Rogue (6 page)

“Betrayal in what way?” asked Will as neutrally as he could manage.

“Once he made his breakthrough, I thought Hugh was entitled to know how we intended to utilize it. My hope, my natural expectation, was that he would choose to stand with us as we moved forward, realizing the fruits of his labor together. Your father chose, instead, to run away.”

Will noticed a sneering smile cross Lemuel Clegg's face. He wanted to slap it right off him. “Why do you think he did that?”

Franklin's eyes clouded over, and he looked away sharply; apparently this was still a painful, uneasy subject. “Your mother was pregnant with you, Will, at the time. They'd had terrible difficulties conceiving a child over a period of many years. She miscarried a number of times. It was heartbreaking, really. So I…I made the decision for them…to make them a part of our program.”

“At one of these fertility clinics you controlled,” said Will.

“That's correct. Not far from here. In Chicago.”

“And they never knew what they were getting into?”

Franklin still wouldn't meet his eye; he appeared to be in turmoil, either still angry with his son or with himself about this—or maybe both.

“Not all of the details, no. As far as they knew, this was a conventional clinic, employing the standard protocols for fertility procedures.”

Will had to choke back his anger, trying to sound neutral. “Why did you do that?”

“This was my decision, not taken lightly, but without hesitation. For a number of reasons, Will. I thought it would ensure my son's commitment to our cause. I misread him completely. He took my only grandson away from me and hid you from me all these years, living in the shadows like a common criminal.”

“You don't think he had a right to be upset?” asked Will, then instantly regretted it.

“He had no right! Not after all I'd been through. He had no right to take you away from me! I could not allow him to do that!”

Will had to turn and look away, struggling to keep his growing fury at the man in check.

“Fortunately, I had others in the family who weren't quite so squeamish about helping me with the Great Work.” Will noticed Franklin glance over at Lemuel Clegg with a strange look, which Clegg returned with an intensity of anger and pride that Will could make no sense of.

Franklin walked directly to Will, pleading with him, his eyes red and wild, expecting, as if he deserved one, a sympathetic hearing.

“Why do you suppose I kept searching for you as desperately as I did for all these years? I never gave up hope, Will, that you and I would be reunited. I realized I'd lost your father long ago, but I was not going to lose you!”

After their one fateful encounter six weeks earlier, when he learned he was still alive, Will hadn't seen his father, Hugh, again. He knew he was in some way a prisoner here, forced to work again in Franklin's infernal program. He wanted to grab the old man, right now, force him to tell him where his father was and demand his freedom, but he didn't dare to, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold back his anger. Revenge would have to wait; he couldn't jeopardize what they were about to do now.

Will bit his tongue and turned back to Franklin, determined to keep all emotion from his face. “But what was different this time around? It failed before. How did you know the procedure would work?”

“The irony is that your father's research had provided us with the proper technique,” said Franklin, calming down. “And since that time, our friends on the other side have given us the material we needed to realize the program in the way it was intended.”

Will kept looking over at Clegg, who reacted strangely whenever Franklin mentioned Will's father. “And all they've asked in return for that is…what?”

Franklin hesitated. Will sensed he was about to lie. “Something we never intend to give them, of course. On their terms, that is.”

“But they're looking for a way back into this world,” said Will. “Isn't that it?”

“Not precisely,” said Franklin, raising a finger again, challenging the idea. “They seek
unlimited
passage, the key word being
unlimited
. Our position is slightly different, you see. We believe that their access should be something that we control.”

Will tried not to sound too skeptical. “And you really think we have something to say about that?”

“As long as we control these devices,” said Franklin, placing his hand on a particular spot on top of each cylinder. “There's absolutely nothing to worry about. They will be allowed back into this world on our terms, and our terms alone.”

Both cylinders opened, as Will had seen before. Thin seams appeared and widened vertically along their fronts, until the cylinders opened like doors, revealing a series of shelves. The shelves slid smoothly out as if floating on air, each lined with indented compartments holding a different technological object.

There, in the middle of the tray of the cylinder on the right, sat the gun-shaped object that Will had once seen Lyle use to open a portal to the Never-Was.

The Carver.

Will turned slightly away and closed his eyes for a moment. Concentrating, he located Elise with his mind—she was exactly where she was supposed to be, directly outside the ground-level entrance to the elevator. He sent her the combination to the operating panel that he'd seen his grandfather use to activate the controls.

4951

A few moments later her voice reached back to him:
Got it.

When he opened his eyes again, Will saw Franklin smiling slyly at him.

“What is it?” asked Will.

“There's one last piece you're going to want to know, Will. But I warn you, you may find it disturbing.”

Will waited.

“Once your father made his breakthrough—the development of a technique that allowed us to work directly on the enhancement of human genetic potential in vitro—our dear friends gave us the greatest treasure of all. The one that has made possible the creation of this whole new generation of Paladins.”

“What's that?” said Will, turning back to him.

“The gift that made all of you—Courtney and Todd here, the last two classes of Knights and all those to come, your friends, even you, my dear boy—who you are today.”

