XOM-B (15 page)

I watch the glowing blue numbers scroll past, my eyes slowly widening with each floor passed. “It’s too quiet in here.”

“The Masters used to play music in elevators,” Luscious says. “Though they generally complained about it.”

“Music!” I say with a rush of excitement. “Councilman Mohr, have you heard music?”

“Yes, Freeman, I have.” He doesn’t seem nearly as impressed by it as I am. “I’m not sure you’re ready for—”

“You wouldn’t have thought Freeman ready for anything he’s encountered in the last day,” Heap says. “But he survived. And is well.”

Mohr looks from me to Heap, and I sense a trace of annoyance in his body language, but after a moment, he nods. “A worthwhile observation.”

Luscious taps my shoulder while unclipping a pocket over her chest. She reaches inside and tugs out a small device that I quickly recognize as the music player. I quickly take it from her and fumble with it, unsure of how to operate the device. She laughs, which is almost like music, and grapples with me for the device.

“Like this,” she says, toggling a small switch and then operating the touch screen with her finger.

“What are you two doing?” Mohr asks, his annoyance seeping into his voice. I’ve never heard him talk in these tones before, but I’m barely hearing him.

“Okay,” Luscious says, “this is the play button. Just tap it gently.”

I follow her instructions, tapping the small triangle with my index finger. Music suddenly fills the small elevator with the sounds of violins and the voices of the Masters. The sound is smaller and metallic sounding compared to what I heard in Luscious’s apartment, but I understand that the sound was amplified there. I’m about to announce my wonderment, but the music affects Mohr almost violently.

A spasm twists through his body, spinning him around and throwing him against the elevator doors. His arms reach out as though to block our exit despite the fact that we are still in motion. Floor 156 and rising. One thousand five hundred and sixty feet. Another thirty seconds gone by.

“Shut that off!” Mohr shouts. He looks more afraid than angry.

“Why?” I say. I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to hear this.

He reaches out for the device in my hands and I snap it back out of his reach, a move that surprises us both. Mohr looks momentarily confused, but then looks up at the rising numbers.

“Freeman, please,” Mohr says, turning his pleading eyes back to me. “Not everyone here appreciates the memories conjured by things like music.”

I switch the music off right away. “I’m sorry if it upset you, Councilman.”

“Not me, Freeman.” He points to the device in my hands and then to Luscious. “Quickly, give it back. Do not take it out again. Not while you’re here.”

I hand the music player back to Luscious, who tucks it back into her front pocket and buttons it closed. “If you are searched, destroy it before it’s found.”

“I
won’t
be searched,” Luscious says.

Mohr tilts his head slightly, squinting at Luscious for a moment.

The doors slide open silently behind Mohr. I didn’t even notice the elevator slowing down.

“Librarian,” a deep voice says. Once again, Mohr spins around, this time tripping over himself and falling over. Heap and I quickly catch him, sparing him further embarrassment.

“Everything all right?” asks the man in the doorway. Much of his body is covered in deep red armor, like Heap’s, but smaller, like overlapping plates of rigid skin. With a glance I can see that he is equally protected, but has a far greater range of motion than Heap. For a moment, I wonder why they haven’t upgraded Heap’s armor, but decide it’s because of his size. Even the back of the man’s head is armored. Everything except his face, which is stern. Almost grim. Which I suppose makes sense given what’s happening in the world.

“Fine, fine,” Mohr says, straightening himself. “We’re all fine, Sir.”

“Councilman Sir!” I say, stepping forward with a smile and a hand extended in greeting. “You’re the only Councilman I have yet to meet.”

Sir looks down at my hand, but makes no move to take it. In fact, he sneers a little. “An offensive custom,” he mutters.

I withdraw my hand quickly, realizing that hand shaking must have been a custom of the Masters. Like music.

Sir scans my body, bottom to top, looking me over like I’m some new piece of equipment. It’s unnerving. No wonder Mohr was nervous.

“So this is Freeman,” Sir says. “The man that will be better than us all. Kind of skinny.”

The way he says these words leaves little doubt that he’s quoting somebody. Probably Mohr. They also leave little doubt that he disagrees with the assessment of my potential, as do I.

