Lucy slipped her hand into Grant’s and began to lead him in that direction.
“Why is she here?” Huck snapped and he pointed to Lucy, his voice carrying. “I had planned for a private escort—”
Blair began speaking again in hushed tones while Scott and Claude took even greater steps away from the conversation.
“You have no power over this situation, Blair. You are dismissed.”
“Dad!” Blair cried out. “I’m asking for you to listen to me...”
Their conversation resumed in hushed tones. Lucy’s heart pounded.
Lucy reached the elevator and she pushed the button, willing it to arrive faster. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice low. “Grant...”
“I need Ethan,” Grant replied.
“He might be with Cass,” she said. His tone was clear: something bad had happened. Something bad was happening.
“I need Ethan,” he said again. “And I’m sorry, but I think I need Ethan now. I have a letter...”
Lucy nodded.
“Okay. Okay. And can we talk about your letter?” Lucy asked. The pieces of the letter might have still been floating around the library; or maybe Gordy had reclaimed them all and had pieced them back together—reconstructing their private words to each other.
The elevator bell dinged, and they slipped inside. Lucy pushed a random button and hit the door close button over and over.
“And why are we letting them leave?” Huck yelled. He stepped away from Blair, but she put her hand out. Lucy watched as Huck batted her hand away as he stalked forward, the doors closing before he could stop them.
“Grant—” Lucy’s eyes were wide. She leaned against the glass. Grant leaned down and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, he ran his thumb across her cheek. He was crying. His nose was red and his mouth turned into a frown. A tearful, snot-nose kiss was not how she had imagined their reunion. She wasn’t upset; she was afraid.
“I love you, Lula. I love you so much. But you have to take me to your brother.”
The Kymberlin residents already knew Cass, and it didn’t take long for someone to say they had seen her heading toward the East Tower pool. The pool was on one of the top levels of the main tower, and its domed ceiling was pure glass. Quickly, Grant and Lucy made their way to the pool and let themselves in through the clunky metal doors. It was warm inside with hot, stale air. Thick white clouds rolled over the top of them and exposed only brief splotches of blue. Cass was swimming laps in a bright purple bathing suit and a floral swimming cap. She moved gracefully through the water, and Lucy watched her at the edge of the pool, unsure of how to get her attention. The entire area was open and cavernous, and all they could hear was the steady splash of Cass’s feet against the water. It took several laps before Cass noticed them waiting for her, and as she neared the end of the pool, she grabbed onto the edge and ran her fingers over her nose and pulled off her goggles. She smiled, water dripping down her face, and pulled herself out of the pool in one fluid motion.
“Grant!” she exclaimed. “I’d hug you, but...”
Grant smiled and shrugged. He leaned in for a hug anyway. When he pulled away, his clothes were damp and there was a wet circle on his shirt where Cass’s head had been.
“I couldn’t believe when I heard,” she continued. She tugged her swim cap off and her hair fell around her shoulders. “You’ll have to tell me all about it. Sounds scandalous from what I can tell...”
“Oh, yeah?” Grant asked. Lucy thought she saw a glimmer of sweat on his brow. Maybe it was from the humidity of the pool.
Cass wiped some water out of her face and her smile faded. “Well, my father took the call. Sometimes I’m privy to certain things.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Lucy interrupted. “Grant needs Ethan.”
“Have you—”
“We don’t have time to check his usual places,” Lucy said. Kymberlin was the size of a small city. There was no way Lucy and Grant could search for him without knowing where to look. “Earlier today you said you used the cameras to find me and my mom...”
Cass shook her head. “I shouldn’t...I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Steady drips plopped off her body and landed on the cement below their feet. “Once Huck learns that I even know where the camera room is...”
Grant stepped forward and put his hands on Cass’s bare shoulders. She stood straighter under his touch and didn’t back down, her head up high. “You’re privy to things. I’m privy to things. Can we just say that today, perhaps, both of us need to help each other out a bit?”
She bit her lip and shook her head and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve already helped you out...” she said in a dry voice, and she looked over to Lucy, who stood awkwardly on the sideline. “There’s only so much I can do before I’m rendered useless. You have to understand.”
“Ethan,” Grant asked again, unwavering.
“He won’t be able to help you either,” Cass replied. She ducked out from under Grant’s hands and walked over to a small metal bench. She retrieved her towel and wrapped it around her body. Her hair had separated into wavy curls and she bunched it all together and wrapped it up into a ponytail. She had a small bag with her and she reached in and dropped a key on the ground and then walked away.
When she reached the door, she turned and smiled. “It’s so nice to see you, Grant. I’m retiring to my place for the night if you have a moment to stop by and say hello. Oh...and have you seen the Remembering Room yet? Lucy should take you. And after you’re done...you should go to the end of the hall. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
She pushed both doors open with a flourish and left, wrapped only in her towel; her bare feet created a wet path out into the hallway.
When she was out of sight, Grant reached down and picked up the small key.
Lucy walked over and took it and held it in her palm.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
Grant turned. “I do,” he replied. “She’s scared. And she should be.”
