Surrender Page 12

  The clone pivoted and retreated the way it had come. Zenn and I continued toward the ascender box in the corner.

  Something buzzed in my head, zinged along my bones. I’d never felt this level of anger before. Anger at myself. At Raine. At Zenn. At everyone I could think of. But mostly at my crap-controlled life, and how I’d let myself be told what to do and what to believe for almost seventeen years.

  “Laboratory seven,” I barked as soon as my board cleared the glittering lights in the ascender.

  We need stealth. Settle down, Zenn instructed just before I shot upward.

  When I landed, I was anything but settled. I stumbled forward, unable to see but determined to do something.

  Zenn’s footsteps landed nearby. When I heard him curse out loud, I knew we were in big trouble.

  Panic spiked, making my throat constrict. “Wh-what?” I choked out, my vision still blurry.

  “I don’t believe it,” Zenn breathed.

  I blinked furiously, willing my eyes to work again. As soon as they did, I thought for sure they’d malfunctioned.

  Behind a wall of glass, Raine slumped in an ergonomic. Blood trickled down one corner of her slack mouth.

  Raine

  16.

  Thane didn’t wear gloves. Just that gaudy golden ring that flashed under the bright tech lights. His right hand bore a row of bandages across his knuckles. His skin against mine set every cell on fire. I tried yanking my hand away, but he held me fast.

  “Play nice, Rainey,” he said.

  I didn’t respond. I let my hatred of him explode into something more powerful than anything I’d ever felt. The injustice of it all twisted my insides.

  “I can’t do this,” I said, desperate now. “If you make me do this drain, you’ll kill me.” I knew it, felt it deep inside.

  “Raine.” It wasn’t Thane who answered, but Jag. The sound of his voice, raspy and weak, felt like a slap across the face. I looked at him, and he pleaded with those cold eyes. He hadn’t spoken; he couldn’t have, not through all the tape and silencers.

  Yet I’d heard him say my name.

  Don’t believe everything you hear. Cash’s warning could apply to almost every situation in my life. And I hated that more than injustice. More than Thane.

  Trapped inside my bubble of hopelessness and hatred, I vaguely felt Thane paint my hand with perma-plaster. I barely felt the chill of Jag’s skin.

  “I won’t do this,” I growled through clenched teeth.

  “Like you have a choice.” Thane slapped two live-streaming stickers on my temples and turned to fiddle with his gadgets.

  He was right. I had no choice. Already, dark shapes danced in my head. They darted across my vision-screen, taking on distinct colors and forms.

  I locked eyes with Jag again. I won’t do this, I thought, sending it to him hard, even though he didn’t have a cache implant and couldn’t hear me. He closed his eyes in a long blink as if to say, Then don’t do it.

  I don’t have a choice. Tears accompanied this thought, because it was so, so true. I had very few choices in my life.

  Something inside me roared. I grasped for that strong part of myself, the part that could choose, the part that wouldn’t sit idly by while I completed another drain. While I died.

  A face flashed across my v-screen.

  A face I knew well.

  Vi’s face.

  I snapped my attention back to Jag, who was watching me. A raging fire burned in his eyes.

  “I won’t do this,” I said, hardly more than a whisper. I pushed against the image of Vi’s face. It withered into a curl of indigo smoke and disappeared, leaving my vision-screen blank.

  More shapes formed, hooded and dark. I caught hold of the strong part of myself and pushed and pushed and pushed. I thought I’d closed my eyes because everything in the lab turned black. But when I blinked, I couldn’t tell the difference between open and shut.

  Far away, Thane yelled my name. He put his slimy hands on me. I jerked away, still fighting against the images coming from Jag’s drain. Every muscle in my body begged for release. But I sat straighter and clenched my fists tighter. My jaw felt on the verge of breaking.

  “I won’t do this,” I said through my teeth. I would not be bent. Not to drain Jag—someone who held valuable secrets, maybe even some of mine.

  “You must,” Thane said, his foul breath billowing against my cheek. “You stop whatever it is you’re doing and let those images come up on the screen.”

