Blake’s sound asleep when I enter his room and slip into bed next to him given it’s well into the morning. It takes a while to rouse him. When traditional methods don’t work, I kiss his eyes, ears and nose and rub his chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “I haven’t…” I peck him on the mouth to shut him up. He doesn’t need to tell me that he hasn’t changed his mind. I know that, but feel strongly that I need to tell him about the city heads’ meeting and this is the only way I can think to do it discreetly. After all, Brad thinks I’m spending all night, every night and day trying to Cleave with Blake…
“Play along,” I whisper. “I need to tell you something important.” He kisses me back, but I can tell there’s little feeling to it.
“What? Be quick. I need my sleep,” he says.
“Every city head is coming to Garden City for a meeting,” I say, kissing him along the neck.
“I know that,” he says. “Why do you think I’m trying to get sleep? My father and the Militants attack tomorrow night.”
“Why tomorrow?” I say. “The meeting is next Monnight and Tuesnight. Monnight’s meeting is for city heads only and then a bunch of Daynighters who work as government officials on Earth show up on Tuesnight.”
“You’re positive?” he says.
“Brad Darcton told me,” I say, leaving the part out about the city models. It takes four guys with proper access to open the walls, so the Militants have zero hope of ever getting in there.
“Ted set us up,” Blake says. “I had a bad feeling, but my dad wouldn’t believe that Ted had turned.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just thought it was important that you knew. If Brad finds out I told you, it won’t be good for either of us.” I want to tell him everything, but know Blake would end up dead if I did. He’ll be at huge risk come tomorrow when the Militants show. I’ll only be able to bargain with Brad Darcton if I’ve kept the bulk of the truth from Blake.
We kiss for a short while longer, but it feels more forced than my kisses with Ethan on Earth. Pure drudgery, because Blake’s not responding at all. Now I know what Ethan meant when he compared me to a steel post. I find myself thinking about Ethan the whole time and wondering what plans he had to keep us from talking. Or if he lied to avoid spending more time with me given how much I’ve hurt him. The whole time we were home, he wasn’t faking it. When he told my father he wanted to marry me, he probably meant it. He wants to have kids together and grow old with me. Thinking about another guy, even if I’m not imagining him in an inappropriate way, makes it difficult to keep kissing Blake.
It’s not that I don’t still care for Blake. My feelings for him are strong, but all the fighting with no compromise has left me feeling depleted. Completely void of emotion. I feel like I’ve been beating my head against a battery of knives and they’ve carved the life right out of me. I’m more of a zombie than my Second Chancer friends.
“You should go,” Blake finally says. “Thanks for trying again, but I’m still not ready for that kind of commitment.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “You’ve made that really clear.”
I turn and leave to go sulk in my room. That’s what they’ll expect. This morning, I’ll have to fake it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Blake
I rise mid-afternoon, unable to sleep. Kira’s revelation about the true date of the city heads’ meeting deeply disturbs me. Although I warned my father that Ted might be setting them up, I still feel as if I’ve failed the Exilers. I wasn’t able to persuade my father not to attack and gave him the wrong information about the date of the city heads’ meeting. Ted’s a traitor and has assuredly informed the Ten of the impending attack. They’ll be ready and waiting. The only things going for the Militants will be their city uniforms and three-hour head start. They better use this small advantage well. I do think Ted will disable the Eco barrier at the appointed time believing he’s luring the Militants into the Ten’s trap. There’s still a chance my father can get out safely.
After a quick shower I get dressed in a Headquarters uniform Ted brought to me. It would draw too much attention to wear my school uniform in the city during class hours. I eat a hearty breakfast before collecting food, sunscreen, extra clothes, flashlight, duct tape, and other necessities, the necessities being absolutely anything I could use to help capture SCI officials or protect myself if needed. Knives. Rope. Bag of flour—it can be used to create a lame and very temporary smokescreen. Sleeping pills and pain pills that I’ve ground into powder—easier to slip into a drink or food. Perfume that Kira doesn’t use—it should blind someone if sprayed in the eyes. If not, it’ll surely make them gag. I have to be prepared to leave with the Militants or fly under the radar for a while, in or out of the city, and defend myself if attacked. The loot blankets our dining table as I try to figure out how to efficiently pack it all in a small pack designed to cart my tablet computer.
