Secret Value of Zero, The (4 page)

Meke glanced at the handheld, wishing for one. As a Zero, she could never have a handheld. Only Fivers and Stars could carry them and knew how to use them. The rest did things the ordinary, hard way.

As they reached the bottom floor, Trove crouched by the door. His shoulders flexed, visible even through the thick black fabric, as he turned to look up and down the hallway.
 

Meke slid along the wall, feeling purposeless and directionless.

They crept along the turning and twisting hallways, stopping and going to re-program the cameras.
 

Meke's mind filled with sudden vibrations. She clutched her head; her mind could only interpret the feelings as pain. She stopped in the middle of the hallway. Trove, a few paces away, waved her on, face set in impatience. She shook her head, unable to form a coherent thought other than, there is someone there.

Trove pulled her arm. This time it was no gentle tug; it was a wrench. Meke jerked free, her jaw set. She wouldn't be dragged about.
 

She knew there was something ahead of them, hidden away in another hallway. She raised her hands and signed. “There are people ahead of us. Let’s go another way.”

Trove looked at her blankly. He didn’t understand her. Panic started to grow in her chest. She needed to make herself understood. She grabbed his arm, mouthed the word people and pointed in the direction of where she felt the tickling sensation. Trove looked at her strangely. He turned his head sideways, listening for any sounds of movement.
 

He shook his head at Meke. He grasped her arm so tight that his fingers sunk into hear arms. With a quick glance around, he pulled her along. Meke thought about struggling, but knew it would be worse than useless.

They turned the corner and faced a guard.
 

The stocky man’s jaw went slack with surprise. The surprise only lasted a few moments. The guard reached for his baton—the usual weapon of all of the institution’s guards—and had it halfway out of its holster when Trove punched him in the jaw.
 

The man staggered back but regained his footing against the wall. Trove reached into his boot and whipped out his dagger. As the man struggled upright, Trove walked up to him, his dagger glinting under the fluorescent lights.
 

Meke stood frozen, watching. She felt a sudden emergence of movement behind her. She twirled around and saw yet another guard.

A second passed with the two of them staring at each other. The guard opened his mouth.
 

As soon as she saw him move, Meke ran at the man, pushing him against the wall. The impact knocked the man’s breath out of his chest. His eyes went wide and he gasped.

 
Meke was already pressed up against the man, fumbling for his baton. The man tried to shove her away, but he had no purchase, so he ended up just swatting her. Meke pushed away his flailing hands and grabbed the baton’s cool handle, drawing it out of the holster.
 

Once Meke had the baton in her hands, the guard’s face turned ugly with anger. He lunged at her, but Meke hopped away. He lunged again, but went past her as Meke moved away.
 

She brought the baton down on the guard’s head with a solid thump that reverberated through the handle. He crumpled down to the floor, clutching his skull. Blood streamed past his fingers.
 

The guard brought a knee up, but couldn't lift himself up. Meke’s thoughts barreled around.
What should I do? Should I hit him again? What if he’s hurt?

She raised the baton, preparing for another blow. Suddenly, she felt a firm grip on her wrist. She had been so focused on the man in front of her that she had ignored the movements behind her. Trove took the baton from her and kicked the man onto his back. With one swift stroke, Trove crushed the man’s windpipe.
 

The man sputtered and coughed, then remained still. Meke stood there, frozen once again. The man lay at her feet, eyes open and unseeing. She would have hit him again, but she doubted that she would have been as efficient.
 

She could feel Trove’s eyes on her. His black eyes had a strange glint in them, a mixture of surprise, worry and, the strangest of them all, fear. The look disappeared as he glanced up at the cameras and waved her on.
 

She followed.

NO LONGER was their journey hindered by concern for the cameras. Trove and Meke sprinted past these black holes, their images flickering on a screen somewhere. It no longer mattered since their diversion had alerted security. There was no point in hiding. They ran in the hallways that descended deep into the institution’s underbelly. They left behind neat, shiny white hallways, entering dank hallways that stretched out seemingly for miles.
 

