LOS ANGELES LEVEL 7—SATURDAY, JULY 8, 2141 10:41 A.M.
While I slept, the city went crazy. Kadokawa brought in troops, taking control away from IBC. There was still fighting just south of San Francisco as IBC was trying to hold on, and a few of SoCal’s military bases remained under siege. The President of the United States complained, calling it an act of war. No one listened to him. Especially when a few of the independent cities offered to help Kadokawa, including Denver and Minneapolis, and sent people and supplies.
It was a difficult declaration to make stick when Kadokawa stopped most of the looting and chaos and started working with the insurgent cells to supplement the food lines, even adding new locations to help bring sustenance to the people of San Angeles. Canada had created a route for medical supplies and more food, supplementing Kadokawa’s work. All communication barriers had been dropped.
Kadokawa had set up checkpoints at any access between all the levels, keeping people from flowing upward and creating more havoc. They promised that within the next few days, they would begin opening access up again. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but in the short term, things seemed to have settled down a bit.
When asked, the man in charge simply said it was what Kadokawa did. I had always thought the corporations were all alike, but now I was wondering if it was because my view had been limited. The man, someone by the name of Andrew Ito, had more to say.
It had been Kadokawa that was fighting with SoCal, but apparently there had been some recent shake-ups in the organization, and they were now being run by a woman. One of the original Kadokawa line. The first thing she had done was replace the military leadership, supposedly to bring it more in line with how Kadokawa used to be. I didn’t pay too much attention.
All I knew was that, even while fighting their own internal problems, they had come to San Angeles and SoCal 2 to help.
Bryson took off before I woke up, heading to the shuttle port to register his name, hoping Ailsa had done the same. It would take a few days for the volunteers to sort through everything, find out who had died on the Sat Cities and who had lived. It would take longer than that to bring families back together.
I had breakfast with Pat and Kai. Both of them were still mad at me for taking off, for being on SoCal 2 when it had all fallen to pieces. I think they were too relieved to show it much though. Instead, we talked about the changes that were taking place, whether Kadokawa was setting itself up to keep control of the city, or whether they were actually telling the truth. I voted for the former, but Kai disagreed. He’d seen some of the good Kadokawa had done in the past. I wasn’t holding my breath.
The weight of everything that had happened since Ian died bore down on me, bringing me back to the reality that was my life. I wanted time to be alone, time to think of what I had done in the last day. I borrowed Doc’s car and went down to Level 5, back to the greenhouses. Soldiers stopped everyone going down, checking their IDs—driver’s licenses mainly, not the SoCal trackers—and issuing return passes to let us back up. It felt good to be somewhat anonymous.
I didn’t head straight for the greenhouses, taking a small detour instead, heading back to the drugstore I’d stolen from a few short weeks ago. I’m not sure they believed me when I told them why I was there, but they took my money anyway. It was a short drive to the greenhouses after that.
The Kadokawa logo on the shinrin-yoku sign caught my eye as I walked past it, and I couldn’t help wondering how common it would become in San Angeles, how ingrained Kadokawa would be.
Entering the greenhouse was like walking into a sanctuary. The sounds of the city muted and the rich smell of soil and green life filled the air. The place seemed empty. I couldn’t even find a worker picking up fallen leaves or patching a spot of bare soil. Everyone was at home or at the food kitchens, waiting out the changes as best they could. Hoping for the best.
I didn’t take my shoes off this time. I went straight to the tree and sat by the scarred trunk, the tiny carved heart still healing. I didn’t talk either. I relaxed, enjoying the silence and the solemnness of the trees. Letting it wash through me.
How I wished Ian could see me now. I had family again. Real family. Not that Pat and Kai weren’t, but somehow Auntie was different. She was my dad’s sister, and that changed everything. It made me think how important the ties of family were. How important keeping the connections alive would be.
I didn’t want to end up like Doc Searls, wishing things had been different. He and Bryson had a chance to heal—to reconnect. If Ailsa made it off of SoCal 2, maybe a chance for grandchildren. It felt good to look toward the future with hope.
With no SoCal and no Meridian following me—trying to kill me—anymore, I didn’t need or want the name ACE had given me. In the back of my brain, I’d always associated Merrill with being a fugitive. I wanted the name I was born with, and I wanted my son to carry that name forward. I hoped Ian would understand.
I was Kris Ballard, daughter of Henry and Mei Ballard. My son would be a Ballard as well. Ian Henry Ballard. It had a nice ring to it.
A young child squealed, waking me up from a dreamless sleep. I watched as he ran through the trees, falling and laughing and getting back up. His parents followed close behind, giving me an apologetic smile as they passed. I rested my folded hands on my tummy and smiled back.
Things were changing. Whether they would stay that way or fall back into their old habits was impossible to say. But right now, here, I was happy.
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The Rebel Page 32