by Jacob Whaler
When he gets to the last building on the street, he stops, body flat against the glass exterior, head slowly moving to peek around the corner.
There they are, twenty meters away.
Three men and the car. Qaara literally has her back to the Wall, hands above her head.
Jedd glances across the wide street that runs at the base of the Wall. Its elegant construction almost takes his breath away.
Clear as crystal, it’s as if he’s standing on the ocean floor gazing into its depths.
The men have their guns out, trained on Qaara. Their black facial tattoos are visible. She brings her hands down to rest on her hips. One of the men steps forward and places the tip of his pistol against Qaara’s forehead. He tells her to kneel.
She kicks him hard in the groin.
As the man doubles over in pain, one of the other men slams the side of his gun into her forehead. Jedd can see the blood from here. The third man takes careful aim. He’s ready to touch off a round and end Qaara’s life at point-blank range.
It’s as if the men are aware of the hidden cameras filming the action from every angle. They’re setting a scene for a dramatic execution. The whole world will be able to see how Qaara Kapoor died.
No. Not yet.
Jedd swallows. Instinct takes over. Maybe he can appeal to their greed.
“Hey!” he shouts. “Over here.” Jumping into the street, he pulls out his jax. “Don’t mess with her. This is what you want. Loaded with IMUs. You can buy anything you want. It’s yours if you give me the girl." He walks forward, heart beating, holding up the jax in his left hand and the pulse rifle in his right.
The three men smile.
“Was wondering where you were.” The one on the ground slowly stands up. “Get over here before we kill her.”
Jedd approaches, walking toward the car, trying to come up with a plan in the next twenty steps. His mind is a vortex of random thoughts. He waves his rifle in the general direction of the men.
“Do we have a deal or not?”
“Not.” The voice comes from behind Jedd. A fourth man Jedd didn’t see. “Now lower your gun and join the girl. Maybe we’ll decide to let her live.” The man comes closer and yanks the pulse rifle out of Jedd’s hand. "Maybe not.”
Two of the other men rush forward, grab Jedd and thrust him against the Wall next to Qaara.
“Do you know who this is?” Jedd stares at the men with their guns trained on him. “Qaara Kapoor.” He taps the Wall behind him. “She invented this stuff.”
“And now she’s going to die.” The fourth man speaks as he walks closer with his gun trained on Jedd. “Along with you.”
“Before you kill me.” Qaara’s moves closer to Jedd. “Before you kill us, there’s something you need to know. You’ve heard about the gas cloud from deep space closing in on the Earth. It’s full of poison, and it’s going to destroy us all.” Qaara looks up at the buildings that line the road opposite the Wall and points to the sky. “Unless we figure out how to stop it. In four days.”
One of the men brings a finger to a blue dot in his ear, as if listening to some inner dialog. He turns to Qaara. “Stop talking.”
She raises both arms high above her head. “Frank Mercer is waiting for all of you to die.”
All four of the men walk squarely in front with their guns pointed, two at Jedd’s forehead and two at Qaara’s.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jedd notices that Qaara is holding a jax in one of her raised hands. It’s flashing green, the tip pressed to the Wall above her. “I’ve said what I needed to say.” Her eyes pan across the buildings across the street. “Now you can shoot.”
One of Qaara’s hands floats down near Jedd’s neck.
“Now just a minute.” Jedd smiles at the men with guns trained on his head. “Let’s be reasonable. We must have something you wa—”
A faint vibration starts above Jedd’s head. For an instant, the men look up at the jax in Qaara’s hand.
And then she drops to the ground, pulling down on Jedd’s shirt, taking him with her. In a blur, a loud POP erupts from the Wall and a column of water explodes out of its smooth surface. As Jedd stares, it knocks all four of the Peruvian Mafia off their feet and forces them across the street, slamming them into the side of the high-rise apartment building on the other side.
Their bodies slide away in the flood.
