Hap remains silent. Just as I thought. Some things are so timeless even a nugget-head can grasp it.
Yeah, flawless.
I join the others, hardly missing a beat, taking the raspberry tart that Raine offers to me on a delicate china plate, letting my fingers linger on hers a few seconds longer than I should, maybe bolstered by my success on the roof. I laugh at Carlo’s joke like I was never out of the room, and compliment Dorian on the tart when she returns for dishes. Carlo tells another story about his family being detained while on safari in Namibia. I sit back like I’m listening but my thoughts return to the dark shadows where I dangled from the rooftop. Tonight. LeGru is going down tonight. To the tunnels? Could he possibly lead me straight to Karden? Could I forgo searching the Secretary’s office for the exact location and let LeGru do my work for me? It would save time and time is running out. This might be a certain pathway to Karden and his freedom—if that’s who they were talking about.
I’m also hearing LeGru’s words over and over again. And the girl? Could the Secretary be so coldhearted that he’d hurt Raine to get information? He did hesitate. What was that I saw on his face? Concern? Earlier when he talked about her proficiency at fencing I was surprised that there was even genuine pride in his voice. Maybe on some twisted level he does care about her, but even considering hurting his own daughter for money makes him a ruthless bastard. He’s only holding off for now. He drilled into Raine that Non-pacts were animals. If only she knew who the real animal was.
Vina’s shrill laugh at one of Brita’s stories jerks me back to the conversation and I laugh too like I heard the whole story. I grab one of the tea napkins from the table and step away from the others for a moment, pretending I’m looking out at the sweeping view of the Commons and beyond. When Raine comes over a minute later to look out with me, she maintains her distance, knowing that Shane and Vina watch our backs. I drop the napkin on the table in front of us—the code for my iScroll quickly scrawled on the corner. “Just in case,” I whisper. Her fingers curl around it and she slides it into her pocket.
She loudly points out a few sights in the distance and then whispers, “Tonight?”
I don’t know how long following LeGru will take. “I’ll try,” I whisper. “But I might be late.”
Seeing Red
I wait outside the Tudor Apartments for almost an hour before LeGru appears. Xavier calls me twice, but I don’t answer. Let him think our meeting is running late. I don’t want him to catch on to my plans or he might try to stop me. Sure, they want me to find where Karden is being kept, but I think a personal vendetta that Xavier has nursed makes him think he’s the one who needs to actually go get him, no matter the cost to himself. But I’m more than a pair of eyes that can see in the dark, more than someone who can read lips and find out secrets, more than an “in” to get information for them. I have plenty of stakes of my own now. The clock is ticking—not just for Karden, but maybe for Raine too.
As I follow LeGru down Beacon, hiding in the shadows of the Commons, my iScroll alerts me to another call. This time Percel makes a worried appearance.
“It’s an emergency, sir. I am told to alert you at all costs.”
I duck behind a tree. If I lose LeGru now, I may not get any other chance.
“Who is it?” I say, my first thought rushing to Miesha. Has she taken a turn for the worse? Emergency calls are never good.
It’s Carver, Percel informs me, and connects us.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” Carver says. “I just need news. What happened tonight?”
“You have to call now?” I ask. “I told you that when I—”
“Listen to me, you—” He stops, recomposing himself into his usual cool. He even manages a smile. “I’m sorry if this is an inconvenient time for you, but this is a team operation. And for now at least, I’m the head of that team. If I say I need news, I need news. Did you find anything?”
“No. Not yet. I found the Secretary’s office. Tomorrow night I go back. I’ll try to find something then. I have to go.” I sign off before he can answer and I tell Percel no more emergency calls. My lesson for Carver: If you want things done just your way, do it yourself. Like me. Any other time I might feel guilty for dismissing him—he’s been the most pleasant and level-headed member of the so-called team—but right now I don’t have time to worry about it.
