Don’t think about seeing Mom and Dad die. Why did I beg to go to the market with them?
Don’t think about Blaze alone in the alley in Freedom. How could I have sent him on that mission?
Don’t think about enduring the endless flames of that dark capsule.
I shuddered, hot dread settling in my stomach. I would never feel a release from that heat. Never find a way to tell Vi about it.
Stop, I told myself in my most commanding voice. I definitely couldn’t think about where I’d been while Vi was in Freedom. It was why I hadn’t slept well in weeks.
Every time I shut my eyes, I was transported inside that capsule again. So I didn’t sleep very much.
I aimed my board toward the ground at a way-too-steep angle. The Enforcement Officers coming my way didn’t slow or change direction. And why would they? They didn’t have independent thought. They’d been told to take me out, and they wouldn’t stop until they did.
I didn’t want to draw further attention to myself, so I buried my voice and pulled my hood over my head. I could take these guys with just a hoverboard.
I wove through them, bumping off a body here and a helmet there. They couldn’t change direction as fast as I could, and I’d swooped past them before they realized I was even there.
Rise One loomed in front of me, but I cut a wide arc to the north, setting my sights on Rise Twelve. I wondered who was in charge now that Thane was gone. I wondered how much damage he’d done to the system I’d established years ago.
Could I have asked Zenn? Sure, but I didn’t trust him the way I used to.
Could I have asked Indy? Maybe if she wasn’t so busy punching my lights out.
I’d never trusted Thane as Director of Rise Twelve. Everything he’d done since I met him screamed Informant!
Then when I became the leader of the Resistance—and my brother Blaze died in the alley so close to Rise Twelve—I wasn’t sure I could ever believe Thane again.
Yet here I was, risking everything to save him.
I told myself it was because he held Resistance secrets the Association couldn’t have. With a determination I hadn’t felt in a long time, I descended to the roof of Rise Twelve.
I had exactly two seconds to breathe and only one foot on the ground when a group of people leapt up from behind a flower bed.
“Who are you?”
“What do you want?”
“Kick the board over here.”
I flipped my hood down. “Relax. I’m Jag Barque,” I said in my most authoritative voice.
They all stopped talking. One guy actually relaxed against a bench.
A girl a few years older than me recovered first. “That’s some voice you’ve got there.” She spoke in a cool tone that gave nothing away.
I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m Jag Barque.”
“The Jag Barque?” she asked. “Prove it.”
She wanted me to prove it? “Jump up on the wall there,” I said, and every person within hearing distance hopped onto the shallow wall that edged the roof. “Walk toward me.”
Their mechanical movements made me wince. “Okay, okay. Get down.”
They thumped to the safety of the roof. Slowly they came to their senses, watching me with curiosity burning in their eyes.
“I’m Jag Barque,” I repeated. “Leader of the Resistance. Do you need additional proof?”
“No,” the girl said, exchanging a nervous glance with the man next to her. She stepped forward. “I’m River.”
“What’s the status here?” I asked. “Who’s in charge of Twelve?”
“My father, Mason Isaacs, with Starr Messenger as his second.”
I frowned. “Thane said Starr would be in charge if something happened to him.”
“She’s still a student,” River said. “Director Hightower appointed my father when Assistant Director Myers went missing. Starr is still second.”
I knew the Isaacs family. Blaze had smuggled them out of Northepointe several months before he’d died. “Is your dad around?”
“He’s at Rise One with the other building Directors. Word is there’s a threat to Associational security.” River gave me the up-down. A slow smile stretched across her face. “I guess they were right.”
“I have friends out there. What’s the word on your safe houses?”
Before she could answer, an explosion tilted the sky. I fell to my knees, my arms automatically covering my head.
As I regained my feet, River moved to the edge of the roof and faced north. “That was our last hideout,” she said. “I hope your friends weren’t heading to Block Twenty-Four.”
Somehow I thought that’s exactly where they’d be going.
“Send a rescue team,” I said, joining her at the wall. I gripped the edge until my finger bones hurt.
I couldn’t lose Vi. Not in an explosion I hadn’t seen coming. Not in the dead of night while I lingered on a rooftop and couldn’t help.
“Who should we be looking for out there?” River asked. I got the impression it wasn’t the first time. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the plume of smoke spreading into the sky.
“Jag, who—”
“Violet Schoenfeld,” I said. “Or Zenn Bower. Or Gunner Jameson.”
“If they were in that building—”
“Go,” I said. “Just go.”
Zenn
8.
Block Twenty-Four had been compromised. The four of us stood on the fringes, staring at the smoke still wafting from the hideout.
One look at Gunner, and I knew not everyone had made it out. “What can you feel?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t as bad as the smell of ash and plastic and wet, hot metal. I wondered if Trek had been inside. Or Starr. I swallowed hard.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Too much.”
“We’ll wait here,” Saffediene declared. “We’re not that far from Rise Twelve, and the danger seems to have dissipated for now.”
My arms felt dissipated from my body. My legs too. My head. All of it—the EOs swarming in the streets, the spyware in the silver paint, the alarm, the darkness, the destruction of the Insider hideout—was just too much.
“We can’t wait here,” Vi said, glancing around. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
I snapped back to attention. “What doesn’t feel right?”
She and Gunn turned. Vi cried out in surprise; Gunn shouted. I spun around and immediately raised both hands in a placating gesture.
A handful of people stood in front of us, their clothes nonstandard, their eyes watchful. One held a taser, obviously an older model he’d scrounged from somewhere—or taken off a dead body. The other four wielded “weapons” of rubbish bin lids or pieces of the blown-up building, as if we were the ones responsible for the detonation of their hideout.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, my voice power employing without a second thought.
“Calm down,” Gunn said, his voice on high too. “We’re friends here.”
The people exchanged glances. “Who are you?” a man asked.
“I’m Zenn Bower,” I said. “And this is Saffediene, and . . .” Could I give Vi’s name?
“Violet,” Vi said, making the choice for me. “I’m Violet Schoenfeld.”
Weapons were lowered and glances exchanged. “It’s them.” The one with the taser stowed it in his jacket pocket.
“Them?” I asked.
“How do you know who we are?” Saffediene asked, showing her strength by speaking without so much as a waver in her voice.
“Jag sent us,” the man said. “I’m Newton.” He named the others, but I got hung up on River Isaacs.
“River,” I said. “I know you. How do I know you?” I studied her tangle of brown hair. Her nose sat too small in the middle of her face. Her eyes, round and alive, reminded me of someone. She had a few years on me, but I had to look down on her. She carried strength in her body, and I knew she was no lightweight.