Authors: Norma Hinkens
I
turn
and face the Undergrounders. “You heard him,” I say. “Rummy’s willing to go along with our plan. That means the mission is a go. Tonight, we’ll meet with the Rogues outside the city.”
I signal to Sven to escort Rummy back to the guards, and then pull Jerome and Trout aside. “Get the Undergrounders organized into the groups we assigned them to in training. I want the sharpshooters flanking us when we head out. I’m going to find Jakob and tell him we’re leaving.”
Trout rumples his brow. “You’re not still planning on bringing Nikki, are you?”
I shake my head. “After the stunt she pulled, we’ll all be a lot safer if she stays behind.”
“She’ll fight you every inch of the way.”
“I’d rather have that fight now, than on the trail.”
Trout gives a dubious nod. “I’ll help Jerome here with the preparations.”
I take off in the direction of the Aquaponics Center, hoping I can remember the way to Nikki’s dilapidated apartment complex from there.
From the moment I first spotted her standing by the tubs of fish, I knew she wasn’t herself, staring at me with that otherworldly air. It wrecked her when I told her I thought Owen was dead. Her eyes took on that manic look that she hasn’t been able to shake since. But, it was almost worse when she found out Owen had been resuscitated. The enormity of it was hard for all of us to grasp. I can hardly blame her for losing it. But emotion like that can be deadly. It’s like no one else exists for her anymore but the two of them. The rest of us just get in her way. I don’t think there’s anything she wouldn’t stop at to save Owen. That’s the part that scares me.
I finally spot Nikki’s crumbling apartment complex, and race up the cracked concrete steps. I charge through the front entry and up the staircase to the second floor. I yank the handle back and forth, but the door to her apartment is jammed, as if something heavy has been shoved in front of it. “Jakob! Nikki!” I yell, pounding on the door. “Are you in there?”
“Give us just a minute,” Jakob calls out.
I take a step back and wait impatiently for him to open the door. He’s probably still trying to talk her off the ledge. I wander across to the railing at the top of the stairs and rest my elbows on it.
Seconds later, the sound of a gunshot curdles my blood. My heart lurches. I turn and race back over to Nikki’s apartment. I put my boot to the makeshift door and kick at it until I manage to shove whatever was blocking it aside, and barge through. My breath freezes in my throat.
Jakob is seated on the shabby couch in the center of the room. Nikki stands behind him, holding a Glock to his head.
“Jakob, are you okay?” I ask, my voice a whisper.
“He’s fine!” Nikki snaps. “That shot was just to get your attention.”
Hot saliva pools beneath my tongue. I raise my hands up slowly in a soothing gesture and take a tentative step forward. “Nikki, please—
“Don’t come any closer,” she hisses.
I stop moving, except for the tremors running up and down my spine.
She tilts her head to the side and peers cautiously around me.
“I came alone,” I say. “Put the gun down, Nikki. I know you don’t want to hurt anybody.”
Jakob’s eyes fasten on mine. His face glistens with sweat. I try to read the message he’s giving me, but my panicked brain can’t make sense of any of this.
“Give me the gun, Nikki,” I say, gently. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Shut up!” she yells in a frenzied voice. “Just shut up for once!”
I lift my hands higher in surrender.
“I know you don’t want me on this mission,” Nikki says, moving restlessly from one foot to the other. “But Owen needs me.”
“Of course he does,” I say, in a reassuring tone. “If you put down the gun we can talk about it.”
“Shut up already!”
“Let Jakob go, please,” I say, in a pleading tone. “He has nothing to do with this.”
Nikki stares at me, her green eyes vacant receptors. I don’t know how to reach her, but I’ve got to keep trying. “I know you’re scared, Nikki. I want to help you.”
“Don’t patronize me!” she snaps. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. Either I’m going with you to the Craniopolis or Jakob won’t be going anywhere ever again.”
I drop my gaze, trying to collect my thoughts, my senses electrified. The smell of mold in the room is suddenly overpowering. I can hear the blood pumping through me, like it’s pumping through Jakob, at least for now. The Nikki that Owen loved would never hurt anyone, but she’s lost touch with reality. There’s no telling what she’ll do if I don’t give in to her demands.