Will saw them all smiling at him. “I'm sorry…I don't understand.”

Franklin moved closer, smiled, and spoke softly. “The genetic material that, together with all the estimable qualities you already possessed from our family, made you what you are, made you as truly remarkable as you have become—do you see what I'm saying?”

Will felt his mind locking up. Not wanting to believe any of what he sensed he was about to hear.

“Your enhancements,” said Franklin, his eyes shining. “Their
bequest.
That genetic material…came from
them.
From the Others. Our dream is alive in you, Will. You're living proof. You are my masterpiece.”

They heard a jolt from the next room—the elevator starting back up the shaft to the surface.

Two Months Earlier

WILL'S RULES FOR LIVING #3:

IF YOU HAVE TO HIDE YOUR TRUE FEELINGS FROM YOUR FRIENDS, THEY'RE NOT YOUR FRIENDS.

On a rooftop of the Crag, Will stood transfixed at Franklin Greenwood's side, staring at his father through thick one-way glass. His father, Hugh Greenwood, wore operating scrubs and was holding a scalpel to Elise's throat as she lay unconscious on an operating table. Mr. Hobbes stood behind Hugh, pointing a pistol at his head.

“That's one-way glass,” said Franklin. “He can't see or hear you, Will. And you have my solemn word that if you just do as I ask from this point forward, no harm will come to him, or Miss Moreau, or any of your friends.”

“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because, my dear boy, my name is Franklin Greenwood. I'm your grandfather.”

Will didn't hesitate and looked up at him decisively. “I'll do whatever you say.”

That single glimpse he'd been given of his father alive would inspire Will, in ways that Raymond would never know. They were both prisoners now, and still in terrible danger, but just knowing his dad was still alive was more than enough to fuel Will's secret rage and keep him going.

That night, lying alone in bed, he'd paged through his father's book of rules, hoping for guidance. On the back cover, written faintly in the margin near the binding, he found a single sentence in his father's hand.

You have to write your own rules now.

His father was right. This was uncharted territory. Will knew he was being watched—even in his own room—so he didn't even dare to write them down. That night he began storing his thoughts away, engraving onto his mind a set of rules that would not only get him through this, but would also eventually allow him to strike back. And he couldn't fight this fight alone. If he gave Raymond or the Knights one single hint that he wasn't playing along, they'd snuff him out like a match.

The next day, pledging loyalty to his grandfather's mad vision, Will persuaded Franklin to spare the lives of Ajay, Nick, and Elise. He even convinced the old man that he could bring them around to join him on the side of the Knights. Franklin seemed to want to believe him. During the following week, he met with each of his roommates briefly in private—except for Brooke, their betrayer, and he'd told no one else about that yet—and made that case, letting them know nonverbally that they were being watched and mustn't say what they were really thinking. All three silently listened, puzzled, but followed his lead.

That was all he'd dared to tell them. Nick, Elise, and Ajay asked no questions and buried themselves back into their busy school routines. Every night, Will went across the lake to have dinner with his grandfather at the Crag. He seemed pleased with Will's cooperation and, so far, with his roommates' compliance.

One night, three weeks later, when Will returned from dinner with Franklin, he found Elise alone in the pod, studying at their dining table. Without even looking up at him, she sent him a thought:

So can they read your thoughts?

Will took off his coat and put his things away without looking at her.

I don't think so,
he sent.
But they've put cameras in here. And mics. Everywhere.

I figured. They don't know that you know, do they?

No.

Let's keep it that way,
sent Elise.

Will went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Their communication link was stronger than ever, emotion woven into every exchange. Even their silences were more eloquent than words.

You need to tell me what happened. I don't remember any of it.

They drugged you,
sent Will.

Then, as he sat silently eating his sandwich and looking at a magazine, and she sat looking at her book, ostensibly studying, he told her the rest of it. The story tumbled out of him, everything that had happened since they'd been ambushed in Lyle's cave while searching for the Carver. He saved the shocker for the end: The old man they'd come to know as Mr. Elliot was his own grandfather, Franklin Greenwood, the second—and long-presumed-dead—headmaster of the Center for Integrated Learning.

Elise didn't send a single reaction back and kept looking at her book, but he could tell she wasn't actually reading. When he finished, she hesitated for a moment, pretended to write something down, and then finally sent back a thought:

Nice family you got there, West.

Will pretended he saw something in the magazine that made him smile.

I have a plan,
he sent.

Great. The last time you had a plan, I ended up drugged like a lab rat, strapped to a gurney, about to lose my vocal cords.

She erased something furiously on her notepad.

I can't guarantee it'll work,
sent Will.
I can't even guarantee we'll live through it. But if we don't hit back, and fast, we're going to lose whatever small chance we have.

What's our other option?

Elise took a drink from her water bottle.

There's only one other way to keep us alive. Give up, sign on to their program, and watch these maniacs destroy the world as we know it.

Elise choked on her water. Will looked up from his magazine.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, coughing, and sent him a thought:
What about your father, Will? If he's here and he's alive, can he help us?