  “I won’t—”

  “You must!” Thane pinched my chin between his fingers, yanking my head upward at a sharp angle. I snapped my teeth and came down on flesh. Blood flooded my mouth, the dark walls crowded closer, and Thane’s scream filled the void.

  “I won’t do this!” My words covered up Thane’s fury, bounced off the silver walls I couldn’t see, battled against the caging glass.

  “I won’t do this!” I pushed and pushed and pushed against Jag’s deepest desires until I couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything … Couldn’t feel…

  “I won’t do this,” I murmured through sluggish lips. My body felt limp. Darkness blanketed me, and I gratefully sank into it.

  Gunner

  17.

  Someone gripped my hands, pulled them behind my back. I heard a voice, but I couldn’t form the sounds into words.

  All I saw was Raine. And the blood. So much blood.

  My throat hurt, and I realized it was because I was shouting her name.

  Thane’s face slammed against the glass, all rage and wild abandon. He looked unhinged, and that scared me into silence.

  Zenn’s words penetrated the numb feeling spreading south from my mind. “Look at his hand.”

  He’d used his voice, and I allowed myself to feel the power of it. So I looked at Thane’s hand. In less than a second I took in the hemal-recyclers he held against a series of puncture wounds. I felt a flash of triumph. Good fight, Raine, I thought. Now Thane had two damaged hands.

  “She’s okay. Let’s go,” Zenn said, releasing my wrists. He looked through the windowed wall at Thane and said, “I’ll take care of it.”

  It = me. Zenn was going to play Informant here.

  “She’s okay? Let’s go?” My voice squeaked. “You’ll take care of it?”

  Zenn tapped my shoulder. “We really have to go.” He cast a long glance at Thane before striding away.

  You really do, the voice of assistance came over my cache. Officers have landed. Use the roof.

  I hated Trek then, more than ever. He surely sat, safe and secure, in his crap-hole tent, eavesdropping on my life. And then bossing me around. I didn’t need an assistant. At least not right now.

  I had hundreds of words piling up inside me, but none of them formed into sentences. Somehow my legs followed Zenn to the descender rings. But he wasn’t standing in the box to go down.

  We took an ascender—up—to the roof, left Rise One via hoverboard, and climbed into the sky. With each passing foot, the air got cleaner and colder. Soon it had cleared away the numbness clouding my head, but nothing could erase what I’d seen in that lab.

  Even beaten up and strapped to a table, I’d recognized the guy featured in at least two dozen reports.

  Jag Barque.

  Neither Zenn nor I wanted to disturb the silence in the sky. I rode sitting down, thinking back to the night I’d lingered up here with Raine. That night I’d left my (somewhat) secure life. That night I’d left my mom.

  I inhaled slowly, trying to capture the same smell that had been present that night. But this high up, there was no smell. So much had changed since Friday. I’d held Raine in my arms, stroked her hair. She’d let me. And stars alive, I never thought I’d see Raine Hightower cry.

  As if Zenn had been following along with my thoughts, he said, “You better watch yourself with Raine. And we need to talk about Jag.”

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to drift above the city forever, not thinking, not doing an
ything. “You talk about him.” Anything I said to junior-assistant-Informant-status Zenn was sure to be repeated to Hightower in bite-size pieces.

  Zenn leaned back on his hoverboard. He looked relaxed, as if he spent hours lounging around in the sky. “He’s the reason you got recruited.”

  I tried to hear the hidden meaning behind his words. “I don’t get it. I’ve never even heard of the guy.”

  “The Director couldn’t have him.” Zenn cleared his throat. “So he recruited you.”

  “Super,” I said, thinking it was anything but.

  “Yeah, super.”

  This time I turned to study Zenn. He gazed at the horizon, a frown etched into his eyebrows. “You don’t like him.”

  “It’s not that. He and I—we—it’s not that.” Emotions battled across his face. I felt them pouring off him: loyalty, friendship, anger, hatred, desperation, brotherly love. Jag made all kinds of warring things take place inside Zenn.

  “Then what is it?”

