Locked tight, p.20
Locked Tight, page 20
Her expression bunches up and fresh tears ebb down her cheeks. She doesn’t bother to wipe them. “He would have been proud of this,” she says softly. “Of you.” Then she turns away, and the crowd edges out of her path back to the room with Julian’s body.
She closes the door behind her.
All the breath has gone out of me.
I lean forward and scrub my face. Then I struggle out of my chair and head for Livvy’s room. My body and mind are buzzing from the fatigue and the high of saving all those people, but a dark dread clenches down on my chest until I get to Livvy’s small body, still sprawled out on the examination table, right where I left her.
Her chest rises and falls.
She’s alive. Not that she was in any danger. She was simply surrounded by an entire town of jackers who would probably like to see her dead. For-real dead, not for-the-camera dead.
Footsteps scuff the floor behind me. I tense, ready to defend why Livvy’s not responsible for what she did, but when I turn… it’s just Tessa.
I blink, and my mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Oh, Zeph.” She crosses the half dozen feet in a rush and throws her arms around my waist, hugging me hard. She backs off before I can even hug her back. With a scrunched up expression for Livvy’s body behind me, she says, “Who is this girl?”
“My sister.” My throat is raw, so I cough, but it helps me choke back the surge of emotion those words conjure up.
“Is she…”
“No, she’s alive,” I say with a strained smile. “I had to knock her out to stop…” I really can’t say the rest.
Tessa nods. “What’s wrong with her?”
That stabs me right through the chest. “Nothing I can’t fix. I hope.”
She nods more solemnly this time, and I wonder what on earth she must think, after watching me resurrect sixteen people. I’m not sure I know what I mean. I don’t know what it will take to fix the damage Wright’s done to my sister, but I’m determined to try.
Suddenly, people are filing in through the door. Anna comes first, her face blank in a mask I realize with a jolt must cover grief. Because her name is Anna Navarro, and she’s Julian’s sister. Hinckley is at her side. Behind them is an older woman, the one I met on the way into the clinic the first time—Kira’s mother. They’re all wearing their grief in different ways, but it’s a shroud over the room.
“I need you to watch over my sister,” I say to all of them. “And I need to know right now if that’s a problem. If Livvy is truly safe here, or if I have to take her with me.”
There’s a moment of silence, long enough that I tense for the possibility of fighting my way out, but then Anna speaks up, “She’s safe with us. Where are you going?”
“I have something I need to do,” I hedge. Then I catch the agonized expression on Tessa’s face. I can’t tell if she’s worried for me or for Livvy or just for the general fractured state of the world that all of this has wrought. She’s a mindreader in the heart of Jackertown. If she had any sense, she’d be terrified for herself.
But that’s not Tessa.
She’s the one who runs straight toward the wreckage of a bombing, not away.
She’s the one I need to give an explanation.
“I’ll take care of Livvy when I get back,” I say softly to her. Then I raise my voice to address everyone else—Anna, Hinckley, Kira’s mom, and the gathering onlookers in the hall outside. “But no one can know she’s alive. As far as anyone asks, my sister died on the streets of Jackertown today, a jacker gone demens who had to be taken down for the safety of everyone.” Then I lower my voice again, speaking just for Tessa, although I really don’t care who else hears. My life is already in these people’s hands. “I have to leave right now to keep up the pretense. I need to go back to the people who orchestrated this. They have my family, Tess. The only way Livvy will be safe from them is if they think she’s dead. And the only way I’ll get my mom and dad back is if I go work for them again.”
She frowns. “You were working for them before?”
How can I possibly explain everything? I can’t. So I simply say, “Yes.”
She frowns harder. “Because they had your sister?”
Relief rushes through me. “Yes.”
She nods. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
The surge of emotion that brings up destroys any words I might have. Instead, I bring Tessa in for a brief hug, the drive-by kind she gave me before, just to say the thanks I can’t get past my closed-up throat. Then I work my way through the tightly-packed room, and then the hall, and then the clinic to the now-empty street outside.
