“Your father—” I shake my head, not sure she can even fathom the importance of what I’m about to tell her. “Your real father was the leader of the Resistance. Without him to lead it, the Resistance died. People need him. Like all those Non-pacts you visited. Non-pact children who laugh and play and cry and have dreams and hopes just like any other child. Children just like the child you would have been.”
I watch everything in her struggling to maintain control, from the faint tremor of her fists, to her frozen pinpoint pupils. “Rebecca,” I whisper. “Your real name is Rebecca.”
I watch her eyes change, her pupils growing to large black circles, like she’s been drugged by the memory of another time when that name was whispered in her ear. A sound that’s vaguely familiar. She shakes her head and brushes past me, stopping at the arbor, almost hanging on to it, and then she turns, slowly sliding to the seat as if her legs will no longer support her.
I step back, wondering how I’ll tell her the rest, but it all has to be said.
She looks up at me, defiantly, waiting, like she’s regained her footing, found her way back to the old Raine who believes in nothing but distance, who has found a way to survive by not believing in anything at all. “Your time’s almost up,” she says.
“You wanted truth, Raine. And this is the rest of it. I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want you to respond. I just need you to listen, because I may not get another chance to say it. I’m telling you all of this because—
“Because something went wrong. Something happened. Something I never planned or anticipated. I was only traveling from one side of the country to the other trying to find a life. Trying to rebuild a life that was stolen from me. Because there’s another secret about myself that you need to know, maybe the biggest reason I never told you the truth, the thing I’ve always been terrified to reveal because I was afraid it would change your feelings about me.”
I pull the Swiss knife from my pack and pull out the largest blade. It’s the only way she’ll ever really believe what I’m about to tell her. I yank up my sleeve and swipe it across my arm, first blood, and then blue BioPerfect trickles from the wound. I hear her gasp. “This is the real me, Raine. Illegal in every possible way.”
Her mouth opens but she doesn’t speak. I tell her the whole story, my prior life, my years trapped in limbo, my new body, Kara, Jenna, being on the run, and Dot, who had more humanity in her than most humans I know. I tell her how I was trying to come to grips with my old life that had vanished, and understand the new one I had to live, the life I was trying to find here, until I finally come full circle, back to where I started. “But something went wrong.” I go well beyond my allotted ten minutes and she never moves, never blinks. I wonder if she’s even hearing me anymore, but when I finish she closes her eyes like she’s blocking me and the world out.
“Raine,” I whisper. I step closer, like I’m pleading for my life, pleading for us. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even want it. It was the worst possible thing that could happen, but it did happen. I fell in love. With you. That part of me was never fake. That’s probably the only real thing I have. I love you, Raine. I love you.”
She opens her eyes. I look at her face, every angle, every eyelash, every muscle struggling to hide what she’s feeling, but I still see it, so much pain, so much anger and fear, such a whirlwind of emotions that I can’t tell if there’s anything left in her for me. Her eyes glisten. I step toward her but she puts up her hand to stop me and shakes her head, unable to speak. Like if I take one more step she will crumble.
“I know I blew it. That’s a phrase from my time that means that I ruined the best chance I ever had of being happy, but that’s because even though I have BioPerfect beneath my skin, I’m still not perfect, just like I never was, and never will be. But if I could do everything over again, I would. Almost everything. Some things I’d want to stay exactly the same.”
I stare at her, waiting, hoping. Her eyes are fixed on mine, seconds passing, a tightrope, a lifetime of decisions churning in them.
She looks away, and my throat swells. It wasn’t the answer I wanted.
I walk over and grab my pack from the ground. “I’m still committed to what needs to be done. I’m not going to live my entire life on the run. I’m going down in that tunnel tomorrow night, with or without the information I need, with or without your help.”
“You might be killed.”
“That’s right. But time’s running out and there’s a man down there who believes in the same thing I do. We all have to believe in something, Raine. Even if it means there’s a risk. But our risks have to matter. If the only risk you ever want to take is walking on the ledges of rooftops, I guess that’s your choice.”
“How do I know everything you’re saying right now isn’t a lie too? Just to get what you need from me? Like before?”
I look in her eyes and shake my head, hoping she’ll look long enough and deep enough to see something in me that isn’t artificial and manufactured. More than anyone else in the world, I need her to see that. “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know how you can know anything for sure. It’s a risk. Something only you can figure out. If you don’t believe me, call the Secretary. Turn me in. Maybe I won’t even make it off this rooftop tonight. But at least I tried. I gave something I believed in a shot.”
I reach in my pack and throw her the eye of Liberty. Her reflexes are still fast, like the trained athlete she is, and she catches it. “Keep it,” I say. “It’s yours. I don’t want to find the other one without you.”
She doesn’t say anything, just grips the piece of glass in her fist.
“I guess my ten minutes are up,” I say.
“Yes,” she agrees. “They are.”
I leave, taking my rope from the chimney, her eyes following my every move, and I scale down her ladder, wondering if the truth is what she really wanted to hear at all.
