Prodigy (27 page)

I gape at it. After seeing the lights of the Colonies’ skyscrapers, it’s shocking
to know that a building like this exists over here. I’ve seen abandoned
Republic
complexes that look better than this. The windows and corridors are squeezed so closely
together that no light could possibly get down to the bottom. I peer inside one of
the black entrances.

Darkness, nothing. The sound of dripping water and faint footsteps echoes from inside.
Now and then, I see a flickering light go by, as if someone’s in there with a lantern.
I peer up at the higher floors. Most of the windows are cracked and shattered, or
missing altogether. Some of them have plastic taped across the opening. Old pots on
the balconies catch dripping water, and several have lines of tattered clothing hanging
off the ledges. There must be people living in there. But the thought makes me shiver.
I look back once at the glittering skyscrapers on the block right behind us, then
forward at this rotting cement structure.

A commotion at the end of the street catches our attention. I tear my eyes away from
the compound. A block down, there’s a middle-aged woman in men’s boots and a shabby
coat pleading at the top of her lungs with a pair of men dressed in heavy plastic
gear. Both have clear visors covering their faces and large, wide-brimmed hats on
their heads.

“Watch,” Kaede whispers. Then she drags us into one of the dark entrances between
two doors on the compound’s ground level. We lean our heads slightly so that we can
hear what’s going on. Even though they’re fairly far away, the woman’s voice carries
clearly across the quiet, icy air.

“—just missed one payment this year,” the woman’s saying. “I can run to the bank first
thing in the morning and give you as many Notes as I have—”

One of the men interrupts her. “DesCon policy, ma’am. We cannot investigate crimes
for customers who have been delinquent on payments to their local police.”

The woman is in tears, wringing her hands so hard that I feel like she’s going to
rub her skin right off. “There must be something you can do,” she says. “Something
I can give you or another police department I—”

The second man shakes his head. “All police departments share DesCon’s policy. Who’s
your employer?”

“Cloud Corp,” the woman says hopefully. As if this info might persuade them to help
her.

“Cloud Corp discourages its workers from being out past eleven
P.M
.” He nods up at the compound. “If you don’t return to your home, DesCon Corp will
report you to Cloud and you might lose your job.”

“But they’ve stolen everything I have!” The woman breaks into loud sobs. “My door
is completely—completely bashed in—all of my food and clothes are gone. The men who
did it live on my floor—if you please come with me, you can catch them—I know which
apartment they live in—”

The two men have already started walking away. The woman scampers behind them, begging
for help, even as they keep ignoring her.

“But my home—if you don’t do something—how will I—” she keeps saying. The men repeat
their warnings to report her.

After they’re gone, I turn back to Kaede. “What was that?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Kaede replies sarcastically as we step out from the building’s
darkness and back into the street.

We’re quiet. Finally, Kaede says, “The working class gets shafted everywhere, don’t
they? My point is this: The Colonies are better than the Republic in some ways. But
believe it or not, the reverse is also true. No such thing as the stupid utopia you’ve
been fantasizing about, Day. Doesn’t exist. There was no point trying to tell you
that before. It’s just something you had to see for yourself.”

We start heading back to the hospital. Two more Colonies soldiers hurry past us, neither
of them bothering to take us in. A million thoughts whirl through my head. My father
must never have set foot inside the Colonies—or if he did, he only skimmed the surface
of it, the way June and I had when we first arrived. A lump rises in my throat.

“Do you trust Anden?” I say after a moment. “Is he worth saving? Is the
Republic
worth saving?”

Kaede makes several more turns. Finally, she stops next to a shop with miniature screens
in its window, each one broadcasting different Colonies programming. Kaede guides
us into the store’s tiny side street, where the darkness of the night swallows us.
She pauses to motion at the broadcasting screens inside the store. I remember passing
a shop like this on our way into the city. “The Colonies always show news snatched
from Republic airwaves,” she says. “They have a whole channel for it. This news bite
has been on repeat ever since the failed assassination.”

