“She’s doing great. Thanks. She’s about seven months along now, so she’s getting nervous as the day gets closer.”
“How’s she handling your decision to return to Austin?”
“She’s dead set against it,” I admitted. “Said we’d done our part already and barely survived.”
“She’s right. Your defiance, and Goodman’s reaction to it, were the spark that ignited all of this.” He lifted his arms up to indicate the entire city. “Without that, we might have just continued to think it was bullshit that our rights were being systematically stripped away, but that it was for the greater good of our society. They showed their hand too early by murdering that lady for falsely snitching on her neighbors for extra food—for wanting more food for Pete’s sake. Then, when they sentenced you to death and wanted to make a media circus out of it… That’s when we knew that life under the System was going to descend into madness and the government needed to be stopped.”
“Yeah, well, all of that doesn’t matter to Cassandra,” I said. “She’s pissed that I’d leave her in her last two months of pregnancy.”
“Can’t be helped. We need you. Plummer has some slick PR person who thinks you’re the key to getting this Revolution firing on all cylinders.”
I pulled up and laid a hand across Rogan’s chest to stop him. He glanced down at my hand and I hastily jerked it away. I easily outweighed him by fifty pounds or so, but there was a menacing confidence in the Green Beret that exuded from him. I knew he could kick my ass three ways to Sunday if he wanted to.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, referring to his statement.
“The PR person or getting the Revolution going?”
“Both really.”
“The protests are a great first step—I mean second step. Getting the military to take bases and refuse to get in line with the NAR was the first step. We need to advance beyond the protests. The people need to get so fired up that they challenge the government directly. That’s where you come in. Plummer’s PR rep, Angela Anders, wants to put together a quick news story about you and the hardships you’ve faced under the System, then blast that out like we did with the initial Every American broadcast takeover.”
“So, when you said you needed me for the Revolution, you meant that you just needed me for the publicity, not to actually do any fighting?” I was getting pissed off.
Rogan nodded. “It’s a raw deal, man. I get it. But Plummer thinks that’s where you’ll do the most good for the cause. If the average American sees what you went through and that you’re alive today, despite the full might of the federal government searching for you, that may inspire more to fight back and join the Revolution. We’re walking the razor’s edge right now. This whole thing can fall off and go either way. We need you, man. We need you to show the people that you can fight back and survive.”
“Once Goodman knows that I’m in Austin she’ll send in everything they’ve got.”
Rogan shrugged. “That’s kind of what we’re hoping for.”
“What?” Everything was starting to make sense to me now. They wanted a martyr.
“If people see how they react to your presence, it will whip them up into a revolutionary frenzy. It’s a win for everyone.”
“Except me and Cassandra,” I scoffed. “I didn’t come here to be some goddamned martyr, Rogan.”
“You’ll be safe. If you don’t want to be involved, we won’t air the program until you’re safely away from the city. We’ll do the fighting against the CEA—all of it on camera, of course.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, frowning. “I’m not afraid to fight. I just don’t want to be hung out like some sacrificial slab of meat over a cage of tigers.”
“You won’t be. We’re not trying to follow along in the System’s footsteps and fuck over our people.”
I contemplated the conversation as we began walking again. I needed a shower and to call Cassandra. “What’s the lowdown on signals intercept?”
“What, for like phone calls and stuff?” Rogan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Anything coming from inside the Autonomous Zone is actively monitored. Assume anything coming from within the city limits is probably being passively monitored for keywords and such. Outside the city? That might be okay.”
“Why did you set up an autonomous zone then? Doesn’t that defeat the idea that the Revolution is, like, everywhere?”
“In a way, yeah. Like I said, we didn’t set it up. It sort of sprang up out of nowhere.”
I thought back to Seattle a few years ago. “It’s not gonna end well,” I said. “You’re telling them where you are.”
“That’s why it’s key that we get you in front of the camera as soon as possible.”
“This PR person as good as she thinks she is?”
“I don’t know, man. She worked at the Longhorn Network before all of this went down, so she’s got some real production work under her belt.”
“Angela Anders… Hmpf. I don’t know her.” I knew a lot of the people from the Longhorn Network from my time on the team. Her name did not ring a bell though.
“Alright,” Rogan said. “Here’s the car. Beth will drive you over to the safehouse we have set up for you.”
A pretty blonde woman winked at me from the driver’s seat. She was maybe twenty-five or thirty. It was hard to tell from the lighting in the garage. “Get in, Big Guy,” she said. “I know where the checkpoints are. I’ll get you home safely.”
I clasped hands with Rogan once again. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said. “Plan on us being there around eight or so. I assume you have a burner phone?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I was going to call Cassandra…”
“Don’t do it from the safehouse. Only call when you’re on the move and don’t use your name. They’ve got passive surveillance scanning hundreds of thousands of calls occurring simultaneously. They’re looking for keywords, so avoid things like saying your name, our names, the Revolution, protests, et cetera. Got it?”
“Yeah, man. We’re good.”
“See you in the morning, brother,” he said, slapping my shoulder hard as I dropped my backpack into the back seat. “Be safe.”
“Will do.”