Jedd looks up just inches above his head to see the horizontal column of water. No bubbles. No foam. No imperfections of any kind. Just a smooth tube of pure water shooting out.
“How did you do that?” he says.
“I’ll explain later.” Qaara rolls to the side. “Into the car. Let's go.”
They run to the mafia car, still parked with its door open, climb in and drive away.
23
FIREBALLS
“It’s not over. The rest will arrive any minute,” Jedd says.
Qaara sinks into the leather seat. “The rest?”
“I know Peruvian Mafia. I’ve seen how they rule their quadrant of the Fringe.” Jedd slams his hand on the red button on the car-com, putting it into full manual mode and turning the wheel as the car screeches around a corner. “Most reliable thugs on the street. They always send backup to make sure the job gets done.”
“How do you know?”
“They’re perfectionists. Crime is high art to them. Professional killers, with an emphasis on professional. Compared to them, the Tribe are like Girl Scouts."
“The Tribe?”
“Never mind. More Fringe stuff.” Jedd relaxes as they speed past an all-night bar, barely missing a body lying in the street. “That was amazing. How did you do it, anyway?"
“What? The Wall?” Qaara grins.
Jedd nods, barely able to contain his joy at seeing her smile.
“It’s a design flaw I discovered in Graff. EM waves tuned to precisely the right frequency cause the bonds between the carbon atoms to break. With the right algorithm, you can do it with an ordinary jax.”
“Does Mercer know about this?”
Qaara lets her gaze drift over to Jedd. “He does now. He’ll have someone study the film footage and figure it out. If he has time.”
Silent as a ghost, the car flies down a wide avenue that reminds Jedd of a box canyon he once saw in the Dead Zone when he was just a kid. Back then he could only dream of ever making it to the City.
“What about the hole in the Wall?” Jedd says. “Won’t that cause damage to the City? You know, like massive flooding?”
“The hole will be plugged in a few hours. My only goal is to get the world’s attention and plant a seed so they understand how dangerous the Cloud is. Hopefully the video of the whole scene, with everything I said, goes viral on the Mesh before Mercer can stop it."
It’s early dawn. The City will soon come to life. Time to get out.
Jedd scans ahead. “Best to ditch the car before the other Peruvs show up.”
As if in response to his words, a hundred meters ahead, two identical cars appear from side streets on the right and left, blocking the road.
“There they are. Peruvs.” Jedd hits the accelerator. He and Qaara are thrown back into their seats as the car lunges forward, a silent bullet, straight at the two cars.
“Are you crazy?” Qaara says.
“Just doing the opposite of what they expect. Something I learned from you.”
As they approach the cars, men get out of each one and shoot at them with pistols. Small dents of damage appear across the windshield, but it holds firm. One of the men stands casually in the gap between the two cars, right where Jedd is heading. The man holds up his jax.
“Check the back of this car for weapons,” Jedd says. “There’s got to be something in here we can shoot or explode.”
With less than ten meters before they hit the man, he points his jax at them and steps aside.
The instant the car zooms past the man, the car-com goes dead, the engine stops and all the lights go out
. The car slowly coasts to a stop. The door locks engage with a series of four loud clicks.
Jedd tries in vain to restart the car or open a door. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he sees four men running toward him and Qaara.
“What now?” she says, her eyes wide and voice trembling.
“Look for weapons.” Jedd feels the panic rise as he searches for anything to defend himself with. “They should be stashed everywhere."
“What about this?” Qaara pulls a pistol out from under the seat and points it at the window next to her.
Jedd’s hand flashes out. “Don’t!”
Too late.
Qaara squeezes off the trigger. A pulse projectile bounces off the window and tears its way through the car, ricocheting around the inside.
Jedd and Qaara duck until the sound stops.
“Give me that.” Jedd grabs the pistol.
The four men catch up with the car and surround it, guns drawn. One of them pulls a blue cylinder from his pocket. Tossing it up and down in his hand, he goes down on one knee and rolls it under the car.