The Smallest Things
Jenna looks up at the sky. “I wish I could stay. I actually miss the snow terribly. It’s one of those things you don’t realize you’ll miss until you can’t have it.” She looks back at me. “I’m sorry I have to go. I know it’s bad timing for—”
“You need to leave. I want you to. We all have our limitations. You have your Bio Gel, and I’m … I’m missing that magic ten percent of original human goo that would make me legal. We have to deal with what we have.”
She squeezes my hand and pulls me closer. “The world will change, Locke. Laws change … people change.”
I hear the inflection in her voice. I told her about Raine. She knows what’s eating at me more than anything else. People change. But sometimes not in the ways we had hoped.
“I’ll be okay,” I tell her.
This time it’s me leaving her at the train station. A low-pressure depression is sending an unseasonal arctic blast to Boston in two days. She called me early this morning. She has to leave before it comes.
“I wish you’d take Miesha with you. It’s not safe for her to be here.”
“She won’t leave, Locke. I can’t force her. Besides, you need to tell her about Rebecca. She deserves that much. It’s her right.”
It may be her right but it’s also a connection that could kill her. “Not yet. It’s too dangerous for her right now. In a few days the account will expire and then the Secretary won’t have any use for Miesha. I’ll call for her to come back then, but if she should find out about Raine before that—”
“She’ll stay put at the apartment. I told her she’d jeopardize your Favor and maybe your life if she didn’t. She doesn’t give a hoot about the Favor but she does care about you.”
She’d give a hoot about the Favor if she knew what it was all about. But I do wonder, if I’m even able to get Karden out of that hellhole, after so many years apart, will he and Miesha only be strangers? Will there be any love left between them? How long can … I take a deep breath. Raine. How many years does it take to stop loving someo
ne?
“I’m sorry, Locke. I know how much this hurts. But maybe she’ll—”
I put my hand up in the same way Raine did last night to stop Jenna from saying more.
“I told you, I’m okay,” I say firmly, and I smile, determined not to let thoughts of Raine show on my face again. “Say hello to Allys and Kayla for me. I’ll call as soon as I can.”
“Be careful,” she says.
I nod. “Always.”
She kisses my cheek and turns to leave but I stop her one last time. I hesitate, feeling foolish, maybe even afraid to hear her answer, but she’s the only one I can ask. “Do you ever get used to it, Jenna?”
“What’s that?”
“Not being who you once were … not being like everyone else?”
She looks at me, staring for the longest time, and finally reaches up, raking her fingers through my hair and then pulling a strand over my eye, exactly where my cowlick used to be. She frowns. “Being like everyone else is highly overrated.”
She turns and leaves. I watch her walk down the stairs to meet her train, my eyes never leaving her until she’s swallowed up by other travelers, and I wonder when and if I’ll ever see her again.
* * *
It’s still early, barely past breakfast, and I stroll through Quincy Market, most of the shops still closed, again wishing I could fast-forward the clock, wondering how I’ll fill the whole day waiting for night to come. But everything I told Raine last night was true. With or without her help, I’m going down tonight, down before Xavier and Carver think it’s time to implement Plan B, down before LeGru uses a scan on Karden that he might not survive. Down because if I can’t get any more information from the Secretary, there’s no reason to wait. All I’m doing is giving him more time to beat me to what we both want. I’ll have to use the little information I was able to get and trust my instincts for the rest.
I pass a bakery and am caught off guard when the shopkeeper waves me down, remembering me from my visit with Livvy.
“Hello, Locke. Nice to see you again. How’s your mother?” I open my mouth to answer but then notice that one of her fingers is torn away, the digital coils glowing. I had no idea she was a Bot. She’s as realistic as they come, imperfect, wrinkled, plump around the middle. She sees me staring. “Little accident. Reached too far into the mixer. Bot Repair comes tomorrow.” She smiles, but there’s nothing more about her. Her eyes are focused and bright, but dead. She is perfectly programmed. Friendly, efficient, but nothing beyond that. How does the more happen with some and not others? How did it happen with Dot? We dream. We imagine. Dot’s voice is still clear in my head, a unique voice that was hers alone. It’s a voice I desperately needed to hear right now, to remind me of the whole meaning of the Favor.
The Bot waits politely for my response. “My mother’s fine, thank you,” I reply.
She offers me a curly protein sample and tells me they’re on special, two for one. I pass and move on.
It’s way too early for lunch but I remember the Italian sub I had here a few weeks ago—a taste of home, something real, comfort food—unfortunately I have no money left to pay for one. I sit down at an empty outdoor table and rummage through my pack. Could I barter with the two unused phone tabs? I notice the knife in the bottom. I should have given it to Raine last night. It’s the only thing left of her father’s—
I freeze.
I don’t even have to look.
He carried that thing with him everywhere he went.… His father gave it to him.… It’s the one Karden left at my house the day before he disappeared.
Karden did have a backup plan and Carver had it all along.
I grab the knife and instinctively pull out the smallest blade. Sometimes it’s the smallest and most innocent things you have to watch out for. I run my finger across the tiny engraved numbers that might pass for a product code.
