by Tarah Benner
“Is Owen a warm and fuzzy teddy bear who’s super polite and always shares his feelings?”
I snort. “No. He’s like Eli, except he’s a total asshole. He doesn’t trust anyone. And he hates me. Sometimes I think he might do the right thing, but as far as he’s concerned, the compounds have to be destroyed.”
“The asshole thing must run in the family,” Caleb mutters.
“Don’t think we won’t cut you out of this conversation,” Sawyer snaps.
Caleb looks chastened, but I swear I see a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. And when Sawyer turns back to me, she’s definitely fighting a grin.
The shower stops running, and we exchange a meaningful look. A minute later, Eli comes out shirtless, drying his hair with a towel.
I try not to stare at his chiseled abs and chest too long, and Sawyer is blushing hard. Caleb looks annoyed.
We fall into a strained silence and wait for the hours to pass.
I wish Eli would let Sawyer take his temperature, but he’s wearing an expression meant to fend off anyone who might come near him.
Around noon, I hear some commotion in the hallway and a nurse’s bright voice yelling something down the tunnel. Then the door flies open, and a doctor I don’t recognize comes in wearing a hazmat suit.
“How are we all feeling today?” he asks, glancing around at us through the blue wall of his interface projection.
“Fine,” we all chorus.
“Well, that’s a very good sign.”
“We don’t have a fever,” Sawyer says, gesturing between us.
“I know. The vital signs our monitors picked up all look great. Do you have any other symptoms? Vomiting? Trouble breathing? Hallucinations?”
We all shake our heads.
“Well, that’s enough to convince me that we’re not dealing with a virus.”
I breathe an enormous sigh of relief, and Sawyer and Caleb look at each other as though they might start making out any second. Something is definitely going on between those two.
The only person who doesn’t seem overjoyed is Eli.
“So we can go?” he asks.
“Yes. Whenever you’re ready.”
Eli nods. Without another word, he pulls on his T-shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He glances at me once with an unreadable expression and then strides out of the room.
My heart sinks, and Sawyer throws me a sympathetic look.
I force a weak smile and turn to go, too, walking slowly to keep a little distance between myself and Eli.
I could still make it to training this afternoon, but instead of heading down to Recon, I punch the button for Systems to check on Celdon.
After being stuck in a room with Sawyer, Caleb, and Eli for two days, I’d really like to see a different friendly face.
As soon as I step off the megalift, the other lift beside it dings. I glance behind me to see who it is and almost throw up.
Celdon is standing in the lift, but he doesn’t look like Celdon. A deep bluish-yellow bruise spans the entire left side of his face. His eye is swollen beyond recognition, and he’s got a busted purplish lip. His blazer is ripped in several places and caked with a dark substance that looks like dried blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” I shriek, rushing up to him as he steps gingerly out of the lift.
He isn’t holding his ribs, but he moves with such precise, robotic movements that I know he must have injuries I can’t see.
“Can’t talk about it,” he groans. He limps past me down the tunnel toward his compartment and keys in. The sight of the place is astounding.
Trash and empty food containers cover nearly every surface, with the piles growing more dense in the three-foot radius around Celdon’s desk. There’s a pungent odor of rotten food mixed with sweat, and I’d bet Celdon hasn’t cracked open the curtains in days.
But that’s not the worst of it. Shards of broken glass sparkle like diamonds in the carpet, starting near the skeleton of his coffee table and exploding out from there. The white carpet is also caked with dried blood.
“Tell me what happened,” I demand.
“I can’t.”
“Did Constance do this to you? Did they hurt you to get to me? Is this because we went to 119?”
Celdon sighs, and it looks as though the movement pains him. “No. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” I ask, feeling frustrated. Clearly Celdon is in trouble, but I don’t know if it’s the sort of trouble that comes from Neverland or from up above.
“It’s just safer if you don’t know.”
I open my mouth to argue some more, but the stiff set of Celdon’s jaw and the determined flash of his eyes says I’m not going to get anywhere today.
He drags in a deep breath, trying to hide his wince. “Listen. There’s something unrelated to all of this that you need to see.”
Before I can ask what it is, he crunches through the shards of broken glass and crosses to his desk. I stare at him, utterly perplexed, as he punches in his password and pulls up a dozen video feeds on three gorgeous ultrathin monitors. Then he opens an old file and swivels around in his chair to watch my reaction.
On screen, I see three men approaching the building where the camera is mounted. Two are walking casually as if they own the block, but the third seems nervous. He’s wearing sunglasses and looks as though he doesn’t want to be seen. His gaze darts along the street, traveling upward until he locks eyes with the camera.
He turns to say something to someone standing out of sight, lifting his sunglasses so the stranger can see his face.
Owen.
“This footage is from three days ago . . . after you and Eli returned from the Fringe.”
A heavy, all-consuming dread settles in the pit of my stomach. Eli told Jayden that Owen was dead — even brought her Owen’s hat as evidence — yet here’s a clear shot of him.
