Z 2135 (19 page)

Jonah tried to keep his knee from bouncing as he sat in the small, windowless, gray-walled cell.

Nervousness was the last thing he wanted them to see, knowing his every movement was captured by the tiny camera in the corner. He didn’t know why they made the cameras so small—it wasn’t as if they were actually hidden or like every person who had ever come into the checkpoint Detainment rooms didn’t know he or she was being recorded. It was like The State believed that by shrinking intrusions, or making them less conspicuous, people wouldn’t mind as much.

The orbs had picked up on Jonah’s odd pattern of walking, and sent a rookie Watcher to bring him in for questioning. The first round went nowhere. His ID checked out for now, and they had nothing on him but a peculiar gait. Jonah knew the drill. They’d send a career Watcher in next, to see what he could draw to the surface.

Jonah was agitated, not that he had been caught per se, but that his being sloppy and getting nabbed could possibly prevent him from seeing his son in The City, or keep him from getting back to Ana. They were all that mattered, the only reason he had gone to Hydrangea—then back behind The Walls—in the first place.

The only reason Jonah hadn’t already found a high place from which to jump.

He wondered which Watcher would come into the room for further questioning. He hoped it would be someone he was friendly with from back before his world went to hell, ideally one of his old men. Yes, there was a higher chance of them seeing through his disguise, but at the same time, he felt that loyalty, even among Watchers, had to count for something, and there were a few who would still help him. Maybe. If the risk weren’t too high. But the way The State liked to shuffle things, moving people from sector to sector seemingly at whim, there was no telling who would show.

Jonah got a chill, thinking of Keller, imagining him entering the holding cell with his serpent’s smile, sauntering over and sitting across from Jonah—too close the way he liked to get, face bloated from gloating. He’d already been thrown to The Games as an example to The City. The State couldn’t admit there was no City 7, so Jonah could imagine what sort of torture and torment he’d suffer if found out.

He reasoned that Keller wouldn’t be coming, though. If Keller knew Jonah was in The City—if the guard had seen through Jonah’s disguise—then he wouldn’t be alone in Detainment, sitting in one of the small cells just miles from the Precinct. Jonah would be surrounded by half The City’s orbs and locked up in the City Watch’s tower prisons.

The holding cell opened and sure enough (because sometimes the world was still good) one of his old men stepped through the door. Sam Fogerty, a good guy. He was an old-school Watcher. Jonah once thought the man saw the world through too harsh a lens; now he wondered how Fogerty would see things if he knew the truth.

The old Watcher didn’t even look at Jonah when entering. Jonah’s heart pounded, and he wondered if his disguise was too thin to keep him covered. Fogerty finally looked up at Jonah, then
into
him, recognition barely perceptible, but there.

Fogerty didn’t so much as do a double take.

Good man.

For the first time since being led to the holding cell, Jonah felt an honest ray of hope. There was a chance that he would be leaving the cell soon, finding his way to Adam, Katrina, then Ana. In the last six months, he had been wrong more than right, but Jonah felt certain that Fogerty wouldn’t throw him to the wolves.

The old Watcher rolled his eyes up and right, indicating the camera.

“ID,” Fogerty said.

Jonah held up his wrist, and Fogerty scanned it. He said, “State your business in Municipal.”

“I’m a doctor,” Jonah said. “I was checking in with Clinic 14 because one of the physicians, Dr. Blair, was ill. When I got there she was fine, so they sent me home.”

Fogerty’s face was stern, eyes smiling.

“You were a ways from Clinic 14 when you were picked up. Why?”

“Just wanted to walk. I live in the mids, and don’t get down to the street much. I’m on sub call, so if no one’s sick, I’m home all day. I was happy getting out of the apartment, so once I got sent home it was the last place I wanted to go. Figured I’d walk awhile instead.”

Jonah spoke in a tired rasp, worthy of a man who felt crushed by his day to day.

