Rebel Nation (14 page)

—

Tim Everett was fourteen years old and had a natural
ability to lead. After eating and getting a few hours of hard, restless sleep, West sat on top of another old school desk in a different museum-like room in the schoolhouse, facing the boy. Jude had found him, and two others, in the Dinosaur less than a week ago.

The other new kids trusted Tim. They knew and trusted Jude, too, but so far they stuck together like a separate group and they listened to Tim.

“I divided them up by street,” Tim said. He had a defensive tone in his voice, like West might laugh at him or argue with him. West just stayed quiet until he went on. “So, we go door to door. Look for anything we can use. Make a note of whatever we find but don't take.”

He handed a small stack of paper to West. Notes, by address, of whatever items the kids who searched thought might be useful. Greenhouses, garden tools, bicycles, camping gear. One house had a biofuel setup. Things they might really be able to use immediately—food, medicines—were too outdated to be helpful.

“Might be best if they make note of guns from now on and leave them be.” He didn't want some little kid accidentally shooting himself or someone else. “But you guys did real well.”

Tim's face flushed a little at the compliment, and he seemed to make a decision. He said, “I have an idea.”

West was open to ideas. He was having a hard time clearing his head from rotating worries about Leanne, his responsibility to these kids, and a constant, hard line of concern about Clover and Jude.

“We should set up lookouts north and south. There are places where you can see all the way down the mountain. Give them bikes, so they can get back here quick to warn us.”

West nodded slowly. “Can you organize that?”

Tim nodded and looked pleased at being trusted.

Isaiah came into the room before Tim could say anything else. West tipped his chin to Tim, who stood up and left. He still didn't know what to say to Isaiah, so he just waited for him to talk.

“You can't be mad at me forever.” His unspoken response to that must have shown on his face because Isaiah sighed and said, “Come on, West.”

West ran his hands over his face and then through his hair. “Fine. You want to do this now? I loved her. You knew I loved her. You're an asshole.”

“She hurt me, too.”

Was he supposed to care about that? West didn't say anything else.

“I'm here,” Isaiah said finally. “I can't go back. I left my grandmother alone, without even telling her I was going. What else do I need to do to prove myself to you? In a day or two I'll probably get the virus and die, so if we could talk about how to make this place safe for these kids, that would be great.”

West was finally surprised out of his stubborn anger. “She didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

She didn't tell him that the suppressant wasn't really a suppressant. That the medicine in the first dose, the one Isaiah had when he was three, immunized him, and every dose after just kept him addicted. “I can't believe it.”

“Are
you
planning on telling me?” Isaiah's posture changed. He didn't like being on the outside. He never did. “What?”

“You aren't getting the virus. None of us are.” He explained why. Isaiah's face went through a spectrum of emotion. He was confused by the sudden dissolution of everything he'd ever been taught about his health. He was hurt that Bridget had hidden something so important from him. Relieved that he wouldn't die. “We have enough suppressant to wean you off it, so you won't even go through withdrawal.”

Isaiah breathed like he was trying not to throw up. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “That's why we stayed. I mean, she wanted to leave, but she finally decided to stay in the city because she was afraid of the virus.”

Bridget had lied to him. Convincingly, West guessed by the authenticity of his reaction. He tried to hold on to his anger, to keep it like an iron bar down his spine, making him unbendable, unbreakable. “Yeah, well, she lied to both of us, then, didn't she?”

Isaiah shook himself and sat on the edge of a desk. “Okay. So . . . we have to figure out how to defend ourselves.”

“Tim is setting up lookouts north and south. He said there are places where you can see right down the mountain.”

“That's a good start. The bell in the school is a good warning system. We need to make sure all of these kids know what to do if it rings.”

“Come to the schoolhouse,” West said. “That's our base.”

Isaiah shook his head. “Maybe the bigger kids. The little ones need to hide. We need to teach them how to hide.”

West stood and walked closer to the stove. “Okay. That makes sense. But what then? We're not going to be able to arm ourselves well enough to defend against the guard. You know that, better than anyone.”

