Children of the Uprising (15 page)

They were putting a lot of faith on the signal runners. They had backups in case one of them got caught, but getting caught wasn't the only issue. The issue was also that no one had any idea what one of the signal runners would say if he did get caught. They were only kids—kids who didn't even have a stake in the outcome of the Uprising. No one could blame them if they got caught and leaked everything. All any of them got out of the deal was the promise of a safe place to stay for a few weeks and warm food to eat. Still, that promise was enough to make them more loyal than most adults. That's why the rebels needed to use them in the first place, because the radios and phones weren't safe anymore after Zé Carlos flipped. He told them everything he knew about the Uprising. Luckily, he didn't know as much as he thought he did. Sure, they had to start from scratch after he flipped. They had to make a whole new plan—a better plan—but Zé had no idea that they were coordinating with the others. He didn't know that Rio was only one city in a master plan to take down the whole world in one night. He didn't know that the Child was behind it all. If he had known all of this, he could have destroyed the Uprising. That's how fragile it was. Luckily, nobody ever trusted Zé that much to begin with. You can't buy loyalty with money. But with the street kids—the signal runners—you can buy loyalty with the offer of a warm bed and hot food and a few kind words. The kids want to be loyal. They've just never had anyone to be loyal to except each other.

Simone sat back in her little box of a home and stared out the open window. Anyone looking into her window could see Simone's face, but she kept her gun hidden from view. She wasn't afraid of being seen. She mixed well with the tens of thousands of other faces inhabiting the windows of the shantytown at any given moment. Simone's home was halfway up the hill, right in the heart of the shantytown. She was about as close to a literal version of a needle in a haystack as any human being could ever get. She'd paid real money for her shanty, but it was worth it. She was on the second floor of a four-story building, one made out of concrete instead of the corrugated metal and old wood used on the edges of the shantytown. Her building had running water on the first floor and a working toilet. A few of Simone's neighbors even had working electricity. Simone didn't, but she didn't need it. She was happy waiting in the darkness. At night she watched the hordes of people visible outside her window going about their lives. She often compared the War to the ongoing battles between the rival drug gangs in Rio. As far as Simone could tell, the only difference was that the warring drug gangs had a product.

Simone heard a knock at her door. “Who is it?” she called out. If the person knocking gave the wrong answer, she wouldn't be able to stop him from coming in, but she would have a second to jump out of her window and run. She wouldn't be able to get away, but at least she would die running.

“Han Solo,” a boy's voice shouted from the other side of the door. He was supposed to yell “Boba Fett” as a signal to Simone if something was wrong. Simone had told the boy all about
Star Wars
. She'd turned it into an epic bedtime story. She even promised to let him watch the movies if everything worked out. She could still hear the boy's excitement when he said the name “Han Solo.” Simone thought that he might be more excited about the prospect of watching
Star Wars
than he was about the food. She didn't know if she was going to be able to keep her promise to him. Even if she survived, she had no idea what was going to happen to the shantytown after the Uprising, let alone what was going to happen to the shantytown's parentless children. Hiding an Intelligence Center in a shantytown seemed to Simone like a cruel joke. They must have known that destroying the Intelligence Center would mean destroying so much more. It gave her all the more reason to hate them.

She slipped her rifle under a tattered rug she kept near the window and walked to the door. When she opened it, Bené stood outside, alone. “Come in, quick,” she said to him and ushered him through the door. Bené was smiling. He always seemed to be smiling. Simone had no way of knowing if he was really always smiling or if he only smiled when he was with her. “What have you got?” Bené reached under his shirt and pulled out the neck wallet that Simone had gotten for him. It was brown canvas, almost the same color as Bené's skin, and was impossible to see through his T-shirt. He fumbled inside it and pulled out a handwritten note. “Who's it from?” Simone asked as Bené handed her the note.

“Mr. Costa,” Bené told her.

“Good,” she said to Bené. “You did good.” Simone heard the chop, chop sound of a helicopter flying by outside. It wasn't anything to be concerned about. The helicopters flew by rather frequently. They were meant to scare the drug lords into keeping their behavior in the shadows. They didn't care about the drug lords as long as the violence didn't seep out of the slums. Still, Simone wondered if those helicopters were going to pick sides when everything went down.

“What's it say?” Bené asked her as she unfolded the letter.

Simone smiled at him. “It says that Bené is the fastest boy in all of Brazil and that all the girls sigh when he runs by them.” Bené blushed as Simone silently read what the letter actually said. The attack would begin at three a.m. that night. Simone looked at her watch. It was eight o'clock in the evening. She would have to wait only seven more hours. She would try to get a little sleep first.

