by J. C. Hart
"Sure," she said as she exhaled loudly. "I need to go and change some orders I gave. Which dome are you going to take down?"
Madea scanned the map, and pointed to the smallest one, bordering her father's. "This one."
"Right. I'll make sure my people get the gear ready. The sooner, the better." Tahra emphasised the word 'my', but Madea wasn't going to rise to the dig. She didn't want to be in charge anyway, but she knew Tahra wasn't thinking straight.
"I should go with her," Sarai said, pulling away from the table.
"No, give her a few minutes. Madea was pretty rough on her. She probably needs to be alone." Rickard placed a hand on Sarai's arm, stopping her from following.
"She needed to be told." Madea refused to look at the others, refused to feel guilty for putting her mother in her place.
Garrett raised an eyebrow. "I've never seen her so...quiet."
"It doesn't matter," Madea said. "We need to get word to Sullivan to start clearing this dome and the ones around it, just in case it goes badly. Can you do that, Rickard?"
"Are you sure we should trust him?" Rickard grimaced.
"As sure as anything, these days. He might have been working for Father before, but he helped us escape. He knows what is at risk here." Madea shrugged, turning to her sister. "Why don't you go with him, Sarai? I'd hate to split you guys up again so soon."
"Okay. He could use my help anyway." Sarai nudged him with her elbow.
"Something like that," Rickard agreed. "I've figured these maps out and I'm pretty sure I can get there and back with no trouble."
"We won't move forward until we know it's as clear as it can be." Madea gave them each a quick hug and watched them slip out the door.
"They'll be okay, right?" she asked. Garrett slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
"They should be. Your father won't expect this, or maybe he will, but what can we do about it?"
"I don't know. I just feel— I've spent my whole life doing what was right, and this feels wrong. I know it's nothing in the grand scheme of things, but we're changing what life on this planet means. No one has destroyed a dome before. No one has gone against the government like this."
"And I'd put money on it that you've not gone against your father like this before, either," he murmured into her ear.
"No. Never." She frowned. "I know that this is for the greater good. I just wish it didn't feel so bad."
"It'll be over soon enough," Garrett assured her. "Why don't we go and sort out the explosives? Tahra will have everything organized, I guarantee, so it shouldn't be hard to get what we need."
Madea bit her lip, thinking of all the things she should be doing. "I need to check on Jaxon. I want to make sure he's okay."
"Well, you go and do that, and I'll get everything ready." He kissed her forehead then moved away, stopping at the door to look back. "Okay?"
"Yes," she said, though she was feeling less than. She wished he would come with her, but realized that what she was doing was probably the least important thing. "Where are Jaxon and Janae?"
"Head back to your unit, and you'll find them three doors down on the right."
"So close?"
Garrett shrugged. "I figured you'd want to be close enough that you could see them easily."
She smiled, feeling better for his consideration. "Thanks. I'll see you soon." He nodded, leaving the door open behind him. Madea took a deep breath then made her way to Jaxon and Janae.
She knocked, but there was no answer. As she knocked again, panic twisted in her belly and writhed up her throat. She pushed the door open, imagining that Janae had somehow reverted to her pre-Hollowed state and had killed Jaxon in a fit of madness. How could she have left them alone? No one knew whether the reclamation would hold.
But there they were, lying on the floor of the lounge, drawing pictures, trading coloured markers and smiles. Jaxon grinned, springing to his feet as he saw her. "Madea! I wondered when you were coming back. Mum's here!" He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. She pulled back an inch so that she could drop to her knees and pull him firmly against her.
"I missed you." She breathed the words into his hair with her eyes shut, taking in the clean scent of him. Clean and small and perfect. "Are you okay?" She moved back again, letting him sit on her lap, though she noticed her belly was beginning to take up some of the space he normally would have occupied.
"Mum's here, so everything is better. She said you brought her back. Is that true?" His eyes were wide, filled with pride and awe.
"I guess you could say that," she said, then glanced at Janae who was smiling calmly. "And how are you feeling?"
"Still...unsure, I guess you could say. As if I can remember things but some of those things don't seem real yet. Apart from Jaxon." She opened her arms to him and he moved back to his mother. "I can't thank you enough for reuniting us. I might never have seen him again, never known him." She bit her lip, making her look so much younger. Barely old enough to have a child Jaxon's age.
"I'm glad you're okay, both of you." Madea got to her feet. "I'll leave you to it, and come back to check on you as soon as I can. Okay?"
"Where are you going? Can't you stay here with us?" Jaxon held out his hand and Madea grasped it.
"I wish I could, but I've got some things to do. Don't worry though, I'll be back." She bent to kiss his forehead.
"I love you," Jaxon said, his voice soft and sweet. The purity of his words made her heart ache, stirring that portion of her that wished she could keep him just for herself. Still, he was better off with his mother, and he had a father now as well. She would have her own baby soon enough, and Anya was already keeping Madea on her toes.
"Love you, too." The words caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, hoping that she could hold in her tears until she got to the hallway at least. She moved away, closing the door firmly behind her and leaning against it, pushing her palms into her eyes. "It's better this way. It's fine."
