Gravity (The Taking)
Page 18
Cybil slides her card through the first lab’s key slot. Marique stands in front of the only T-screen in the room. It’s stationed to the right of the chamber, so her head jerks from the screen to the chamber and back continuously. “Doing okay?” she says to me as we near. “I hear you survived your first day of Op training. It can be intense, or so I’m told.” There’s a longing in her voice that makes me wonder if she was a Pre-Op in school but didn’t pass. I hear many become Chemists, since we work so closely together.
I shrug. “It was okay. I’ve been preparing so it was…okay.” I don’t mention why I think we’ve been drafted early. I don’t want her to think I’m afraid, because I’m not—not in the traditional sense, anyway. I’m not afraid to fight. Fighting is easy. I’m afraid that I can’t prevent the fight, and all of this—the early drafting, the testing today—just proves I’m losing that battle.
“So what’s that?” I ask her, pointing to the screen, where a reading is climbing slowly upward.
“Look in there.” She motions to the glass. “This is monitoring his xylem level. Notice how it climbs? We’re about to see how high it can go.” She clicks the sound on the screen, causing a soft beep, beep, beep to fill the air.
The door to the chamber opens and an Operative enters. I recognize him at once—it’s Lane, the same one I fought in the maze. He’s a strong fighter, but he can’t survive against an Ancient. Lane gets into position, but the Ancient in the chamber, a male who has at least a foot on Lane, doesn’t budge. The Ancient smirks then tilts his head up to the glass. “Is this the best you’ve got?” Then he lunges for Lane, tossing him to the floor. He drags his body back to the center of the chamber. “Stand, human. Let’s see what you can do.”
The beeping beside us quickens, growing louder. Marique exclaims, “Cybil, look at this!” She taps the screen hard, the xylem level climbing higher and higher. “That’s amazing. And check out his vitals. They’re soaring. Xylem must fuel energy in addition to healing him. It’s like an energy shot directly into his muscles. I’ve never seen anything—”
“Get him out of there!” Cybil yells.
Everyone’s eyes dart back to the chamber, where the Ancient hits Lane again and again. His speed, his reflexes, all too much for Lane to compete against. The door to the chamber opens and three Operatives race in just as Lane’s body falls to the ground.
“No more one-on-one combat. Do you understand me?” Cybil says to a Chemist beside her. “If he dies, it’s on you.”
She marches from the lab and I follow, unsure what to say or do. I assume we’re done for the day, but then she slides her keycard through the next lab, and we enter to a pungent smell, like singed flesh.
“More electrocuting?” I whisper to Cybil.
“Oh, no. We came up with something better.” She waves a few Chemists out of the way so we can see through the glass on the back wall. Inside this chamber, there are five Ancients—two males and three females. They’re all naked, their skin covered in dark marks that ooze some thick yellow goo.
“What happened to them?”
“Ever heard of spontaneous combustion?” A smile spreads across her face. I grit my teeth together to keep from screaming at her to stop acting like this is fun. It isn’t fun. It’s horrifying in every way.
I draw a breath to calm my anger and say, “Of course. What’s that got to do with this?”
“Everything,” Cybil says. “See, we release a chemical into the air that, once mixed with xylem, causes the Ancients to literally explode from the inside out. Brilliant, right?” Just then a large wall timer to our left hits zero, a second passes, and then boom! The Ancients explode within the chamber; limbs and guts splatter against the walls.
I jolt backward, my hands covering my mouth. Five lives just disappeared before my eyes. This isn’t happening. I fight to remain calm. I can’t get shaken, not now, not when I’m this close to learning the strategy.
“That won’t do,” Cybil says to a Chemist at the T-screen to our right, a lady much younger than Marique who seems as rattled as I am by what just happened. “Clean this up and record the issue. Make adjustments. We need more live subjects.”
“Live subjects,” I say, unable to hold back. “I thought they were Latents.”
“Most are.”
“And the rest?”
“Were obtained. What does it matter?”
