False Future (18 page)

I
have to use my knife sooner than expected. The distraction has already begun—people screaming, firing guns into the sky—and it’s working. Thirty seconds ago, an alarm sounded and a dozen Roses armed with RAWs and straight swords descended from different levels of the Verge and entered the freezing night. But two Roses remained behind to block the entrance. I made quick work of their throats, wondering what it must be like to be standing still one second, then have an invisible force spill your blood in the next. Albin and I move the bodies inside, but there’s nowhere to hide them or the blood smeared all over the floor.

As we step inside the Verge, I’m startled to see the Black is gone, replaced with a solid metal floor.

“Where is it?” I say, but then I remember how the Black was below the floor in Gane’s Verge.

“The director had the portal moved once all the Axes and Thorns came through. Just an added layer of security.”

A rectangular hole is cut into the floor. Inside it, a staircase curls down and to the left. We take the staircase, coming across two more sentries as we descend, both of them Mirandas. I break their necks swiftly, trying to avoid more bloodshed. I feel cold while I do it, but not as cold as Rhys must have felt facedown in the snow when the sword pierced his back.

The steps end abruptly at a door. “Am I hidden?” I ask. Our breath is echoing down here. I can’t hear any other sounds from above, no gunfire, nothing. I hope the others are safe.

“You will be, once I see if there is anyone to hide you from.”

“Can you feel them through the door?”

“Yes. Right now the only one I feel is East.”

“No guards?”

“We’ve gotten this far. You have to trust me.”

I do trust him, strangely, so I open the door to find a circular chamber ringed in a catwalk with an X in the middle. In the very middle of the X, in the very middle of the chamber, is East, bound in chains on his knees, almost exactly like he was in the bathroom at Penn Station. Beneath the catwalk is the Black, a pulsating eye I’m careful not to look at.

East lifts his head slowly at the sound of the opening door.

“We’ve met before,” I call to him. “I’m a friend.”

He nods, like he knew this all along. “Alpha team, the second one at least. Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“Your left hand is injured.”

I hold my hand up as if confirming. It tingles. My last two fingers are curled awkwardly, making it obvious my hand isn’t 100 percent.

I walk toward him, trying to ignore the limitless void beneath my feet.

“Come to free me?” he says. He lifts up his chains. I have no idea how to get them off. Would my RAW help, or would the kinetic energy just transfer to him and blow his arm off?

“Yes, but first I need your help with something.” I look behind me; Albin is still standing in the doorway, but I can tell East hasn’t seen him.

“To enter the Dark Room,” he says.

“Yes.”

“To destroy True Earth.”

“At least partially.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for a young woman.”

“They’ve left me no choice.”

He nods. “True. They didn’t give me a choice, either. Some things you are born into.” He considers this, then laughs dryly. “Maybe
born
isn’t the right word.”

“You had a choice. You left the creators, like Noble did.”

He nods again. “That’s true.” I can’t get over that this is the man Noah would’ve grown up to be. This is him as an adult. He would’ve been just as handsome. With eyes just as dark. “Some of us see more clearly than others,” he says.

I kneel at his chains, inspecting them for some kind of weakness, even though I know there will be none. The chains are solid. I’d have to cut his arm off with the Navy SEAL knife, which he would probably object to.

“No offense, but I didn’t think it would be you standing here,” he says. “The director fighting back against herself. Interesting.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

“Yes. I hope you keep it that way.”

“I’m not worried.” Much.

“You know, you’d probably be doing True Earth a favor—or rather us a favor—by eliminating them as a possible future,” he goes on. “I’ve spent several years there on and off. They don’t fight the way we do. To them, nuclear weapons are the equivalent of throwing stones.”

My mind can’t even imagine what that means.

“Have you been to the Dark Room?” I ask.

“I have, but they blindfolded me and covered my ears too. They only needed me to get inside, then they did the rest. I have no details that could help you.”

“I have a way to reverse the Black, then to poison it, to make sure no one travels through it again.”

“Good!”

I’ve given what I must do a lot of thought. It may be the only option, but I will still be
killing people
. I will become a mass murderer of people who never asked for a war.

“I was hoping you would do it,” I say quietly.

“I’m sure you were. But though I think it’s necessary, I don’t know if I am capable of following through.”

That stops me cold. If East isn’t capable, am I? Once my finger is on the trigger, will I pull it? Even right now, standing here, I can’t know for sure. I’ve done what’s necessary before, but this is different.

“I know what you mean,” I say.

