And now the monster is in me, a growl boiling deep inside with no way to get out. Eight years. Eight years he left Mother paralyzed like this, rotting away in her little glass cage, hoping the right moment would come to bring her back so she’d tell him where to find the key to his new kingdom.
“There are already hundreds, maybe even a thousand who have died now.” He pauses. “I don’t want anyone else to die if they don’t have to. Is hoarding the cure for yourself really worth their lives, Sev? Just think of how many more will go if you have to Sleep another month. All you have to do is tell me where the cure is and they’ll be saved.”
I wish I could breathe enough to scream. Wish I could ball his collar in my fist and tell him exactly how many people out there have SS because of me: none. He’s the one who made it contagious. He’s the one who spread it.
He’s the one who can still move, the one who’s still a living creature, not like me.
The last bit of me left curls up tight inside my head, trying to count through all the people who were relying on me to bring them the cure. June. Peishan. Mei. Luokai. Sole.
Everyone. Hoping the dead girl will come.
CHAPTER 11 Tai-ge
I CAN FEEL SOMEONE FOLLOWING me toward the lights in the Second Quarter before I get to the Aihu Bridge. The ashy remains of the market square booths sift over my boots as I walk, an abandoned coat button crunching beneath my weight. The charred remains of a cat. I stop watching the ground when my boots kick over a blackened bone too large to belong to an animal.
It isn’t so much sound or movement that persuade me that it’s Mei shadowing me. The feeling in my gut—dread? Revulsion?—matches her exactly. Gripping the small canvas bag I found as I prowled through likely hiding places on the way up to getting my coat, I walk faster, almost at a run by the time my boots hit the Aihu Bridge. The new timbers still smell of wood and pitch. The torch line is just on the other side, smoke already curling around me, rebuffed by my mask. Mei probably won’t even be able to set foot on the bridge.
An opinion I immediately revise when someone crashes into my side, shoving me into one of the bridge’s massive supports. My hand clamps down on my mask, keeping it tight against my face as I dodge, hoping to avoid another blow, only it doesn’t come.
Mei stands between me and the torches, a mask hastily pulled over her nose and mouth, hair sticking out at odd angles from the crown of her head. The half-amused, confident expression that’s been splashed across her face since I first saw her has fled, something wild taking its place.
“What in rotted Sephdom do you think you’re doing?” She hardly looks at my hands, one of which should be holding a gun, but I can’t risk dropping the canvas bag where it’s huddled under my coat.
Can’t risk her seeing that I have it.
“I’m here to help people.” I point up to the Second Quarter, the lights from before now hidden by the buildings standing shoulder to shoulder uphill from us. “Those people. Which one of my soldiers did you condemn by stealing their mask?” I told the soldiers to get her one, but I didn’t really believe Mother had sent extras with the supplies.
Continuing across the bridge means pushing by Mei when she doesn’t move. She’s solid, twisting to trip me when I attempt to use my weight to get by.
“I’m condemning people, Major Hong?” Mei spits my name as if it’s a curse. “If you were trying to help people you wouldn’t have brought only growth regulators and enough food to feed your team. We both know why your mother sent you here. Going out there just to keep up appearances is worse than stupid.”
The sanitized air sucking in through my mask seems to stop entirely, leaving my lungs suctioned empty. She knows we’re after the mask factory? The Mantis labs? Or just that we’re after something? I keep walking.
“It’s too dangerous to go past the torch line.” She doesn’t follow me, halted at the center of the bridge. Not the smoke, but some other invisible barrier stopping her advance.
“You wouldn’t go out to help Menghu who were trapped?” I point to her mask. “You can now. I’ve got the reports that say there are Menghu stuck here, but since you’re not moving, I guess I know the answer to that question.”
Mei’s eyes narrow. I don’t claim to be good at reading faces, but Mei has the talent for exuding pure hatred in a way I’ve never encountered before. Perhaps I’m not the only one here who has trouble masking my thoughts. “It’s not a matter of not wanting to help. I can’t help anyone out there, and neither can you.”
