Middle Ground (31 page)

I unclipped the gun on my hip and considered it. I wanted to give up. The blades were so loud they rattled the boat. My teeth chattered.

I closed my eyes and thought about Justin. I visualized him. I imagined he was here with me. I squeezed my fingers tight, like his hand was inside mine. I thought about my family. I pictured my mom, Joe, and Baley. I pictured my father. An image came to me from when I was young. I remembered my dad carrying me on top of his shoulders. We were walking Baley at a park in Hood River, looking down at the Columbia River gorge and watching the wind sweep the water into whitecaps. Before M28. Before the chaos. Before he changed.

I looked once more at the chopping knives, so close now water was spraying up over the sides of the boat and in my face. I lifted the gun barrel and pressed the cold metal to my neck. I curled my finger around the trigger and started to press.

I heard a clap of thunder and I looked up at the sky for a storm. I waited for lightning. But there were no clouds, just pinkish-blue sky. Then I looked straight ahead. The giant propellers were slowing down.

My finger froze on the trigger. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t imagining the blades were slowing down. I reached for the earpod to tell Scott, but the current suddenly slowed down and the boat lurched like someone had slammed on the brakes. I was shoved against the windshield and smashed my head on the glass. My earpod slid off the dashboard and into the river. The propellers slowed to a lazy crawl. The angry metal fangs turned into a garden of white petals, stretching for miles in each direction. The shark turned into a flock of birds and their white wings slowly flapped to a stop.

I was too relieved to care that blood was running down my forehead and trickling into my eye. I wiped the blood away with my sleeve. The propellers gracefully came to a stop. The side of the boat connected with a shining blade glistening with water, but it hit with a clang and then rebounded off.

I eased the boat slowly through the range of propellers while I had the chance. The engine coughed in response and we picked up speed. The generators were set up in rows. We entered a white tunnel, frozen still. I held my breath as the boat passed a field of blades on either side. I was listening for any sign the machines would turn back on. All I heard was the gentle purr of the boat and the sound of water bubbling around the motor. I was afraid to speak, as if it would wake the sleeping monster. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, louder than the boat’s engine.

I took a deep breath and held it when the end came into view. We passed the last row of propellers, and the ocean, like arms open wide, greeted us. I finally let my breath out, but we were still close enough to be pulled back. A line of orange buoys floated in the distance, which I assumed marked safe waters. As I sped away from the plant, the boat engine started to sputter. I kept my hand pushed stubbornly on the throttle.

“Come on,” I said, and rubbed my hand on the smooth leather dashboard. “Don’t give up on me now.” The motor coughed, sounding like it had a throat full of phlegm, and then, with a labored sigh, it blew out and stopped. I looked over my shoulder at the wave farm. Everything was eerily quiet, like the sky just before a tornado strikes when nature is gathering up forces. The blades were sharks again. Sleeping. There were no sounds, just my heart jabbing against my ribs.

I ran to the back of the boat and tore the cover off the motor to find water bubbling over the sides, flooding it. I tried starting the engine again and the motor coughed weakly in response. I cursed and smacked the steering wheel, as if screaming at it would scare it into working. A siren wailed, like a foghorn, and it made me jump. A sweeping sigh filled the air, as if the sky were yawning. I looked over my shoulder. The propellers started to turn. The buoys teased me in the distance. I was still a hundred yards away from safe waters.

I swore again and tried to start the engine, with no luck. I ran over to Pat and shook him, but he was still motionless. I looked out at the ocean and wondered how long I would last in the water if I could make it to a buoy. And then I remembered the life raft.

I hurdled over the driver’s seat and jumped down to the stern of the boat. The extra craft was still there, attached to the hull. The propellers were gaining speed now, starting to churn the water. The boat began to inch back, jostled by the waves. There wasn’t time to think. Only to move.

I ran over and pulled on Pat’s sweatshirt to try to lift him. He didn’t budge, so I grabbed him underneath his arms and dragged him across the deck. I struggled with his weight, and when we got to the back, I jumped down into the raft and pulled Pat over the edge until his legs swung down. I pulled Pat down and unclipped the harness that attached the raft to the speedboat. The raft had a small motor at the rear, and when I yanked its black nylon cord, the engine sputtered. I swore and gave the cord another pull and the engine kicked in, muttering a reply. I turned the boat out to sea and prayed we weren’t too late. The boat crawled forward, already fighting against the propellers pulling us back.