“It matters because maybe that is why we’ve been attacked again and again. We stole some of their kind. Didn’t it ever occur to anyone that they would fight to get them back?” I know my words border on dangerous, but I can’t stop myself now. “All of this might have been prevented and yet you stand here, asking for more of them. We should just call Zeus now and schedule another attack.”
“That’s enough,” Cybil says, grabbing me hard by the arm and yanking me from the lab. “They attacked because they are impatient and greedy. The Ancients don’t care whether humans live or die; they only care about inhabiting Earth and to them, their time is now. And you will do well to remember that you are a guest here and a reflection of your father. You are to watch. Silently. Do you understand?”
I shake my head, biting hard on my lip to stop myself from arguing.
“Okay, good. Now on to lab three,” Cybil says.
Cybil enters the room with her head high. She’ll make a great Lead Operative someday, authoritative and void of emotion. I force myself to step to her side and peer down into chamber three. At first I think my sanity is safe, that there is no one in chamber three. Then a buzzer sounds, and a group of ten men and women and children enters the chamber. My mouth drops.
“Wait, those are kids,” I say to Cybil, my voice rich with fear.
“Of course they are. We need to guarantee the weapon works on all generations of Ancients. Some believe the youth are stronger, more able to resist. We have to guarantee full disposal.”
Full disposal. I have to find Jackson now, before—
The wall timer hits zero. My eyes jerk back to the chamber. Nothing happens. The Ancients huddle together, protecting one another, all noticeably shaking. Time ticks by, seconds become minutes. I glance to my watch. Ten minutes have passed.
“Nothing’s happening,” I whisper to Cybil, but it’s a Chemist who answers me. He’s younger than most, with dark skin and dark hair.
“Wait for it,” he says. “This one is magic, Cybil.”
Cybil beams at him, all of our attention trained on the chamber. “This test,” Cybil says to me, “is subtle. We release a neurotoxin into the air that, once mixed with xylem, slowly and systematically poisons them.”
They wanted an airborne tactic that mixes with xylem. This is it—the strategy. A neurotoxin, by its simplest definition, poisons us by impacting our nervous system. It’s something the Chemists in the eco-sector have preached for years, stating that WWIV killed many due to the aftereffects of the neurotoxins released by the nuclear bombs. How smart we must think we are to impose the same on the Ancients.
But this time, the toxin won’t have a chance to kill anyone. I tap my foot on the floor, anxious for this to get over with so I can report it to Jackson and stop all this craziness. I keep my eyes on the chamber, waiting for something to happen, but still, the Ancients look healthy. Hmm, maybe it doesn’t work against them, or maybe their bodies can withstand the poison.
And then it happens.
A tall male with long brown hair begins to cough. The female beside him—petite and beautiful—looks at him, concerned, and then he pukes all over her, soaking her blond locks with an orange liquid.
She gasps; her hands freeze midway to her hair. She screams at another male to help, but before he can move, he falls to the ground, projectile vomiting everywhere.
The Chemists all exclaim around me, taking notes and rocking on their heels, enjoying the scene unfolding before us. I grab Cybil’s arm, prepared to ask her to stop this, when my eyes find the children, gathered in a corner, all screaming and crying. My words cat
ch in my throat at the horror of it. I wonder if the adults are their parents, if this is a family we’re torturing. But Cybil was right; the children seem immune—
Then my thought is cut short by the youngest child, a perfect round face and giant blue-green eyes. He kneels on the floor, shaking and crying, and then a pearly liquid spews from his mouth. I recognize it at once—xylem. It’s as though he’s vomiting blood. Each Ancient falls to the ground in domino-like fashion, one, two, finally all ten, convulsing and jerking in a mixture of vomit and xylem. Finally, their bodies find their way to death.
I race from the lab, running with all my might toward the elevator that leads to Dad’s office, jamming the button several times to force it to close. When it opens, I get off and collapse against the wall next to the elevator, trying to breathe through my sobs.
The elevator doors pop open and Cybil steps out.