I step through the line of torches. “I don’t believe that.”
“This mission isn’t worth getting garroted over.” She puts her hands up in frustration and takes a step back from the line of fire and chemicals, me on one side, her on the other. “Not for me, anyway.”
“My life is the City, Mei. Their lives are my life.” It’s in the pledge I said every morning before starting my shift in Father’s office. Together we stand, united to find the cure to SS. I just have to figure out how to keep my comrades past the torch line out of harm’s way so they live to see the cure. “That’s the difference between the City and the Mountain, I guess.” I take a step back. “I am a part of this place, and the people out there are a part of me. You are just one girl, ready to run the moment your own life is in danger.”
“Didn’t you run when we came for the City?”
I swallow, failure a coppery taste in my mouth.
“What about your General? Your Chairman? Why aren’t they the ones walking into a food-deprived, Seph-infested neighborhood?” She points to the dark buildings. “Or is it just your life that’s equal to all the expendable Reds they abandoned here? What about the people who slave away on your farms? Are you equal to them?”
Her voice isn’t just a combination of disbelief and annoyance now. Every word means to stab, as if this is somehow personal. But I grew up knowing that Outsiders would say anything to tear down the City even as they tried to get in.
“I’m doing what I think is right.” I take another step back from the torch line.
“I thought obeying orders was all you were good for, Major Hong.”
The words wilt something inside me. Not only because of the intended insult. There’s nothing wrong with following orders if you trust the person giving them. But she’s right. What I’m doing is in direct conflict with what Mother has asked me to do. That’s why I’m here. To show I’m worthy of her trust. To follow her.
Is walking past the torch line treason, the way Captain Bai said?
I stare down at Mei’s boots, the toes muddy, laces frayed. Perhaps I stepped too far outside the lines when I followed Sevvy. Maybe I broke something in my brain, making me wish for solutions to problems that are unfixable. To find hope where there is none, as if I can save the world just because I want to, not because it’s possible.
But then I think of Captain Bai staring down at that ruined doll.
If there’s a way to keep from killing our own people that Mother hasn’t seen, it’ll help her cause, not hurt it. Part of being a leader is being able to adapt if a situation isn’t what you thought. Even Mother would try to piece another path together the way I’m trying to. It’s like the City pledge, like Sevvy said: We’re all people. We all belong to each other in the City, no matter what scars we have.
I turn away from Mei. “If you’re too frightened to follow me, then I hope you come up with a good filler report. You can tell Dr. Yang we played weiqi and that you lost.” In more ways than she realizes just now. I press the little canvas bag stashed under my heavy coat tight against my ribs, wondering how long it will be before she checks the spot under the stairs where she stashed it.
When the sun rises and it’s time to take her Mantis, I’d guess.
I can feel her eyes on me until I turn up the road toward my family’s compound. The shadows seem thicker on the other side of the torch barrier. This road which I know so well—down to the oddly shaped ring of cobblestones in front of the Huang�
�s gate, the glass lantern missing from over Captain Chen’s family compound—looks alien. Walking slowly, I freeze when a flurry of movement ignites just to my left.
It’s a paper-cut lantern, the intricate knot and fringe at the bottom shivering in the wind. As I walk faster, the silence seems to come alive with whispers, twitches of movement in the curtains overlooking the street, shadows stretching longer than they should, turning to follow me. I count at least six people hidden in courtyards, peering through the geometric cutouts in a wall, sitting against the buildings, but none of them move. They watch, only their eyes following me.
If there is some kind of leadership set up here as Captain Bai seemed to think, they’d choose a location easy to defend with access to food storage. My guess is the Second Quarter cafeteria, only a few streets away from my home.
I turn onto the cafeteria’s street and am rewarded by the golden glow of torchlight. It falls on a shoulder-high barricade, a woman stationed at a break between broken chairs and dresser drawers. Just as I’m about to step into the light, the woman screams.
