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Authors: Kirsten Miller

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How to Lead a Life of Crime (29 page)

BOOK: How to Lead a Life of Crime
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“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I told you about my mother for a reason. So you’d know that I had one too.”

What is she trying to say? Joi knows nothing about my mom. Does she think my mother was anything like the saint she just described? Joi’s mother never abandoned her. Her mother didn’t swallow an entire bottle of Valium. Her mother didn’t follow one son to the grave and leave the other all alone in a world filled with monsters. Her mother didn’t disappear without saying goodbye. The way my mother did.

I wish I could be like Joi. So trusting. So hopeful. I suppose I was once, a long time ago. When I was little, I really believed that my mother, brother, and I would manage to beat the monster one day. We’d find a place to hide where we couldn’t be found. Because Jude and my mother were the heroes of my story. And in every story I’d ever read, the good guys always made it out alive.

“I don’t understand,” I tell Joi.

“I do. I understand everything now. I know why you came here, Flick. If I got a chance, I’d try to hurt your dad too.”

“That’s why I came. It’s not why I’ve stayed.”

“I know. But maybe it’s time for you to go.” Joi dips her hand back into the bag and pulls out the last file. “I added another name to the list we gave Curly. This one’s for Peter Pan.”

I can see my father’s name on the label. But I won’t touch the file. “I don’t want it.”

“I read it, Flick. There are pictures, too. I’ve seen what your father did to the rest of your family.” She can’t stop the tears now. “Jude looked just like you.” Her last sentence is almost a wail.

“Jude is dead. So is my mother.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. “There’s no way to help them. I need to stay here with you now.”

“You can’t!” Joi sobs. “This is your last chance. I can remove your chip tonight. If you leave this weekend, your father won’t know you’re coming. After Monday, he’ll be expecting you. He’ll be prepared.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

“No, it’s not! You have to go, Flick.”

“What about Gwendolyn’s execution? What about the show I’m supposed to put on Monday night?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll figure something out. I can handle the rest of this on my own.”

“I know you can,” I say. “But I’m not going to let you. My family is gone. You’re my one good thing now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DINNER FOR TWO

T
he entire school has turned out to watch me kill Gwendolyn. Dinner has finished, and there’s an hour left before curfew. The battle will take place at the bottom of the atrium. Ghosts and Androids encircle the second-floor balcony. The Wolves will be allowed a ringside view. As far as I know, there are only two exits on the school’s ground floor—the front door and the service exit. They both remain locked throughout the day. But that doesn’t pose much of a problem if you happen to have the headmaster’s key.

Joi and Mandel spent the holiday weekend planning the spectacle. Every detail was decided in advance. Gwendolyn and I were both met outside our sixth-period classes by teams of Wolves dressed in black, their faces hidden beneath executioners’ masks. They escorted us to our rooms, where pristine white outfits were laid out on our beds. Once we had dressed, we were taken to the ground floor. Two chairs had been placed in the center of the atrium, right above the words Luctor et emergo.The Wolves strapped our wrists to the arms of our chairs, then blended back into the shadows. Ella was left to guard us.

We’ve been sitting here for over four hours. A couple of spectators have kept us company the whole time. Everyone has seen us, and now they’re all back. The wait has been much worse than I anticipated. Gwendolyn keeps rocking in her seat and whispering to the walls. She won’t obey Ella’s orders to be silent. I can’t bear to look over at her. Her eyes are glassy, and there’s a huge patch of hair missing on one side of her head. I managed to ignore her whispers for the first hour or so. But they’ve crawled in through my ears and they’re starting to eat away at my mind.

I’m on the verge of screaming when I see one of the elevators begin to rise. It climbs all the way to the top, where it picks up a single passenger. Mandel will be making his debut as a god tonight, descending from the heavens to watch the human sacrifice being made in his name. He comes into view as the elevator passes the sixth floor. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit with a black shirt and tie. But it’s the simpering smile on his face that makes it all truly sinister.

The elevator arrives, and Mandel steps out with a surgical scalpel in one hand. He approaches Gwendolyn, pauses long enough for everyone to get a good look at the blade. Then he cuts the straps that bind her wrists. Next, he frees my arms.

“Stand,” he orders. That’s Joi’s cue. The time has come for the Dux to address the crowd.

Gwendolyn and I face each other. She has no idea that she’s about to receive a last-minute reprieve. There’s a long pause while we all wait for Joi. The contest can’t begin without her.

At last, Mandel turns to Ella. “Where is the Dux?” he asks.

“I haven’t seen her since Flick and Gwendolyn were brought downstairs,” Ella responds.

“Where is she?” he hisses at me.

“How should I know? I’ve been tied to a chair for the past four hours,” I point out. “You’re the one who monitors the chips. Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention this evening.”

“She must be with the others,” Ella says. “Wherever they are.”

“The others?” Mandel asks as his eyes circle the ground floor.

That’s when Gwendolyn starts to laugh. It’s a high-pitched cackle that sounds more hyena than human. It ricochets off the walls of the atrium. Gwendolyn’s lost what little is left of her mind, and Mandel looks disgusted. Until he finally realizes what’s funny.

