Revive (24 page)

Not Cole, I warn myself. Cole would be appalled by what I could tell him, but Cole would demand proof. And Jordan's right—we don't have time for that.

I ball my hands into fists, hating myself for betraying yet another friend. Hating Malone for what he's done to us.

Summer taps lightly on the inside of the vent. A tap answers. “Here we go then.” She braces her arms and pulls herself up into it. She fits with mere inches to spare around her shoulders, but soon her bare feet disappear. This is why we climb to the guys' side. Their shoulders are too broad for the opening.

Jordan gestures for me to go next, so I hop onto the sink. Reaching over my head, I press my palms and forearms into the vent's smooth walls. My shoulders and triceps whine at me as I use them to heave myself up. Ugh. Too much pizza and beer and not enough weightlifting at RTC. Halfway in, I brace myself on my stomach and stretch out my arms again.

Pull, wiggle, slide. The vent's only three feet long, and my arms and head pop out the other end. I slowly lower myself until my hands find the sinks, then worm my way out, trying not to think about how I'm flashing everyone.

When I jump down from the sink, I finally look around. The boys' bathroom is the mirror opposite of ours, and there are only two boys in it—Gabe and Lev. My stomach sinks. Even though I knew better than to expect Cole, hope is irrational.

“Ah, sweet Sophia.” Gabe throws an arm around me. “This has to be your doing.”

Octavia thrusts her e-sheet out the vent, and I grab it. “What did Jordan tell you?”

“Nothing,” Lev says. “She just gave the signal that we were going to meet tonight. You okay?”

I watch Octavia lower herself to the sink. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“Jordan said you were feeling sick.”

Jordan's head appears at the vent opening. “I had to say something to explain what she was doing in the bathroom so long.”

“Oh.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Well, it's not that far off. I was feeling sick. Still am.”

“About what happened earlier?” Gabe asks.

Octavia boots up her e-sheet. “What happened earlier?”

She didn't follow me after dinner, and didn't witness me losing it. I grit my teeth in impatience and embarrassment while Gabe fills her in. When he's done, she looks at me in concern.

“It's nothing. I can explain.”

Jordan shoos everyone away from me. “She's got a lot to explain. Listen up.”

I want to protest—this is a waste of planning time—but going along with the request will be faster. So I give Summer, Octavia, Gabe and Lev the quickest possible rundown of my past several months. Silence follows when I finish. “Hey, don't everyone speak up at once. It's not as if we have all the time in the world.”

“Can you prove it?” Lev asks.

I rest my head against the wall. “Yes, but not without my backpack.”

“Who cares about proof,” says Gabe. “You have money. That's one thing we've always needed if we want to do this.”

“Do this?” Lev says.

“Escape.”

There's another moment of silence as the six of us gauge each other's faces. Jordan assembled this team. I hope she knew what she was doing.

Then Octavia grins and begins moving things around on the e-sheet. “Excellent. Escape Planning Phase One begins tonight.”

“Escape Planning Phase One through the End happens tonight.” I ball my hands into fists. “I didn't bother to mention that Malone's going to erase my memories tomorrow, and he's transferring Kyle in the morning.”

Summer winces. “Soph, getting him out of here is going to make this way more complicated.”

“No Kyle, no my money.”

Octavia runs her hands through her hair. “I don't think we can come up with something that's going to work by tomorrow morning. This is crazy. Do you even know what time he's being transferred?”

I shake my head, feeling hopelessness wash over me. Tears threaten again. Damn it. I've wasted time enough waiting for this meeting.

“When they're moving Kyle is easy enough to figure out.” Gabe holds out a hand for the e-sheet. “Give me that.”

Octavia clutches it tighter. “That information's going to be locked down.”

“Low-level security clearance for it. I guarantee.” He wiggles his fingers, and she places the e-sheet in his hand, frowning.

“You'll trip an alert if you hack into it,” Summer says.

Gabe winks. “I don't need to hack into it. I'm borrowing a low-level clearance. It's under control.”

“Borrowing?”

He coughs into his hand. “I was hanging around this new guard the other week. He was young, interested and had no idea what I was. So I flirted with him long enough to watch his fingers as he typed in his clearance.”