“Going somewhere?” I hear from behind. Crap. Figures this would be the one time she’d wake up early. I’ve done my best to avoid Kira since I made my choice. But this morning when she crawled into bed with me and gave me a heads up about the real city heads’ meeting date, it took every ounce of energy to treat her like an inanimate object. I thought about bad-tasting foods, negative experiences, and eons of SCI control to keep from mauling her.
It’s best Kira think I’m a heartless prick who chose my father’s cause over a life with her. Actually that’s exactly what I am and I did make that choice. Not because I don’t have feelings for her. I owe the Exilers too much to let them down—and although I’d have preferred that my dad and Doc Daryn agree on a strategy that would keep the peace and grant freedom to both the Exilers and Second Chancers, I realize that my father will never compromise. So, I’ll do what I can to help overthrow the SCI today, even if it means sacrificing my deal with Kira or my own life.
I make the mistake of looking at her. She’s got her arms crossed, a foul look on her face and distrust streaming from her eyes. It’s kind of hot. “Good evening—or I guess it’s still afternoon,” I say. “I’m just getting ready for my night.” She circles the table, perusing my stash, running her fingers across it all.
“Need any help?” she says, stopping in front of me and looking directly into my eyes.
“Nope. Thanks for offering, but I’m good,” I say, averting her gaze. I start to stuff everything into my pack, trying to remember my preferred order despite the current distraction in a daygown.
“You sure?” she asks. I shake my head to indicate I am. “OK, well, let me know if you change your mind.” I’m tempted to stay here, spend the night with Kira, and let whatever’s going to happen happen. If I leave and join the fight—or even just observe—there’s the possibility I’ll never see her again. The taste of blood brings me out of my trance and I can feel sharp pain. In my attempt to block out my desire for Kira I bit the inside of my cheek so hard it’ll be difficult to eat for a week. That’ll stretch my meager supply further if I’m forced to switch to an Exiler’s diet.
Should I say goodbye to Kira? She disappeared back into her bedroom, likely to take a shower and get ready for the night. If I walk in and find her in anything less than that daygown I wouldn’t be able to resist. It would be best to avoid a teary, dramatic farewell. I hope that it’ll end up being unnecessary. The Militants need to prevail tonight so I can return home in the morning and celebrate with Kira. Assuming she will forgive me and take me back.
I leave my watch by my desk where I’m supposed to be starting lessons for the night. Then I quietly slip out the front door. It’s still light out but the sun’s quickly fading behind the canyon hills to the East. The air is hot and sticky and it smells like a campground, which concerns me a little. Fire of any kind is strictly forbidden within the city. I worry the citizens may panic. They’re already on edge about a potential Exiler attack thanks to Brad Darcton.
I dart into the entrance to the train and am happy to se
e it empty, but running. Minutes later I’m at the city center. The sun disappeared while I was aboard the train. The booths and stage have been dismantled so I have a clear view of the vibrant lights of the Headquarters building. All looks quiet, so I take a seat on a bench next to a city worker and pretend to peruse my tablet for evening news as he is doing. The smell of fire’s stronger here. Could it be a diversion of some sort?
I’m thankful that the lighting is better in the plaza than elsewhere in the city. The street lamps give a hundred feet of visibility or more. Out of the corner of my eye I see small groups of men in city uniforms on the offshoot street where city officials reside. That’s where I came out of the tunnels the night I’d infiltrated headquarters to get Ted’s bogus planted information. They’re at a considerable distance, but a couple of them look familiar. Although I don’t have my watch on, I know what time I left the house. The Exilers planned their arrival to shortly precede the normal worknight at HQ, so if I’m right and it’s my father’s men, they are early.
