I walk down the aisles of shelves filled with organized boxes and files. It looks like how I imagine a police evidence room must be. Everything is a mess, but somehow also in its rightful place.
Rory has a box at her feet and a manila envelope in her hands. She’s sifting through papers and unceremoniously tossing the useless ones on the ground.
Maya scrambles behind her picking up the dropped files and reorganizing them back into the box.
I throw out my arms in a victorious gesture. Rory barely looks up. She grabs another handful of papers in one hand and tosses them aside. In the other, she splays two between her fingers and her eyes flit over them quickly.
“I’m in!” I tell her and that gets her to drop the documents she’s reading.
“Julia gave you the all clear?” she asks hopefully.
“Yes! I’m going with you and we didn’t even have to plot another elaborate escape attempt.”
She hugs me, “That’s fantastic news, babe.”
“Knew it,” Skylar says, rounding the corner with a box in his hands.
“Another one?” Rory sighs. Her fingers spasm. She was definitely not made for a desk job.
“Shh!” A girl with a high ponytail hisses as us. Then she meets my gaze and her expression pales before she quickly buries her nose back in the books.
I give Skylar a sidelong, apologetic glance.
Rory snorts, “Prude,” before going for the second box.
Skylar snatches the box from her before she can undo the tape securing the top. “I think it’s time for a break,” he tells her.
“I’ll take over,” I offer.
“Do you even know what to look for?” Maya calls me out.
I grimace, “Not exactly.”
“I’ll be in the greenhouse,” Rory says, backing away quickly before I can change my mind and beg her to stay.
“I’ll show you,” Skylar says, picking up one of the folders and propping it open on his arm. “Right now we have the email records from Westerfield over the past few weeks. Now, he knows The Revealed can track his communications so he’s most likely only corresponding face-to-face or via some sort of code. We’re not the first to go through these files, but a new set of eyes can’t hurt. Look for any sentences that seem out of place or any correspondences that don’t match up.”
“So you’re telling me, we’re looking for some sort of hidden message that may or may not be in any of these emails, that we may or may not be able to decipher.”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“It’s not unlikely,” Maya pipes up.
The girl with the high ponytail gives us another pleading glance to be quiet.
Maya shrinks and lowers her voice, “He’s done it before. It was an email that first led us to believe he was attempting to assassinate your parents. The letter was coded so that the first letter of every other word, was a letter in the real message. It ended up spelling, ‘Atwood attempt. Gala invite,’ or something like that.”
I think back to the gala, flecked over in my memory with gold glitter thanks to my dress and the little shards of glass that reflected off the fabric as they rained down.
That moment seems like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. I am no longer the girl that fears The Revealed as some sort of terminal cancer I can’t avoid. Or the girl that cowers in the wake of some glass shards.
I’m also not the type of girl who runs away from a challenge. I’ll find the needle in the haystack. We have to find it….
With a huff of breath, I take the papers from Skylar and begin sifting through them.
I have to force myself to read through the conversations, knowing that most of the chatter is useless. In fact, the only thing Westerfield seems concerned with these last few weeks is planning campaign stops in the North American colonies. No wonder my parents felt such a need to make some last-minute stops.
It doesn’t take long before I’m throwing the papers on the ground just like Rory. The threads of doubt weave their way through my veins.
And then I stumble on an email correspondence that catches my eye.
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Marg,
I have a keen interest in Pennsylvenia. Please consider an endorsement that would allow our mission to reach through the people and into our future endeavors.
All the best,
Roderick Westerfield
________________________________________
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Dear Roderick,
I’m not sure our visions align on the matter of controlling the Capital. Please be advised that when it comes to reaching the spiret of justice for the people, I believe we can best accomplish this through what lies with the compromise of independance.
________________________________________
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Thank you, Marg. Perhaps my campaigning efforts would be better focused on Marylend then.
________________________________________
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Yes. I believe that is your best course of action, sir, but remember, campaigning in one state will not win you the election.
________________________________________
Something strikes me about this particular email string.
“Have you read this?” I ask Skylar.
His eyes are glassy when he looks up and shrugs. “Probably. I feel like I’ve read through these boxes a hundred times.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.” He takes the paper and looks over it. “Sounds like good old Marg is going with her gut and not trusting the creepy bastard.”
“That’s the thing,” I say, “Marg endorsed Roderick Westerfield after the gala at my house. My mother was pretty put out about it. This email was written only a couple weeks ago.”
He laughs, “Good for her for having a change of heart, then.”
But something doesn’t sit right with me about the correspondence. “This isn’t right.” I tell Skylar.
“Keep it then. We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary so go with your gut.”
I set it aside and continue shuffling through the stack in my hand.
It isn’t until Rory returns to collect us for dinner that I realize we’ve spent the entire afternoon holed up in this small section between shelves.
