Grip (The Slip Trilogy Book 2)

  “It’s the dead truth,” Harrison says. “I swear it.”

  “I believe you,” Chuck says.

  Nadine’s been unusually quiet, Harrison notices. “Nadine?”

  “You’re a criminal,” she says quietly. “And she’s a Slip.” Harrison wasn’t originally going to offer the truth about Destiny, but then she blurted it out. Chuck’s eyes had widened and Nadine looked like she was going to be sick.

  “It’s not like that,” Harrison says. “Everything we’re taught in school, everything the government says, it’s not the full truth.”

  “Why would they lie?” Nadine asks, looking at Chuck. “Your father controls the Crows. I’ve met him. He seems nice. Surely he wouldn’t be involved in a massive government cover up.”

  “I don’t know,” Chuck says. “I hope not. But he’s secretive about a lot of things. Just like Harrison’s dad was.”

  At the mention of Michael Kelly, Harrison feels a weight press against his chest. His father hid so much from him. So very much. “Your father is nothing like mine,” he says.

  Chuck runs a hand through his short, spiky hair. “Why did you find us, Harrison?” he asks.

  Harrison tells them about Benson’s Death Match.

  Nadine shakes her head, her teeth grinding together. “I don’t even know you anymore,” she growls. “You’re asking us to help two known fugitives kill an innocent man.”

  The way she says the word innocent makes Harrison’s stomach clench. But he’s come too far to back down now. He’ll do whatever it takes to give Benson the life that he stole from him when he pushed his way into the world first. “I’m asking you to help me correct a great injustice,” Harrison says evenly, tightening his abs to control his roiling gut.

  “No,” Nadine says. “I won’t do it. When you went missing, I was freaking out, Harrison. And when your mother escaped from the asylum and they said you were involved, I defended you. I told everyone they were wrong, that my boyfriend”—she spits the word out like a piece of bad meat; Harrison notices Destiny look sharply in his direction, but ignores her—“would never do something like that. When I realized I was wrong, I was crushed. They treated me like a pariah, like I was cursed because I’d been close to you.” She glances at Chuck. “Chuck was the only one who stood up for me, who was there for me. He said you’d have wanted me to stick with you. Would you have wanted that, Harrison? Because from where I’m sitting you never even thought twice about what impact your actions would have on me. You and your new Slip girlfriend can rot in prison for all I care.”

  Although he wishes they wouldn’t, Nadine’s words slice through him like daggers. The truth is, Harrison hadn’t given a second thought to Nadine when he was doing all that stuff. Sure, he’d liked her, had a good time with her, LOVED making out with her—but that was it. She was just another girl in a string of girls that he’d lined up like dominoes in a row. As long as he didn’t knock one over, there’d be no problem. But apparently their relationship meant a whole lot more to Nadine. She was the domino that’d fallen over, and now she was out for blood.

  “I’m sorry,” Harrison says. “I didn’t think. I didn’t realize—”

  “No, you didn’t,” Nadine says. “But I don’t need your apology because I’ve moved on. Like way on. Chuck is sweet and thoughtful and, most importantly… Not. A. Criminal.”

  Chuck looks embarrassed, his eyes locked on his hands, which fiddle with each other in his lap. Harrison’s about to apologize again because he doesn’t know what else to say but Destiny speaks first. “I know you’re hurt and that Harrison is the one who hurt you. I’m not surprised.” Harrison feels his cheeks heat up. He opens his mouth to interject, but Destiny raises a hand to silence him. “In a lot of ways, I think he’s still that smooth guy you fell for, the one with the quick wit and the one-liners that make you want to throw up and kiss him all at the same time.”

  “But hopefully not at the same time…like in my mouth,” Harrison says. “Because that would be gross.”

  “See what I mean?” Destiny says. “But he’s also heroic—he saved my life three times—and he loves his twin brother. Or he at least wants to love him. He’s trying to love him. All I know is that I want to help him. If you aren’t willing to help us, I understand. You’re from a different world. You can get out of the car and we’ll leave you alone forever. Just please don’t tell anyone you saw us.”