“Not again. This is Mandy’s tablet,” I say out loud. The man next to me gives me an odd look. “I grabbed my Cleave’s tablet by accident. It’s the third time this month I’ve done that! Here I thought I was so early and now I risk being late.” He chuckles as I get up to leave, giving him the impression I’m off to rectify my stupid mistake. I head towards the residential area to get a closer look and confirm the men are Militants.
It doesn’t take me long to find my father. As promised he and his henchmen are in city attire, although their equipment implies they are part of a fire safety crew.
“I need to talk to you. It’s important,” I say.
“Take this,” my father says. He hands me a toolbox. “Don’t say a word. I mean it. Now’s not the time. Just follow.” I nod and follow him to the front door of the next house. A woman answers.
“We are so sorry to alarm you, ma’am. Is your Cleave home? As you can tell from the odor in the air, there’s something burning in the city and we’ve been dispatched to find the source,” my father says. She calls to her Cleave who arrives promptly at the door. Medium build. Receding hairline. Cold brown eyes. He’s wearing that telltale symbol that all members of the Ten wear—a silver pin carved with a circle representing the Circle of Compliance and a small number ten in the center of the circle.
“How can I help you gentlemen?” he asks.
My father and his colleague don’t bother to answer. My father puts a bullet through both the man and his Cleave’s brains. I gasp in horror at the sight of my father executing two human beings. The man may have been a member of the Ten, but what about his Cleave? My father pushes me back and closes their front door.
“Go home, Blake,” my father says. “We’ve got this.”
“Dad, the meeting isn’t tonight. Ted set us up. It’s next Monnight and Tuesnight,” I say, words stumbling from my mouth.
“I see,” my father says. “No matter. We’ve hit six of the Ten so far and numerous members of the Grand Council. Garden City’s government will be crippled. Now go.” I back away from the group who has already made their way to the next door, wanting no part of their mass executions. At no point during my father’s planning sessions do I remember him discussing killing and not simply capturing city officials.
I slowly walk back towards the square as my father’s men finish out the rest of the street. Masses have gathered to report for work at HQ and are making their way through security and into the building. Pretending to be one of them, I join the line and get out my HQ passkey to prepare to enter. My gut says my father and band are headed here next. As I approach the main doors I’m proven right. I see my father to my side. He glares and motions for me to leave but I ignore him. If there’s a way to stop further executions, I’ll figure it out. I’m ashamed to carry my father’s DNA right now.
How could things go so wrong in ten minutes time?
Two hundred plus Militants stormed Headquarters with a vengeance, executing twenty security guards in seconds and surrounding the crowd. The workers screamed and frantically tried to escape. To protect myself, I grabbed an executed guard’s gun and tucked it under my shirt and into my pants.
That’s when I saw her. Kira. She must have followed and slipped in behind me. I froze as I tried to figure out how to keep her out of the clustered crowd and safe. Our eyes locked for a moment and that didn’t go unnoticed by my father. He pounced on her faster than a cat on its prey.
“Well, well, well,” my father said, pulling her beside him. “You must be Kira Donovan. Stick by me and I’ll keep you safe.”
“Let her go, Dad,” I said. “As my partner, she followed me here. But she has nothing to do with any of this.”
“On the contrary. If you reported correctly, Kira is a coveted Original. The SCI has big plans for her and likely wants to keep her alive. That’s about as useful as anyone could be to us,” he said.
“Dad, no. You are not using Kira as your security blanket,” I said. He didn’t reply, but pointed his gun at her head.
“It’s okay, Blake,” Kira said, her gold ringed green eyes showing infinitely more confidence than I have. “Everything will work out. I’m not worried.” She mouthed ‘I love you’ to me. I paused too long, leaving her sentiments unanswered.
“Move. Everyone to the atrium now!” my father said, yanking Kira with him.
