by Fonda Lee
More beams of light swung around to congregate on him. Donovan shielded his eyes with his hand. “What?”
“You heard me.” Behind the glare, Donovan couldn’t see the man’s face, only hear the certainty in his accusation. “The shrooms have a kind of psychic link with each other, like birds, or bees. He’s leading them to us. That’s been the plan all along. Maybe they’re reading his mind right now.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever—” Another shock wave cut off Donovan’s reply and made all the beams of light shake.
Max let go of Donovan’s hand and stepped in front of him. “Back off, Javid.” Her voice was deceptively calm, and strong with authority. It made everyone pause, Donovan included. “This is my son you’re talking about.”
A silhouette of a tall woman moved next to the man who had spoken. “Max, you’re one of us, you have been for a long time. We all feel terrible about the boy you lost, but the enemy is standing among us right now, and you refuse to see that.” She looked around at the small group, gathering shadowy nods. “Like Kevin said, your judgment can’t be trusted anymore.”
Max swung her head over slowly. “And you believe him, Kathy?”
The people in the room shifted forward and back. The darkness, the continuing assault on the hillside around them—it made them scared and reckless. The explosions seemed to be coming even more frequently, one after the other, like a series of hellish thunderclaps. “What do we do?” another voice cried.
“No one does a damn thing,” Tom said. “Saul says no one touches him, so no one touches him.”
“I don’t see Saul anywhere, do you?” said the first man, Javid, sweeping his flashlight. “Unless we handle this ourselves, we’re all going to die down here. I’m telling you, that thing is a homing beacon.”
This was getting out of hand. Donovan pushed past his mother and stepped forward with his arms held out. “No matter what you think, I’m not zhree. I don’t have any mental link. I’m not giving away where we are. If this place caves in, I’m as dead as any one of you.” His voice bounced in the tight quarters.
“Doesn’t prove a thing,” spat Javid. “It would be worth it for them to sacrifice one of their pets to get all of us.”
Donovan kept his expression unchanged, though he envisioned grabbing Javid’s flashlight and smashing it into the man’s teeth. “I made a promise not to hurt anyone here, and I won’t. Not unless it’s in self-defense.” He armored hard and fast. “In which case, all bets are off.”
The lights wavered and bobbed as the rebels hesitated. Donovan enjoyed a moment’s grim satisfaction. He was no longer weak, handcuffed, and alone. They were afraid of him, as they should be.
The shape of a weapon rose with Javid’s arm. Donovan heard the click of a safety being released right next to him before Max spoke. “Put it away, Javid,” she said a low, even voice. “Or I swear I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Listen!” Anya shouted. “It’s stopping.”
Everyone fell silent. A low boom thundered in the distance, then faded. Nothing followed.
Endless seconds passed in the darkness. No one breathed. Would the planes come back around? Would the next explosion be on top of them again? More silence. Suddenly, there was an electric crackle and the lights came back on, along with the low hum of generators.
A collective sigh of relief spilled from the group. Donovan squinted against the overhead lights, piercingly bright after the long minutes of blackness. Javid didn’t move, didn’t relax along with everyone else. He had a soft face, brown-skinned with startlingly light eyes, and the muzzle of a short carbine trained on Donovan’s chest.
“They’re gone,” Anya said. She raised her voice, insistent. “It’s over.”
Donovan stood in place, watching Javid’s gaze flicker suspiciously. “I had nothing to do with it,” he said.
Kathy put a hand on Javid’s arm and pressed it down. The menace in the man’s face didn’t recede, but he let his firearm drop to his side. Donovan waited until he heard Max, Brett, and Tom relax their own weapons, then armored down. The air in the room sagged from the broken tension.
The door of the hold slammed open. Kevin’s unmistakable, brutal voice demanded, “Is it in here?”
“Yeah, we got him,” Brett called back.