Jordan smirks. “Sneaky.”

“I was thinking more like smooth, but I'll take it. It was definitely one of my finer moments.” He glances up and sees us staring at him. “What? I don't believe in gender discrimination.”

“Oh, don't worry,” says Summer. “We already know you're not discriminating.”

“Or modest,” Lev adds.

Gabe flips them both off. “You can thank me for that now. I'm in. Kyle's set to be transferred at seven. That's not a lot of time.”

I swear. “It's going to have to be enough. But seriously, if you guys don't feel comfortable risking your neck with this kind of timetable, walk away now. I'd rather take a couple bullets tomorrow than let Malone erase my memories. And I owe it to Kyle to try something. Anything.”

Gabe takes my hand. “I owe it to you to not let Malone get anywhere near your brain. We're family. We stick together.”

“Exactly,” Jordan says.

Summer nods. Octavia and Lev both adopt grim smiles but signal they're in.

I squeeze Gabe's hand, and my shoulders relax. Despite my protests, I have a much better chance with their help. “All right, then. What do we know about camp security? There are cameras everywhere, locks that require the right clearance to be bypassed, plus active defense systems around the perimeter and the holding cells.”

“Active defenses now include the AADs,” Lev says. “They got those debugged since you left, Soph.”

“Great.” AADs, or aerial assault drones, are one of RedZone's most difficult to evade weapons.

“All of that can be disabled,” Octavia says. “If I had two months, I could maybe find a way to hack into it undetected, take it over and put it to work for us. Right now, even if I can take it down, they'll catch me in a second.”

Summer twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “You need to take it down hard so they can't get it back online immediately once they catch you. I might have something.” She climbs onto the sink and disappears through the vent.

“What if we knocked out the power?” I ask. “And the generators?”

Lev shakes his head. “The minute the system detects unauthorized activity, the whole camp goes into lockdown until it's neutralized. Take out the power, and we're all stuck in the dark too.”

“So even if Summer's idea works, we're in lockdown until security gets the system back online.”

Octavia glowers at her e-sheet. “That's why my way would be better—no lockdown.”

I rest my head against the wall. “We don't have time for your way.”

“There's an emergency override.” Jordan motions to Lev. “We got this out of Bondar one day a couple years ago, remember? The problem is the only person who has the key to initiate it is Malone.”

And the only one here who can get to Malone is me. “I can handle that part. My backpack's in his office anyway. I have to go.”

“How will you get in?” Gabe asks.

“I'll think of something. He's curious about my memories.”

Lev nods. “So while you're in with Malone, Octavia takes down security and screws up their network with whatever Summer has. We go into lockdown. You override it. But security's going to have working communication unless we can figure out a way to jam their phone signals.”

“Distractions will be easier,” Gabe says. “My specialty. With my borrowed clearance I can get us into the supply warehouses. I say we show our appreciation for our time at this place by blowing bits of it up.”

“Hey!” Summer waves a data stick at me then tosses it. I catch it as she slides onto the sinks. “It's just a little something I've been working on. We'll have to test it, but I think it'll do.”

I hand the stick to Octavia. “What about Kyle? We'll have to time this right. He'll be easiest to get to once he's out of wherever they're holding him and on the way to the transport.”

“Everything's going to have to be timed perfectly,” Jordan says. “And we'll need wheels to get out the gate.”

“And a rendezvous point.”

“And supplies for the getaway.”

“And antiaircraft missiles.” Gabe rolls his eyes.

Lev snorts. “Was counting those among the supplies we need.”

Gabe hits him. “I'm serious. Assuming we get out the front gate, how are we going to ditch the chase team?”

“The snow might help with that,” Octavia says. “Storm is coming in tomorrow morning. Could start as early as, well, any time.”

We all look around as if there were windows in here. Or maybe it's the pressure building. We need some release, some movement. I do anyway. My whole body is buzzing with nervous energy.

“One more thing.” Jordan turns to me. “Once we start this, it's going to be us against everyone. Probably not the youngest HYs yet. But, especially once they know it's us, Fitzpatrick's going to rally the other six. They'll be part of the group trying to stop us.”