“I’m not better than anyone else,” I tell him, hoping my agreement will cool him off.

“Humble, too,” Sir says, turning to Mohr. “You must be so very proud.” He looks beyond Mohr, to Heap. “I’m actually impressed with you. Wouldn’t have believed you could make it out of the Lowers, past the barricade and all the way through the city to our doorstep. And yet here you are.”

Heap just frowns. I’m not sure why until I realize that Sir has just implied that he knew we were being attacked and did nothing to stop it. This, I decide, is a dangerous man. Avoidance seems like the best protocol for dealing with him, and I’ll put the plan into motion just as soon as he allows us out of the elevator.

“A lot of it was Freeman,” Heap says. I think Heap is trying to improve my standing with the man for some reason, but I wish he hadn’t because the words turn Sir’s hawkish eyes back toward me. “He’s quick. And his reflexes—”

A red fist flies toward my face. For a moment, it’s a blur. Then it comes into focus and I can see every notched ridge of armor covering the fingers between his knuckles. Then it’s lost again, whooshing past my right ear. By the time I lean back up, I realize that Sir has just tried to punch me in the face.
Tried
being the interesting word. He missed. Not because he has bad aim. He doesn’t. I suspect the punch could have done serious damage. Maybe even killed me. But I dodged the blow by simply tilting my head to the side.

I see the fist pulling back for another strike as a second cuts through the air toward the side of my head. I lean back, bending my spine just enough so that the clenched fist slides through the air just millimeters from my nose.

The first fist comes in again, and is harder to dodge this time, but I manage it once again. More punches launch toward me, each faster than the last until we’re both blurs of motion. In the chaos of the moment, he changes his stance and style. The shifts confuses me for a moment and I see the fist approaching my face too slowly to dodge it.

So I don’t.

I catch it.

“Stop!” I shout.

Sir listens, locking in place, eyes on our joined fists. For a moment, he looks angry, but then, for the first time since the elevator doors opened, he grins, and it’s somehow worse than his grimace. He pats my shoulder with his free hand and says, “You might be worthwhile after all.”

“That was … a test?” I ask. I’m familiar with the concept of rigid testing to discover limitations. My first five days were spent undergoing tests directed by Councilman Mohr, but none of them would have killed me had I failed.

I glance back at Heap. He didn’t budge. But was that because he fears Sir, or believed I was capable of passing the test? Did he even know it was a test? More unanswered questions.

My thoughts are pulled back to Sir when he twists his fist inside my still clenched hand. The motion turns my arm—

—revealing the bite.

19.

Sir releases my arm and flinches away as though repulsed by a magnetic force. Based on our brief interaction I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but for a moment, he looks terrified.

And then outraged.

“You brought an infected into the Spire!” Sir looks past me, to Mohr.

“I—I didn’t know,” Mohr says to Sir, and then to me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Security,” Sir says, almost quietly, like he’s talking to someone next to him. “On me. Containment three.” He looks at Mohr. “Make that four.”

“I was bitten,” I say. “I’m not infected.”

“He’s not symptomatic,” Heap says.

Mohr whirls around on him. “You
knew
?”

Heap nods. “I saw the bite mark and have observed his behavior since. He’s—”

“Resistant,” Mohr finishes, sounding hopeful. “His systems are different from ours. More resilient.” He turns to Sir. “This could be the answer. If we can identify what makes Freeman immune, then we could inoculate—”

Sir holds up his hand, silencing Mohr. “We have a long history, Librarian. We disagree about much, but you have never endangered our plans.”

I suspect that “our plans” should be reworded to “my plans” but keep that to myself.

“The mod was bad enough,” Sir says, glancing at Luscious. “But allowing someone carrying this … plague into the Spire comes dangerously close to undoing your perfect track record.”

Mohr bows slightly. “Understood, Sir.”

How can he just take this?
I wonder. The disrespect and belittling tone is almost unbearable. The only thing keeping me from defending Councilman Mohr is the fact that I think his acquiescence is planned rather than a true fear response. While Sir is intimidating and dangerous, Mohr is undoubtedly the more intelligent of the two.

“I will be more cautious in the future,” Mohr says, raising his head back up.