  Damage control. That’s what Destiny’s doing, Harrison realizes. Because of her hatred for him, Nadine is about two seconds away from pushing the panic button on her portable holo-screen. Idiot. Moron. That’s what he is. Blind, too. Clueless. The moment he saw Chuck with Nadine he should’ve realized how this would go down. He’s put them both in danger, which has consequently put Benson’s future at risk. And he can’t have that.

  “Please,” Harrison adds, trying to make it sound as heartfelt and pitiful as possible. “Hate me, but don’t hate my brother. He’s done nothing wrong except be born.”

  “Maybe that was enough,” Nadine says scornfully. Harrison holds his breath, watching as her fingers brush the edge of her holo. She’s going to do it. He slides his fingers over to the button to open the aut-car door. If necessary, they’ll have to throw themselves from a moving vehicle. His muscles are already protesting, tightening, as if in anticipation of future pain.

  “But I won’t turn you in,” Nadine says, slipping her holo into a small purse. “I’m not like you. I don’t abandon people. I suspect you’ll get caught on your own, but I won’t be the one to do it.” With that, she presses the STOP button on the aut-car’s navigation screen and the vehicle eases to a stop.

  The door opens, bottom to top, and she steps out agilely. An athlete, even in the most mundane situations. She offers a hand to Chuck.

  Chuck looks at the hand, then back at Harrison. Harrison says, “Thanks for listening. It was good seeing you again. Nadine’s probably right, I’m dangerous. Staying away from me is a smart move.”

  Chuck frowns, but then nods, twisting around to grab Nadine’s hand, a hand that used to burn fingerprints into Harrison’s chest. “I’ll call you later,” Chuck says to Nadine, kissing her hand. She frowns, starts to say something, but Chuck presses the button to close the door and her words are lost behind the soundproof glass window as the aut-car pulls away from the curb. An old fragment of Harrison’s shattered past seems to disappear in an instant.

  He stares at his friend. “You’re helping me?” he says incredulously.

  “Of course,” Chuck says. “You’d do the same for me. And anyway, I’ve known you a hell of a lot longer than Nadine has.”

  Harrison can’t stop the laugh that bursts from the back of his throat. “Thank you,” is all he can think of to say.

  “No problem. But you’re going to owe me big time. I don’t break the law for just anyone.”

  “If I survive the next couple of days, we can start talking about ways I can pay you back,” Harrison says.

  “I’m sure I can think of something that will duly embarrass you,” Chuck says, laughing. All at once, their laughter fades and the space between Harrison and his old friend seems to widen, like a crack in the earth. Chuck says, “School and practice hasn’t been the same without your cocky ass around.”

  Harrison swallows heavily. So quick was he to leave his old life behind that he never once considered the impact his actions would have on his friends. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I never wanted any of this.”

  “I know,” Chuck says.

  Destiny clears her throat, drawing both boys’ attention. Harrison had almost forgotten she was there.

  Chuck says, “Your new girlfriend is hot.”

  Destiny says, “I’m not his girlfriend. Guys are idiots.”

  “Spunky, too,” Chuck adds.

  Harrison grins. “Hope I didn’t screw things up for you with Nadine.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “I liked her,” Destiny says. “Except for the w
hole Slips-are-criminals thing.”

  “We all think that way,” Chuck says. “Harrison did, too. At least he used to. We’re programmed to believe what we learn in school.”

  “Government propaganda,” Harrison says.

  Chuck’s jaw seems to tighten, but then his face relaxes and he manages a lopsided grin. “So you’re looking for a guy?” He pulls out his holo and starts tapping away at the screen.

  Harrison provides all the details that Wire gave him before they left. He’d committed them to memory. The only piece of information that was missing was the Death Match’s current location, something that even Wire struggled to obtain. Harrison remembers why Death Match locations are kept so highly secret: so that no one tries to kill them early; which, of course, is exactly what he’s trying to do.