She means Cole in particular. What do I do if Cole tries to fight me?

I curl my toes against the tile floor. “Unless Fitzpatrick and the others suspect our whole unit is in on it.”

Which would be worse? To fight my friends, or for them to suffer for my rebellion? With every new obstacle, this plan becomes more overwhelming.

Summer crosses her arms, her nails digging into her skin. “They might do that too. We won't know until it happens.”

“Right,” says Gabe. “So let's plan the hell out of this and lower the odds of everyone getting shot.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Monday Morning: Present

We hash out details for the next hour, then part for bed in deathly silence. I need these couple hours of sleep since I barely slept last night, but it's useless. Sleep can't be forced, and despite my implants, I can't shut down my brain that way. Fitzpatrick trained me to handle sleep deprivation, so I'll be able to perform tomorrow even without much rest. But I won't be as sharp as I could be.

Yawning, I peel back the blinds on the window by my bed. The predicted snowstorm is warming up. A few flakes drift by, nothing more than there was this afternoon, but I don't doubt it's coming. No matter what happens, this will likely be the last time I see the view.

I won't miss it.

Finally, I crawl under the blanket and watch the shadows dance along the floor when the heat turns on. Jordan and the others have their eyes closed, but I can't tell if they're sleeping. Sky and Eva are, though.
I'm sorry,
I silently tell them.
I won't leave you behind forever.

Of course, the reason I can't tell them the plan is because they might
want
to be left behind. How will I know?

And what if I run into Cole? And what if Kyle doesn't trust me and refuses to cooperate? What if the snow makes the roads impassable? Come on—one of us could break our ankles on the morning run and everything would be ruined. Ruined! Then what will happen to Kyle? If he dies, it's all my fault.

I pull the pillow over my head. My stomach thrashes about in my gut, drowning the butterflies in repressed vomit.

The only thing that sucks more than planning is waiting. I spend the next couple hours lying in the dark, imagining long, crazy conversations with Kyle and with Cole. Imagine trying to apologize. There's too much to apologize for. Besides, even if they both escape with me tomorrow, it's not like my problems with them will be solved.

I am pathetic.

What time is it?

Pathetic.

Time check.

On it goes.

But even a watched clock eventually strikes the hour. In this case, five a.m.

When the lights come on, I roll out of bed, twitching like I'm on a caffeine high. None of us conspirators share so much as an excited glance. We dress in our running clothes like normal. Brush our teeth like normal. Pull our hair back like normal.

How funny that I'm finally back to normal and everything else is totally screwed up.

We take off on our run, and I pay particular attention to where I place my feet. No broken ankles for me. I can't fail Kyle yet.

The snow has picked up but only slightly. It's a crappy day, cold and humid. If I believed in omens, this would be a bad one.

Delivery trucks roll into camp early Monday mornings, bringing a new week's supply of perishable foods. I never paid attention before, but I do today. What do the people down in Devor—the nearest town—think of the camp? What will they think in a few hours? What will Malone tell them as they begin a manhunt for us?

Assuming we get that far. Maybe I shouldn't be so presumptuous.

I pay attention to everything this morning—the air settling in my lungs, the way the wet flakes stick to the trees like melting sugar, the RedZone logo on a guard's jacket sleeve that, for the first time, makes me think of blood stripes. I watch the kitchen staff step outside for a smoke break, and the maintenance men lug bags to the dumpsters. I wonder how many of them know what RedZone truly is. How many believe the lie. How many will end up dead like Sarah Fisher if they discover the truth.

When we finish our run, I walk over to Cole. The rest of our group of six finds excuses to linger outside, stretching, discussing the snow, retying their shoelaces.

“Fearless leader, do you know if Malone's around? Last night I got back my memory about the tracker. I think he should know ASAP.”

Lying to Cole kills me. But then, it's for a greater good. It's about serving my country. Protecting innocent lives. Saving Kyle.

Whatever. Cole should understand, or he would if I had the chance to properly explain everything to him.

He breaks into a glowing smile, and I am utter slime. Pond ooze that deserves to die in the sun. “Sev, that's great. What happened? No wait, you probably shouldn't tell me first.”