“Come on,” I said. “Come on.” I kept my eyes on the target of the buoys bobbing calmly in the distance. I willed them closer, as if my mind could help power the boat. When I was certain the orange markers were approaching, I allowed myself a peek behind. I looked back to see the other boat caught in the suction, slowly being pulled to the blades.

I looked ahead again, and once we were safely past the orange buoys I turned in my seat to watch the fate of the blue speedboat. The propellers continued to lure it closer until the boat was caught in the blades and let out a squeal as the metal frame twisted apart. The boat exploded in a loud gust and splinters of wood and metal flew into the air. The blades chipped and pulled the boat apart in thin slices. It hacked the pieces of splintering wood into tiny fragments. The propellers cut and chewed until all that was left was floating debris of wood being tossed and spit out in the churning waves. I watched the pieces floating in the water, knowing it could have been my bones crunching under the blades, and my blood churning in the white teeth.

I steered the lifeboat north and prayed Scott would still have the flares waiting for us. The ocean was calm, the wind cool, blowing in from the south. I was careful to stay far enough away from shore that we wouldn’t be spotted. I looked west in time to see the orange sun dip below the horizon. The sky seemed to be celebrating with me, dripping in pink and orange light. The roar of the wave generator cried in the distance, like a wild animal that had lost its prey just before the kill.

We glided through the water in darkness. The raft didn’t have any lights or emergency kits onboard. All I had to navigate by was a thread of lights from the coast. Lighthouses dotted the shore and were spread out every few miles. As we passed them, I counted the rhythm of their patterns. The bulbs rotated every twelve seconds, sometimes eighteen, sometimes ten. There was a language in those lights, a romantic story they shared with the sea. There was no sound, other than the occasional planes flying over head, lost in the sky, their lights blending in with the stars. I didn’t have a single digital tie to the world and for the moment I relaxed in the quiet calm. It gave me time to reflect.

I watched the shoreline for the red flares. I had no way of contacting anyone now. My earpod was lost in the river, and I checked Pat for his, but it must have fallen out when I dragged him into the lifeboat.

Even though all I could see was blackness, visions ran through my head like a montage sequence—images of what might have happened to Justin, Clare, Gabe, and Scott. I couldn’t shake the memory of the cops trying to break into the LADC. Someone had tipped them off. But I knew it wasn’t Scott. In my heart, I was positive it could be only one person, and it made me sick to think he could turn on me. My father knew I was planning on freeing the kids in the detention center. He knew it was going to happen. But I never told him when. I didn’t understand how the information leaked out. How could he infiltrate something that had no trace? There were no files. It was as if my dad could see inside my mind.

Pat stirred next to me. He moaned as he tried to sit up. He blinked around us, at the coast in the distance and our tiny craft. He looked at me then, his face puzzled. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not every day you shoot your friend in the neck. But maybe we’d both been going insane at that minute. Maybe we were both desperate.

“The speedboat wasn’t small enough for you?” he asked, looking around at the dinghy.

It felt good to hear him joke. It settled my heart to think we could get past what happened.

“I wanted to downsize,” I said. “I thought we could use one more challenge.” He smirked and I told him I sacrificed the boat to the wave generators. “Call it an entrance fee,” I said.

He pressed his hand against the side of his neck where I had shot him a few hours ago. He winced. “Why do I have whiplash?” he asked. “We used to shoot each other with tranq guns all the time, but they never gave me whiplash before.”

I explained what happened to him, filling him in on the last two hours. I apologized for almost breaking his neck when I pulled him onto the raft.

“I was trying to save your neck,” I said. He was quiet for a few minutes as he digested this. I expected him to yell at me, to be irate. But he looked relieved more than anything. He gazed out at the coast a hundred yards away, sprinkled in a dusting of lights.

“Wow,” he said. “You pulled it off. I guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

I leaned over and rested my hand on his arm and he didn’t jerk it away. “I’m so sorry, Pat,” I said. “I just couldn’t give up.”