It’s a high, keening wail, at least ten decibels louder than any normal reaction to pain, surprise, or fear. I clap my hands over my ears, the scream uncomfortably loud even from twenty feet away.
A woman and a man burst out from behind the barrier. The woman—too pale to be a City dweller—slips a hand over the woman’s mouth, careful not to let her fingers poke between the screamer’s teeth. Her other arm goes around the woman’s waist to steady her. A Menghu?
The man hangs back for a moment as if evaluating for damage before joining the first in holding the woman up. It seems to go on forever, the high-pitched scream petering out and then coming back full force once the woman has gasped down a breath. Finally, the sound dulls down to a stricken sort of silence. The screamer puts a hand to her throat and crumples, held up only by the two who came to help. They stand there clinging to each other, the man hesitantly asking a question too low for me to hear—probably too low for anyone to hear after that scream.
What sort of thought causes a compulsion to scream like that?
The three look up when I step into the light, the bleach-skinned woman narrowing her eyes when she sees my mask. She’s definitely not from the City.
“What in Yuan’s name are you doing here?” the man growls, stopping my advance. “Bringing more fire? More bombs?”
“I’d like to speak with whomever is in charge.”
“Outsiders have done less to hurt us than your helis.” It’s the screamer who answers, her voice a damaged rasp.
The pale-skinned woman—the former Menghu—looks at me appraisingly. “What do you want?”
“We have to clear a safe path to the South Wall Gate.” I step closer, the light too bright in my eyes, feeling exposed because they can all see me when I can’t quite see them. “I was hoping to coordinate relief efforts—”
“You can’t start by killing people only to expect us to step out of your way the next day,” the man interrupts. “My daughter was in the square when it went up.” His voice cracks on the last word, and it’s a moment before he can continue, the two others reaching out to comfort him. “I should have been with her.”
“Killing… who? I haven’t killed anyone. The square burned during the invasion, didn’t it? The soldiers who came—”
“He said he came to help,” the Menghu interrupts. “Have him explain it to Lieutenant Hao.”
“Fine.” The man gives my mask an ugly glare, as if my wearing it is some kind of affront. “Come on.”
The outer hallway looks dirtier than I remember, the wall’s plaster riddled with cracks and holes where it used to be smooth. We go to the stairs that lead to cafeteria administration offices, the steps barricaded about halfway up with metal grates and broken furniture, though the checkpoint is devoid of guards. My guide stops at an open door near the end of the hall. “Lieutenant Hao?”
There’s a man inside sitting at a table. He glances up from a pile of documents. “What do you need? I…” His eyes catch on my mask, and he stands quickly, pulling a gun out of his coat. It’s semiautomatic. Typical Outside patrol issue.
A shiver runs down my spine as the barrel twitches toward the City seal over my heart.
“What is this, Feng Liu?” Lieutenant Hao growls toward my guide.
“I can speak for myself,” I interject. “The General wishes to mitigate the damage done here. You are Lieutenant Hao, I presume?” I hold myself straight, not bowing an inch. No matter how long this man was with the patrollers Outside, I outrank him, and acting any other way will lessen what little control I have here. “We need to coordinate the best way to help you and the survivors left here in the City.”
Lieutenant Hao lowers the gun a fraction, candlelight sinking into the jagged holes left in his collar where his star pin should be. I glance toward the man who led me here, Feng Liu, finding his collar empty as well. “Coordinate?” Hao finally asks. “I think I’ve seen enough coordination from you who left the City to know it isn’t in our best interest.” He doesn’t incline his head the way he should.
“My soldiers need a clear path to the South Gate Wall in order to get more supplies into the City. We mean to restart Mantis production.” I reach for the canvas bag concealed under my coat.
Hao tenses, once again taking aim with the gun. “Don’t move. Take your hand out of your coat, or you’ll be doing nothing but rot for the rest of this war.”
