Faith thought about the red chair flying across the room and ending up where it once was. The chair didn’t move. It sat there like it was bolted to the floor.
“Wait, something’s not right. This usually works.”
Faith focused her mind as hard as she could, scrunching her eyes to mere slits as she willed the red chair to move. When nothing happened, Faith became frustrated and turned away from Meredith just in time to see the green apple fly away. Faith heard the pop sound when Meredith caught it at the far end of the room.
Meredith held out the green apple, letting it balance on the palm of her hand.
“Let’s try this instead.”
Faith didn’t bother turning around. She knew the apple had arrived in Meredith’s hand and hoped she could do something about it. She thought of the apple, her emotions tied up in knots, and then she felt the apple brush by her head and slam into the concrete wall, bursting into pieces.
“Were you trying to do that, or was it an accident?” Meredith asked calmly.
Faith felt like she was failing whatever test she was being given and used her mind to try the red chair again. This time she felt the sharp pain in her neck, which buckled her over. When she recovered, both Meredith and the red chair had returned.
“It’s okay. Red is a common problem at the beginning. Nothing to worry about. Not yet anyway.”
“So you’re like me,” Faith said, intrigued but also afraid. The woman before her was clearly a lot more advanced in her ability than Faith would probably ever be.
Meredith ignored the question. “Science is a tricky business, especially when people are in a rush. Normally there are rules, regulations, a lot of red tape. A paper trail is an awfully nice thing to have when you can get one.”
“I’m going to assume you’re telling me this for a reason.”
“There was a moment in history,” Meredith went on, “when there was no time for regulations, documentation, anything that might slow progress. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Dylan and I discussed it. He said I had some of my facts wrong. I asked which ones, but he wouldn’t say. Apparently it’s above his pay grade.”
“I’m encouraged to see you still have your sense of humor,” Meredith said, though Faith was quite sure it wouldn’t make it through the rest of their conversation.
“Hotspur Chance was given authority to do things no man should be allowed to do. So begin there—no rules—and imagine what might happen. Then you must always remember that Chance was not an ordinary man. He was one in a trillion, by all accounts the smartest person who had ever lived. The reason this is important is because it makes him—and his motives—unknowable. Even if you doubled the IQ of the smartest people on Earth, they would be halfwits compared to Hotspur Chance. And when you get into that kind of thinking, one has to imagine a certain godlike quality.”
“You mean he had a god complex?” Faith knew what this was from one of her many classes, though she couldn’t say for sure exactly how she’d come by the information.
“No,” Meredith said. “I mean he is, in a sense, like a god to us whether we like it or not. He understood the universe, our world, our bodies, our minds—all in ways that go far beyond what we know of ourselves. It might have a way of compromising one’s morals.”
Faith felt like Meredith was dancing around all sorts of things she didn’t really want to say or wanted Faith to figure out on her own. It was maddening how she wouldn’t just say what she meant. Either way, Faith wasn’t getting the information she wanted and decided to play along.
“Everyone worships the ground Hotspur Chance walked on, but he had ultimate authority to do whatever he wanted,” Faith said. “He put the smartest people in the world into a facility and removed every rule that had ever been made about tampering with DNA, cells, reproduction, weaponry, human testing—all of it, anything he could think of, absolutely no rules. No documentation, no one to answer to, and unlimited access to resources. Whatever he wanted, he got. No questions asked.”
Meredith was pleased with the response. She was getting somewhere.
“And out of that came the States,” Faith concluded. She mulled over the rest of her answer before saying it. “Did Hotspur Chance make me like this?”
“How we got to you is a little more complicated than that, but yes. He and his associates saved the world—a worthy goal—but they unlocked some other things in the process.”
“What did they unlock?”
“They found the pulse first and, realizing its devastating power, quarantined those who had it. There were twelve. You can probably guess who one of them was.”
“Hotspur Chance.”
Meredith nodded slowly. “They weren’t just able to move things with their minds; they were also violent. There’s no record of why this was so; but a week later, only one of them was alive.”
“Hotspur Chance,” Faith said. It was starting to feel like a mantra, this man’s name on her lips.
“He was the first to find the second pulse, the one that could move things and also be unmoved. Dylan explained this, am I right?”
Faith nodded. “He has it, too. Nothing touches him. He was disappointed that I didn’t get it.”
Meredith’s expression indicated that she, too, was disappointed.
“Shortly after that, we know only two more things that occurred: the plans for the States were developed in great detail over a stunningly short amount of time, and the first Intel was created.”
“I’ve never heard that term. Intel?” Faith said. She did remember Dylan saying something about an intelligence movement. The two things sounded connected, but she didn’t mention it.
“Remember, no rules, no regulations,” Meredith said. “It was an anything-goes environment.”
Meredith paused, her gaze locked on Faith. “Hotspur Chance found a way to bond his own DNA to existing people. They were his hosts. He needed more brain power, and he needed it fast. These people were called Intels.”
“That’s terrible,” Faith said. “He was like a parasite. How many people did he infect?”
