inDIVISIBLE

by Hunter, Ryan

  CHAPTER 13

  I hadn’t meant to walk home, but habit kicked in, and I found myself a block away before I realized where I’d gone. I stopped and stared, lights glowing from the circle of glass barely exposed above our yard.

  She sat in there now, waiting for me to return or hoping I didn’t while tearing apart my room to figure out where I’d gone so she could report me—I wasn’t sure which.

  I wanted to confront her but knew now more than ever that seeing my mother was suicide. Not my mother, I reminded myself, Sofi. My mother was dead—had been since before I could crawl. But how could my father not tell me? How could they play the parent role so convincingly that I had never even suspected?

  And what of the neighbors, did they know Sofi had married my father when I’d been a baby or did they think she was truly my mother? Perhaps they’d even moved to this neighborhood after they’d married. I didn’t even know and that bothered me more, not knowing my parents, their history.

  I stepped forward, no longer caring who heard or what they did to me—my mother needed to know how I felt, how she’d hurt me and my father. One more step and a hand clutched my forearm, bringing me to a stop before dragging me the other direction.

  “It won’t help anything, Brynn,” T said.

  I tried to shake him away but his grip felt like a vice around my arm. “She lied to me, T. She lied to my father and I’ll bet you anything it’s her fault my father’s dead.”

  “Your father loved Sofi,” T said.

  I shook my head. “She was a spy. They sent her into my life because of my father’s job so she could report back to the Alliance. She wasn’t my mother, just some Alliance official doing her job and pretending it was her life.”

  T dragged me around the corner toward the shopping district, walking so fast I couldn’t speak until he slowed.

  “They had my freaking house bugged, T. They had me bugged. Why did they need to throw in a spy?”

  T tried to hush me but I refused to listen. “I have to talk to her.”

  He stopped me and pivoted so he could search my eyes. “She’s not there.”

  A dog barked, and I flinched. “Then we wait until she gets home.”

  T’s eyes softened, his eyebrows growing together as he scrambled for a way to explain. “Your parents were in love, Brynn, but that conflicted with Sofi’s assignment. The Alliance suspected so they bugged you. They needed to make sure Sofi hadn’t gone rogue, and they needed to track the people your father had talked to at the office. His death has been in the planning stages for years now, and not Sofi or your father—or you for that matter—could have stopped it.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “It’s in the book.”

  “I didn’t see all that.”

  “I think you just quit reading before you got to the good part.”

  “The good part?”

  He released my arm, and we walked beside one another now, our pace slow, ambling. “The part where he said he trusts her with his life, where he’s in love with her, where he explains that the reason she won’t talk about the Alliance is because she’s protecting you and your father—the part where Sofi’s scared about what will happen to you if they do go after your father, and he has convinced her to let you go on your own before they take you too.”

  “My father knew they were trying to kill him and did nothing about it?”

  T reached for my hand and pulled me toward a lilac bush, farther from the street and the sun and the other pedestrians. “He tried everything,” T whispered, “and he left you his notes so you could pick up where he left off.”

  I turned from him, the lilacs heaving their perfume into the air, adding to the illusion of utopia. Flowers bloomed as children picked at the petals, giddy from sunshine. Bicyclists pedaled past, and I prayed they wouldn’t recognize me, though that was doubtful as the Alliance went out of their way to discourage people from turning acquaintances into friends.

  I understood that process well enough, having been transferred from one school to the next like all the other kids, making new friends every few years and not having enough time outside of school to keep up the old friendships. It’s like they feared what people would begin to believe once they had time to sit and talk out their theories with others, like Sofi had done. Chills raced along my arms as I thought about the woman kissing my father passionately when she thought nobody was looking, her hand sneaking under the counter to squeeze my father’s knee, and that look she always gave him that had made my heart melt and me believe that I was the luckiest kid in the world. T was right. My father and Sofi had been in love.

  But that didn’t mean it was right to keep secrets from me, did it?

  T took my hand and began walking again, slowly, to blend in. “What would you have done if you’d known?”

  “I would have been upset but I’d have gotten over it.”

  “And the Alliance in the meantime—as they sat listening into your rants against Sofi—would have realized that their spy had crossed boundaries. What do you think they would have done then?”

  I wanted to be mad at him, just because he was here, trying to make me understand when I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t be. None of this was his fault, and my gratitude for his help overwhelmed the anger, as did the music faintly hovering near the shopping center. Designed to relax and rejuvenate, the concoction of symphony and synthesizers now made me anxious. I didn’t want to think about logging today’s exercise in my PCA as I suddenly had the desire to do, and I didn’t want to look up a recipe for baked salmon just because the grocer had an abundance of them.

  “Feeling fishy?” he asked and I knew he had caught the urge too.

  I nodded and asked, “What about Sofi now?”

  Citizens grew thicker now, more mothers pushing their children in strollers while others read from their PCAs near the fountains where their children played. Three women giggled over a light supper when one woman asked the others, “Did any of you jog this morning?”