Meke panted, she had no time to wonder where she was going. Surely they had already travelled beyond the institution’s high walls.
 

They skidded to a halt when they came to a dead end. Meke’s heart beat even faster. They were trapped, but Trove didn’t seem concerned.

Trove looked up and waved his handheld over a small box. A hatch slid open overhead.

Meke could feel the world beyond that small opening. She hadn’t been out there in eight years. For a few moments, she stood there, staring at the blank wall. The world beyond overhead felt too large and unwieldy.
 

Trove nudged her toward the overhead hole. Meke looked up and saw the stars’ faint glimmer. She exhaled and jumped, grabbing the edges. Trove pushed her feet upward, propelling Meke into the world.

The moonless night submerged Meke in pitch blackness. The stars glowed too dimly to illuminate anything. As her eyes adjusted, a new world emerged.

A world filled only with sensations.

Instead of the night’s darkness, Meke could feel every contour, every dip of the earth below her. She blinked, trying to erase the feelings from her mind. She could feel Trove’s bulk lifting itself out of the hole. Stumbling a bit on a rock behind her, she tried to make sense of the world. The distance between her, the ground, Trove and the trees no longer made sense. Up felt the same as down. Left was indistinguishable from right.
 

As Trove landed on his feet, he retrieved a pair of glasses from his chest pocket and placed them on his face. He grabbed Meke’s hand and ran. Meke’s feet stumbled over each other, her brain trying to navigate a new sensory world as she moved. Trove pulled her up a sharp incline full of small rocks that gave way under her.
 

Meke’s head whirled with the deluge of sensory information pouring into her head. The world beneath and around her expanded too large, too vivid and too inconstant. Meke could feel every rock, tree and piece of ice around them. Without sight, she couldn’t make sense of the tactile world around her.

Meke squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t stop her dizziness or her staggering. The new world was too inconstant for her to walk, let alone run.

Trove stopped. His mouth moved, but Meke could hardly know what he said. All she felt was an arm snaking around her waist and lifting her onto a hard shoulder. She twisted and turned, trying to loosen herself from his grip. I’m not a child, Meke thought. Then she thought that she was slowing things down. She still hated it. Her head ached so much, her resistance grew too tiresome for her.
 

The world steadied only slightly as Trove carried her through the tall trees, weaving in and out of the thin trunks. The wind and cold numbed Meke’s face and hands and she waited for when she could walk again.

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Meke could see a faint light illuminating several bodies in the distance. Trove sped up , bouncing Meke painfully on his shoulder. The impeding sanctuary made Meke fidget, wanting to be free of interfering hands and arms.
 

Trove finally released her, placing her on the ground without as much as a bump. Meke huffed. She was no gentle, delicate thing to be coddled. Still dizzy, she followed Trove into the illuminated area. Arya stood, face drawn in harsh lines by the light.

The light anchored her mind. Now her mental compass knew north from south, east from west. The faint contours and shapes around her still disoriented her, but less so when she could focus at something.
 

As her mind gained its bearings, the sight of Arya’s face soothed Meke’s jangled nerves. Arya was a known quantity; someone who could communicate with her. Meke had the strange urge to cling onto Arya and never let go.

Trove jogged to Arya, pointing in the direction of the institution. Arya’s eyes widened as she heard Trove’s words. The next few moments descended into a flurry of motion.
 

Arya jabbed the handheld. Trove was panting and Meke could just make out the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. After a moment of harried conversation, Arya looked up at Meke. “We have to go. The guards are after us.”

Meke glanced at Trove who straightened himself. She could feel him struggle not to gasp for breath. “Are you sure he can handle it?” she asked Arya.

Arya looked at Trove, whose face looked impassive as his chest rose and fell. “He’ll be fine. He’s one of the best.”

Best or not, Meke wasn’t exactly a feather. She was tall and broad in the shoulders, full of dense muscles. Meke supposed even the best had their limitations.

