“You keep saying you’re one of us, Randall,” Charon says, pushing up his sleeve. Baring the tattoo of a tree cleaved in two by lightning in vivid color. “Time to prove it.” He nods to me. “Convince your girlfriend here it’ll be best for all concerned if she comes with us.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What’s going on?” I look from Charon to Randall to the two Disconnects brandishing stun guns.
Randall’s silence as he stares down Charon sends unease tripping along my spine. Our connection isn’t reassuring either, full of churning conflict and competing loyalties. He committed himself to the Disconnect cause long before I was in the picture. How can I expect him to side with me now?
His gaze cuts to me. <
Charon waves forward two Disconnects, and they take up position on either side of us. “The whole city’s after you. This is for your own protection.”
Guess Aventine decided to officially call in the reserves. I pull up my map but blink it closed a second later. Even if I could find an alternate route away from here, I’m in no condition to go on the run. Not again.
“Why do you care?” I ask.
Charon’s jittery stare settles on me for a long moment. “Because anything getting that much attention from the upper levels is of interest to us.”
I shrug. “Just a misunderstanding with my employer. It’ll blow over soon.” One way or the other.
“Then in the meantime, I suggest you avail yourself of our hospitality. In exchange for our goodwill, I think it’s finally time you tell me about your business at the Henderson Acres warehouse the other day.”
<
And this time I believe him. Randall’s just as shocked Charon knows as I am, a breathless sort of disbelief pressing up against my ribs. >>How did they figure it out?>>
Before he can respond, the rangy black woman standing next to Charon stamps her foot impatiently. A heavy braid drapes over her shoulder. “We need to get out of the open.”
The Disconnect closest to me discharges his stun gun. A test burst, but I still flinch away, angry with myself for reacting to the taunt.
Putting myself beyond the authorities’ reach is appealing, but to turn myself over to the Disconnects? That’s almost as bad, but what other options do we have? The Aventine playbook doesn’t have any answers for me. Not this time.
Reluctantly, I face Charon. “If you want to know about the warehouse, then you need us – both of us – in good working condition to learn more.”
“Of course.” His gaze darts to the empty space hanging above us. There’s no skybridge overhead for levels, but Charon still hunches his shoulders as if he doesn’t quite trust being out in the open. “Let’s go.”
The Disconnects swarm around us as we leave the Graveyard behind. The industrial fringe of the Terrestrial District gradually gives way to cramped residential neighborhoods.
We don’t get far before Randall leans over, gesturing to my face. “Your, um, nose is bleeding.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I fumble with my satchel and stem the flow with a tissue.
Charon eyes me speculatively. “Looks like you’ve had a rough time of it.”
“You have no idea,” I say, trying hard not to think about the blood leaking out of my body.
Randall’s concern burns the back of my eyes before he’s able to tamp it down. <
It’s a bit late for that, surrounded by Disconnects with the curdle barely held in check by sheer force of will. >>Not seeing a lot of other options.>>
He makes a subtle gesture toward the satchel again. <
>>Doesn’t matter. The data’s my responsibility. I can’t risk turning it over to a proclaimed enemy of the client.>>
<
>>I’m not doing this for Aventine. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.>>
He sighs. <
>>That’s way out of line.>>
<
>>It’s not that simple.>>
<
The woman with the braid passes out facemasks to everyone. We’re close enough to a quarantine zone, my palms are sweating. Guess it was too much to hope we’d be avoiding that area. But my immune system can’t take much more with the curdle coming on. I fit my mask over my face just in time as we pass into the zone, my implant flaring with warnings until I acknowledge them all.
Rik sighs when I don’t respond. <
Creating a safe space where they can avoid interference from the authorities while they plot against the upper levels. I marvel at the ingenuity of turning the city’s protections against illness to their advantage. Just because they aren’t connected doesn’t mean they aren’t smart. They’ve been underestimated for too long.
I force my legs back into motion. My stomach trembles. My eyesight dims. At first I think it’s just my booster not adjusting to our surroundings as we speed through a series of twisting alleys. They do need recalibration sometimes. But no. It’s me, the curdle coming on strong. My world narrows, until there’s only room for me and Rik and each step we take.
>>Tell me what it’s like outside.>> In case I don’t get another chance to ask. In case I don’t get fully scrubbed in time.
His flash of surprise at my question fades as quickly as it appears. <
Vaguely, I’m aware of the Disconnects’ alarm at our shambling pace. I must look a sight. Despite the dark scowl on Rik’s face, he keeps talking, his voice in my mind where it should be, a balm on my brain.