I set my face into a mask of grief and rage for the camera drone hovering nearby.
Only it’s no mask.
I have one more thing I need to do.
We need to meet, I scrit to Wright.
It takes a long five minutes before she replies with the coordinates for an ancient forest preserve near the suburbs. It’s just inside the no man’s land where the demens used to roam, a part of the city normal readers seldom visit. A good place to kill me, if that’s what she’s thinking.
I have no idea what she’s thinking.
When the autocab delivers me to the coordinates, only Wright and Major John Scott are there. It’s an empty field, not even a pullout from the drive through the forest preserve. There’s a small swamp behind them, then an endless thicket of trees. This will either work perfectly for me or be the world’s shortest confrontation when Scott whips out his gun and shoots me then dumps me in the swamp. Or Wright might do it. They’re both armed, but only Wright has a helmet.
A prototype helmet.
I stalk toward them. I have a gun, too, but if I have to shoot my way out of this, I’m unlikely to be the one walking away. Once I’m in shouting distance—and easy shooting distance for someone like Scott—I demand, angrily, “What did you do to my sister?”
Wright waits until I stomp through the weeds to get closer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“She’s dead!” I put all my anger into that, and man, am I pissed. For real. “She went nuts in Jackertown, and they killed her. So, I’m giving you one chance to answer me, Wright—what did you do to her? And tell me why I shouldn’t kill you for it.” I’m not a killer. In all the horrible things I’ve done, it’s never been me who wanted anyone to die. But for Wright, I would make an exception.
With the icy look on her face, I’m sure she knows it. “Tread carefully, Mr. MacCay—”
“Or what?” I stop, a dozen feet from the two of them, my hands clenched at my sides.
Her eyes are fixed on me. “Or you’ll never see your mother and father again.”
I let my shoulders sag. I paint a picture of defeat on my face, but it’s really relief. I thought I’d have to bargain that out of her, but she offered it up all on her own. “You have them, don’t you? Prisoners in a cage somewhere. Probably one with bars, since you can’t manipulate them like you did my little sister!” I sincerely hope my parents aren’t collaborating with Wright. I’m not sure if I could take that.
“Your sister went rogue. There was nothing I could do about that.” Wright is lying straight to my face.
I glare at her. “You turned her into a monster,” I throw back.
Wright shrugs. “All jackers are monsters, Zeph. I’m surprised you of all people haven’t realized that by now.” Her icy tone infuriates me, but I keep that mostly under wraps.
I flick a look to Scott. “What does that make you? Half monster?”
“I’m just following orders, kid.” But he holds my gaze a moment longer than he has to, searching my eyes. I left his mindmap in its usual rock-hard-mindbarrier configuration, so I can’t link into his head to see what he’s thinking. But he must know. That Livvy’s still alive. Because that’s what he sent me to do, and I’m not raging at Wright about how she sent Livvy to Jackertown. I’m not blowing his cover, so he won’t blow mine.
It’s just a glance, but we have an understanding.
“Whatever,” I snarl at Scott. Then I turn back to Wright. “Where are my parents, and what do I have to do to get them out of your demented jacker program before they lose their minds like Livvy?”
Wright narrows her eyes. “I know you stopped her, Zeph.”
I jerk like I’m shocked, and I am. “I didn’t have a choice,” I say, but I can’t believe she actually thinks I killed my own sister. In what world does this woman exist? And who are the monsters who live there?
She nods. “What I don’t know is how you did it.”
“Is that it? You want me to be your lab monkey?” I was banking on this. And now that I’m ahead of the curve a little—I reformed people’s minds today—the only trick will be staying ahead of Wright until I can find out what she’s done with my parents.
“Something like that.” Her gray eyes are glittering. I honestly don’t know how she sleeps at night. “SecDef will be very interested to learn more about what you can do.”
I frown. “SecDef?” What on earth is she talking about now?
