Level 2

by Lenore Appelhans

  And God knows what Julian’s intentions are. Or if they have more to do with our history than they do with the rebellion. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  “We didn’t want to overwhelm you. There’s only so much a drone can handle when it first leaves the hive,” Eli says.

  “Hey. Good morning.” Virginia rubs her eyes drowsily, stumbling out of the chamber Julian put her in earlier. As much as I love her, I’m a little annoyed at her timing—coming out of a memory right as I’m getting some real answers.

  Eli scans her from head to toe in a quick, clinical procedure and flicks his gaze away. “This is the girl you risked everything for?” His disdain is palpable.

  Startled, Virginia cowers in Eli’s shadow and scuttles over to Julian.

  His bullying makes something inside me snap. I stand up as straight as possible and face Eli full-on. “Okay, Eli. Here’s the deal. We go pick up Beckah and find my boyfriend, Neil. And then maybe you can find out for sure if I’m special enough for phase three.”

  Eli’s lips twitch, but his eyes don’t as much as blink. His arm shoots out, grabbing and twisting me until my face squishes up against the wall. I feel cold metal on my wrists, hear the tinny ring of handcuffs clanking shut. He yanks the chain between the cuffs, and I sway, no longer steady on my feet. He cinches my upper arms with his steely fingers and pivots so I can see Julian and Virginia’s shocked expressions.

  He leans into me. “No deal.”

  “Let her go, Eli,” Julian says sharply, but he doesn’t make a move to free me.

  “I don’t want this to get out of hand.” Eli’s voice is low, perfectly modulated. “We’re all going to quietly head back to meet Mira and proceed with phase three. Because if there’s any trouble, I can’t guarantee our new friend Virginia’s safety.”

  A wave of psychological nausea pounds me into submission. I can’t let him hurt Virginia. I nod weakly to signal my acquiescence to Julian, and he dips his chin in return.

  “I think we’re ready, then.” Julian pulls a shell-shocked Virginia with him and pounds out the code. The door opens, and they hesitate before slowly exiting the hive.

  “Move out!” Eli orders. He escorts me firmly down the corridor behind Julian and Virginia, and we all four make our way back to the rebels’ latest hideout.

  During the forced march I seethe with resentment for Eli. But for Virginia’s sake I don’t struggle. Don’t make a scene. His whole demeanor is laced with swagger. He enjoys my knowing he has the upper hand.

  Once we’re back at the hideout, Eli presses a key into Julian’s hand, even though he could have dematerialized the cuffs himself. As Eli stalks over to his work space, Julian frees me so I can help Virginia into a chamber. Our journey has taken a lot out of her, but it’s amazing, despite the soreness in my arms, how fit I feel in comparison. Was I as haggard and worn when I first got out as she is now?

  I sit down on the sofa, noting that Mira sits on a chair with her sights fixed on me. I won’t get away easily again.

  As I wait for Eli to spring phase three on me, I pick at my sweater and pinch the lightly stretchy material of my jeans. Something’s missing from my outfit. My charm bracelet. As soon as I think about it, it appears around my wrist, the weight of it uncomfortable against my skin. I look at the now single dolphin and have to think of Autumn. And I know that if I am to be truly strong, if I am ever to pave my own path away from the rebels and eventually move on, I am going to have to confront my betrayal of her, the reason the second dolphin is now missing from my bracelet.

  I stand up, and Mira springs up, as quick as a cat. “Where are you going?”

  “To plug in,” I say sharply. “Is that still allowed?”

  “Of course.” But she waits, arms folded, until I’m halfway up the stairs before she sits back down.

  I climb into the chamber above Virginia, pull the cables out, and lie down. When the hologram screen lights up, I begin to have second thoughts. I don’t really need to do this, do I? Surely there are other ways to build strength? But my gut tells me I have to go in and face the weakness that ruined my friendship with Autumn. I steel myself for impact, like taking a deep breath at the edge of an icy lake, and I dive in.