Fogerty turned his body so he was half facing the camera. Eyebrows high he blurted, “Hey, I remember you! Were you the doctor called in on sub for Clinic 11 back in March, when that toddler took a nasty spill at Grassland?”

“That was me,” Jonah nodded, cocking his head and feigning embarrassment.

Fogerty nodded. “Got it, right. Sorry we pulled you in; plenty of heat on the streets right now. It’s time for vigilance. Know your neighbor and all that.”

Fogerty tapped the wall pad for less than a minute, scribbled a few lines on his clipboard, hung it on the wall, unlocked Jonah’s cuffs, then opened the holding-cell door and waited for him to step through. The Watcher then led him outside the room, down a short hallway, and out to the front desk.

“You’re free to go,” he said, then turned and started to walk off without ceremony. Six steps away he turned back.

“Wait,” Fogerty said. “Do you have a way to get home?”

Jonah shrugged. “No, but I can walk, that’s OK.”

“No,” Fogerty shook his head. “Jensen, the good doctor here was detained by mistake. Do we have anyone who can escort him home?”

“Never mind,” Fogerty said before Jensen could answer, glancing at the clock. “I’ll take him.” He turned to Jonah. “I’m done here. Give me five and I’ll take you. Not far, right?”

“Right,” Jonah agreed. “Long walk, short drive.”

Jonah waited an excruciating 10 minutes (each felt like a hundred) for Fogerty, who then returned to the lobby seeming agitated—his usual look, though it felt to Jonah like it was for show.

“Follow me,” Fogerty said, walking by Jonah.

Outside, the old Watcher seemed adolescently happy. “Good to see you,” he said, under his breath just seconds outside the doors. He walked for another half minute, back turned to Jonah, then pointed to an older cruiser and said, “We’re in that one. Camera inside’s been broken for three weeks,” then opened the driver’s side door. Jonah climbed in the passenger’s side and closed the door behind him.

Fogerty said, “Where to?”

“You’re smiling?”

Fogerty laughed. “I’ve never seen a ghost. Feels damn good to know they exist.”

“It feels good to be a ghost,” Jonah laughed. “So, can you take me to The Quarters?”

“Sure thing.” Fogerty sparked the engine and pulled out of the lot.

City 6 had no better hiding spot than The Dark Quarters, since far fewer orbs, which were expensive to maintain, patrolled the area.

“Where we going in The Quarters?”

“To Marquis Odenkirk.”

“No shit,” Fogerty slapped the steering wheel. “
Just
saw Marquis and, no shit you’re not gonna believe who I was with. It’s what I’ve been dying to tell ya. You’re never gonna guess.”

“I have no idea.”

Jonah had never seen Fogerty so giddy. “You’re never gonna guess,” he repeated.

“Captain Republic.”

“Would you believe me if I said little Adam Lovecraft?”

“No shit,” Jonah growled. “That was you? Marquis told me he saw him on a ride-along. Didn’t know it was you. Never thought to ask who the Watchers were, I was so pissed that Adam was cozy with Keller.”

“Whoa, relax, Jonah. It’s a good thing.”

“Convince me.”

“We were going into The Quarters to look in on a murder during Adam’s ride-along. Pimp named Little Mitch cut a whore up. It was connected to Beans, so worth the meddling. Your kid was a star, Jonah; you would’ve been proud. He’s growing up nice. Keller’s taking him on like his own, which is why he got a ride-along after only just starting Cadets.”

Jonah cut in, furious, wanting to punch the cruiser’s window. “Adam’s
not
Keller’s kid, though. He’s
mine
.”

“Look, Jonah, I get it,” Fogerty said, trying to use a tone that might balance out Jonah’s vehemence. “Keller’s a throbbing cock of unholy proportions, and I’m sure he fucked you good. I’ve known you since you were a Cadet, and I know you didn’t do nothin’ to Molly. I imagine you want to kill Keller, and I get that. I would too. Especially if he was stepping in for my kid when I couldn’t. But I’d hope to have a friend like me—a friend with the balls to say what’s what. And you know
what’s what
, Jonah?”

