I look at Karden, and even for someone as wiry and tough and self-disciplined as he is, someone who has survived years of isolation and who knows what else, this proves too much for even him and he looks away, tears flowing down his cheeks.
Xavier appears in the doorway and knocks softly on the wall. “Sorry,” he whispers. “But their car is here. It’s not safe for them to linger too long.”
Time. It seems there’s always too much. Or not enough. But we know we have to deal with what we have.
Miesha seems to understand this too. We explain to her where we’re going. A safe house in New York. It’s a good town to get lost in for a while. And we need to get good and lost, at least until the money can start helping us, opening some doors and closing others. Plus, there’s someone else there, someone who needs a Favor. Xavier’s promised me it’s nothing of the magnitude of this last Favor, just enough to keep me “out of trouble,” as he describes it. Karden will be staying here and recovering until he’s better able to travel. It’s not safe for him to stay in Boston either.
We walk outside and Xavier points to a narrow place between two buildings where a truck is wedged, almost hidden from view. The plumbing truck. “One last thing before you go. We need to do something with them. Did you decide?”
I think I decided almost the minute I saw them. I just needed to be able to do it myself. I finally understood Jenna’s long-ago actions in that moment, knowing why she threw our copies in the pond. Until we face an impossible decision ourselves, we don’t ever really know for sure what we would do. I know now. A life gets one chance, maybe two if we’re lucky, but a hundred chances reduces what is precious to a product—a product whose only purpose for existence is to replace that which is lost.
Not everything can be replaced. Kara’s gone. If anything’s left, it’s only her shell, the one Gatsbro tried unsuccessfully to fill and use for his own greedy purposes. No one will have that chance again.
One by one, I disconnect the cubes from their battery docks and pass them to Xavier, and others who quietly offer their help, and they take them to the bonfire. Cube after cube labeled with LOCKE or with KARA, a hundred Lockes, a hundred Karas, one by one, gone. No more wandering through an endless, timeless void. No more searching for doors that don’t exist. Finally, I come to the last cube, but it’s labeled differently from the rest.
Gerald Gatsbro.
My blood runs cold and I hesitate. Xavier waits, his hand outstretched, ready to carry it off with the others. I stare at the cube, a second chance to give Gatsbro what he deserves. I’m inclined to keep it, walk away to one of the many abandoned buildings that surround us and tuck it away into a dark corner. Leave it there. Let it sit for centuries. Or longer.
Raine appears at the rear of the truck. “Locke, are you okay?”
I inhale sharply, focusing on her face, her eyes bright, ready to leave her past behind. I look back at the cube, my last chance for revenge for everything he did to me and especially to Kara. “Yes,” I answer. “I’m fine.” I disconnect Gatsbro’s cube and hand it to Xavier.
The copies are finally all gone, their journey over, and now only one Locke remains, the Locke reaching for Raine’s hand, ready to begin a new journey.
We walk across the courtyard to the car the Network has given us for our Escape, a beat-up wreck but still an extravagance by Non-pact standards. Xavier shows me the basics. I tell him that I never learned to drive, but he assures me there’s nothing to learn. The car will do it all. “But if you ever need to break the rules—and I have no doubt that you will—a simple Override command will take care of it.”
I see the weight in Xavier’s eyes. He had tried to talk me out of taking Raine. This isn’t a life she’s used to, he had told me. There are other places we can hide her. What he doesn’t know is it’s not a life I was used to just a short time ago either. But life changes. We adapt. We have no other choice.
He tries to reason with me one last time. “Are you sure you want to take her? It’s not going to be an easy life on the—”
Miesha steps forward, tucking a strand of hair behind Raine’s ear, worry in her eyes too. “She’ll be fine,” she says. “She’s a strong young woman.”
Raine smiles. I know it’s hard for her to say good-bye too. A relationship barely begun will have to wait again. She reaches out, this time initiating her own embrace with Miesha.