Skylar grins at me when he sees my exhausted expression. I do feel dazed and try to rub away my blurring vision.
“Come on,” Rory grabs my hand. “It’s time to let the next round of troops take the lead. We have a big day to prepare for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Waking and realizing that it’s already Sunday morning isn’t a pleasant feeling. It’s overwhelming. This is it. Today I will return to Capitol City.
It’s only been two and a half weeks, but I feel the change in my bones. I’m stronger. I lie in bed and snap my fingers. A flame sparks over my thumb. I stare at it for a moment before shaking it out.
Rory is already up, and she throws open the bathroom door. She has a towel wrapped around her head and another cinched at her chest. “Good morning,” she calls. “Rise and shine! We’ve got to get this show on the road.”
“How can you be so chipper?” I ask, feeling terrified for a whole host of reasons. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. Will we be able to stop the assassination attempt on my parents?
But I can’t allow myself to think like that. I have to pull it together. There isn’t another choice. I force myself out of bed.
Julia has given us street clothes—simple dark jeans and a tank top—so we won’t stick out on land. I slip the outfit on and walk into the hallway. It’s abuzz with life despite the early hour. People mill around in the halls, whispering to one another. A freckled boy with white-blond hair meets
my eye. He smiles at me, but then turns and begins talking under his breath to the girl next to him. It’s Maya. I wave hesitantly, and she returns the gesture. She mouths, Good luck. She won’t be going on the mission with us.
I meet the others down in the east wing where we will depart an hour from now. Outside the glass-enclosed control room is the launch waiting area.
There are six of us surfacing, and we’re meeting two more members on shore.
“How are you feeling?” Julia rests her hands on my shoulders. “You look pale.”
“I feel a little sick,” I admit.
“Good,” she says and nods. “If you weren’t nervous I’d say there was something wrong with you.”
I bob my head up and down, taking deep breaths.
“I’m glad you’ve come to us, Lily,” Julia adds. “You have the potential to accomplish great things. Don’t miss it by focusing on your worries.”
Rory comes up behind me and touches my shoulder. She smiles and says, “It’s time. They’ve opened the doors to load the submarine.”
I give Julia one last hopeful nod before I turn and follow Rory aboard.
None of the members on the submarine have any weapons. We don’t need any. We have our minds. The only thing each of us carries is a backpack of supplies—a cell phone, some food—in case we get separated from the group. Most importantly, we each carry a folder packed with copies of the incriminating documents. If one of us gets caught, at lease the others have a chance at completing the mission. Hopefully it’s enough to convince my father of Westerfield’s intentions.
One of the members of the crew takes my bag. He’s a few years older than I am, with a shaved head that doesn’t do a good job of hiding the mark on his neck.
He sees me staring at it. “My job doesn’t require me to wander the streets on missions, just power this beauty here,” he gives the submarine a love tap.
“Oh,” I can’t muster anything else.
“First mission?” he grins with crooked teeth.
“Yes.”
“I’m Kellen,” he offers me his hand in a firm shake. “Welcome aboard,” he gestures for me to come inside like an emcee introducing a show.
The submarine is lined with blue-tinted windows rimmed in silver chrome. Beyond the windows, I can see the bottom of the ocean. We descend a ladder from the top hatch into the vessel, which is separated into three main compartments. The captain—a boy who doesn’t look much older than I am and is probably skinnier—sits in the middle compartment. The two compartments on either side are stocked with snacks and lined with plush couches. I sink into one of the cushions on the left.
I sit next to Rory, who sits next to Skylar. Nero and Romni grab a couch across from us. “I just can’t wait to see the look on Westerfield’s face when he realizes we’re there!” Romni smirks.
“It’s a little early to be cocky,” Rory warns.
“Confident,” Romni corrects.
“Agreed.” Nero stretches back across the seat, resting his hands behind his head. “Ten bucks says Westerfield goes running for the hills as soon as he finds out The Revealed’s there.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Rory raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never met the guy before. He’s creepy, and….”
My mind begins to focus on the upcoming mission. All I have to do is find my father. My goal is to talk to him, convince him to stay out of the spotlight. If you asked me ten years ago if talking to my father was difficult for me, I would have laughed. Talking to my mother, yes. But my father and I understand each other. He values my opinion, seeks it out. Well, at least, he used to. Things changed when he declared his run for office. Now, I don’t know what he’ll think.
“Earth to Lily.” Romni waves a hand in front of my face.
My attention snaps back to the present. “Sorry. What?”
“Westerfield,” Rory says, “creepy?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to recover. “Yeah, he’s … bad.”
Everyone stares at me for a moment longer before diving into the next topic of conversation. Skylar gets up and sits down next to me. “Hi.”
“Hello.” I smile back.
“Listen, the other night when we were talking—”
“Oh, you mean between the times when you were knocking me to the ground … yeah.”
“Yeah, that,” he laughs.
“I expect a rematch in a few months.”