Will turned the page.
I haven't even seen him again, and I haven't brought him up. I assume Franklin's got him locked down out of sight, in case he needs a trump card to lay on me.

You're sure Franklin's sold that you've bought in?

I'm working on it. I've got an edge. Franklin's only weakness—aside from the fact that he's a complete raving lunatic—is his attachment to me. He
wants
to believe me. He's sentimental about family, and I'm the only one left, in his mind, who can fulfill his psychotic, messed-up “legacy.”

The front door opened. Nick and Ajay trudged in, set down their bags, grunted hellos, and went to their separate rooms.

When do we tell them about this?

Tomorrow morning,
sent Will, glancing at his watch.
Nine o'clock. Bring them with you to Coach Jericho's outside office, the big tree behind the field house.

Jericho? Why Jericho?

Because he's the only other person on the planet I can absolutely count on. Except for you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you all this until now, but I had to make sure I was in the clear. I would never have made it this far without knowing you'd be there for me.

He chanced a look up at her. Elise hesitated, then looked away, but what she was feeling came through to him without her having to say a word. The mood shifted when Brooke came through the door, smiling and bubbly, her blond mop piled under a stylish hat. She greeted them both warmly.

“Hey, guys, how was your day?”

“Not bad,” said Will.

“Okay,” said Elise.

“Good, good,” said Brooke, passing them on her way into the kitchen. “Mine was
excellent.
I'm going right in to hit the books—chemistry exam tomorrow. Anybody want anything?”

“No thanks,” said Will.

What about her?
Elise sent to Will.

Will knew this question was coming and answered carefully:

She doesn't know any of this. I'll explain why tomorrow. And right now I really need to talk to her alone.

“Shoot, I forgot all about that chemistry thing,” said Elise, getting up from the table. “I better hit it, too. See you tomorrow.”

Elise went straight to her room and closed the door. Brooke came out of the kitchen, eating some yogurt.

“She seem okay to you?” asked Brooke.

“Why?”

“I don't know; she's just been real quiet lately. Something's going on I think.”

“Can you sit down for a second?” he asked, moving out a chair for her.

She heard something in his tone and took the offered seat. “What's up?” she asked.

Will looked into her dazzling blue eyes and smiled. She smiled back and patted him on the knee. Will knew she'd betrayed them to Franklin and the Knights. She'd been the traitor in their group all along, since their freshman year, before Will had even arrived at the school. He'd struggled to understand why. His best guess was that her loyalty to family—her diplomat father had been a member of the Knights since his own graduation from the Center—trumped any feeling for her fellow students.

Will had no doubt she was still reporting back to Franklin about them every day. Providing a closer perspective on Will's professed “conversion,” looking for any weakness or inconsistencies. Watching him with those beautiful lying eyes.

Will thought:
It takes a liar to know one. It also takes one to fool another
.

“I have to tell you something big,” he said in a whisper, “but you have to promise me you won't tell any of the others. You're the only one I can trust.”

She furrowed her brow and leaned in. “What is it, Will?”

He let it all tumble out, convincingly, the whole story. How he'd found out who his grandfather was. What he'd learned from him about the Knights. How he'd decided to keep it all from their other roommates.

“But why is that, Will? Don't you think they should know?”

“No. No, we mustn't tell them.”

“I don't understand—”

“Because my grandfather's convinced me that I misunderstood what the Knights are all about. All along, from the beginning. I think it's real possible that I…was completely wrong about them.”

Will watched Brooke struggle to formulate the “right” response, but she couldn't conceal her genuine surprise.

“What makes you so sure?” she finally asked cautiously.

“They have good reasons for everything they've done. I know this sounds crazy, but Franklin's half convinced me that their cause is righteous—”

“What?”

“Keep your voice down,” said Will. “For real. All they've ever wanted is to protect the future. Our future, Brooke. That's what they're doing here. That's why they did what they did to us, and that's why we are the way we are.”

“You can't be serious, Will.”

“Look at us, Brooke, at the things we can do. Whatever else you think about them, the Knights' plan for us worked. You can't deny that. The school, all of this, the whole Paladin program is about them helping us reach our potential, for the good of the world. That's been their plan all along.”

Brooke continued to feign unease, pressing him for more confirmation about what had changed his mind, but he could see she was having a harder time hiding how happy this made her inside.

“I've been through so much—leaving home, losing my parents. My whole life's been turned over. I think when I got here, I was looking for someone to blame—some way to make the pain go away. I grabbed on to the Knights as an easy way for me to push it all back, pretend it wasn't real. My grandfather's helped me to see that.”

It was working. He knew that beneath her practiced levels of deception, this was getting through to her.

“Brooke, I'm not expecting you to believe me on faith alone, and I'm not asking you to. All I'm trying to say is that my grandfather has a vision for me, and I believe in it now. He sees me as a central part of the Prophecy.”

She held his eyes, without even blinking. “Why are you telling me all this?”

He looked into her eyes for a long beat and leaned in even closer before he answered.

“Because there's no one else here I trust more. You're the only one who might understand but…I'm thinking very seriously about going along with what he has in mind for me.”