32. CAPTURE
Aidan—
I jerk awake and almost fall off the worn wooden bench. A sliver of sky is visible. The color is wrong, too pink. What—?
My parents!
I sit in a rush, making the dugout spin. Dugout…Arena…D-town. Right, my parents are long dead.
It’s Lawson who’s missing.
A second ago the sky was blue while Lawson wept, but now I’m alone. He’s gone. Tab’s body is also gone. I stand on wobbly legs and peer out into the arena. Yeah, the bodies of the spies are missing too. I scratch at my scalp. I really need a shave.
Focus, Aidan.
Focus. Okay. The GeeGee have come and gone and taken Lawson from me. My throat clamps closed and I reject the thought. No, no, I don’t need to get ahead of myself. There’s always a chance he woke before me and went somewhere else.
Where?
I don’t know!
Now my thoughts are arguing with each other. Great.
I wobble out of the dugout and away from the Arena, into D-town proper. My steps weave at first, then gain strength. The slap of my shoes against cement echoes off the empty buildings. I’m halfway to the Barracks before I realize there are no longer any sleeping bodies in the street.
Long lines of dust mark the road, like a giant has swept here. A machine has come through and cleaned up the bodies, just scooped them up like so much trash. And left me behind.
Again. It doesn’t make any sense.
“Lawson!” I scream.
“—son—son—son,” the echo responds.
I might as well be the only person left in the world.
I run into the Barracks and the pain in my joints no longer slows me. My heart throws itself against my breastbone like it’s trying to break free and sprint on ahead. My steps ring out against the marble like gunshots. I leap sleeping bags and camp kitchens and supplies. In one corner, a lit stove has toppled into a warped plastic bin, starting a smoldering fire. That box probably contains precious mementos of someone’s childhood, or even more valuable food. It might belong to someone I know, maybe even Lin. But I can’t stop to douse the flames. I take the stairs two at a time and skid to a stop outside Lawson’s room.
I throw open the makeshift door.
He’s not there. The cubicle is empty as the rest of D-town, empty as a world without That Guy. I fall to my knees on the sleeping bag where we held each other last night. My forehead hits the sleek fabric as I fold forward. Lawson was supposed to be here. He had to be here. Where else would he go?
The Dance.
But The Dance is gone. I get my feet under me and flounder for a second before careening out of the cubicle and back downstairs. I forget to close the door behind me and that open door feels like something left undone.
Once I reach the street, my steps slow. I’ve run all I can. Every straight angle and broken wall of D-town stands out, gray and tarnished and sharp as metal. I head toward the Haven.
Like with my parents, and Kylie and Sam, there’s rarely time at the end to say goodbye. I’m old enough to know that. Maybe last night was my final chance to hear Lawson’s heartbeat. Maybe I will have to live with that. Maybe I won’t get to live at all. But there’s time for one farewell.
“Good bye, D-town,” I say as I open the door to the Haven.
The main room is empty, of course—no Lawson, no anyone—but the sound equipment remains intact. It takes just a moment to turn it on and crank it up all the way.
Boom. Ba-boom. Boom. The beat rushes out, trying to fill the world, starting with me.
I dust my hands, turn away, and come up short. The Captain fills the doorway, feet planted wide, arms crossed. She carries a machine gun slung over one shoulder and a blaster over the other. The visor on her helmet is up. There’s something familiar about her tired expression.
“Captain,” I say.
Her mouth twists. “I knew you’d come, and do you know why? You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I tried to warn you—I tried and tried—but you just won’t take a hint.” She lunges for me.
D-town Council took place in a circle; I have no reason to fear the shape. But when, after a long ride in a dark vehicle, the Captain shoves me into a giant domed room filled with round desks and round stools arranged in interlocking circles, I swear I start to suffocate.
Guards stand stationed around the perimeter of the room, and D-towners huddle in tribal groupings between the guards and the desks. It’s simple to find Real Dealer red and black, to see that Lawson is missing. There’s a constriction in my chest, like steel bands wrapping me and pulling tight.
I need him. I need him to prove that a self can exist in all this “wholeness,” in all this GeeGee green, and what if he’s not coming? What if there’s nothing left of him but empty flesh?
I gasp, trying to swallow the panic, because everyone’s staring: The A guys surrounding their femmes; Tara whispering to the rest of the Logic; Love Childs clinging to one another; and Witches holding hands in a tight circle of their own; the few remaining members of the Turbans standing beside the Cross Bearers; and the Real Deal in a loose knot, Xavier and Lin out front, closest to me.
Lin catches my eye and raises her eyebrows in silent question. I shake my head. No, I haven’t seen Lawson, either.
“Watch this one,” the Captain says, nudging me further into the room before pulling the door shut and going back to wherever she goes when she’s not bothering us.
A series of locks snap into place behind me.
I waver, with no place to belong, until Lin waves me over. I weave through the D-towners, noticing wild eyes and wan complexions. They’re not all blissed-out and eager, so a pulse hasn’t hit. Yet. We need to act now—resist, escape, something—while we still can, but as always D-town stands divided. If Kylie were here, maybe she could get them to form a united front, but I’m the only Bee, and I’m no Kylie.
“We invite you to take a seat.” The GeeGee femme is so slim I missed her before. She leans against the far wall in a long lilac skirt and cream-colored blouse. She steps forward now to stand at the front of the room, almost like she was waiting on me, and now that I’m here she can begin. She smiles right at me. Perfect, auburn curls fall around her heart-shaped face. An earbud peeks from amidst her hair.
So that’s why she’s not shaking in her vegan shoes, surrounded by all us “dangerous” teens.