Lucy led them past the door to the Remembering Room and to the end of the hallway. She had seen the door before, but hadn’t thought to ask what was on the other side. Inserting Cass’s key, they pushed the door open and found themselves in a smaller room. The place smelled like fresh paint and melted plastic; it was warm and suffocating and dark. Lucy turned on a light near the door and it flickered on. The only thing in the entire room was a curtain and Lucy’s breath caught as she walked over and began to open it slowly.
Behind the curtain was a two-way mirror, and it looked down into a control room. Four or five men and women operated the controls. Moving cameras. They zoomed in on areas, zoomed out. Rotated cameras. Followed people as they walked down the sky bridge. Occasionally, the camera would pause and one of the operators would pick up a walkie-talkie and give directions—dispatching guards, or help, or cleanup.
“No cameras in the homes,” Lucy noticed, scanning the screens.
“But in the hallways. All public areas,” Grant noted. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Why does Cass have a key to this place?” Lucy asked and she peered closer. She could see a camera of Cass walking down the bridge to her room.
“It’s a master,” Grant said, but he was distracted as his eyes scanned the screens in front of them. “We’ll never find Ethan like this. We have to ask someone down there...”
“But...”
Grant looked at the mirror and spotted an intercom button. He pushed it and he could see the operators look up toward them; Lucy walked up to the glass and tapped it. “Can they see us?” Grant shook his head. He motioned for her to be quiet and he leaned close to the intercom.
“I’ve been sent to look for someone,” Grant said. Lucy looked at the faces below. They were talking to each other. Someone clicked through to the room.
“We aren’t authorized to take orders from the observation deck without a visual confirmation,” some
one said back to them. “You can enter the side door and show your credentials.”
Lucy swore under her breath. She kept her eyes glued to the screens.
“I’ll stall,” Grant said. “You keep looking.”
“There are hundreds of cameras.” Lucy took a step forward.
“I’m Ethan King,” Grant said to them.
At the mention of her brother’s name, Lucy looked over to Grant, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “That’s not stalling!”
The observers were silent. Someone leaned over and talked to someone else. There was a flurry of activity. Someone shook his head and snapped to an operator at a desk near the front. The woman punched in a code and pushed a camera button and zoomed in. There was Ethan. The camera said “North Tower: Floor Sixty-Two” and he was sitting on a stool at a sports bar. Lucy didn’t know exactly where it was, but that would get them close.
“We can confirm you are not Ethan King. Want to try that again?”
Someone nodded toward the deck and a larger man began walking up a small staircase toward the back of the room.
“That’s ridiculous,” Lucy said. “I can’t believe that worked—”
Grant tugged her toward the door. “It only works if they don’t send someone to this room after us,” he said.
With their hearts pumping and the adrenaline coursing, Grant and Lucy booked it down the hallway and caught the elevator at the exact moment one of the observers popped out into the hallway after them, his walkie-talkie squawking. When the doors had shut, Lucy leaned into Grant, and grabbed his hand. She felt like they could conquer anything.
The elevator hit the surface and kept soaring upward. She couldn’t calm herself. It felt like the time she had been caught toilet papering a teacher’s house. Mid-throw, the lights had flipped on and her eighth-grade math teacher stormed out of his house with a water gun. It had been a sleepover idea gone wrong, but once they were back at their house, the girls had giggled under the covers until they couldn’t breathe. Excitement, mischief, and the exhilaration of getting away had kept them from sleeping until the wee hours of the morning.
Their teacher hadn’t identified them, but the girl’s parents, who had been hosting the sleepover, made the girls all pay for the missing toilet paper. It was a story Lucy told with pride.
“This isn’t how I imagined your first night back,” Lucy said. “Can you tell me what this is all about? Why are we running around like this?”
“I’m supposed to be dead,” Grant replied matter-of-factly. “If it weren’t for Blair, I would be.”
Lucy froze. She couldn’t find the words to reply. “I don’t...don’t...understand. But Copia...”
“Doesn’t exist,” Grant replied.
“All those people?”
“Dead.”
“Dead?”
“Your father created a secondary virus. It was unleashed it on the Copia crowd while they watched a video from Huck.” His eyes went glassy and he stared at Kymberlin whooshing past them. “That’s what he had been working on…why he never told me what we had been doing in the lab. He knew, Lucy. Your dad knew everything.”
“No,” she whispered. “Grant…”
“I can’t think about it too much…if I think about it too much…” he trailed off.
The elevator started to slow. Their destination approached.
“Why do you need Ethan?” Lucy asked next. She never broke her gaze from Grant. She held tightly on to his hand and refused to let go.
“Because I promised someone I’d deliver a letter. And honestly Lucy...I don’t know how many lives I have left.”
Ethan was right where the cameras had shown him to be—sitting and watching a screen imbedded into a bar-top. It was the World Series game seven between the Yankees and the Diamondbacks. Lucy wondered if Huck had managed to save any professional athletes. She hadn’t heard of anyone famous making Huck’s list. But maybe someday the Islands would boast competitive games with their own teams. Maybe when people grew tired of watching prerecorded history they would demand some sports of their own. The Island Games. It had a nice ring to it.
