Secret Value of Zero, The (19 page)

Grasping his thigh, Trove sliced at the soldier, delivering the last blow. As the man crumpled onto the ground, Trove staggered to the nearest tree, trying to staunch the blood flowing from his thigh.

Meke threw her crossbow onto her back. She signaled Daniel to follow her. Her breath was ragged as she ran toward Trove. A slight tickle above her alerted her to the incoming dart. She threw herself onto the wet dirt, smearing her cheeks black with soil as the dart whizzed by.

Now she remembered. The tree-climber. He had stayed so still that she had forgotten about him.

She was on her feet before the tree-climber could release another dart. Panting, she skidded to a stop near Trove. He looked up at her, wincing as red streamed from under his hand.

Meke grabbed Trove's lapels just in time before a dart buried itself into the tree trunk, mere millimeters away from Trove's neck and her head.

Trove clutched her shoulder as he hobbled away from the tree, pointing toward his old hiding place. Meke half supported, half dragged him as he limped, leaving a trail of large blood droplets. Meke would jerk them both backward whenever a projectile came flying at them. Sometimes it was a bolt, sometimes it was a dart.
 

Somehow, they made it to where Doctor Ball still lay unconscious, oblivious to the happenings around him. Meke eased Trove as gently as she could to the ground, but he was so large and heavy, he fell on the rocks and winced.

"Sorry!" Meke winced as well.

His mouth tense, Trove waved away her apologies.

After glancing at Doctor Ball to make sure he was still breathing, Meke knelt next to Trove. With gentle hands, she removed his hand from the wound. He merely stared off in the distance as Meke tried to repair him.

Trove had the wherewithal to remove the star, but blood still leaked out of the deep wound in dribbles. Meke forced herself to look at the shredded flesh, the bright red making his skin a ghostly shadow of its former color. Meke tore off the bottom part of her shirt. She wrapped the wound as tightly as she could, but she could see the redness spreading through the white fibers of her makeshift bandages.

"Where's Daniel?" Trove asked, his fingers scarlet. Meke looked around and didn’t see him. Daft fool.

"He's still back out there. Should I get him?"

Trove lifted his handheld, pushed a few buttons. The screen remained as black as the ones that Daniel had thrown away. With a disguised sigh, Trove let the handheld clatter onto the rocks. Trove shook his head, his face growing paler. “Don't. He knows what to do.” Trove groaned and looked past the rocks. “Was it a man in a tree who shot at us?"

"Yes, I've never seen anything like it before. The way that he jumps through trees…“ Meke trailed off, thinking of the graceful way that the man’s hands grabbed a nearby branch as he flew through the air.

Trove grimaced as he shifted his weight off his left leg. "Jens." His mouth tightened. "As a shot, he’s at least as good as you, maybe better.”

"How do you know who he is?" Meke asked.

"Oh, everyone knows Jens. He's the elite of the elite. He's a crack shot and he can leap from a tree to a tree like a—, a—I don’t even know what.”

Trove slumped, his face ashen, then he started laughing.
 

Oh no, he has gone insane, Meke thought. What am I going to do with a crazy Trove?

“They got us pretty good,” he said.

Meke looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry,” Meke said.

“What are you sorry for? It was a masterful move by Damore. He got me, too.”
 

“I was supposed to see them coming.”

“Looks like they know what your sense is like already.” Trove shook his head. “They played us perfectly. They came in too fast for you to see. Left this place unguarded, an easy target. I bet they’re moving in ways that it’s hard for you to see. Nothing you could’ve done. If anything, it’s my fault. I had a bad feeling about this, but—” Trove shook his head. “Orders are orders.”

Meke shook her head. Trove waved her away. “It doesn’t matter. We have to leave. I can't stay like this for much longer."

“We can hardly leave with Jens out there. You know that he’s just waiting for one of us,” Meke said.

Jens sat so high that the branch swayed with the wind. How the branch didn't snap under his weight, Meke didn't know. He held a crossbow in a relaxed position across his lap. The nonchalance of his handhold and swinging legs didn't fool Meke. He would seize the crossbow and release a dart or bolt as soon as someone exposed as much as a hair.