“What, Fogerty?” Jonah said through gritted teeth.

“Your boy is fine with Keller. Better than he was, or would be, at Chimney Rock. Better than he ever could be. He’s learning smarts and discipline, and doing great. By all accounts he’s happy as he can be, you know, considering. What are you going to do? You can’t give him any of that and you know it. If you really want what’s best for Adam, let him have it. I know it’s tough, I get it. But you’ve gotta let it go. Do what’s best for Adam.”

Jonah was silent. Fogerty added, “Cadets made you who you are. You’re only alive right now because of the skills you’ve learned over a lifetime. Be a man, Jonah:
want
the same for your boy.”

Jonah didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say—Fogerty was right.

They rode the remainder of the trip in silence. When Fogerty dropped Jonah in The Edge of The Quarters, Jonah thanked him and said he owed the old Watcher more than he could know.

Jonah looked up at the darkening sky and asked, “What time you got?”

“Six forty.”

“Shit. I forgot something,” Jonah said. “Could I ask you for one more favor?”

“What’s that?”

“I was supposed to meet Dr. Liza Goelle at seven. Could you bring her back to Marquis’s shop without anyone connecting you to her?”

“No problem,” Fogerty said. “See ya soon.”

Fogerty left him with a two-finger salute through the cruiser window before flipping it around and driving away from The Quarters.

Jonah walked three miles from The Edge to Marquis’s market. It was late and the streets were busy. Everything seemed somehow darker than before: sky, buildings, and people.

Jonah went to the market’s rear, and into a room where Katrina and Marquis were playing cards. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Katrina looked up.

“This asshole is a cheater,” she said. “Why are you friends with him?”

Smirking, Marquis said, “It ain’t never cheating if you don’t get caught.”

Katrina dropped her cards on the table and looked up at Jonah. “Did you see Adam?”

“No, and I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

Though he lived in The Quarters, Marquis managed to eat only high apartment rations. He made sure Jonah left with a pack full of meals he’d remember for a while, then gave Katrina a pack of the same. He winked, saying he hoped it made up for his cheating and that they could play again next time.

Dr. Liza showed up at 7:10 p.m., seeming apprehensive.

“You ready to do this?” Jonah asked.

“I’d be lying if I said yes. But … yeah.”

Jonah smiled.

They thanked Marquis before heading into the secret tunnel under the market and through the bowels beneath City 6.

As Jonah made his way out of The City, he couldn’t help thinking about his conversation with Fogerty. He
was
glad Adam was OK. Fogerty was right about at least some of what he had said. Still, Jonah looked forward to the day when he could return to City 6 and take his son back on the other side of The Walls with him.

First, though, he had to make sure his daughter was safe.

Liam plodded through darkness, searching for Ana. The forest bellowed whispers, but every minute or so he chanced the flood of zombies anyway, drawing a gust into his lungs, then unleashing his trumpeted cry.

“Ana!”

Another few steps, then “Ana!”

A rustle ahead grabbed his attention. Liam was certain he saw Ana in the distance, so he moved fast to reach her and risked another call.

“Ana!”

He walked faster, pursuing movement. Whoever was ahead—it had to be Ana—rushed away when he called.

“Ana! You don’t have to do this!”

His chest felt hollow. He thought of her invisible message of one gun missing:
Have to die, Liam. Sorry. Not in front of you. Going out to the forest. Thanks for everything. See you in City 7.

When he saw Ana was gone, he grabbed an energy blaster, threw the pack over his shoulder, and raced through the forest. It was too dark to follow a trail, so Liam chased instinct, running behind a ghosted scent of Ana that he kept telling himself was real. It had to be, since otherwise he had nothing.

He kept moving, grateful he’d yet to hear a gunshot’s thunder, knowing that until he did, Ana was still with him and waiting to be found.

Again, to hell with the zombies.

Liam called out, “Don’t do this, Ana! You don’t have to. There’s another way. We can find it together!”

