daynight (24 page)

Okay, now I’m really tripping. She looks like she wants to eat me whole. The feelings thing freaked me out, but now she’s decided I’m the only future that will ever make her happy? No expectations there, buddy. I am so freaking screwed. The pressure cooker is going to explode because I can’t take any more. I inch back a bit and open my mouth to speak, but she closes the gap and puts two fingers to my lips to silence me so she can continue.

“I’m really, really sorry to dump all this on you. I know it’s so unfair given what I did with Tristan last morn, even if I don’t remember it. But I don’t want him. I want you, really, really want you. So badly that I’m not sure I can hold back from kissing you and feeling you in my arms, even if that means they Exile me for Adultery.” She leans forward, pushing me back against the cement, stretches her body atop me and stares at me with those freaking gorgeous eyes before pressing her lips to mine. Stopping her action isn’t possible because my body takes control from my brain. I roll her underneath me and return her kisses with fervor, thankful for the relative darkness of our location. It’s not nuclear bomb action, but man it feels good.

After mere moments she pulls away from me, a fearful look in her eyes. She rolls out from under me and sits up to canvass the scene.

“Why haven’t they come to get me?” she says, panicked. “What I did was cause for immediate Exile. I don’t get it.” She looks to me for answers.
 

Not quite in control of my faculties, I stand and face her. “Uh, uh, uh,” I say. My heart pounds harder than it would with a fast run up a steep canyon. Suddenly, a huge grin washes across her face.

“Actually, that’s a lie,” she says. “As was the majority of the tale I just told you. But, I think I should let you try to sort out what’s fact and what’s fiction. Kind of like you let me do. But, then again, your story this evening was all fiction.”

“Oh crap. You figured it out.” I finally say, a sheepish gape plastering my face. “Of course you did. You always do.” I pause to let it sink in. “But, you retaliated. With kissing?”

“All part of the revenge plan,” she says. With a laugh she adds, “And, well, you seemed to rather enjoy that part.”

I can feel the blood rush to my face. “That kiss sure felt real, whether it was part of your wicked plan or not. In fact, it was pretty hot.” I can’t believe I just admitted that to her.

She bites her lip and looks at me through her long eyelashes in a fairly coy fashion that has me wanting to grab her and repeat the act in question. “I’m a
very
good actress. But anyway, it’s time to go work out,” she says, pointing to her watch and hopping up. “Don’t ever lie to me again, Blake, or we’ll have some real issues. I’m sure you meant it as a joke, but you let it go too far by letting me leave our house thinking I was Cleaved to Tristan.”

“It wasn’t a joke. If you want me to be honest, I’ll be honest. I was trying to hurt you, because you hurt me. You promised you’d have my back no matter what, but completely cut me off and acted like you hate me. And then after nights of nothing, you freaking tried to seduce me into Cleaving you last morn after I pried that jerk off you. And,” she cuts me off before I can tell her that she called me Ethan. Ethan! How and where did she meet him? We are always together. And yet, somehow she met the guy and he made enough of an impression that she’s begs me to Cleave to her thinking I’m him. Her eyes go wide and she perches her hands on her hips like chicken wings.

“In my drug-induced state I try to get you to Cleave to me and somehow that warrants you telling me I’m Cleaved to Tristan? That’s seriously deluded thinking. I never said I hated you or didn’t have your back,” she says.

“You just went all psycho clingy chick on me! You seriously freaked me out,” I mumble. “You told me I was completely freaking responsible for your future happiness.”

“You did tell me I was Cleaved for life to my dead ex-boyfriend and doomed to stay here on Thera. I think a little payback was in order and I didn’t let you suffer near as long as you let me suffer,” she says, pausing as if to think again. Her lips part slightly and all I can think about is how I’d like to part them with my tongue. Get it together, dude. You need her back on your side. And not by using your rusty seduction skills.
 

“I just need to know if you can get past everything I omitted before we came to Thera,” I say.