  Ward, Felicia. Memory #31434

  Tags: Germany, Autumn, Julian, Halloween

  Number of Views: 1

  Owner Rating: Not rated

  User Rating: Not shared

  The field house is dimly lit and draped in snaking black streamers and thick vines of fake cobwebs. As I grope my way through the room, strobe lights illuminate the few people here this early in jarring bursts. I sit down at the bar, where I am supposed to meet Autumn. In Germany the legal drinking age is sixteen, so anywhere off our housing compound I could order a mojito. And I would. But because this area is considered U.S. property, U.S. rules govern here. I have no chance in hell of the bartender serving me a mojito, even if I am dressed up as a devil.

  Since their espresso machine sports a visible OUT OF SERVICE sign, I order a Diet Dr Pepper. The bartender serves it to me in a glass with a twisty straw, like I am eleven. I resist the urge to throw the straw back in his face and instead swirl it around in the dark, murky liquid, faster and faster until a tiny whirlpool forms.

  “Felicia!” Autumn crashes into me, laughing. Dressed as an angel, in a long flowing white dress cinched with a gold belt, an ivory chiffon wrap, and a gold halo headband, she’s loose and languid. Her breath reeks of vodka and peppermint. She takes my cola and gulps straight from the glass. “Ugh! What is this?” She smacks her lips and then sticks her finger into her mouth and pretends to gag, giggling. “It’s vomitous!”

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “Hell yeah, I am!” She slams my drink onto the counter so that it sloshes over the side, and then she pulls out a mirror and a tube of lipstick from her tiny gold clutch. Dabbing a shimmery pink on her lips, she leans in close to my ear and shouts, “He finally kissed me last night! And he’s meeting me here in a few hours.”

  My heart thuds in my chest and my body goes numb. The blood rushing to my head drowns out the sound of the party music. I stare at her, uncomprehending.

  She’s grinning ear to ear, looking up dreamily, her big hazel eyes in soft focus. She hasn’t noticed how still I’ve gone. She’ll expect me to be happy for her, but my insides twist with jealousy. What game is Julian playing?

  “Uh . . . that’s great. Finally.” I shape my mouth into an approximation of a smile.

  “I need a drink!” Autumn declares. “And not that swill you’re drinking. Mojitos!”

  “Haven’t you had enough?” I ask, squeezing her arm. “Your breath could power a small city.”

  She throws back her head and laughs, pulling me off my stool and onto the edge of the dance floor but no farther. She knows I like having an escape route when places get crowded. “I love this song!” She shimmies her hips back and forth in a sexy merengue, a souvenir of her family’s most recent posting in the Dominican Republic. I have to smile as I watch her. With Autumn it doesn’t matter what type of song is playing, it could be The Beatles or a Gregorian chant, she always pulls out her merengue in the end.

  Unlike for most parties I’ve been to at the field house, the DJ is spinning a good mix of dance songs. The more I dance, the less I fume—until the combination of Autumn’s sparkling eyes and the pulsating beat of the music wins me over completely. Despite her flaws, Autumn is my best friend. She has stood beside me, metaphorically speaking, anyway, for more than half my life. A meaningless fling with a jerk like Julian, as irresistible as he is, is not worth losing her over.

  After an hour of dancing I’m in need of some fresh air. I mouth to Autumn that I’m going outside, and head for the back patio. Autumn latches on to my hand and lets me lead her around the mass of costumed revelers. We burst through the door, giggling. The brisk October air makes me shiver, despite my long-sleeved black turtleneck, black wool tights, and red form-fitting sweater and
skirt. But Autumn doesn’t seem to feel the chill.

  She pulls a flask from her clutch and drinks deeply. “Want some?” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  I accept it from her, take a sip, and grimace. It’s straight vodka—and it burns going down, making me long for my orphaned glass of Dr Pepper. “How can you drink this stuff?”

  She snatches the flask and pouts. “I like it.” She drains the rest of the flask and then pops a red-and-white-striped peppermint into her mouth.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Hey, did you read the chapters from our book I gave you last week yet?”

  “Yeah,” I say, my teeth starting to chatter.

  “So what did you think?” Her cheeks flush as she waits for my response.

  “Wasn’t it a bit . . .” I search for the right word. “. . . overdramatic to have Chelsy smash a vase over Tyler’s head?” I cross my arms over my chest for warmth.