“Interesting choice of words,” Meredith said. “I prefer to think of them as still who they were, only much smarter. And remember, without the Intels there would be no States. Sometimes a terrible thing is required in order to fix a great many problems.”
Meredith looked at the envelope sitting on the chair, then back at Faith. She had known this would be a difficult transaction, because the contents of the envelope had the power to change Faith’s life forever.
“In a moment, two people are going to sit in these empty chairs. After that it’s going to get tougher. Are you ready?”
Faith knew her parents were about to enter the room and lord over her their weird ideas. She tried to tell herself that it was fine. She hadn’t seen them in four months, and deep down she did miss them. She only wished the circumstances could be different. Somehow, it felt like her parents had set everything in motion without telling her. Now they’d ambushed Faith in a basement with the help of crazy Meredith.
“Take the envelope. Keep it for a later time,” Meredith said.
“Before you bring them in, I have a question,” Faith said, leaning over and taking the envelope and holding it in her hand.
Meredith didn’t signal her willingness to answer or not, so Faith went ahead.
“How many people are there like us?”
Meredith lowered her chin slightly, smiling softly.
“I don’t know how many they have.”
“They? What do you mean, ‘they’?”
Meredith ignored the question.
“It’s complicated.”
“Did you know it’s impossible to get a straight answer out of you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
Faith heard the door open at the far end of the room. It was a heavy door with a squeak that echoed annoyingly across the emptiness. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and watch he
r parents approach. Instead, she closed her eyes and reminded herself to make the most of this. She was determined not to pick a fight even if she felt manipulated or belittled. She would not give them a guilt trip for leaving her. She would take comfort in the knowledge that they loved her in their own way. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made with Liz, because who really knew when someone could be swept up into the Western State and never be seen outside again?
Faith opened her eyes and stood. She could feel her parents getting nearer; and putting on a brave face, she turned in their direction with her arms held out.
“Mom? Dad?” she said, but even in the dimmest of light, she knew it wasn’t so. This was not her mother and father coming toward her; it was Dylan and Hawk. The two of them didn’t speak as they each sat down, one on either side of Faith’s chair. Hawk had been carrying a cloth bag at his side, which he set on the floor next to him.
“Where are my parents?” Faith asked. She sat down in her own chair and flashed a brief smile at Hawk. She was happy, but confused, to see him.
“Go ahead,” Meredith said. “But shut the door first. And lock it.”
Dylan didn’t look at the door they’d entered as Faith heard it shut, the deadbolt turning coldly into place. It struck her then that the door was red, a detail that hadn’t seemed to matter until this very moment.
“The night you were with Wade Quinn,” Dylan said, never taking his eyes off Faith, “he gave you two Wire Codes because he didn’t want you to remember what happened. A team of Drifters were in that building, keeping an eye on everything, making sure you were safe. Some of those Drifters had a first pulse, and one of them accidentally moved something.”
“Okay,” Faith said. “What’s that got to do with my parents?”
“They were in that group of Drifters. They were there the night you and Wade entered the building.”
The first thing that crossed her mind was Oh no, they saw him take advantage of me. That can’t be good.
“I’m not the only one with a second pulse,” Dylan said. “Wade has it, too. He knew the Drifters were there.”
Faith’s mind flashed with an image of Drifters flying against walls, their brains being bashed into lockers. She shook her head, and the image was gone.
“Don’t say it,” Faith said. She touched the secret spot on her neck where the tattoo of the battered hawk lay hidden.
“Wade Quinn killed ten Drifters that night,” Meredith said, unwilling or unable to let Dylan carry the heaviest part of the load. “Two of those Drifters were your parents.”
Faith’s hands began to shake as she stared at the concrete floor. The envelope fell out of her hand, and she looked up at Hawk, who would not look her in the eye. He was so small and young, like a little brother she wanted to protect. And yet all she could think of was how much she wanted to throw him into a wall.
“I know it’s hard,” Meredith said. “But try to control your rage. Don’t let it get the better of you. You’ll only regret it.”
Faith clenched her fists and tried to clear her head. Her parents were dead. Wade Quinn had killed them. It was him she needed to punish, not Hawk. Hawk was her friend. She looked at him again and saw that he had his hand buried in the bag he’d brought with him, an alarmed look on his face. He had hold of something she could not see.
“They understood the risks,” Meredith said. “And they didn’t die for nothing. The envelope is from them.”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way.”
Faith was so angry she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to lash out at everyone in the room for dragging her family into things they didn’t understand. She wanted to take back the way she’d felt about her parents. She was owed a chance to talk with them and make things right, to say the things she was supposed to say. But she’d never have that chance now.
“She’s still calm enough,” Meredith said. “Better finish.”
“Stop confusing me!” Faith screamed. “I hate you!”
“You’re about to hate me more,” Meredith said; and for the first time, Faith heard a glimmer of compassion in her voice. “Hawk received a message from inside the State today. Your friend Liz is also gone. I’m not going to sugarcoat this, because you’re going to find out and it’s better if you do so in a secure location. She was hit with a hammer during the games. It was thrown by a woman with no known connections to our . . . situation.”