So, here I am, watching as the HQ employees are coerced into the atrium where Militants systematically look for Ten or Council pins and begin to terminate wearers accordingly. In the chaos and panic I ditch the crowd. Before I can climb the stairs to watch from above, I run into Brad Darcton. Behind him are hordes of heavily armed security forces.
“This is not my doing,” I say to him. “My father has Kira with a gun to her head. You have to get her out safely. Please.” Brad tilts his head to the side as he weighs his options, one of which I assume would be to eliminate me on the spot.
“How many men?” Brad asks.
“Two hundred or more trained Militants. I didn’t get a good count. It all happened so fast,” I say.
“Is Ethan or my Cleave in the crowd?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “They have everyone in the atrium.”
“I’ll do my best with Kira,” he says. “And you will answer for this later. For now, it would be helpful if you could think of something to divert your father’s attention.”
“Yes, sir,” I say as I start to creep up the stairs.
“Careful,” he says. “You’ll be a tempting target through all that glass,” referring to the glass mosaics that won’t hide my silhouette as I climb the stairs. Chills go down my spine. Despite the risk of being shot at, I creep up the circular staircase until I am safely behind a post and then get down on my stomach. I watch the scene through holes cut in the glass for spotlights to shine through.
Brad makes a grand entrance, parting the crowd as he greets my father by name.
“Hank, my friend. So good to see you,” he says. Two hundred guns track his march to the center of the atrium.
“Brad. Long time no see. I can’t say I missed you,” my father replies.
“Wow. My feelings are so hurt,” Brad replies. “What brings you and your friends to Garden City tonight?”
“I thought a little reorganization of your government was in order,” my father says. “And hell, the revenge is good, too.”
“Let the girl go, Hank, and let’s talk this out like two grown men,” Brad says. He starts to speak again, but a shot is fired by a Militant that hits him squarely in the chest. It sends him catapulting back a few feet, although I don’t see any blood. Body armor.
“Hold off,” my father says to keep more shots from firing. “There’ll be plenty of time for that and I’d like to do the honors.” It takes a minute for Brad to catch his breath and stand back up. In the meantime, while everyone’s busy trying to catch a glimpse of one of the Ten’s fate, Brad’s soldiers have the opportunity to surround the Exilers
and disengage their safeties in unison.
“Checkmate,” Brad says in a more belabored tone. “I believe you are outnumbered, my friend. And I have endless reserves to take their places. It’s time for your men to stand down.” I don’t know where they came from, but Doc Daryn was one hundred percent right. The SCI’s illusion of weakness was the work of a master magician.
“You harm anyone and your precious Original dies, and then you won’t be able to use her for your ridiculous purposes,” my father threatens. Kira is ignoring my father. Her eyes are trained on someone in the crowd. Ethan. If Kira ever questioned his true feelings for her or if I ever doubted that she had feelings for him, both are crystal clear now. He looks ready to sacrifice his own life for her if needed. I watch him inch towards her. She appears to be waiting for his signal to make a move. Fabulous. She’s going to get herself killed.
“Ridiculous purposes? Your son’s alive thanks to those ridiculous purposes. As for Kira, if you want to kill an innocent girl over your futile plans, then go for it. She’s already provided what we needed to preserve the future of Thera,” Brad says, walking forward to meet my father face to face.
“Don’t you dare bring up my son,” my father says, scanning the crowd. Is he looking for me? He looks more scared than I’ve ever seen him.
“Why? You don’t want him to know about his true lineage?” Brad says.
“I am his father,” my father says.
“Perhaps, but your dear Cleave who died in Exile is most certainly not your son’s mother,” Brad says. “I bet you never mentioned that to him.”
What? I stumble a little, but catch myself before going headfirst through the glass. My mom—who I watched die in agony—wasn’t my real mother? He has to be lying. But then I think about the whole Assisted Pregnancy process and it occurs to me that they could be implanting any embryos in the mothers.
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