Set Me Free (9 page)

“He’s smiling,” Evelyn observes.

“He’s glad we’re here,” I say.

We’re about to keep moving when we hear a voice.

“Halt immediately!”

Drew, Evelyn, and I turn to see a pair of enormous soldiers in gray fatigues striding toward us from the far end of the gallery.

Drew gives me a panicked look. “We can just tell
them you’re the Hornet’s daughter,” he suggests frantically. “Maybe they’ll take us to her.”

“Maybe,” I say quickly. “But what if they decide to hold us somewhere while they check out our stories? By the time they confirm our identities, the Resistance soldiers could be halfway to the Phoenix School.”

“Right,” Evelyn agrees, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet as the guards close the gap. “So … we run?”

“We run!”

Our sneakers squeak on the ash-coated floor as we take off through the gallery. The guards give chase. One of them barks into a wristband radio: “Intruders in the Alsdorf sector. In pursuit.”

We skid to a halt in a long corridor. “Left!” I cry.

Around that corner, we come to the entrance to the Rubloff Auditorium. We can hear the guards’ boots pounding closer. With only seconds to spare, we duck breathlessly into the theater and flatten ourselves against the interior wall; our pursuers thunder past the main door. Not until the sound of their running footsteps fades
into the distance do I relax slightly and look around the auditorium. The mustard-colored upholstery on the seats is tattered and singed. Half of the mezzanine section has collapsed.

But miraculously the stage is still standing. The enormous room is dim except for a small pool of light in the center of the stage that is coming from a battery-operated lantern on a table. The glow illuminates the table and two women leaning over it, examining some kind of map or document.

One of them, dressed in army boots and gray fatigues, appears to be a young soldier.

And the other one is my mother.

I
open my mouth to call out
Mom
, the word I haven’t been able to say since she went away so many months ago. But I can’t seem to find my voice.

So I begin to move, slowly at first, my eyes fixed on her up on that stage. I step over pieces of broken auditorium seats and chunks of crumbling plaster. With every step, my heart seems to thud harder and harder in my chest, and suddenly, I’m running faster than I ever have, faster than I ran from the guards.

I hop onto the stage, startling my mother and the soldier.

I can tell that, at first, my mother can’t believe it’s
me. She shakes her head, as though she fears she’s dreaming.

I smile at her.

And when she understands that I am not a dream or a hallucination or a hologram or anything else but her daughter, she opens her arms and I hurl myself into them, across the stage, across the months, across the loneliness and the fear and the secrets.

“Maddie!” she whispers into my hair. “What are you doing here?”

Still, I can’t talk. All I can do is burrow my face into her shoulder, breathing her in, and feeling her arms around me.

“Maddie,” she says again. “It’s so good to see you.”

Her voice sweeps over me like a cool breeze on a hot day.

The young soldier steps off the stage, as if to give us privacy. Mom squeezes me tight. Then I’m suddenly aware of someone else joining us on the stage. Over my mother’s shoulder I see a woman appear from behind the
shredded curtains that shield the stage’s wings. This woman isn’t wearing the army boots and gray fatigues of the Resistance, though; she’s dressed in a neat pantsuit and her dark hair is twisted up in a bun.

It only takes me a moment to recognize who she is.

Her name is Carolyn Andrews Kim.

And she happens to be the President of the United States of America.

The Queen
. That’s what Ivan’s message must have meant.

As amazing as that is, right now, all I can focus on is my mother. Finally, I open my mouth to speak to her.

“Mom! Hey, Mom!”

But it’s not my voice that rings through the auditorium.

It’s Drew’s.

I turn to see him bolting down the theater aisle just as I had. Evelyn is on his heels and there is a look of utter disbelief on her face.

President Kim is squinting into the shadows of the auditorium. Then the voice I’ve heard speaking to the world over the NewsServ a million times is calling, “Drew? Honey, is that you?”

Drew springs up onto the stage and runs to embrace the
other
most important woman in the country … who apparently just happens to be
his
mother.

I watch in shock as President Kim hugs Drew. Then I turn to my mother and I almost start laughing. She’s staring back at me with an expression that says:
How do you know President Kim’s son
?

All I can think to say is:
We have a lot of catching up to do
. But before I can, we hear a commotion near the theater entrance. We all turn to see Louisa, Ryan, Rosie, and Alonso being hauled into the auditorium by three guards.

My mother looks at me questioningly; I nod, and she waves to the guards to bring my friends to the stage. Naturally, they recognize instantly that the woman ruffling Drew’s hair is the commander in chief. Louisa and
Alonso stare in disbelief. Rosie’s mouth is hanging open from absolute shock. Ryan shoots Drew a sideways glance, and says what every one of us is thinking:

“Dude. You’ve
gotta
be kidding me.”