My eyes wander over to the headlines on the monitor. At first I just stare blankly,
lost in my churning thoughts about the Patriots, but a moment later I realize that
the broadcast isn’t about warfront skirmishes or Colonies news, but about the Republic’s
Elector. A surge of dislike instinctively courses through me at the sight of Anden
on the screen. I strain to hear the newscast, wondering how differently the Colonies
would interpret the same events.

A caption runs under Anden’s recorded address. I read it in disbelief.

E
LECTOR
F
REES
Y
OUNGER
B
ROTHER OF
N
OTORIOUS
R
EBEL “
D
AY”;
T
O
A
DDRESS
P
UBLIC
T
OMORROW
F
ROM
C
APITOL
T
OWER.

“As of today,” the Elector says in a prerecorded video, “Eden Bataar Wing is officially
freed from military service and, as thanks for his contributions, exempt from the
Trials. All others being transported along the warfront have been released to their
families as well.”

I have to rub my eyes and read the captions again.

They’re still there. The Elector has freed Eden.

Suddenly I can’t feel the cold air anymore. I can’t feel
anything.
My legs feel weak. My breath keeps time with the hammering of my heart. This can’t
be right. The Elector is probably announcing this publicly so he can lure me back
into the Republic and into his service. He’s trying to trick me and make himself look
good. There’s no way he would’ve released Eden—and all the others, the boy I’d seen
on the train—of his own accord. No possible way.

No possible way? Even after everything June had told me, even after what Kaede just
said? Even now, I don’t trust Anden? What’s wrong with me?

Then, as I continue watching, the Elector’s recorded address makes way for a video
showing Eden being escorted out of a courthouse, shackle-free and dressed in clothes
that usually belong on the child of an elite family.

His blond curls are neatly brushed. He searches the streets with blind eyes, but he’s
smiling.
I push my hand deeper into the snow in an attempt to steady myself. Eden looks healthy,
well taken care of. When was this filmed?

Anden’s newscast finally ends, and now the video shows footage of the failed assassination
attempt followed by a reel of warfront battles. The captions are wildly different
from what I’d see in the Republic.

F
AILED
A
SSASSINATION
A
TTEMPT ON
R
EPUBLIC’S
N
EW
E
LECTOR
P
RIMO, THE
L
ATEST
S
IGN OF
U
NREST IN
R
EPUBLIC

The caption is wrapped up by a smaller line in the corner of the screen that says
T
HIS BROADCAST BROUGHT TO YOU BY
E
VERGREEN
E
NT
. The now-familiar circular symbol is beside it.

“Make up your own mind about Anden,” Kaede mutters. She stops to wipe snowflakes off
her eyelashes.

I was wrong.
The certainty of this sits in my stomach like a dead weight, a rock of guilt for
turning so viciously on June when she’d tried to explain all of it to me in the underground
shelter. The awful things I’d said to her. I think of the strange, unsettling ads
I’ve seen here, the crumbling living quarters of the poor, the disappointment I feel
in knowing that the Colonies aren’t the shining beacon my father imagined. His dream
of glittering skyscrapers and a better life was just that.

I remember my dream of what I’d do after all this was over . . . run into the Colonies
with June, Tess, Eden . . . start a new life, leave the Republic behind. Maybe I’ve
been trying to escape to the wrong place and run away from the wrong things. I think
of all the times I clashed with soldiers. The hatred I had for Anden and everyone
who grew up rich. Then I picture the slums that I’d grown up in. I despise the Republic,
don’t I? I want to see them collapse, yeah? But only now do I make the distinction—I
despise the Republic’s laws, but I love the Republic itself. I love the
people.
I’m not just doing this for the Elector; I’m doing this for
them.

“Are the speakers at the Capitol Tower still hooked up to the JumboTrons?” I ask Kaede.

“As far as I know, yeah,” she replies. “With all the commotion over the last forty-eight
hours, no one’s noticed the modified wiring.”

My eyes go to the rooftops, where fighter jets lie in wait. “Are you as good of a
pilot as you say?” I ask.

Kaede shrugs her shoulders and grins. “Better.”

Slowly, a plan starts to form in my mind.