Because of the increased surveillance since Zé betrayed them, the rebels were attacking from the north. The signal runners would help to coordinate the attack so that everyone moved in choreographed fashion. They'd learned that the extra surveillance was to the south and the east where the entrances to the Intelligence Center were. Since there were no doors to the north, there were no guards there either. So no guards but, since there were no doors, the rebels would have to use dynamite to blow holes in the wall. Simone was to stay in her location. From there, she was supposed to provide cover for the guys planting the dynamite and then for the ones running into the maelstrom through the newly exploded openings in the walls. If it even looked like anyone was trying to stop them, she was to shoot. Two other sharpshooters were providing cover from different angles, from different spots in the shantytown. Mr. Costa didn't add any details about whether her shots were supposed to be warning shots, shots to disarm, or shots to kill. He didn't have to. She knew. And she never missed.

Once all the others had made it inside the Intelligence Center, she was to leave her post and join them. They would need all the bodies inside they could get. Nobody knew what would happen after that. Nobody planned their escape. Government authorities would likely be called in after the attack. That's why they put the Intelligence Center in the shantytown to begin with—because of the additional security they got from the government out of it. There was more than a decent chance that the government would see the violence and use it as an excuse to tear the whole shantytown down. “What does it really say?” Bené asked.

“It says that there's going to be a raid tonight, that they're rounding up children,” Simone lied to Bené. She wasn't even sure if raids ever actually happened, but she knew that the children talked about them, and feared them, like they were very real. “You need to get out. You can come back tomorrow, but tonight, you need to hide out somewhere else. Can you do that?”

Bené smiled. “I'm the fastest boy in all of Brazil,” he said with confidence. “They'll never catch me.”

“Please, Bené, for me.” Simone pleaded with the boy to leave the shantytown for one night.

“Okay,” Bené answered. “For you.”

“Thank you, Bené,” Simone said. She grabbed the boy and held him close to her chest and kissed him on the forehead. “You've been a great help, Bené. You did so good.”

“Good enough for
Star Wars
?” Bené asked her.

“Good enough for
Star Wars
,” Simone answered. Then she kissed him on the forehead one more time and let him go.

“Maybe we should go outside to talk,” Brian volunteered after his mention of Reggie left Christopher dumbfounded. Christopher didn't move. His head hurt. He was trying to process what Brian had told him, but the thick bass echoing out of the computer behind him kept pulsating in his brain, jumbling his thoughts.

“Maybe we should,” Christopher finally agreed.

Brian slowly stood up from his chair. From force of habit, he looked around the room to see who might be watching them. He should have known who was watching them. Almost everyone was watching them. “Don't worry about them,” Brian whispered to Christopher. “You're entitled to a little peace.”

Brian led Christopher past Dutty as they headed for the door. “The kid wanted some quiet,” Brian told Dutty as they walked by.

“Okay,” Dutty answered, nodding to Christopher as he passed.

They walked together into the barren wasteland that Christopher had seen out his window. He could hear the cars speeding by on the highway atop the hill above the compound. The sun was sinking, turning the brown dirt beneath their feet to an almost golden color. “So, you must have some questions for me,” Brian said to Christopher. They stood close enough together to talk quietly while still hearing each other over the roar of the traffic.

“Was it Addy?” Christopher asked.

“Was Addy what?” Brian responded.

“Was Addy the one that told Reggie I was here?”

“No,” Brian said, shaking his head. “If Addy were still in touch with Reggie, why would he need me to keep an eye on you?”

“I guess that's true. But why did Reggie send someone to keep an eye on me anyway?”

“Because you're eighteen and you don't know what you're doing and these people aren't trying to help you.”

“What are you talking about?” Christopher asked, glancing back at the compound. He could still barely hear the music. “These people worship me. Besides, Reggie just wants me to run away and I've decided that I don't want to die running.”

“It's good to make decisions. So you've decided to lead a revolution?”

“I'm not leading anything,” Christopher told him.

“I know. You aren't a true leader if everyone is following you but all you're doing is following somebody else.” It was a practiced line. Brian had rehearsed it. Christopher could tell. Still, it hit Christopher hard.

“Why are you doing this? It's not like I was given a lot of choices here.”

“I know,” Brian said softly. “Run away or pretend you're somebody that you're not. It's more options than your father had, but I don't want to compare you to your father. Instead, what if I gave you another option?”

“Will it mean not running forever and not watching people die in my name?”

Brian shook his head. “No. People are going to die in your name no matter what you do. But I can give you an option where you get to stop running and you get to stop pretending to be somebody you're not.”

Christopher looked back at the compound. They'd been gone for a long time already. He knew that they should get back soon so people didn't start getting suspicious. “And what do I have to do?”