I slowly withdraw my hand, then hold it up where he can see it. “I don’t want anyone to be harmed. We’ve taken precautions with the torches to keep the uninfected here safe, but you can still help us move our mission forward.” I clear my throat. “We’ll bring you food. Supplies. Mantis. Whatever happened during the invasion—”
“It wasn’t the invasion that has me worried. No masks for us, no place in the helis.” He shrugs. “Not ideal, but understandable. No, what had me scared was our own people burning the market square a week ago so you could land your helis. It was your scouts who cleaned out the surrounding buildings one by one, then burned the bodies. You didn’t even ask us to move before you started shooting!”
The scouts? They killed people in the square? My throat clenches, wondering if that doll was more than I thought. Perhaps Captain Bai saw it drop from its owner’s fingers, a body he couldn’t bring himself to burn.
No. It couldn’t be. “You must have misunderstood. There are still invaders in the City, and they must have taken control of some helis.…”
“The invaders? They were left behind too.” Lieutenant Hao’s forehead creases deeper. “Never thought there’d be a day finger stealers would be easier to trust than my own leaders.”
My mouth seems to be glued shut. Everything feels too tight, my mask digging into my jaw, my coat stretching across my shoulders and chest. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Captain Bai was ordered to burn and clear out the square. My own orders have been just as emergency-driven. Extreme resolutions in our extreme situation. But that’s what I’m trying to temper. “I don’t know anything about what happened in the square. Only that I need your help now to keep worse from happening.”
“You don’t deserve our help.” Lieutenant Hao’s voice rises. “I’ve seen enough in the last week to know exactly how much my life is worth to the new General, and I…” He bites his lip, the hand with the gun beginning to shake.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as the man’s gun arm sags to the side then snaps back up to point at Feng Liu next to me.
“Yuan’s dirty unders,” Feng Liu swears, dropping to the floor.
I follow his lead, plunging down as Hao discharges his weapon into the ceiling, then again into the wall behind me with wild, poorly aimed shots. I bolt for cover under the table, dropping Mei’s bag to pull the gun from my coat. Lieutenant Hao slams into my back before I can get it all the way out, locking one arm around my neck, his other hand clutching at my mask’s tubes, attempting to tear them fro
m my face.
Slamming my elbow into Hao’s stomach doesn’t stop his hand groping for my mask, not until I squirm out of his grasp, then launch myself toward him, the close quarters under the table not ideal for any kind of fight. My knuckles catch on Hao’s uniform buttons as I grab hold of him, using my weight to slam his head into the table leg.
Feng Liu springs to his feet, blocking my retreat. Going for my gun again, this time I get it free of my coat and slam the handle into the outside of his standing leg, just above his knee.
Feng Liu drops with a yell, and I scramble out from under the table to put my back against a wall, not sure who is still compulsing or how long it will last, my hearing nothing but a high-pitched squeal. But when I find my balance, the room seems calm.
No one seems to have noticed the noise, or perhaps they decided to stay out of it after the gun fired. Feng Liu is where I left him on the floor, clutching his leg. Hao is still under the table, his feet sticking out, limp, though I didn’t hit him that hard. It takes me a few moments to catch my breath before I can bring myself to edge around the table to look closer. Lieutenant Hao puts his hands up, coughing as he rolls to his side, his nose bloody. I kick the gun away from him, keeping my own aimed at his chest.
Moving to where I dropped Mei’s bag, I roll it toward him, the rattle of what’s inside lost in what’s left of my hearing. My voice sounds too loud in my ears, as if I’m yelling into a void. “A peace offering. I don’t want to kill my own people. But killing is what will happen if you don’t help me.” I point to the bag. “Whatever the army was doing before, I’m in charge now. I can promise this. And more. We’re not just here to make more masks.”
Hao sits up and pulls the bag into his lap, his eyes bulging when he finds the Mantis bottles inside.
CHAPTER 12 Howl
REIFA WANTS TO FIND THE Chairman’s son? It’s not a miracle she wants. It’s a fairy tale.
Luckily, I’m really good at fairy tales. I was one for about two years, pretending to be the Chairman’s son. The story Reifa is asking for isn’t so different. I just can’t deliver in the same way.
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