“The Secretary of Defense,” Scott says with a small smirk. “Look out, kid. The top brass are interested in you now.”
I try to keep my reaction calm, but I hear the warning in Scott’s voice. “Okay, I’ll be your dog-and-pony show. But I want to see my parents. I want to know they’re okay.”
Wright gives me another steely look. “We’ll be in touch.” It’s a dismissal.
I glare at her. I was hoping to walk away with something real, but apparently, no.
Wright lifts her chin to Scott. “Scrub his phone. And give him your number. You’ll be his handler from here on out.”
Scott tips his head and stalks through the grass toward me. When he gets close, he puts out his hand for my phone and beckons it with his fingers. I give it over. He fusses with it for a while. Wright is already on her own phone, doing something.
Scott hands my phone back, then clamps a heavy hand on my shoulder, giving it an almost painful squeeze. “Try to stay out of trouble. We’ll be in contact soon.”
I glare at him, but he just pivots back to tromp through the grass to Wright.
I turn my back on both of them, heading for the road and hailing an autocab with my phone. Once I tap out of there, I check the rest of my addresses. Sure enough, any records of Shadow are gone. And there’s a new entry: Wolf.
There’s a single scrit. Wiped your tracker. Watch your step.
My tracker?
The autocab rolls up—it must be the same one I just sent away—and as I climb in, I realize Scott has covered his own tracks. And mine. All Wright had to do was check my tracker, and she would have seen that between the assassination of Julian Navarro and the “killing” of my sister, I paid a visit to the US Army Reserve… where one Major John Scott was clearing out my sister’s gear.
That tracker would have doomed us both.
And Scott took care of it.
As the forest whisks by my window, I have a small glimmer of hope.
I’m watching Livvy sleep and trying to figure out how the world went so wrong.
She’s actually sleeping now, tucked in my bed at Aaliyah’s Home, not just rendered unconscious by my hard jack on the streets of Jackertown. Anna gave her a sedative that should last for several more hours. I brought Livvy here via autocab, and I’m honestly dreading when she wakes up. Man, is she going to be mad at me. Plus, I have to tell her she’s dead to the world.
How do you explain that to a thirteen-year-old kid?
I’m perched at the end of the bed, legs folded, but there’s only so long I can stare at her and worry before I need some kind of distraction. I haul out my phone and skim the tru-casts. Her death is literally on every one. Between the assassination and her attack, it’s like the world has come unglued. I want to shield her from it all when she wakes up, but that’s not going to be possible.
Neither one of us can go back to how things were before.
But, apparently, the world believes the story they saw with their own two eyes about the two orphan kids in Jackertown. The jacker girl—Livvy—goes berserk, killing people right and left, then gets cut down by her own kind. Meanwhile, her reader brother—that’s me, the hero from a previous attack on innocent readers at the Free Thinkers march—carries off her dead body, mourning for all the world to see.
Tiller bought it. He scrit me soon after, concerned for my mental state.
He gave me the day off.
I give a laugh so bitter it makes my mouth ache.
But the rest of the world believed it, too—except Wright, who can’t wait to exploit my talents as an extreme jacker killer. One who’s willing to kill his own family under the right circumstances.
Livvy gives a small murmur in her sleep.
If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I’m not that kind of jacker. After all I’ve been forced to do, all the horrible situations I’ve been in—including the kind I tried and failed to save Livvy from—it’s strangely reassuring to at least know that much.
To know who I am. And who I’m not.
A soft knock sounds at my door. I reach out mentally, and a familiar apple-crisp mindscent is waiting outside my door.
I link into Jiaying’s mind. Come on in.
The door creaks open, and she stands on the threshold with a tray of two steaming mugs. Aaliyah said to bring you some tea. She flicks a look at Livvy asleep next to me on the bed and waits for me to tell her it’s okay to come in.
Thanks, I link with real gratitude for the distraction. I beckon her with a wave of my hand.
