Surrender

  No such luck. I punched in the codes as they raced through my nervous system, and when the door clicked open, the first whoop! whoop! whoop! nearly knocked me backward.

  It was holy am I deaf yet? loud. I couldn’t help clapping my hands over my ears.

  The strobing orange light that matched the alarm revealed Jag huddled on a bare mattress, doing the exact same thing.

  Getting him out was not going to be easy. At least a dozen guard spiders came to life. Their blue eye glow blended with the flashing orange light and painted the silver walls with creepy light.

  A spider launched itself and landed on my arm, its legs scuttling against my jacket. A wave of blue attacked my feet while I bashed my arm against the doorjamb. I kicked and stomped, but a sharp prick on my left ankle bloomed into full-blown ouch! as it spread up my leg.

  Frustrated, I lifted my arms toward the ceiling and pulled strength from whatever tech I could find. The remaining spiders backed up against Jag, their eyes narrowing into slits. Two seconds later I’d stolen their power, and their bodies clattered to the floor, unmoving.

  I didn’t speak. Neither did Jag. He held out his tech-restrained hands, and I had the cuffs deactivated before another three whoops! sounded.

  Jag and I sprinted toward the stairs, propelled by that ominous orange light. My left leg felt heavy and stiff, but I forced it to move!

  Halfway up the stairwell, another alarm shrieked against the one I’d set off. AD Myers crashed into the Confinement Rise, the assistant said. It was the most shocked I’d ever heard the voice sound.

  I doubled my speed, taking the stairs three at a time. I paused long enough to check the lobby to see if Zenn was waiting for us there, but the strobing spotlight revealed emptiness.

  So I went up another flight, peeking through the window in the door, hoping with every fiber of my being to find Zenn.

  I did. But he wasn’t alone. Thane Myers stood looking out the window with Zenn next to him, his back so straight he must’ve been in severe physical pain. He didn’t move, not even a twitch.

  There went our decoy. Zenn—with his Jagified hair—was supposed to draw officers after him as he flew toward the ocean. Jag and I were going the opposite way.

  Zenn had been caught too early.

  Fear twisted in my stomach. Then Zenn turned, slow slow slow, and his eyes locked onto mine. He touched Thane’s shoulder, and he started to twist also.

  Jag gripped my bicep, thrust his chin upward. A row of silencers adorned his neck. As we flew up another flight of stairs, I became the guy who left everyone behind. Guilt raged inside at leaving Zenn—brainwashed—in Thane’s clutches. At leaving Raine at the mercy of her father, even if phase B of the plan was to see her soon—outside the wall.

  I stumbled over my own feet; my left leg ached. I just wanted this to end. All of it.

  When Jag pushed open the door to the third floor lobby, fresh, frigid air assaulted me.

  I sucked it in, using it to drown out the terror. I pushed past Jag, strode over to the windows. Splintering lines snaked across the glass = Thane’s crash site. I punched once, twice, thrice, four times before the window shattered.

  Another alarm joined the two still raging throughout the city. I yelled, “Rescue!” out the ruined window. My blood was falling to the ground below. My wrist port sparked, and a jolt of techtricity raced up my arm.

  I turned and dragged Jag in front of me. “Jump!” I said, shoving him out. Two seconds later I leapt too.

  After a heartbeat, I crumpled to my knees on my hoverboard, which whined and shook with my impact.

  “Up, up, up,” I urged in my most powerful voice. I cleared the roof just behind Jag—who demonstrated some tight flying skills—and said, “Sector fifteen. Fly south and we’ll meet in ten minutes. Lose your tail.” I jerked my head to the few officers—not as many as there should’ve been—entering the sky behind us.

  “Sector fifteen,” he mouthed.

  “South, southwest, twenty-one degrees,” I instructed Jag. Then I pointed my board toward the northwest corner, drawing half the guards after me and my Jagged-up appearance.

  Raine

  30.

  When I woke up, the sky was spitting and flashing. I echoed its displeasure, especially since Gunn would be leaving today. Even so, I welcomed the morning, firestorm and all. At least whatever was going to happen today would happen already.

