You went down there to get her, I think.
Did she make me forget?
We’ll talk about it later.
It’s a yes or no question, Wachalowski.
It’s not that simple. We’ll talk about it later, but for now, don’t say anything about it to anyone else.
What?
I mean it. You’ll attract the wrong kind of attention. Don’t talk about it.
What wrong kind of attention? What the hell is going on?
Look, what happened two years ago …it didn’t end then. The bombings, the attacks—they’re going to get worse. Powerful people are involved in this, and I don’t want you getting caught up in it.
And this thing you can’t get into, it involves revivors and Second Chance?
I have to go. Forget I said it. I turned to leave but she grabbed my coat.
I want in. Let me in. You can trust me.
I know.
Then trust me. I’ll sniff around.
I should have stopped her, but I didn’t. The truth was, though, that I needed all the help I could get, and even at the FBI, I wasn’t sure who I could count on.
I have to go.
She nodded, but I already didn’t like the look in her eye. I had a second opportunity to stop her, and I didn’t. Instead I waved good-bye and began to make my way back through the crowd.
Zoe Ott—Pleasantview Apartments, Apartment #713
I sat on my couch, waiting for the police to come knocking on my door. They were going to blame me for what happened at the hospital; I knew they were. Someone shot that woman, and as far as they knew, I was the only one there. I wasn’t, but they weren’t going to believe me. No one else saw the other guy or revivor or whatever it was. No one else saw it. They thought I did it. The cops were probably looking for me already.
I should have just stayed there. I didn’t have a gun; I couldn’t have done it. Now they’d think I just threw it away or hid it or something. Going right home was stupid; it was the first place they’d look. They were probably on their way over already and there I was, just waiting for it to happen.
If they did come, I’d send them away. I’d have to. I could just make them think I didn’t have anything to do with it, which I didn’t. It wouldn’t even be a lie. I’d tell them the truth. A revivor did it. It didn’t matter if they believed me. I’d make them believe me.
I wanted a drink. I couldn’t calm down, and I just really, really wanted a drink. The pills helped, but right then I didn’t care. My heart was still beating too fast and I tried to breathe slower, but I couldn’t.
I closed my eyes and squeezed my fists against them. My hands were shaking, and I was sweating. I wanted to scream. Maybe the drinking was killing me before, but I must have been happier than this. I never had to feel like I did almost every day now….
“They took the ship,” a voice said. I opened my eyes, and my apartment was gone. I was sitting on a metal floor, painted white. The room I was in was small, and it was dark except for an emergency light mounted on one wall.
There was a man sitting a few feet away. He had long, dirty hair and the start of a beard. His face was pale and his lips were chapped and peeling. His eyes were half shut. He looked like he could barely move.
“Who are you?” I asked him. Behind him, I could see more people huddled against the wall. They all looked like him, or worse.
“They took the ship,” he said again. His voice was hoarse. I watched as he lifted a glass jar off the floor and it shook in his hand, like he could barely lift it. Dark yellow liquid sloshed inside, and I realized it was urine. He put the jar to his chapped lips and drank.
I put my hand over my mouth, horrified. His eyes looked apologetic and ashamed.
“We can’t go out there,” he whispered, “We won’t make it. This way is better.”
Someone knocked on the door, and I jumped. When I turned, I was back in my apartment. The strange room was gone. The man with the urine was gone. The knock came again.
It was the police. They were here to get me. My heart started thumping as I got up off the couch and stood in the middle of the room, not moving.
“It’s not the cops,” a woman’s voice said from the other side. “Come on, open up!”
I headed over and opened the door. It was that woman, the one from the subway the other night. She had on the same wool hat and the same red poncho. Under one arm she had a big, flat cardboard box that was tied with a bow.
“Oh,” I said. “It’s you.”
“Penny,” she said.
“Sorry, I thought …I can’t get into it. I just …”
“The cops won’t come here,” she said. “Don’t worry. It’s taken care of.”
“Taken care of?”
“They thought about it and realized they made a mistake. Besides, the Feds stepped in and took over.”
“But they’ll—”
“They’ll be looking for the revivor, like they should be. You’re off the hook. Forget about it.”
The whole thing was weird, but I had to admit, it was a huge weight off my chest.
“You going to let me in?” she asked.
“Um, sure.”
I moved out of her way and she walked in, looking around my place. She didn’t look like she thought much of what she saw, but she didn’t say anything.
“How do you know where I live?” I asked. She shrugged.
“I know a lot about you.”
“Have you been following me?”
“A little.”
She said it like it wasn’t a big deal. Who was she? She stared up at me with her blue eyes that kind of reminded me of Nico’s, and I felt a little dizzy for a second.
The phone rang, and my heart jumped. Maybe it was him.
“Never mind that,” the woman said. “He’ll leave a message. I want to talk to you first.”
I got that dizzy feeling again. The phone rang a few more times; then the machine picked up.
“Zoe? It’s Nico. I’ve been trying to re—”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Ai sent me,” she said.
“Who?”
“Ai. I work for her.”
“…straightened it out with them. Just stay put for now. Call me as soon as you get …”
She talked to me like we knew each other, like we were old friends. She was like some robot friend in a box that got mailed to my doorstep. It was weird, but I didn’t feel funny about letting her in. Something told me I could trust her.
“No offense …”
“Penny.”
“No offense, Penny, but what do you want?”
“Ai wants to meet with you, and your friend Nico too.”
“Who’s Ai?” She pronounced it like the letter I.
“You’ll recognize her when you see her,” she said. “You’ve seen her before, sort of. She’s seen you too.”
“Who is she?”
“The most important person you’ll ever meet,” she said.
“Why does she want to meet with me?”
“You’re important too.”
“Yeah, right.”
There was another knock at the door, and I saw I’d left it just hanging open, which I never did. Karen was standing there in the doorway, looking from Penny to me.
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” I said. I started fumbling for how I was going to introduce the weird girl who’d just showed up and who I didn’t even know, but she introduced herself.
“I’m Penny,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. Karen smiled back and shook it.
“Karen.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Karen.”
“You too.”
She looked at both of us for a second.
“Are you two related?”
“No,” I said. “No, no. She’s …from work.”
“Oh, you work at the FBI?” Karen asked.
“No.”