon. It hadn’t even been three months.

  Tate pulled back, clearly ticked. “Why did you say that?”

  “What?” This was best answer I could come up with.

  “Why did you just say that?” she demanded.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too soon, I know. I shouldn’t have—”

  She placed her finger over my mouth to put me out of my misery. “Did you mean it?”

  “Of course.”

  She studied me and then caught me off guard with a kiss. When she pulled away, I thought, Here it comes, she’s adding “desperate” to the list of reasons she can do better than me.

  Instead, she whispered, “I love you, too.”

  My heart sprinted when she kissed me again. When she pulled back this time, we were both out of breath.

  “You say something, mate?” If he wasn’t already dead, I would kill Liam for interrupting my replay from when life was good. He gauges my expression, shrugs, and pulls the hideous goggles back down.

  I cross the room for a refill while Liam sways and karate chops the air. Suddenly, ice shoots through my veins and my coffee spills onto the counter, black as the hole that engulfs me.

  “Grant! Wake up, you nancy!”

  My eyes blink open to find Liam inches from my face, snapping his fingers. “Good morning, sweetheart. It’s about bloody time!”

  I rub my head. “Huh?”

  “You were out cold, mate.”

  When I sit up, Willow materializes behind Liam. I open my mouth, but Liam cuts me off. “You!” he yells at Willow. “If you ever do that again, I swear I’ll kill you!”

  “Simmer, dude.” Her deflated tone matches her face.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  Her eyes meet mine, and then she looks away. “Oh, jeez.”

  “What happened?” Liam demands.

  “It’s bad. Really, really bad.” Willow’s eyes dart to me for half a second before holding steady on Liam. “She destroyed everything. Everything, Liam.” She rubs at the creases on her forehead. “Even her ring,” she whispers.

  “Her ring?”

  An invisible weight causes Willow’s shoulders to slump even more when she answers Liam. “Her engagement ring.”

  They both turn to me with oversize eyes, like they’re waiting for me to say something. I can’t imagine what they’re expecting. I don’t even know what the hell they’re talking about.

  20. Why couldn’t you have shut up like this months ago?

  From my sofa, I try to tune out Willow and Jonathan’s not-so-quiet argument in the hall. They’ve been at it since Jonathan unhappily lead us out of Programming and back here. Their cryptic conversation hasn’t evolved much in the last hour.

  “But it is important. He needs to know,” Willow’s insisting.

  “No, he doesn’t. This is the natural order of things.”

  “He’s different. You and I both know it.”

  “The transition took a little longer for him, that’s all. Willow, you’re missing the point. This is a good thing. He will no longer have the unnecessary distraction.”

  Willow grumbles something I can’t make out and then yells, “It’s different! His memories weren’t forgotten naturally like ours. She erased them!”

  “Maybe you’re too personally connected with this assignment. It may be best that we bring in someone else—”

  “No!” she interjects. “No one else.”

  Long pause. Please let them be finished.

  “You need to pull it together, for the sake of both parties.”

  “Fine! I’ll handle it,” Willow huffs.

  My head snaps up when the door opens. After gauging her mood, I know better than to even consider opening my mouth.

  Willow stomps to the kitchen and her head disappears behind a cabinet. I join her but put the counter between us, just to be safe. Sh
e slams two mugs down, fills them, and shoves one in my direction. Coffee sloshes onto the black marble but it vanishes a second later.

  “You have no idea how frustrating this is for me,” she states.

  I stare back at her, knowing anything I say can and will be used against me.

  “Dang it, Grant! You’ve gotta remember something about her?”

  I give her my best “I have no idea what you’re talking about” look.

  “Gah! Think about it! Tate. Tate Jacoby. She was your fiancée—your soul mate, for crying out loud!”

  I smile placidly. “Please tell me you don’t believe in that crap.”

  Whoops. Now she’s for real pissed. “Who are you?!”

  “I think you need to get your head checked,” I suggest.

  Her volume raises. “My head is fine! It’s yours that’s jacked. Come on, kid; it’s Tate we’re talking about here. Tate whom you broke almost every rule for. Tate whom you couldn’t stop connecting with. You’ve got to remember something!”

  I’m seriously questioning her sanity. “Sorry. Can you calm down long enough to tell me why we were all in Programming?”

  “You’re impossible!” she growls and storms out the door.

  I shake my head. In the words of Liam: “She’s gone bloody mad.” I drum my fingers on the counter and check my calimeter. Almost break. Finally.

  I grab a table for the others when I get to Benson. The room seems even larger when it’s quiet and empty. My thumbs race around each other while I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Mental sigh. It’s going to be a long week waiting to start my next assignment.

  Finally, the masses come. “Oh, Grant,” Clara says to me, like I’m a sick cat or something.

  Not her, too. “Yeah?”

  From across the table, she trails off. “I, uh…”

  “Oh my gosh, are you all right?” Anna almost pushes my chair over when she throws herself on me.

  I peel her arms off my neck and catch Owen’s stare. My eyes dart to the others, who give me similar cautious looks. “What?” I demand.

  Rigby holds his toothpick in front of his gaping mouth. “What’s up with you, man?”

  “Nothing. What’s with you guys?”