She paces back and forth for a minute before answering. “I’m not happy, but I do get why you did what you did and I can probably even get past it. And I am super grateful to you and Bri for getting me away from Tristan before things did get out of hand, because if what you lied about had come true, I would have done something extreme to get Exiled, whether it meant my death or not. And despite your many, many, many faults, I do have feelings for you, but what are they? Like? Hate? Distrust? Fear? A bit of attraction? All those?” she says, counting off each one on her fingers, pausing between words. “Heck, I don’t know.” Thank goodness she left ‘love’ off the table.

“Now
that
is something where I can say right back at you.” No need to tell her that I might order the list a bit differently, but I’d replace the attraction with plain old lust and put it at the top of my list. In fact, something Bailey mentioned about whipped cream, cherries and hot fudge could sweeten things up at home with Kira.

“Okay then,” she says. “Let’s go exercise.” Not what I had in mind, but I guess we can revisit this particular action-packed conversation later.

“Okay then,” I respond, and we slowly march up the hill towards the gym. “One question though. Why’d you call me Ethan? How do you even know him?”

“Ethan?” she says, stopping cold and turning towards me. Even in the darkness I can see her face go pale. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” I mumble.

“Do
you
know an Ethan?” she asks.

“Well yeah. The Intern dude. I’ve run into him a couple times,” I say.

“There’s an Intern here named Ethan? What does he look like?” she asks.

“A little taller than me and a couple years older. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Looks like he could shave multiple times a day and still have stubble. Really into some chick he met at a party,” I say. She looks like she might faint. “So you know him?”

“Huh. I haven’t run into an Intern named Ethan on Thera,” she says, but she won’t look me in the eye. Her head is twitching ever so slightly. Can’t tell if she’s shaking it or having some sort of seizure. So she doesn’t know him? I’m so confused.

“So why’d you call me Ethan?” I say, repeating my question.

“Sorry,” she says, completely turning away, feet moving. She doesn’t explain any further.

A muted explosion in the distance catches my attention, the light from it appearing no brighter than a bottle rocket set off on the Fourth of July. Had I not been trained to expect it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed, given the canyon light show. Kira didn’t seem to. I try to gauge the exact direction, and my best estimate without a compass would be that it had been launched approximately three to four miles northeast of our current location. Without question, this means my Dad has returned to Thera and is stationed at a resistance camp he’d established in anticipation of my deployment here.
 

Because of the changing tides and steep cliffs descending to the beach his team determined the Eco barrier to be weakest at the Northeast corner. The location had added benefits of harboring no Garden City population, only the desalinization plant to the immediate south, and main port further south of that. If I memorized the city model correctly, the canyon we live in meanders that direction before exiting through a narrow passage into the ocean just north of the desalinization plant. So, technically, I could skate the distance, jog the beach and get within shouting distance of my father. I’m sure he is expecting this.

The last time I’d discussed the plan with my father was after we’d met with Ted to sign the SCI paperwork. Ted had explained the nuts and bolts of what to expect: a week of training, followed by meeting the Second Chancers, and settling into our role as fellow students and amateur psychologists. Given the SCI’s strong interest in Kira and me due to our DNT levels, Ted thought they’d go all out on selling the Garden City experience. The hope was that we’d be given access to the scale model of the city, which they’d use to sell career options, but is actually used to track residents and plan the Eco barrier pattern.
 

My father once toured the Garden City model and the night he’d visited a munitions’ specialist happened to be testing a section of the detonators used in the model, which release harmless gas. They’d been having some issues with small animals on the Eco barrier and wanted to make some tweaks to improve the system to only detonate at certain weight levels. My father saw a pattern in the triggers, but at the time had no reason to commit it to memory, having been early in his career when he was still gung ho on the SCI vision.

Several vantage points from the scaled city were predicted to give me a reasonable ‘aerial’ view of the model Eco barrier, and its chemical detonators. The triggers had been painted to mirror the soil color, but had a different sheen. So, in the right lighting, the pattern could be discerned. Their prediction held true. While Kira had been occupied checking out her DNT under the microscope, I picked folks to chat with who had the views I needed to figure out the pattern, confirm it repeated, and note some landmarks where the pattern stopped and started. So, I’d already completed one task.