He turned and walked back toward the garage exit. I watched him for a moment, then sighed and opened the door, sitting down into the car. I had to slide the seat all the way back to accommodate my size, but it was still a tight fit.
By the time I was done adjusting the seat, I felt Beth watching me. I looked over to her and she was staring at me. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Bodhi. That’s my brother, Rowan.” I indicated the back seat where he’d sat.
“I know who you are, Bodhi. You’re a legend. I mean… Wow! I can’t believe I’m sitting in the same car with you and that you’ll be staying at my house. This is too cool.”
“Your house? I thought Rogan said it was a safehouse.”
“It is. But I own it, so it’s my house.”
“Oh… Um, is that gonna be a problem?”
“No way. You’re awesome. I’m excited for you to be staying with me.”
“Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, looking out the window as she drove. “I’ve gotta call my wife once we’re on the move.”
“Okay. Give it about three blocks or so, then we should be clear.” She accelerated into the light traffic.
I nodded and thanked her before sliding the phone out of my pocket and powered it on. I tried to concentrate on reading the texts that had come in since the last time I’d turned it on, but I kept feeling her looking at me. Each time I glanced over, she was grinning. I felt the vibe emanating from her in waves. It was the same attitude that I’d gotten from hundreds of girls at football parties over the years.
Great, I thought. A Revolution groupie. That’s all I need right now.
TWO
Beth’s house was nice. As a former CEA agent, I wo
uld have never expected it to be a safehouse for an anti-government revolutionary organization. The small, yellow house was cheery, with white shutters and trim, bright aqua blue door, waist-high white picket fence, a well-maintained flower garden, and a red brick driveway.
She parked and we followed her inside. The interior was exactly what I imagined it would be from the outside. Bright white walls with an accent wall in several of the rooms and light-colored fabrics and wood tones were the staples. The kitchen was painted a greenish gray color that reminded me of moss for some reason and had white cabinets over a white subway tile backsplash that ran the length of the entire wall. It featured a dark blue refrigerator and stove that sort of balanced out the light colors of the room.
“You’ve certainly got very good taste,” I said. It was entirely too gaudy for my liking, but I’m sure it had been designed according to some style guru’s input.
“Thank you!” Beth exclaimed. “I really love the way everything came together in here.” She waved around the room. “So, um, Rowan, let me show you to your room.”
We followed dutifully behind her, remarking on how nice and incredibly clean her home was along the way. It was all surreal. I’d been living in an RV camper for the last three months with Cassandra in the woods behind my parents’ house and rarely went up there except to eat meals with them every few days. Being in an actual home, especially one so bright and cheery, made me feel as if the Revolution and the impending casualty count were all a bad dream.
“Here you go,” she said, opening a door. “There’s no on-suite, so you’ll have to use the guest bath here in the hallway, but there should be plenty of everything you need. Towels are in the linen closet right here in the hallway.”
I glanced inside. It was a small room, consistent with the rest of the house. It held a twin bed, a dresser that was way too big for the space, and a desk that featured a large monitor and computer peripherals. There was a tall, five-drawer filing cabinet beside it. In all, there was very little floor space left to move around.
It would be plenty for Rowan since I didn’t know how long we’d be in town. If they were going to make a video of me to use as propaganda, then we might be forced to flee immediately after the release. Goodman would go apeshit if she knew I was here in Austin.
“Let me guess,” I said, pointing at the door opposite Rowan’s room. “This one is mine?” I reached out for the handle, but she placed a hand over mine.
“No! That’s my dark room,” she gasped. “I’m a photographer. I like to develop my own film.” She dimmed the lights in the hallway and then opened the door. It was completely pitch black inside until she flipped the wall switch to turn on a red light overhead. Pictures of people, pets, and landscapes dangled from clips attached to strings stretched across the room.
“Don’t most people do everything digitally these days?” I asked, genuinely interested in the process.
“Yeah, they do. I do too,” she said. “That’s why I have that enormous monitor in the guest room. I do all my digital editing in there. But when people order prints, or I find something really special that I want a hard copy of, I do it myself. Photography is my passion.” She looked at me directly, biting her lower lip. “I’d love to have the honor of photographing you, Bodhi. The people need to see you, to see that you’re still there for them. Jason said that you’ve been in hiding since all of this started, so you might not even know it yet, but your story is an inspiration. You were the first to stick it to The Man. You escaped NAR custody after being severely beaten without hurting anyone and then exposed yourself to even more danger by rescuing your wife from that heavily guarded neighborhood they have all of those people locked up in. You are the embodiment of the Revolution’s ideals. To be given the opportunity to photograph you would be… Wow!” She smiled and stretched her hands along her thighs in excitement. “Amazing.”
The version of events Rogan and Plummer passed along wasn’t quite how it went down. I’d been out of it, borderline unconscious with a concussion when they showed up to break me out of the CEA holding area. They’d gotten Cassandra out, not me. I was just along for the ride.
“Well, um… Of course, you can take a few photos of me.”
She squealed and threw her arms around me. I raised my arms and stiffened as she jumped up and down while holding onto me. “Yes! I’ve been thinking all week about what I could do. The backdrops, the location, everything. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
I laughed. Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Okay. Okay,” I said, still chuckling a little. “Um, so where do you want me?”
