Quake

  Dylan kicked the ground with the toe of his boot, waited silently until Faith spoke again.

  “You have to do it with your bare hands. No hiding behind your pulse. If you’re going to kill two people in cold blood, you need to take responsibility for how that’s going to feel.”

  Dylan looked up at the cage thoughtfully, then back at Faith. She secretly hoped he wouldn’t take the bait, because she wanted to believe the man she loved couldn’t do it, not even to the Quinns.

  He surprised her by flying up to the cage and peering inside, and not being able to help herself, she followed. Inside, both Clara and Wade were badly weakened. It would be easy enough to pull them against their will into the ivy and hold them until they stopped breathing.

  “I’ll open the door for you if this is really what you want,” Faith said. “I understand how much they took from you.”

  For a long moment Dylan stared at the two people who had caused him so much pain. He turned to Faith, put an arm around her, pulled her close.

  “Keeping you safe is all I care about. But I can’t do it. I won’t.”

  Faith turned into an embrace and they kissed. She touched his battered arms and looked into his eyes, smiling. She didn’t have to speak. Dylan knew how she felt. It makes me happy you couldn’t do it.

  “Get a room, losers,” Clara said.

  Faith and Dylan laughed a little bit at Clara’s bitterness and spiraled to the ground, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

  They rested for the night, taking turns watching the cage, and an hour before dawn they moved once more. As the sun came up over the Western State, they found themselves surrounded by an armed air patrol. These soldiers knew by now what they were dealing with in Faith and Dylan—two second pulses, unstoppable—and when they were a mile away from the Western State a negotiation ensued.

  “We can’t let you any closer than this,” a voice said. “Too risky. We don’t know what you might do. Our only choice would be to open fire with everything we’ve got.”

  The commander was inside the Western State, no doubt sitting next to the president, but he was communicating through a hover drone floating fifty yards away from Faith. A few dozen more armed drones flew like honeybees around the perimeter, along with a whole battalion of Western State troops in jet packs and hovercraft.

  Faith observed all the firepower that surrounded her and fairly marveled at the fact that none of it was capable of inflicting so much as a scratch across her skin.

  “We don’t need to go any closer than this,” Faith said. She didn’t have to yell over the sound of all the machinery in the air, because it was all whisper-silent tech. “This is far enough.”

  The commander drone, sheathed in blue with a white star for a nose, proceeded closer.

  “You’ll need to come inside for processing,” the commander said through its crystal-clear audio system. “Will you do that willingly?”

  “They do have great technology,” Dylan said. “Maybe we could ask for a home theater system and a crate of movies as part of the—”

  “Dylan.” Faith put up a hand in his face. “I love you, but we’ve got a few warheads pointing in our direction and some net bombs that could actually complicate this situation. Can we cool it on the jokes for five?”

  Dylan wilted comically. “Was I joking?” He’d moved past worrying about ammo pointed in his direction and gone straight to comic relief.

  “Just stay here and hold down the fort. Can you do that for me?”

  “Get the Matrix trilogy and all the Star Wars movies in high definition and you got a deal.”

  Faith rolled her eyes. “It’s like working with a nine-year-old.”

  “And Star Trek,” Jade added. “The original show, not the movies.”

  Faith pulled away from Jade and Dylan and hoped the two of them would stay put and keep quiet. When she was close enough to have what could be laughingly called a private conversation, she spoke to the commander of the Western State armed forces.

  “I’m Faith Daniels. Behind me are Dylan and Jade Gilmore. We mean you no harm. We’ve never done anything but try our best to protect you. It’s possible that everything we’ve done will never be known by a single soul in the Western State or any other State system. And we’re okay with that. We’d prefer it that way, actually.”

  The drone stared at Faith, wobbling gently in the sky, like a jagged eye that never blinked. There was no reply.