My hand reaches out, searching for another set of fingers, and connects with Lin’s.
“We need to do something.” Her words are a rustle of air.
“Nonviolent resistance.” I barely move my lips. “It’s the only way.” Nonviolent action was designed for situations like this, when force cannot possibly win.
Lin tenses.
“We have to find out what they’re made of,” I continue.
That seems to win her over; she relaxes some.
“We invite you to sit,” the GeeGee woman says again.
A few kids move to sit, Love Childs mostly. They shrug apologetically at the rest of us, as if to say, What could it hurt?
“I’d like if you’d mix tribes,” the GeeGee femme says.
I press closer to Lin and murmur, “We refuse to sit in the seats.”
She nods and leans over to Xavier. “Don’t sit. Pass it on.”
The whisper passes out of hearing, but it moves in all directions, a ripple in the crowd, and in a few minutes, the kids who sat are all on their feet again. The GeeGee femme frowns.
“Crowd close,” I whisper to Lin.
And that happens too.
D-towners gather around us at the back of the room by the door, so we’re packed together like in The Dance. Through a shift in the crowd, I see the GeeGee femme, staring into the group with narrowed eyes. I cling to Lin’s hand, pressing her bones. The GeeGee will discover the source of the resistance soon, and when she does, I have to make sure it’s me she notices and not Lin.
Lin pulls her hand away. We’re stuck in the middl
e and she pushes forward, to the outer layer. I move with her, but she shoves me back.
“You need to stay alive.”
“But—”
“Why do you think they got rid of all the other Bees? It was good to know you.”
A chill passes through me as she moves out of sight.
I feel close to everyone, closer than I ever was in The Dance, with anyone except Lawson. The GeeGee has accomplished her goal, broken down the boundaries between us, just not in the way she hoped. In a moment, we have become one tribe.
And you’re in charge.
I shake off the ego voice, but it comes back stronger. You’re the leader.
The D-towners closest to me—Riana, the Witch who helped me in the Haven, and Tara, leader for the Logic—watch me expectantly. Terror curls around my guts. With all the other Bees gone, I am the only one here at all prepared to deal with a situation like this, a situation where someone wants to break down our psychological boundaries and reform us according to their will, and I have no time to teach everyone. All I have is my example. Lin is right; I have to stay alive.
For the first time, I really understand why the Lama willingly stayed inside the Ashram, even though it meant missing out on The Dance.
Lawson’s voice comes to me through memory, speaking to his grandmother. That one is a leader, he said.
Okay, Aidan. Time to step up.
I take a deep breath and turn to Tara. “Leaders to the middle,” I say. “Pass it on.”
Tara does as I ask and the group shifts around me. I strain for another glimpse of the GeeGee femme. She’s stopped giving orders disguised as requests and I need to know what she’s up to, but my view is blocked.
“I need to know what’s going on,” I tell Tara, and the ripple of that passes as well.
“Watching.” Lin’s voice, loud and strong, rings from the outer layer of the crowd.
She’s just set herself up as a target. She’ll be first to go down now. But that’s what Real Dealers do. Another will take her place. Tears prickle my eyes, and I blink around them, sending out a silent thanks.
A touch to my right hand. I turn my head.
“I’m going forward,” Riana says, and she too slips away.
Crow, co-leader of the Witches, takes Riana’s place at my left side a few moments later. The High Priestess tosses her head, fluttering the feathers in her black braids. She plants her hands on her hips and nods to me. I nod back, then double-check that all the other leaders are with me. They are, except for the anarchists. In typical style, there are no Real Dealers at all—the Real Deal has no leaders—and the A closest to me is a femme with blond pigtails. I raise a brow at her.
“The A femmes stay inside,” she says. “That’s our orders.”
I nod. “Right. Okay. For now, we don’t sit in the seats,” I tell the leaders. “And we don’t fight back.”
The A grimaces. “No matter what?”
I really don’t understand A femmes. Does she want to be sheltered or does she want to do battle?
“We don’t fight back,” I repeat. “No matter what. The sitting, that’s different. We might have to give that up.”
Click, click, click. Locks turn over behind us.
My heart leaps. Lawson? I glance back but can’t get a view of the door.
“So we’re going to…?” the Bishop asks, but the rest of his sentence is lost in Lin’s shout.
“Reinforcements!”
The knowledge of what’s about to happen rushes over my skin and it’s all I can do not to shove to the outside.
“Get the weak to the middle,” I whisper, horrified.
Tara roles her eyes. “Already done.”
I look around and it’s true, so I take a breath and try to push my worry for Lawson into a corner of my mind so I can concentrate.
Okay. We need something to give us focus, something like the bass of The Dance. The memory of that night—the night That Guy saved me—flows in, and I can hear the beat as if it reaches across time and space. Boom-boom-boom. I stamp my feet in time.
The others take it up.
“Does anyone know a song?” I whisper. “Something simple.”
“How about a chant?” Crow replies. “I know a bunch. Does it matter—?”
“Advancing!” Lin shouts.
“We don’t want to hurt you.” The GeeGee femme’s voice carries. “But we will if you give us no choice.”
“Just sing something,” I hiss.
“D-town is no more,” the GeeGee continues. “You are with us now. The quicker you accept that—”
“Backward you can never go-o-o.” Crow’s beautiful voice fills the dome.
Silence. Even the GeeGee shuts up. Crow glances at me. Sweat is slipping down my back, but I nod, and this time she and I sing together. “Backward you can never go-o-o.”
“Backward you can never go,” what’s left of D-town echoes, and the song continues in call and repeat.
Backward you can never go,
Never mind how hard you row.
Forward only, with the flow.
All behind you, let it go.