  “I told you. They call Chelsy ‘Winter.’” She cocks her head. “Tyler cheated on her with Summer. She was upset.” She looks at me as if this should explain everything.

  I don’t feel like fighting with her. I want to go back inside. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  She nods her head, surprised but pleased that I’ve acquiesced so easily.

  We return to the dance floor. Autumn’s movements become increasingly uncoordinated, until I start to worry I’m going to have to drag her limp body home.

  I’m keeping such a close eye on her, I don’t even notice Julian standing there until Autumn lurches forward and plants a sloppy kiss on him. “You came!” she slurs, holding on to his bare arms for support. “But you didn’t wear a costume. You naughty, naughty boy!” She dissolves into giggles and clumsily rips off her halo headband. “Take this . . .” She bites her lip in exaggerated concentration as she tries to put it on him.

  He plucks the halo from her hand and sticks it back on her head, smoothing out her hair so it frames her face. He says something into her ear, and she laughs. He lifts her arms and places them on his shoulders, and they start swaying to the music.

  I should have left before Julian showed up. His arrogant charm irritates me. I look for a place to sit down, but Autumn stumbles over. “Let’s go!” she roars into my ear, pushing me toward the exit. We spill out onto the sidewalk, and Julian joins us, brandishing his coat.

  “What’s up?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “Julian got a text from Nicole that they’re all over at the Irish pub,” Autumn says, grabbing on to Julian’s hand. “She wants us to come too!”

  My stomach clenches when I see Julian give her an adoring smile. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea . . . ,” I say.

  “Please, please, please!” Autumn stomps her foot like a toddler denied a cookie. “You know I want to go to Nicole’s birthday party. If we go tonight, she’ll invite us. I know it.”

  I kind of doubt Nicole will be impressed by the state Autumn is in at the moment, but maybe she’ll sober up in the cab ride over. I throw up my arms in surrender, and we hustle over to the main street to hail a taxi.

  Autumn slides in first, followed by Julian and then me. I give the driver instructions, sit back, and look out the window to avoid the happy couple.

  Julian’s lips brush my neck. “Alone at last,” he murmurs.

  I push him away roughly and peek over at Autumn. She’s slumped over in her seat, snoring. After all the vodka she’s drunk, probably not even a car crash could wake her.

  “What’s going on, Julian?” I hiss, my jealousy bubbling to the surface. “You kissed her even though you told me you didn’t like her like that.”

  Julian looks petulant. “Hey, it was you who wanted to keep the charade going. She was getting suspicious. I did it for you. It’s what you wanted.”

  I snort. “And you didn’t enjoy it the least bit either. Am I right?”

  “Of course not.” He grazes his knuckles softly down my cheek. “I am all yours.”

  He leans in close and smashes his lips against mine. And with that, my resolve to stay away from him is overpowered by my desire. I press against him, forgetting Autumn, forgetting myself. Nothing else on Earth matters more than this.

  As he kisses me, Julian’s hands are everywhere at once. In my hair, caressing my neck, pushing my skirt up higher on my leg, pulling at my sweater. “You have too many clothes on,” he says as he softly bites my earlobe, his voice a low growl. I slide my hand under his shirt, over his heart. It’s beating as wildly as mine.

  The taxi squeals to a stop, the driver blaring on his horn and shouting obscenities at someone who has cut him off. Startled, I break away from Julian’s kiss to see Autumn staring straight at me. Her eyes grow huge. I gulp, tugging my skirt down and readjusting my devil’s horns headband. “It’s not what it looks like!” I say desperately.

  The driver announces our arrival at the Irish pub, and Autumn is out of the car in two seconds flat. I’ve never seen her move so fast. Certainly never with a flask of vodka in her. “Pay him!” I yell at Julian and rush out after Autumn. I catch up to her before she can enter the pub, and grab her hand.

  She spins around, shaking me off. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” Her tone is scalding, her eyes filled with pure hatred.

  “I’m so sorry. I . . .” I wring my hands, and something on my wrist catches her attention. My charm bracelet has come loose from under the cuff of my turtleneck.