  “We’re not like anyone inside. We’re different,” Faith said, glancing around the space she was floating in. “Obviously you already know that. You’re just going to have to trust us when we say we’ve done some good things for you. We’ve protected you. And we brought you Prisoner One’s two children. Clara and Wade Quinn.”

  Faith raised her chin to the side, her long blond ponytail jumping softly behind her in the gentle breeze. Clara and Wade hadn’t talked for more than an hour, but they talked now.

  “She’s lying!” Clara screamed, ramming her body into the walls of the ivy cage in abject frustration. It was an act of defiance that must have really hurt given her weakened condition.

  “You couldn’t hold my father,” Wade said defiantly. “You’re sure as hell not going to hold us.”

  The words were hollow, said through the mouth of a boy who had become a very bad man. There was nearly no fight left in the sound of Wade’s voice.

  Faith looked at the drone as if it really was the commander of the army and she moved close enough to reach out and touch it. “We killed Prisoner One. He’s gone. He’s not going to cause you any more trouble. And we brought you these two. One of them killed my best friend. The other one killed my parents. They’ve killed other people we love. And they plotted to kill every living soul in there.”

  Faith pointed to the Western State and finally a voice emerged from the drone. But it wasn’t the commander’s this time.

  “Ms. Daniels, this is the president of the Western State. I have before me a report created by a hacker who calls himself Aslan.”

  “Hawk!” Jade yelled. “He’s talking about Hawk!”

  Faith turned and put a hand up. Please, Jade, keep quiet.

  “This report, which appears to be completely valid, contains video and audio files of a kind that we would prefer not to share with the general population of the State system. It traces much of your activity over these many months, including the deaths of your parents, Liz Brinn, Gretchen Quinn, a drifter known only as Clooger, a man named Carl, Meredith Gilmore, and a drifter with a known alias of Glory.”

  Hearing the names of all the people Faith and Dylan had lost, stacked up neat and tidy like cordwood, took the wind out of Faith. She felt her knees shaking, her mind faltering with the weight of sadness. Dylan came up beside her, then Jade on the other side.

  “We’ve lost a lot of people we love,” Dylan said. His voice was strong and firm, the humor gone. “We’d like to get one back, if you don’t mind.”

  “We’ll give you the Quinns,” Jade said in her defiant way. “We could have just killed them, but we didn’t. We could have let them die in the cage. But we don’t go around killing people. Even bad people.”

  Faith got her legs back and started to speak, but the president started in first.

  “As I’ve already said, we are aware of what you’ve done. And while it flies well outside the bounds of Western State regulations, we’re prepared to look the other way. Aslan has agreed to terminate all copies of this report—”

  Faith cut him short: “But only if you grant some requests.”

  There was a lengthy silence on the other end in which Faith could imagine the president of the Western State grinding his teeth and hating the fact that he was being told what to do. When he resumed, he spoke in the same measured tone as before.

  “We in turn have agreed to take in these two prisoners and release a recent entry into the State system who goes by the name of Hawk. Finally, we agree to let you leave in peace, to live outside the S
tate system, and to do so without a trace. That is the whole of our arrangement. That is our offer. Do you comply?”

  Dylan nudged Faith with his elbow but didn’t look at her.

  “Seriously?”

  She got no answer and felt, in the end, that it couldn’t hurt to at least ask.

  “There are some movies we’d like to have. And possibly a screen to play them on. And some speakers.”

  “I’ve arranged for Hawk to receive a Tablet with every movie and television show on file to date. Commander?”

  “Approximately twenty-nine million files, sir.”

  “I will assume this complies with your viewing pleasure and we are agreed on terms. I must stress, once again: your story can never be told. These records can never be released. And if you should come across this hacker, Aslan, we ask that you allow us the opportunity to speak with him privately.”

  Did they know Hawk and Aslan were the same person? Somehow Faith thought they probably did. Hawk was undoubtedly smart enough to sever the connection between the two, technically speaking, but the evidence was hard to ignore.