“Are you okay?” she says to me. “I know our training can be…difficult on your stomach. You should have told me before that you were sensitive. I could have given you something to counteract the nausea.”
I’m speechless. She thinks I ran off because the scene made me nauseous! What’s wrong with these people?
Cybil looks concerned. “It’s okay if you need to go home early today, Ari. Tomorrow I’ll have the necessary supplements.” She heads to the elevator, going back to analyze the success of lab three. My head swirls; visions swim through my mind.
I manage to make my way out of the building. In my haze, I nearly run into Jackson when I open the door to go outside. His arms are already open for me to melt into him. I don’t understand how he knows, but I rush forward, tears streaming down my face. I’ll never forget what I’ve seen. I’ll never have another peaceful night’s sleep.
“Th-th-they… All of them… You have to help,” I manage to say.
“I know, but it’s too late.”
“No, help them. Please, help them. I couldn’t…” Then my eyes jerk up. “Wait, you know?”
“Ari, I have something to tell you—” But the door behind us opens and an Operative comes out. We are silent until he passes out of earshot.
“Let’s go.” He holds my hand, guiding me toward the tron and away from this awful place that just murdered a family of Ancients.
I’m exhausted in every way, yet I know I won’t sleep. We ride the tron in silence. Jackson strokes my hair and whispers comforting words from time to time. He directs me down the street of my house but stops cold a few houses from mine.
“What’s wrong?” I say, following his eyes down the street, but everything seems normal.
“Nothing. Look, go on inside. I’ll see you later, okay?” He doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Jackson—”
His head snaps toward me, his face fierce. “Please do as I ask for once.”
I recoil, anger and fear creeping into my mind. “But we need to talk. Will this stop everything? It’s a neurotoxin. That’s their strategy. You said the strategy would stop everything. Please just—”
“I’ll handle it. Now, please, go inside.” My fists clench tightly, but I resist the urge to press him for more information and rush into my house. I glance through the front windows to see him planted to the spot, staring down my street. A shudder climbs my back as I realize why he forced me to go inside—someone or something is out there, waiting.
…
It’s one a.m. and Jackson isn’t here. I check my phone and my T-screen, hoping there’s a message. There isn’t. I assume by now Zeus knows about the neurotoxin, and everything will be fine, but then where is Jackson? Something has to be wrong, way wrong. I consider going to the Unity Tree. Maybe he’s there, but something tells me he wouldn’t want me to risk it. Yet I have no idea what I’m risking. I hate this feeling—lost and confused, no direction or hint at what might be wrong.
I lie down in bed, but my nerves cause me to toss and turn all night. Then the nightmares begin.
I’m standing on a balcony overlooking an army, my army. I’m the commander. I can tell by the way they listen to me speak, as though every word is important. Jackson steps up on one side of me, Zeus the other. They talk about our creation, but I have no idea what they mean until one of the soldiers catches my eye. It’s Lane, but he seems…different. I try to figure out what changed when it hits me—he’s no longer human. None of them are. I’m staring down into a sea of people…a sea of half-breeds.
CHAPTER 24
Shouts startle me awake. I climb out of bed and peek out my bedroom door. Dad’s voice drifts up from downstairs.
“No, you’re not interrogating her,” he says.
“She’s a liability,” a man responds. My heart drops to the floor as the voice registers. It’s one of Dad’s Lead Operatives, Oliver O’Neil, who also happens to be Gretchen’s father. “You must follow protocol.”
“Don’t tell me about protocol. I wrote the thing!”
I back into my room, my hands clasped in front of my chest. My room is still dark. It isn’t yet daybreak, maybe six a.m. From the corner of my eye, I catch a continuous flash of yellow from my T-screen. When I click the screen, a message appears from Gretchen.
I’m so sorry.
More shouts carry from downstairs, but I’m not registering what they’re saying. Gretchen is sorry. Her father is in my house and arguing with my dad. There can only be one thing that she would do to me that would require an apology.