Anya fluttered in her belly, and Madea felt a wave of love wash over her. She laughed. "I love you too. Thank you." Her fingers traced the shape of the babe in her belly. "Right. Let's get this over with." She took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, heading down the cool concrete corridor to the armoury.
It seemed too quiet as she pushed the door open. There was no bustle, no action, and it was dark. Madea frowned and reached for the switch. Light flooded the room, illuminating a slumped form, tied to a chair. Her stomach felt like lead as she ran forward. "Garrett, what happened?" She fumbled with the knots as he raised his head.
"Your mother." He huffed, as if embarrassed at the situation. "How many times have you saved me now?"
"Just another day at the office," she quipped.
The rope came free and she stepped back as he got to his feet, rubbing his wrists. "I'll try to make this the last time you have to untie me from a chair." He bent and kissed her.
"You're not hurt?"
"Not enough to worry about. We need to hurry. She's going to blow your father’s dome." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards one of the weapons racks.
"But—"
"No buts. You've always said she has her own agenda, and you're right. She's going for your father. If you want to do something about it, we need to get moving." He grabbed a gun, and handed one to her. "So, what's the plan?"
Madea exhaled, trying to figure out what to do. "Get hold of Sarai and Rickard, help them clear whoever else you can, and then get clear yourselves."
"And your mother?"
"Let me deal with her." She rolled her shoulders, setting aside her hopes of a clean resolution. "She has to be stopped."
"Let me come. The others can handle the evacuation." He grabbed her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
"And have to save you again?" She smiled. "No. This is family business."
"I want to be part of yours."
"After." She pressed her lips to his, savouring the taste of him, drinking i
n as much strength as she could. "I promise." She ran a hand down his cheek then stepped away. "Try not to get into any more trouble." She tossed the words back over her shoulder, her voice light though she was consumed by nerves.
Her breath felt heavy in her lungs as she ran through the tunnels. Thoughts whirled through her mind: fears, worries, half hatched plans and speeches that she'd deliver to her parents. If her father had just spoken to Tahra, had dealt with this situation earlier. Maybe if her mother had been straight with him, instead of playing games and testing him—
Those were wasted thoughts now. They were both angry, both bitter—but who had more to lose? Who felt they had been dealt the most injustice? Madea shook those thoughts free and focused on her journey. She should have grabbed a phone before she left, but it was too late for that now. Too late for much of anything. The best she could hope for was that those she loved made it out alive, and that the fallout wasn't too catastrophic.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
She pushed free of the hatch and bolted from the church, not caring who saw her. There was no time left for subterfuge. Her breath caught in her lungs as she ran, the sharp bite of a stitch began in her side and she pressed a hand to it, trying to choke back a sob. What a mess. All of this.
Part of her wanted to turn and gather her friends, to leave her parents to each other—it was what they deserved, both of them. But the dutiful daughter couldn't ignore all the good things they had done, couldn't stand the thought of those good things being buried in their domestic feud.
She paused at the door to her father’s house, catching her breath in great drags which barely seemed to help. When her heart had stopped racing, she pushed her palm to the panel, waiting as the door slid open.
Madea's gaze skipped across the floor, coming to a halt when she spotted a woman, facedown and still. She rolled the form over, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she recognised her father’s housekeeper.
Madea pressed fingers against the woman's neck but there was no pulse. She ground her teeth together, jaw aching from the tension.
Tahra was here already, and she was on a mission. How far would her mother go to take her revenge? Or was Madea already too late to stop her? She gnawed at her cheek, trying to decide whether to rush into the house now, or go cautiously.
Caution, probably best.
She padded down the hall, stopping at the foot of the stairs to listen but there were no discernible sounds so she carried on to the office. Light spilled out from the crack in the door, and Madea nudged it open with the toe of her boot.
The house shook. A massive boom thundered against her ears and bits of the roof fell down around her. Dust covered her face and she crumpled to the ground, covering her head with her arms and hoping for the best.
For a full minute the ground moved. Her ears rang even after everything had settled, and the silence that had filled the house before was banished, replaced by the groans of the shifting structure.
"You idiot," Madea muttered, wishing she could slap her mother, or something more. She ground her teeth together to stop herself from tearing up, not wanting to think about the chaos this was going to cause. She had to stay focused. Find Carson, find Tahra, and get out of there.
She groped for the railing, pulling herself back to her feet. "Father!" she called, taking the stairs two at a time, coughing as the dust infiltrated her mouth and lungs. "Where are you?"
Madea reached the top of the stairs and scanned the landing before heading to her father's room. A low groan came through the door but she couldn't be sure who it was. It didn't really matter, not now.
She pressed her face against the door so she could listen. "Hang on, I'm coming," she said, hoping the words would carry clear enough. The keypad was wrecked, but she grabbed a loose board and rammed it into the gap, using it to lever the door open. Thank goodness they didn't make them very heavy, or there would be no chance, but the door moved, an inch at first, then a foot, just enough for her to squeeze through, wedging the board in behind her so that it didn't close her in.