Worst of all, Owen showed his entire face, and it’s like seeing Eli’s twin.
“I have to warn Eli,” I croak, backing out of the room. “Thanks for showing me.”
“Yeah.”
Celdon moves as though he wants to follow me, but then something dark flashes over his face, and he stops himself.
I don’t know what Celdon’s gotten himself into this time, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now. Clearly he doesn’t want my help — at least not at the moment — and Eli and I are in immediate danger.
Jayden must have seen the footage by now. Even with so many feeds to watch, if Celdon spotted Owen, one of Constance’s surveillance guys must have recognized him from the telltale scar on his arm.
There’s a small crowd of people clustered around the megalift, so I head for the emergency stairwell and take the steps two at a time. I pass a controller and two Health and Rehab workers making out in a corner, but none of them pay me any attention as I fly down the stairs toward Recon.
By the time I reach the lower levels, I’m panting and breaking a sweat. I fling myself against the door and fly out into the tunnel, where a sea of gray-clad people are pushing their way toward the training center and Recon offices.
Cutting across the crowd, I head for the officers’ tunnel and bang on Eli’s door. He doesn’t answer.
I forgot to claim my interface from Health and Rehab, so I have no way to message him. It’s possible he’s ignoring me, or he might have decided to catch afternoon training. I quicken my pace and head for the training center, hoping he’ll at least listen to what I have to say.
It’s past thirteen hundred by the time I get there, but the cadets and privates aren’t split into their squads the way they should be. They’re scattered across the training center in tight little clusters.
People are flitting from group to group, finding their friends and speaking in anxious voices. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but their expressions tell me something big must have hap
pened.
A few lieutenants are trying to restore order, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. They look just as unsettled.
The place is mass chaos, and the hubbub echoes loudly off the cinder-block walls. I catch the flash of a few interfaces. They all seem to be tuned in to the same news feed, but I can’t read the headline in reverse.
I scan the crowd for Lenny’s red hair before remembering she’s probably still recovering in the medical ward. Luckily, Bear is easy to see over the crowd, and I widen my search around him for Eli.
Finally I spot him. He isn’t barking orders at our squad or pulling on his irritated lieutenant face. He’s walking toward me with purpose.
As soon as I see him, I know something is wrong. He looks much too pale, and his blue eyes are flashing with panic.
I push my way through a knot of gossiping cadets to reach him, and he doesn’t pay them any attention as he grabs my shoulders and pulls me close. I can feel his body heat in the small space between us, and his grip on my arms tightens.
I open my mouth to blurt out what Celdon discovered, but it’s Eli who speaks first.
“We have a problem.”
twenty-nine
Harper
My brain is working in fits and starts as Eli’s words sink in.
“Wh-what’s going on?”
He glances around at the people on either side of us and pulls me closer.
“It’s all over the news,” he murmurs, eyeing the blue glow of interfaces lighting up the crowd. “Two of the AWOL Recon operatives just returned to the compound.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Well . . . where are they? Where have they been?”
“They’re still being debriefed,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure how this even got out. Someone in Health and Rehab must have leaked it to Information.”
“Did you know either of them?”
He shakes his head. “Not very well. They were both privates, but they weren’t even deployed together — that’s what’s so weird. Well, that and the fact that they’ve been missing for the past two months.”
“How is it that they’re back now?” I whisper. “Where have they been this whole time?”
Then it hits me.
“You don’t think . . .” I shake my head, too horrified by my own best guess to voice it aloud.
Eli’s been watching me carefully, and as soon as the possibility takes shape, my expression seems to confirm his worst fears. “Yeah, I do.”
“They’re carrying the virus,” I whisper. “That’s what Owen meant when he said the plan was already in motion. They’ve been with the drifters the entire time.”
Eli nods, and dread washes over me.
“We have to warn someone!”
He drags a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.”
“We have another problem, too,” I say, suddenly remembering why I came to find Eli in the first place. “I just saw Celdon. He’s been monitoring the feeds, and . . . Owen made an appearance after you told Jayden we killed him. He got caught on camera three days ago.”
“Three days ago?” Eli’s face tightens. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes. The cameras got a perfect shot. You’d have to be blind not to see that you two are related.”
“Something isn’t right,” he mutters. “Jayden should have seen that footage by now, but she hasn’t shown up to confront me about it.”
“Have you been back to your compartment?”
“No. I came straight here.”
“Maybe she’s been busy . . .”
Eli shakes his head. His eyes dart around the training center as though he expects Constance to leap out and tackle us at any second. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
For once, I don’t argue. I don’t ask questions.
Eli reaches for my hand — completely oblivious to the hundreds of people standing around — and pulls me through the crowd.
It’s slow going. People are standing in tight clusters talking about the AWOL operatives, and many are so engrossed in their interfaces that they don’t notice us trying to push past them.