  Faith knew, finally, why it was that she could never let herself enter the world of the States. The president hadn’t said the words, not exactly. He didn’t need to. It was plain as day. An ignorant society is a safe society. Better they not know they were seconds away from total annihilation.

  “We agree to your terms,” Faith said. “We comply.”

  Faith and Dylan shared what they knew about the care and feeding of two second pulses, including what their weakness was. Four of the larger hovercraft connected to the ropes, holding the ivy cage aloft, taking control of the prison Clay had so expertly created. A hundred flying infantry, with weapons at the ready, surrounded the cage.

  “Don’t they know all that firepower is useless against our kind?” Jade asked.

  Faith had never heard it said that way—our kind—and it made her feel closer to Dylan, Hawk, and Jade than she had before.

  “Nope,” Dylan said, throwing an arm around Faith as they drifted toward the ground. “They have a lot of faith in conventional weaponry. It’s a hard habit to break.”

  As they landed on the barren, cleared land outside the Western State, the sky began to clear. They watched from a few miles outside the wall as the ivy-covered cage was covered with a camouflage tarp, hiding the strange and dangerous things inside so prying eyes couldn’t see it. The glowing wall of the Western State was so big around they couldn’t see either end. It vanished on the horizon line, who knew how many miles in either direction.

  “God, that thing is getting big,” Dylan said. “It’ll eat the whole world someday.”

  “And to think everyone inside could have been killed in an instant. It would have been the biggest graveyard in human history.”

  “Either that or Zombieland,” Jade said in a half whisper.

  Dylan and Faith laughed, letting off some of the pressure of the day, and then everything went eerily quiet. The Quinns were gone. The army was gone. They were alone in what was left of the world outside. Three little souls in the barren world outside the States.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Dylan said, looking down at Jade. “How’d you find your second pulse? Or your first? And why’d you keep the second pulse a secret so long?”

  Jade kicked the dirt at her feet and acted as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. She’d been holding on to the secret forever and she was still trying to keep it, even after it had escaped into the open. She looked up at him, squinting into the sun, and Faith could see she had found someone she could count on.

  “Our mom taught me,” Jade said, and Faith was reminded once more: These two people have the same mom. “She told me it was a secret, especially the second pulse. She said it was very rare and very powerful.” She paused, watching the entry point for the Western State. “She said there would come a day and that I would know. She used to tell me all about it before I fell asleep, when I was little and she came to the lodge more often. She told me I would know it was time to tell for three reasons.”

  Faith imagined Jade when she was four or five, Meredith telling fairy-tale stories that were all too real.

  “The first reason I would know it was time was that you would appear,” Jade said. She had shifted her gaze onto Faith. “My mom said you would save the world.” This struck Faith as a strange thing to say, and yet in some ways she did feel like a sacrifice, an open wound the whole world had fallen into.

  “What else did she say?” Faith asked, her heart in her throat.

  “She said that my brother would be here.” Jade looked at Dylan. “She said I could follow him anywhere and he would take care of me. But he wouldn’t come for me for a long time.”

  “You are sort of followable,” Faith said, laughing away a tear as she looked at Dylan. “She’s right about that. What was the third thing?”

  Jade took a deep breath and her brow narrowed, crunching up the soft skin above her eyes.

  “She said to keep the secret safe until it could be used on the one man,” she said. “He could never know. Not until it was too late.”

  “Hotspur Chance,” Dylan said softly.

  Jade’s face softened and tears began to pool around her eyes.

  “When they took Carl and Clooger, I almost told you both. But I kept hearing my mom’s voice. Not until you can use it on the one man. No matter what. And before I knew it, it was too late.”

  “You did a very fine job keeping that secret,” Dylan said.

  Jade nodded quickly a few times and smiled. “I kept it safe, didn’t I?”

  Dylan looked at her as big brothers should. “And you saved a hundred and fifty million people. That’s what Clooger and Carl worked for all their lives. They didn’t die in vain. Not even close.”