“Everyone to your rooms!” he shouts at the crowd. “This instant!”

He charges toward the elevator, slides the gates open, and points inside.

“You too,” he growls at me.

• • •

I find Joi in my bathroom. Her scalpel, needles, and thread are laid out on the side of the sink. The chair from my desk is waiting for me. I kiss her once before I remove my shirt and take a seat. Joi clips my hair back with one of her own bobby pins. Then she takes a washcloth, wets it, and twists the fabric into a rope, which she places between my teeth.

We hear the sound of people marching around the balcony outside my room. The footsteps pause every few seconds. They’re patrolling the building and making sure all the dorm rooms are locked. Joi is preparing to operate when the lights shut off. We can see a faint, red glow outside the bathroom.

Joi leaves and returns with my battery-powered alarm clock. I feel her lips at my ear. “Are you ready?” she whispers.

There is no anesthetic. No tequila this time. I feel the scalpel slice into my scalp. A drop of blood slips off a strand of my hair and splatters on my bare shoulder. More follow until there’s a steady stream. Joi’s nimble fingers are working fast. Scalp wounds can bleed heavily, but they’re rarely dangerous, she assured me. My chip will be easier to remove than the others.

“Put out your hand,” she whispers. The chip drops from her tweezers into my palm.

It doesn’t look like metal and plastic. It’s covered in blood and bits of tissue. If I didn’t know what it was, I’d assume it had once been alive.

The needle punctures my scalp three times. Joi uses a towel from the bathroom and an entire bottle of spring water to rinse me off. I dress while Joi cleans her instruments and puts them back in her kit. According to the alarm clock, we stand by the door of my room for ten full minutes, listening for the sound of any movement outside. The dorms are quiet now, so I slip Mandel’s key into the slot and slide the door open just enough to slip outside.

We’re almost to Ella’s room when I remember what I’ve forgotten. Without the clock, it’s pitch black in my room. I manage to locate the frame on the wall, but I can’t figure out how to open it. So I take it into the bathroom and crack it against the sink. The Plexiglas doesn’t break, but the wood splinters. I remove Jude’s picture, fold it up, and tuck it safely into my pocket.

Joi is standing by the railing when I emerge. She’s staring down at the atrium, and I can see just enough of her face in the darkness to know something is wrong. The lights are still on downstairs, but there’s no sound of activity. We expected the academy to be on full alert. But it seems as if everyone has gone home. Joi looks up at me, and I know what she’s thinking. We’ve got to keep going. Our plan can’t be postponed.

Ella keeps the washcloth clenched between her teeth, but she doesn’t even whimper during the procedure. Joi works more slowly this time. The chip is close to the ulnar artery. One wrong move and Ella might bleed to death. I know Joi’s nervous, but she doesn’t let Ella see it. She waits until the last stitch is in before she allows herself a sigh of relief.

I’ll sigh as soon as we’re all out of the academy. I keep waiting for one of the Androids to turn against us and sound the alarm. Most are in bed when we arrive. Each time, I clamp a hand over their mouths, but no one has tried to scream yet. They almost seem glad that the end might be near. It doesn’t matter which that end might be. Ella holds out her arm while Joi shines the light on the site of Ella’s incision. The Androids instantly know what’s happened. Nothing else needs to be said. But it hasn’t all been smooth sailing. I thought the operation might go faster once Joi got the hang of removing the chips, but it takes us a full two hours to cover the eighth floor. She spent forty-five minutes working on one Android who’s been at the academy for almost three years. His tissue had grown around the chip. Another year and it would have been part of his body.

There are two more dorm floors to cover. Getting down to the seventh is easy. Ella slinks back to her room and returns with a rope made of sheets. She used the design I’d come up with the night I tried to help Lucas. I loop the rope over the eighth-floor balcony and shimmy to the seventh floor. Joi and Ella follow, then we pull the rope down.

By the time we’ve finished on seven, thirty-nine chips have been removed. But we still face our biggest challenge. The rest of the students are housed on the ninth floor. And there’s only one way up. So we hold our breath and board the elevator. The soft click of the gates sounds like a deafening bang. The hum of the motor is the roar of a jet engine. We step off on nine and listen. We hear nothing at all.

With the Wolves gone, only a handful of students remain on the top floor. And one of those will be left behind. Even Joi agrees that Gwendolyn is far too dangerous to be released into the wild. We’re about to free our final prisoner, but we have to pass the old Dux’s room to reach him. We’re just outside Gwendolyn’s dorm when Joi and Ella both freeze in their tracks.

“Help.” The word was so faint that I’m not sure I heard it. “Help.”

The three of us stare at the door.

“It’s a trick!” Ella whispers.

“Help.”

Joi kneels down and runs a finger through a small puddle that’s formed under Gwendolyn’s door. When she holds her fingertip up for inspection, Ella and I see it’s dripping with blood. Joi puts her other hand out. She wants the key.

“Don’t!” Ella pleads, but I’ve already placed Mandel’s key in Joi’s palm.