Carver and Xavier need to be told right away. I flip my palm to call when it ripples. I’m about to swipe my iScroll, thinking that for once Carver finally has good timing, but then I see it isn’t him.
It’s Raine.
I hesitate, almost afraid to know why she’s calling, but I swipe anyway, more afraid to miss a chance to talk to her.
I immediately see desperation in her eyes.
“My father’s leaving for an appointment in twenty minutes,” she whispers. “He’ll be out of the house for two hours. Come and get the information you need. I don’t want your death on my hands. I’ll have the front desk let you up.”
She clicks off before I can say a word. It all happens so fast. A few seconds and she’s gone. Breathless instructions that leave me breathless too.
I don’t want your death on my hands. These last few words reverberate louder than anything else she said. Was she calling only out of a sense of duty, or is she trying to protect something she still cares about?
Twenty minutes. I throw the knife back in my pack and run at breakneck speed, dodging cars and pedestrians, my coat flapping behind me like black wings. I make it to the Commons in fifteen minutes, gasping for air. From a hidden vantage point, I watch the apartments. Just as Raine said, in a few minutes I see the Secretary’s car emerge from the garage and drive away.
I call Carver and Xavier. I talk fast, not giving them a chance to speak. “It’s happening today. Now. I have to move fast. The Secretary’s gone and Raine’s giving me access to his office. I’ve found the missing account numbers too. They were on Karden’s knife. Meet me at the entrance to the Arlington station. I don’t know what kind of shape he’ll be in when I bring him out.”
Assuming we make it out.
They sputter and try to ask questions but I don’t give them a chance. I sign off and tell Percel, no calls. None. From here on out, I don’t want a single moment of distraction.
* * *
After racing across town in the crisp air, the elevator ride is slow and suffocating. The nine floors up seem like nineteen. It’s only paranoia setting in, I tell myself. It’s all happening too fast.
But really, it isn’t fast. It’s been months and years in coming. It’s happened in skipped meals, sacrificed freedoms, crumbled homes, and slivers of hope clutched in broken hands. And because of these past weeks I’ve spent with Raine, for me it’s been a lifetime.
The elevator finally stops.
One, two, three endless seconds.
And the door slides open.
Calculated Control
She’s there.
Waiting.
Her eyes are as wide and open and beautiful as I’ve ever seen them. No distance. Her brown irises as deep as night, shadowed by lashes that refuse to blink. The green eye of Liberty is cupped in her hand, like it hasn’t left that spot since I threw it to her last night. She doesn’t have to say a word. I know. She didn’t call me just because she doesn’t want my death on her hands. I step out and she takes a hesitant step toward me. I shake my head, unable to say more than a hoarse “Raine.”
She falls into my arms, hugging me so tightly, I think that she’ll never let go. I don’t want her to. Not ever. I squeeze her back just as fiercely, my face lost in her hair, breathing in every lost moment. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
She says the same thing to me through tears, and then she’s kissing me, her cheeks and lips salty and wet. She finally pulls back, her wet lashes clumped together, her eyes fixed on mine. There’s so much more to say, but there isn’t time and we both know it. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stairs that lead down.
Midway on the stairs, she stops abruptly and turns. “Locke, my mother—my adoptive mother—wasn’t part of it. She didn’t know what he did. She really did love me. I know she did. All she ever wanted—” Her voice cracks and she swallows. “All she ever wanted was a baby and she said I was her answered prayer. A gift from heaven.” Her eyes glisten with tears she forces back. “She was a good mother.”
I know she needs to hold on to the good in her life, just like I h
old on to memories to validate my past. It can’t all be a waste. I squeeze her hand and nod understanding. She grips my hand tighter, letting out a deep cleansing breath, and we continue down the stairs. The house is unusually still and quiet. The only sounds are the creaks of our steps in the hallways. “Where’s Hap?” I ask.
“No one’s home. Father sent Hap on an errand.”
“An errand? Isn’t he supposed to stick by your side?”
“Usually. But Father needed something and he had already given Dorian and Jory the day off.”
We reach the Secretary’s office and I push the door open. Unlike the last time I was here the office is in meticulous order, but conveniently one file has been left open, which is good news for me. It means the whole system hasn’t been shut down and hopefully I can access the folder with the red triangle again—the one with blueprints for the lighting system in the tunnels.
I walk around to the desk. Raine waits on the opposite side as I explain what I’m looking for. With one touch after another, folders open and files fill the air, including the blueprints.
“I’ve got it,” I say. I read the map, finding the third and fourth light pads in the tunnel, when something begins happening with the files. One by one they converge back into a single pile, like they’re on autopilot. I try to grab them out of the air, spreading them back out again, but in seconds, they’re stacked into one unreadable pile—and finally a note flutters to the top. A handwritten note.
The hairs on my arms rise.
Raine must see something on my face and she races around the desk to see what I’m looking at.
We both stare at the note.
Welcome, Locke.
“Step behind me,” I whisper to Raine. She doesn’t move. “Step back,” I say again, using my arm to push her behind me.
The office door swings open. LeGru enters, flanked by two Security Force officers, one of them heavily armed with a gun that looks like it could take down a whole army with one blast.