Trove’s lips moved so slowly that even Meke could understand him. “Arya, I can’t. I’m exhausted.”

Arya blinked and after some conversation with Trove. Meke stood by, feeling like a broken appendage.
 

Arya said, “Since Trove can’t carry you anymore and we have a limited number of night-vision goggles, you both will need to take the lamp.” She glanced back at the faint figures of Theria and the boy, whom Meke hadn't noticed before, but she had no time to wonder who he was. “Be careful. The lamp may attract the guards, but it seems like we have no choice.”

Meke’s heart pounded. Despite the danger, she felt relief that she wouldn’t spend the remainder of the night wavering between nausea and dizziness. Meke and Trove walked on, the light illuminating the rocks only a meter in front of them. Whenever she looked up from the light’s glow, the sensory world made her woozy. Meke kept her eyes on the lighted area. Trove kept the pace steady but fast so Meke didn’t think about the institution getting smaller in the distance.

The hours ticked by and the sun rose past the mountain peaks. The early morning sunlight shone through the tall, thin evergreens, splintering into little rays. Only then did Meke manage a small smile. For years, she had gazed at these wispy evergreens stretching into the sky. Now, she could feel the hard bristle of their needles on her arms and face as they passed through a thick patch of trees. The bristle made the trees feel more real, as if she was part of the world once again.

Not only did the light bring back the beauty and color to the surroundings, but the light also anchored her mind. She could finally look up from that tiny circle and take in the world around her. Her mind cleared as they approached the others.

A stocky boy, no more than sixteen, leaned on Theria, stumbling slightly on the rocky, uneven terrain. His blond hair hung over his unfocused eyes.

Meke had seen him somewhere before. Her hazy memories suddenly cleared. He had been at the institution as well. Meke could see the faint glow of the Zero on his hands.
 

He looked different now. Meke tried to place it. Then the image arose in her head. He used a white cane to navigate the institution’s twists and turns.
 

He was blind.

Meke wondered why he had been rescued and why only they had been rescued.

As the brightening sunlight penetrated her brain, sharpening her thoughts, more questions came.
 

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“We lost them.” Arya said, leaning on a tall tree trunk, chest rising and falling in a rapid beat. “In a way, it doesn’t matter, I can’t go much further.”

Meke stopped at a tree, panting. She hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours and they had been on foot for hours. She couldn’t scrounge up more than a feeble nod.

Despite the exhaustion muddling her mind, the prickly touch of the tree’s rough trunk awed and enthralled her. Her fingers grazed the tree trunk, feeling the hard ridges. Meke had never been this close to a tree before. Before the institution, she had lived in Vigorton where no trees or grass dared to grow. Concrete, glass and steel lined every street, building and light in Vigorton. Vigorton was no different from any other Prosperous city—all metal and concrete. Nature wasn’t efficient enough for Prosperon.
 

Meke sighed, letting her fingers sweep through the evergreen’s needles. They didn’t prickle and hurt, as she had expected. Instead, they were soft and pliant in her fingers. She looked up to the sight of Trove staring at her. She dropped her hands away from the needles. Color and heat flushed her neck and face.

Why was she embarrassed? Meke forced her eyes to keep contact. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, just touching some plant.
 

Trove glanced away, breaking the strange stupor between them. Meke smiled. She didn’t want his gaze forced upon her. Especially not when her opinion of him wasn’t much higher than her own boot.

Then Meke remembered how tired Trove had seemed last night. He looked a bit better, but still worn around the edges. She wondered why he looked so tired, but then she got too tired.

Meke yawned, all thoughts of Trove fading into a stupor. Everyone else nestled in the thick woods, taking refuge at tree trunks. Theria slumped at the base of a tree, a dagger clutched in her lap. The strange blond-haired boy had his eyes closed already, his head leaning back on the same tree as Theria.

Trove slid two swords into a back-holster. The swords shone as they crisscrossed each other. Everyone knew that the sword was the hardest of all weapons, the most prestigious. Meke felt begrudging admiration for these shiny weapons.