Rogue (17 page)

Okay, it was jealousy.

“How did you get away with it, anyway?” she said even louder than before as they continued up the spiral staircase. She could at least be distracting. That was maybe her bes smayt, anyt talent of all. “I mean, you guys smashed a jellyfish tank. Isn’t that a felony?”

Uncle Mort and Skyla exchanged irritated yet resigned glances, as they were trapped on a spiral staircase with these kids and the only real way to dodge any questions would involve hurling themselves over the railing. Though judging by Uncle Mort’s face, he was giving it some serious consideration.

“We were acquitted,” he explained, “of all charges.”

“What? How?”

“Because only one of us took the blame.”

“The thing is,” Skyla jumped in, “the mission was a failure. The president considered it an act of terrorism, not a wake-up call. As soon as we four figured out which way the foul winds were blowing, we made a decision: Three of us would apologize for our crimes, citing brainwashing or Amnesia or whatever would get us off the hook, and thus remain in the Grimsphere so that we could continue to secretly take down the system from within.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was thicker. “And the other would confess everything, claim that they worked alone, and get the full brunt of the punishment—which turned out to be exile and a full memory wipe of everything having to do with the Grimsphere’s existence.”

Lex had inched up closer to the front of the pack; she could see that Skyla was struggling not to cry.

“The one whose face was covered in the photo,” Lex said, remembering. “That’s the one who took the fall?”

“Her name was Abby. The brains of the whole organization.” Uncle Mort’s footfall on the stairs seemed to get a little heavier. “Smashing the tank was all her idea. The rest of us were behind it, one hundred percent, but it was her baby. And when it all went bad, she decided that she had to be the one to take the fall.”

Lex considered this. Getting exiled and memory wiped was harrowing, but it sure was preferable to the Hole.

But she didn’t want to think about the Hole again, ever. “Okay, but that still doesn’t explain how you got elected, especially with such damaged reputations.”

“You know the expression ‘keep your friends close and your enemies even closer’?” Uncle Mort said. “Well, the president might as well have it tattooed across her forehead. After we all graduated to the Senior level, split up across the cities, and decided to run for office, she actually
encouraged
people to vote for us, gave all three of us her full endorsement. She knew we were planning something.”

Skyla grinned. “The woman isn’t completely stupid.”

“The problem is that the Grimsphere’s opinion is split,” Uncle Mort said. He was talking to Lex as an adult now; she liked when he did that. “There are some who have remained loyal to us mayors, who believe what we’re saying and agree that something needs to change. But they do so quietly, without attracting the wrath of people on the other side—like Norwood and Heloise and the president, who are more concerned with preserving their way of life than salvaging the life that comes after. But we happen to think our cause is important—because, you know, it’s
saving the goddamn Afterlife
and all—and so, yes, we are willing to take some drastic measures to accomplish our goal. And the president knows it.”

“Hang on,” said Driggs, who’d joined Lex up in the front and was trying to follow this just as intently as she was. “So the president
knows
we’re trying to destroy the portal?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Skyla. “She knows full well what we’re trying to do. She might even have told Norwood.”

“You sort of left that part out before,” Driggs said.

“But what they don’t know is how many allies we have around the Grimsphere, internationall snte

The Juniors gaped at one another. “I thought you said we
weren’t
going to kill the president!” Lex screeched.

Uncle Mort and Skyla rolled their eyes. “We’re not going to kill the president,” he said. “We’re just going to overthrow her.”

“But . . . won’t a lack of leadership cause even more problems?”

“Oh, there won’t be a lack,” Uncle Mort said as they reached a landing. “The Grimsphere government works a little differently than the American government. We don’t have vice presidents, but there’s still a line of succession. If the president becomes incapacitated or is rendered unable to fulfill the duties of the office, the presidency automatically goes to the runner-up candidate in the most recent presidential election.”

“And who is that?”

But he wasn’t listening to her. He was looking at the door they’d stopped at, and so was Skyla.

“Here’s our next stop,” she said, entering the code into the keypad. The light switched from red to green. “And where we part w
ays.”