Isaiah nodded slowly. “We should still find whatever we can. But you're right. We can't be stronger, so we have to be smarter.”

“Keep them out in the first place.”

“For as long as we can,” Isaiah said. “Have the bigger kids push as many cars as they can find across the roads on either end of town.”

“Won't that draw attention?”

Isaiah rubbed his fingers over his mouth. “No. I don't think so. No one comes up here. It won't matter.”

Maybe. “It might be better if they think we aren't here at all.”

“Bridget doesn't know,” Isaiah said, then second-guessed himself. “Does she?”

West shook his head. She wouldn't. “Leanne does, though.”

“Bennett could break her,” Isaiah said. “No matter how strong you think she is.”

West was all too aware of that. “What if we made it look like we weren't here, though? If we laid so low that Bennett couldn't find us even if he was standing on Main Street?”

“Yeah, maybe. It wouldn't work indefinitely. But if someone just drove through, it might keep them from finding us.”

“Who would just randomly drive through?” That was the whole point. The whole draw of Virginia City. No one would find them here. No one would accidentally stumble on them, because there was literally no reason for anyone to be here. “If someone drives through, they're looking for us.”

“West, what about my grandma?”

West hadn't thought about Mrs. Finch at all, and now the omission hit him hard. When Bennett found out that Isaiah was gone, would he go after the old woman? “She doesn't know anything.”

“Yeah, but Bennett doesn't know that. He might kill her trying to figure it out.”

“No,” West said. “No, I don't think he will. We'll get her out, Isaiah.”

“How?”

“I don't know.”

I hope . . . my own children never have to fight a war.

—GEORGE H. W. BUSH,
LETTER TO HIS PARENTS, JUNE 26, 1944

James felt like his lungs had been replaced by a pair
of bricks. He couldn't draw a full breath. It couldn't have been more than fifty degrees outside, but he had sweat through his shirt.

If he had any hope of getting Leanne Wood out of the city, it had to happen now. She was still in the holding cells in the basement of the barracks building. Once she'd been arraigned, she'd be put in the city jail and there would be nothing he could do for her then.

He had to pull himself together before he walked into the holding area so he could act like he belonged there. In fact, he reminded himself, he did belong there. He clutched a folder filled with random papers from his own desk in one hand and forced a deep breath. “Let's do this.”

“What?”

James turned to the woman coming out of the building. A brunette with virus scars, maybe thirty years old. She worked in the prosecutor's office. She would be here arranging for Leanne to be moved for her arraignment. He pushed past her, into the building, pulling the door closed firmly behind him.

“James?” The man behind the desk was named Rory Harper, and James couldn't have been more relieved. He knew Harper, but not too well. Just well enough.

“Hey,” he said, praying that his voice didn't betray him. “Bennett wants Leanne Wood in his office.”

Harper's eyebrows shot up and he looked somewhere over James's shoulder. “That's kind of weird. Shelly just came in to file notice that Leanne would be moved for arraignment within the hour.”

James rubbed his palm on his thigh. “I'll bring her there after Bennett has his say.”

If Harper asked for the order, to actually see it instead of trusting that it was there, James was in serious trouble. He'd end up in the holding cell with Leanne instead of helping her get out of it. It felt to him like Harper took about a week to think through what James had proposed.

“Okay then,” Harper finally said.

For the next ten minutes, James's heart thrashed itself against the bricks of his lungs. All of the things that could go wrong passed through his mind in an endless, tragic parade.

Bennett could come through the door. Harper could be in the back arranging for the guard to arrest James. Leanne could have hanged herself in her cell. It had happened before. Harper could bring her out, then ask to see the non-existent order. Anything could happen. Anything.

What did happen was that Harper came back leading Leanne by her shackled hands. Her hair was pulled back in two short braids and she wore an orange jumpsuit at least two sizes too big that made her look like a little girl playing some kind of horrible dress-up game.

Her eyes flashed surprise, but only for a split second. She lowered her head and didn't say anything. Harper put the keys to the shackles in James's hand. “Don't forget to drop that report off in filing,” he said.

