Prodigy (17 page)

There’s a bigger problem I can’t wrap my head around. Razor
must
know, on some level, that Anden isn’t a dictator like his father was. After all,
Razor’s high enough of a rank to hear any rumors of Anden’s rebellious nature. He’d
told Day and me that Congress disliked Anden . . . but he never told us
why
they were clashing.

Why would he want to murder a young Elector who would help the Patriots establish
a new Republic?

In the midst of my churning thoughts, though, one stays clear.

I know for certain where my loyalties lie now. I won’t help Razor assassinate the
Elector. But I have to warn Day, so he doesn’t follow through with the Patriots’ plans.

I need a signal.

Then I realize that there might be one way to do it, as long as he’s watching footage
of me along with the rest of the Patriots. He won’t know why I’m doing it, but it’s
better than nothing. I lower my head slightly, then lift my hand with Day’s paper
clip ring on it and press two fingers against the side of my brow. Our agreed signal
when we’d first arrived on the streets of Vegas.

Stop.

LATER THAT NIGHT, I HEAD OUT TO THE MAIN conference room and join the others to hear
about the next phase of the mission. Razor’s back again. Four Patriots continue to
work in a smaller cluster at one corner of the room, mostly Hackers from what I can
tell, analyzing how speakers are mounted on some building or other. I’m starting to
recognize a few of them—one of the Hackers is bald and built like a tank, if a bit
short; another has a giant nose set between half-moon eyes on a very thin face; a
third one is a girl missing an eye. Almost everyone has a scar of some sort. My attention
wanders to Razor, who’s addressing the crowd at the front of the room, his figure
outlined in light with all the world map screens behind him. I crane my neck to see
if I can catch Tess milling around with the others, to take her aside and try to apologize.
When I finally catch sight of her, though, she’s standing with a few other Medics
in training, holding out some sort of green herb in her palm and patiently explaining
how to use it. Or so I think. I decide to save my apology for later. It doesn’t seem
like she needs me right now. The thought makes me sad and oddly uncomfortable.

“Day!” Tess finally notices me. I give her a quick wave in return.

She makes her way over to me, then pulls out two pills and a small roll of clean bandages
from her pocket. She pushes them into my hands. “Stay safe tonight, okay?” she says
breathlessly, fixing me with a firm stare. There’s no sign of the earlier tension
between us. “I know how you get when your adrenaline’s pumping. Don’t do anything
too crazy.” Tess nods at the blue pills in my hand. “They’ll warm you up if it’s too
cold out there.”

Acts old enough to be my caretaker, I swear. Tess’s concern leaves a warm feeling
in my stomach. “Thanks, cousin,” I reply, tucking her gifts away in my own pockets.
“Hey, I—”

She stops my apology with a hand on my arm. Her eyes are as wide as ever, so comforting
that I find myself wishing she could come with me. “Whatever. Just . . . promise me
you’ll be careful.”

So quick to forgive, in spite of everything. Had she said those things to me earlier
in the heat of the moment? Is she still angry? I lean over and give her a brief hug.
“I promise. And
you
be safe too.” She squeezes my waist in response, then heads off to rejoin the other
young Medics before I can attempt my apology again.

After she’s gone, I turn my attention back on Razor. He points to a grainy video that
shows some street near the Lamar train tracks Kaede and I had passed earlier. A pair
of soldiers hurry across the screen, their collars flipped up against the falling
sleet, each of them munching on steaming empanadas. My mouth waters at the sight.
The Patriots’ canned food is a luxury, but,
man,
what I wouldn’t give for a hot meat pastry. “First of all, I’d like to reassure everyone
that our plans are on the right track,” he says. “Our Agent has successfully met with
the Elector and told him about our decoy assassination plan.” He circles an area of
the screen with his finger. “Originally the Elector had planned to visit San Angelo
on his morale-boosting tour, then head here to Lamar. Now word is that he’ll be coming
to Pierra instead. A few of our soldiers will be accompanying the Elector instead
of his original troop.” Razor’s eyes sweep over me, then he gestures to the screen
and falls silent.

A video replaces the grainy Lamar train track scene; we’re seeing footage of a bedroom.
The first thing I notice is a slender figure seated on the edge of a bed, her knees
tucked up to her chin. June? But the room is a nice one—certainly doesn’t look like
a prison cell to me—and the bed looks soft and thickly layered with blankets I would’ve
killed to have back in Lake.