  Chuck continues to tap at his screen, and three-dimensional images begin to emerge in front of them, twisting in the air. An old guy’s face, riddled with wrinkles, dark bags under his eyes and a sly smile, like he knows a secret. The secret to a long life, Harrison thinks wryly. A long life that ruined Benson’s.

  Chuck maintains a constant stream of chatter as he taps. “My father keeps his password on a holo-note above his desk at home. How pathetic is that? The leader of the Crows can’t remember his own password. All right, I’m in. Your guy’s not far. We can be there in thirty minutes.” An address projects into the air. Golden Age Village. 1 Happy Drive. There’s no room number, but Harrison suspects that information will be easy enough to come by when they get there.

  With a few deft taps of the aut-car navigation screen and another swipe of his LifeCard, Chuck reroutes their path to the retirement home. The car swings a quick right without slowing down, perfectly in sync with oncoming traffic, which seems to melt around them.

  The familiar glow of neon holo-ads permeates the car windows, casting their faces in a silver sheen. Destiny stares outside, entranced. “Ever been to the big city?” Chuck asks.

  “Never,” Destiny says. “It’s not safe for people like me.”

  “And other places are?”

  “Safer,” she says, her eyes never leaving the sidewalks, where flocks of people seek out the hottest spots for night life. Although they’re dressed in heavy layers because of the cold, the weather doesn’t keep them inside, not with the heated sidewalks and snowmelt drainage system used by the city.

  “What I just don’t get,” Chuck says, “is how you survived so long. You know, as a Slip.”

  Finally, Destiny peels her gaze from outside, settling it on Chuck. She shrugs. “Being cautious, being lucky, being skillful—it’s all the same thing at some point.”

  Harrison likes that answer. It’s humble. If he were asked the same question, he probably would’ve taken all the credit for his own survival. Destiny takes little.

  “What I also don’t get,” Chuck continues, “is how you convinced Harrison here to help you.” Harrison frowns, noticing a slight edge in his friend’s voice.

  “She didn’t convince me,” Harrison says. “I offered. And I’m not helping her—she’s helping me.”

  Chuck sighs. “You know, Nadine might be a better person than me, but she’s also a fool.” There’s no mistaking the animosity in his tone now. Harrison instinctively moves further away, sliding protectively in front of Destiny.

  “How so?” Harrison says. His hand silently moves to the button to open the door.

  “She’s going to burn just like the two of you,” Chuck says, grinning maliciously, his teeth as white as snow.

  “Chuck?” Harrison says. “What did you do?”

  “What Nadine refused to do. Snitched on you. My father works too hard to allow criminals like you to roam the streets of Saint Louis, causing trouble. And Nadine will get the same fate for knowingly looking the other way.”

  A plume of anger streaks from Harrison’s chest to his head, but then dies out almost as fast as it comes, leaving him cold and sad. “Why?” he asks. “Why would you do this? We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  “And yet I don’t feel like I know you at all,” Chuck says.

  Harrison closes his eyes, tightens his hand into a fist, and smashes it down on the button, simultaneously grabbing Destiny and pushing her, his body tensing for the impact he knows is about to come.

  But it never does. At least not in the form he expected—cold, hard asphalt. Instead his shoulder merely barges into the inside of the door, which doesn’t move. He jams his fist on the button one more time, then again, but it doesn’t open.

  He whirls on Chuck. “Open it.”

  Chuck grins. “This is a private aut-car my father leases. When I lock it, like I did after Nadine left, it only responds to my commands.” The car eases to a stop.

  “Open it,” Harrison demands again.

  “As you wish,” Chuck says. “Doors—open.”

  With a swish the passenger door opens and Harrison pulls Destiny out into the cold night air.

  He freezes the moment he sees them.

  Five Crows and at least that many SecurityBots. His heart sinks into his stomach. Destiny is going to die because of him. And he’s failed Benson because he trusted his childhood friend.

  “You’re surrounded and there’s no escape,” one of the Crows says, stepping forward. “Come quietly and we won’t have to subdue you.”

  Screw that, Harrison thinks as he shoves Destiny hard to the side and launches himself at their enemies.

