While You Were Gone (24 page)

I hide away in my room with my Retrogressives book, ignoring his messages on my phone. But my sadness and confusion run so deep that not even van Gogh can save me. Whenever my mind wanders to him, wondering where he is or what he's doing, I remember his lies. So many lies. I let myself dwell on all of the times he fooled me into believing what wasn't true. Being the governor's daughter complicates things. It's difficult to know who to trust. When it's finally time to leave for school on Monday morning, I throw my stuff into my overnight bag. I leave the red dress hanging in the closet.

The Executive Tower buzzes with activity. It seems every government official is either here in person or on the phone. Dad's advisors pace the halls. They hardly notice me passing.

I stop at the door to Dad's office. He's leaning back on his desk, arms folded, surrounded by officials. Everyone is talking at once. Senator Hayes taps him on the arm and points at me.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Dad says, “but this young lady needs my attention.” He walks over, a sad smile on his face. “Heading back to school?”

I nod and glance at all the people. “What's going on?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.” He steers me into the hallway. “Listen, I'm sorry your night didn't turn out the way you wanted.”

“I'm sorry yours didn't either.”

He looks over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “Honey, I think it's best if you stick around school for a while, at least until things settle down.” Then he hugs me and says, “Don't worry, though. I've alerted security to keep an eye on you.”

When Jonas and I are a few blocks from the Tower, I see why.

DPC forces move in teams, rounding up people from businesses and homes. Men, women, children. They wait in long lines, single file, for their turn at the mobile registration units. All those Unknowns soon to be Knowns. I roll down my window. Sirens echo, ricocheting off the skyscrapers. A female voice repeats directions over the PA system. “Proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest DPC checkpoint. Your compliance is required.”

Neither Jonas nor I say anything as we drive through the streets. He only looks at me once in the rearview. When he does, his eyes are worried.

Farther out, protesters gather in approved areas cordoned off and guarded by soldiers. A parking lot here. A dirt lot there. Angry and shouting, they pound against the chain-link fencing and raise signs into the air. I'm surprised they aren't all carted away. I'm surprised they think their protesting will make any difference. But then, I was naive enough to think I could change the world, too.

Monday afternoon, Mom walks into the kitchen, holding a piece of paper. “This was on the front door.”

“What is it?” Dad asks, and she hands it to him. I get up from the couch and join them at the table.

When the announcement came blaring over the radio and TV this morning, I freaked. Out of nowhere, a female voice had said the city was on lockdown. It's crazy that they can just do that—decide no one is allowed to leave the house, go to work, go to the mailbox, play in the backyard. So here we sit, listening to trucks rumble up and down the street, trying to pretend we aren't all going crazy from the pressure and the not knowing.

“We have until sundown tomorrow to register with Skylar,” Dad says, letting the paper fall from his hands. He rubs his forehead. Mom throws her own hands up in frustration.

So that's that. Mac's attempt to shut down Skylar over safety concerns failed. Our plan to take out the system with M chips failed. Anytime now, Skylar will be switched on, I'll jump back to the other world, and this one will be clamped down in a state of constant surveillance.

Government wins. We lose.

Another truck rumbles by. Mom stops pacing and goes to the window. Dad picks up a pen and doodles on the Sunday paper still lying where I left it yesterday. Gripping the pen, he gives Governor Solomon a black eye and draws a pointed tail on the back of Senator Hayes. The conversation I overheard outside the ballroom drifts into my mind.

If people don't show, great. If they do, we run a false flag that exploits the system's weaknesses. Either way, we win.

“What does ‘false flag' mean?”

Dad doesn't look up. He's now defaced almost every picture on the front page. “Uh…” He moves to the inset photo of the flyer, transforming the bar-code-head guy into a skull. “It's when a group sets up an attack on its own people but blames someone else. Why?”

Thoughts begin to shift like puzzle pieces in my brain. At the castle, Germ accused Neil of trying to have us killed. Neil said it wasn't Red December. He said he didn't know who it was.
He knows it wasn't us,
the guy talking to Hayes said.
He thinks there's a real cell at work.

