Gravity (The Taking)

by Melissa West

  “Think about who you will hurt. Is that really what you want?” Jackson asks.

  Law looks at me, his face full of pain. “Ari, please just think about what you’re doing. For me.”

  I start to ask what they’re talking about, but Gretchen interrupts, her fists clenched tight. “Are you serious?” she screams at Lawrence, pushing him in the chest. “What about— Am I just—” Her head twitches, and I wonder if she’s going to punch him or break into sobs. “She doesn’t want you. Can’t you see that? And you don’t want her, either. I know it, and deep down you know I’m right. Why can’t you just let her go?”

  Law looks like she punched him in the gut even though she never moved. His eyes shift from her to me and back. “I…I don’t know.” And he walks away, his hands in his pockets.

  Gretchen leans against our lockers.

  “Gretch…” I say. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  Her face falls. “Nothing. It’s his decision. You’ve already made your choice.”

  Jackson studies Gretchen with strange curiosity and then says, “He feels the same way.”

  She looks up with skepticism, but there’s hope in her eyes. “What? No, he isn’t sure.”

  Jackson laughs. “Oh, he’s sure all right.”

  Gretchen shrugs, but I can tell she feels better. We go to class, hoping to quiet the gossip before it starts, but it doesn’t help. Talk spreads through the entire school, some claiming the four of us are in some crazy affair, though most seem to focus on Jackson and me and my decision to be with him over Lawrence. The professors ogle as much as the students, watching us with a new curiosity. The privileged, like me, don’t normally mix with the lower class. So even though Jackson is gorgeous, it’s a shock that I would choose someone considered by most to be beneath me.

  I’m about to leave school when a stab of reality hits me. Dad. I hadn’t thought that far and now my throat feels tight, my stomach jelly. My future is planned out, not by law or anything, but it may as well be. Dad will lose it. And Mom. She loves Lawrence. Suddenly the kiss in the hall feels reckless, selfish, even. On top of all that, Jackson is an Ancient. If Dad knew I’d fallen for one of them…well, I may not have a future at all.

  I make my way to the orchards out back, stalling for time, hoping I can think up what to say to Dad. Mom is a bit more romantic. She might understand. Dad cares about nothing but obligation. He’ll view my decision as a mark against me, as though I’m one of his staff instead of his daughter.

  It’s a nice day, full sky with a slight overcast, which makes everything look peaceful. I’m jealous. I wish the clouds would cover my worries, shadow them with white fluff so I no longer care, or at the very least no longer think about it. Everything with Jackson gave me a moment’s pause to think of something other than the attacks and the risk of war, but soon, I’ll be back at the lab with Cybil, face-to-face with the horror.

  I try not to think about it. One thing at a time. Besides, if Dad kills me then there’s nothing I can do about the rest anyway.

  Gretchen spots me from the hill and breaks into a huge grin, which I hope means she and Lawrence talked. “Hey, hey, hey!” She pounds the space beside her, telling me to get up there, to no doubt discuss what we couldn’t earlier. I release a long, relieved breath, feeling giddy.

  “Soooo?” she probes before I’ve even reached her. I look around. Good, we’re alone.

  I wonder if I can get away with, It just happened. Likely not, so I start with the truth. “It was nothing at first. He started working with my dad a few weeks ago. At first he annoyed me, but slowly things…changed.” I smile, remembering how angry I was when I saw him in Dad’s office for the first time. Now for the lying. I sigh, wishing I could just tell Gretchen the truth. “Dad started having him over for more detailed trainings at home. He would stay for dinner, come over on the weekend. Before I knew what happened, I’d fallen for him. I never imagined he felt the same way until we danced at the ball.” I glance nervously at her, but she just grins back, not picking up on the lie at all.

  Gretchen won’t let me stop there. She wants details, each question causing my cheeks to grow hotter. What he smells like. What he kisses like. What he looks like naked.