It couldn’t be true. It was too much agony in the space of too little time. And yet Faith’s mind was reeling with so much violent emotion, she couldn’t get to a place where remorse waited. She watched as Hawk removed a large swath of red fabric from the bag he’d brought with him.
“Was Clara Quinn on the field when it happened?” Faith asked.
Meredith and Dylan didn’t answer as they watched Hawk drape the red fabric over his shoulders like a warm blanket.
“Tell me!” Faith screamed. She stood, and the chair beneath her flew up in the air behind her, careening across the room and smashing into the wall. “Was she on the field?”
Dylan stood and moved between Faith and Hawk. “She was.”
That was all Faith needed to hear. Suddenly she knew the truth. Liz had no strategic value in whatever game was being played. It was Faith whom Clara was trying to hurt, no one else.
“So Wade Quinn killed my parents. And Clara Quinn killed my best friend. Is that where we stand?”
“Dylan?” Meredith said. Her voice betrayed fear, which Faith wanted more than anything to seize on.
“Everyone in this room is on your side,” Dylan said. “We all want the same thing you do.”
“And what’s that?” Faith asked. The chair Dylan had sat in lurched forward, then blasted up in the air, its legs twisting and turning toward Meredith. Meredith raised a hand, and the chair flew in the other direction, crashing into the wall.
“Better get this under control, Dylan,” Meredith said. “Or you might be the only one that gets out of here alive.”
Faith didn’t want to move. She tried to hold her ground, willing herself to stay; but she was drifting closer to Dylan, and she couldn’t get it to stop.
“Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” she screamed. But before she could stop it from happening, Dylan had his arms wrapped around her. All the rage inside her tried to get out as she fought to break free, but there was nothing in the world that could have made Dylan Gilmore let her go. He held on as she kicked and screamed and tried to hurt him any way she could. When she finally went limp in his arms, all the anger turned to regret and sadness, she whispered something in his ear that only he could hear.
“It’s my fault. They’re all dead because of me.”
Dylan knew it wasn’t true and so he held her tighter still, whispering over and over again, “Not true. Not true. Not true.”
Minutes passed.
“Let her go,” Meredith said. “It’s over.”
Meredith understood more than anyone else what the end of a pulsing rage looked like. She’d lived through plenty of them. Dylan slowly let Faith go. When Faith looked at Hawk, he was still covered in the red fabric. He removed it, stuffing it into the bag as he took something else out.
“I brought this for you,” he said softly.
He handed over his most precious possession, The Sneetches, which he had taken from the old grade school on the night he’d been there with Faith and Liz.
Faith reached out her hand and thought of Liz, how she loved to sit and read in the abandoned library for hours on end. She held it to her chest and tried to imagine a world in which Liz and her parents didn’t exist.
Meredith took a breath and decided the room was safe once more.
“We come now to another one of those unfortunate moments,” she began. “Where there is no time.”
Faith felt a kind of sad relief at the idea of putting off the pain of having to process all her feelings. This war she’d stepped into unwillingly had given her
at least the smallest mercy.
“There are those who want to destroy everything the States seek to create,” Meredith said. “Everything good that came from Hotspur Chance is the States. Hold other things against him, but not that. Nothing is perfect; but without the States, humankind would be in far worse condition and only getting worse. They’re a brilliant invention, and they need to be protected at all cost.”
“It’s our job to keep them safe,” Hawk said.
“No offense,” Faith said, “but what have you got to do with any of this?”
Dylan looked a little sheepish, like he’d kept a secret from Faith. “He’s a third-generation Intel. Very rare.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Faith asked. Her mind was reeling with questions about how this was possible, but she was pretty sure in time they’d tell her how Hawk had come to be the smartest boy on Earth.
“Faith,” Meredith said, and then she reached out and took her hand. Faith was surprised to find that it was very soft, and suddenly she was crying, unable to stop the tears from coming. “If we can find your second pulse, we can turn the tide. It’s in you—Dylan can feel it. The question is, How deep? You, Dylan, and Hawk—you three might prevail against a great evil.”
Faith understood. She only had a single pulse. If a hammer hit her in the side of the head, it wouldn’t matter how many she’d thrown the other way. She’d be a goner. It was only the second pulse that mattered in a real confrontation, and somewhere hidden inside, she had one.
“Take the envelope; read it later,” Meredith said, lifting it off the floor with her mind and letting it hover in front of Faith. “It’s from your parents.”
“Can I please sit outside, on the roof?” Faith asked. “I can’t stand it down here. I need to think. Alone.”
Meredith looked at Dylan for some reassurance. Could she be trusted not to do anything stupid? Had she calmed down enough?
“Promise me you won’t go anywhere else,” Dylan said. “Just to the roof, and don’t fly. I’ll come find you in an hour, and we’ll get going.”
“Going?” Faith asked.
Meredith was convinced it would be okay to give Faith an hour, but that was the limit. Clooger was already gathering the rest of the Drifters for their long trek south.