  We skirted the fountain while T’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, his voice soft and caressing. “My guess is she’s being held in interrogation before being assigned to the Section Twelve factories.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He silenced me until we exited the shopping district, safe in meandering neighborhoods once again. “When I lost you at the Alliance building, I couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d go besides your home, so I’ve been waiting for you. I saw a blond man and a woman enter about an hour ago, carrying an infant. A young boy walked beside them.”

  “My house has been reassigned?”

  He shoved his fingertips into his pant pockets and shrugged. “That’s what it looks like.”

  I sat heavily on the curb, my heart sinking. “It’s been a day.”

  He dropped down beside me, kicking his feet out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. “I doubt they’ve moved in yet. They were there ten minutes, maybe, and then left. But I think they like the place.”

  “Then I really have nothing left, do I?”

  T leaned into me. “It’s easier when you know there’s something familiar left behind, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  He tapped the backpack and said, “At least you still have a piece of your father with you.”

  “While you have nothing,” I whispered, thinking of how selfish I’d been not to think of his losses.

  “I’ve had more time to adjust than you.”

  “Doesn’t make it any more right,” I mumbled.

  T just said, “She still loved you, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, thinking I should feel heartbroken but giving into anger instead. It would be easier to keep going if I clung to that instead of pity. “I hate them, T.”

  He pulled his feet in close to the curb and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hate who?”

  “The Alliance. They’ve stolen everything from me that they’re going to. From now on
, they’re going to have to fight me for anything else they want to steal away.”

  T cleared his throat, clasped and unclasped his hands. “That’s how your father felt … and you see where it got him.”

  “I’d think less of him if he’d given in.”

  T stood and pulled me to my feet beside him. “Then it’s time to fight, Brynn. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Chills struck and I shivered visibly. “Almost. First we have to find Cray.”

  T grinned and the dimple in his right cheek made a rare appearance. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  I cocked my head and fell into step beside him. “Why does that grin look like trouble?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I lifted one eyebrow and cocked my head. He ignored the motion and said, “Someone broke into the Alliance offices today, broke the back door window out. There’s extra security at the doors but they didn’t notice the jimmied window in the back alley.”

  I caught my lip between my teeth as the information processed. “So we can get in?”

  “We can get in.”

  My heart tingled, and I gave a little squeal. “I honestly didn’t know if we’d make it this far. So, what happens once we’re in?”

  “We find out where Cray lives.”

  I shoved T playfully, my arms wobbly. “How do we find that out?”

  “Personnel files.”

  “No details, huh? Just do it, and give me the good news afterward, will you?”

  He took my hand, a crease of worry in his forehead before he turned it to a smile and said, “That’s how I do my best work.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I stopped T before he climbed through the window. His golden hair reflected the one security light at the back end of the parking lot and his brown eyes were nearly lost in the night. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said.

  He grabbed my shoulders and whispered fiercely, “What are you talking about?”

  “Cray. We can’t involve him.”

  T’s hands tightened on my shoulders. “Cray’s father is dead and Cray lied about his relationship with his father because he knew the Alliance was listening during the mourning. Don’t you think he has a right to be warned that they may be after him too?”

  I didn’t want to live this way anymore, wondering who may be on a kill list and what my responsibility to them was—and what if he wasn’t in danger. Was it fair to disturb his life for a hunch? “Do you really think he’s in danger?”

  T dropped his hands from my shoulders. “Anyone associated with the men killed in this building is under suspicion. Don’t you think Cray talked to his father like you talked to yours?”

  “I hope not, but we can’t know for sure.”

  “Then I think there’s a pretty good reason to believe his life is in danger too.”

  I let go of his shoulders and threw my hands in the air in surrender. “Then let’s go,” I said. “I don’t want the Alliance to get their hands on anyone else if I can help it.”

  T placed his fingers under my chin and brushed the tip of his thumb over my bottom lip. His eyes softened, and his lips parted to speak. I waited but instead of speaking, he slipped his thumb away and turned toward the window. The building looked like concrete from where I stood, the window nearly chest high for me—not so much for T as he stood at least eight inches taller. His long sprinter’s legs made me feel a bit stubby as he opened the window and lifted himself on the sill. He worked his legs around, sliding feet first. As he disappeared inside, his feet made a slight pat on the floor.

  His hand reappeared, motioning me to follow. I took one more look around, placed my hand on the sill and lifted. Pain surged through my right hand, and I fell back to the ground. I’d forgotten how painful it would be to put pressure on that hand. I searched the parking lot for something to use as a step, a pallet near a garbage bin was my only option. I grabbed the pallet, and scurried back to the window. I propped it up like a ladder and climbed. I slipped my feet inside the window and heard nothing. I rolled onto my stomach as I’d seen T do and braced my left hand against the sill as I lowered myself to the floor.