Another pair of Colonies soldiers runs by. This time, an unsettling feeling creeps
down my neck. These soldiers, like the last ones, also turn down the alley we’d come
through. I make sure there are no more coming, then hurry out into the darkness of
the street.
No, no. Not now.

Kaede follows close behind. “What is it?” she whispers. “You just turned as white
as a goddy snowstorm.”

I’d left her alone and vulnerable in a place I once thought would be our safe haven.
I’d left her to the wolves. And if something happens to her now because of me . . .
I break into a run. “I think they’re heading toward the hospital,” I say. “For June.”

I
SNAP OUT OF MY DREAM, LIFT MY HEAD, AND MY EYES
sweep the area. The illusion of Metias vanishes. I’m in a hospital room, and Day
is nowhere to be seen. It’s the middle of the night. Hadn’t we been in here earlier?
I have a vague recollection of Day at my bedside, and Day stepping out onto the balcony
to greet a cheering crowd. Now he’s not here. Where did he go?

It takes me another second, light-headed as I am, to figure out what woke me up. I
am not alone in the room. There are half a dozen Colonies soldiers in here. A tall
soldier with long red hair hoists her gun and points it at me.

“That’s the one?” she asks, keeping me in her line of fire.

An older male soldier nods. “Yup. Didn’t know Day was hiding a Republic soldier. This
girl is none other than June Iparis. The Republic’s most well-known prodigy. DesCon
Corp will be happy. This prisoner’s going to be worth a lot of money.” He gives me
a cold smile. “Now, my dear. Tell us where Day went.”

*   *   *

Sixteen minutes have passed. The soldiers have secured my hands behind my back with
a temporary set of cuffs. My mouth is gagged. Three of them stand near the room’s
open door, while the others guard the balcony. I groan. Even though my fever is gone
and my joints don’t ache, my head still feels dizzy. (Where
did
Day go?)

One of the soldiers talks into an earpiece. “Yes,” he says. A pause, and then, “We’re
moving her to a cell. DesCon’s going to get a lot of good info out of this one. We’ll
send Day along for questioning once we get hold of him.” Another soldier is holding
the door open with his boot. They’re waiting for a gurney to arrive, I realize, so
they can take me away. That means I probably have less than two or three minutes to
get myself out of this.

I clench down on my gag, force down my nausea, and swallow. My thoughts and memories
are getting jumbled up. I blink, wondering if I’m hallucinating. The Patriots are
being sponsored by the Republic. Why didn’t I see that earlier? It was so obvious,
right from the beginning—the elaborate furnishings in the apartment, how easily Razor
could get us from place to place without getting caught.

Now I watch the soldier continue to talk into his earpiece. How do I warn Day now?
He must have left through the balcony doors—when he comes back, I’ll be gone and they’ll
be here, ready to question him. They might even think we’re Republic spies. I run
a finger repeatedly across my paper clip ring.

The paper clip ring.

My finger stops moving. Then I inch it gradually off my ring finger behind my back
and try to unfurl its spiraling metal wires. A soldier glances at me, but I close
my eyes and let out a soft moan of pain through my gag. He returns to his conversation.
I let my fingers run down the spiraling ring and pull it straight. The paper clips
were twisted six times. I unfurl the first two. Then I straighten out the rest of
the paper clip and bend it into what I hope is a stretched-out Z shape. The movement
makes both of my arms cramp painfully.

Suddenly one of the balcony soldiers stops talking to check the streets below. He
stays like that for a while, his eyes searching. If he heard Day, Day must have vanished
again. The soldier scrutinizes the roofs, then loses interest and goes back into his
stance. Far down the hospital corridor, I hear people talking and the unmistakable
sound of wheels against the tiled floor. They’re bringing the gurney.

I have to hurry. I insert one, then two of the bent paper clips into the lock on my
cuffs. My arms are killing me, but I don’t have time to rest them. Gingerly I push
one of the wires around in the lock, feeling it scrape against the lock’s interior
until it finally hits the tumbler. I twist the paper clip, pushing the tumbler aside.