"Madea," Tahra groaned, her voice weak. Madea found her under a chunk of ceiling, the plaster pinning her to the ground. There was a thick gash on her cheek, and her arms were twisted at strange angles.
Madea couldn't look at them, focused instead on her mother's face. "Where's father?" she asked, carefully removing rubble from the body.
"Don't worry about him. He's not going anywhere." Tahra coughed, a splatter of blood landing on her chest.
Madea froze. "What does that mean? What did you to do him?" She leaned in, watching her mother carefully.
"I didn't kill him, if that's what you're worried about." Her mother snorted derisively. "Though this will, I imagine."
"We had a deal. We had a plan. Why couldn't you just stick to it?" Madea’s shoulders slumped.
"Because it wasn't my plan! Why couldn't you just be a good daughter and do what you were told?"
Madea swallowed hard. "I'm done being the good daughter. I thought you'd realize that once you’d 'liberated' me from my dreary little life as one of the un-Touched, things wouldn't be the same. I was happy enough you know, before you came along and re-inserted yourself into my life."
Tahra's eyes went wide, her lips flat-lining.
"Don't move," Madea said, pushing herself upright and scanning the room.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"I'm going to find Father. Where did you put him?" She couldn't resist the urge to place her hands on her hips and jut her chin out, a picture-perfect copy of Tahra when she'd still been a real mother.
Tahra's eyes slid toward the bathroom and Madea didn't wait for confirmation. She clambered over the rubble, skidding out as she approached the door, but managing to catch herself on the frame. "Father?" she called, thumping against the door. This one was tightly shut, and no matter how she mashed the keypad it wasn't going to open. "Dad!" she cried, pressing her ear against the door, straining to hear any sound.
A flutter from her belly made her glance up. Through a breach in the ceiling she could see the sky, the sun shining like a beacon without any dome to diffuse its rays. Ether creatures twisted near the gaping wound in the roof, as if they had been called by her distress.
Anya nudged her again, encouraging her to reach out. She closed her eyes, calling silently to them, could feel the slight brush of their tendrils against her skin and she pushed all her thoughts and feelings out towards them, to make them see what she felt.
She faced the door, eyes still closed. "Help me, help me see him." It felt like she was being stretched, though she knew it wasn't true. She pushed hard, physically, mentally, her connection to the creatures so strong that she could feel it as they broached the door, could see her father, lying on the ground, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling, shallow, stilted.
"Oh no, not like this." She clenched her teeth, wishing the door would budge, or the creatures could carry her through, turn her insubstantial like them. She was stuck here, helpless, realizing that nothing that had happened really mattered. No matter what Carson had done, he was still her father, she still loved him, even if she loathed him in almost equal measure.
They should have had time to make up, to set aside their differences, to find a bridge. It might never have happened, but she could tell he was dying, and that death robbed her of any hope of it happening.
And then she knew that there was a slim chance, just a small one. She'd been able to show Sullivan the error of his ways, to transfer her knowledge to him, and maybe, maybe...
Madea fed her thoughts into the ether creatures, stretched with them as they merged with Carson's body. She could feel him recoil, snatching himself back mentally because he couldn't do it physically. She thought of when she was a child, and how they'd had breakfast together every morning. Of the time's he'd pushed her on the swing, and the times when she'd watched him work, loving him even when he was so involved in what he was doing that he barely noticed her existence. She sifted
through knowledge of Anya, his grandchild, and the wonder of the creatures.
She felt him relax for just a moment, satisfied, or something akin to it.
Then he was gone.
Madea let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, pressed her eyes tighter together to prevent any tears from escaping, and waited for Tahra to speak, to break the silence of this moment. Waited for anger to flare within her. But all she felt was defeat.
Eventually she returned to Tahra's side, silently removing the rubble from her body.
"Tha—"
"No. Don't say anything. I can't—" Madea looked her mother in the eyes. She was torn between wanting to save her remaining parent, and wanting to leave her here in the wreckage. But if she could forgive her father, she could forgive her mother. "I’m not ready to talk yet. You crossed the line and I don’t know how we can ever be mother and child again. We can worry about that later though, for now, we need to get out of here."
A single tear fell from Tahra's eye. It rolled down her cheek and shattered against a chunk of ceiling. Madea sniffed back tears of her own, and tried not to think about how many others would need to be dug from the wreckage.
"Madea!" The voice came from the hallway. Garrett tried to jam himself through the door. "Thank God, you're okay." He pulled his back leg through, surveying the damage. "This place is a mess. We've got to get out of here."
As he knelt beside her she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so pleased to see you." Her voice wavered, but she refused to cry here, not wanting her mother to bear witness to Madea's sorrow. She whispered in Garrett's ear, "I told her not to speak to me. She needs to stand trial for what she's done. I need to— Can you..."
"Let me." He kissed her forehead and pulled away.
Goosebumps prickled her skin where the warmth of his touch was leached away by the cool night air invading the room.
"I know you said not to speak, but you don't have long," Tahra said. Madea glanced over to find she'd managed to free herself from a good sized chunk of the debris, though she was still trapped under a beam and made no move to get up.