  My heart pounded so hard I didn’t hear my feet hit the floor, and I took several deep breaths to calm the thundering, fully encased now in darkness. I stood still, afraid I’d bump something and draw attention from the guard. T’s feet slid like whispers across the floor, and I waited, hoping for some sort of light source. Seconds turned to minutes, my heartbeat the only sound above T’s occasional brush of clothing or shoes as he searched for a way out.

  I breathed in through my nose, held it three counts before exhaling to keep from hyperventilating. Forty breaths in—a sliver of dim light appeared along one wall. T had found and opened the door. I shuffled toward the light, bumping into him as I neared. He placed a steady hand on my arm and pressed his eye up to the crack, searching the hallway before we left this room, whatever it was. He opened the door further, and I looked around to see shelves with stacks of PCAs. A few more inches and the broken screens of several machines became evident.

  A table along one wall held tools, and a large recycling bin brimmed with broken PCAs. My father had probably recorded the data from some of these. I moved closer when one of the PCAs toppled from a shelf, crashing to the ground in a deafening explosion against the concrete floor.

  Cold tremors cascaded from my fingertips to my toes before T grabbed my hand and bolted from the room. We sprinted down a long, white corridor before we found a second hallway toward the center of the building. Rounding the corner, we found doors on either side of the hallway, windows in all the doors displaying computers and servers. I slowed and tried one of the doorknobs, unsurprised to find it locked.

  “Do you think they’re coming for us?” I whispered.

  T ran back to the corner and peered down the long hallway. He made it back to me in under a second, his hand already ripping into his backpack for a rock he’d gathered in the alley. “They’re coming—three of them.”

  He drew back his hand before smashing the rock through the glass. An alarm peeled, echoing down the vacant hallways, the hard tile and plain walls leaving nothing to absorb the sound. He turned to the door opposite and smashed out another window and another.

  If we get into trouble we create a distraction, he’d said.

  Some distraction. I wondered now how we’d ever get out of it.

  A camera in the hallway recorded us so the guards could track us. T hurled the rock at it, breaking the black dome into little pieces.

  T reached into a few of the rooms and opened the doors as footsteps grew louder down the corridor we’d just navigated. I opened doors opposite, before I fell into step beside him, rounding the corner just before the first guard saw our mess and began screaming into his security radio. We had little time but with the guards searching each of the rooms behind us, we gained a little space.

  Another hallway jutted toward the front of the building and we slid as we rounded the corner, sprinting forward until T grabbed my arm. We slid to a stop in front of a steel door with a tiny window in one corner. He jerked open the door to the stairs and we took them two at a time to the second floor. At the top we stopped, peaked out the window. Nothing moved in the hallway, at least that we could see through the narrow window.

  If anything moved out there, we couldn’t hear it over the whining alarm. T opened the door, and I put my hand on his arm. “Wait—which way is the front of the building?”

  T pointed left. I took a deep breath and bolted after him, running to the end of the hallway before cutting right. We made it to the front corner of the building where T took out another camera.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded and counted back ten doors until we stood outside my father’s office. The door looked just like all the others, a glowing panel on the wall to swipe for entry. T tried the handle before he retrieved a thin piece of plastic from his pocket and worked it
between the frame and the door. Seconds later the door popped open. We rushed inside and closed the door gently behind us.

  A cleaning cart stood near his desk, an assortment of cleaning products scattered atop the cart. A box of rubber gloves was half-empty, and a bin labeled biohazard sat next to the garbage on the bottom tier of the cart.

  My father’s office smelled like ammonia bleach. I moved in further, a blue light from the computer screen lighting the room enough to see the window, our reflections flickering in the glass next to the bullet hole I’d seen from the street.

  I touched the hole, wondering if the bullet that had killed my father had also made this hole ... or if the officer assigned to killing my father had shot twice. I pulled my hand back and stepped away as security officers pulled up to the building on the street just below the window.

  “Backup just arrived,” I whispered.

  T sat at the desk, his fingers hovering over the keyboard—reluctant to push the wrong ones. A sensor reader glowed on the keyboard and a small box flashed on the screen over the glowing background, waiting for a swipe to log us in, but without a sensor, how could we access the files? Even with a sensor it would have to be programmed with the right clearance.

  “There has to be an override,” T said, clicking a few keys to produce dots in the box. I pushed his hands away and bent over the screen.

  “Don’t—you’ll lock us out,” I whispered.

  T stood and scooted the chair behind me until I sat, focused on the screen—the blank box.

  Security searched for us at this very moment, and I sat without a clue as how to access my father’s computer …

  My father had an override key. But what would he have used? I closed my eyes and remembered the times in the woods, the talks, the cryptic messages.

  The alarm made it hard to concentrate and I planted my palms over my ears to dim it. Eight keys, I needed eight keys … Nothing would fit except—I prayed T was right about Sofi—and punched in eight keys.