Karden reaches into his pocket and holds out his Swiss knife to me. “I hear it’s gotten you out of a few scrapes. Take it,” he says. I look into his eyes, dark and deep like Raine’s, the fire and focus still there, never giving up. I reach out to take it from him and he grips my hand with both of his, squeezing it hard, his gaze locked on mine, an understanding. A nod. A silent thank you.
We get into the car and I begin to pull the door shut when a large golden arm swipes through the air blocking me from closing it. Raine and I both suck in startled breaths.
A familiar voice booms in our ears. “You may not shut the door unless Miss Branson is on this side of it with me.”
Xavier grins. “Sorry, kid. Forgot to tell you.”
I turn and look behind me. I face a perpetual stern scowl, but now I know what lies behind it. Something more. “Get in, Hap,” I say. “Back seat.”
* * *
Raine and I hold hands in the front seat. We’ve been on the open highway that hugs the coast for an hour now, the windows down, the brisk autumn air blowing through our hair. We both wear our government-issue charity coats for warmth, a symbol of shameful poverty for so many, a symbol of hope for us. Are the odds with us? Probably not. Two kids out to change the world. Two kids being hunted by a still-powerful man. Not good odds. But the odds have never been with me, and yet, here I am.
With Raine.
She spots a wide sandy beach and pulls the frosted green glass of Liberty from her pocket, still in need of its lost mate. “Do we have time?”
Never enough. Always too much.
But now, as I look into her eyes, the time seems just right.
Thirty Years Later
I hear a soft knock and I pause, listening to see if it came from upstairs. Is one of the boys rapping on the wall? Another weak knock but this one is clearly coming from the front door, which seems unlikely because of the late hour and the drifts of snow that are piling up by the minute. Perhaps a neighbor in need of something?
I cross to the foyer, startling as I swing open the door. “What are you doing out there? For God’s sake, you shouldn’t—” I reach out to pull Jenna inside but she steps back and shakes her head. “Jenna, you can’t stay out there in the cold. You know—”
“I’ve been walking all day, Locke. That’s why I’m here. To walk.”
“But you can’t—”
“It’s time, Locke,” she says forcefully, cutting me off. I finally understand what she’s saying. This isn’t just a walk.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. She’s a Jenna I’ve never seen before. The calm, serene Jenna she’s always been, but a very weary one too. I see it in her eyes, still crystal blue, forever stuck at seventeen, but a fire has left them.
She reaches out, smiles, touching my temple where my hair is tinged with gray.
“I guess you were right,” I say. “It’s all connected. The Bio-Perfect got the message that I want to grow old with Raine. It’s making sure I do. I can’t bear the thought of—” I realize what I’m saying and stop.
“That’s the advantage of progress,” she says. “I, on the other hand, have a first-generation Bio Gel that’s never gotten that message—only the survival one.”
“Jenna, please—”
“Kayla’s in Africa with her husband. She’s so happy, Locke. She loves her work there. She called me last week and I saw she has a hint of gray at her temple too.” Her smile fades. “She’s getting older, Locke. Before I have to face the day that—” She shakes her head. “I’m tired, Locke. No one can live forever and it already feels like I have. I’ve outlived
Allys, Ethan, everyone I’ve ever known, but I refuse to outlive my own daughter.”
Her gaze drops to her hands laced together in front of her. “My parents couldn’t face it. Neither can I.” She looks back at me, her eyes hopeful. “No parent wants that. I always knew that one day … one day I’d return to Boston for a last walk in wintertime.” She takes both of my hands and squeezes them with icy fingers. “Now is that time. And I want to share this last moment with someone who knows me—someone who knew me from the beginning. Someone who always made me braver. That’s you. Please, this one last time, come walk with me.”
“Locke? Who’s there?”
I turn to see Raine walking in from the kitchen, large with our third child. She stops when she sees Jenna out in the cold. She knows what that means too. She tries to persuade her to come in, but Jenna is firm in her decision.