I slump onto my bed, staring at the words. Gretchen apologizes, Jackson disappears, and it sounds like a war is happening in my living room, which all must mean—
“Ari,” Dad says as he bursts into my room. “I need to speak with you.” He glances at my pajamas and then motions to my closet. “Put on something appropriate. We have guests.” He storms out as quickly as he entered.
This isn’t good. I take my time showering and dressing. I don’t want to face whatever entourage is down there to question me. I have no idea how much Gretchen disclosed and the last thing I want is to make this worse.
I walk into my family room leery of what I’ll find. I expected a crew of Engineers, but instead there are only two—Oliver O’Neil and Gretchen. She stares at her feet, twiddling her fingers as though it’s too much for her to look at me. I hope it is. I hope she feels horrible for what she’s done. I glare at her, cross my arms, and redirect my attention to Dad.
“Everything okay?” I say.
“No,” Dad says. “Everything isn’t okay. We discovered last night that our offices were infiltrated by a group of Ancient spies led by Zeus Castello’s grandson. Care to guess whom that might be?”
I stare at him in confusion and then a chilling clarity washes over me. His grandparents raised him, yet he refused to talk about them or even say their names. He said they controlled him in ways I would never understand. He said he couldn’t be trusted. And I guess he was right. I am such an idiot.
“Well, let me clarify,” Dad says, his voice hard. “Jackson Locke does not exist. His name is Jackson Castello, the only grandchild of Zeus Castello and the future leader of the Ancients. We have been tracking him for months, suspicious that he was a Latent. Why did you think I requested his early transfer? Did you never question why I would spend so much time with a teenager? A child? Or did you completely allow your feelings to overcome your logic?”
I grasp the wall to keep from falling.
“Then we discovered his true identity, coincidentally the same day that you chose to profess your feelings for him. I requested he return to my office so an analysis could be run for confirmation, honestly not expecting him to come.” Dad pauses, as though he can’t understand even now why Jackson went back to his office. But I understand. Jackson is fearless. He would never have given up on the strategy. He would have died trying to find it if I’d refused to help. Only, none of that was necessary because I handed it to him—along with my heart.
I close my eyes, wishing I could go back to sleep, wake from this nightmare.
“He wa
s assigned to you as a means to get information on me,” Dad continues. “Did you know that? Did you know his specialty is rogue work? Did you know he personally trained every one of our attackers?” I hold out my hand to stop him, but he presses on. “Everything about this boy is poison and you let him seep into your life. I trained you to know better. Instead, you gave the enemy control.”
Bile climbs in my throat as the room begins to spin. He was assigned to me. Me, an assignment. Every nerve in my body seems to die all at once, numbing me. This can’t be true, he wouldn’t… But deep down I know it is.
My eyes drift to Gretchen, and this time she looks at me, pleading with me. I don’t know what to say. I’m torn between my anger at her betrayal and my need for her support. A hole spreads in my stomach, tearing into my chest, but I refuse to cry. I’ve cried enough.
Mr. O’Neil stands. “Sir, she has to be interrogated.”
“She is my daughter,” Dad says. “I will handle this. You and Gretchen may leave now.”
As soon as Dad closes the front door, he wheels around to me, pacing back and forth in the foyer, seeming unable to keep still. “I— You— How could you do this? Did you understand what would happen to anyone else?”
I’ve never seen my dad so disheveled, and the thought that I brought him to this makes my eyes burn. “Please, let me explain.”
“No, it’s done. I assume they broke into our offices to steal the neurotoxin, but they found nothing. I approved it last night. The toxin circulates in our air right now.”
I gasp, my hands flying to cover my face. “No. You can’t. Tell me you didn’t do this.”
“As I said, it’s done. Let them try to attack us now. The toxin will poison them within minutes of breathing it. They’ve lost. So you see, it doesn’t matter what he told you. I have no time for liars. Now go get ready. You will be on time for Op training today. Understand?”
“Wait. You don’t understand. Zeus said—”
He stops cold. “You spoke with Zeus?”
“Well, no, but—”
“That’s what I thought.”