The next day it was the dealer who supplied many of the neighborhood’s residents with their narcotic of choice. “Tasha said they shot him right then and there—didn’t even give him a chance to surrender or plead his case or nothing.”
A few days later, a woman on the next block was dragged screaming out of her apartment on charges of hiding a third child. Unit C swept in to take the baby, and unit E-1 sent the mother to a labor camp on a twenty-year sentence. The two older children, ages five and seven, were left alone for three days before a neighbor found out and took them to a distribution center to get help. The elderly woman who’d gone through the streets spreading that news vanished shortly afterwards.
People stopped whispering after that.
The media continued to spout the same Project propaganda as before, though it seemed especially perverse now that Sonny and others had suffered the consequences of Ryku’s extreme crackdown on crime. Occasionally, the chairman himself was interviewed on various programs. Tripp watched every single one, even though he was always visibly upset by what Ryku was saying. “You know you can just shut it off,” Zira told him as they watched one such interview over supper.
Tripp shook his head and kept his eyes fixed on the computer display. “I want to know what he’s telling people. It’s a good reminder of why I joined the rebellion in the first place.”
Zira shrugged and turned her attention back to the broadcast. The interviewer was prattling on about the Project’s accomplishments while Ryku sat comfortably in a leather armchair that made him seem even more imposing than usual. “We’re starting to see an America that’s safer than it’s been in its entire history,” said the interviewer. “The way you’ve managed to transform this country in just a few short months is truly incredible. It makes me think we should have done this years ago.”
“I’m very proud of what we’ve accomplished,” Ryku said. “Despite the horrific tragedy we suffered with the deaths of the other chairmen, everyone in the PEACE Project rose to the challenge. I knew we needed to make some changes, and we’re already beginning to see the positive results of that. The people I work with are smart and dedicated. They understand what’s at stake, and I consider myself privileged to have such a great team behind me. I also appreciate the cooperation we’ve received from the public as we’ve incorporated these changes. We couldn’t accomplish anything without the support of our loyal citizens.”
The camera cut back to the interviewer. “And what are your plans for the future? Where do you see this country next year or even five years from now?”
“It’s important that we continue our work,” said Ryku. “We’ve come a long way, but there’s still a lot that needs to be done. Our primary objective is to ensure the country is safe for everyone who lives here—that every citizen understands and obeys the laws that create order and stability in our society. Once we’ve accomplished that, I’d like to start focusing more of our efforts on rebuilding the damage that was left behind after the war. Fifty years ago, we had beautiful cities spread out all across this country, and we can again. But as I said, law and order must come first.”
“Law and order,” Tripp muttered. “He forgot the part about ‘under pain of death’ again.”
“I don’t think that would make a very uplifting message,” Zira said.
“I guess not.”
Ryku’s most recent push for this so-called law and order focused on identifying radicals and anyone associated with them. Because of this, Chase had decided to suspend all but the most important rebel operations for the time being and told everyone to lie low. Tripp took those instructions a step further and insisted that he and Zira avoid as much contact as possible with other people. It seemed unlikely that anyone would realize they were part of the ‘radical’ group Ryku was targeting and turn them in to the authorities, but threats of imprisonment and promises of rewards were powerful motivators. They couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
When the media wasn’t broadcasting Ryku’s speeches and interviews or talking about the threats posed by radicals, they focused on the PEACE Project’s upcoming 29th anniversary. Celebrations were being organized throughout the entire country, but Chairman Ryku was scheduled to make an appearance at the biggest event in San Antonio. Similar festivities had been held for the Project’s 20th anniversary, but never in the years since. Tripp thought it was all a big diversion, and Zira was inclined to agree. Twenty-nine years was an unusual milestone to celebrate, but if Ryku gave the public something else to focus on, perhaps they wouldn’t spend too much time contemplating the rampant arrests and prison executions taking place right in front of them.
The people of the North Pacific Region, however, were not so easily distracted. As Zira had seen during her time in Grayridge, they weren’t always content to let the PEACE Project control every aspect of their lives. The Project’s presence had never been as strong there as it was in other regions, partly because the North Pacific was somewhat geographically removed from the rest of the country and partly because the population was so much smaller and more spread out. Discontent in the North Pacific only seemed to have grown in the short time since Ryku’s rise to power. Small riots had broken out as people protested everything from the chairman’s harsh enforcement of the law to the food shortages that continued to plague the region. The media sometimes reported these incidents, but only to show the Project’s success in subduing these ‘radicals’ as a cautionary tale to others.
Trinity Jones put a different spin on things. From the security of the rebel base, she reported the events the Project tried to cover up with unflinching honesty, then distributed her stories across the Net through whatever channels she could. Zira’s respect for the young reporter increased with each article she read. Rescuing her had been worth the effort, even if it had put her and Tripp in a dangerous situation. Her articles were always removed less than 24 hours after they went live, but that didn’t mean no one saw them. If even one person began to question the Project after reading what Trinity had written, that was one less person backing Ryku. To Zira, that made it all worthwhile. Removing him from power wouldn’t do any good if most people still supported him.