“Do you really think Owen would want this?” I ask. “You, holding a gun to an Undergrounder’s head.”
She blinks, relaxes her grip slightly. A shudder goes down her arm, and quick as a flash Jakob slides out from under her.
The Glock falls from her hand and clatters to the floor. Nikki stares down at it in confusion, her shoulders sagging. “I put the safety on after I fired,” she sobs. “I didn’t want—”
Jakob scoops her up in his arms and helps her to the couch. “It’s all right,” he says. She tips her head back and lets out an eerie moan that sets my teeth on edge.
“She needs a doctor,” Jakob says, looking up at me. “You go. I’ll stay with her.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with her again,” I say.
Jakob kicks the Glock across the floor to me. “We’ll be fine now.”
I reach down and pick up the gun. “I’m still not leaving you here. We’ll take her to the clinic. But we have to make it snappy. They’re waiting for us at the courthouse.”
Jakob whispers something in Nikki’s ear, and then reaches an arm around her waist and pulls her to her feet with difficulty.
Getting down the stairs and outside with Nikki’s dead weight proves an even greater challenge. All the adrenalin that fired her up earlier is gone, and her limbs flop around like limp spaghetti. Her shoulders shake from time to time, but she doesn’t make a sound anymore. I’m not sure if she’s crying silently or going into shock. When we reach the street, we secure her arms around both our necks and begin inching our way along. More than once, she loses her grip and we narrowly miss catching her.
By the time we reach the clinic, Nikki has sunk into an unresponsive trance. She stares past us, oblivious to our repeated pleas to answer us.
Jakob scoops her up and hurries up the steps with her, yelling for a doctor.
A pale-faced man with spectacles appears in the foyer. “Bring her in here,” he says, motioning us into an examining room. He helps Jakob lay Nikki down on a bed and immediately begins checking her vitals. “What happened?”
“I think it was some kind of nervous breakdown,” Jakob says. “She was stressed out and exhausted—”
“She held a gun to Jakob’s head,” I interrupt.
Jakob furrows her brow. “She didn’t know what she was doing.”
“He needs to know the truth, Jakob. She could be a danger to herself or anyone else in here.”
The doctor straightens up and lays his stethoscope aside. “Her heart’s racing. I can give her something to calm her down.”
“Can she stay here?” Jakob asks. “We’re leaving …” He hesitates, and glances across at me, as if unsure how much to reveal.
“The mission, I know.” The doctor pulls off his spectacles and rubs his eyes. “Jerome told me when he came by to check on Blackbeard.” He gestures to Nikki. “I’ll give her a sedative and make sure she’s comfortable. She’s our only other patient, so I can handle her.”
“How’s Blackbeard doing?” I ask.
“Much better than expected. He’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”
Jakob leans over and rubs Nikki’s shoulder gently. “We’ll find Owen, I promise.”
Nikki’s cheek twitches once or twice, but she doesn’t respond.
I lean toward the doctor so Jakob can’t overhear me. “We can’t take the chance of her following us and jeopardizing the mission. Do whatever you have to do.”
“I understand,” he says. He offers me his hand and I shake it. For some reason it makes me uncomfortable, the kind of awkward good-bye that covers all your bases in case you never meet again.
The sound of pounding boots and panicked shouts from the street startles us apart.
“What’s going on?” the doctor asks, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
“I’m not sure,” I say, hurriedly reaching for my pack. “But something’s wrong. Stay inside.”
Jakob and I exchange a look of dread and race out into the street together. A young man runs by, his face threaded with fear. “Take cover!” he yells to us as he disappears around the corner.
“Quick,” I say to Jakob. “We need to find Jerome.”
“Do you think the Rogues got through the gate?” Jakob asks, breaking into a run.
“No. That kid would have been going the other direction if the gate was down. Let’s go! This way!”
We veer down a side street and begin picking our way through a maze of deserted alleyways that reek of fermenting trash. Every now and then we hear a muffled shout, or the thud of footsteps barreling down the main street, but for the most part the city has fallen eerily silent. Trepidation seeps through my veins. What is everyone running from?