“Simple. You come with me, back to see Reggie.”

“And how does that help? I've already been there. Reggie wanted me to run.”

Brian nodded. “Reggie knows what it's like to be a lost eighteen-year-old kid. When he was eighteen, somebody convinced him that running was the best thing that he could do. That's why he tried to get you to run. But if you don't want to run, he's got other ideas. He wants you to understand your own power.”

“What's that?”

“People don't trust each other, but they'll trust you.”

“How is that different from what Dutty is asking me to do?”

“We're not asking you to lead. We're not even asking you to pretend to lead. The leadership's already in place—real leaders with real power.” Brian glanced dismissively at the compound. “All you have to do is help convince them to work together.”

“Because they'll trust me,” Christopher finished for Brian, not even trying to cover up his sarcasm.

“You don't understand how deep the hatred goes. It might seem frivolous to you, but it goes back generations. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. But try to make your decision before Dutty gets your head blown off.” With that, Brian started walking back to the compound.

“What would my father have done?” Christopher called after Brian as he walked away.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Brian answered. “And remember, you're not your father.”

Christopher was waiting for Addy. It was early in the morning. The air outside was still cool, the ground still wet. He had spent enough time with her to know about when she would wake up. No one else seemed to be awake yet. Even the highway running along the hill above the compound was quiet.

Addy nearly jumped when she stepped outside and saw Christopher. He was sitting on the ground in the dirt, his hands resting on the tops of his knees. She didn't expect anyone to be outside, not this early. She didn't like being surprised. In her experience, surprises were almost never good and they were far too often final. “Shit,” Addy said after catching her breath. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I'd join you on your run,” Christopher answered, “if that's okay.” He knew she would be running. Every morning, like clockwork.

“Of course,” Addy answered. What else could she say? Christopher had never asked to run with her before. She remembered that he'd run a few times with Max but never with her. She couldn't say no. Not to him. Not even if she wanted to. “Of course,” she repeated without any added conviction.

“How far are you running?” Christopher asked.

“An hour.”

“You go by time, not by distance?”

“Yeah. You go as far as you can in the time you're given. Some days you make it farther than others.”

“Well, if I start slowing you down, feel free to go ahead without me.”

“I'm sure you'll keep up,” Addy told Christopher. Without any more discussion, they were running. They pushed each other, both running faster than they would have if they'd been running alone. They didn't say anything to each other for the first thirty minutes. They simply matched each other stride for stride. At the half-hour mark they turned around and began to run home. Their pace slowed considerably on the way back, so much so that they were nearly a full mile from the compound when the hour was up. They began to walk. It was the first time they'd been alone together since they found Dutty.

“Are you happy with how the raid went?” Christopher asked Addy as they walked. She started walking slower, wanting to give Christopher time to get whatever was bothering him off his chest.

“I'm glad we finally did something,” Addy answered him.

“But do you think any good will come of it?”

Addy looked over at Christopher. “Why are you so unsure of yourself? After all of this, after how everyone's reacted to you, after they put their lives on the line for you, why do you still have doubts?”

“Because I'm not who you want me to be. I'm not the Chosen One. I'm not Harry Fucking Potter. I don't have any magic powers. Max knew that. I think you know it too, but you're afraid to admit it.”

Addy shook her head. “No,” she said. “The problem isn't that you're not who I want you to be. The problem is that you still think that this story is about you. You'll learn, though. This story is bigger than you. It started before you were born. I never thought that you had magic powers, Christopher. But I also don't think that you know what your role in this story is yet.”

“Do you know my role?” Christopher asked, throwing it back at her.

Addy shook her head again. “I'm not sure. I only know that your role is important—that it's bigger than me and bigger than you. You and your parents mean too much to too many people for anything less.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Just remember it,” Addy told him. “Remember that it's not your story. It's their story. You're only a character in it. Take that knowledge and try to do your best and know that no matter what happens, we'll fight for you.” The morning air was growing warm. A thick wind blew in from over the hills.

“Do you think you know what your role is?” Christopher asked Addy.

Addy shrugged. “I think that sometimes it's easier to figure out other people's roles than it is to figure out your own.”

“Do you at least know what you would do if the War came to an end?”

“I have no idea,” Addy said. “I've never thought that far ahead.”

Christopher thought she might say more, but she didn't. “I'll race you the rest of the way back,” he challenged. Addy smiled at him and, for the first time since that day when she saw Christopher walk into Reggie's compound, Christopher felt like she was actually looking at
him
. So much more had changed since then. They both knew it. Then Addy burst into a sprint toward the compound and Christopher chased after her.