Exodia (28 page)

A small voice breaks the moment with a
cry of relief. The painful boils are shrinking and the people that
were infected first find the curse lessening.

I give Barrett the lowest of whispered
commands to go rescue Lydia. He moves away from me and slips off
his robe, hands it off to Mira, and integrates himself into the
cluster of capitol staff.

“
These people have two
minutes to leave the grounds,” Truslow shouts to his soldiers,
“then shoot them!” He pushes the Krona out of his way and lunges
back into the armored vehicle. I see him pat at his face, relieved,
no doubt, that his skin no longer stings.

I hear a Krona complain, “Why doesn’t
he just kill that kid?”

Another says quite softly, “You know
why. You read that page, didn’t you? He gave it to me to hide when
he was President of Defense. That page is why he lifted the
execution order on Dalton Battista as soon as he took office.
Truslow is afraid of him and quite rightfully so. It’s not
superstition, not when so many prophecies are coming
true.”

* * *

Lydia hid her face with her hands as if
she was recovering from the boils like every Blue. Jamie rested his
hand on her back and guided her up the steps. He glanced back to
see Barrett close behind and gave him an irritated nod. He’d been
happy that Lydia came to breakfast without her chaperon, but he
could see that Barrett was now going to stick to her like a fly on
a dead dog.

“
Did you notice anything
strange?” Jamie asked as they passed the threshold and headed back
to the dining room.

“
Other than these awful
sores?” Lydia lowered one hand. “Are they gone?”

Jamie bobbed his head. “I mean, they
only seemed to show up on Blues. I know which soldiers are Red–they
were fine. Maybe it was hypnosis or something.”

Lydia shrugged. “That old guy next to
Dalton Battista had purple blotches. He’s a Red. One of their
leaders, I think.”

Jamie drew his brows together. “I
didn’t notice that.” He thought for a moment more. “Well, maybe
this next threat will apply to Reds as well as Blues. Acid rain and
hail? Kind of hard to make it hail only on Blue homes. Impossible,
really. Especially in June.” He pulled out her chair for her and
they resumed their meal.

Jamie’s stepmother took her
seat on Lydia’s left. She mumbled apologies to Lydia as she wiped
away her tears. “I’m so sorry, dear. Dalton was such a nice boy. I
don’t understand why he’s doing this.” She turned her head and
mumbled under her breath. Lydia could barely make out the muttered
lament–something like
my little boy, why
does he hate me?
With a shiver Lydia
realized exactly who this woman was: Olivia Battista
Truslow.

* * *

When he finally had five minutes to
spare, the Executive President’s introduction to Lydia and her
chaperon was filmed by a capitol aide. It went smoothly, all
formalities were observed, and the ten-second video of the happy
couple receiving an executive handshake and a hug would be
displayed on the electrical billboards that still functioned. Lydia
looked sleek and feminine in an orange and red belted morning-gown
that Mrs. Truslow had brought to her room.

“
I feel a little rushed,”
Lydia said as Jamie led her away from his father’s office. Barrett
followed a healthy ten feet behind them. “Less than two days to get
ready.”

Jamie gestured at Barrett to stop and
stay back. He cornered Lydia into a door well and spoke softly,
“I’m sorry about the timing. It’s because of the law that takes
effect–they’re re-instituting a ton of marriage laws. I promise … I
promise that we’ll have time to get to know each other better
before, you know, before–” He leaned in for their first kiss and
didn’t feel her hand upon his chest until her nails bit through the
fabric.

“
Not here,” she whispered
back.

Jamie straightened to feel Barrett’s
hand on his shoulder. A smile, only half friendly, was plastered on
Barrett’s face.

“
Maybe you shouldn’t see the
bride again before the ceremony.”

“
I’d like to take her out
for a ride to the–”

Barrett cut him off. “Out? With that
warning of acid rain?”

“
Look. I know Dalton, okay?
He’s a good guy. He’s just, well, I don’t know what he’s up to, but
there’s not going to be any rain, or hail for that
matter.”

