Rebel Nation (23 page)

She had another choice. She could stay here, curled up with Jude, until the sun came up and it was time to head farther south. If Bennett really gave them twenty-four hours, they'd have maybe ten to get as far away as they could.

How far could they get in ten hours? West never drove faster than twenty-five miles an hour. Two hundred fifty miles. Was it enough? If she went back to the city, it would buy them some more time.

Clover wanted Jude with her. She wanted Bennett to allow it. She couldn't make herself take the risk that he would.

The natural progress of things is for liberty to yield . . .

—THOMAS JEFFERSON,
LETTER TO EDWARD CARRINGTON, MAY 27, 1788

Bennett let his phone ring three times without looking
away from the section of the wall he could see from his window. He picked up the receiver on the verge of the fourth ring and said, “Yes.”

“Mr. Bennett, you have a call from the gate.”

He finally turned from the window and sat ramrod straight at his desk. “Thank you, Karen, put it through.”

He listened to crackling static, tension creeping up his spine and threatening to explode in his head.

“Mr. Bennett?”

“Yes.” It came out more terse than he meant it to.

“Mr. Bennett, a young woman arrived at the gate, from the outside.” The guard sounded flustered. Bennett couldn't blame him. Unexpected people arriving on the outside of the gate was unheard of. “She says her name is Clover Donovan, and that you're expecting her.”

“Detain her as gently as possible.” Bennett's heart beat against his stiff, aching spine, rushing blood into his head and bringing the almost headache into full bloom. “I'm on my way. Do not let her leave.”

Bennett put the phone down and stood up. She was at the gate. He should have asked if she was alone, although the guard would have mentioned others.

If he knew they were there, he would. For all Bennett knew, he'd be shot the minute he got to the gate. That didn't slow him down as he made his way out of the building and to his car. The engine roared to life when he started it.

He turned the key again, cutting the engine, got out of the car, and walked as fast as he could while holding on to his dignity back into the building.

“I need you to get the gate on the line for me.”

The girl behind the front desk looked up at him, startled, and uncomprehending. Like he'd spoken to her in a foreign language. “Mr. Bennett?”

“Now, please.” He pushed the words out through gritted teeth.

The girl fumbled with her phone and said, “Yes, sir,” as she dialed.

She held the phone out to him while it was still ringing. He held it to his ear and waited until a guard picked it up and said, “Gate.”

“This is Langston Bennett.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then, “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“Bring the girl to me. To my office. Do you understand?”

Another beat of confusion from the guard on the other end of the phone. He waited through it. Finally, he heard, “Yes, sir.”

Bennett handed the receiver back to the young woman who was staring at him. He was fairly sure she wasn't the same young woman who usually sat at this desk. “Are you new?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” She still held the phone in one hand. “I'm Jenny.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” he said.

“Yes, Mr. Bennett.” She hung the phone up and stayed fully attuned to him until he walked away from her, back toward the elevators.

All the lessons of history and experience must be lost upon us if we are content to trust alone to the peculiar advantages we happen to possess.

—MARTIN VAN BUREN, INAUGURAL SPEECH, MARCH 4, 1837

“Where are you taking me?” Clover sat in the backseat
of a big black car with beige leather seats and clutched Mango's lead so tightly her fingers cramped. She was terrified that someone was going to try to take him away from her. She would fall apart if that happened. She'd break into a million pieces that she'd never be able to put back together again.

She'd been taken by a gate guard to the Waverly-Stead building, where Langston Bennett waited to put her in this car. Bennett kept his eyes on the road. “Don't worry, Clover.”

“Right.” Mango pushed his head against her arm and then into her lap. He knew she was upset, but couldn't know why. He wasn't angry at her for the danger she'd put him in.

They were awake by now. The sun had come up over an hour ago. West knew she was gone. Jude would have known the minute his eyes opened. It was possible Jude had come awake before the sun came up. It made Clover's chest hurt to think about the panic they must be feeling now.

But they were safe. West would move them on south. He would protect them. He'd have time to get them to Southern California, to find some place for them to get through the winter.

She'd figure out a way back to them. She couldn't let herself doubt that. When she escaped, she'd go to Denver even if she had to walk. Alex and Maggie would know where West was.

“Clover, calm down,” Bennett said.

She was rocking, one arm wrapped around her dog and the other around her ribs.
Shut up. Shut up.
She kept her mouth clamped tightly closed and hunched her shoulders so that they muffled Bennett's voice.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Clover. You're too important. I know you don't understand now, but you will.”

Huge pine trees flashed by the windows. Clover closed her eyes as the car went around a curve and her stomach turned over in protest. They were driving toward Lake Tahoe. Was he going to put her in the
Veronica
right now?