“I’m not ready to photograph you yet, Bodhi. There’s still a lot of prep work I need to do. I’ve got to—”
“No. Ah, I mean, where should I put my stuff?”
“Oh! Duh,” she pantomimed slapping herself on the forehead. The woman certainly had a fun, bubbly personality. “Come on. My bedroom is on the other side of the house.”
“Ah…” I reached out, gently grabbing her wrist. “I mean, where do I sleep? Should I put my stuff in with Rowan and take the couch?”
“What? No. Don’t be silly. You guys might be here a couple of weeks. Maybe longer, I don’t know. You’ll stay in the master. There’s an on-suite bathroom, a big ol’ soaking tub, plenty of room and everything. There’s not a chance in hell that I’d let you, Bodhi Haskins, sleep on the couch.”
I glanced at Rowan. His eyes were wide as he watched what was happening. “I can stay in the guest room with my brother. He’s—”
“You will not,” she declared. “I was not raised to shove guests off into a tiny corner of the house when there’s a perfectly good queen-sized bed that can be shared. It’s no problem. I don’t mind.”
I gestured to myself. “I’m a big guy, Beth. I’ll end up rolling over in the middle of the night and crushing you or something. If you insist that we’re not going to use the couch, why don’t we have Rowan share the queen with you and I’ll stay in the guest suite where I can have the whole bed to myself.”
My brother’s eyes got even wider as he stumbled over his words. “Bodhi, I, ah. I mean, um, I. That’s, uh—”
“That’s sweet, Bodhi,” Beth said, adjusting her hand to grab mine. I hadn’t even realized that I still held onto her wrist. “But no. You need the space. Like you said, you’re a big guy. Rowan, you’ll be okay in the guest room, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied dutifully.
“See. That’s it, then. No more debate. You’re bunking with me. Come on, let me show you.”
As I let Beth lead me down the hallway, I felt as if I were a dead man walking, taking that final stroll toward the electrocution chamber. I looked back at Rowan once more. He had a goofy grin on his face as he trailed along behind us. Asshole.
“So, here it is,” Beth said, indicating the light purple master bedroom.
She was right. It was certainly very large and had plenty of room compared to the other end of the house. I decided that I could easily make a pallet on the floor in the corner and be out of the way with no issues or even use the loveseat she had situated across the room under the windows. There was an upright dresser on one wall with a television and—
“Wow!” Rowan exclaimed. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” Beth replied. “I love the emotions portrayed in that picture. Can you believe I took it myself with a remote?”
I turned around. Above the bed was a large—and I mean massive—framed picture of a very nude Beth in black and white. It was shot from the angle of her feet, her legs extending into the foreground and beyond the view. She reclined backward, her elbows resting on a set of pillows behind her. Everything she owned was on display. The only way the image could have been more gratuitous was if she’d had her legs spread wide instead of angled slightly.
“Ah…” I tried to think quickly about what I should say. If I complemented her, would she be offended? If I didn’t compliment her, would she be offended? Hell, what was the proper re
sponse when you find yourself staring at the nude image of a woman—who absolutely was not your wife—whom you’d just met and had invited you to stay in her bed? “Um. That’s a very nice angle,” I said awkwardly.
“Yeah, it is,” she laughed. “I’ve got all of the outtakes from the shoot in digital format. I’ll have to show you. Some of them are just so goofy. Nude photography is hard.”
I was at a loss for words. The best I could manage was a grunt of acknowledgement.
Her hand fell onto my upper arm and somehow, she wrapped her other one around my bicep so that she held onto my left arm firmly in both hands. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m very comfortable with nudity,” she said. “Rowan, I’m gonna apologize ahead of time. You might accidentally see some boobs while you’re staying here. I hate wearing a bra and half the time, I don’t even bother to wear a shirt. They rub my nipples and that just sets off a different set of emotions that I don’t need while I’m working.”
“I’m okay with nudity!” Rowan said quickly. I don’t think I’d ever heard the boy reply to a statement so fast in my life.
“You’re cute,” Beth said. “What are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Seventeen,” I answered.
“Oh! I have a friend that you should meet. She works down at Starbucks and—”
I pulled my arm away from her. “I’m sorry, Beth. You’re great. But I think Rogan might have made a mistake. Maybe we should find somewhere else to stay.”
“What? No!” Rowan said.
“Why?” Beth questioned. “I thought you’d like it here.”
“I do… It’s just. I’m married. Rowan is only seventeen. We’re about to start a war. This is all a little too—”
“Awesome?” Rowan interjected.
“A little too much,” I corrected him. “I think we should maybe stay in the autonomous zone or something.”
“The CEA is preparing a crackdown on that dumb idea,” Beth said. “Jason told everyone who did that to leave because they’re gonna get arrested. It’s too early for that still.”
“I don’t know, Beth,” I said. “I mean, you’re a very nice woman, but…” I indicated the nude photograph of her hanging above the bed. “It’s a little much for me.”
American Dreams | Book 2 | The Ascent Page 2