<
My shoulder rams into a pillar that I didn’t realize was there. I catch myself on the knots and whorls carved into the concrete tree trunk, buttressing an elevated section.
“Shit.” The next thing I know the street’s upside down as Rik bundles me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
I have Rik in my head and Randall around me. If it weren’t for the curdle, I’d want for nothing.
“What’s wrong with her?” Charon demands.
“We’ve been on the move for forty-eight hours. She’s worn out,” Randall says, as if it should be obvious.
Charon grudgingly returns to the front of the procession, and Randall’s arms tighten over me. <
>>Haven’t thrown up yet.>>
<
I close my eyes. On my city map, little blips of light representing me and Rik move through the Terrestrial District. A wave of nausea crashes over me. I clutch Randall’s shirt and battle it back, breathing through my mouth.
The thumping of my blood in my ears subsumes the ambient noise. My world narrows some more. No more pattering of feet on concrete. No rustling of clothes and satchels, the jingles that blare from the storefronts. Just my blood and Rik’s thoughts. Just…
<
“I’m OK,” I say for the benefit of the Disconnects watching.
His frown deepens as he loops his arm around my shoulders. <
“The break did help.” I take an experimental step forward, Randall hovering beside me. So far so good.
“Can’t be much further,” he says. We’re taken into a rundown bar occupying the corner frontage of a building that rises all the way to the Canopy. The lone bartender doesn’t react to our entrance as she polishes the concrete bar top with a rag. Bypassing the front room, we’re led down a short hall, then a set of stairs. My headache flares at all the screens depicting different feeds across the city, covering the basement walls. Most of them are centered on areas in the Terrestrial District and the Understory, places that have seen high Disconnect activity the last few days.
Homebrew tech litters the tables, along with touchscreens full of schematics, old computers, and data sticks. At our entrance, the four individuals manning the room look up. They eye me and Randall curiously, then shift their focus onto Charon. One of them hands him a touchscreen, and he scrolls through the readout with interest.
>>I didn’t realize your friend was such a big player in the revolution. Before today, I’d swear he’s never left his underground home.>>
<
I don’t answer, tired of lying to him.
“You were in the Understory where our colleague was killed,” the woman with the braid says without preamble.
The room quiets around us as though everyone’s holding their breath. I raise my hands, palms out. “I didn’t kill him.”
“But you were responsible for his death.”
“No, that would be the woman who shot him.”
“Could you identify her?” someone else asks.
“I was more focused on getting out of there alive.”
“Come now.” The woman taps her temple, making a mockery of the gesture. “You want us to believe your implant didn’t identify her?”
“She did something to my signal and wiped my cache.” I give Charon a significant look. “As you already know.”
Charon exhales loudly. “Denita, I think we should just lay everything out on the table.”
Her eyes widen at his interruption. “She isn’t one of us.”
“Doesn’t matter. Not any more.” He turns to me. “Emery – can I call you Emery? When you met me before, I was simply doing Randall here a favor. That’s what friends are for.” His smile dims. “But then I realized Aventine’s missing courier and you must be one and the same. Luckily I put a tracker on you both when you swung by my place. Just in case.”
An aura of pain haunts my vision at the news. We’ve been screwed since the beginning.
<
>>It’s OK. You couldn’t have known this was all tied together.>>
“You were told to deliver a dataset two days ago,” Charon says. “Our operative was supposed to encourage you to not attend that meeting, but there were some unanticipated complications. How am I doing so far?”
I resist the urge to look at Randall. It’s my call, whether we deal straight with Charon and his allies or continue to go it alone. I know I wouldn’t have gotten this far without Randall’s help. Just as I know we’re running out of things we can achieve together, when each hour the curdle makes me weaker. The temptation to set down the burden I carry in my blood blurs my vision. But I have to remember these people wouldn’t have much sympathy for me if I didn’t have something they so desperately wanted.
Charon waits for some reaction from me, but I bite the inside of my cheek, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. Charon’s gaze flicks to Randall, but he stays silent as well.
The woman steps toward me, a knife suddenly in her hand. “If you think we won’t cut the information out of you, you’re mistaken.”
Charon rolls his eyes. “I already told you, Denita, she’s clean. I checked her out myself before I knew who I was dealing with.”
Rik’s bemused relief filters across our connection. <
>>And it needs to stay that way.>>
He disagrees, but I don’t have time to address it before the woman whirls back to me. “Then where’s the data?”