I take off, running through the Commons and then the public gardens, trying to catch up with LeGru, and then I think I spot him, or at least a bony silhouette that could be him slipping down the tunnel entrance at Arlington. A shorter route for sure than going all the way to the Old Library. Is he in that much of a hurry? I remember the Secretary’s furious eyes. Yes, I guess shortcuts are in order and LeGru is giving me one of my own.
I continue running, trying to catch up, and then slow as I near the entrance. The tunnels are dark in the daytime. How much darker will they be at night? How can LeGru see anything at all? I make my way down the rough stone steps, trying to keep every part of me silent, including my breaths. When I reach the station area I see a small red light glowing in the distance and hear a faint high-pitched hum and then they both disappear altogether. I listen. There isn’t a single sound. Not a hum. Not a footstep. Not a breath.
I let my eyes adjust. My practice in the apartment helps me accelerate the process. I concentrate, forcing my eyes to search for scattered light. In seconds, the dim walls of the station come into view, and then, the still dimmer walls of the tunnels that lay beyond. Dead silence. Not even the skittering of small animals. Something has frightened them away.
I step forward. There’s only one place to go. Toward the red light that disappeared so suddenly. That has to be where he went. The air is dank, smelling of rot. I watch my steps, avoiding large pieces of rubble, but I can’t avoid the grit that covers everything and it crunches through the silence. I fight the urge to call out. I know it would be suicide to make myself known, and yet, the last time I was in such a dark place, that was all I could do, call out to Kara and Jenna over and over again, hoping one of them would come. I fight the instinct that ruled me for 260 years.
Did the red light lead to a doorway? I reach the entrance of the main tunnel for the green line. I walk farther in and run my hands along the wall where I thought I saw the light. I can’t find it. Was it an illusion? Light reflected from somewhere else? I make a decision. I’m down here. I may as well go for broke. I start down the tunnel. Karden’s here, somewhere. I can feel it. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Is this what my mother defended as intuition? If so, I’ve got it. Or maybe I’m still learning new things that my BioPerfect can do. Unfortunately it doesn’t keep my chest from feeling like every breath is trapped inside. I’m swimming against the current of survival mode.
The old broken track still runs down the middle of the tunnel so I stay to the left side, which has a wider, more intact walkway. The farther I go, the darker it gets, the danker the air, the tighter my chest squeezes, the faster my pace. Get in, get out, Locke. Do it now. Find him. Do it for Miesha. Do it for you. Do it for Raine. It’s a new kind of survival.
I come to a place where the tunnel forks. The path to the left is smaller and cruder, maybe a tunnel that was forged in haste during the Division. No trains ever went down this way, but what has? My gut tells me to follow it, so I do. Another ten yards and another fork. This dungeon is riddled with haphazard tunnels. Someone could get lost down here forever if they weren’t careful and I make a special effort to note my steps and turns. I follow my gut again, this time to the right. I can barely see at all now. Even these BioPerfect eyes need the smallest bit of reflected light to work with and here there’s none. My breaths are shallow in my chest, like the air has vanished along with the light. I remind myself: I’m not there. There’s ground beneath my feet, a real world that’s only steps away. I fight the temptation to turn on the light that’s in my iScroll, knowing it would set off alarms and bring Security Fo
rces swarming down on me. Damn Carver for calling. I move forward more carefully now, listening for sounds. The only ones are my footsteps, but the sense is even stronger now. Something is nearby. Something important. Something like Karden. He’s alive. I’m close. I’m sure of it.
And then.
I sense something else.
I stop.
Cock my head to the side trying to understand what it is.
A breath.
A presence.
A closing in.
And then shadows.
Flashes of air.
A thousand screeches surround me and I’m knocked to the ground. Pounced on. Razors cutting into my flesh. Screeches ringing in my ears from all sides. I fight them off, whatever they are, tossing, punching, trying to stand and being pulled down again. There are dozens of them coming at me. I feel bites, gouges, claws, the snapping of jaws as they miss me. I roll and deflect them, gaining a moment of freedom and then losing it again. Teeth sink into my hip, tear into my arm. I kick one off and another takes its place. I finally grab what seems to be a small one around the neck, and I hear an agonized screech, and for a moment the onslaught pauses. I pull the creature closer, holding it by the throat until it whimpers louder. The rest hold back and even though I’m sure they can’t understand, I yell, “I’ll kill it. Stay back or I’ll snap its head off.” And I could. Right now, I could do it in a heartbeat.