She sets the tray on a small end table by Livvy’s pillow. I set my phone, with its tru-casts of killer-Livvy on an endless loop, face down on the bed. Jiaying hands me one of the mugs of tea.
Peppermint, she thinks. My grandmother would not approve. She would say this is medicine, and the only good tea is green tea.
I try, but I can’t quite force a smile on my face.
Jiaying frowns and gives a pained glance at my sleeping sister. I’m so sorry, Zeph. She looks back to me. Aaliyah explained what really happened. I know your sister wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.
I’m surprised enough that I can’t keep it off my face. I’m one big, raw nerve to begin with, but all Aaliyah knows is that she was set loose on Jackertown—the same as anyone watching the tru-casts, except that she knows my sister has been missing for a year and a half. She apparently drew her own conclusion. Or maybe Hinckley told her what happened, but even he doesn’t really know the truth.
But even more surprising is that Jiaying accepts all this. She obviously still thinks I’m a reader—a reader with a crazy jacker sister who tried to kill a bunch of people—yet she’s here, bringing us tea and not blaming Olivia for what she’s done.
My sister’s a good kid, is the only coherent thought I can link into Jiaying’s mind.
She nods like this is a given. And you went after her to save her. Like you did me. And those other people, the Free Thinkers.
Right. I’m a hero. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone, I manage to link. It still feels like a miracle that I could fix the minds Livvy shorted out. And I’m feeling the depth of what Julian said before, about how you can’t discover what you can do unless you’re willing to face what you’re capable of.
I know you didn’t. Jiaying frowns again. She eases up to Livvy and brushes back a stray hair that had bunched up and was falling across my sister’s face. She’s so young. Whoever did this to her is a monster. She looks back to me. They should be held to account.
I nod but drop my gaze. Vengeance on Wright has to take a backseat to finding and freeing my parents. But someday…
I’ll let you rest. Jiaying’s thoughts are filled with concern for me, but by the time I look up, she’s already slipping out the door.
I’m alone again with the quiet sounds of my sister sleeping.
I pick up my phone. The tru-cast has switched to an interview with a guy who has the kind of dead eyes I’ve seen before, most recently on Wright’s face. He’s a reader, so the boom mic is picking up his thought waves along with the interviewer’s, just like normal. The words scroll along the bottom of the screen in blazing red font.
No, that guy Jackson isn’t one of us, the man is thinking with a slight smirk on his face. He’s totally acting on his own. The words below identify him as Robert Smith of the Readers’ First Front. Why do they even have people like this on a tru-cast, giving him a place to spout his bigotry?
Well, Jackson Harper is now in police custody for the assassination of Julian Navarro, the interviewer thinks. She’s a tall blonde, and she towers over this Robert Smith person. A truth magistrate should be able to learn the facts soon enough.
Yeah, if you can trust it, the Fronter thinks with a snort. The jackers probably tore his mind to shreds before they let him go.
I wince because that could well be true.
But make no mistake, the Fronter continues. A species war is coming one way or another.
Your group keeps saying that, the reporter responds. And your darknet page claims your membership is growing exponentially.
People aren’t fools. His smile fades away, and the hard glitter of his dark eyes shines through even on the tru-cast. They see what’s happening. The jackers are popping up all over. In our towns, our schools, even in our families. It’s time for readers to realize they have to preserve their own identity by not mixing it up with these dangerous aliens.
By aliens you mean… The reporter seems amused. Like she’s baiting him or something.
I mean aliens. I’m not saying they come from outer space, although who knows. I’m saying they’re not our kind. I’m saying they’re coming here, and they’re taking over, and if we don’t wake up soon, it will be nothing but wall-to-wall jackers with readers as slaves. Mark my words.
But aren’t there plenty of situations where a family member turns, and things have worked out just fine? the reporter asks.
Again, I grimace, because I want that to be true like nothing else… and yet, my family has been torn apart by the world of jackers and readers and the conflict between them.