Donovan turned. He hadn’t seen Kevin since the day he’d come to the Warren. The man’s denim ball cap was pushed up on his forehead, and the skin of his stubble-shadowed face reflected a faintly damp sheen. The sight of him made Donovan’s gut clench in remembered terror, and his fists close in violent longing.
Kevin’s pitiless eyes found Donovan at once. The corners of them twitched. “Are those my clothes?”
Saul strode in after him. “Excitement’s over,” he declared to the room. “Count your blessings—we’re all in one piece, though it’s not going to be pretty outside. Everyone out. Now.” He pointed to Donovan. “Except you.”
People hurried to leave. Donovan saw Javid pausing to exchange hushed words with Kevin.
“You too,” Saul said, motioning Brett and Tom from the room. “Warde, you stay.”
Anya hesitated, as if reluctant to go, until Kevin seized her by the arm and tugged her close. “I can’t believe you gave it my clothes.”
Anya lifted her shoulders, a gesture both defiant and helpless. “They fit.”
Kevin stared at her, then laughed. “I’ll see you later,” he said, bringing his face close to her cheek, as if he were smelling her. “Don’t you worry about anything.”
Anya nodded and left the room.
Donovan’s stomach churned with bile. He could see how some of the Sapience fighters weren’t all bad. Some were sucked in because they didn’t have better prospects. Some were driven by noble, if misguided reasons. Kevin, though, was vain, and cruel, and remorseless. And the way he looked at Anya, the way he handled her as if he had a right to her … I’m going to put you away, Donovan promised. I’m going to see you in a penal camp or an atomizing chamber, you worthless piece of terrorist scum.
When the last person had gone, Max said, “What’s this about, Saul?”
Before Saul could answer, Kevin slapped a hand to his 9mm and swung it up to Donovan’s temple. “Don’t lie, you striped bastard. Did you tip them off? Are they tracking you somehow?”
Donovan turned a cold look on him. “Do you really think I would be here if that were the case?”
Saul casually tapped Kevin’s handgun aside, shaking his head at Max before she could draw her own. “That air strike was closer and more sustained than it’s been before. Doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”
“Javid thinks the shrooms have some way of finding it,” Kevin said. “Like a transmitter in its brain.”
“Javid wouldn’t have any experience with a brain.” Saul tapped his back pockets, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Can’t take the risk, though. We’re moving him.”
Max stepped back as if he’d slapped her. “He hasn’t been a threat at all. He’s kept his word. You said that if—”
“I said I’d give you a chance. I did that, Max. You’re the only reason this shroom pet isn’t dead or in chains.” He clamped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “The plan was to keep moving him, keep SecPac guessing and chasing. We’ve waited too long, letting them get close. We need to protect the Warren.”
Donovan’s mother spoke before he could. “Where are you sending him?”
Saul blew out a smoky breath. “Warde’s set up the details. We’re moving him north, up to Widget’s crew. Sending false leads out in a few directions at the same time.”
“Has Widget made assurances for his safety?”
“Not in so many words. I filled her in on the situation. You know her, she’ll leave her options open. I’m not going to tell her how to run her cell.” He slid a sober gaze over to Donovan, then back again. “No one is going to want to hang on to an armored prisoner for long, no matter how valuable. Widget will pass him like a hot potato, until
we can get him out of the country.”
“Out of the country?” Donovan cut in. “Why? You said the government wasn’t bargaining for me.”
“Just because they won’t bargain doesn’t mean SecPac isn’t using you as an excuse to crack down hard wherever it can. We keep you out of their reach, and it won’t be long before the people rise up against their tyranny.” Saul took a hard drag, smoking his cigarette down fast before grinding it out. “Maybe then they’ll reconsider their position.”
“Or maybe they’re not worried about him at all,” Kevin said with a dark look of contempt, “since momma’s keeping him safe.”
Max ignored this. “When are you moving him?”
Saul looked to Kevin.
“As soon as I flip the switch and say go,” said Kevin. “Tomorrow.”
Max straightened. She turned to Saul, her expression pained but resolute. “I’m going too.”