“I have an idea, but we need to talk it out first.” Trove glanced at Meke, his eyes regaining some of its vigor. “I’ll stand up and let Jens take an aim at me. You shoot him.” Meke shook her head, opening her mouth in protest. “It's the only way. Either that or I stay here, bleeding to death. This way I have a shot at getting back alive. Actually, I’d rather be shot than bleed dry.”

The brutality of his words made Meke’s throat ache. “How do you know he’ll take the bait?” Meke asked.

“Oh, he will. He won’t miss a chance to beat me. Let’s do it soon or I may not be able to do it.”
 

Exhaling slowly, Meke nodded, She placed a small metal bolt into her crossbow and adjusted her pouch. Only five bolts remained. She didn't like this—not one bit. If she shot a fraction of a second too late, Trove would be gone and she would be alone. Useless thoughts, Meke scolded herself. She decided not to think any further than her trigger finger. Biting the insides of her cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth, she got into position.

Jens was a cocky one—obviously a Fiver—his feet swinging in the air. His jaw muscles worked as he munched on some food. Meke pressed the crossbow against her shoulder, aimed at the tree-man.

Trove inhaled deeply next to her, and heaved himself up.

Everything happened within a second.

Jens whipped his crossbow onto this shoulder and shot. Meke twitched her trigger finger. For an instant, both bolts soared in the air, traveling in opposite directions.

Meke’s bolt hit Jens right below his uniform’s seam. She had missed. Meke jammed another bolt into her crossbow and raised it again, but Jens was gone.

The force of the bolt’s impact had sent him flying, slamming through rough branches. His hands flew out for a handhold, but he found none. He hit the ground so hard that Meke was surprised to see that he was still breathing, albeit raggedly.
 

She glanced over at Trove who was clutching his arm with his eyes closed. He opened one eye and smiled at Meke, a thin line with a tiny curve at the ends.

Meke sighed, discarded her crossbow and grabbed her poleax. Using the poleax as leverage, she vaulted herself over the boulder. She was running, but slowed to a trot when she realized what had happened. Daniel already had a knife at Jen’s throat as Jens lay on the ground, coughing and cradling his chest. Jens had his eyes shut tightly, refusing to look at his captor. Daniel looked up at Meke, nodding gravely.
 

Meke helped Daniel drag Jens away. Meke’s tiredness deepened with every step. Jens didn’t help matters by dragging his feet as he wheezed. He tried to escape a few times but Daniel kicked him in the ribs, which put a quick stop to the foolishness.
 

As they reached the rocks, Meke leaned against the biggest rock, rubbing her eyes. Now that the danger had disappeared, all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep with her thumb firmly planted in her mouth.

Daniel shoved Jens next to Doctor Ball’s unconscious body. Jens, still struggling for breath, didn’t resist as Daniel bound his hands and feet. Rising to his feet, Daniel spat at Jens and stalked off.

Meke followed, not wanting Daniel to do anything foolish. She found Daniel crouching by the nameless man that she had killed minutes ago. Daniel closed the man’s eyes and bowed his head.

Meke stared. Why would Daniel grieve for an Elite Forces soldier?
 

Then the sight made sense. The two faces—one alive, one dead—bore a strong resemblance to each other. They were brothers.

Sometimes, this happened. A child born to a Square or Equi family would test as a Fiver or Star. Prosperon would sweep that child away, placing them with a peer family.
 

Meke held her fist to her mouth, feeling like an intruder. She had killed Daniel’s brother. This thought proved too much for Meke’s overtaxed brain. She stumbled back to the boulders and sank to the ground, her eyelids drooping. Between her long blinks, she saw Trove smile at her, ashen-faced.

“Go ahead and sleep. Your first is always the worst,” he said. Meke tried to respond, but sleep overtook her. The last thing she felt was Tooth climbing into her lap.

IT FELT like someone was pushing down her eyelids. That was okay. Meke didn’t want to open them anyway, but the nudges wouldn’t allow her to fall back into the peaceful nothingness.
 

Meke opened her eyes a crack, allowing sharp white light to fill her vision. The light hurt her brain, so she squeezed her eyes shut again.

“What do you want? I’m tired,” Meke said, her arms falling down after her last word.
 