We find Gwendolyn lying on the other side of her door, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her pristine white outfit has been dyed scarlet. Joi kneels down beside her.

“Light,” she orders, and I hold the alarm clock over Gwendolyn as Joi searches for the girl’s wound. It doesn’t take long to find it. There’s a jagged red gash in the center of Gwendolyn’s forearm. She’s removed her own chip.

“Jesus. What did she use?” Ella asks.

I see what looks like a red stick lying a few feet from Gwendolyn. “A ballpoint pen,” I say.

Joi has finished her inspection. “I can’t stitch this up. She’s nicked the artery. She needs a tourniquet.”

I rip a strip from one of Gwendolyn’s sheets, and Joi wraps it tightly around the girl’s arm, just below the elbow. By the time she’s finished, Gwendolyn is perfectly still.

“Is she dead?” I ask.

“No, but she will be soon. She’s lost a ton of blood. We’re gonna have to take her with us when we go.”

I pick Gwendolyn up and place her on her bed. Then the rest of us hurry to the last student’s room. The final stitch has just gone in when we hear the elevator gates open. I sprint to the balcony and arrive in time to see the gates close again. Then the elevator starts to descend. There’s a trail of blood leading from Gwendolyn’s room to the elevators.

“She’s making a break for it,” Ella whispers.

“Do you think she knows we’ve been helping the others?” I ask.

“No,” Joi replies. “Her brain can’t be getting enough blood. She’s delirious.”

I believe her. Until the elevator passes the ground floor and disappears below ground.

“Why didn’t it stop?” Ella asks.

“Shit. She’s gone to find Mandel.” I turn to Joi. “You still have the key. Get everyone out. Right now.”

Joi pulls the card key from her pocket and hands it to Ella. “You’ll have to do it,” she says. “Wait until Flick and I are downstairs, then start packing the elevators with students.”

“You’re going too!” I order.

“No,” Joi says. “You wouldn’t leave when I told you to either. And I asked nicely.”

• • •

The elevator gates open on the Infirmary floor—the nerve center of Mandel’s operation. I expect to be greeted by a swarm of henchmen, and I hope we can keep them busy for a few short minutes while all the Ghosts and Androids flee the building. But Joi and I aren’t met by any welcoming party. Gwendolyn is still on her own. She’s slowly sliding along the wall of the empty hall. A red streak stretches from the elevator toward the two steel doors at the end of the corridor. She’s only a few feet away. Joi and I move cautiously in her direction. The elevator gates shut behind us, and I hear the car climbing back up to the dorm floors.

“Gwendolyn! What are you doing?” Joi whispers. “You wanted to escape. We’ll take you with us! We’ll get you to a hospital!”

Gwendolyn’s laugh turns into a cough and then a choke. “I knew you weren’t good enough to be the Dux. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“Don’t do this, Gwendolyn!” I plead. “You’re not thinking straight. Mandel’s been feeding you pills that rot people’s brains. And he was about to let you be executed tonight. Come with us. We’ll help you leave!”

“Why would I want to leave the academy? In a few minutes, I’ll be Dux again.” Gwendolyn hurls herself toward the lab entrance with her last bit of energy. She’s too weak to stay on her feet, but her finger finds the buzzer before she collapses on the floor.

Once again, I find myself waiting for an army that never arrives. We hear a single set of footsteps inside the lab. As they approach the hallway, Joi and I frantically try each of the six white doors that lead to the examination rooms where newbies are given their physicals. They’re all locked, and the elevator is gone. We’re trapped. I watch the lab doors open. Lucian Mandel looks down at Gwendolyn’s sapless body and then up at us. He’s wearing a pair of plastic goggles pushed up on his forehead. His white lab coat is splattered with blood. There’s a Taser in his right hand. An advanced model—military grade. The kind that can be deployed from a distance.

“They were going to escape.” Gwendolyn sounds like she’s gargling with her own blood. “I caught them.”

“How considerate of you,” Mandel says, stepping over her.

“I need a doctor,” she moans.

“Yes,” he agrees as he glances back at her. “It appears that you do. But I’m afraid you’ve come at the wrong time. I gave our physicians the night off.”

Mandel walks right up to where Joi and I are standing. He looks at Joi and shakes his head sadly. “I’m terribly disappointed, my dear. I had such high hopes for you! Why aren’t you out with the others?”

Joi glances over at me, but I don’t know what he’s talking about either.

“You had the file that belongs to Flick’s father! You kept the best for yourself! Why didn’t you use it?” Mandel exclaims before turning his attention to me. “Can you imagine? There’s a knock on your father’s door. Outside is a young woman he recognizes. He knows she once ran a home for orphans and runaways. But her mutant gene has been activated. She’s a true predator now, and she’s chosen your father to be her first victim. She’s stolen his secrets, and he’ll have to pay dearly to keep them from falling into the wrong hands. What better way to convince your father that the gene exists than to have him discover the irrefutable proof on his doorstep?!” Mandel sighs. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected justice to be quite so poetic.”

BOOK: How to Lead a Life of Crime
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