Gravity (The Taking) (7 page)

—J

I stare at it, trying to analyze the words as though something more could come from them. I have no clue what he means. I click to discard the note, hesitate, and archive it instead.

My alarm beeps. 11:59. I lie down but don’t worry about my patch. I didn’t even check to see if it was in the case earlier. It’s pointless now.

The window keypad
ping
s, and I force myself to draw a long, steady breath.
Relax-relax-relax-relax
. I repeat the mantra over and over, hoping the word processes into my subconscious, because inside I’m beyond vexed. Something tells me tonight will change everything.

Wind blows in through the now-open window, sending a mix of pine and honeysuckle into the room. Goose bumps form over my skin. I wait for Jackson to start the Taking, but the warmth never comes.

“Ari.”

I ease my eyes open to see him sitting beside me. He looks so comfortable. He
always
looks comfortable, like nothing or no one could ever rattle him. I wish I were that way.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“We need to talk first.”

I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms tightly around them. “Fine, talk. Let’s start with the attack. You knew didn’t you? Why didn’t you stop it? Those people…the children.” I glance away to keep my eyes from brimming with tears.

“Yes, I knew.” He drops his head. “And I already told you; I can’t stop this. The attack was minor. It was a warning for things to come if Parliament continues to refuse coexistence.”

“Refuse? That’s always been part of the treaty. I thought—”

“No. Everything you’ve been told is a lie.”

His words feel like a slap in the face, and I shake my head in disbelief. It’s not possible. But the address…Zeus walked off the stage. Still, Dad wouldn’t lie to me.

“He would and has. All the top leaders know.”

I jump up. I hadn’t said anything out loud. “Stop doing that. How are you doing that, anyway?”

Jackson shrugs, continuing to look at ease. “Sorry, I can’t control it. I’m usually better at hiding it. All the RESs are equipped. It’s a device implanted into our hearing system. It reads worry and stress in your tone and word choices, then transmits the reading into data.”

“So you hear my thoughts?”

“No. It’s more like an educated guess based upon your stress reading. I’m just better at it than most.”

I freeze. My arms drop like noodles to my sides. “Most. Did you say ‘most’? The rogue Ancients. They aren’t rogue, are they? Zeus sent them, like he sent you. This isn’t happening.”

“Ari…”

“No, stop. Just stop.” I pace the room, my mind a whirlwind of puzzle pieces that I can’t make fit. There are more questions than I can focus enough to articulate, but one holds strong in my mind. I have to know. I pause in front of him, closer than I normally stand to anyone, but I want to be sure I hear his answer. “What do you want from me?”

For the first time, he looks away. He scratches his chin and rakes a hand through his hair. Then in a flash, he’s beside me. He grabs my hand, and I’m sucked through a tunnel. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. “Jackson!” I scream. A hand clamps over my mouth.

“I asked you not to scream,” he whispers.

The pressure locks over my chest and lungs. My eyes feel like they’ll pop from their sockets. I bite his hand, but he holds tight. Then the pressure is gone, and I’m standing in an office, an office I recognize. Dad tells someone to come in. President Cartier enters followed by Zeus Castello. They look angry, but Dad, like Jackson, never appears rattled.

Dad scribbles a note and then peers up at them. “Thank you for coming,” he says. “I’ve reviewed the information you provided, Mr. Castello. Unfortunately, our Chemists disagree. It is not yet time for coexistence. We will notify you when food supplies can support both species.”

“Food supplies!” Zeus grabs hold of his chair. “
We
provide your food. We have kept our end of this agreement.” His voice shakes and he stutters, “A-a-greement, the harmony of opinion, action, or character.” His face relaxes, and he draws a deep breath before continuing. “Our kind, sir, became fully acclimated two months ago, yet you still refuse. What is your game, Commander?”

I glance nervously at Dad, but before I can hear his response I’m yanked back, the force pressing all the breath from my lungs. Bile climbs in my throat. Tears leak from my eyes. Then I’m stumbling backward onto the floor of my bedroom.