“I see that,” he said but his eyes avoided mine. “You take stubborn to a whole new level.”

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“Mad? For what? Shooting me in the neck?” He grinned. “That’s what friends do.”

“Thanks for being able to joke about it,” I said. We both fell silent. I was afraid to bring up what he said back at the dock. I didn’t want to start another argument. But I had to know if he meant it.

“You bailed on me, Pat. You were going to give up.”

He didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes on the water.

“Were you serious about turning Justin in?” I asked.

Pat sighed and finally looked at me. “No, I didn’t mean it. You made the right decision, Maddie,” he said. “I didn’t. I was stupid. I panicked. That’s why I don’t lead these things. I’m not cut out for this, not that I want to be. When I was younger I helped Justin out, but I always did it for the kicks, not for the cause.”

He looked out at the water. The ocean rolled the boat lightly back and forth.

“God, this is peaceful, isn’t it?” he said. “This is exactly what I want.”

I grinned at him. “What? To be stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean forever?”

He smiled. “To go with the flow. Life’s all about the pursuit of happiness, you know? I’m sick of trying to make the world a better place. So I’m quitting before I mess it up for everyone.”

I nodded because I knew this was coming.

“I’m starting to believe that all you can do in life is make yourself happy. And if you can make a couple of other people happy along the way, maybe that’s the best you can do. And I’m okay with that. I’m not some rebel leader. I don’t want to be.”

He put his feet up on the side of the boat and I studied his profile. His face was content. “This is a good way to end my last mission,” he announced. “You have to be crazy to keep this lifestyle going.”

“You mean, crazy to give in to the lifestyle that exists?” I tested him.

He cracked a smile.

“Don’t say that Justin corrupted me, Pat. This is how I feel, not because I’m pressured into thinking this way. He didn’t brainwash me.”

“I don’t think the world is so bad, Maddie,” he said. “People leave each other alone. There’s hardly any crime these days. It’s safe. Everyone is doing their own thing. Maybe this is the best it gets. Maybe you guys all expect too much.”

I stared at Pat. How could he say this to me, especially after what I experienced the last six months? He saw it with his own eyes today—hundreds of people that had been mentally beaten and were enduring torturing sentences, just for wanting a choice. People were dying, just for wanting a life outside of their screens. I looked at Pat like I didn’t know him anymore. Maybe I didn’t.

“I want to be more than just okay with my life,” I said.

“Life is what it is,” he said.

“Life is what you make it,” I argued.

“Is this how you want it? Running from the cops, almost getting arrested, almost getting killed. I know Justin gets some sick high off of it. He’s an adrenaline junkie. But I think it’s a waste of time.” He looked at me. “You don’t have to do it either, you know.”

I nodded. “I know that,” I said. “I’ll never do anything I don’t want to do. Trust me, it’s not in my personality. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But you lost faith in all of us. You turned on Justin. You don’t turn on people, even when you panic, because trust is impossible to win back. Believe me, I learned that the hard way. Justin would take a bullet for you, and you were ready to hand him over to the police. And you called
him
selfish. I’m going to forget about what happened back there, because I know you’re quitting and I believe you were scared. I’ll never mention it to Justin because I believe you’re sorry. But”—I eyed him coolly—“if he ever gets handed over to the cops, if anything ever happens to him, you’re the first person I’m coming after.”

He nodded. “I’m done, Maddie. I promise.” He dipped his hands in the ocean and wiped them together with a symbolic gesture. “I’m washing my hands of this. It’s all yours.”

I leaned back in my seat, satisfied. “And what you said about Justin being dangerous. I know he’s dangerous. You don’t have to warn me. It’s one of his best traits.”

He nodded. “Yeah, after today I’m pretty sure you two are perfect for each other.”

I sighed and looked out at the coastline and that’s when I caught the faint red glow in the distance. I pointed out the flares to Pat and turned the boat in their direction. As we approached the lights, we saw a fire lit on the shore, and dark silhouettes moving, mixing light with shadows. The moonlight coated the wet beach in silver. The light of the flares caught our boat and a few people turned to look at us. People ran closer to the shore, and a girl screamed my name. I waved back and called out it was us. Her scream was contagious and soon everybody on the beach was there, circling our boat by the time we met the sand.