  “He … complicates things.”

  I exhaled, pushing all the air out of my lungs. I took a cleansing breath. “Uncomplicate it.”

  “Jag is the leader of the Resistance. I was his spy in my homeland a couple years back. Thane found out, and he threatened to take away what mattered most to me—his daughter, Violet—if I didn’t turn Informant.” He looked at me, and now I felt his shame, sadness, love.

  “I did it, and Jag was furious. He lost a lot when he lost me.” Zenn cleared his throat, and it was the first time I’d seen him look anything but 100 percent collected.

  “When Jag left, he put his second-in-command in charge. A girl named Indiarina Blightingdale.” He took a deep breath. “Indy and I have been communicating since I arrived. She’s following Jag’s plan, and since I’ve been here, I’ve implemented everything she’s told me.”

  My brain spun, working hard to keep up. “So you’re …”

  “I’m Freedom’s liaison to the Resistance. I also lead the Insiders.”

  A maniacal laugh threatened to escape. “No wonder you don’t have time to sleep.” Now I knew why he could act the part of Mr. Cool As Ice, Mr. Oh So Right, and Mr. Don’t Mess With Me. It also made sense why he never attended school. I wondered what exactly he did during his “training sessions,” but didn’t ask.

  “Trek does what I can’t.” Zenn settled his gaze on me, and I felt the weight of it deep inside. “He’s a genius with tech. He’s the reason we can talk right now without anyone hearing.”

  I couldn’t help the scoff of annoyance that escaped.

  “You don’t have to like him,” Zenn said. “But he’s the one who gets my messages out of Freedom. He’s the one who keeps the communication open between the groups of Insiders. And he can scramble almost any form of communication.”

  With every word, my dislike for Trek grew. Zenn had said I didn’t have to like Trek—and I didn’t.

  “How many groups of Insiders are there in Freedom?” I asked.

  “Seven,” Zenn said. “I’m surprised it took you so long to join.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Your match has been in for years.”

  If anything, this revelation only deepened my annoyance. “Yeah, well, she and I aren’t exactly close.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I reran everything he’d told me about the Insiders. I tried to make it fit with what I knew about the Darwinian Episode and our current form of government.

  In our genetics classes, we were taught that all evolved people—like me, like Zenn, like Raine—had a responsibility to lead the general population. Our current brand of “leading” included brainwashing through transmissions and complete force. Those who didn’t comply simply didn’t belong.

  The Association’s motto went like this: “The strong lead the weak.”

  The Resistance was something I wasn’t sure I believed existed until Zenn had spoken the word. Rumored—I guess now confirmed—to be run by evolved people who didn’t want to use their talents to compel others to live a certain way. Like Jag Barque.

  Now that I’d had a taste of living life my own way, I had to admit I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do, how to live, who to love.

  Zenn shifted on his board, drawing my attention back to him. “I haven’t mentioned my allegiance to the Resistance to anyone else, especially Vi. Because when Jag met her, well, let’s just say they clicked.”

  “Clicked?”

  “They’re Chokers.” The words clipped out of Zenn’s mouth, like they’d make him sick if they stayed unsaid too long.

  “That sucks for you,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t know this Jag guy, or this Vi chick either, but I knew Zenn.

  “Yeah.” He turned away from me, his words cutting through the sky. “When he met her, he realized how important she was. I think he finally understood why I turned. He’d do anything to keep her safe, just like I will.”

  Like I could argue or agree. “What now?” I asked.

  “I’ve never seen Jag controlled before,” Zenn said, so quietly it took me a minute to piece the sounds into words. “This is cruel of me, but I don’t want him and Vi to get back together.”

  “I get that,” I said. I thought of Cannon’s friendship with Raine, and I wished I could have that kind of relationship—and more—with her. “I get it,” I repeated.

  When Zenn spoke again, his voice bowed with sadness. “I can’t get Vi’s memories back. If I do anything too drastic, the Director will know it was me.” His breath shuddered on the way in. “Maybe if she saw Jag again … maybe that would wake her up. But if she sees him and remembers, I’m nobody. In more ways than one.”