Several seconds pass before I open my eyes. Jackson is curled on the floor, white as paper and covered in sweat. His body spasms. I rush to him and check his pulse, which is racing in his veins. I run to my bathroom and soak a cloth with cold water. When I return, he’s sitting up. I kneel beside him and press the cloth to his forehead and neck. “Are you all right?” I ask, then, realizing what I’m doing—or rather who I’m doing it for—drop the towel into his hand. He looks so much like a human that my instinct to help those in need must have caused me to move before I could think.

He nods. “Just…need…a second,” he whispers. Neither of us speaks for a minute or two. Jackson opens his eyes and gazes into mine. “Thanks for this,” he says, lifting the towel in his hand.

I pull away but stay seated on the floor. “What did you do to me?”

He draws a breath. “Recollective transmission. I showed you a memory that was shown to me. I knew that was the only way you’d believe me. I haven’t transferred to a human before…well, since the last time.” He smiles again. “It’s exhausting. Your minds are more skeptical than ours. It requires more energy to implant the memory.”

I think back to what I saw. “So you’ve acclimated to Earth?”

“Yes. Our bodies function very much like yours now. Our antibody levels are strong. We’re ready.”

“And we’re refusing to let you come here permanently.”

“Yes. The memory I transferred happened four months ago. We’ve been told to continue the Taking until coexistence is agreed upon. But as you saw, negotiations have not gone well.”

“But according to the treaty, failure to comply with coexistence will spark a—”

“War. Yes. We are a peaceful species, Ari, regardless of what you’re told. Even Zeus doesn’t want a war, but I can see this hardening him. He sent a formal ultimatum, which has gone unanswered. The attack today was nothing. A warning. He sent additional RESs a month ago. We’re stationed at different areas, all given one goal—find out their strategy.”

“And an RES is…?”

“Republic-Employed Spy.”

Spy. So I was right. That explains the Operative thing. He’s already an Operative…just not for humans, and he wants my help.

He leans closer to me. “Look, we don’t want a war. We want to live in peace. Here. Coexisting. Just like we were promised when we first agreed to the treaty. We need information on the strategy, information that could be used to force your leaders to relent. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

“Why me?”

“What can I say? I like you.” He smiles.

I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”

Jackson rakes a hand through his hair, showing his discomfort at the question. “You’re smart, strong, and I can tell you don’t necessarily agree with everything here.”

“Look, you don’t know me. You don’t know what I think or feel, so don’t—”

“Don’t I? I’ve known you for seven years, Ari. I know you. Maybe better than you know yourself. And I need your help. I’m asking you, please. Help me prevent this war.”

I place my head in my hands. I need to think. “Let me make sure I understand—you want me to lie to my dad, turn my back on my species, my people?” I glance through my hands. “Surely you get how crazy that sounds. I’m the future commander, Jackson. Do you really expect me to trust an Ancient over my own family?”

“No, but I hope you’ll surprise me.”

CHAPTER 6

The next morning I sit on Gretchen’s bedroom floor while she surfs through dresses on her T-screen for the upcoming Trinity Masquerade Ball. It’s a huge ordeal, celebrating the rebirth of Earth after World War IV. Everyone will be there, including the leaders from each of the governing countries around the world. After we signed the treaty, our leaders of the time quickly met and decided that part of what caused our past wars was the issue of differing governments. They created the Trinity and set up one in each of five regions—Asia, Africa, Australia, Europe, and the Americas. The Australian Trinity has since been dissolved, thanks to the last leader being unable to have children to continue the legacy of the founding Australian leader. That region is now controlled by the African Trinity.

The ball itself is usually all social, though I have to wonder with everything going on with the Ancients if it has always been a ruse to get the leaders all together.

Gretchen, Lawrence, and I usually go together, but this year, Lawrence and I are expected to go as a couple. At first, I felt sick knowing that I would have to tell Gretchen that she couldn’t come with us, that we’d have to meet her there. Remembering the conversation still makes me want to throw up. But with what all I’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours, I don’t have the brainpower to worry about anything else.

I still don’t understand why Jackson sought my help. Surely Lawrence—the future president—would have been a better choice. Regardless, he did and now I have to decide—help Jackson and prevent a war, or turn him over to Dad and possibly assist with the wipeout of humankind. Saying it in my mind like that makes the decision appear so easy, like whether to eat or breathe, basic life stuff.