  I e-commed Cannon, though I held no hope that he’d respond. Sure enough, he didn’t. My nervous energy skyrocketed.

  Vi sat at the table, eating pancakes. I ordered my mandated breakfast (oatmeal, no brown sugar), but couldn’t force it down. At the front door we nodded to each other and separated.

  She was headed to Thane’s personal quarters, pretending to have a question for her father. We’d rehearsed her lines last night after the guys had left.

  I had authorization in most parts of Rise One, and my presence wouldn’t be questioned in the remaining areas. Instead, I went to the one place I’d rather never see again: school.

  The Education Rise held many secrets, and the list of things students are strictly forbidden to do could take hours to scroll through. If I could cause some mayhem here, EOs would be dispatched. And when their hoverboards failed to power on (as per the plan), the Administrator would call my father (I hoped).

  With my resolve as hard as tech filaments, I strode into the Rise. Small clusters of students funneled down the halls or gathered in common areas, whispering.

  I switched on my cache—against school policy—and chatted everyone. Four citations landed in my inbox before I made it to the end of the hall—and I was moving fast. Someone else could move faster, apparently. And it wasn’t the assistant.

  I even chatted Educators as I practically ran to the ascender bank near the coffee kiosks.

  Then I committed the dire act: I ascended to the mysterious Sixth Level. No one knew what was up here (not even me), because the entire floor had been prohibited since the dawn of time.

  A physical alarm pierced the air as soon as I materialized. I knew it was because of my unauthorized entrance into—

  a—

  laboratory.

  Three white-coated physicians paused in their work to stare at me. I could only gape back. A public transmission covered the shrieking siren. “All students return to ground level immediately.”

  I imagined the urgent footsteps on the second through fourth floors as everyone rushed to the descenders. But there’d be no pushing, no panic. Responsible Citizens don’t do things like that.

  I remained frozen in place, taking in as much as possible with quick sweeps of the room. Flat tables, like the one in lab seven, dominated the large room. Dangling tech connectors. Cabinets filled with sensors, medical tools, e-boards. Portlets broadcasted a stream from Rise One on the wall opposite me. Sterile air assaulted me. Bleached surfaces gleamed shiny and silver.

  Beyond the main room, three doors led into smaller cells. The lights were off in two of them. But in the third—

  I screamed. The sound went on and on and on, filling every crevice, every pocket in the lab. At some point during my tirade, the building siren had quit, and now the silence rang louder than the alarms.

  One physician approached me as the other two turned to look at the reason for my outburst. They immediately stepped together, their shoulders touching, so I couldn’t see past them.

  But it didn’t matter. I’d already seen Cannon.

  Restrained. Bleeding. Teched up.

  Without thinking, I took a swing at the now-standing-in-front-of-me-talking physician. I hit him hard, and pain exploded in my fingers and up into my arm. “Damn you!” I pushed him to the ground, my chest heaving.

  Rage I didn’t know I possessed drove me forward. I sprinted toward the two technicians, who wore expressions of shock terror. I snatched a taser from a counter as I ran and didn’t hesitate to use it.

  Seconds later I stood next to Cannon. Everything floated around me in s
low motion. Tech cords bit into his swollen wrists, making them weep blood. I tried to wipe it away so I could release him. The slickness of it made me sick. The smell of it forced me to close my eyes until the room stopped spinning.

  “Raine,” he croaked.

  “Shh.” I slashed at the tears coating my face. My breath shuddered in my chest, but I vowed not to fall apart. Somehow I managed to release his hands, and then I began on the tether across his chest.

  “We’re getting out of here,” I told him. “You’ll be fine. Just fine.” I kept talking, telling him how everything was going to be okay and that I’d take him back to my place. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to quell the rising fury inside. I feared that if I didn’t talk, I’d explode.

  Cannon wept, and that only angered me more. No one had the right to treat him this way.

  “Why are you here?” I asked him as I shouldered his weight. We hobbled into the main lab.