He was screaming loud now, and certain the zombies had to be coming. Let them. At night their hunger was worse, but at least his eyes were smart in the dark, like his brain. He figured—because he had to—that being human gave him an advantage in the dark.

There was no room to think otherwise. Liam had to stop Ana from meeting her intentions; he was the only one who could. After everything that had happened, Liam could never go to Hydrangea without Ana, let alone look Jonah in his eyes and admit he couldn’t protect her, that he was a failure as a man: to Chelle, to their baby that The State aborted, to The Underground he betrayed, and to everyone and everything that had ever placed their faith in him.

Even if there was no hope, even if he had no Jonah to greet, Liam couldn’t let Ana die alone. That was no way to go out, not for anyone, especially not for someone like Anastasia Lovecraft—true and honest, better than Liam in every way.

The rustling ahead seemed louder, and Liam figured he was finally catching up with Ana, but after another minute of running—and seeing regular movement ahead, the crashing through shrubs as Ana kept rushing forward and ignoring his calls—Liam also heard new sounds from both sides, around and behind him.

He tightened his grip on the gun as noise ahead grew louder, more insistent as Liam came closer. He saw the sway of a low branch and smiled—he was seconds from reaching her. If it was, in fact, her.

Liam hurled his body the last few steps toward Ana. When she was a few feet away, nearing a clearing, he called out, “Ana! Please stop. I want to help you, I
can
help you. Please let me.”

Ana turned around and Liam nearly crashed into her.

As he gained his balance, he saw it wasn’t Ana.

It was a zombie, a girl wearing tattered light-colored clothing stained with blood, turning around and stepping into a sliver of moonlight that seeped through a split in the canopy of trees above. She growled and snarled, lashing at Liam.

Holy fucking shit!

Liam stumbled backward, managed an about-face, then took off running in the other direction, wondering how long he had been chasing the zombie rather than Ana, if he had ever been pursuing Ana at all.

Liam ran without any real direction, suddenly scrambling, unsure of where to go. He was angry that he’d followed the zombie for so long thinking it was Ana. He had to find her, but he couldn’t search as effectively when focused on running. He felt an overwhelming urge now that he
had to
go back and kill the zombie behind him just to clear his head.

Swallowing fear and nursing courage, Liam spun around and ran for the zombie. He didn’t slow at all when he reached her, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her down to the ground, and slamming her face first into the forest floor. He got up and then started kicking the back of her skull, once, twice, and then repeatedly, even though its brain was now bloody bits of mush gumming his boot.

Liam stood above the zombie, slowly catching his breath. He perked up his ears for Ana, heard nothing, listened harder, then took off toward the forest’s only sound. A minute later he nearly ran into a pack.

The group was small, about four strong, but the moon had dipped back behind the clouds, and Liam could see almost nothing. The trees were too thick to let much light in anyway. Most of what Liam could see was the thin blur that his eyes had already adjusted to. One miscalculation—thinking there were four when there might be five, focusing on the zombies in front of him and not staying aware of what might be at his sides, engaging in a spot where it was too dark to win—and Liam would surely end up dead.

He wanted to take out this pack, but his odds were poor. He slowly backed away instead, unsure whether he’d been spotted. Liam stepped back and onto a branch. It snapped so loudly, it might as well have been a tree crashing to the forest floor.

Shit!

Liam couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like all four zombies turned at once. He ran, and as he did more zombies crashed through the woods behind him, calling to their brothers in hungry pursuit.

Sounds were everywhere, but none were coming from Ana. He had to get clear of the danger and find her. He could turn and shoot, empty his gun and maybe clear the threat from behind him, but then he’d be running without ammo, and with even less direction than he already had. If he ran too far in the dark, he’d get turned around, unable to find Ana and powerless to help her.

The forest got louder as more zombies spilled into hazy shapes in the dark, circling, narrowing his choices and chances to nothing. Liam screamed in desperation, hoping to scare the shapes away, and wishfully thinking that Ana might hear him if her part of the forest was anywhere near his.

