Numb

by Isabelle Carey

  He gives me a pen, the one that must have fallen out of my notebook when I turned. I nod my thanks and stare into his face, a face I would never hesitate to describe as gorgeous—if that's the right word to use in this context.

  He's eying me as well and I don't mind being the object of his gaze. Not at all. Especially since I'm starting to believe that I'm not in trouble. He doesn't know who I am, I remind myself yet again.

  "Are you new here?" He questions me.

  "Yes," I reply. "I'm a new teacher and I've lost my way after the lights went out. What happened?"

  "We don't know yet but we're working on it. It's not common for the Grid to malfunction like that." He pauses briefly. "Do you require assistance to find your way?"

  I nod. "Yes. Can you show me how to get back to the main entrance?"

  His eyes linger on me for a moment. Then, he says, "Follow me."

  As much as I prefer him watching me, I have to get out of this place. Aidan and Lilly have already left so that the techs here can't trace the signal that disrupted the Grid temporarily back to where Aidan's cloaked mobile home was parked. I'm alone now. Alone with the one boy who could make my world feels so special in an imaginary life, or who could send my world crashing down all around me if he discovered my true identity right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Liam

  She told me her name is Chloe Kent. When I return to the command post, I will run a cross reference to double check that she's a new teacher here. I have no reason not to believe her; however, she was roaming the halls seemingly aimlessly after the lights were momentarily disabled. Naturally, that set off all kinds of warning bells inside of my mind and immediately brought out the skeptical detective in me. I only allowed her to leave because I radioed the security station at the front gates who verified her identity. Scanners don't lie but still I like to be thorough.

  When I took over this investigation, I established the command center in the administrative offices, which is near the front entrance into the school building. It doesn't take me long to enter the section of rooms that are filled with tech personnel, monitoring the going-ons around the orphanage.

  I walk over to the nearest tech, receiving a few trivial greetings along the way. She's typing code feverishly into a computer, while flipping rapidly back and forth between camera monitors on the same viewscreen. "I need a cross reference file for an employee," I command her without a hello.

  "Name?"

  "Chloe Kent."

  "One moment."

  I watch as she works to double check every known file that World State has on Chloe Kent, filtering through everything to guarantee that there aren't any anomalies to be found within the data, anomalies that can determine if any of the files are phony. It takes a couple of minutes to reference everything, although the school doesn't have many files on Miss Kent yet, other than her application, resume, background check, and other pertinent information used by the dean's office during her hiring process.

  "Nothing," she tells me suddenly. "Everything checks out."

  I nod and accept this. But I'm still suspicious of the woman named Chloe Kent. Was it just me or did it seem like she was trying to avoid me? I know she heard me when I tried to stop her but yet she turned and walked away. I had only wanted to return her pen and nothing more. But her reaction was atypical. The sight of a White Agent might intimidate an average citizen but not enough for him or her to attempt to steer clear of the agent altogether.

  She was also wearing a butterfly lapel pin on her cardigan. I noticed it immediately when I returned her pen to her. The pin alone has implications of SAFE. But what would a member of SAFE be doing here? What business would she have here if she was a rebel? I doubt that the orphanage would be the first place that the revolutionaries would hit the day they began their so-called assault on the government. Surely, she wasn't scouting out the place. Or maybe I'm just reading into it too much. This entire investigation has been weighing heavily on my mind so much that every little thing is starting to affect me in strange ways.

  Whether or not there's more to Chloe Kent than meets the eye, obviously something happened to shut down the Grid for a few—

  Wait a second . . . .

  Eye.

  Those eyes.

  Chloe Kent's eyes.

  They were hazel, the perfect combination of brown and green, like a desert meeting plains . . . .

  That was her.

  That was her! Charlotte Tatum! I know those eyes well because I've spent the last couple of nights staring into them almost aimlessly, as if I was transfixed.