He finally stopped talking, and she didn't want to get him started again, so she didn't ask. She figured she'd find out soon enough anyway. She tried to breathe slowly, to focus on not letting motion sickness take hold, and imagined each mile they drove as a mile that West and Jude and the others were traveling from his reach.

The slow breathing didn't work. “I'm going to be sick,” she finally said. The only thing worse than getting Bennett talking again would be puking all over herself in front of him.

“You'll be okay,” he said, and she felt a spike of irritation that actually helped cut through the nausea. How the hell did he know if she was going to be okay or not? “Look, we're here.”

Oh. Bennett turned the car into a driveway, then stopped at a massive gate. She had to lean toward her window and tip her head back to see the top of it. The driveway veered sharply to the left beyond the gate, and all she could see were trees. “Where are we?”

Bennett rolled down his window and reached out to push a button. A few seconds later the ornate, heavy gates opened as if by magic. Only the Company would waste energy on magic gates, she thought as she watched them. She was terrified, but excited, too.

This was what she'd come back for. This was what she should have been doing when she came back the first time. She needed to find out Bennett's secrets—the things the rebellion didn't already know about.

Bennett rolled through the gates as soon as they were open. When he drove around the curve in the driveway, a house came into view, and Clover gasped.

It looked like a huge, ornate sand castle, decorated with sparkling stones and glittering with snow that must have fallen at this higher elevation the night before. She'd never seen anything so beautiful.

“Welcome to the Cottage,” Bennett said as he pulled to the front door and stopped the car.

The Cottage? Clover opened her door and looked up at the house. It had towers and spires. All it lacked to make it a fairy-tale castle were a moat and drawbridge. “What are we doing here?”

“You're going to live here .”

A shiver ran up her spine. She didn't like the tone of his voice. There was a finality in it that could have meant anything. Bennett got out of the car as the front door opened. She found Mango's lead and attached it before letting him out and standing up herself.

A woman stood in the doorway with an unnaturally cheerful smile on her face. She looked as old as Mrs. Finch, but far less grandmotherly. She was big boned and soft with bright white hair cut short that stood up in spikes around her head. Her startlingly smooth skin was completely unmarred by virus scars.

Clover looked at Bennett who was busy at the back of the car.

“Anna,” Bennett said.

“Mr. Bennett. It's wonderful to see you, as always. If I'd had more notice, I could have had the children—”

“I've brought some things for Clover.” He stood up and used an elbow to close the trunk with a loud
thunk
that cut Anna off. He held a box in his arms. “You might need to fill in the gaps. Karen called you, didn't she?”

“Of course she did. Oh, we'll set Miss Clover right up. Don't you worry about her.” The woman's voice was as artificial as her smile. Something about her made every one of Clover's nerves stand on end. Clover stood there, wishing she could disappear, while they talked about her like she wasn't there at all. “I think we can scrounge her up some breakfast, too. Poor girl looks like she hasn't had a decent meal in weeks.”

“Come on,” Bennett said as he passed her.

She followed him, because she couldn't think of anything else to do. For the first time since leaving the motel in Carson City, Clover had serious doubts. She wasn't going to do anyone any good if Anna locked her in the basement of this castle they called a cottage the second Bennett drove away.

She actually wanted to beg Bennett to take her away, back to the city, back to her room in the barracks. It was only the thought of her brother and her father and her friends, of Jude, that kept her moving forward, following Bennett into the house.

The Cottage's entryway was nearly as big as the entire house Clover had lived in her whole life. A massive split staircase rose in front of her and their footsteps echoed off the veined marble floor. Anna walked with purpose toward the stairs, and Bennett followed her up them. Clover and Mango lagged back a little, because every step she took was through a mire of apprehension that made walking feel the way she felt in the pool when Jude took his hands away.

“You didn't mention the dog,” Anna said. Her voice was squeaky and too high-pitched for her body.

“I'm sorry, I should have,” Bennett said. “He's not a problem is he?”

Clover's anxiety blossomed into full-blown panic in her chest. “I can't be here without—”

Anna waved a hand behind her. “Don't worry. There are a couple of others here with service dogs. We'll be just fine.”

Anna took the right wing of the staircase, and Bennett followed with Clover and Mango trailing behind. She couldn't see a sign of any other people. Everything about the Cottage was extravagant, though. The carpet under her was cream colored and so thick her feet sank into it with each step. The walls were covered from waist-height down with wallpaper a few shades darker than the carpet and swirled with shimmering gold.