A metallic click under the car startles Jedd. “Magnetic shaped charge,” he mutters. “To confine the explosion to the area of the car." He randomly bangs on the sides and pushes buttons on the car-com, trying to restart the engine, open a window, a door, anything.
Standing, the man waves and smiles at Jedd and Qaara. All four of the Peruvs run back to their own cars and climb in.
Qaara reaches out to Jedd, fingers wrapping around one of his biceps. “It’s OK. We tried.” Moving closer, she stares into his eyes. "I mean it. Thanks for coming for me.”
At her touch, warmth moves through Jedd’s body. He settles into his seat and pulls her closer. “You’re more beautiful and smarter than anyone I've ever known. I only wish we had more time.”
“Me too.” Qaara’s face lingers precariously close to Jedd’s. They both lean in, eyes closing.
As their lips touch, a massive explosion rocks the car.
But it’s not their car that explodes.
Jedd’s eyes flip open. He looks outside the window where the other Peruvian Mafia cars were a moment ago. All he sees is a couple of bright orange fireballs folding in on themselves as they rise into the morning air. Burnt plastic and metal rain onto the street.
There’s a knock on the window.
Ricky stands outside with a grin on his face, holding a jax.
24
COURTYARD
All the doors hang open, the cells empty.
Come with me.
Wherever Luca goes, a small cloud of butterflies follows her, landing on her head and arms. She kneels in the courtyard of the Institution to study a droopy dandelion growing in a corner in the cracked concrete.
She marvels at its exquisite beauty and hears it call out to her. She answers.
Hold on. I have what you need.
Glancing up through the door into the long hallway, she senses Giraffe walking closer, bringing the water she asked for.
The other girls are playing games in the courtyard, laughing, talking, hugging. Since last night, they’ve been busy taking turns in the Institution’s bathhouse, cleaning off months of grime, washing their hair, putting on fresh clothes. Not just shirts, but clean pants, socks and shoes as well.
Zero is busy in the kitchen cooking an enormous pot of steamed rice and the last of the frozen chicken and vegetables for the feast that night.
Now and then, Luca tunes into Zero’s mind. She can’t remember ever seeing him so happy.
Don’t worry, it won’t last, a voice says.
It’s Rika breaking into her thoughts.
People don’t change. Especially not the ones like Zero, the ones that can’t hear the voices. He’s still the same man who hurt you. You forgive too easily. He doesn’t deserve to live.
Ignoring Rika’s words for the moment, Luca stares at the concrete wall surrounding the Institution. The large metal gate now stands open to the outside.
We all leave tomorrow, she thinks, opening up to Rika.
Where will you go?
Luca considers the question. We’ll follow the voices. Maybe I’ll find my mother.
Your mother is dead. Gentle laughter. Come back to the village. So we can be together again.
Giraffe strides across the courtyard, dodging girls at play, laughing with them, shouting back to them.
“Brought what you wanted.” Giraffe kneels down and hands her a plastic bottle of water. “Look at you, covered in butterflies."
“I think they like me,” Luca giggles and drizzles the liquid onto the dandelion. “There you go.” Standing up, she moves to another plant a few steps away.
Giraffe follows. “Any idea where we’re going?”
“Down the road.” Luca points beyond the gate. “On the other side of those hills.”
“What’s over there?”
“It’s where the voices say to go. The other girls all agree.”
Giraffe sits on the concrete and reaches to pluck a green blade of grass out of a crack.
Luca meets his eyes and shakes her head.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He withdraws his hand and leans back. “I wish I could hear the voices, like all of you. Tell me about them. What are they like?"
A large bumblebee lands on Luca’s arm. She brings it close to her eye.
“All things alive have a voice.”
“What about this rock?” Giraffe reaches for a pebble and rolls it in his palm. “Does it say anything?”
For a moment, Luca focuses her attention on the rock, opening her mind to it, giving it space, inviting it to speak. But there’s only silence.
“Nope. I guess it’s not alive.”