  “They’ve been bringing students up here for years,” he whispered. He trembled with each step; his breath tore through his throat in wet rasps. “They run tests on them.”

  My chest constricted. “What kind of tests?”

  “I don’t know exactly. But I’m part of a study. They’ve been reducing my food allotment for months, putting me under greater stressors in class, making my friendship with you …” He trailed off, his voice nothing more than wind.

  “Different,” I supplied, guilt twisting inside. If anything, I’d been helping them in their sick study.

  He gathered a breath and released it. “They’ve been testing how much I can endure.”

  “You’re almost dead.” I remembered how thin he’d seemed last week, how he’d been skipping meals, how he went straight to studying after school, how he hadn’t answered any of my e-comms.

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it.” He leaned against a table, completely winded. “They’ve been testing you too. Not here, but in lab seven.”

  I studied him, the cold realization impossible to swallow. “The drains.”

  Cannon coughed and wiped blood off his lips. “The drains.”

  Cash-my-name-is-Cash. Goose bumps erupted down my arms. “What about them?”

  “I don’t know, Raine. I don’t know.” He sounded so broken. “But I heard them talking about some sabotage in the Evolutionary Rise. Someone wouldn’t complete an experiment and actually destroyed the embryos.”

  I blinked. Behind my eyelids, I saw Cash’s name on the Alias list. Insubordinate sat next to it. I felt the pieces of my life shatter, taking all certainty with them.

  “Cash Whiting works in the Evolutionary Rise,” I said.

  “He used to work in the Evolutionary Rise.” Cannon coughed, gripping my shoulders painfully.

  Tears flowed down my face. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I heard something else when they thought I was unconscious.”

  I pulled him into a tight hug, furious and profoundly sad at the word “unconscious.”

  “Whoever sabotaged those embryos, they destroyed an army.” Cannon’s whispered words sent a chill through my bloodstream.

  “An army?” I repeated.

  “There’s a war coming,” Cannon said, all Seerlike.

  “Oh, no,” I moaned. What if Cash’s drain had just been to test my ability—my loyalty—in some sick way? What if the wild really did hold nothing but sickness and sand? What if my father was building an army?

  What if, what if, what if?

  I turned away from Cannon and threw up.

  Get it together, the assistant commanded. Your father is on his way up.

  “My dad,” I choked out, still tasting bile.

  “Won’t help us,” Cannon said in his freaky, prophetic tone.

  Before I could answer or take cover or anything, my father materialized in the lab. He took in the bodies on the floor before settling his sharp gaze on me. In a fluid movement, he raised his hand and held his palm toward me. Then he curled his fingers into a fist and pulled his arm to his body in a sharp, fluid movement.

  The air left my lungs; my insides felt as coiled and tight as his fingers. I dropped to my knees, darkness creeping in along the edges of my vision. Next to me, Cannon struggled for breath.

  “Naughty, naughty,” Dad taunted, looking down at me. “Don’t pass out now, Raine. I don’t want you to miss anything.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later I hadn’t missed anything. Not the absolute silence in the Education Rise. Not the total humiliation of Cannon as my father forced him to walk down the hall with blood dripping from his nose.

  Not the way Cannon held his shoulders with defiance, straight and strong, and stared down everyone who dared to glance his way. I tried to do the same, and failed.

  I didn’t miss the Educators stationed at every classroom door. Didn’t miss the syringes they held, ready to administer the drugs that would make everyone forget whatever they’d seen or heard this morning.

  I didn’t miss the lack of EOs. Didn’t miss the two dozen Confinement guards. If they were here, maybe Gunn had gotten away. My father didn’t miss the tiny curve sitting on my lips.

  I didn’t miss the urgency in Cannon’s grip as we held hands in the transport on the way to Rise One. Didn’t miss the raw panic in his eyes when my father’s physicians came and told him, “We’ll help you get cleaned up, son.”

  When they led him away, I missed him immediately. My sense of loss was so deep, I wondered what it meant and if it would ever go away. The days where we used to sneak in a nap at the Medical Rise felt like a different lifetime. I ached for those days, that friendship.