She slashes at me shallowly, trying to scare me into talking, but I’m not having it. Grabbing her wrist, I dig my fingers into the hollow place between her wrist bones. It’s all I can manage at this point. She winces at the havoc I’m wreaking on the pressure point there and drops the blade. Everyone who isn’t Randall or Charon reaches for a weapon.
“It’s someplace safe,” I say. “You think I’d just let anybody have it after what happened?” The woman wrenches free of my grip, sucking her teeth. Gradually the tension in the basement drops low enough that civil conversation’s possible again. “Besides, I have no idea who or what the data’s for. I’m only supposed to deliver it.”
“That’ll be hard to do with the entire city hunting you.”
“Doesn’t matter. At this point, my employer’s security protocols mandate that the data’s destroyed, regardless of what it’s for. We also have reason to believe someone high up in the government’s working very hard to keep the situation from coming to light.”
Charon frowns and snaps his fingers. On one of the wallscreens, the woman who masqueraded as the client at the botched drop appears. I’m there too, but my face is pixelated into obscurity. “This was the last image our operative was able to broadcast before…” Charon points to me. “Look familiar?”
“If you want to blame someone for the death of your colleague, start with her,” I say.
Charon crosses his arms. “She’s Joan Sheridan. She’s been an aide to the secretary of Economic Development for years.”
My gaze flies back to the screen. “There has to be some mistake.” Her hair’s styled differently, her clothing crudely printed, compared to the buttoned-up woman I remember from my first job with Aventine… That’s right. There was something about her voice that seemed familiar. But I didn’t make the connection at the time, not without my implant to help connect the dots.
“You know her?” Randall asks.
I blink rapidly, trying to ease the ache building up behind my eyes. “Early on I did a job for them. Data transfer for a housing development in the Terrestrial District struggling to make a go of it since they wouldn’t rent to Disconnects. But how this relates to everything…” I shrug.
“It may not,” Charon says. “But what we do know is entries in the public registry have been tampered with. But we can’t prove it, not after that attack on the records facility the other day.”
“But everyone thinks you’re behind the attack.” I shake my head, then regret the corresponding throb in my temples.
Randall nudges my shoulder. <
Wordlessly, I acknowledge his concern, but keep my attention on Charon.
“We make a good scapegoat. We’ve always made a good scapegoat.” For a moment, he loses his manic energy, and a flash of weariness clouds his eyes, stoops his shoulders. “Anyway, once we get our hands on the data, thanks to you, we’ll have a better idea what we’re up against.”
I stare into his gaze, for once still and fixated on me, but his fathomless eyes hold no answers. “I can’t let that happen,” I finally say.
Denita tenses, along with the other Disconnects.
I raise my voice, ignore the cold sweat on my brow. “But I won’t turn the data over to Sheridan or anyone else at the Department of Economic Development either. The fairest way forward is to bring it to the City Council. Only they have the authori
ty to handle something like this.”
Denita shakes her head. “Unacceptable. They’ll bury it like everything else.”
Rik presses a tissue into my hand. My nose’s bleeding. Again. <
>>The data’s supposed to come first, not me. This isn’t negotiable.>>
I tremble as I face Charon and the others. He watches me carefully. “You won’t help us?”
“I’d be helping everyone if you’d let us go.” My voice’s slightly muffled as I blot at my nose.
He scoffs. “Why would the City Council suddenly start caring about us when they haven’t bothered for decades?”
“The data breach potentially affects everyone, not just you.”
Randall steps closer, a steadying hand on my arm. I’m losing it. <
I blink a few times, marking the worry on Randall’s face. “You promised.” My voice sounds broken, along with the rest of me.
“I lied.” Heedless of the stun guns pointed at us, he gently steers me to the nearest chair as though I’m made of glass. I’m too wiped out to fight him, all my reserves burned up in my face-off with Charon. Rik pulls the scrubbing kit out of the satchel and lays it on the table.
Charon waves off the guns and hovers over Randall’s shoulder as he sets things up. “That’s how they do it?” He eyes me with newfound appreciation. “I knew you had more secrets.” He gives Randall a pointed look. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
Randall ignores him. He gestures to the kit. “Does this look right?” he asks me.
“Mostly. Hand me that medical cuff.” He does, and I point to the small button. “You press this to locate the vein.” I move on to the needle slot, hand shaking. “This is where my blood will enter the tubing for scrubbing.”
I take a deep breath, my vision darkening for a long moment. >>There’s no guarantee the kit’ll be able to crack the government’s encryption, so you’ll need to collect a pint of my blood just in case.>> The encoded immune cells already make up a small portion of my blood, and they’ve been self-destructing for hours. >
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