  The tech is speaking to me, explaining her theory as to what may have caused the brief power outage. But I don't listen to her. I don't want to hear her theories when I know perfectly well that someone hacked into the Grid. A few days ago I would have believed the feat to be impossible, but now I'm wiser and know better.

  How did Charlotte hack into the Grid? I don't know. Perhaps I can ask her that question when I catch her. I think briefly about her possible innocence in Emerson's murder but it's eclipsed by the fact that she snuck into the orphanage and silenced the Grid somehow. That's breaking and entering and a dozen other charges. She still committed a few crimes and I have to uphold the law. Besides, a promotion to the Amber Army hangs in the balance. I could join Sophia again.

  "Assemble a team to meet me at the front gates," I instruct the tech, silencing her gibberish that doesn't mean anything to me right now. All that matters is capturing Charlotte Tatum before she escapes. Or does it matter?

  "What for? Are we under attack?" She evens looks around the room as if expecting rebels to come pouring into the place in droves, bearing dischargers.

  "Charlotte Tatum is here," I say quickly, turning away from her. I flag down a trio of random security personnel. "You three come with me."

  I rush out of the room, with the three of them on my heels, obediently following me without question all because I'm in charge here. As we hurry out of the building and break into a brisk jog up the road, all I can think about is one thing: how? How did Charlotte Tatum pull this off? I know she was in a disguise but appearances can't fool vector scanners. Only techs inside the Core can and none of them would do something like that. Or would they? I'm so confused, watching firsthand as the perfect system I used to uphold start to crumble before my very eyes. Noah Emerson was supposed to be a great politician and an example for the people but yet he secretly conspired with the rebels, which I believe may have caused his untimely end. Agent Ramos used to share everything with me even though he was my superior but now he's withholding information from me. The discovery that the scanners weren't working inside of a place like BioLife on the day that Emerson was shot baffles me. Someone is trying to cover something up but what?

  Perhaps stuff like this has always been going on and I was just too blind to see it. But my eyes have finally opened and I don't know if I like it. Project Lightning still wanders into my mind from time to time and I long to find out what it is. Perhaps this is my awakening like Dr. Cato has mentioned before. Her awakening caused her to change loyalties. What did she find out? Obviously something big because she entrusted the Entity to deliver it to Emerson. Where is that package now?

  We arrive at the gates to find cops dressed in an array of outfits for posing undercover at the orphanage. All eyes follow me as I storm into the security booth to address the uniformed cops manning this area.

  "Has the woman calling herself Chloe Kent passed through here recently?"

  One of them nods. "Yes, sir. She just left."

  It's difficult to keep the urgency out of my voice when I speak again. "Did she leave on foot or by car?"

  "Car. A taxicab. Plate number T-5922."

  I don't even say anything more. He's given me all that I need. It's time for me to pursue Charlotte Tatum but for a brief second I hesitate. I'm torn between my duty and what feels right. Wow. Feel . . . . I'm losing my jacks or is it marbles? Get it together Liam, my bra
in tells me. You don't feel anything. You didn't feel anything when you put your mother . . . . Dr. Cato . . . behind bars. Why should you care about a girl you don't even know?

  Because I do care. I care enough to not see an innocent life lost. Or do I? She's a criminal. It's my job to arrest her and see to it that she receives the death penalty for the crime she may or may not have committed. I care . . . I feel . . . But yet I suppress those emotions with help from the Purge. I have a job to do and a criminal to catch.

  I backtrack quickly out of the booth. Charlotte already has a head start and I need to hurry if I'm going to catch her before she gets away. If she doesn't suspect that we're on to her, then we should have no problem apprehending her.

  I point at the first cop who escorted me from the command center. "You come with me. The rest of you partner up and get into squad cars. We're looking for taxicab number T-5922. We'll fan out and search every adjacent road leading from here. No sirens. Handle this discretely and alert all other patrols if you find the taxi."