W
hen we reach the courthouse
, the foyer is jammed with angry Undergrounders jostling for position and shouting back and forth. Several armed Undergrounders block the entrance to the main courthouse meeting room. I look around in confusion, still trying to catch my breath.
“Derry! Jakob!” Trout elbows his way through the crowd. “Where have you been?”
“Long story.” I say. “What’s going on?”
His voice is low and hoarse when he speaks. “The superconductor’s down.”
It takes me a minute to register what he’s saying. I straighten up and stare at him dubiously, but I can tell by the strained look on his face that he’s not messing with me.
“Why would it suddenly stop working?” Jakob asks.
Trout knits his brow together. “That was my first question.”
The words snake through my brain, sinister and foreboding. I suck in a quick breath. “Are you saying you think it was sabotage?”
“That’s what Jerome suspects,” Trout replies. “He’s heading over there right now with some of his men. He told everyone to stay inside until he gets back.”
I frown as I process the information. No wonder the streets were deserted. Without the protection of the superconductor, the entire city is at risk for extraction. “It could have been the Rogues,” I say. “They might have made it through the barricade. We need to get over to the superconductor right away. If the Rogues have seized control of it, Jerome could be in trouble.”
“I know the way,” Trout says, gesturing for us to follow him as he shoulders a path through the jittery herd of Undergrounders and down the courthouse steps.
“I take it you’ve been off blood-hounding by yourself again?” I say to Trout, as Jakob and I fall into step beside him.
He gives a throaty chuckle. “I nosed around the perimeter a bit. Don’t worry, I didn’t climb any chain-link fences.”
I raise a skeptical brow. Somehow I doubt a quick scout around the superconductor would have been enough to satisfy Trout’s curiosity, but he knows better than to admit to anything more after being warned to stay away.
“Do you think there’s any chance it was Undergrounders who tampered with it?” Jakob asks.
Trout shrugs. “Half the city’s yammering to go back underground because of the radiation leaks. Someone might have tried to force Jerome’s hand.”
My mind immediately goes to the tall, scowling man who heckled us in the meetings as a likely candidate. I ball my hands into fists. “We can’t afford a mutiny over the superconductor, not with The Ghost’s deadline to set the city on fire hanging over our heads.”
Trout gives a dismissive grunt, but I notice he picks up the pace.
W
e weave
our way through a web of tangled steel, ducking under chunks of concrete, the size of small cars, lodged at precarious angles against uprooted houses on the east side of town. The stench in this uninhabited area of the city is overpowering, and I try not to think of what might be buried beneath the debris.
Despite our relentless pace, it takes us a good half hour to reach the perimeter chain link fence that surrounds the superconductor. I hunker down and study the drab two-story gunmetal steel and glass structure that looms before us on the other side. “Doesn’t look like much,” I say. “A big old cage of sorts.”
“Those are just the offices, and that’s the control room in the center,” Trout says. “The superconductor itself is underneath the building.”
“How can you tell all that from here?” Jakob asks, frowning.
“I found some plans in Jerome’s office,” Trout says, his eyes fixed on the building.
I open my mouth to ask him how he managed to pull that off without my knowledge, but he gives a subtle shake of his head, as if he’s reading my mind, and doesn’t care to elaborate.
“There’s no sign of anyone here,” I say, glancing around. “Are you sure Jerome and his men came straight here?”
“Let’s find out,” Trout says. He goes over to a metal gate with a red hazard sign on it and hunkers down by the fence to the left of it. He lifts a loose section and holds it up high enough to crawl under, then waves us over. Jakob throws me an incredulous look, then takes off his pack and slips through to the bushes on the other side.
I shoot my brows up at Trout. “Trespassing
and
vandalism?”
He shrugs. “Never know when you might need to make a quick getaway.”
“Good to know you’re this resourceful,” I say, as I follow Jakob’s lead and crawl through to the other side.
Trout closes up the fence after himself, and joins us. He pulls up the collar of his jacket and peers out from our vantage spot. “Something’s not right.”
“What is it?” I ask, my eyes darting left and right.
“There’s no sign of the guards anywhere.” Trout points at the upper level metal grid decking that wraps around the building. “There are normally two on patrol up there. They should have made the loop by now.”