“Your mother is the
President
of the
United States
?” Evelyn shrieks in a whisper.

Drew’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “So it would seem.”

“Oh!” Louisa flings her arms wide. “And you didn’t think that was worth
mentioning
?!”

“I didn’t want to freak everyone out,” he says, serious now. “And I didn’t want to be treated differently than the others.”

I don’t know if I want to sock him in the jaw for concealing such a major piece of information, or hug him for being so modest, and for not pulling rank. Instead, I just continue holding tight to my own mom, who is now looking at my best friend.

“Louisa? I don’t understand!” my mother says. She pulls Louisa into our hug and squeezes her. “You’re here, too? How did you find us?”

President Kim is looking at Drew like any ordinary mother would look at her son, with love in her eyes. “You’re supposed to be at Country Manor, where it’s safe,” she says. “What happened?”

“It’s complicated,” Drew answers, in what is perhaps the understatement of the century.

Now I feel Louisa tugging on my sleeve. “Hey … look.”

I follow her gaze to where Rosie is standing near the edge of the stage, fidgeting like crazy.

“Mom,” I say, motioning to Rosie. “See that girl over there? Her name is Rosie. She’s looking for her sister. Wren Chavez. Do you know where she is?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” My mom presses a button on the wristband communication device she’s wearing. Two seconds later, a girl with a gleaming black ponytail and dark eyes comes striding out from the backstage area.

I’d know her anywhere. In fact, if it weren’t for the gray camouflage pants, the army boots, and the fact that she stands about five foot eight, I’d have mistaken her for Rosie.

My mother smiles at the girl and nods toward the edge of the stage at the same exact moment that Rosie turns to look in our direction.

When the sisters spot each other, I feel my eyes fill with tears.

Rosie and Wren run to each other, and then Rosie is caught up in her older sister’s arms. Wren swings Rosie around in a circle, as they laugh and cry at the same time.

“I missed you so much,” says Rosie, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, I missed you, too,
hermanita
,” says Wren. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you where I was. But it seems you found me, anyway. What are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story.” Rosie sniffles as Wren puts her back down on her feet. “How much time have you got?”

Not much
, I realize, suddenly remembering why we’ve come here.

I hold out my hand to Evelyn, who immediately hands me the flash drive. I turn to my mother.

“Ivan Franks asked us to deliver this to you,” I explain, and my mother’s eyes — so like my own in color and shape — widen.

At the mention of Ivan’s name, Wren lets out a small gasp. “You saw Ivan?” she whispers, color rushing into her face. “Is he okay?”

I swallow hard. The last I saw of Ivan, he was being caught by scouts while we drove off in the getaway van.

“He’s strong,” Rosie tells her sister. “I think he’ll be fine. He’s at the Phoenix School.”

This reminds me to turn back to my mom. “You have to call off today’s attack on the Phoenix School!” I say quickly. “We read it on the flash drive — it’s a trap!”

My mom (who’s used to me asking for second helpings of reconstituted chocolate-substitute pudding and complaining about homework) is taken aback.

“Maddie, how do you know about the Phoenix School?” she asks. She takes the flash drive from my hand. “And how on earth did you decipher what was on here?”

My friends and I exchange glances. There
isn’t
much time, but we do have to explain. So, we ask my mom,
Drew’s mom, and Wren to join us off the stage, on seats in the auditorium. And, talking together, we catch them up.

Louisa starts, speaking softly about what happened at CMS. Then Rosie joins in, explaining how we ran off. When she gets to this part, my mom’s eyes widen again and she looks like she wants to scold me. But then Alonso is explaining about the woods, and then we get up to the part when I was taken.

At this point, my mom’s mouth forms a thin, determined line that I know so well.

“You were
at
the Phoenix Center?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. She rests her hand against my cheek, as if she can’t believe I made it out in one piece.

I nod, not sure I believe it, either.

Squeezing my hand, Evelyn picks up the rest of the story, recounting how the group made its way closer to Chicago and figured out how to find me. Alonso explains about Wrigley Field and Dizzy, causing Wren to exclaim, “You met Dean?” Finally, I finish up by describing our dangerous trek back to our apartment — my mom goes
pale at this — and then finding the puzzle book, and deciphering the code. At this, Mom brightens a bit.

“Everything you did,” she says firmly, looking first at me and then the others, “was highly dangerous and ill-advised. But,” she adds, her eyes coming to rest on me, “I must commend you on your astonishing acts of bravery.”

My friends and I look at one another, and I can hear Alonso whisper to Ryan, “Dude. The Hornet thinks we rock.”

Mom speaks rapidly into her wristband again, asking a soldier to come out with her tablet. When the young soldier returns bearing Mom’s sleek tablet computer, I think of Dad, and ask worriedly about him.