Finally, we break through the congestion and make a beeline for the exit. We’ve almost reached the door when Eli freezes.
Jayden is standing in the doorway, flanked by two controllers. She spots me and Eli right away, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“You two look like you’re in a hurry,” she says, glancing down at our interlaced fingers and back up to Eli’s face.
“Harper’s not feeling well,” he says through gritted teeth.
“That’s too bad,” croons Jayden. Her eyes don’t leave Eli’s for a second.
“Can we go?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Jayden jerks her head, and the controllers on either side of her start to encroach on us.
When they move, I see Warner Cunningham, Secretary of Security, standing next to Jayden. He’s an imposing man with closely cropped brown hair, a hard jawline, and wolflike eyes. He’s wearing one of the board’s signature taupe suits, but he’s got the Control insignia emblazoned on his breast pocket.
He takes a step forward and addresses me directly. “Harper Riley, you’re under arrest for refusing orders, lying to your commanding officer, colluding with drifters, and smuggling illegal contraband into the compound with the intent to sell.”
Before I can even move, I feel one of the controller’s fat, sweaty hands on my wrist and the sharp slap of cold metal as he cuffs me.
Jayden is watching with an amused expression, and it takes me several seconds to form a response.
“What?” I splutter, trying to keep my other arm out of the controller’s reach.
I don’t plan on going quietly — even if that is a pretty accurate description of my crimes.
The secretary keeps speaking in that monotone voice of his. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in trial before the board.
“You have the right to representation. You may select your own representation or use the counsel Recon provides. You’ll be taken to Control to be questioned and await sentencing.”
Suddenly, Eli seems to unfreeze from his moment of shock. “What the hell is this?” he growls, stepping forward to shove the controller away from me.
“Parker, I would think very carefully about what you do next,” says Jayden. “You are already in serious trouble.”
“For what?” He sounds much more surprised than he should, given everything we’ve done.
Jayden turns to the secretary. “Well?”
Cunningham’s upper lip twitches in irritation, but he nods.
“Eli Parker, you’re under arrest for high treason.”
The second controller moves forward to restrain Eli, and this time he’s too shocked to resist.
“What?” I yell, straining at the handcuffs and causing my controller to jerk forward. The metal digs into my wrists, but I keep lashing out at Jayden. Certainly Eli and I have committed our fair share of crimes, but treason is the most serious charge that can be laid against a compound citizen.
Jayden glances at me with a look one might give a misbehaving child and takes two steps closer to Eli. Her voice is low and deadly, but I’m close enough to hear.
“I must admit, it took me a while to figure it all out. It wasn’t until I paid a visit to your compartment that I put the pieces together.”
Cunningham is standing too far back to see, but out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jayden reach into her breast pocket and withdraw a tiny piece of wrinkled paper.
When she unfolds it, I can just make out the image of a much-younger Eli smiling shyly for the camera.
When Jayden speaks next, her whisper is barely discernible. “Oh the things we’ll do for family.”
Eli growls and jerks forward, nearly throwing his controller off balance. “This is bullshit! You had no right to go through my stuff.”
By now we’ve attrac
ted quite a lot of attention. People around us are watching the proceedings as though it’s a drama staged purely for their entertainment. Bear, Blaze, and Kindra have pushed their way through the crowd, but several other controllers have materialized to hold back the spectators.
“I can do whatever I want,” breathes Jayden. “Besides . . . we had to search your compartment to ensure you weren’t hoarding any contraband that could be contaminated with a virus.”
Eli throws me a confused look, and my stomach drops to my knees.
“You have the right to remain silent,” the secretary repeats.
“He didn’t do anything wrong!” I cry.
“Harper, don’t.”
“You have the right to representation.”
“I was just coming to warn you,” he growls at Jayden. “The AWOL operatives . . . they’re the ones carrying the virus.”
I don’t know who he thinks will listen to us at this point, but I feel his desperation mixing with my own panic, compounding the severity of the situation.
“You’ll be taken to Control to be questioned and await sentencing.”
Suddenly, the controller yanks my arms back and shoves me in the spine. My shoulders strain at the pressure, and I have to take two steps forward to keep him from yanking my arms out of their sockets.
“Eli!” I yell. I don’t know what I plan to say or do, but I’m overcome with the horrible feeling that we’re about to be separated for good.
My charges are enough to land me in the cages for years, but high treason is punishable by death.
I jerk my head around to look at him, and our eyes meet over my controller’s shoulder.
“Say whatever you need to say,” he says desperately, straining at his cuffs. “I’ll be all right. Just get yourself cleared — whatever it takes.”
I feel the tears forming a lump in my throat, but I can’t resist as the controller pushes me forward. I stumble down the tunnel, trying to stay tough for Eli and all the onlookers wondering whether or not we really were trying to bring down the compound.
I keep glancing over my shoulder to make sure Eli and his controller are still behind us, and every time I look, my controller bends my arms back harder until my shoulders are screaming in protest.