Neither my father nor Ted mentioned the existence of the other city models, so either they are newer or a well kept secret within SCI ranks. My father assumed I’d have to get the other patterns out of the data center at headquarters, but what if I could get into the models instead? I haven’t figured out how to defeat the SCI tracking system yet, though, and if I can’t the SCI would know if I was anywhere near a sensitive area. I believe they inserted the tracker the moment we’d entered Thera with the shot they gave us, but it’s also possible the tracker’s in our watch. Ted thinks they may have redundant systems in place to ensure they don’t lose anyone.

I, and by extension Ted now that he’s on Thera, have also been tasked with assessing current security levels and weak spots citywide, determining whether a weapons stash exists and where, and ideally figuring out how to turn off the Eco barrier altogether. Permanently disabling the gas triggers would be ideal, but even if we could disarm them temporarily it would give time for the Exilers to infiltrate the city.

It’s close to final exam time. And, if the actual final exam trumps the simulated one my dad gave me, I could be in trouble. I need to find a way to stack things in my favor fast.

I learned the layout of SCI headquarters
during my training. My father worked within those walls for years before happening upon a whole lot of information he wasn’t supposed to and getting booted. We spent the summer after my sophomore year of high school in a full-scale mockup of the building. The building sat atop a series of old mine tunnels, which my father used to approximate the secret canyon tunnels that lead to the headquarters. Mind you, he’s never been in those tunnels, but promises they exist and will provide my only entry short of becoming a member of the Grand Council and inheriting a passkey, or getting Cleaved on my eighteenth.

My ‘final test’ of that summer was to get from my ‘school residence’ to the protected server bank in the Grand Council building, through pitch-black tunnels, locked doors and a half dozen security guards. He hired some ex-military buffs to play the tunnel security goons. They reminded me of my dad’s Militant buddies—single minded and lethal. No question my dad wanted to show me my inadequacy for the task, so I stacked the odds in my favor with a little creativity—or as some might call it—downright cheating.

The night before the test I told my dad I was going for a run to calm my nerves, knowing he’d never deprive me the opportunity for more exercise. My eight-mile loop took me through an occupied horse farm we’d driven by upon arrival two months earlier. I circled the farm to confirm its occupants were away, and then broke into a locked bin in the stables where, even better than hoped, I found injectable horse tranquilizers, a tranq gun, and what appeared to be an anesthetic. The key would be to use my stash in moderation as to not kill anyone, although a prison life sentence might be preferable to my dad’s plans for me. I kissed my treasure before stuffing it into the lining of my running shorts and jogging back. The four miles back home proved to be a little uncomfortable, as my loot chafed some rather sensitive areas.

First up on test day was locating the entrance from my digs to the tunnels. Officials use the tunnels to check up on kids during sleeping hours, scan for illegal paraphernalia and other rule violations, restock cupboards, and the like. Invisible to most, they present a huge security hole to the enlightened. I’d pretended to sleep, listened for the monitor to enter and from where, and after they’d left it took me less than twenty minutes to find and open the hidden door behind the bathroom cabinet.

Once in the tunnel, I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness before proceeding. Light on my feet, I jogged through the hot, musty passages, keeping an ear out for guards. The first was stationed at an intersection of pathways. I watched as he shifted his focus to each path every twenty seconds, giving me only twenty seconds with his back to me, and forty with his attention directed elsewhere. Dressed in black, with a dark hood obscuring my face, I inched towards him. As he turned to the passage to the right, I quickened, and by the time his back was turned to me, I’d pressed the horse tranq in a third of the way, before removing, capping and shoving it back in my pocket. I couldn’t use the gun for the first couple doses or I’d likely kill the guys, so close encounters were my only option.

The dude didn’t drop lightly, or quickly. He fought me for a good thirty seconds before tanking, nearly crushing my windpipe when he clipped my throat. I knew how to take hits and was able to absorb the blow by buckling backwards and rolling to the side. After catching my breath, I launched up, slamming my head into his with massive force. Full credit had to be given to the drugs because he was moving pretty slowly by this point. His reaction time withered and within a minute he dropped. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I disrobed the guy, donned his uniform, stuffed my tools into my new pockets, and took the path to the left, running full speed.