There’s screeching and snapping, but they stay at bay, seeming to sense my desperation. I walk backward, holding the creature by the neck as it claws at my arms. With each step back I take, the shadowy pack follows, just waiting for me to trip or let go. When I sense they’re getting too close, I squeeze tighter so the creature in my arms screams and chokes. I step carefully, knowing one stumble and they will be on top of me again. Blood drips down my face, into my eyes, my mouth. I feel every gash, the pain, the gouges where their teeth have riddled my flesh, but I keep moving. If I stop, I know I’m dead. The creature twists and slithers, razorlike claws shredding my shirt and digging deeper into my arms trying to escape, but I keep my hold.
I make it to the end of one tunnel, and then another, and I’m finally moving into the larger station area where scattered distant light once again gives the walls form. At last I can make out the features of the creatures. Even darkness can’t disguise their gruesome distorted bodies. Maybe half-dogs. Maybe not. But it’s the other half that sickens me, so much so that my arms nearly drop the creature in my grasp. The other half is unmistakable. Thin, gaunt, they stand upright. I stare at the largest ones, just feet away from me ready to pounce. Their lips are missing and the exposed sharp teeth give them a grotesque perpetual grin. Their eyes are frozen open, forever startled, because they have no lids. Their bodies are covered with slime, scabs, and filth. And long sharp claws protrude from their fingers.
Fingers that are distinctly human.
I look down at the creature in my arms. Even through the squalor and horror, I can tell—it’s a child. A small one, not much bigger than Kayla. I look back at the pack, and single out a creature at the front, the one most eager to tear my head off—man or woman I don’t know, but without a doubt, the parent. Our eyes meet and I see the panic. Human panic. I shove the child toward it and run. I get only a two-second lead, before the rest are after me again, slashing at my back with their claws, but I manage to get to the stairs and they fall back. They won’t venture into the world aboveground and that’s all that saves me. As soon as I’m in the open air of the public gardens, I fall to the ground, gasping for breath, my body shaking, convulsing, finally giving in to the damage.
I remember the gash on my side from when Gatsbro’s goons beat me. I know this damage is far worse. It’s everywhere. My back, my arms, my legs, my scalp. Is it blood running into my eyes, or BioPerfect? I reach down and feel the deep wound at my hip, the fabric ripped away by their sharp teeth. I bring my fingers to my face. Blood covers them, but worse, bright blue gel. I close my eyes and my hand falls to my side. The wounds are so deep, my BioPerfect is oozing out everywhere. I’m leaving telltale signs all over the ground. I have to get home before someone sees me. I drag myself to my feet and the world spins. I’m still programmed for pain and Gatsbro made sure it was my default. I concentrate, trying to force it away, knowing I can, but I can’t get past the wall. Miesha’s words vibrate through me. You can do it. Figure out a way. It’s too much and I fall to the ground again. I crawl to a nearby tree and use that to lean against as I try again to get to my feet. I look down at my shirt, covered in red and blue, and then I hear a honk. A cab sits at the curb and the window is down. “Need a ride?” the CabBot calls. “On the house.”
It’s the CabBot from the other night. Bob. The passenger door is open. Has he been following me? At this point, I don’t care. I have no choice but to rely on his help. I stumble across the lawn to the cab and fall in.
“Home?”
“Yeah,” I gasp. “It’s at—”
“I know where it is.”
As we turn the corner the last thing I see is a stream of Security Force vans descending on the gardens.
* * *
I don’t remember getting back to my apartment. I don’t know how I got up the stairs, but when I come to on the floor of the living room, I know I’m in deep trouble and there’s only one person who can help me. With my last bit of strength, I call her.
Panic
“Jenna.”
“Who is this?”