“Please open your eyes. It’s too strange,” Arya said. She sat in a chair by Meke’s bed.

“I don’t need to. You know that,” Meke said.

“Please.”
 

Meke sighed, opening her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights. She squinted at Arya, trying to block out the brightness. The room remained as it had been for the last three days. It was a sparse white room with locked cabinets and a solitary table at the far left corner.
 

“Oh Meke, if I had known—” Arya shook her head. “You never should’ve gone.”

Meke’s eyes fluttered wide open. “No. I’m glad I went. Now I know I can do it.”

“At what price? You were almost killed.”

“They wouldn’t have killed me. They would’ve just taken me.”

“That’s—” Arya squeezed her hands together. “I didn’t come here to do this. I came here to tell you that you need to get dressed. We have an important meeting to go to.”

Meke licked her lips. Her thoughts came slowly and sluggishly, as if slime and tar mired her brain’s neural pathways. “I’m still tired. Why don’t you go ahead?”

“No Meke, you’ll want to do this. I’ve already spoken with the doctors. You’re fine.”

Meke rubbed her eyes. She didn’t feel fine.

The time between now and when she fell asleep in the mountains remained fuzzy and imprecise in her memory. She only knew a few things. They had left Trang and John buried somewhere in the mountains. Trove lay in bed, motionless. Meke knew the last one with a startling certainty since she could feel his still body a few rooms away. Doctor Ball and Jens sat in cells deep in the Barrack’s bowels. She knew that with the same certainty.
 

Meke poked at the tight plaster on her left hand. She had broken her left hand during the mission without even realizing it.
 

 
“How’s Trove?” Meke asked.

Arya shrugged. “Still sleeping. He lost a lot of blood, so the doctors want him to rest.”
 

Meke rubbed her eyes. “Have you found out anything about these patients?” Meke asked.

Arya’s smile was a tiny one, more of a twitch than a smile. “Yes, and that’s why you should get ready. I was able to get Sterling to let you observe this meeting. They’ll be discussing these patients,” Arya said. “It was the least that we could do.”

Meke flung off her sheets. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
 

She rushed into the bathroom, still wobbly from her three-day bed rest and dehydration. Her one hand fumbled with her uniform’s loops and clasps. When she managed to put her clothes on without mishap, she sighed. The clothes felt good on her skin, much better than these thin sheets.
 

“Before we go,” Arya paused, shifting in the chair, “understand something. I had to pull a favor with Sterling to let you in.” Arya glanced up. “This is a meeting only for top commanders. I’m lucky I got you in, so please don’t make a fuss.”

Meke sighed and nodded. Arya stood up, put her hand on Meke’s forearm. Arya’s hand looked very small on the black fabric. “I’m glad that you’re safe now.” Arya smiled. “Let’s go.”

◆
   
◆
   
◆

Meke craned her neck, trying to see past the bodies in front of her. She could only see parts of Sterling’s face as he sat back, listening to the other commanders.

She had never seen most of the commanders before. One of them was a middle-aged woman with dark red hair and deep lines around her mouth. Her mouth moved rapidly, pointing at the large screen hanging on the wall. The others were younger, mostly clean-shaved men with sharp eyes. All different shapes graced their hands. Some boasted a proud Fiver. Others had Squares. One Equi stood out, a quiet, slight woman at the far corner.

No matter how Meke focused, the spoken words eluded her. Her sense didn’t work very well for lip-reading. They all faced Sterling, with their backs toward her.
 

Arya snuck in a few signs here and there. “Alika intercepted some e-comms between the institution and Donner.”

Meke knew Lucio Donner. Everyone knew who he was. Prosperon had a president, but the true power lay in the First Special Minister of Science and Technology, Lucio Donner. Everyone knew that he would step into the President’s office in Technologia once Edgar Tolls reached his capacity.
 

“Samuel has some insider information from Technologia.”

Meke sighed, sinking back into her chair. She had hoped for some conclusive declaration, not this quibbling over e-comms and spies.
 

They became very interested in what the red-haired woman showed them. Everyone passed a large handheld to one another, each peering at it for a long while.

Meke tried to see the screen, but she couldn’t. Arya, after she got the handheld, slid it to Meke.
 

Her eyes widened as she read it.