Someone grabs my arm. “Hey. There you are, hotshot.” Pascao’s standing beside me,
that permanently cheery grin plastered all over his face and those pale gray eyes
pulsing with excitement.

“Hey,” I reply, giving him a quick nod in greeting before turning my attention back
to the screen. Razor has started giving the group a general overview of the next phase
of the plans, but Pascao tugs on my sleeve again.

“You, me, and a few other Runners are heading out in a couple of hours.” His eyes
flicker to the video before settling back on me. “Listen up. Razor wanted me to give
my crew a more specific rundown than the one he’s delivering to the group. I just
briefed Baxter and Jordan.”

I’m barely paying attention to Pascao anymore because now I can tell that the small
figure on the bed is June. It must be her, what with the way she pushes her hair behind
her shoulders and analyzes the room with a sweeping gaze. She’s dressed in pretty
cozy-looking nightclothes, but she’s shivering as if the room’s cold. Is this elegant
bedchamber really her prison cell? Tess’s words come back to me.

Day, have you forgotten? June killed your mother.

Pascao tugs on my arm again and forces me to face him, then leads me to the back of
the group. “Listen
up,
Day,” he whispers again. “There’s a shipment coming into Lamar tonight, by train.
It’ll have cartloads of guns, gear, food, and whatever else for the warfront soldiers,
along with a whole ensemble of lab equipment. We’re going to steal some supplies and
destroy a railcar’s worth of grenades on it. That’s our mission tonight.”

Now June’s talking to the guard standing near the door, but I can barely hear her.
Razor’s done addressing the room and has fallen deep into conversation with two other
Patriots, both of them occasionally gesturing up at the screen, then drawing out something
on their palms. “What’s the point of blowing up a cartload of grenades?” I ask.

“This mission is the decoy assassination. The Elector was originally scheduled to
come here to Lamar, at least before June had a talk with him. Our mission tonight
should convince the Elector, if he isn’t convinced already, that June was telling
him the truth. Plus, it’ll be a nice chance to steal a few grenades.” Pascao rubs
his hands together with almost maniacal glee. “Mmmm. Nitroglycerin.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Me and three other Runners are gonna do the train job, but we’ll need a special Runner
to distract the soldiers and guards.”

“What do you mean,
special
?”

“What I
mean,
” Pascao says pointedly, “is that this is why Razor decided to recruit you, Day. This
is our first chance to show the Republic that you’re
alive.
It’s why Kaede had you strip the dye from your hair. When word gets out that you
were seen in Lamar, taking down a Republic train, people are gonna go nuts. The Republic’s
notorious little criminal, still up and about even after the government’s attempt
to execute him? If
that
doesn’t stir up people’s sense of rebellion, nothing will. That’s what we’re aiming
for—chaos. By the time we’re done, the public will be so pumped about you that they’ll
be salivating for revolution. It’s the perfect atmosphere for the Elector’s assassination.”

Pascao’s excitement makes me smile a little. Messing with the Republic? This is what
I was born to do. “Give me more details,” I say, moving my hand in a come-hither gesture.

Pascao checks to make sure Razor’s still going through the plans with the others,
then winks at me. “Our team is gonna unhook the grenade railcar a couple of miles
from the station—by the time we get there, I don’t want there to be more than a handful
of soldiers guarding the train. Be careful, now. There usually aren’t many troops
near those train tracks, but tonight’s different. The Republic will be on the hunt
for us after hearing June’s warning about the decoy assassination. Watch for extra
soldiers. Buy us the time we need, and make sure they spot you.”

“Fine. I’ll get you your time.” I cross my arms and point at him. “You just tell me
where I need to go.”

Pascao grins and slaps me hard on the back. “Great. You’re the best Runner out of
us by far—you’ll throw those soldiers off without a hitch. Join up with me in two
hours near the entrance where you came in. We’re gonna have a ball.” He snaps his
fingers. “Oh, and don’t mind Baxter. He’s just sore that you get special treatment
from both me
and
Tess.”

As soon as he walks away, my eyes go back to the video screen and stay frozen on June’s
figure. As it continues playing, pieces of Razor’s conversation with the other Patriots
reach me. “—enough to hear what’s going on,” he’s saying. “She has him in position.”