“Miranda. Stay strong. Let’s worry about getting these chains off first.” His eyes drift to the tip of the RAW poking above my left shoulder. “That gun should do it.”

“I thought of that…but I’m afraid it might actually kill you.”

He shrugs. “Got a better idea?”

He’s right. “You sound a lot like him, you know.”

“Who?”

“Noah. My Noah. I loved him. He was a good friend.”

East actually smiles. “Of course he was. If he was me.”

I aim the RAW at where his chains are bolted to the catwalk, thumbing the power dial down to one. Then I step back far enough in case it blows a hole through the floor.

I’m about to fire when I hear a familiar sound. It’s the sound of a paint can getting kicked over. The sound of liquid splashing over a hard surface. It can only be one thing.

I
whirl around, prepared to fire, because I know what I’m going to see.

It’s Nina, holding Albin up by the neck with one hand. He’s limp like a rag doll, blood running down the scales on the front of his suit.

I aim the RAW at her, but she snaps her free wrist and the lights flicker, and the RAW powers down in my hands. I drop it on the deck. The armor she wears shimmers weirdly, like it’s surrounded by a thin force field that hovers a millimeter off her body.

She lets Albin fall to the floor. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

She pulls a RAW off her back.

“If you shoot,” I say, “you could kill East. I don’t think your mother would be too happy about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” a voice says behind me. I whirl again. The director’s standing at the other end of the catwalk, behind East. A door is open behind her. Two ways out, two ways in, both guarded by the most dangerous people I’ve ever met.

“A valiant attempt, Miranda,” the director says. “But we’ve known everything all along. You escaped because I
let you
escape. You’ve been supervised this whole time.”

By who?

Olivia steps through the doorway behind the director, and it’s like a hammer strike to the chest. No, it can’t be her. She hasn’t been with us. Her face is carefully blank.

“I thought we had an understanding,” the director continues. “I can’t tell you how sad this makes me.” And she does seem sad, genuinely. “I thought you wanted to make this world a better place, not abandon it to fight a pointless battle.”

“Let me do it,” Nina says behind me. “Let’s create a new future.”

The director ignores her. “Olivia, would you please free the man chained to the floor? I think it’s time we visit the Dark Room again.”

Olivia walks past the director to East, but something is off—she looks frightened. She’s not in control. I’m frozen, watching, waiting to see what happens next. My mind is racing, but I can’t focus on anything without thinking of the people fighting above me. If the director knew I was here, if she knew Albin was helping me, were they expecting the assault? Did I send them all into a trap?

Olivia kneels next to East and begins working on the chains around his wrists. She unlocks the right one with a big brass key and is about to do the other when the director moves. I don’t even have time to cry out. In an instant the director snatches up the chain, whips it around Olivia’s throat, and lifts her off her feet. The other end of the chain is still anchored to the floor, giving her leverage. The key clatters to the catwalk, an inch from the edge.

I rush forward, screaming, but Nina grabs me from behind. I try to spin in her grasp, frantic now as the director chokes the life out of Olivia, but Nina is impossibly strong, much stronger than the one I fought before. She’s trying to throw me into the Black, but I keep my feet planted, stretching out for Olivia, who is only inches away, her eyes red with burst capillaries. The director is grinning. She drops Olivia to the deck, and Olivia doesn’t move. Meanwhile, East has been working on his left wrist with the key—he’s almost free, but it’s too late. The director is coming at me, her face flushed with exertion and rage.

It all happens so fast.

East hits her from behind with a chain.

She whirls on him, cocking her fist back.

I lunge for her and release the ever-present tension in my brain. I let it go completely this time; pain and relief wash over me as my fear waves spread out. Nina’s grip on me weakens just enough to allow me to grab the director, but Nina is on my back the next second, and soon all four of us are jammed together, grabbing, elbowing, kneeing, moving.…

East swings his chain at us, and we stumble, hands grabbing at limbs. The chain cracks the director above her ear. My foot slips off the side of the catwalk, and then we’re all dropping toward the mouth of hell. The director’s head whips around, blood flying from a cut on her temple, and I catch a glimpse of her wide eyes, the most honest expression I’ve ever seen her make. And then we hit the dark.

I
open my eyes.

We’re in a small room. One wall is made of the Black, while the other three are white. In the middle is a desk with an old computer on it, complete with a big, bulky monitor. East and Nina are struggling on the other side of the desk, and the director is on her hands and knees, facing away from me, blood dripping from the wound on her head. She’s dazed; now is the time to finish her. I stand up as East gets his chain around Nina’s neck. My head is swimming with heat, and I’m reminded of Noble’s warning—
Wait too long and you could burn out
. With shaking hands, I uncap the syringe he gave me and stick it into my neck. The cool liquid enters my bloodstream and spreads through my brain, and the simmering heat drops to lukewarm. Sweat still springs on my forehead; I’m unsteady on my feet. I drop the syringe as Nina makes choking sounds on the other side of the room.