Barrett huffed. “And you’re so sure
because you didn’t see the bloody water? The rodents? The flies,
the fire ants, those painful sores? Don’t be stupid,
man.”

He had crossed a line and he knew it
immediately. Lydia grabbed his elbow and pushed him aside. “He
didn’t mean to say you’re stupid, Jamie. He’s just protecting me.
We can go for a ride, if you want.”

She gave Barrett a piercing look and he
took a couple of steps back. She tucked her arm into Jamie’s.
“Where did you want to go and what kind of vehicle would we go
in?”

“
Actually, no vehicle.
Horses. You’ll have to change.”

* * *

Barrett and Jamie stood outside Lydia’s
door. Barrett alternated between glaring at Jamie and presenting a
phony smile. They said nothing. Bear could hear voices from this
floor of the building as if his special gemfry hearing was as
accurate as tuning in a radio signal. He pinpointed the sounds from
inside Lydia’s room, noting the faint metallic clicks of a zipper
followed by Lydia’s whispered message just for him: “Bear, I’ve
never ridden a horse. I don’t know what to do. But I want to get
far away from here before the acid rain hits. So keep a look out
for shelter. Maybe we can get separated from him. Knock on my door
if you hear all this.”

Barrett stepped up to the door and gave
two quick knuckle taps. “Ready?”

The door swung open and Lydia stood
there wearing her own clothes, the ones she had worn under last
night’s blue silken dress. Jamie frowned. “My stepmother should
have picked something more, uh, never mind, you’re
fine.”

Jamie took her hand and led her down
the hallway and to the stairs. “I asked two soldiers, personal
friends, to lend us their horses. They should be right
outside.”

“
Only two? What about
Barrett?”

“
Oh, you don’t mind walking,
do you?” Jamie gave Barrett a victor’s smirk. “Or Lydia could ride
double with me.”

“
I can walk.” Barrett was
quick to answer. He doubted he’d have any trouble keeping up with a
horse. Speed was not an issue, but staying in disguise
was.

* * *

“
You’re doing great, Lydia.
Are you comfortable enough to try a canter?” Jamie glanced down at
Barrett. “You can stay here. We’ll canter the horses to that old
building and back.”

Lydia eyed the distance. It was a long
ways off. She was about to agree when a drop of rain, the predicted
acidic rain, scorched her mount’s rear. The animal took off running
and Lydia hung on as well as she could. Jamie urged his horse to
follow. More rain drops began to pelt the horses and riders. The
stinging pains were no more than pinpricks at first and then the
hail began.

They passed the old building at a full
gallop. Jamie expertly brought his horse back under control and
edged as close to Lydia as he dared. “Pull back! Pull back on the
reins!” He shouted whoa over and over and reached out to grab her
reins just as a ball of hail the size of a rock hit the back of his
hand and another one hit him hard on his head. He slumped over his
horse’s neck and almost fell off.

Barrett had no problem keeping up with
the racing horses. He had spotted the perfect cover for them. He
ran up on the other side of Lydia’s horse and took hold of the
leather, slowing both their gaits down and leading the horse to an
underpass.

“
Whoa. Easy.”

When Lydia was safe he started
hollering at Jamie. “Over here.”

An unbelievably large chunk of ice hit
Jamie’s horse in the head and the horse buckled and fell. Jamie
rolled off, threw his arms over his head for protection and
sprinted to the underpass, leaping over nearly boulder-sized hail
in the process.

Lydia dismounted and dropped the reins.
She fell into an awkward embrace with Barrett, breathing thanks
into his ear. Jamie reached them and fell to his knees. Blood
dripped down his arms; a gash on his forehead sent more blood
dripping down his face.

“
Are you all
right?”

“
I’ll be fine,” Jamie
answered. He lifted his eyes and wiped at his face, smearing blood.
He eyed Barrett, a troublesome suspicion adding to his
headache.

“
Look at your horse,” Lydia
cried.