“DesCon’s on their way with some backup,” one soldier murmurs. As he says it, I move
the second paper clip and hear the pin in the lock give a tiny, almost imperceptible
click. Two soldiers and a nurse wheel the gurney into my room, stop for a moment inside
the doorway, then roll it in my direction. The lock on my chains opens—I feel the
cuffs coming off my hands with a soft clank. One soldier fixes milky blue eyes on
me and pulls his thick lips into a frown. He notices the subtle change in my expression,
and heard the clicking sound as well. His eyes flick to my arms.

If I’m going to make a break for it, now’s my only chance.

Suddenly I twist to the side of the bed and jump off. The chains fall back into the
bed and my feet hit the floor. Dizziness hits me like a wall of water, but I manage
to keep it at bay. The soldier with his gun pointed at me shouts out a warning, but
he’s too slow. I kick out at the gurney as hard as I can—it topples over, taking down
one soldier with it. Another soldier grabs at me, but I duck and manage to slip out
of his grasp. My eyes focus on the balcony.

But there are still three soldiers standing over there. They rush at me. I avoid two
of them, but the third catches me around my shoulders and wraps an arm across my neck.
He throws me down, knocking the breath out of me. I struggle frantically to free myself.

“Stay down!” one exclaims, while another tries to snap a new set of cuffs on my wrists.
He lets out a howl as I twist around and sink my teeth deep into his arm.

No good. I’m captured, I’m arrested.

Suddenly the balcony’s glass door shatters into a million pieces. The soldiers spin
around, bewildered. Everything is whirling. In the midst of shouts and footsteps,
I see two people breaking into the room from the balcony. One’s a girl I recognize.
Kaede?
I think incredulously.

The other is Day.

Kaede kicks one soldier in the neck—Day barrels into the soldier holding me down and
knocks him to the floor. Before anyone can react, Day’s up again. He grabs my hands
and yanks me to my feet.

Kaede’s already at the balcony ledge. “Don’t shoot them!” I hear a soldier call out
behind us. “They’re valuable property!” Day rushes us onto the balcony, then leaps
onto the railing’s ledge in one bound. He and Kaede try to pull me upright as two
other guards run toward us.

But I start sinking to my knees. My sudden burst of energy is no match for my lingering
illness—I’m too weak. Day jumps back down from the ledge and kneels beside me. Kaede
lets out a whoop, tackling one of the soldiers to the ground. “See you there!” she
yells back at us. Then she rushes inside the room amid all the confusion, throwing
the guards off. I see her slip out of their grasp and vanish down the corridor.

Day takes my arms, then wraps them around his neck.
“Don’t let go.”
When he straightens, I tighten my legs around him and cling to his back as hard as
I can. He climbs onto the balcony ledge, boots crunching through broken glass, and
leaps onto the outcropping that wraps around the second floor. Immediately I understand
where we’re going. We’re all heading for the roof, where fighter jets lie in wait.
Kaede is taking the stairs. We’re traveling by a more direct route.

We edge out onto the second-floor ledge. I hang on for dear life. Strands of Day’s
hair brush against my face as he pulls us up to the third floor’s outcropping. I feel
his rapid breathing, his muscles hard against my skin. Two more floors to go. A soldier
attempts to follow us, decides against it, then rushes back inside to take the stairs.

Day struggles with his footing as he pulls us up one more floor. We’re almost at the
roof. The soldiers start spilling out onto the lawn below. I can see them pointing
their guns up at us. Day grits his teeth and sets me down on the ledge. “Go first,”
he whispers, then gives me a boost. I grab the top ledge, gather all my strength,
and pull. When I finally make it over the edge, I whirl around and grab Day’s hand.
He leaps onto the roof too. My eyes go to a streak of dark red staining his hand.
He must’ve injured it in the climb.

I feel so light-headed. “Your hand,” I start to say, but he just shakes his head at
me, wraps his arm around my waist, and guides us toward the nearest of the fighter
jets lining the roof. Soldiers start flooding out of the roof’s entrance door—I get
a good look at the one running fastest toward us. Kaede.