  Everyone nods silently and we all move with haste towards the cars parked in a nearby lot. I slide into the passenger seat of a squad car and the cop I pointed out joins me. He uses his thumb print to start the car as only cops and White Agents are authorized to drive police vehicles. After the engine growls to life, we speed off through the gates, the purple lights on the top of car flashing silently.

  I snatch up one of the radios affixed to the dash in front of me and jam the earpiece into my ear. "We're going to head north on 13th street," I speak clearly, after pressing the earpiece once to turn it on. "I want two cars heading east, two heading west, and two heading south."

  All the while I'm touching the windshield in front of me, which activates the power cells inside of the glass. The windshield hums to life like a computer powering on. I contract my fingers in the center of a circular display that appears before me, a display showing the road ahead in exceptional detail. The image zooms in so that I can glimpse the license plates of most of the cars in front of me easier.

  My driver turns right onto 13th, guiding the car north. We weave through the light traffic that grows denser the farther we travel. Most cars move aside and out of way if they can. We run red lights and people stop for us. All the while, we're on the lookout for the taxicab matching the description given by the guard. We pass several taxicabs within the first few blocks away from the orphanage but none with Charlotte inside or the right tag number. The taxi couldn't have gotten too far, not in all of this traffic.

  Then—

  "This is Officer Raikes," a voice chimes into the radio. "We have spotted the correct taxicab."

  "Can you confirm this, Officer Raikes?" I ask immediately, my heart racing all of a sudden. This could be it. The day that we capture the elusive Charlotte Tatum.

  "Yes. The tag is T-5922."

  "Where is your current location, Officer?"

  "Northeast of 13th street, approaching the intersection of Orwell and Winston."

  "Do not engage the suspect until I arrive," I order. "Do not engage the—"

  Too late. "The suspect has exited the vehicle and is on feet. She's running up Orwell, heading east."

  I swear silently, which is something I haven't thought about doing in a long time. The swearword just popped up naturally inside of my head, an abomination. My reaction to hearing that once again the cops accompanying me have screwed up is weird to me. I've learned that cursing is usually conveyed as an emotional response based on studies I have conducted. Some people though like to throw those words around casually as though they are a part of the normal vernacular. Is my reaction natural or casual?

  My companion turns our car right at the next light and we race along down a fairly empty road towards Orwell Street, where hopefully we can head off Charlotte Tatum before she disappears. For a second I consider calling in a few Zeppelins but I want to catch her by myself. And then what? Arrest her or do I let her go after promising to help clear her name.

  The traffic grows dense again when we reach the intersection connecting with Orwell Street. I scan the area for the sight of Charlotte Tatum darting up the road but I don't see her anywhere. Maybe we have already lost her. I suspect she has already cut through alleyways to shake off the authorities chasing her in vehicles.

  "Officer Raikes, do you still have a visual on the suspect?" I speak into the radio after telling my driver to hang a left onto Orwell.

  "Yes, she's heading south now, through the parking lot of an office complex. Tetragrammaton is what it's called, I think."

  I scan the area for the office complex in question and I see a dark figure streaking across the pristine lawn. Past the Tetragrammaton facility, about a block away, sits Officer Raikes's car. Like us, he's stuck in traffic. There's only one way to pursue Charlotte now.

  I unbuckle my safety belt and tell the cop next to me to circle back around and keep me in his sights if he can. I don't even wait for a response. I open the door and take off, bolting up the road inside the narrow space in between the cars that are sitting at a standstill. I have to get to Charlotte before anyone else. With me, she has a chance. If someone else captures her then . . . .

  I propel myself forward, having not moved this fast in a very long time. The wind whips all around me and it's comforting somehow, although I'm not quite sure why it feels that way. I receive some kind of minute enjoyment, however trace, from this until the gravity of the situation returns to me in full force.

  I leap and slide across the hood of a bubble shaped vehicle and I keep running without missing a beat. It's not often that I get the opportunity to chase a criminal like this. I weave through several more cars and then my feet move from pavement to grass. I shoot off after Charlotte as she duck into an alleyway, careful not to alert her to my presence just yet. I can feel a burning sensation creeping up my legs threatening to slow me down. I'm not supposed to feel anything. Not even pain.