“It’s already done. I’ve been outside for hours. I just need a little time with an old friend.” Her voice is fragile.
Raine touches her belly, perhaps understanding more than I can, and walks over to hug her. There are no more words between them, just an exchanged look of understanding. I grab my coat and give Raine a kiss. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. You’ll be okay?”
“Hap’s upstairs, and Mother and Father are right next door if I need anything,” she says, and she pushes me toward the door and Jenna.
* * *
The wind has stopped like the world has sucked in its breath for Jenna, and snowflakes flutter as delicately as white butterflies in no hurry to land. Jenna hooks her arm into mine as we walk, leaning on me more with each step. We’re the only ones on the street, the only ones with a reason to be out late in weather like this.
“You and me again,” she whispers. “Just like in the old days. Almost.”
Kara’s name doesn’t have to be said. She’s always present.
She sighs, serene and content. “Such lives we’ve lived. Lives we never could have imagined.”
An understatement. “Never,” I agree. “My imagination isn’t that good. But we’re probably not so different from anyone else. We all envision one life and live another, don’t we? I’m probably lucky my other imagined life never came to pass.”
She laughs and pulls my arm closer. “You’ve done a lot of good, Locke. Your parents would be proud.”
I smile. “I didn’t exactly become the president or scientist they had hoped for.”
“Better,” she says.
Change came relatively fast by most people’s standards but never fast enough for me. Jenna was right, it was molded over time by people who refused to give up. I was one of those people. I pushed and pushed and realized I had become a member of the Resistance. A leader even. Raine and I together, along with Karden, Miesha, and Xavier. It wasn’t easy, but I guess things of worth rarely are.
Raine and I lived on the run for the most part, just about everywhere, even in the room under Jenna’s greenhouse for a while, but we didn’t have to wait ninety years for change the way Jenna did. The money helped our voices be heard, but it was still people who made the biggest difference. Each one made sacrifices, some contributing in large ways, others in small, everyone helping as much as they could, but all people who never lost sight of the goal.
Ian proved true to his character, and years after we had last seen him at a Collective meeting, he became part of a core Citizen group who helped push through legislation. He worked closely with Xavier and other key Non-pacts to draft the final wording of the bill.
Ten years from the time we began running, the country was reunified and the whole class of Non-pacts ceased to exist. After a lifetime of living on the fringes, Non-pacts were now Citizens like everyone else and could openly walk wherever they chose. Raine and I were both overcome with emotion the first time we saw Karden and Miesha walking hand in hand toward us through cheering crowds at Faneuil Hall for the official signing, two new people in so many ways.
A short time later that freedom was extended to all sentient beings like the one Dot had been. They were given basic rights, the circumstances of their existence no longer tied to their worth. We even dare to dream that those worlds could be ours one day. Escape is not about moving from one place to another but about becoming more. Life it seems is precious, no matter how you come by it. In appreciation for the work I’d done, they allowed me to name the bill that secured these rights, now known as the Dot Jefferson Act.
We never found Livvy. The Reformation and Reassignment camps were disbanded. She wasn’t in them. There were trials for crimes against humanity—LeGru was tried and sentenced to life imprisonment—but the Secretary escaped the trials, enough of the old system still in place to protect him. A pardon. He retired in disgrace, an old man on a government pension, absolved of his crimes by an outgoing president. My only consolation is that he’s utterly alone in a prison of his own making, still holed up in his rooftop fortress, knowing that the child he stole—his daughter—helped to topple his secret empire, and a lab beast like me was his final undoing.
Like Karden and Miesha, Xavier became a new person too, refocusing his energies on employment and decent housing for former Non-pacts. Because of him, the abandoned tenements on the south side of Boston have been cleaned up or bulldozed, and every man or woman willing to work is paid a fair legal wage. But there’s always more to do.