“Help me,” East says quietly, straining.

But I can’t. The director is recovering, rising to her feet now as she takes deep, heaving breaths. She turns around. Blood is running off her chin. She leaps toward me, preparing to crush me with a devastating punch. Instinctively I dive forward, under it, but her fist comes down early, onto my back, slamming me to the floor. My breath explodes out of me, and she doesn’t give me a moment to catch it, kicking me right in the ribs.

I slide toward the wall of Black, groaning and twisting onto my side, a flaring pain spreading through my ribs and up through my neck. She kicks me again, and I cry out, writhing away, cheek against the ice-cold floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see East still struggling with Nina and the chains, neither getting the upper hand.

The director hovers over me, sneering down with such hatred that I wonder what things have to happen in my life for me to end up like her. What do I have to see?

“I was hoping you’d be more like me at this point,” she says.

She draws back her leg.…

“I am,” I say.

In a flash I have Kellogg’s knife in my hand. I drive it through her shin with all the strength I have left. She howls, and I sweep her good leg out from under her before she can regain her balance. She slams down hard next to me, cracking her injured head on the floor. I spin around, then plant both feet on her back and shove her as hard as I can toward the wall made of Black. She slides right through and out of the room.

“Help,” East says again as I stagger to my feet.

I’m trying to get around the desk when a wave of pain hits me, and I have to put both hands on the desk to hold myself up. The monitor is showing blocky green text. The agony in my head almost makes me throw up, but I swallow it down and push off toward East.

I’m too late. There’s already blood on the floor. Nina holds a bloody knife in her hand, and she’s trying to swing it around to stab East again. He can’t stop her because he’s got both hands on the chain, trying to choke the life out of her. I dive for her wrist and bend it until her fingers open and the knife drops in the blood. I hold her down and watch grimly as East finishes the job. Eventually she stops making noise, but he doesn’t.

“Oh that hurts,” he says. Blood is coming from under his left ribs. A lot of it. “Oh man.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Not your fault. She stuck me right away.” He looks around the room. “Can you do this? Can you finish the job?”

I don’t say anything. His eyes roll up into his head for a second. He doesn’t speak for a long time, but then he asks again, quieter, “Can you do this? Please?”

“I can.”

“Say it with conviction. If you don’t, everything was for nothing. And many will die.”

“I
can
,” I say again. “I can do it.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t choose this life,” he says. “I’m sorry for my hand in it.”

“It’s okay.” As I watch him bleed out, I see Noah in my mind, the blood running between his fingers in the lab at our old school. The very same blood spilled by the very same girl. What I would give to hear his voice inside my head again. To know that I wasn’t alone.

He smiles. “No it’s not.” Then his eyes flutter and he rests his head on the floor, and I watch him take his last breath.

I stand up alone in the Dark Room.

I’m suddenly breathing very fast. I can’t control it. The back of my neck feels cold and tingly. Here I am, in the place we’ve tried so hard to get to. And I’m just supposed to kill people. People I don’t know. Innocent people. And yet if I don’t, this darkness will remain.

Does that make it right? Or just necessary?

I walk around the desk and sit down in the chair. The monitor is on, the cursor blinking.

Black is currently holding in 8492


Do you want to:


Transfer Black


Move a new amount


Other options


I highlight
Transfer Black
and hit Enter.

Do you want to:


Transfer Black to source (5)


Transfer Black to new location (unavailable at this time)


I highlight the only option.

Do you want to:


Add Black (will result in destruction of 5)


Transfer Only


Maybe in the future they’re already expecting what I’m about to do. They could’ve prepared for it. Who knows. Who can imagine what the future looks like? As Albin said, we have a thousand years to figure it out.

If you do this,
I tell myself,
you will truly start your path to becoming the director. This is how you become like her. This could be the first step.

“I’m giving them the same chance they gave us,” I say aloud.

I feel tears on my face. Can I really tap a few keys and have this result?

I have to.

I highlight
Transfer Only
.
Only,
it says. I’m only transferring. I’m only sending the Black back to where it came from. I look at the Enter key. It’s just a key.

If I push the button, I will save the world.

If I push the button.

I will save the world.

I push the button.