“Jenna,” I try again, but even words leave me winded.
“Locke?”
I swallow and take as deep a breath as I can manage. “I’m hurt, Jenna. I need a doctor. Someone good.”
“Locke, my God, what happened?”
“There’s blood and blue gel everywhere. I need someone who can really stitch, like you. Not like the one I had last time.”
Even through my pained haze I can hear the panic in her voice. “How did you—”
“He’s there, Jenna. I’m sure he’s alive. I was so close, but then—”
“I’m on my way, Locke. I’ll be there by—”
“No, Jenna. Not you. Someone here. Not you.”
“I can be there in a few hours. There is no one else. No one good enough who understands about the Bio Gel.”
“Jenna.”
The phone tab slips from my hand, and then the world slips away too.
* * *
Hazy voices call to me. I call back.
I try to find them. Reach them.
Jenna, no …
not you …
Dark … miles of darkness …
Where are we?
I’m here for you … always here …
Are you an Escapee?
Something more?
not you, Jenna …
the tunnels … endless black tunnels …
lipless grins … lidless eyes …
prisoners …
There. Again.
Miles and miles of …
I force my lids back and gasp for breath. Light. Blessed light.
But hovering in front of me is the last thing I want to see. Xavier’s sputtering face looms in and out of focus. When he sees my eyes open he walks away, yelling, “He’s awake!”
Jenna’s scowling face comes into view next. “You are not immortal, you know?”
I look around, orienting myself. The apartment. Thank God I’m back at the apartment. I try to pull myself up in the bed and groan in agony. Every inch throbs. I look at my chest and arms, a zigzag of cuts, repairs, and bandages. It looks like I’ve wrestled with a lion. Maybe five of them. Like the last time she patched me up, I’m naked from the waist up. I can guess that the lower half is the same, and even though I know Jenna has seen me before, I try to pull the sheet closer to my sides.
She isn’t done with me. She walks to the other side of the bed and pours me a glass of water, almost simultaneously waving her arms in the air, which is a feat in itself. “Honestly, Locke, you have your limits
just like anyone else! You’re only a boy with a few enhancements.”
“And drawbacks,” I add, noting how much I hurt.
“Oh yeah, you have plenty of those!”
I see the worry on her face.
“My God, it was like I was putting something back together that had been through a meat grinder!” She turns to Xavier. “And you have some explaining to do!”
“Stop!” A wave of pain slams me as I pull myself up in the bed. I lean back against the headboard, catching my breath.
Jenna turns to look at me and waits, fury painted all over her face.
I slowly draw air into my lungs, trying to minimize movement. “What I did last night was my decision. My choice.”
“Well, it was a poor choice, wasn’t it?” she snaps, and snatches up a pile of bandages on the table next to me.
I try to get up to prove her wrong, refusing to grimace even though my skull feels like it’s cracking in two, but Xavier easily pushes me back into my pillow. “I’m not picking you up off the floor again. Stay put.”
“I’m alive, so it wasn’t that bad of a decision, and I discovered something if anyone’s interested. He’s—”
“Shhh!” Jenna says, glancing at the doorway.
I hear arguing in the next room. I groan. “Don’t tell me Carver and Livvy are here too. One mishap and everyone’s breaking the rules and showing up?”
“Carver and Livvy are the least of your problems,” Jenna whispers.
“By a long shot,” Xavier adds.
I don’t even have time to worry about what they mean when the door swings open and I’m facing my worst nightmare.
Miesha.
I look at Jenna. “What’s she doing here?”
Miesha stomps closer. “What are you asking her for? I’m standing right here.” And she starts in on one of her tirades. I don’t even try to argue. I let her get it out of her system. She repeats what Jenna said already. I know, I know. I’m not immortal. I have my limits. When she’s done with me she moves on to Xavier, and then Carver and Livvy, telling them all the reasons they shouldn’t have put me in this kind of position and who did they think they were anyway? And then she comes back to me, wondering what I was doing down in the tunnels in the first place, “and what the hell is down there?”