  “What?! I don’t know!” I shriek, but my eyes scan the orchards for Jackson and find him staring up at me, a giant smile on his face. I can’t help but smile, too.

  Mackenzie sprints across the field, her blond hair and golden skin dancing in the sun. Jackson notices her a second too late. He turns just as she jumps into his arms, wraps her legs around his waist, and kisses him. My chest tightens. He pulls her away, stepping back, his hands moving fast as he explains something to her I can’t make out. She argues back and then speeds to the main gate, racing up the hill, Jackson on her heels. She reaches me, her face a combination of anger and hurt.

  “You,” she says.

  I stand, preparing to defend myself if I have to, but Jackson steps between us. “Leave it, Mackenzie,” he says.

  “Leave it? Leave it! You are all I have and you’re ditching me for this?” She motions to me. I open my mouth to say something equally mean, but then I shut it back. She begins to cry and then sob. “I… You… Please.” Her round blue eyes, drowning in tears, plead with him to change his mind.

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson says, and the finality in his voice makes the whole thing even more painful to watch. I thought their relationship was all for show, but maybe it was real to her, maybe even real to him at some point.

  Mackenzie’s eyes flicker to mine and back to Jackson, a slow smile forming on her blotchy face. “Hmm. Well, then. I think it’s time your family knew about this.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he whispers.

  She laughs and returns her attention to me. “Time to meet the parents. Or should I say grandparents. Good luck. You’ll need it.” And she’s gone.

  I turn on Jackson. “What was that about? Why is she so upset?” Then I remember where we are and grit my teeth together in frustration. I want answers, but I can’t ask more with all these people around.

  “Later?” I ask him.

  He releases a long breath and rubs his hands over his face. “Yeah…later.”

  An hour later, Jackson and I sit in Dad’s lobby. Cybil messaged me that today’s training would be intense, resurrecting the sickness in the pit of my stomach. I tell myself over and over that no matter what I see, I can handle it. I have to. We need the information to stop this and I plan to get it today. Of course, that’s assuming I get to train once Dad finds out about Jackson and me. I know I have to tell him. I can’t risk the news reaching him from one of my professors, but still, I wish I could just hide it. At least for a little while.

  Jackson places his hand on my knee. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just thinking.” I place my chin in my hand and lean against the armrest. The lobby feels cold and emotionless. The flooring is a brown composite tile that brings the only warmth to the room. Hidden doorways and passages line the composite wood walls. I can only imagine what’s behind them. There are three elevators on the floor—the main elevator, the Chemist elevator, and then one for Parliament.

  It dawns on me that I’ll be working here in another year. Op training begins the moment I graduate high school, and then I’ll be assigned fieldwork. Traditionally, for someone like me, that’s research and development, sort of like what Cybil does, but there’s still a chance that I could be sent to fight, especially now. Those calls used to be rare—uproars in rural areas, maintaining our borders, or policing. But everything’s changed and regardless of what happens, life on Earth will never be the same.

  I don’t want to think about it anymore. Now is technically later, so I decide to push the Mackenzie thing. “Why did Mackenzie get so upset earlier? I thought the thing between you two was all for show.”

  He tilts his neck back as though he needs a second to think through what to say. “She’s an old friend who hasn’t really gotten over that we
’re only friends. She sees you, a human, as beneath her. I’ll talk to her.”

  “So what did she mean earlier with the comment about your grandparents?”

  “Remember how I told you that she was sent to assist me?” he says. “Well, she was sent by my family. She’s threatening to tell them about you, but I don’t care. I’m tired of doing exactly what they want, when they want, all the time. It’s my life.”

  I start to ask him more when the Chemist elevator springs open.

  Dad closes in on us faster than expected. His eyes dart from Jackson to me, and then like some super lens, zoom in on our interlocked hands. “Explain.”

  I drop Jackson’s hand and stand, swallowing hard. “Dad…um, see…we’re—”

  “You’re what?” Dad says, his eyes landing on Jackson.

  Jackson stands beside me.