That was what James was counting on. Everything that happened in the holding cell was documented with an order. So many of them that if they were being executed by someone familiar, they just went right up to filing on the third floor.

“Will do,” he said, and grabbed the shackles, maybe a little harder than was strictly necessary. Six more steps and they'd be outside. Another dozen and they'd be at the car that was always parked right in front of the barracks, the first spot on the left. The keys were inside. They were always inside, ready for anyone who needed to use it to run an errand or pick up supplies.

“What are you doing?” Leanne hissed under her breath as he pushed her head down with his hand, for show, and sat her in the backseat of the car. He passed her the keys to her handcuffs before walking around to the driver's-side door.

“There's a blanket back there. Get under it.”

It took less than fifteen minutes to drive to the gate. If for some reason Harper called Bennett to confirm, it was possible that the guards at the gate had been warned already and had orders to stop them.

He wanted to believe that he didn't care. His wife was dead, his children were lost. Either he'd get out of the city and help them, or they could put him in front of his own squad and be done with it.

The pure fear mixing with adrenaline in his blood said otherwise. He cared.

He didn't recognize the guard, but the man just bent to look in the car, took in James's badge when he held it up, and waved him out without even asking where he was going.

Had it always been this easy? James had never consciously thought about Reno as a big prison, but he definitely felt like he was escaping now. And expected resistance that wasn't there. It was unsettling.

Leanne stayed hidden in the backseat, under the blanket, as he drove away from Reno for the first time in more than a decade. He almost forgot about her there as he gripped the steering wheel, focused on staying on the road, and tried to keep a neutral face in case anyone passed driving back to the city from the lake.

No one did. And once they were off the main highway, he pulled off the road behind a long-abandoned strip mall. “Leanne?”

He turned in his seat and reached back to pull the blanket off her. Somehow she'd wedged herself into the footwell behind the passenger seat. Her prosthetic leg stuck straight out in front of her and she looked like a cornered, terrified animal.

“Jesus,” he said. “Stay there.”

He got out of the car—putting his feet on non-city ground, although technically they were still in what used to be Reno—and came around to open the back passenger-side door. He put his arms under hers and she cried out in pain when he tried to pull her up. He let go and tried something else, supporting her back and letting her ease herself into the seat.

“I'm fine,” she said. Her voice was shaky and her face was dead white. She didn't look fine. He waited for her to get herself together enough to get out of the car and move into the front seat.

He wished he'd thought to bring some water or a thermos of coffee, or something. She clearly needed it. Her hands shook in her lap. He almost wished he didn't have such a clear view of her now. She'd been beaten. He saw bruises around her collarbone that reminded him uncomfortably of Cassidy Golightly, who was the last person James saw in the Kill Room. The very last, he realized, and wasn't even sure how to feel about that.

“Are you okay?” he asked, finally, when she didn't say anything.

“What did you do?” She stayed rigid in her seat, facing the windshield with tight, precise posture. “What have you done?”

“I've taken you out of the city,” he said, slowly. Maybe she was in shock.

“You should take me back.”

“Leanne.” His tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth. He didn't know how to comfort her. He didn't know how to talk to her at all, suddenly. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“No,” she said. “No, it's not.”

She was crying. Not heavy, ugly bawling, but soft and quiet. Tears stained her cheeks.
Shit.
“What did he do to you?”

“We have to get them out. We have to—”

He stayed quiet and let her cry. He wanted to drive, to get farther from the city, but he didn't know where to go. “Where are my children?”

“Virginia City.” When James started the engine and turned the car around to head that way, she said, “We have to get them out of there.”

—

Clover and Jude had been put together in a room in
a small house on the south side of New Boulder. It reminded Clover of the rooms at the Dinosaur. A bed, a dresser, a chair, and a table filled the space. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I'll tell them we need another room,” Jude said from the doorway. He looked over his shoulder, back down the hall.

“Do you think Virginia City could be like this?” she asked him. “Do you think we could build something like New Boulder?”

He came into the room and sat in the chair. “I don't know. I think maybe we're trying to do something different. Bigger.”