“Oh, good,” said Elysia as the Juniors filed into the hallway behind Skyla. “So
this
is where we’re going to die.”

Lex could tell that Uncle Mort had no intention of answering her question. But as she followed the other Juniors inside, she kept her eyes on him, especially since he had such a funny look on his face. He was avoiding her gaze, even giving Pandora a smirk as she passed him, but Lex had seen that look many times before. The one that meant he was holding in a really, really big secret.

But his being next in line for the presidency may have been his biggest one yet.

Elysia worriedly grabbed Lex as they made their way down the long green hallway. Two doors were at the end of it—one labeled
HUB
, the other blank. “What are we supposed to do now?” Elysia asked. “Do you think they’ve found the unconscious guards yet?”

Skyla laughed. “Oh, hell no. When they find the guards and realize you’re loose in the building, you’ll know it.”

Elysia squeezed Lex’s arm tighter. “Yeah. The bullet through my heart will probably be a pretty good clue.”

“Here we are!” Skyla said, gesturing to a brightened wall. “Front row seats!”

As the Juniors got closer, they saw that the right-hand wall up ahead wasn’t a wall at all. It was a piece of rectangular glass that stretched about nine feet wide. The Juniors ran up to look through it, then ducked down.

“There are people down there!” Lex hissed. “They saw us! They looked right at us! They—why are you not panicking?” she asked as Skyla leaned over Lex’s crouched form and peered through the glass.

“It’s a one-way mirror,” Skyla explained. “They can’t see us, but we can see them.”

“Oh.”

Feeling dumb, Lex stood back up and looked through the glass at the hub below. Spread out across a space the size of a hockey arena was a sea of activity not unlike the one found on the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange. In one section, Ether Traffic Controllers sat at their Smacks and typed, but these people were nothing like the relatively quiet and studious employees in Croak and DeMyse; every one of the Necropolitan Etceteras was shouting instructions—at each other, at Field Grims about to go out on their shifts, and at the director, or the man Lex assumed to be the director. He was leaning against the front of his desk atop a raised vnte

Another area of the cavernous room was clearly the Field, where the Grims scythed in and out to their targets—but unlike the literal Field found in Croak, it was a maze of cubicles. Lex watched as pairs of Grims found their way into empty stalls, picked up phones to confirm their departures with the Etceteras, then swiped their scythes through the air and disappeared into the ether.

A glass room shrouded in spiderwebs had to be the Lair, and yet another space was reserved for the tunnels, of which there were several; and therefore, no single line of Grims waited to make their deposits. Each team returning from a shift simply chose one of the many available circles set into the wall, opened the little door, and sent the Vessels on their way to the Afterlife, the entrance to which was conspicuously missing.

“They go all the way to the top of the building?” Ferbus asked.

“Yep.” Skyla pointed at a series of pipes snaking their way up the wall and disappearing into the ceiling, like pneumatic tubes at a drive-through bank. “The citizens of Necropolis aren’t allowed anywhere
near
our vault to the Afterlife. Since it’s located in the president’s office, she’s the only one with access to it.”

“So you don’t have any Afterlife Relations people?” Elysia asked, baffled at how her former job wasn’t even a job here.

“We don’t need them,” Skyla replied. “We’re all Afterlife Relations people here.”

“How’s that, if you don’t have access to the vault?”

“Well—”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

An earsplitting alarm sounded as the hub became filled with a red warning light. The regular lights came back on a few seconds later, but were now punctuated by blasts of emergency strobes. The people on the floor jumped in surprise, then turned their eyes toward the flat screens, where President Knell’s face had appeared.

“Citizens of Necropolis,” she boomed, like the Evil Pantsuit Overlord that she was, “I may have been a bit . . . hasty with my earlier announcement. The outlaw Grims from Croak have indeed breached the walls of Necropolis as previously reported, but they are not currently in custody. Repeat: They are
not
in custody.” Lex could tell by the tightness of her mouth how pissed she was to have to admit that failure. “Necropolis is now on lockdown. No one comes in, no one goes out. I realize this may be an inconvenience to some of you, but trust me, this is for your own safety.”