“Deal. So that means you’re staying then?”
I open my mouth to reply, but the response falls short. I don’t know what to say. Am I staying with The Revealed? At first, I wanted to go back to Capitol City. I convinced myself that’s exactly what I was going to do. Now, it seems like I’d always been waiting for The Revealed to take me. Almost as if it was my destiny.
Luckily, I’m saved from answering when the submarine suddenly shudders. We’re slowing down, nearing the shore. The hatch eventually pops open topside.
Nero and Romni are the first ones out, practically sprinting up the ladder, followed by the rest of us.
The sun hits my eyes, and I blink against the rays, shielding my face with one hand. I look past the blinding light to the blue all around me. The sky looms overhead.
The sky.
I blink again just to make sure I’m really seeing blue above me instead of shiny steel. There are soft wisps of clouds floating above.
“Come on.” Skylar offers his hand to me, and I slide off the submarine into the water.
The ocean laps at my skin, beckoning me back into its depths. I look over my shoulder. There are only waves behind me. No hint of an entire facility hidden below the surface.
I wade to shore after the others. Rory immediately goes to the trees just beyond the sand, running her hands through the leaves. The branches come alive beneath her touch, dancing and sprouting small buds. Rory is a tough girl, that’s for sure, but as she walks through the trees she looks graceful. She’s in her element.
Romni sprints down the beach, spreading his arms and catching the wind on his fingertips. “Freedom!” He acts like we’ve been in some sort of underwater prison. The way he runs about reminds me of a five-year-old in the midst of a sugar rush.
“Some of us don’t handle being cooped up at the facility very well.”
Skylar eyes Romni as he sprints around shooting up the water with his abilities and yelling, “Wa-hoo!”
I look back at the water and swallow hard. Somehow being on land makes me feel exposed and vulnerable.
The submarine crew unloads our packs. Kellen hands me mine with one last wink. “Make it happen, Lily.”
I muster up a confident, “I will.” And take the backpack.
These simple black bags will be our lifelines for the next several days. Trucks are parked ahead, waiting for us just beyond the trees. They will take us to Capitol City, a two-day journey because we’ve docked on the shores of the Texas wastelands in the Gulf of Mexico.
Skylar volunteers to take the first driving shift. I sit up front while Romni and Nero occupy the back. Rory jumps in a different truck.
To occupy myself on the road, I draw out a document from my bag. It’s the email correspondence between Marg and Westerfield.
I study the words:
Please be advised that when it comes to reaching the spiret of justice for the people, I believe we can best accomplish this through what lies with the compromise of independance.
What is she talking about? Spiret of justice. Independance.
I rub my head. There are pieces here I’m just not seeing.
“What are you staring at?” Skylar asks.
“That email I showed you,” I mutter.
“Still? I really doubt Marg Lansing is buddy buddy with Westerfield in his assassination plans.”
I sigh, unable to completely disagree. But, if these past few weeks have taught me anything it’s, “You can never know who to trust.”
“You can trust me. The Revealed, that is.”
I look at him, un
sure how to respond. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I notice just how handsome Skylar is.
“Get a room!” Nero pipes up.
Romni snorts.
I completely forgot they were in the backseat.
I look away. I like Skylar but don’t want him to get the wrong idea. We’re just friends. He’s been so helpful while I’ve transitioned to being with The Revealed, but my heart is still back in Capitol City with Kai.
Skylar turns around in his seat and glares.
“What?” Nero shrugs innocently.
We continue driving, following Rory until it gets dark. We have enough gas stockpiled in the back of the truck to get us to the North American Sector. There aren’t exactly gas stations in the wastelands, only long stretches of destruction. Crumbling buildings, where people once lived and worked, are now surrounded by miles of barren land. Sometimes the roads are blocked and we have to find a way around, but for the most part, the drive is flat and easy. Everything around us is completely deserted—nothing but ruins and dirt.
There isn’t anything exciting about the wastelands. I used to think they were full of mystery. They aren’t. The only words to describe these empty areas are sad, lost, and silent. Everything is still except the rumble of the truck’s engine. Even animals have abandoned these places. Once in a while, I spot a bird flying between buildings. That’s the only movement. Otherwise, it’s dead.
We pull over so Romni can drive for a bit, and I get into the backseat, leaning my head against the window and letting my eyes drift shut as I try to imagine what these places must have looked like twenty years ago—sprawling and magnificent, bustling with people and production. Each city with its own personality as though it was a living, breathing organism. I imagine a shopping center here, an apartment complex there, vivid colors instead of the dismal gray monotone that now stretches out as far as the eye can see.
I sleep for a decent amount of time because when I wake up, we are in a city. It’s still dark outside, but it’s apparent we’ve made it to the colonies. I check the clock. We’ve been traveling for over seventeen hours. My legs are stiff and my back has cramped from sitting so long.
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