As Tripp had told Chase, the rebels were going to need public support. Perhaps not now, but soon. They could only hope that the more Ryku did to tighten his control over people’s lives, the more those people would be willing to stand against him when the time came. Zira liked to think they would. She’d been skeptical about the rebels’ plans from the beginning, but more and more she found herself believing they might be exactly what America needed now. If even she could see that, maybe the rest of the country would, too.
Chase didn’t contact them for another week. Upon returning from an uneventful trip down the hall to get water, Zira knocked a quick pattern on the apartment door. Tripp cracked it open and checked to make sure no one else was with her before letting her in—one of his extra precautions given the string of recent arrests and anti-radical sentiment. “Did you talk to anyone?” he asked, taking two of the four jugs of water she carried.
“No. I didn’t even see anyone.”
“Good. I got a message from Chase while you were out.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. He wanted to talk to both of us together. I told him to call in a few minutes. I figured you’d be back by then.”
“I hope it’s about a new transport,” Zira said. “I’m getting tired of just sitting around in here.”
“You know we have to be extra careful now.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”
They set the water on the counter, then sat on the floor with the computer between them. As usual, a news broadcast played on the display. It was the same footage that had been circulating ad nauseam since last week, when Ryku had delivered a speech about, as he put it, ‘the radical menace.’ He was just getting to Zira’s favorite part.
“These radicals are nothing but anarchists and seditious renegades who would see this countr
y tear itself apart. They present a threat much too broad and too insidious for the PEACE Project to take on alone. I urge you, my fellow citizens, to take the safety of your country into your own hands. Report any suspicious activity to your local and regional law enforcement officers. Let us eradicate this menace before it destroys all the progress—”
A flashing green circle popped up in the lower right corner of the display, sparing them from the rest of Ryku’s speech. Tripp tapped the circle with his forefinger and Chase’s face appeared. “Hello, Tripp. Zira.”
“What’s going on?” Tripp asked.
“First of all,” said Chase, “I wanted to apologize to both of you for my behavior the last time we spoke. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.” His expression was sincere, and he sounded genuine enough. “I also want to apologize if I pressured you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with. I knew it was a lot to ask, and maybe I shouldn’t have. It was a bad call on my part.”
Tripp glanced at Zira, but she just shrugged. “It’s fine,” said Tripp. “Let’s just leave it in the past and move on.”
“Good. Thank you. I have a new proposition for the two of you.”
Tripp frowned. “If it’s anything like the last job you gave us, we’re not interested.”
“Well, it’s mostly for Zira, actually, so maybe we’ll let her decide that. But first, I want to be clear that you don’t have to accept. If you don’t think it’s something you can handle or even if you just don’t feel comfortable with the idea, you can say no. No one else is going to take your place if you refuse. It’s extremely dangerous, and I’m not sure anyone else could pull it off anyway.”
“What is it?” Zira asked.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about this celebration Ryku is planning for the PEACE Project’s 29th anniversary in a few weeks. He rarely leaves the compound, but he’s planning to go to San Antonio that day.”
“So we’ve heard. What about it?”
“It might be the best chance we have to get rid of him.”
Tripp shook his head. “You can’t kill him in the open like that and then expect the public to support you.”
“No one will know we were responsible,” said Chase.
“People are smarter than that. They’ll suspect it as soon as you sweep in to take over once Ryku’s gone.”
“Let them suspect it, then. After everything Ryku’s done, I don’t think the majority will be sad to see him go.”
“Is this really how you want to start your new government?” Tripp asked. “With blood on your hands? With the whole country watching? We’re not terrorists. At least, I didn’t think we were.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. There will be blood on all our hands before this is over, and the whole country will be watching either way. I regret that it has to happen that way, but there’s no such thing as a peaceful rebellion.”
Tripp started to say something else, but Zira cut him off. “I’m going to need more information before I can make a decision.”
“Of course,” said Chase. “You’re not far from the area, so take a look around if you want. My understanding is that the celebrations will be taking place near the city center. Ryku is scheduled to speak in front of the distribution center sometime in the afternoon, and Seth’s trying to get a copy of the rest of his schedule. I’ll forward it to you as soon as possible. If you need anything, let us know and we’ll do our best to get it for you.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Zira said. She reached past Tripp to disconnect the call.
“Are you out of your mind?” he asked. “This is the exact same job that got us into trouble in the compound.”
“We won’t be in the compound this time.”
“You don’t think security’s going to be just as tight for this event? If not more so?”
“I don’t know,” said Zira. “We’ll see.”
“It’s a stupid idea.”
“Not if it works. Look, I didn’t promise him anything. I just want to check it out.” She turned and headed to the bedroom to get her backpack. “You don’t have to do this with me, you know. It might be better if you just stay out of the way.”
