Revolution (Replica) (19 page)

It went without saying that Nate and his friends did not join in the stomping or cheering, though from what he could tell they were the only ones not participating. Even Shrimp was stomping one foot to the beat, though he was also saying something under his breath to Agnes, who stood nearest to him.

Maiden sauntered casually into the center of the circle, followed closely by two of his enforcers. He looked down at the motionless figures at his feet and smiled, the gleam in his eye proving how much he enjoyed flaunting his power.

“Ladies first, don’t you think?” he asked the crowd, who responded with another resounding cheer.

One of the enforcers bent down and grabbed Kitty’s arm, hauling her up and over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. She didn’t have enough control of her muscles to scream, but a piteous mewl of pain and terror escaped her.

“Remember one thing,” Kurt whispered in Nate’s ear. “This isn’t the first time Maiden has done this, so Kitty knew exactly what she was risking.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Never said it did.”

Somewhere amid all the spikes, there were restraints within the iron maiden, and Kitty was strapped in, unable to resist. The other enforcer grabbed her accomplice’s arm and turned him so he was facing the iron maiden and could see the fate that awaited him.

Nate was shaking, and he held on to Kurt’s hand so tight he hoped he wasn’t hurting him. Nadia was clinging to Dante, but from the looks on their faces, Nate thought she was giving
him
support rather than the other way around. Agnes stood close to Shrimp, but he wasn’t touching her. Nate surprised both of them by reaching out and grabbing her hand. She shouldn’t be the only one of them to watch this without the comfort of another’s touch. Her face didn’t reveal much about what she felt, but her hand was ice cold and clammy.

Maiden put his hand on the lid of the iron maiden. There was a long, dramatic pause. And then he slammed it closed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Everyone
was heartily sick of everyone else’s company, but there was no bickering in Shrimp’s apartment that night. They stayed together—except for Shrimp, who went out on his nightly reconnaissance mission—but no one felt much like talking. There was a lot of staring moodily into the flames of the flickering candles.

Nate had expected it would be the executions themselves that haunted him when it was all over, and to be sure, he would remember what he saw for the rest of his life. But he found the crowd of onlookers had chilled him more, with their stomping and cheering. There had been little old ladies and five-year-old kids out there, shaking their fists in the air and screaming for blood.

The Red Death might be providing Nate and his friends with safety and shelter, but they were definitely
not
the good guys. Nate was beginning to wonder if there
were
any good guys in this whole mess.

His faith in humanity slipped down another notch when Shrimp returned from his venture into the free territories and told them what he’d seen.

“The roadblocks are now semipermanent blockades,” he said. “They’re not letting anyone in or out, not even medical staff or delivery trucks. I missed the worst of it, but there was still some rioting going on when I passed through. Security ain’t shooting to kill, but rubber bullets and tear gas ain’t gonna calm things.”

“No delivery trucks?” Bishop said, shaking his head. “You mean they’re not even stocking the soup kitchens?”

Shrimp nodded. “That’s what I mean.”

No wonder there was rioting! The “grocers” had no doubt been stockpiling for a long while, but they were more likely to up their prices based on increased demand rather than start feeding the people who no longer had any access to food.

“How can she be getting away with this?” Nadia asked, and Nate had to wonder the same thing.

The Chairman of Paxco had more power than any three other Executives put together, but it was hard to imagine even the Chairman could withhold food and medicine from the unfortunates in the Basement. Surely
someone
on the board of directors would object and do something about it. Not even the most corrupt of the Executives Nate knew would condone starving people.

“What is happening out there?” Nate muttered to himself. If only they had access to the net! It was helpful to get Shrimp’s reports of what he saw out in the Basement free territories, but with the lack of net access and the blockades, it was impossible to know what was going on in the rest of Paxco.

“Dorothy has no concept of conscience,” Nadia said. “It doesn’t matter to her if people die, as long as her own position is secure.”

“Yeah, I think she’s made that quite clear,” Nate said with a hint of impatience.

“But real human beings aren’t like that,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Even the most selfish, bigoted, uncaring despot would think twice about doing the things Dorothy is doing.”