Lex snorted. “She sounds just like Norwood.”

“Our best teams are on top of the situation,” Knell continued, “and are sweeping the building as we speak. But we need your eyes and ears as well; be sure to report any sightings, and we’ll keep you updated as much as we can. But sleep easy, Necropolis.” Here, she actually clicked her finger like a gun. “We’ll get ’em.”

“Nice touch,” Skyla muttered as the screen went back to the departure times. She turned back to the Croakers. “So this is it: You’re on your own.”

“Where will you go?” asked Pip.

“I need to get back to my control room. I lost a lot of valuable time when those nasty Croaker fugitives knocked me out.” She grinned, flashing her holey teeth. “Try and stick to the Backways. Remember, no one knows about them, and neither do I. Wink-wink.” She winked anyway. “But when you do have to go {do ls of Nec out into the open, make your routes as erratic as you can. I’ll do my best to play dumb, but the president has never fully trusted me, and she’ll catch on the second I show any hesitation. You
have
to stay one step ahead of me at all times.”

“While at the same time avoiding civilians because they’re obligated to report us on sight,” said Lex.

“Of course they are,” said Skyla. “Standard protocol.”

“How do you know so much about the protocol?” Lex all but growled. She certainly wasn’t making this easy for them.

“I wrote the protocol, kid.” She yanked a copy of the schematics out of her bag. “Now, take one last good look at these and memorize as much as you—”

“Wait, we can’t take them with us?” Elysia said.

“And risk the guards finding them in your possession if you get caught? Proving that you had help from me and ruining our operation in the process? I think not.” She went back to the blueprints. “Now. In each of the three sectors the guards will start at the bottom, search to its top, then continuously sweep back down and up again. My team, on the other hand, will be exclusively focused on tailing you. All the way up to the top, if everything goes to plan. You burst into the office, I burst in after you, and then . . . it’s portal-destroying time.”

Uncle Mort nodded. “Right.”

“So I’ll see you there,” she said simply, packing the schematics away. “Good luck, you guys.” She exchanged one last look with Uncle Mort, then headed out the door labeled
HUB
.

Lex looked back at the pandemonium below. Skyla had appeared in the room and was walking down a set of stairs, yelling for calm.

“This better all be worth it,” Lex muttered.

Of course, Uncle Mort overheard her. He always overheard her. “You don’t think saving the Afterlife is worth it?”

“Of course I do,” Lex said. “I just mean that I hope it works. Sealing the portals, then Annihilating Grotton—
if
we get the Wrong Book back, that is.” She sighed. “It’s a lot. A million things can go wrong. And let’s say we do everything right—the Afterlife erosion is halted, we fix it entirely with the reset—but then what? Who’s to say history won’t repeat itself one day? I mean, I’m not Damning anymore,” she affirmed, shooting a look at Driggs, “but in the future another Grim might come along who can. Isn’t it possible for someone to undo everything we’re doing to repair it? And then the Afterlife erosion will start all over again?”

Uncle Mort was quiet. “Well, it’s not likely,” he said. “But yes, it’s possible.”

“Well, then—” Lex grunted in frustration. “Isn’t there a way for us to fix everything permanently?”

He rubbed his chin. “I’ve been asking myself these questions for years, Lex. But as far as I can tell, no. There’s no way to fix it forever. There’s no way to prevent some bad-seed Grims from coming along down the line and committing a whole heap of new violations, trashing the Afterlife all over again. All we can do is fix it as best we can and hope that future generations don’t shit the bed as much as ours has.”

Lex grunted again. She hated feeling so helpless. “What about the Wrong Book?” she said. “Maybe there’s something in there that can help!”

“Well, I doubt it, but—” Uncle Mort looked intrigued for a moment, then shook his head. “We’re out of luck on that front until we get the book back from Norwood. Unless Bang already found something useful in it and didn’t tell us,” he said with a laugh, turning to look at her.

Bang didn’t look back. She was reading something—something that looked a lot like a handful of pa {haning to lpers with rough edges. As if they’d been ripped out of a book.