“Maybe they’re hanging out on the other side.” I pull out my binoculars and scan the ground level steel entry doors at the front of the building. “Is there only one way in?”
Trout squashes his nose into his fist like he does when he’s working something over in his mind. “Unless we scale the decking. There are several smaller glass doors on the upper level that access the building.”
“If the superconductor malfunctioned, the guards might have gone inside to take a look,” Jakob says. “We don’t
know
that it was sabotage. I say we try the ground level entry first. Maybe just one of us should go.” He scrambles to his feet.
“No!” I say. “If they’re holding Jerome hostage, they’ll drag you inside too.”
“We’ll all go,” Trout says. He pulls his rifle from his pack and meets Jakob's questioning look with a resolute gaze. “Just in case,” he says.
“We’re not shooting Undergrounders, no matter what,” Jakob says, an icy edge to his tone. “I need your word on that.”
“We don’t know yet if it is Undergrounders,” Trout says, grimly. “I’m not taking any chances.”
My heart races in my chest. I take a step toward Trout. “Jakob’s right. We don’t shoot if it’s Undergrounders. Are we clear?”
Trout’s jaw tightens. “What if they’ve taken Jerome hostage?”
“Then we’ll negotiate,” I say, fighting to keep my tone even. “They’re scared because of the radiation. We just need to reassure them we have a plan to resolve it.”
Trout presses his lips together, a pinched expression on his face. I can tell he’s battling with the decision. It’s the closest I’ve come to a falling out with him since I met him, but I trust him to follow my lead. He’s been nothing but loyal every step of the way so far, even if he does keep his extra-curricular jaunts to himself.
“You can’t blame the Undergrounders,” Jakob adds. “They have every right to feel angry and betrayed. Jerome hid the truth about the radiation from them.”
“Just wish they’d picked a better time to stage a protest,” Trout grumbles, slinging his rifle strap over his shoulder.
Jakob and I exchange relieved looks. “The timing’s not their fault,” I say. “Most of the city didn’t know we were leaving tonight.”
“We’re never going to gain their trust if we keep springing stuff on them,” Jakob says. “They didn’t even know Jerome was a deviation until a few days ago.”
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets. Jakob’s right. We’ve given the Undergrounders every reason to mistrust us. If we’d come clean about everything earlier, the superconductor might still be up and running. And we’d be on our way now to meet with The Ghost.
“Let’s go,” I say, motioning for Trout and Jakob to follow me. “We’re wasting time.”
T
he solid steel
entry doors are locked, and no amount of pounding on them brings anyone to the door, or out onto the upper deck. The lack of security is an ominous sign, but there’s still no indication of whether it’s Rogues or Undergrounders we’re up against.
“Now what?” Jakob asks.
“Now we climb,” I say, throwing down my pack. “Get your ropes out.”
Jakob throws me a dubious look.
“Unless you have a better idea?” I rummage around in my pack and toss what little rope I have on the ground between us. Jakob reluctantly follows suit, and Trout adds a couple of lengths to the pile.
I reach for the ends and begin lashing them together.
“Not like that,” Jakob says, laughing. “That won’t hold.” He takes the ropes from me and swiftly knots them in a couple of overhand maneuvers. “This should do it,” he says, tugging hard by way of demonstration.
“Where’d a landlocked Septite like you learn to tie knots like that?” I ask.
“You can thank my technology-free upbringing,” he says, with a wink. “I had to while away the evening hours somehow.”
He secures the third rope and hands it to me. “Got something to weight the end with?”
I reach into my pack again and pull out my hatchet. “This might work, if we can figure out how to tie it on.”
Jakob holds out his hand for it. “There,” he says, after a couple of minutes of concentrated effort. “It’s not going anywhere now.”
“You might want to stand back just in case,” I say with a wry grin. “I throw rope about as well as I ride horses.” I loop the rope in my left hand and swing the hatchet back and forth a few times trying to gauge the force I’ll need to get it up and over the metal handrail. My first swing’s only about a foot off, but the next two don’t even shave the underside of the decking.
“Give it here,” Trout says impatiently. He takes a couple of steps back, then scrunches up his eyes and contemplates the decking. The hatchet swings slowly back and forth several times, and then he lobs it into the air. It sails cleanly over the handrail, hits the grid decking with a loud clang and dangles through it like a giant fish hook, before dragging the end of the rope back down to the ground with it.