Dad tosses the pen down and walks into the living room. I scoot the paper over and look at Hayes through the doodles.
Either way, we win.

I turn the pages, searching for the face of the other man. It's difficult to see now that they've been scribbled over with blue ink. Finally, I find him in a small photo on page 3. In the caption is his name: Richard Tremblay, Governor Solomon's chief of staff.

The last puzzle piece clicks into place.

They set up the attack on Patriot Day so people would agree to sign up for Skylar.

“Dad,” I say, pushing myself up from the table. “I think I figured something—” But the words catch in my throat as my chest burns with ice. All I hear is static. My eyes cloud over and a girl's voice says, “I don't know.” I see a dark outline of her hair, but it's like looking through fogged-up glass. I feel Danny there, too, but it's different this time. Instead of him pushing me out of the way, we're both trying to stand in the same space. My skin feels tight. Cold shivers through me. Then the fog clears and my eyes begin to focus.

I'm in a room. Another kitchen. The walls pulse and everything glows with a halo. Books lie open on the table. She's leaning toward me, her hand on my knee, her face inches from mine.

“Danny?! Danny, no!”

Her voice hits me like a sledgehammer. It's the other Eevee. She doesn't want him to go.

I push against him, knock him back so hard it knocks me back, too. As I fall, I feel the tightness leave me. I land hard on the floor, my chest rippling with cold. Mom and Dad kneel beside me.

She doesn't want him to leave. What if
he
wants to stay?

What happens when he comes back and finds his whole world upside down?

After the near jump, Mom wouldn't let me out of her sight. She wanted to call for an ambulance, but Dad talked her out of it. He understood what had happened. “We don't want to draw attention to ourselves,” he said, and promised her we'd call the doctor in the morning. I did my own part, convincing her that I was tired (true) and hungry (also true). The grilled cheese sandwich and OJ did make me feel better. So did telling them what I overheard at the gala and what I thought it might mean.

“I certainly wouldn't put it past them,” Mom said, keeping her voice below the classical music.

Dad agreed. “Can't do much about it locked up inside, though.”

So we waited all day for them to announce the end of the lockdown, but the broadcast never came.

Outside, the street is finally quiet. Inside, we're quiet, too. Dad pats my knee twice before pushing himself up from his end of the couch and stretching. He kisses Mom, who's dozing in the chair, and says, “Go to bed.”

She yawns. “Have you been keeping an eye on Danny?”

“Danny's fine. It's late. Get some rest.”

She squeezes his hand, and he goes down the hall. We listen in silence to the sounds of him getting ready for bed. “You scared me today,” Mom says, her eyes drooping. Then she rests her head on her hand and sighs. “Wouldn't be the first time, though.”

“Really?”

“Oh, don't play innocent with me, young man. You know you love giving me a heart attack every chance you get.” She shifts in her chair and crosses her feet. Her voice is sleepy. “I remember when you were two. You were as cute as a button, running around the backyard with Holly. Aw, Holly.” She puts a hand on her chest. “Miss that dog. Anyway, you found a stick and decided it would be really great to run with it in your mouth. Do you remember what happened?”

I cringe. “I fell?”

She slaps her hands together to show the impact. “Oh, the screaming. Yours
and
mine. You scraped up your soft palate pretty bad. Lucky that's all you did. And would you believe we caught you doing the exact same thing a week later?” She shakes her head. “I swear, you and your father. So much alike.”

“You and I are alike, too,” I say, setting my foot by hers. “Look. Same toes.”

She scoots hers forward until they touch.

“I'm sorry I scared you.”

“I'll live.” She taps her foot on mine, then pushes herself up. I scramble to help her. “Are you sure you're okay?” she asks.

I hate lying to her, but it's for the best. “I'm sure.”

“Then I'll see you in the morning.” She lets me help her as far as the hall, then takes it from there.

I sit back on the couch and wait, looking at my toes, wishing I had time to hear all of her stories. When I'm sure they're both asleep, I pull on my shoes and sweatshirt, and slip quietly from the house. The way I see it, I have one last chance, and I'd better not waste it.