He followed her down the hall. “When have I ever gotten in the way?”
Zira sighed. “Never. I just mean that this is something I can handle on my own if you don’t want to get involved. I did most of my assignments back at the compound on my own anyway.”
“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.” He gestured to her prosthetic leg. “Someone should at least be there for you in case things go wrong.”
“It doesn’t have to be you. I could ask Alma, or someone else from the rebellion. I know how you feel about being careful.” She said it in a teasing tone, hoping to reassure him that she wouldn’t hold his decision against him no matter what it was. And maybe it would be better if he just stayed behind. The risks were higher for him than they were for Zira. Ryku thought she was dead, so she wasn’t even on his radar, but Tripp definitely was.
He shook his head and sighed. “Maybe I’ve been a little too careful all these years. It’s kept me alive, but how much of a life is it, really? I’m sick of being afraid all the time. The sooner Ryku’s gone, the better. If you’re doing this, I’m in.”
Zira tossed him his backpack and slung her own over one shoulder. “All right then. Let’s go have a look around.”
* * *
San Antonio was about an hour’s drive from Zira and Tripp’s apartment, so it was still early in the afternoon when they arrived. The distribution center had been converted from a building that was almost 200 years old and was easily the most noticeable of all the structures in the immediate vicinity. A tall flagpole pierced the sky atop the towering edifice, and a white flag bearing the seal of the PEACE Project fluttered in the breeze. Zira stared up at it as they approached.
Preparations for the Project’s anniversary celebration were already underway. A giant mural stood on prominent display across from the distribution center. It featured Chairman Ryku smiling down on dozens of happy, hardworking citizens. About ten people busied themselves putting together a large stage in front of the entrance. On the sidewalk, a teenage boy projected an advertisement for the event from his CL and called out to remind all passersby of the upcoming celebrations. He appeared well-fed and was dressed nicer than most ordinary citizens Zira had seen.
She and Tripp approached the boy with friendly smiles. He beamed back at them. “Are you planning on coming to the anniversary celebration?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” said Tripp. He gestured to Zira. “Unfortunately, my sister’s being transferred to a new job in the South Atlantic Region next week, so she won’t be able to attend. We thought we’d come down and take a look at the place before she leaves.”
The boy gave Zira a sympathetic frown. “Bad luck,” he said. “It’s going to be incredible. They’ve been making the plans for weeks, trying to get everything just right. Chairman Ryku coming here—can you believe it? I hope I get to shake his hand.”
Zira forced a smile. To him, Ryku was a hero, someone to be admired and respected. Until recently, he’d been something of a role model to Zira, too. It was disquieting to look into this boy’s eyes and see the same shining veneration for the chairman that must have once been in her own. “That would be the opportunity of a lifetime,” she said. “I wish I could be here.”
“I’m a little surprised he’s leaving the compound after what happened to the other chairmen,” said Tripp. The concern in his voice was so real that even Zira almost believed it. “Is it safe for him to do that?”
The boy nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. They’re sending a bunch of unit P officers next week. My dad is a cop, and he says the whole force is going to be working that day. They’ll have drones patrolling the entire city and checkpoints set up on every street near the distribution center. I’m sure the chairman will bring his own security, too. I mean, he wouldn’t come if it weren’t completely safe, wo
uld he?”
Tripp nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
“Is that where he’s going to speak?” Zira asked, pointing to the stage.
They boy nodded. “Yeah. They had a smaller one set up yesterday, but I guess the people in charge of the event wanted it bigger, so they had to tear it down and start over.”
Zira scanned the surrounding area while Tripp continued to talk to the boy. Based on what he’d said, getting into the city without any problems on the day of the celebration would be a challenge, but not impossible. Getting anywhere close to Ryku, however, was an entirely different matter. Zira didn’t see any way to even attempt it with a reasonable chance of success. However, there were a few buildings overlooking the stage that might serve as good vantage points, assuming Chase could provide her with a decent rifle and scope.
Tripp finished his conversation with the boy and thanked him for his time, then he and Zira walked away. “What do you think?” Tripp asked.
Zira explained her plan and pointed out a few of the structures that might suit her needs. “I want to get a better look at some of these buildings while we’re here, figure out which ones will work best.”
“Isn’t that all going to change once they bring in the police and cameras and security checkpoints?”
“Probably,” said Zira. “But at least we’ll know what our options are. We can nail something concrete down once we get here that day. And we can always back out if it looks too risky.”
Tripp was silent for several moments, then gave her a sidelong glance. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Zira said quietly. “I do.” Eliminating Ryku was the quickest and easiest way to end his reign of terror and allow the rebels a chance to step in and make good on their promise to improve things. But she had to admit to herself that it was more than just that. This was personal.
Ryku had molded and manipulated her into the tool he needed her to be. He had used her, and when she’d dared to question the lies she’d been told, he had used another one of his tools—Jared—to get rid of her.
Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2) Page 15