“He’s fine,” Mom assures me, inserting the flash drive into the tablet. “He’s out in the suburbs of Chicago today, working on wiring a new spot for the Resistance to hide out in — we’re always changing locations, for security purposes.” Mom glances at me, and her eyes well up. “I can’t wait to tell him you’re here.”

I can’t wait to see my father again, too — to have my family all back together.

With a nod of her head, Wren urges Mom to enter the flash drive into her tablet. It’s the kind of firm, capable motion that I can see Rosie making. The sisters are so similar I can’t help but smile, despite our situation.

Mom inserts the flash drive, and her fingers fly over the keys as she types in the password
freedom
and accesses the document. She reads it quickly, instantly absorbing what it took us forever to get. She also points out that there are other documents on the flash drive — we were too distracted to even notice those — with more details about the Phoenix School.

“Okay,” she says decisively, looking from Wren to the young soldier. “They’re definitely going to counterstrike. We’re going to call off the mission for now. Postpone it.”

I have a reckless thought that I can’t keep to myself. “Mom,” I say boldly. “Maybe there’s a way you can still go today. Counterstrike their counterstrike.”

“We will,” my mother says. “Eventually. But it’s just too risky to try today. They know we’re aware of them, and that puts a very dangerous spin on things.”

But I keep going. “You don’t understand what that
place is like,” I say heatedly. “The longer those kids stay drugged and brainwashed, the more difficult it’s going to be to get them back to reality.” I look at Louisa, Rosie, and Evelyn. “I would have stayed if it weren’t for my friends … and who knows what would have happened.”

A flash of concern darkens my mom’s eyes. I realize that, suddenly, this mission has hit very close to home for her.

“Let me think about it,” she tells me. “We’ll see.”

Now, when other mothers say “we’ll see” it’s pretty certain that the answer is going to be “no.”

But as it turns out, when your mother is the commander of a high-powered, undercover rebel army, what “we’ll see” really means is:
Let me talk to my military advisors, organize an infiltration sequence, and prepare a viable assault strategy
.

Command Central is located down the hall from the Rubloff Auditorium in a huge area called the Stock Exchange Trading Room. It once featured the actual
stenciled decorations and art glass of the historic Chicago Stock Exchange, but the fire severely damaged the space. Now it is a secret military outpost, the base of operations for the Resistance forces.

My mother suggested summoning vehicles to take President Kim and the rest of us to a safe house but we all flat-out refused. My mom argued for only a minute. I suppose there was something in our eyes, some steely resolve in our voices, that told her this was one battle even the Hornet couldn’t win.

Now she and her team are struggling to come up with a way to infiltrate the Phoenix Center stronghold to apprehend the Alliance faculty.

My friends and I are seated on wooden chairs in the corner of the huge space, watching in awe as the Hornet and her soldiers do their thing. There are maps spread out on folding tables, and dry-erase boards already covered with hand-drawn diagrams and possible strategic procedures. There’s a section being guarded by two powerful-looking soldiers that contains an arsenal of
weapons. And there is a table piled high with protein bars and energy drinks.

So far, Ryan is the only one of us who could bring himself to eat.

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” snaps Rosie.

“Soldiers need their strength,” he says.

I realize that by being in this room, by doing what we’ve done, we are like soldiers now. Two years ahead of schedule. I look at the young Resistance soldiers in the room, and think of Ivan, and Dizzy. Then my thoughts jump to Jonah, out there alone, and I feel a pang of missing him. It doesn’t seem fair that I’m reunited with my mother, and he’s all alone.

Louisa, doing her mind-reading thing again, pats my arm. “I think Jonah’s okay,” she tells me softly. “He’s been out on his own before. He’s like Helen, and her brother, Troy.”

I think of Helen, that mysterious stranger who made such a huge contribution to my own rescue. I wonder if she’s found Troy.

Helen and Troy. There’s something about those names that strikes a chord in me. For some reason, I conjure up the image of an old book.

The memory comes back slowly — there was a book at the Phoenix School, one I was supposed to toss into the fire. But the size and weight of it had intrigued me, and I just had to look inside. The book was called
The Odyssey
, an epic poem translated from ancient Greek, and it included a story about a beautiful girl named Helen, who was stolen from her husband and taken to the city of Troy. Helen and Troy — such a funny coincidence. I wonder if their parents had loved
The Odyssey
.

I’m gnawing on my lower lip and my eyebrows are scrunched down as I recall the few pages I managed to read before a Phoenix supervisor yelled at me to throw the book into the flames. The more I remember, the more the ideas start to swirl in my mind; I can feel the beginning of a plan tingling in the back of my brain.