Questions were backing up in Clover and making it hard for her to maintain her resolute silence. Where were these other service dogs? Where were the kids they belonged to? What happened here? Why did Bennett bring her here? Before she could ask, though, Anna stopped at a door with a crystal knob and opened it.

“This is your room, Clover,” she said, addressing Clover directly for the first time. “You get it all to yourself for now.”

The room had two beds with ornate, white-painted iron headboards and footboards. Both had thick white comforters and white pillows that matched white lace curtains over two huge windows. Each bed had a dark wood desk next to it, and a matching dresser with a huge mirror stood against the opposite wall. Each desk had a large bulletin board above it.

It was like the dormitory at the Academy, only dialed up to impossibly rich. Clover looked up at Bennett. He set the box he carried on the floor at the foot of the nearest bed. Clover twisted Jude's watch around her wrist.

“Do you have time to visit?” Anna asked.

“I need to get back to the city.” He stepped into the hallway. “I'll be back in a day or two.”

He left, down the hall, down the stairs, without looking at Clover again. All of this work to get her back, and he just dropped her off without a second thought.

Clover was left alone with Anna. The false cheerfulness was gone. Anna's upper lip quirked up and she looked like she'd stepped in a pile of goat manure. She pointed to a door in the wall to her right. “You have a bathroom there. Take a shower before you come down, hmm?”

A shower actually sounded like heaven to Clover, but she didn't say so. “Down where?”

“I'll meet you in the entry in thirty minutes. I trust that will be enough time to make yourself presentable.”

Anna left and Clover checked the door, but it didn't have a lock. That was good and bad. She couldn't be locked in, but she couldn't lock anyone else out either.

The bathroom was as lush as everything else. The bedroom's hardwood floors gave way to small white tiles. An old-fashioned claw-foot tub stood against one wall. A pile of thick cotton towels sat on a shelf over the toilet.

Clover closed Mango in the bathroom with her. There was no lock on this door either. She ran the water until it was as hot as she could stand it, then took off her jacket and her shoes, then the jeans and T-shirt she'd been wearing for several days.

The water felt good enough that Clover let her guard down and allowed a soft sob to escape her. Where were they now? Fifty miles away? A hundred? She let the water stream over her face, wetting her hair. She would find them again. As soon as she figured out what the hell was happening here, in this strange, opulent castle of a cottage, she'd find them again.

“I am not alone,” she said out loud. It helped.

—

The box Bennett carried into her room had three
pairs of pants and three tops. The pants were all dark gray and the tops were long-sleeved white button-downs. She also found a gray cardigan sweater. Everything was a size too big but fit well enough when Clover tucked the top in and put on the black leather belt she found in the bottom of the box.

She put on white socks and a pair of plain black shoes that miraculously fit her perfectly. Bennett had taken Clover's pack as soon as she stepped out of the gate guard's car and she was sure she'd never see it again. He'd put a canvas bag in the box, but Clover didn't have anything to put in it.

Bennett had been right. She had nothing of her own, except the filthy clothes she took off in the bathroom and Mango. And Jude's green plastic watch, which she'd put on as soon as she was dry enough. She picked up her dog's lead and led him out of the room.

Anna wasn't the one who met her in the massive entryway. A girl Clover's age stood there, wearing the same dark gray pants and white button-down top. Even the same plain black shoes. A uniform, then. Her hair was so pale it was nearly as white as Anna's, and her skin was covered in freckles.

“Come on,” she said without looking at Clover.

Clover hesitated, suddenly afraid to get swallowed up by this huge house. “What's your name?”

The girl turned and looked Clover up and down. “Elaina.”

“I'm Clover.”

“I know.”

Clover tightened her grip on Mango's lead and walked with Elaina out of the entryway, down a hallway, and into a room with a long, polished table surrounded by at least two dozen matching chairs.

Most of the chairs were filled with people. Clover saw a boy as young as Emmy, and two men who looked Anna's age.

“I'll take your dog to the kennel,” Elaina said.

“No.” She held tighter to Mango. “No way.”

“Anna said—”

“I don't care.”

“It's okay, Elaina.” Clover turned and saw Anna come into the dining room from a door to the left. “She can keep her animal with her today.”

Today. Clover crossed her free arm over her body and fiddled with Jude's watch again. What had she gotten herself into? This was such a bad idea. Such a bad, bad idea.

Clover did her best to choke down a few bites of oatmeal. She was hungry, but her throat wouldn't work. The dining room was as over-the-top as the other parts of the Cottage that Clover had seen. A massive chandelier hung overhead with every one of a hundred small bulbs lit, despite the sunlight filtering in through a row of windows along one wall. They ate out of delicate china bowls with spoons that Clover thought were probably real silver, and drank orange juice from heavy, cut-crystal glasses.