Saul nodded without meeting her gaze. “I thought as much.”
“Who else is coming?” She spoke to Kevin reluctantly.
“To meet Widget’s guys? The fewer the better. I’ll take Brett as a second driver but that’s it.”
“I want the girl to come.”
Anya? Donovan was confused, until he saw Kevin’s smirk. “If it makes you feel better.” Of course; his mother didn’t trust Kevin, certainly not with Donovan’s well-being once they were away from the Warren and Saul’s authority. She wanted someone Kevin cared about within her own reach, as insurance. And Anya might even be an ally; she’d stood up to Kevin on Donovan’s behalf already.
“We’re going up through Rapid City?” Max asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“Then we can arrange a visit with the doctor.”
Kevin paused, one eye squinting. “It’s awful short notice.”
“You can make it happen, though.” Max turned back to Saul, her expression almost pleading. “This can’t go on. Maybe there’s a way … to solve everything.”
Saul looked grave. “You can’t hope for that.”
“We can ask.”
“Sure, why not,” said Kevin suddenly, as if it were all the same to him. “I’d like to see what Nakada has been up to.”
Donovan felt lost. He didn’t know what they were discussing and apparently agreeing to, but it was all happening so fast. He wanted to interject, to demand explanations, but he seemed unable to, struck dumb by the sight of his mother in her element: a senior Sapience leader in counsel with her colleagues. All he understood right now was that they were leaving the Warren tomorrow, both of them.
“One other thing.” Max squared herself to Kevin. She was several inches shorter than him, but she faced him the way a wolverine faces a bear. Her voice scraped nearly as hard as his. “Don’t ever point a gun at my son again.”
A wicked light flickered in Kevin’s eyes. Donovan felt the sudden urge to reach out and pull his mother back; did she not know how crazy Kevin was? The man cocked his head slightly. His voice grew soft and cool, the way it had been just before he shot Donovan in the chest. “The cause isn’t personal, Maxie. If it were my kid, showing up striped and armored? I’d kill him myself, no matter how many bullets it took.”
Max stood her ground, unmoved. “You’re not a parent.”
“‘Sacrifice everything for the cause, because then there will be nothing they can take from you,’” Kevin quoted. “A real patriot wrote that a few years ago. What happened to her?”
“Warde,” Saul growled warningly. He put a hand on Max’s arm and pulled her toward him slightly. “You’re sure about this? We need everyone we can get, especially people with experience. We need you here. You know that.” His voice fell, turned gravelly. “I need you here.”
Donovan’s mother gave a slow nod. “I know. I’m sorry, Saul.”
She moved to hug him, but his large hand caught her by the chin and he kissed her, long and hard.
Donovan was flabbergasted. He had no memory of his parents ever kissing like that. Perhaps, in their better moods, there had been brief, dignified kisses on the lips or cheeks. Nothing sad and passionate, the way Saul and Max were kissing. As if there were no one else in the room. Donovan jerked his gaze aside, his face warming. Even Kevin seemed to squirm.
“Take care of yourself,” Saul said roughly when they broke apart. Max started to say something, but he laid a thick finger over her lips. “Remember, these hills are sacred. You’ll always be welcome here.”
“Saul …” Max started again, emotion twisting her voice.
“Not another word, Max. You say anything to make me think you’re not coming back someday, and I won’t take it well.” Saul’s face was a landscape of tight edges. He jerked his head at Kevin. The two men left.
Max’s shoulders sagged as if all the air had gone out of her. “I’ll take you back to the room,” she said to Donovan quietly.
Donovan followed her through the Warren’s corridors. Neither of them spoke. Some sections of the halls were lit, others were still without power. The people they passed stepped away from them, their gazes cold with suspicion.
When they reached the room that had been his for almost a week, Donovan let out a breath of desolate relief. This small space felt safe, the only place where he hadn’t been hurt or in danger lately. Now things had been shaken up again. Was the air strike a sign that SecPac was still searching for him? He couldn’t let Sapience spirit him out of the country, but what could he do? How could he escape without betraying, maybe arresting, his own mother—this strange, unyielding woman who was leaving her comrades, and the man she loved, for him?