  She snatches at it, lifting my arm violently in the process. Then she rips off one of the dolphins. “You don’t need this anymore. My friendship means nothing to you. And now . . . you mean nothing to me.”

  Autumn yanks open the door to the pub and lets it slam shut behind her. Dazed, I turn to look for Julian, but he’s not on the curb, where I expect him to be. He has moved to the front seat of the cab, and he’s gesturing to the driver. Some problem with the fare? I stalk over to the taxi, ready to give him hell for his part in pissing off Autumn, but when I try to open the back door, it’s jammed. Or locked.

  I jiggle it. “Hey! Unlock this!” I shout.

  Julian turns in his seat and peers out the window at me. He has the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. He presses his palm against the window, and as if hypnotized, I press my hand on the other side of the glass. And the cab drives off. I’m stunned. What the hell is he doing?

  I pull out my phone and call him, but a recording informs me the number has been disconnected. In frustration I kick the curb with my shiny red heels. I end up only scuffing the toe and banging my foot. I hobble over to the outside wall of the pub. I sink to the ground against the rough concrete and bury my pounding head in my hands, not able to believe what just happened.

  When I surface in my chamber, I blink back tears. Autumn’s last look at me is burned into my consciousness, like the glare you still see on the back of your eyelids after staring at the sun. It will follow me for all of eternity. I crawl out of the chamber and freeze.

  All three of my prison guards are standing on the stairs in front of me, wearing grim expressions.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Phase three misfire?”

  “Some of our quadrant leaders from other cells are reporting strange occurrences,” says Eli. “First there was an isolated hive cave-in, but now an increasing number of hives have crumbled to the point where they are unusable.”

  “But isn’t that what you wanted? Fewer batteries to power their evil plan?”

  “Not like this,” he says. “Not with what they are doing with those displaced.”

  I shudder, expecting bad news. “Which is what?”

  “Unconfirmed. But we do know the Morati are rounding them up. And it looks like they plan to turn them into an army.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “I . . . I THINK I NEED TO SIT DOWN.” My head spins. I stagger down the stairs, over to the closest chair, and fall into it. Eli, Mira, and Julian sit as well. They look shell-shocked and, for the first time, actually scared. Seeing them like this hits me hard
. The Morati threat is tangible now in a way it wasn’t before.

  Mira, usually so talkative, does nothing except pull at the ends of the hair at the base of her neck. Eli stares off into space. Julian—I don’t even want to look at Julian.

  “Okay. So what makes you think they are building an army? And how is that even possible?”

  “The Morati are ruthless, and the Lethe drug is not the only tool at their disposal,” Eli says, more composed than the rest of us but still shaken. “Reports from my scouts say there is also an experimental drug derived from the underworld river Phlegethon.”

  That day in Mrs. Keats’s Mythology class pops into my head, fresh in mind thanks to my recent viewing. Alyssa’s smug expression as she answered every question right, including the one about the River Phlegethon. “It’s where dead souls boil with anger,” I say.

  “Exactly. If the Morati have found a way to stabilize it, they could use it to marshal any displaced subjects against us.”

  It’s bad enough the Morati have so little regard for humans that they use us as batteries. But at least, despite being imprisoned, we still have had free will about what we choose to access and do with our time. If this drug can turn us into some kind of automated supersoldiers for their cause . . . It’s unfathomable. What if it happens to Neil? My father? To me? “But they can’t do that,” I protest. “What will happen to the people? Won’t it torture them to burn with rage?”

  “The people?” Eli looks slightly confused, as if he hasn’t contemplated this aspect of the Morati’s plan. As if he doesn’t care. “Well, they’ll be like mindless zombies, so consumed by pain that they’ll attack anyone in sight.”

  Julian clears his throat. “We can’t let it happen.” He gets up, his jaw set with steely resolve, and scoots his chair so it’s facing mine directly, and sits back down. We’re so close, our knees knock together.

  “You have to make a decision, Felicia. Are you ready to join this fight for real?” Julian glances at Eli and scowls slightly. “As a volunteer, not a conscript?”

  Am I? Until a few minutes ago I would have said no, mostly out of resentment for Eli’s recent behavior. But this is bigger than me now. There’s more at stake than my pride.