  I snatch up the Discharger pistol at my waist as I reach the mouth of the alley. I slow to a trot and push forward. I'm cautious, even though I don't anticipate an ambush from Charlotte. She doesn't know I'm behind her. Not yet she doesn't.

  The alley is darker than the streets that surround it and far quieter. My footsteps echo loudly in the enclosed area so I slow my pace even more. Up ahead, I can make out Charlotte's dark form, sliding across the ground to a squatting position. I ease my way towards her, wondering what she's doing. When I realize that she's pulling the cover off of a manhole in an attempt to escape to the sewers below, I react instinctively. I fire a warning shot.

  That gets her attention and she knows I'm here now. She glances back at me fleetingly, her eyes narrowed. I stare back into an unfamiliar face, although I know who's beneath the mask. For a moment, all time stands frozen. Then—

  "Freeze," I call.

  Of course, she does the opposite. She takes off up the alley without hesitation.

  I trail her, running at full speed again. She is exceptionally quick and agile. She races out of the alley and disappears from sight.

  When I emerge out of the alley, I yell at her to freeze a second time. I also warn her that my next shot will subdue her if necessary. It's a lie but I need her to stop. This chase needs to end before things get out of hand.

  Of course, like before, she doesn't stop running.

  We race along up a busy street, running parallel to the cars zooming past. We're circling back around towards the Utopia River. I can make out the sound of rushing water just off in the distance.

  "Agent Cato," Officer Raikes's voice rings through the receiver in my ear. "What's your current location? I'm about to send in a couple of Zeppelins."

  Zeppelins equals bad news for Charlotte. I can't allow that. I have to stop it if I can, defying I don't know how many protocols in the process. I'm not thinking clearly right now, concerned for Charlotte's safety. Why do I feel suddenly protective of her? Because she's innocent and I know it. What I don't know is if that's the only reason
I want to be the one to capture her.

  "The Zeppelins are unecessary right now," I speak quickly. "I can catch her and apprehend her my—"

  "It's already done," Officer Raikes informs me, much to my dismay. "ETA two minutes. Now, where's your location?"

  Frustrated that Officer Raikes has somehow taken control although this is my mission, I look around for an indicator of the nearest intersection. When I locate a street sign, I tell Raikes, "I'm pursuing the suspect on Proctor Street, heading eastbound—"

  Without warning, Charlotte darts straight into traffic, dancing wildly between moving vehicles and across six lanes. I slow my run and watch as she attempts to kill herself with her stupid decision. But miraculously, she manages with exceptional alacrity, to cross the road without being struck by a car. I only hope I am just as fortunate, as I attempt the same feat.

  Lucky for me, a few cars nearly crashed while avoiding Charlotte. While the drivers figure out the jumbled mess they're in, traffic has come to a standstill in three lanes. I move quickly through those lanes and then through the other three whenever I see a window of opportunity between the cars that are slowing down. When I emerge from the confusion, I find out that Charlotte is far ahead of me now, motoring towards an intersection.

  I run on, my legs burning terribly. "Agent Cato?" I realize that Officer Raikes's voice is coming through the radio again. Up ahead, Charlotte makes a right and disappears out of sight.

  "We're heading northbound past Proctor Street where it intersects with—" I squint to read the road sign ahead "—with Paradise Avenue. Actually, the suspect is heading down Paradise Avenue towards the Old Paradise Bridge."

  "Roger," Officer Raikes says.

  I run full speed onto Paradise Avenue, thinking and searching for a way to cut Charlotte off. She remains far ahead of me, slowing down a little though as she sprints up the inclined road leading up to the bridge. Something dawns on me then and I'm reminded suddenly of Charlotte's flight from BioLife. It's as if I can read her mind and can predict what she's about to do next. I know why she's heading for the bridge and I have to stop her.