“Try to get some sleep.” She spoke gently to his back as he stood in the room.
He turned. “I’ve read the things you’ve written, you know.”
She was silent for a second. “This isn’t the right time to talk about it.”
“The things you said about exos, about how we’re not human, how we ought to be killed—you believe them.” It was a question, but he heard his voice flatten it into an accusation.
“I do. I did.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “In a war, you wield every weapon you have, including words. Especially words. If what I write convinces one more person to take up arms for the cause, then I’ve succeeded. We can’t win unless we rouse the people to fight. Once a fire catches, it will spread. The people, the masses of unmarked people—they’re like dry kindling. Sapience is the spark.” She hesitated, and he thought he saw a different war being waged openly across her face, laying bare for a moment a bleak vulnerability. “Donovan … exos are a terrible thing, made more terrible by the fact that people willingly allow—no, want—their children to be Hardened. I’m sorry to hurt you by saying it. It’s not your fault at all, not something you had any control over. No matter what, you’re my son. I hate exos, but I love you. I always will. Do you understand?”
His chin moved indecisively as he tried to shake his head and nod at the same time. He didn’t understand her motives, not at all, or how she could condone murder. But he thought he understood caring about someone while hating what the person was. His voice fell. “What’s going to happen to us? What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to take things one step at a time,” she said. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll find a way out of this. We’ll get away from SecPac. We’ll leave Sapience if we have to, even. I would do that, Donovan. I’m not leaving you again.”
Donovan didn’t answer, but curls of relief and dread wound through each other in his chest.
“It’ll be okay. Tomorrow … it’ll be okay.” It seemed to him that she had been saying that a lot lately. “Good night, Donovan.” She pushed aside the canvas flap that separated his room from the corridor.
“Good night … Mom.”
Donovan paced the small room, waiting for Anya to come. His stomach told him it was around dinnertime, but it was a different kind of hunger that made him anxious when she didn’t appear. Thinking about the kiss in the library war
med his face, clouded his mind with anxious desire. But then the image of Kevin’s arm around Anya’s waist, his face near her cheek, would intrude and poison the feeling entirely. It troubled him, how much he’d grown to rely on Anya’s visits to give meaning to the passage of time in this place. Where is she? There was only one guard out in the hallway right now; he could shove his way past in order to go look for her, but after the standoff with Javid, just about everyone in this place would probably welcome an excuse to shoot him.
Donovan sat down on the edge of the bed. The adrenaline of the air strike had snapped things back into focus for him. By tomorrow night he’d be out of the Warren—and away from the neutrality oath he’d sworn to Saul. From here on, the insurgents would try to keep shuffling him out of SecPac’s grasp, holding him out like a lure attached to impossible demands his father would never accept, ratcheting up tension and violence on both sides. Max, for all her rekindled maternal tendencies, couldn’t protect him indefinitely from her fellow rebels; she’d only be placing herself in danger from both SecPac and her own people by staying with him. That much had been made apparent tonight.
Clearly, he had to escape.
He would wait until they were near the border. Hopefully, that would give him time to convince his mother not just to help him but to go with him, to get out of Sapience for good. She was already leaving the Warren, leaving Saul; she’d said she would leave Sapience if she had to. That was an opening he could use; if he could persuade her to give up her criminal ways and flee the country, they’d be able to stay in contact somehow, without being a danger to each other.
It was the best possible outcome he could think of. He might not ever see her again, but she would be safe. She was a terrorist, he hadn’t forgotten that, but she was still his mother. These last several days of being around her had made him remember small things he thought he’d forgotten: the dimple between her eyebrows, the fact that she was left-handed, the way she used to call him “sweedy-dee” and let him do things his father didn’t approve of, like run around with no shoes and skip Mur language class. He didn’t want to see her end up in an atomizing chamber.