Ethan’s leg was stretched out to the side, and he glanced at Lucy and Grant as they entered the bar and pulled up the stools on either side of him. He took a sip of a beer and managed to say hello. Lucy and Ethan hadn’t seen much of each other in the past few days, and their brief encounters had left Lucy feeling wounded. But she didn’t feel like she had much time to dedicate to her brother’s moodiness, and so she let his frosty hello roll right off her back.
“Hey yourself,” Lucy said. “I didn’t know about this place. I’m learning about new places every day.”
“Nostalgia Sports,” Ethan replied, nodding toward the marquee outside. “Just another place to remind you of all the things that aren’t the same.” He took a drink.
“Ethan...” Lucy started. She picked up a napkin and began unfolding it, playing with the corners. “Grant...”
“Stop,” Ethan said. “I can tell that tone. You’re here for a favor?” Immediately, he took Lucy’s hand and placed it against the rough exterior of his fake leg. He held her hand there, his palm covering her hand entirely, and didn’t break eye contact, even after she started to squirm and pull away. “This happened to me. You want to hear about it?”
Lucy didn’t answer. She looked back at him, unblinking. He had never offered to tell her about his leg or his time in Portland without her; all of that had remained unspoken. She assumed that he had told Cass, but Lucy didn’t know for sure. While he seemed hostile, or maybe just drunk, Lucy didn’t want him to slip away; she could feel Grant’s impatience on her other side, and she felt torn.
“Of course,” Lucy answered. “But Grant needs...”
“There was a doctor...” he started talking over her. He looked off to the corner, and then shook off some floating memory and looked back to her. “She took my leg and just chopped it right off in the middle of the DiCarlo’s living room. You know them right?” Lucy nodded. “The leg is probably still there. My leg. And I didn’t have this contraption, so I was entirely dependent on these strangers to care for me. Which they did. The entire time.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No,” Ethan interrupted. He stared at the counter. “That’s just the thing, Lucy. You’re sorry for all the wrong reasons.”
Alfonso Soriano of the Yankees had hit a home run. Lucy watched him running the bases on the small TV screen, the other players crawling out of the dugout to greet him, and the Arizona fans remaining stoic as the Yankees took the lead. Ethan leaned over and flipped the screen off. The baseball game shriveled up and went black.
“I screwed up, I know. You don’t know how truly sorry I am. Please. I’m not sorry for the wrong reasons...I’m sorry for everything,” Lucy said with sincerity. She took her free hand and put it on top of Ethan’s hand; it was cold and clammy. Grant stood by her side, unmoving. She could feel his arm against her back.
“They killed them, Lucy. Slaughtered the people who had done nothing but try and save me. They knew their lives were in danger, too. And I—” Ethan closed his eyes. “I should have run away where no one could find us. We all should have left. I was wrong...”
Grant’s leg was now bouncing up and down on the stool, he tapped his fingers on the counter and opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind. His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out a folded up bag. Lucy looked at it, and turned back to Ethan.
“You don’t negotiate with these people, Lucy.”
“Grant has something for you...”
“Ethan,” Grant said, leaning across the counter.
“Our family isn’t the same,” Ethan replied to Lucy, ignoring Grant. “Some things you don’t get back. And it’s just...those people...who died...I cared about them.”
“I respect that this is a really tender brother-sister thing going on...” Grant continued, “and I’m sorry if this is rude...but Ethan, ca
n you please listen to me?”
Lucy and Ethan turned to Grant, and Grant put the folded up airsickness bag on the counter and pushed his pointer finger down on the top, and slid it over to Ethan’s arm.
“From Ainsley,” Grant said quietly.
The bar went quiet. Or maybe it had been quiet before and none of them noticed. Someone at another table was watching a soccer game and the fans were chanting a series of oh oh oh ohs along with the heavy beat of a drum. The bartender, a dark man with a nametag that read EUS One: Chemist, ran a rag over a pint glass in slow, methodical circles.
“Oh,” Ethan whispered, his eyes narrowing. He took the bag and tucked it into his own pocket without reading it. “I...no...that’s not possible,” he mumbled. He kept his hand on his pocket, as if just feeling the note was enough.
“I didn’t read it,” Grant said quickly.
“Ainsley,” Lucy repeated. “Who’s Ainsley?”
“A girl,” Ethan said. He looked at Grant, “Is she—?”
Grant nodded once. And Ethan looked overcome with emotion. He popped himself up off the chair and wrapped his arms around Grant.
“Where?” was all Ethan whispered.
“The shore,” Grant replied. “With Darla...and my dad.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She spun and looked between Grant and Ethan. “What? Are you serious? You waited to tell me all of that?”
“I’m sorry...” he replied, then he turned to Ethan. “Blair knows.”
Ethan stiffened. “Grant—”
“You can trust her. She wants to reunite Darla and Teddy. But...”
Several guards entered Nostalgia Sports, they scanned the bar top and paused when they saw Grant. Walking briskly toward them, Grant looked to see if there was anywhere to run, but they were trapped. Ethan stood up and stood between the guards and Grant. Lucy grabbed his hand. The men placed their hands on their guns and nodded to the bartender who nodded back then switched to drying another cup.
The Virulent Chronicles Box Set Page 103