The poor thing was lying still. Large
chunks of hail hit then rolled off the corpse and piled up in a
gruesome outline around the body. Lydia’s horse
nickered.

* * *

The western edge of Exodia stands
rimmed by hills too steep to build or farm though I can imagine
someone walking serenely behind a flock of sheep here. Crazy
thoughts, especially when I picture Lydia instead of
Kassandra.

Harmon and I came here after we
collected the third and fourth machines he brought from Ronel. This
apparatus seems almost futuristic, a weather weapon that seeds the
clouds and turns our predicted spate of hailstones to fruition.
Harmon tells me there are greater wonders than this in Ronel’s
camp.

We watch as the second finger-sized
rocket races to the sky, bursts through the clouds and disappears.
There’s low thunder, but Harmon doesn’t react and so I guess it’s a
rumbling only audible to me. And to Barrett.

I trust him to keep Lydia safe inside
the capitol. I try very hard not to think of Jamie. I used to know
him pretty well and because of that I’m anxious for Lydia. These
pangs of jealousy are peppered with guilt as well. If I can leave
Exodia with Lydia there’s something I’ll confess to her.

Harmon nudges me. “Look.”

I see where he’s pointing. A wave of
devastation surges over the city, pounding down those who didn’t
heed the warnings. Truslow may have refused to alert the city, but
Reds have worked out a way of signaling one another. Blue friends
would’ve heard. Should’ve stayed inside.

I listen. Screams and shouts pierce my
heart. “Do you hear that?” I look to Harmon and he shakes his
head.

A century old cell tower
topples and sends a quaking boom to our ears. “Wow, I heard
that
.” Harmon only hears
the loudest of earth’s complaints against the hailstones. He
readies another of the small rockets, but I stop him.

“
No, that’s enough,” I say.
“Truslow should get the message. But just in case he balks again
let’s set up that last piece of equipment.”

* * *

The frozen hazards have melted by the
time we reach the capitol building. People are venturing out into
the streets again, dragging bodies away, tending to the injured,
fixing roofs, staring at the damage. Not too many Reds surround us
for support. No matter.

We make our demand at the gate to see
the Executive President. They tell us no. Both the guards are Reds
and they warn us of an arrest warrant for Bram O’Shea. I
laugh.

And then I choke on my laughter as I
see the strangest sight: Lydia and Barrett leading a horse. The
rider is holding an arm over his eyes. It’s Jamie.

The guards rush over, let them through.
Lydia and Barrett keep their lips tight, trying not to look at
Harmon and me as if we’re a nuisance–scum, dirty Reds. They are
good actors.

And so am I. “Jamie, are you all
right?”

He eyes me, seems surprised that I’d
speak to him.

“
Dalton. Your little trick
killed my horse, nearly killed me.”

Selfish. It’s what he doesn’t say that
angers me.

Harmon riles, too, and speaks for me,
“You knew. You heard the warning. Why would you take her outside
with the threat of deadly hail?”

“
Guards, bring them inside.
My father has a banishment order already signed. And grab that
stick from him before he turns the ground into fire ants
again.”

I hand the rod over with a grunt.
Harmon twisted the end off before we left the hillside where the
last machine sits primed and ready. The detonator dangles from his
belt sack’s cord as if it’s a tassel decoration.

Barrett ties the horse up to a sign
post and takes Lydia’s arm. I hope they plan on running, but Jamie
squashes that idea by taking her other arm and jerking her toward
the door. There’s something in his eyes I can’t
decipher.

The guards are rough with us. More
acting. The one who carries the rod pokes at my back and Harmon’s,
too, as we reach the entrance. I sense Harmon ready to
react.

We’re hustled inside where another
soldier, a Blue one, stands at attention and Jamie, sounding too
much like his father, gives him orders–orders to aim his weapon at
Lydia.

“
So, Dalton, what little
trick are you planning next?”

I hesitate, keep my eyes from
flickering to Lydia and finally say, “Lights out.”