“What do the voices say?” Giraffe tosses away the pebble.
Closing her eyes, Luca listens. A universe of song and sound rotates around her like a slowly shifting kaleidoscope of color. Some of the colors are large and easy to hear, like Giraffe’s mind. Others are tiny and require effort to understand, like the thin blade of grass struggling through the crack in the concrete between her legs. The cloud of butterflies is a mass of soft chatter and joy. The minds of the other girls in the courtyard are distinct and clear. So is Zero in the kitchen.
So is Rika.
Kill him, Rika says. The one you call Giraffe.
Luca gently lets a wall drop down, tuning Rika out.
On the fringe of her consciousness, an infinite ring of ever-shrinking voices fans out. Every insect and plant. With enough time and concentration, she could focus on each one as an individual.
Then there is the Voice, a constant presence in the sky, hanging in the background, shifting and moving, louder today than yesterday. Closer by the hour.
“All the voices are different. It depends on what I listen to.”
Giraffe points to Luca’s arm. “How about the bumblebee?”
Luca smiles at the bee. “It’s hungry. Tired. Scared that you might come closer.”
“And this ant?” Giraffe points at a stray insect moving away.
Narrowing her eyes, Luca focuses on the little fellow. “Looking. For the others.”
“Amazing,” Giraffe says. “They told me that you and the girls were sick. That it was our job to—” He looks away.
“Beat the voices out of us.” Luca moves to another plant. “I know. I could hear what you were thinking.”
“I’m sorry.” Giraffe drops his head into a deep bow. “Sorry for everything."
“I understand. You thought you were helping.”
“What about—?” Giraffe’s gaze goes back to the main building of the Institution.
“Zero?”
“What a funny name. Why do you call him that?”
Luca strokes the bumblebee still on her arm. “Because he had zero mercy.”
Giraffe nods. “He was mean to you and the other girls. But especially you. I couldn’t get him to stop. Will you ever be able to forgive him?"
“I already have.” L
uca’s lips fall into a smile. She can hear Zero’s thoughts as he works in the kitchen, frantic to make a special dinner for all of the girls, but mostly for Luca. The darkness and chaos in his mind is gone. The last of it left him the previous night in her cell.
He’s been healed.
“Aren’t you scared?” asks Giraffe.
“About what?”
“Whatever’s out there. The radiation and toxic waste. Hidden pools of it. This is the Death Grid. What if it kills us?”
“The voices say not to worry.”
Giraffe scraps his finger along the concrete, leaving a thin line in the dust. “It’s hard for me to have the faith you have. To believe in the voices.” He looks up, eyes moist. "No matter how hard I try, I don’t hear them. I wish I could, like you and the rest. But I can’t. It must be beautiful.”
“You can. A few minutes is all you need.” Luca reaches for his hand. “I’ll help you. Just listen.”
She rests on the concrete in a sitting position. Focus comes easily this time. A symphony of sound floats just outside her mind. She opens to it, pulling it all in and sorting it until she finds what she’s looking for.
The butterflies.
Delicate as the lace in their wings, vibrating strings mingle and weave a tapestry of color and sound.
Now to share it with Giraffe.
His mind is an ocean of emptiness and fear craving to be filled. She enters, taking care to keep the symphony of voices hidden within her. Then, little by little, she opens her mind to his, letting the voices bleed through.
He’s listening with intense ferocity, searching for sound, reaching for it.
At first, he can’t seem to hear it. And then, with sudden comprehension, his eyes open wide, pupils expanding, and he nearly falls backward, a wild smile on his face.
Luca slowly opens up until all of the sound surges through his mind.
“I hear it.” His hands come up to his ears. “Hundreds of tiny voices.”
“Butterflies,” Luca says.
A cloud of the creatures float like snowflakes just above his head. He opens his arms, palms up.
“I never knew.”
The butterflies descend and cover him like a living blanket.
Luca observes as the tiny voices stream through Giraffe’s body, filling up the emptiness.