* * *
The world has changed. It’s gotten better. It’s gotten worse. After all these years, Jenna’s words still echo in my head, just as one problem is solved, a new one is created. The work never ends. If there’s one thing you can always count on in this world, it is change. I don’t fear it the way I used to. I try to be ready for it. One day, maybe, all the changes will be only for the good. I can dare to dream. I can always hope for more.
We turn the corner. The Commons is just ahead, but I watch Jenna’s strength ebbing, her steps slowing. I know that Allys’s death a few years ago was a blow to her. True to form, Allys had married again, this time to an adventure seeker. Allys said seven was her lucky number, but on one of their ocean adventures near the tip of South America they were both drowned at sea. At least we all knew she died doing what she loved and was with someone she loved when it happened. Jenna’s arm shakes in mine, and with a sudden wild desperation I’m ready to sweep her into my arms and run, save her, keep her, turn back a clock that always moves forward, but the unthinkable stops me. What if I outlived everyone that I love? Raine. My boys. I wouldn’t want it for myself. I can’t force it on her.
“Can you make it?” I ask.
She nods. “Remember when we used to come here when we were supposed to be in seminar?”
“Hiding behind the Washington Monument. How could I forget? This was the first place I was ever kissed. By you.”
She laughs. “But it certainly wasn’t the last.”
“No.” I smile, thinking of Raine, my first kisses with her not far from this spot. “Not the last by a long shot.”
“Even with all the hard times, we have a lot of good memories.”
“It doesn’t have to be over, Jenna. There’s still time—”
She looks at me sharply with strength I didn’t think she still possessed. “Yes, Locke. It’s over.” And then more softly, “Death isn’t a curse. It’s the shadow that gives life its form, and that shadow’s whispering to me now.”
Her shoulders slump like the burst of energy has drained her. Still, she lets go of my arm and walks onto the lawn of the Commons, snow swallowing her boots, her arms shaking as she lifts her hands and face to the sky.
“I had forgotten how snowflakes felt on my face,” she says.
“They sting,” I say.
“No, it’s more of a flutter. Almost like wings brushing my cheeks.”
I lift my face, trying to see the snowflakes as Jenna does. I’ve become immune to them, so many winters in Boston now. I remember winters as a child, racing to get my sled at first snowfall, the excitement and fear of hitting my broth
er dead center on his back with a snowball, the times I tried to capture the quarter-sized flakes to put in our freezer, wanting to preserve the fragile crystals forever, and more recently, sharing the first-time wonder with Raine as our toddler son caught the tiny treasures in his own small hands and licked them away.
“And so light,” she says. “A lacy wing that melts away. It’s a miracle.”
A miracle. That’s the look I saw in my son’s eyes too. And though I knew all the explanations of how snowflakes form, in that moment I ached inside with the mystery and miracle of it all.
A cough wrenches Jenna’s lungs and her steps falter. I hurry to her side, holding her, my arm around her waist.
“It’s time, Locke,” she whispers. “I can feel it.”
“No, Jenna, not yet—”
Her legs fail and I catch her, falling to the ground with her.
“Jenna, what can I do?”
“Nothing.…”
Locke
Jenna
A mysterious connection that can never be explained.
A connection that will never be broken.
She coughs, her shoulders shaking in my arms. I spread my fingers beneath her head, supporting her, looking at the girl, still every bit seventeen but over three hundred years old.
“So many others are already gone. It’s my turn.”
She stares into my face, the last thing she’ll ever see, staring until her crystal blue eyes don’t see me anymore, snowflakes gathering on her lashes. My hands tremble as I reach up and close her lids. I pull her close to my chest, holding her, rocking her, the world hushed, saying the word it took me more than a lifetime to learn. Good-bye.
Snowflakes fall silently around us, fluttering white butterflies.
No, Jenna … never gone.
Some things last forever.
Acknowledgments
I owe thanks to so many remarkable people who have made the Jenna Fox Chronicles happen.
Fox Forever (Jenna Fox Chronicles #3) Page 25