  There’s a bright blue light and the crackle of electricity and then his body goes limp, burning with heat and shaking like a child’s plaything.

  The last thing he sees before losing consciousness: the gray-black cloud-full sky, painted with spinning snowflakes rather than stars.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bright white light greets Harrison when he regains consciousness, like an alien spacecraft landing on his head.

  He jams his eyes shut, groaning when he feels the dull ache in his ribs and abs. He tries to shift a hand to feel for permanent damage, but his arms won’t budge. He tests one foot, then the other, with the same result. He’s tied to some sort of bed. Well, bed is being far too generous. More like a metal plank, cold and hard. Like an operating table.

  The thought causes an icy finger of fear to start probing in his gut, as if checking that all his internal organs are present and accounted for. Are they going to do something to him? Cut into him? Or have they already? God knows how many hours have passed with him lying prostrate and defenseless on this steel slab. They could’ve done anything to him in that time.

  Anything. The word holds an endless number of horrifying possibilities.

  And who is they? he wonders for a moment, before the darkness behind his eyelids is shattered by memories. Shunned by his ex-girlfriend. Betrayed by his best friend. Tased by the Crows. And now…I’m alive.

  The truth hits him like a hard slap in the face. He knows all too well that his crimes are punishable by death, and yet, he’s alive. But for what purpose?

  An iron spike of anger strikes him in the chest as he realizes there’s no one who can save him. His father built a lifetime of lies in an organization he hated all so he could save Benson at some unknown time in the future, which, by the way, may never have even come to pass. But now his father is dead, so who’s going to save Harrison?

  No one, that’s who.

  And what of Destiny? he wonders. Did they spare her, too?

  The answer sucks the breath out of him, beating like a bass drum.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  Pop Con would never spare a Slip. When it comes to unauthorized beings and Slips, “Shoot on sight” is Pop Con’s mantra. They would have shot her less than a second after subduing him.

  The pain he feels in his chest is indescribably worse than any lingering effects of being Tased. He grits his teeth and forces his lungs to breathe, his heart to beat slowly, evenly. Falling into a well of despair won’t help anyone, himself included.
And he needs to stay strong so he doesn’t fail what’s left of his family.

  He knows he should continue to pretend like he’s sleeping, but fear of who or what might be standing directly next to him forces his eyes open. Squinting at first, he gradually raises each lid, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the bright sheet of light overhead. The light is so close and so fiercely bright that he can feel heat emanating from it, like a bonfire.

  It’s intended to make him sweat. A slab of ice beneath him—a burning fire above him.

  Something is holding his head firmly in place, so that he’s unable to move it from side to side. He strains against his bindings, heat flooding his head and neck, his muscles popping. Sweat rises from his pores, instantly cooling his skin and making it slippery. Despite the tautness of the strap clamping his head to the hard surface, he manages to tilt his head by a single degree, opening up his peripheral vision just enough to take in the small room that is clearly his prison.

  He’s naked from the waist up, with only a tiny white towel wrapped around his hips. The thought of strangers’ hands undressing him while unconscious makes him want to punch someone’s teeth out. He sighs, letting the urge pass. It’s kind of hard to punch someone’s teeth out when you can’t move your arms.

  From the edges of his vision he can tell the walls are dark. Not cast in shadows, but actually dark. Giant holo-screens. What are they going to do, show him bad sitcom episodes until he gives up?

  His brief moment of indulgent frivolity passes when he sees her.

  Although she also has a panel of lights overhead, they’re switched off, casting her in a shroud of inky shadows. The dead don’t require lights, he thinks grimly, swallowing a thick wad of sadness.

  Like Harrison’s, Destiny’s clothes have been removed, with only two thin towels to cover her modesty—a small and unexpected kindness. As his eyes continue to adjust, he morbidly scans her lifeless body for signs of injury. Subconsciously he realizes he should just STOP FREAKING LOOKING, but, for some reason that’s beyond his own comprehension, he has to know how she died. Was it quick and painless or a long, drawn out death? He has to believe it was the former. Anything else would kill him.