“
That’s
how it’s done,” he says, exchanging a smirk with Jakob. “Throw it like a man.”
I raise my brows at them. “Well it’s reassuring to know our superpowers include tying knots and throwing stuff.”
Trout grins unabashedly back at me.
I retrieve my hatchet, and Jakob proceeds to tie the two ends of the rope securely together.
“I’m the lightest,” I say. “I’ll climb up first and make sure we’re clear.”
“How are you going to get in?” Trout asks. “The doors are reinforced and bulletproof, your hatchet won’t even make a dent in them.”
I pull on the rope to test the knots. “The doors might be unlocked. If not, I can at least take a look through the glass and see if there’s any sign of Jerome and his men in there.”
Trout and Jakob grab the knotted end of the rope and hold it steady for me as I climb. I shimmy up the twenty feet or so to the upper level, and jump over the handrail onto the decking. My boots thump on the metal grid flooring. I stiffen as the sound reverberates around me. I hold my pose, hunched like a cat ready to spring, peering into the shadows. After a moment or two, I pad cautiously over to the first door and carefully twist the handle. It’s locked. I frame my eyes with my hands and try to look inside, but the glass is heavily tinted. For a moment I almost imagine something flickers past on the inside. I pull back hurriedly. Just because I can’t see anyone, it doesn’t mean there’s no one watching me.
I move carefully across the decking to the next door and twist the handle. The door swings open, catching me off guard. I freeze, my hand glued to the handle, half-expecting to find myself looking down the barrel of a gun. I count to fifty, then let out a ragged breath. Blood pulses through my body as I inch the door open all the way. I crane my neck and peer around the frame into the building.
Inside, the air is still and cool. The circular walkway that wraps around the control room above the superconductor almost has a ghostlike feel. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle. The lighting is muted and greenish, lending the space the aura of an algae-filled fishbowl. There’s no one in sight in either direction. I retreat a step or two, and then make my way back over to the edge of the decking. “Come on up!” I yell down over the railing to Jakob and Trout. “It’s unlocked.”
Jakob monkeys up the rope with ease, but with no one left below to hold the rope firm, Trout sways back and forth, struggling to reach the railing. When he’s finally within arm’s reach, Jakob and I grab the scruff of his jacket and haul him over the railing.
“Next time we’re bringing a ladder, preferably an elevator if we ever get the power back to this planet,” he groans, as he flops down on the decking.
“Maybe you should lay off all those second helpings of stew,” I say, as I reach down and help pull him to his feet.
“Let’s go,” Jakob says, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “Someone might have heard us by now.”
“This way,” I say, pushing open the glass entry door.
We slip through, single file, into the cool, dim corridor. The space is unfurnished apart from a series of metal sconces protruding in shadowed relief along the wall.
Jakob shivers. “Why’s it so dark?”
“The superconductor has to be kept cool,” Trout says.
I throw him a sideways glance. “Did you steal the handbook too?”
He grins. “Just a guess. Machines don’t like to perspire.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Come on, let’s check this place out.” I gesture to the dome-shaped room in the center of the circular corridor with a sign on the door that reads
Control Room. No Unauthorized Access. “
We’ll start here.”
Trout’s expression hardens. He loads a round into his chamber.
“Easy,” I say, locking eyes with him.
He stares back unflinchingly. “We don’t know yet who’s behind that door.”
“I’ll go first and find out,” I say to him. “You take up the rear. No one shoots unless I give the command.”
He rubs his one-knuckled finger across the tip of his nose, then gives a reluctant nod.
I cross the corridor and approach the sliding doors leading into the control room. I take a quick breath, then press the activation panel to open the doors. They slide soundlessly apart; mercifully no alarm blares out. I pan the room, my heart tripping. There’s no trace of anyone in here either. I frown as I take another look around. The computers are lit up and whirring softly, which seems odd if the superconductor’s down. Trout sidles up alongside me. “I haven’t the faintest idea what they do in here,” he says. “But it looks hard core.” He points to a spiral stairway in the middle of the room. “Those stairs lead down to the superconductor.”