  Would I feel this empty tomorrow, with Gunn gone? I mean, he was leaving the entire city, not just going down the hall to get medical attention.

  And what did these feelings for Cannon mean, exactly? Can a person love someone without being in love with them?

  I didn’t know. But I hated myself for being so wrapped up in Gunn that I hadn’t seen my best friend’s need.

  “Sit, Raine.” My dad gestured to the couch in his office. I guess I did miss ascending to the nineteenth floor, where he lived and worked. At least it wasn’t the glass prison.

  He settled opposite me in a reclining ergonomic, his legs crossed and his fingers steepled under his chin. The ultimate Director, Dad could get inside someone’s head without even trying. I’d gotten good at folding everything up and hiding it from him. But today I couldn’t. All my innermost secrets lay bare for him to see.

  Except he wasn’t looking—yet.

  I glared at him; he simply gazed back. Not mad. Not upset. Not happy. Not anything. And that unnerved me enough to make me shift in my seat.

  The fidget brought a cruel twist to my father’s mouth, but he still didn’t speak. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to start.

  The air in the room sharpened. I kept breathing in, exhaling, breathing in, exhaling. The longer my father stayed here, the better it would be for Gunn and Jag.

  “I’d like to hear it from you,” Dad finally said, dropping his hands to his lap.

  “Hear what?” My throat felt caked with mud. Too narrow and too sloppy.

  “How you wound up on Level Six in the Education Rise.” His gaze flicked over my body and back to my face.

  I folded my arms across my jacket and clamped my mouth shut. If he wanted to hear it from me, he’d have to compel me to speak.

  Instead, he invaded my mind. I managed to keep the emotions about Gunn and the whole escape plan submerged, but I had to sacrifice Vi to do it.

  “You’re unbrainwashing her?” Dad had never sounded so incredulous, as if he’d never been surprised before.

  I didn’t answer. I squeezed my eyes shut against his penetrating mind control, desperate to keep him out, but not knowing how.

  “How did you do that?” he murmured, exploring my mind again. He dug deeper and deeper, peeling away layer after layer, trying to find the root of my motivation for defying o
rders, for helping Vi remember her past.

  I’d hidden the visions from Vi’s drain at the bottom of the pile. On top of that lay my participation with the Insiders. And then Gunn’s escape plans and my role therein. He couldn’t see any of those. If he did … I didn’t want to think about the consequences.

  Frigid air washed over my neck. I jerked my eyes open to find my father directly in front of me, kneeling on the floor. His razor eyes hooked me, held me fast. I shook my head and mouthed Stop, but he didn’t.

  He was going to see everything.

  Everything, everything, everything.

  My late-night flying sessions.

  My (forbidden) relationship with Gunner.

  The escape—

  A shrill (piercing, shrieking, wailing, blaring, ear-splitting) alarm rent the air—and the connection between me and my father.

  A moment later the public transmission system broadcasted this message: “The barrier has been breached. All Citizens have fifteen minutes to report to their homes and initiate lockdown procedures.”

  Dad stumbled backward, astonishment fury washing over his face.

  “The barrier has been breached. All Citizens have fifteen minutes to report to their homes and initiate lockdown procedures.”

  “This isn’t over!” he yelled over the siren.

  “The barrier has been breached. All Citizens have fifteen minutes to report to their homes and initiate lockdown procedures.”

  He scrambled into a personal teleporter and left. Twin clones watched me from their positions flanking the door.

  I relaxed into the couch, feeling the true weight of exhaustion. Then I opened my cache and focused my thoughts. The Director is on the move.

  The assistant didn’t respond.

  Gunner

  31.

  I ducked low on my board, driving it to go faster. The hoverboard track loomed ahead, the orange flags waving in the morning breeze. A dozen people rounded the curve toward me, and I threw a thanks to the assistant.

  I joined the flyers as they rounded the curve and headed north. I slowed my board to match their speed. They jostled around me until I was concealed in the center of the pack.