Unless, of course, Dorothy was spreading misinformation.

“Maybe that bit we saw on the news where Dorothy said she cut off phone service to calm unrest was just the tip of the iceberg,” Nate suggested. “She created a video of me shooting my father. How hard do you think it would be for her to manufacture evidence that the situation here is getting dangerously unstable? That it’s become too dangerous for Executives and Employees to set foot in the Basement? And with no phone service and no one able to get in or out of the Basement, who’s going to be able to prove her wrong?”

“And now that she’s provoked riots,” Nadia said, “she’ll have even more ‘evidence’ that the Basement’s too dangerous for anyone to go into.”

“And the board will be willing to condone even more drastic measures,” Agnes added. “They can probably be convinced the Basement’s on the brink of starting a full-scale revolution and marching Executives to the guillotine.”

“She may not be all wrong,” Shrimp said. “I didn’t stick around to get the details, but Angel seems to be up to something. She closed down her club, but there’re still lotsa people going in, and a lot of them are carrying boxes—the kind guns’re packed in.”

“That’s the kind of thing
we
should be doing,” Nate said. “Instead of sitting here like ducks in a pond waiting to be shot, we should be organizing, banding together against Dorothy.”

“I hear you,” Shrimp said. “And I’m glad Angel’s trying to get people together. But Maiden still ain’t gonna go for it.”

“Do you have any idea how bad it’s going to get here when the food starts running low?” Agnes asked. “Maybe he doesn’t care about anyone but the Red Death, but surely—”

Shrimp shook his head and cut her off. “Have you guys listened to yourselves? You sound like nut jobs talking about this crazy computer trying to take over the world and replacing people with puppets. You wouldn’t get halfway through your story before he’d laugh you out of the room.”

There was no way Nate could deny that it sounded pretty crazy. Angel had had a hard enough time believing it, and her role in the resistance said she was far more civic-minded than Maiden.

“Do
you
believe us?” Nate asked.

Shrimp thought long and hard before answering. “Yeah, I guess I do. But it ain’t gonna help. Even if he
did
believe you, Maiden wouldn’t care. He’s already announced that if anyone from the Red Death joins in the rioting, he’ll personally shoot them dead. He figures as long as we keep out of it and mind our own business, we’ll keep out of trouble.”

“But—” Agnes tried to interrupt.

“The way he sees it, if other gangs get sucked into the fighting and start getting themselves killed, it’ll be a great opportunity for us to get more territory.”

“I don’t understand,” Agnes said as her eyes filled with tears. “How can someone see what’s happening and not care?”

Shrimp’s face hardened and he sat up straighter. “’Course you don’t get it. You grew up with mansions and money and all that shit. Pokin’ your nose in other people’s business was a way of life. Well, it ain’t like that in Debasement, and you’d better get used to it.”

The angry words made Agnes flinch, but though Shrimp had to have noticed, he didn’t take back what he’d said, nor did he look any less pissed. Always before, he’d seemed surprisingly accepting of his Executive guests, never showing that he felt the same kind of anger and resentment Basement-dwellers often displayed toward Executives—when they weren’t trying to get money out of them, that is.

Shrimp pushed to his feet, scowling. “Don’t forget this is all one big business transaction,” he said. “You get exactly what you pay for, no more, no less. And you’ll be lucky if Angel keeps paying for
anything
much longer.”

With that, he stormed out of the living room. Moments later, his bedroom door slammed behind him, signaling how thoroughly finished he was with the conversation.

*   *   *

The
next week was brutal. Shrimp still went out every night to check the pulse of the Basement, but every night his route became shorter and shorter as the food supplies started dwindling and the rioting worsened. By Tuesday, he didn’t dare enter the free territories anymore because of the rioting, and Maiden’s enforcers no longer cruised the streets, instead parking themselves around the borders of Red Death territory to defend their turf.

Nadia got used to hearing gunfire in the night. The violence was still mostly in the free territories, but according to Shrimp, it was spreading. If some of the most well-armed gangs got swept up in it, the Basement could turn into a bona fide war zone.