  “You think she’d pick him over you?”

  “Yes.” Zenn didn’t hesitate, not even for a fraction of a second.

  “Okay, so we don’t let them get together.”

  “But if it’ll help her, then we should. She’s vital to the Insiders. The Director wants to use her talents for his own plans.”

  “Which plans are those?”

  Zenn sighed. “Same as for all of us. Me, you, Raine, Starr. He wants to use us to control people.”

  “But he already controls people.” A lot of them. He was a Regional Director. Only one person held more power than him—the General Director.

  “More people.” Zenn looked at me, and I recognized the worry in his eyes. “So what should we do about Vi?”

  “I have no idea.” I yawned, feeling the winter chill seep into my bones. “But I know one thing: with Jag here, I’ll be a nobody too.”

  “Voices are never nobodies,” Zenn said. “At least that’s what the Director keeps telling me.”

  * * *

  Raine didn’t show up for school the next day. I wanted to convene an Insider meeting immediately. We had to rescue her.

  Trek denied my request. Four times.

  I couldn’t think anything but jerk. Jerk, jerk, jerk.

  Wednesday bled into Thursday, and still Trek wouldn’t meet.

  When I cornered him in the Education Rise during Thursday’s lunch period, he said, “We only meet on weekends. Deal with it.”

  “But Raine—”

  “She’s fine,” Trek snapped. “We have people on the Inside everywhere. Our intel indicates that she’s fine. Back off, voice wonder.” He straightened his already pristine school uniform. “We meet tomorrow night. I’ll have one of my people send you the coordinates.”

  One of his people, right. As if he didn’t have the time to e-comm out coordinates. I glared at him, almost wishing he’d hit me so I could feel the physical pain. So I could bleed out some of this anxiety over Raine.

  He smiled, but it looked more like a scowl. “Pay attention to the arrival time. We can’t interfere with other people’s airspace.” Then he walked away. I watched him go, angry that he’d mentioned airspace. I’d been bumped in the flight trials; I hadn’t deliberately encroached on his airspace.

  My
anger/shame/guilt/impatience turned into desperation. How could Trek go to class every day and tap out reports on ancient civilizations?

  How did he stand it?

  I couldn’t.

  I felt trapped inside my own life, the normalcy of it burying me deep within folds of unbreathable air, the hours until the Friday meeting mocking and eternal.

  I sat in genetics class, staring at Raine’s empty seat, even when Starr glared so hard I should’ve had new holes burned in my head.

  Preoccupied as I was, I still noticed that Cannon’s seat remained empty all week too.

  Worry gnawed at me, until I felt empty and limp.

  * * *

  Friday at one a.m. finally arrived. Without Raine, I felt naked in front of a group of strangers. The younger Insiders watched me from the corners of their eyes. The older ones stared openly.

  I ignored them all, found a shadow in the back of the warehouse where we’d met, and hid.

  Ten minutes later Trek emerged from a half-lit room, lines of exhaustion already carved around his eyes. I knew how he felt. Raine occupied my every thought, and sleep had eluded me.

  Trek scanned the waiting group. “Did the voice-wonder show?”

  I wanted to fly across the room and punch him. Too many witnesses, I decided. “I’m here,” I said unnecessarily. Everyone was already staring at me when I stepped out of the pool of shade. “What’s the news with Raine?”

  Trek made a guttural noise that meant what a lame question.

  He didn’t answer it, instead crossing his arms over that too-big chest. “Assignments for tonight include caching in everything learned over the past week.” At least while he talked, the other Insiders weren’t staring at me. “Some of us have had exciting discoveries. We need everything pooled for the other groups.”

  I ground my teeth together at the way he emphasized “some of us.” Like I had nothing valuable to contribute.

  Trek half-turned away from me. “Some of you may know Zenn Bower. He’s the leader of the Insiders here in Freedom. He’s here to take a select group of you on an exciting field trip.”

  I sidled up behind them, waiting until everyone had moved on to their next task. “What about Raine?”