  “Jackson and I are…together, Dad,” I manage to finally say.

  His face bucks and sours and grimaces. “Impossible. You can’t—” His jaw sets and I can tell he swallowed what he wanted to say. “You’re to marry Lawrence. You know this. There are no changes in plan. Forget whatever this is,” he says, motioning between us. “You’re not allowed to be together with anyone other than Lawrence Cartier.” And he turns to leave.

  “No,” I scream after him.

  He stops cold and spins around. “No?”

  I walk forward. I want Dad to see my face. “You’ve trained me to think for myself. Act for myself. For the good of the country. I’ve always behaved as you want me to behave. I never deviate. But not with this.”

  His chest rises and falls, his eyes burning a hole into me. He glances over my shoulder to Jackson. “You have exactly three seconds to get out of my building. Do not step back in until I’ve decided what to do with you.”

  Jackson edges forward. “Sir—”

  Dad shoots him a lethal look and walks around me toward Jackson. I try to block his path, but he has a clear head over me and his eyes never leave Jackson.

  “My daughter apparently cares for you. Do you her?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jackson says. “I do.”

  Dad’s gaze turns deadly. “Prove it. Her future is set. Surely you realize you can’t give her what Lawrence can. If you care about her, really care about her, then walk away.”

  All feeling leaves my body as I look up at Jackson and see the logic enveloping him.

  Then Dad turns on me. “Cybil will arrive soon to take you to your training for today. You are to go with her. You are to listen. You are to act as I have raised you to act. Understand? Now, this has occupied as much of my time as I am willing to give it.” He shoots Jackson another menacing look before turning back to his office. “I expect you out of my building, Mr. Locke. Effective immediately, you are no longer part of my program.” And his office door closes behind him before either of us can utter another word.

  We both stand, staring at each other. I knew this would be bad, but I had no idea it would be this bad. Cybil rushes from her office, her expression changing from worry to shock as she takes in Jackson and me.

  “Ari…” Cybil turns her head just enough to let me know something is wrong—very wrong. Then she stands tall and addresses the Ops who have arrived to guard Jackson. “Remove him from the premises. At once.”

  My mouth falls open and I feel like there’s something I’m missing. They can’t know he’s an Ancient. They would arrest him, they would…I don’t know. But the way they’re acting, it’s as though they do know, or maybe they suspect. No, they wouldn’t just let him leave.

  Jackson nods toward me, shooting me a weak smile, before leaving without another word.

  CHAPTER 20

  Cybil motions for me to follow her, but I hesitate, staring at the spot where Jackson stood just moments before. If it weren’t for the strategy, I would have left with him, but I can’t risk the only chance we have of stopping this.

  I try to clear my mind and prepare for whatever horror lies in store for me today. Cybil notices my distance and turns around. “Are you good? I need you focused today, so if not let me know and we can catch up tomorrow.”

  “No, I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I sound more sure than I feel.

  She smiles widely. “Great, because the first stop today is the training room.”

  My head snaps up. “The Operative training room?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m guessing you’ve never been?”

  I follow Cybil down the hall to the main elevator. I wait for her to press a button, but she turns to face the back wall. She flattens her hand against it, causing a silver scanner to pop out, and swipes her keycard. The back wall slides open like the double elevator doors at the medical center. Cybil motions me forward, her demeanor switching from carefree to rigid.

  The elevator dumps us onto a landing with two sets of stairs, darting down on the right and left. The landing overlooks a giant room broken into four sections, where a dozen or so men and women stand in line at each end, none of them a day over twenty-five—the cutoff age for Operatives—but most look younger, maybe eighteen.

  Cybil starts down the right set of stairs. “As you’ll see, the training room is broken into four stations. Combat, weaponry, resources, and limits. Traditionally, the stations are designed to test agility and strength, but today, we’re experimenting.” She stops in front of the first station to the left, where a group of ten men and women circle around a guy in the center wearing a headset. I assume he’s in limits and experiencing a simulation, but then his body begins to shake and he falls to the ground. A Lead Op rushes over to him, jerks off his headset, and starts yelling at him that resistance is key to survival.