Cole gets out his phone, and I hold my breath. Last night, I decided this would be the best method. If I can get in to see Malone officially this morning, our group will have an easier way to time our escape. The timing part is crucial. If Malone doesn't go for it, we'll have a lot more guessing to do. Our odds of success go way down.

I try not to fidget but put some urgency in my voice. “Tell him it's important. I was right about Kyle being in danger.”

Let Malone draw his own conclusions. Maybe he'll think the actual CIA got hold of me. Whatever it takes to get his attention.

Cole speaks softly into the phone, but I hear Malone's voice. He's intrigued but confused. “Tell her to come by in an hour.”

That's a little too early. It's 5:40 now, and Kyle doesn't go anywhere until seven. But maybe Malone plans to keep me in his office when it happens so it'll be over before I discover Kyle's gone. I'll have to improvise when I'm there.

My stomach continues to flail about all morning, but I ignore its complaints and stuff it with eggs and oatmeal. If we fail, this could be my last meal.

I need to stop the
if we fail
business.

At 6:35, I get up, casually mentioning I'm off to see Malone about my memory. Jordan taps the table once with her finger, the signal to start our internal timers. Octavia gets up too, saying she's not feeling well. As we split near the living quarters, I tell her I hope she doesn't have the stomachache I had last night. Then I continue toward the main building, and she goes into our quarters where she'll get her laptop, lock herself in the bathroom and begin taking down security.

So I hope.

One-hundred-ninety-three seconds to get to the main building. On my way there, I see a plain white van sitting outside Building Two. Kyle is probably being kept in the basement of Building Two. I've never been down there, but I know the path the guards will use to bring him to the van.

As for the van itself, the camp has several of them. I've never thought much of them before, but now I recognize them for what they are—prisoner transports. There are no windows in the back. No identifying markings.

I put the van out of my head and swipe my thumb to enter Building One. The security guard at the monitors pays me no mind. One-hundred-ninety-six seconds.

Malone's assistant waves me toward the elevator. Two-hundred-two seconds when the doors close.

I'm outside Malone's door. Two-hundred-thirty-nine seconds.

He greets me with a fatherly smile when I enter. His fair skin shows its age today. Circles rim his eyes. I hope he had a late night last night. I hope he slept as little as I did. But I damn sure hope that, whatever kept him up, he wasn't as productive as I was.

“Seven, please.” Malone gestures to the familiar chair with one hand. In the other, he holds an insulated mug. Coffee, not tea—I can smell it. He's hitting the hard stuff. “You remember what happened with the tracker? Does this mean all your memories have returned?”

He sounds so pleased with me. To think—he wants to scramble my brains later today.

“I did. They are.”

Please be quick, Octavia.

Malone settles back, clearly waiting for me to elaborate.

“To give you the whole sense of what's going on, I need to start the night before the tracker came out.” I purposely rub my neck and rush onward. “Like I told you, I discovered Kyle was X on Friday when he got injured. When that happened, a couple of his friends ran to find some bandages or first-aid supplies, although Kyle was insisting he didn't need them. But when his friends returned, they didn't bring supplies with them. They brought one of their track coaches who was at the dance.”

I stress the word “coaches” like it's something sinister. It works. Malone hasn't taken another sip of his coffee. I've hooked him.

“This coach helps Kyle bandage his hand, even though there's got to be nothing left to bandage by that point, and he acts like there's nothing weird going on. So then it occurs to me that this coach is new. He's only been at RTC as long as I have…”

I go on, spinning my tale, turning an imaginary track coach into a mysterious threat, all the while silently counting the seconds. I tell Malone that after the dance, I discover someone had searched my dorm room. I start to wonder if it's been bugged and if there's malicious software on my phone too. Therefore, I don't dare call the camp immediately. I'll get Kyle away from RTC tomorrow, then “borrow” a phone to call in.

Time check: I've been in Malone's office five minutes and seventeen seconds now.

Get on with it, Octavia.

We must have been followed, I continue. I have a bad feeling and want to get Kyle away, but he's stubborn.