The news helicopters didn’t show up at the scene until Thursday, which Nate and Nadia both agreed was evidence of how Dorothy was controlling the story, not letting reporters get any live pictures until the Basement was a full-on battleground. Footage was no doubt being shown all over the world, but instead of the story being about the drastic and immoral actions Dorothy was taking against the Basement, it would be about a beleaguered Chairman trying to restore order to her rioting slumlords.

The tanks made their appearance on Friday.

No one could safely leave Red Death territory anymore, so there were no firsthand accounts of what was going on. However, Maiden had a generator hookup in his apartment—one that he used only sparingly, because he had a limited supply of fuel—and Shrimp had watched some news coverage on his brother’s hijacked cable feed. Aerial footage showed the tanks rolling into place behind the now solid barricades that cut off the Basement from the rest of the city. They weren’t firing yet, but the news now described the violence in the Basement as a “revolt” rather than rioting—just as Agnes had predicted.

Every night, Agnes pleaded their case to Shrimp, persevering in the face of his snappish answers. She and Nadia agreed that his anger was
not
fueled by class friction, as Nate assumed, but was in fact a symptom of guilt. Shrimp
knew
they were right, but he was still convinced Maiden would have no interest in casting himself and the rest of the Red Death as heroes of any kind.

“What the hell is it you think we can do, anyway?” he asked one night in exasperation. “Sure, we have guns. But they have
tanks.
”

“We can reach out to my father,” Agnes answered quietly. Once she’d gotten over being hurt by his anger, she’d become a real pro at absorbing it without a blip of response. Even when he shouted, her voice and demeanor remained cool and controlled. “There’s no way my father or anyone outside of Paxco knows what’s really going on here. If they knew Dorothy provoked the rioting, the whole world would be putting pressure on her to stop it. Maybe even military pressure.”

Nate and Nadia shared an uneasy look, but both kept their mouths shut. It went against everything in Nadia’s upbringing to encourage a foreign power to invade Paxco, but how else could Dorothy possibly be removed from power? Even if Maiden and all his fellow gang lords could agree to work together for a higher cause, Shrimp was right and they’d be nearly helpless in the face of an organized military action.

“Your dad thinks it’s worth getting his own people killed to help a bunch of drug dealers, whores, and gang lords?” Shrimp said, regarding Agnes doubtfully.

“Synchrony’s Basement is nothing like Paxco’s,” she explained patiently. “My father
does
care about Basement-dwellers, a hell of a lot more than any of Paxco’s Chairmen have. And don’t forget,
I’m
here. He won’t want me in the middle of a war zone. If the only way to stop that is to send in peacekeeping troops, he’ll do it.”

“You
have
to see where this is going,” Nadia put in. “They’re parking tanks on the borders! How long do you think it’ll be before those tanks are rolling down the streets of Red Death territory?”

Shrimp made an incoherent sound of frustration. “It’s not
me
you gotta convince. It’s Maiden. And Maiden ain’t budging.”

Agnes put her hands on her hips and glared. “So what you’re telling me is that your brother would rather let Dorothy raze the Basement to the ground than let me use his fucking phone?”

Everyone did a double take at Agnes’s language. What had happened to the timid, shy, painfully polite Executive she had once been?

Shrimp’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and after seeing what Maiden had done to Kitty and her accomplice, Nadia couldn’t blame him for not wanting to cross his brother.

On the next night, a new and unexpected voice joined the chorus.

Angel, accompanied by three of her bouncers, had apparently come to talk to Maiden, but Maiden had refused to see her. She knocked on the door of Shrimp’s apartment just before he was set to go out for his nightly patrol. He politely invited her in while insisting her goons wait outside. Angel obviously felt safe with him, because she didn’t bat an eyelash before accepting his invitation.

“Nice to see you kids again,” Angel said insincerely as she sauntered into the living room, looking them over one by one.

“Can’t say the same,” Nate grumbled, getting an elbow in the ribs from Bishop for his trouble.