“I don't think anyone knows what we're trying to do.”

“I think we all know.”

She petted Mango's head. She should let him outside. “I don't.”

“These people aren't Freaks,” he said. “They're just trying to live quiet, under the radar.”

Freaks. They were supposed to be some kind of big rebellion. Saving the world from the Company and the addictive suppressant. West had given her enough of the dope to keep her and Jude from going into withdrawal for three weeks—the length of their trip. One shot every three days, when the symptoms started. They would wean off it when they got home.

“They could help us,” she said.

“They won't.”

“You don't know that. They know Leanne. They might—”

“I talked to Alex.”

Anger surged through her. Mango must have felt it because he sat up straighter. “Without me?”

Jude gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. “Maggie is pregnant. He won't leave her. No one will leave New Boulder. They have a life here, Clover. A good one.”

“Good for them. What about the rest of us? What about all of the people who don't even know what's happening to them? What about the kids we left in Foster City?”

“You want my real opinion?” When she didn't answer, he went on anyway. “We don't need to go to D.C. We've seen enough, haven't we? They need us at home.”

“The book.” She'd been so focused on it for so long.

“Waverly was crazy. You know he was, Clover. We need to go home.”

Home had stopped being a place, she realized all of a sudden. It certainly wasn't the house she'd grown up in. Not the Academy either. Not Reno. The Dinosaur wasn't theirs anymore. Home was her brother and Jude. “I want to talk to Alex.”

—

“How many are you?” Alex asked, even though he knew
the answer. Clover had already told him.

“There are twenty-four of us,” she said again, hissing the words out through her teeth. Jude took one of her hands, but she yanked it back. “There are twenty-four of us, and we need your help.”

“We can't help you.” Alex looked at Maggie, and Clover followed his gaze.

“Alex,” Maggie said, softly.

“Don't.” He had his arm firmly around her. Alex turned his attention to Jude. “We can send you back with some things. Seed, at least. Some books that might help.”

“Books and seeds aren't going to help us if Bennett comes for us,” Clover said.

“If Bennett comes for you, there isn't anything we can do to help you, either. You're too close to him. You should leave.”

Clover snorted. Leave and go where, exactly? “Should we come here?”

Maggie opened her mouth, but Alex spoke first. “We can't take on that many more. Even if we could, we can't risk bringing Bennett here.”

“Great.”

A boy, maybe twelve years old, came close to them, pulling a large wagon. He stopped three or four feet behind Alex, who turned to look at him and let go of Maggie.

“Lucas. Come on.” The boy brought the wagon closer. “Enough seed to get you started. And those books. There isn't anything else we can do for you. I'm sorry.”

He closed off. Even Clover saw it. She turned away, but Jude caught her hand and kept her with him. “Thank you,” he said.

Alex nodded, once.

Maggie took an envelope out of a pocket in her dress and pressed it into Jude's hand. “This is for Leanne. If you see her, please give it to her. Tell her I love her. We love her.”

“If you love her,” Clover said, to Alex more than Maggie, “you wouldn't send us back alone.”

She knew immediately that she'd gone too far, but she couldn't pull the words back. They were like individual objects floating away from her mouth. Alex's face went hard and angry and Jude pulled her back, not quite behind him, but enough that he was between the two of them.

“Leanne could have been here with us,” Alex said. “She made her choices and there is nothing we can do about that now. Nothing.”

“Alex,” Maggie said, again, softly, under her breath.

Alex turned and left. He didn't bother trying to take Maggie with him, but his wife went anyway, shooting an apologetic look back at Clover and Jude. Frank would be there in the morning. Clover still wasn't sure that going back without Waverly's book was the right thing to do. It felt right and wrong in equal parts.

“I can't stop thinking that if we don't get back, it might be too late,” Jude said.

“Too late for what?” But Clover knew. They might get back to find that everyone in Virginia City had been taken back to the city. The kids might end up back in Foster City, but West would be dead. A low moan escaped her. “This is why West let us go so easy, isn't it? He thinks Bennett is going to show up.”