On the video, June seems to be dozing, with her knees tucked up to her chin. There’s
no sound at all this time, but I don’t think much of it. Then I see someone step inside
her cell, a young man with dark hair and an elegant black cloak. It’s the Elector.
He bends down and starts talking to her, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. When
he gets close to her, June tenses up. I can feel the blood draining from my face.
All the chatter and bustle around me fades into the distance. The Elector puts a hand
under June’s chin and brings her face toward his own. He is taking something that
I thought was just for me, and I feel a sudden, shattering sense of loss. I want to
rip my eyes away, but even from the corner of my vision, I can still see him kissing
her. It seems to last forever.

I watch numbly as they finally pull away from each other and the Elector steps out
of the room, leaving June alone, curled up on the bed. What’s going through her mind
right now? I can’t watch any longer. I’m about to turn my back, ready to follow Pascao
out of the crowd and away from this scene.

But then something catches my eye. I look up at the monitor. And just in time, I see
June hold up two fingers to her brow in our signal.

*   *   *

It’s past midnight when Pascao, me, and three other Runners paint wide black stripes
across our eyes and suit ourselves up in dark warfront uniforms and military caps.
Then we head out of the Patriots’ underground hideout for the first time since I arrived.
A couple of soldiers wander by now and then, but we see more clusters of troops as
we head farther out of our neighborhood and cross the train tracks. The sky’s still
completely covered with clouds, and under the dim streetlights, I can see thin sheets
of sleet falling. The pavement’s slick with drizzle and icy slush, and the air smells
stale, like a mix of smoke and mold. I pull my stiff collar higher, swallow one of
Tess’s blue pills, and actually wish I was back with her in Los Angeles’s humid slums.
I tap the dust bomb hidden inside my jacket, double-checking that it’s dry. In the
back of my mind, the scene between June and the Elector plays on repeat.

June’s signal was for me. Which part of the plan does she want me to stop? Does she
want me to forfeit the Patriots’ mission and escape? If I defect now, what will happen
to her? The signal could’ve meant a million things. It could even mean she’s decided
to stay with the Republic. I shake the thought furiously from my mind. No, she wouldn’t
do that.
Not even if the Elector himself wanted her?
Would that make her stay?

I also remember that the video footage of them didn’t have sound on it. Every other
video we’ve seen has had crisp sound—Razor even insisted on making sure the volume
was turned up. Had the Patriots stripped it from this one? Are they hiding something?

Pascao stops us in the shadows of an alley not far from the train station. “Train
arrives in fifteen minutes,” he says, his breath rising in clouds. “Baxter, Iris,
you two come with me.” The girl named Iris—long and lean, with deep-set eyes that
constantly dart around—smiles, but Baxter glowers and tightens his jaw. I ignore him
and try not to think about whatever he’s trying to put in Tess’s mind about me. Pascao
points to the third Runner, a petite girl with copper-colored braids who keeps sneaking
glances at me. “Jordan, you’re going to pinpoint the right railcar for us.” She gives
Pascao a thumbs-up.

Pascao’s eyes shift to me. “Day,” he whispers. “You know your drill.”

I tug the edge of my cap. “Got it, cousin.” Whatever June means, this is no time for
me to leave the Patriots behind. Tess is still back there in the bunker, and I have
no idea where Eden is. No way I’m going to put both of them in jeopardy.

“Keep those soldiers busy, yeah? Make them hate you.”

“That’s my specialty.” I gesture up at the slanted roofs and crumbling walls towering
around us. To a Runner, those roofs are like giant slides made smooth by ice. I say
a silent thanks to Tess—already the blue pill is warming me up from the inside out,
as soothing as a bowl of hot soup on an icy evening.

Pascao gives me a wide grin. “Well then. Let’s show them a good time.”

I watch the others hurry away along the railroad tracks through the veil of sleet.
Then I step farther into the shadows and study the buildings. Each one is old and
pockmarked with footholds—and to make things even more fun, they all have rusted metal
beams crisscrossing their walls. Some have top floors that are completely blown off
and open to the night sky. Others have slanted, tiled roofs. In spite of everything,
I can’t help feeling a twinge of anticipation. These buildings are a Runner’s paradise.