It isn’t easy. It’s impossible.

Gretchen selects another category of dresses. The program pulls up a virtual version of her body and then crosschecks the perfect dress color, length, and shape, making sure not to duplicate any purchases in the last two years, then gives her fifty options. Each dress appears on the virtual Gretchen, and within a second she’s clicking for the next to appear.

She no longer lets me choose mine by myself, and instead chooses one for me and then just calls me over to approve the purchase. Any other day, I might protest or at least be annoyed that I have to sit here while she shops, but right now I’m just thankful to be around normal people with normal problems. I want so badly to confide in her.

My training was canceled this morning. Mom and Dad were both gone when I woke up, handling the repercussions from the address last night. Already the news has reported protestors popping up across the city. President Cartier is supposed to speak tonight to reassure us—yet again—that everything is fine.

But it isn’t fine.

“Hey, are you all right?” Gretchen says from her closet, now dressed in her fifth outfit for school.

“Yeah.” I bite my lip. “Just thinking. What was up with Zeus last night?”

“No clue. Probably angry about something. I’m sure they’ve worked it out by now.”

I hesitate. I want to tell her everything, to tell her they haven’t worked it out. I want to ask her advice. I want someone else to come up with the answer of what to do. But I can’t. I’m in this alone. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, and she goes back to choosing her shoes.

I think about Gretchen, my best friend since forever, totally mollified by President Cartier’s assurance that we’re safe now. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen if I won’t or can’t help Jackson. But I can’t help him.

My dad would disown me. Jackson has to understand.

Another round of excuses courses through my mind, then the memory of the burned land and orange sky finds its way to the surface and I feel sick and guilty all over again. Every time I think of why I can’t help him, I see the Ancient attack or Zeus yelling at Dad. This is so much bigger than me. It’s not my fight, not my place to second-guess Dad.

That is my logic as Gretchen and I walk into school. I wonder if Jackson will be waiting at my locker for his answer. I thought about it the entire ride to school. I can’t help him. I’m preparing to tell him just that when I round the corner to my locker, but he isn’t there. I breathe a sigh of relief, open my locker, and almost miss a letter falling from inside. It’s paper, like paper-paper. Barely anyone uses paper anymore. I lean in closer to the letter and read:

If you’re in, meet me at Parliament HQ’s servants’ entrance.

8:00 p.m. Bring a flashlight.

—J

Below the line is an arrow pointing to the right. I flip the letter over and nearly drop it to the ground. It’s a copy of a letter signed by Zeus. At the top are the words P
RIME
T
ARGETS
and below is a list of ten names. The first name is Grexic Alexander. I stifle a gasp. Dad is their main target. It’s too much. I can’t…

“Hey, what’s that?” Gretchen asks, reaching around me for the letter.

I jerk back, shove the letter into my locker, and slam it shut. Thankfully she can’t open it without my keycard. I flash her the most innocent smile I can manage. “Just a note from Dad. Top secret. You know how he is.” I hold my breath as I wait for her response. That’s what sucks about best friends—they know when you’re lying.

She starts to ask more when I feel a tingling awareness at the back of my neck. Jackson steps up beside me. He stands close, too close. Close enough to divert Gretchen’s attention from the letter to him.

“Hey, there,” he says to me, his eyes filled with concern.

“Hey,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.

“Will you be there?”

I look into his eyes, my mind replaying everything that has happened over the last twenty-four hours. I don’t want to believe him, but there’s too much evidence. The rising number of Latents. The attacks. Zeus walking off the stage. And it’s only going to get worse. I can feel it deep in my gut, that horrible feeling we’re all programmed with. It warns us, and right now mine is screaming at me to do something. I can’t just hope this goes away. We have to stop it before it starts. I don’t know if Jackson overestimates the Ancients or underestimates us, but I do know they have abilities and advanced technology far beyond anything we’ve even considered. Jackson said this wouldn’t be a war; it’d be the complete wipeout of humankind. I won’t let that happen.