  Cybil tsks. “I designed that one myself. I had hoped they would be responding better by now. “

  “It’s a simulation, right? What are they seeing?” I ask.

  She smiles with pride. “The program simulates the Taking. The trainees feel as though they’re being Taken to death, but I did extensive research before I approved the program for use. Their vitals aren’t changing. It’s all psychological, which is the point of limits. We have to act in spite of fear, never succumbing to it.”

  I can’t help hearing my dad’s voice in her words. It’s something he would say, likely something he did say. I peek at the boy as he steps back into line. His face hangs in disappointment, and from this distance, I can tell he’s shaking. I wish I could tell him how pointless it is to be afraid. If the Ancients want him dead, he’s dead. There’s nothing this training can do to prevent it, which I suppose is why Dad always said we had less than a minute to figure out how to kill the enemy. I always thought he said that to scare me into working harder. Now I know he was just trying to prepare me.

  Cybil and I move on to the next station, which I can only assume is combat, but instead of two people in the center of the mat, there is only one, and she seems to be fighting herself. “What’s she doing?” I ask after several seconds of watching.

  “We believe the Ancients have force-field technology that they could use during a war,” Cybil says. “Here, we have a minor one in place—static, really—that gives a brief shock when a trainee passes it. To leave the mat, she’ll have to use her other senses to weave out of the force field, like a maze. We depend too heavily on sight, which I believe is our greatest weakness.”

  Now that one I’m sure I’ve heard Dad say. She’s like a younger, female version of him. The thought sends chills down my back. One of Dad is enough.

  Cybil moves on to the weapons station, where trainees are testing guns and knives I’ve never seen before. I study each of them with interest. I’m about to ask about a flashing trick knife that some tiny girl studies when it whips out of her hand and flies through the air toward us. I snatch the knife moments before it would have jabbed into Cybil’s face, flip it into my other hand, and throw it at a knife target ten yards away.

  “Bull’s-eye,” I say, unfazed.

  Cybil’s eyes burn into me. “What was that?” she ask
s, a strange excitement in her voice. But before I can answer, her phone buzzes and she smiles widely. “We’re done here. Time for the main part of our training.”

  A few minutes later, Cybil and I stand outside lab three. My heart races in anticipation. I have no idea what I’ll see inside the lab, but I can tell by Cybil’s demeanor, it’s going to be big.

  “Before we go inside,” Cybil says, “it’s important that I reiterate that this information is classified. No one can know what you’re about to see.”

  “Of course.”

  She slides her keycard at the door and then presses her right thumb into a jelly-like square beside the scanner. Her photo fills the scanner screen followed by the words: ADVANCED OP CLEARANCE.

  “Ready or not, what you’re about to see may change the way you think.”

  “The way I think about what?” I ask.

  “Everything.”

  An alarm sounds through the labs, signaling the close of regular business. It must be about five. I fight off the chill in my back and the nervousness in my stomach. I steel myself, readying my mind for whatever they throw at me.

  We step inside to a room full of white-coat Chemists. The room is different than it was before. There are ten large T-screens against the left-hand wall, each with a Chemist in front of it, studying data I can’t make out. The screens flash continuously and then one of the screens flashes to a face, then the next screen to a different face, and before long all ten screens show the face of an Ancient, all different, all ages. Cybil nods for me to follow her over.

  “Marique,” she says to the Chemist on the end, a female with bright red hair and fair skin. “This is Ari. We’re observing today. Can you show her what you’re studying?”

  Marique eyes me with a kind smile. “I know who you are. Pleasure to meet you.” She taps her screen, switching it to the data screen I saw before, then clicks on XYLEM LEVELS. A reading fills the screen that reminds me of the heart monitors at the Medical Center. It flows up and down, up and down.

  “It fluctuates,” I say in amazement. “How is that possible?”