He could feel their motion and had no choice. The zombies were on him. If Liam didn’t turn and shoot, he would never have the chance. They would be on him, and he would be dead.

Liam spun, sighted, and squeezed the trigger.

Despite the overwhelming darkness in front of him, Liam’s first blast slammed into the nearest zombie’s forehead, and sent it flying to the ground. Liam pulled the trigger four more times and dropped a pair from the pack, but it wasn’t enough. There were more, countless more approaching, shadows within shadows.

Liam fired blindly into the pack. He had six shots left in the energy clip before he’d have to replace it. But the clips were in the bag. He had no way of getting to them to refill his blaster before he’d be torn to shreds.

He had to start running again.

Now.

Liam raced blindly into the dark. He made it about nine feet before he felt the first hand, lunging from the shadows, brushing him on the shoulders as he passed. He cried out but kept running.

The world was a chaos of darkness and limbs—both of trees and zombies—kicking and punching and snarling. Gnashing teeth. The stench of rot all around. If Liam were capable of surrender, he would have already relaxed and let the inevitable wash his body. But Liam hadn’t admitted defeat when sent to Chimney Rock, or when he was told by The State that he couldn’t have a child with Chelle, or when he was thrown to The Games, or when he and Ana found themselves surrounded by the largest group of bandits he’d ever seen.

Defeat had no chance now.

He would fight until—

Liam was thrown to the ground.

Undead bodies piled on top of him, clawing and gnarling. He kicked, screaming, desperate to break free.

There were too many.

Weighing down on him, keeping him down.

Must.

Break.

Free.

But he couldn’t.

He reached up with his blaster, tried to squeeze, but it was yanked from his hand with a savage swing.

This was it.

The end.

A shrill scream rang through the forest, so loud that Liam could easily hear it over the mass of groaning, snarling bodies on top of him. They heard it too. Movement paused as if lured by the sound.

Liam wondered why they cared about far-off prey when they had some on the grill already, but figured it must be his lucky day as he wiggled from their pile, breathlessly, carefully, barely standing as a dream come true approached.

The scream’s source.

Ana!

Are you crazy?

The zombies started toward her.

Liam grabbed the blaster from the ground, and pulled the trigger three times, taking out the two zombies closest to Ana. He ran behind the others, to their right, and screamed, “Run! Over here, Ana! Run to me!”

She was moving too slow and the zombies too fast. They were everywhere, surrounding her in an instant, and there was nothing Liam could do.

He dropped his bag and was about to grab more ammo when he realized that the zombies weren’t attacking her.

They were clustering around, just as they had done with him a moment before. But they weren’t trying to kill her. Their heads were turned, regarding her, as a lion might examine a new feline entering the pride.

What the hell?

Ana moved toward Liam, walking a straight line, slow and steady, pushing through the growing horde that was still spilling out from the forest—as if she didn’t care if they killed her.

Ana was usually fearless, but this was something else. This was suicidal. But given that she had probably run off to kill herself, maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised.

Yet, he was. It was one thing to blow your brains out, another to greet a horde of zombies without flinching.

Whatever the bite had done to Ana, it seemed to also make her immune to their threat.

Liam stared, astonished. He walked toward Ana, and as their distance narrowed she held her arms apart, palms up and facing him. She held his shooter in her right hand, and handed it to him. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears. Her lips quivered.

He took the shooter, then her hands, and pulled her body against him. Zombies made noises around them, but none growled or gnashed like before.

Liam felt certain one of the growing horde would swipe at him, her, or both of them, but they seemed unwilling, staring at them as if awed or confused. It was impossible to see intent through their vacant stares.

The largest zombie growled at Liam as he and Ana moved through the crowd. He ignored it. They kept moving away from the horde, neither speaking as Liam tried to remember how to get back to their camp, and tried not to notice her scorching hand, burning his.