  “We did it together,” Jade said.

  Faith smiled wistfully, and then she was crying, too. The ache of so much loss, the relief of being finished, these people who were her family—they all mixed together and took her heart to places it had never been, full and broken wide open.

  “Sometimes I feel like my heart doesn’t fit inside my chest anymore,” Faith said.

  “Mine, too,” Jade agreed.

  The entry point for the Western State opened far off in the distance and the HumGee was released into the world. Hawk gunned it, but the HumGee hovered a few inches off the ground, so there was no fishtailing or sliding. His aim was straight and true like an arrow and Jade began walking toward it. She didn’t fly or run to Hawk; she just walked.

  Faith leaned into Dylan and put her head on his broad shoulder. They watched until the HumGee stopped fifty feet away and Hawk stepped out.

  “I guess we’re the old couple now,” Faith said, looking contentedly into Dylan’s eyes. “Must be nice. I’m worth like a billion dollars.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Hawk and Jade hugged and she planted a serious kiss on his lips that nearly knocked Hawk off his feet. They laughed and smiled and hugged and cried until Faith and Dylan cut the distance between them.

  “If you’re going to be dating my sister, we’re going to need to lay some ground rules,” Dylan said.

  Hawk came in for a full-on man hug. “Half sister,” he corrected.

  Faith put an arm around Hawk’s shoulder and pulled him in close.

  “Aslan? Don’t go getting a God complex on me.”

  Hawk shrugged. “Nah, just needed an alias.”

  Hawk took Jade gently by the hand and squeezed. She looked at him and wiped her delicate hand under her eyes.

  “He likes to hold hands,” Jade said.

  “Yeah, I know about that.” Faith smiled.

  Hawk guided Jade to the backseat of the HumGee and glanced at Faith and Dylan. “One of you can drive. I need to spend some time telling Jade about her dad.”

  Faith wouldn’t have thought of it so soon, but Hawk had thought of it. No one knew Clooger better than Hawk. He would tell Jade about how
much courage Clooger had, but he would also make him into something more than the military man she knew. It was the most romantic gesture Faith had seen in a long time, and she marveled at Hawk’s big heart.

  “He’s a goof, but he’ll put her first,” Faith said to Dylan. “She’s a lucky girl, your little sister.”

  “So am I,” Dylan said, wrapping his arms around Faith and giving her a long, breathless kiss.

  The four of them returned to Timberline Lodge by way of Portland, Oregon. Hawk got his chance to meet some real urban cowboys and listen to Clay tell stories about Carl. They got to have that barbecue by the water, and promised to invite them up to the mountain before the winter set in.

  In time Faith Daniels would open each of the locked rooms in her heart, the ones she’d carefully hidden away until a time when she had the strength to open them up and look inside. There was a room for her parents, another for Glory, one for Clooger, one for Liz, one for Dr. Seuss and her lost childhood. So many rooms full of sadness. She would have to open them carefully, slowly, and learn to hold them in a way that wouldn’t destroy her. She would need to let the tears come and let the information knock her to her knees and take her breath away.

  And hopefully, over time, she would be able to see that the sacrifices made were worth it. She and Dylan and Jade and Hawk would never enter the safety of the States, but they would watch over these things of terrible beauty. They served a purpose she now understood, both symbolic and real. People in the States would hear legend of what they’d done. The story would find its way in; it would live on. It had to, because stories always find the secret way into the hearts and minds of people. And if Wade and Clara ever figured out a way to escape, Faith and Dylan would be waiting; Hawk and Jade, too. They had a place in the broken world they lived in. All that was lost had been worth it.

  It had to be.

  “If you could go back to the beginning, would you rather I never awakened this thing inside you?” Dylan asked one starry evening.

  It was a question not unlike being asked to marry. If she waited too long to answer, the waiting was the answer. Dylan was asking Faith many things with that question. Did she trust him? Did she love him? Did she forgive him for changing her into something new without asking her first?