My story has more holes than a donut shop, but I'm starting to enjoy myself as I tell it. As usual, the
doing
has a wonderful calming effect on me.

“And the tracker?” Malone says. The lines on his forehead warn me that he's not buying my story, but he still hasn't touched his coffee. He's curious and willing to play along.

“Getting to it. So I don't want to leave Kyle's side, but he insists he needs to use the restroom. I wait outside and that's when—”

Malone's desk intercom goes off.

Oh, THANK YOU, Octavia!

“Sir, our security system just went offline,” comes the voice. “We think we have an external breach.”

Octavia made it look external? Damn, she's good.

Instead of grinning for joy, I fake surprise. From the corner of my eye, I check the camera hidden behind the mirror over the sideboard. There's a second one, too, over the door. In theory, both should currently be useless.

“What about the backup system?” Malone asks.

“Also down. We're attempting to contain the problem, but there seems to be some sort of virus corrupting the entire network.”

Malone's face is stony. “Work faster. Are we in lockdown?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then hurry and get the problem contained. I have a busy morning.” Malone switches off the intercom, and I stand.

“Should I go?”

He looks at me, rubbing his chin. “No. Give me a moment to deal with this.”

I nod dutifully, but the second Malone reaches for his cell, I spring. He goes flying into the wall as I tackle him from behind. The phone skids across the floor.

Must not think. Must act. Must not be emotional Sophia. Must be HY1-Seven.

Before Malone can fight back, I knock his head into the floor, and he goes limp. I bind his hands with a zip-tie Jordan once stole and hid in preparation for such an occasion. Then I try to ignore the blood rolling down his forehead.

Malone's out now, but he'll come to quickly. I get on his computer and look up how to initiate the override. It's a simple sequence, but it requires his fingerprint as the last step. Great.

He's one-hundred-sixty pounds of dead weight on the floor, but his eyes are already fluttering open. I start dragging him to the keypad then realize my stupidity and bring the keypad to him. The monitor flashes with INITIATING.

Malone's intercom goes off again. “Sir, did you override the lockdown?”

Malone stirs. I clamp one hand over his mouth and press the intercom with my other. “Yes, he did, but he's on the phone. He wants you to get back to work containing the virus.”

I let go of Malone and rummage through his desk. I either need keys or something with which to pick the closet lock. Oh, and duct tape for Malone's mouth and ankles—that would be good too.

I find a loaded .38 first. Well, that's something. I hesitate for a second, glancing between the gun and Malone's head.

Malone is a lying, thieving, murdering bastard. Of all the people I've hurt or killed, he's one I could be certain actually deserves it. Besides, shooting him would take care of the problem of him regaining consciousness. Seven wouldn't hesitate.

But Sophia does. The gun is a lead brick in my hand, and my hand is already coated in blood. If I shoot Malone, I will only be doing what he created me to do, and Sophia is no one's weapon. Nor will she be RedZone's tool.

Also, shooting Malone would be noisy. Yeah, way too noisy.

It's all the excuse I need to reconcile my debate. Maybe that's a mistake, but I'll cling to the noise concern as a reason not to shoot a defenseless man.

I double-check the safety then tuck the gun into my waistband since I have no place else to put it.

Time check: running low. Need to move faster.

Ah, masking tape. Better than nothing. I wrap a lot around Malone's ankles. He murmurs at me, his words slurred. I don't take the time to understand. I'm not interested.

“Remember, I could have shot you and I didn't,” I say, fishing through his pockets for the keys. Got them at last. I open the closet, but my backpack is gone. I kick the wall in frustration. There's no time for this. We have this escape planned out to the second. “Where is it?”

The question is only partially directed at Malone. Alertness has returned to his eyes, but I'm not expecting an answer from him. I'm hardly a model soldier worthy of help.

He answers anyway. “You're making a mistake, Seven. A huge mistake.” His voice is raspy and cold—a shark's voice if I ever heard one.

I return to his computer again, searching for my backpack's new location. “Because I'm not letting you erase my memories? I'm not letting you hurt Kyle like you did his mother?”

“Kyle holds the key to immortality. I'd have shared that with you. I could have made you unstoppable.”