Eight security guards approach the elevator. Their armored bodies are black and sleek like the exterior of the Council tower. In some ways, they remind me of the giants from outside, but their armor, like Sir’s, is less bulky, and their faces are concealed behind flat sheets of reflective black glass. After they stop in unison, the nearest of them says, “Sir.” I’m not sure if it’s a customary greeting or a way of asking for orders, but that’s all the man says.

“Put them in cells,” Sir says.

Mohr looks shaken by this. “What?”

Sir offers a phony grin. “Just a precaution, old friend. Once I’m positive there is no danger of the virus spreading, you’ll be released.”

“Yes,” Mohr says, sounding defeated. “Of course. You’re right.”

Though he’s not. From what I’ve seen, a simple touch cannot spread the virus. A bite is required. And since I’m the only one with bite marks, I’m the only real danger … and I’m no danger at all. But there has to be a reason for Mohr’s agreeability, so I offer no protest.

“Search the three of them,” he says, pointing at Heap, Luscious and me. “Full-body scans. If you find signs of infection, get samples and incinerate the carrier.”

Despite how horrible this is, none of us complains, in part because it’s probably the right thing to do—I’d rather melt than become an undead monster—and since I’m
not
infected, I have nothing to fear.

For the first time since the doors opened, we’re allowed to step out of the elevator, but we’re quickly separated. Each of us is sandwiched between two guards who are careful not to touch us, but prod us along with the tips of their guns, which appear to be smaller versions of the railguns powerful enough to punch through buildings. The weapons seem a bit heavy-handed, but I imagine the effect of a single well-placed shot on a horde of undead and decide I would like to have one.

We’re led down a slightly sloped, white hallway. There are no lights to speak of, but the floor, ceiling and walls, which appear to be matte glass, glow from within. The illuminated surfaces stretch out twenty feet ahead of us and twenty feet behind. The rest of the hall is unlit. “Efficient lighting,” I observe aloud.

Nobody replies.

The hallway ahead glows gently to life as we approach, revealing two paths. Sir, who is leading our parade through the empty halls, pauses, turns on his heels and points to Heap and me with one hand. He points to Mohr and Luscious with his other hand and then motions to the two halls. As we’re led in separate directions, Luscious finds my eyes. She’s afraid, but trying to hide it. Then she’s gone, out of view.

“Don’t worry, Freeman,” Mohr says, as he’s moved away. “I’ll make sure she’s treated well.”

I nod my thanks and then we’re separated by the wall.

Sir stands his ground, watching Heap and me get led away. Then he calls after me. “Sentiment will get you killed, Freeman. Makes you weak. If you’re going to serve any real purpose, you’ll need to remember that.”

I stop in my tracks. The guards prod me to keep moving, but they’re afraid to touch me and as a result, can’t force me to move. “Fear makes people weak.”

Sir stares at me. Then he grins. “Is that one of Mohr’s lessons?”

“I learned it out there,” I say, pointing toward the wall, implying the outside world.

“Freeman,” Heap whispers. A warning.

“A life lesson, then?” he says.

I nod.

“You’ve lived a very short life, Freeman,” he says. “I hope you live long enough to see your theory disproved.” He waves his hands in the air, dismissing us.

The guards rib me with their weapons, which I notice are starting to glow orange. I hold Sir’s gaze for a moment longer and then turn away, not because I’m afraid for my life, but because I’m afraid for my friends. I know this is exactly what he was talking about. Had I not been afraid for Luscious, or even Heap, I would be free to act in any way I choose. I might even be dangerous, like Sir. But I can’t imagine that kind of life. Fear without companionship. Without love. It seems a pointless existence.

No wonder he’s miserable,
I think.

As we’re led down the hallway, I watch Heap’s dark blue armor shift as he walks. The white glow of the hallway accentuates the scratches and teeth marks covering his body. Though he might not admit it, Heap is more like me than Sir. He’s a warrior for sure, but he was willing to give his life for mine. And I don’t think it’s just the way he’s wired. I think we’re friends, and that means something.

Of course, our relationship is also more complicated than I knew.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew I’d been bitten?” I ask. The guards all look at me, but don’t reply. For a moment, I expect them to order silence, but they just watch me with their blank faces.