Z 2135 (16 page)

Instead of confessing, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. See you tonight.”

He winked and left Liza’s office.

Time to find Adam.

Adam had never been to Keller’s apartment before. Even though they had been spending time together—the Chief had spent hours walking him to and from class, speaking to him on his personal com, and sending mail for Adam to check in with him once finished with his Academy day—he was still surprised to get the dinner invitation.

Work was work, but home was home.

The Chief lived in the high apartments, and his place was even bigger than Arnold Denny’s. The ceilings were high, the walls wide and white, sparse but for a few pictures of his son. His wife, Jacqueline, barely said a word, though she did smile a lot and made Adam feel like she was happy that they were together, sharing a meal.

Before coming over, the Chief had asked Adam what he wanted for dinner, and said that he could pick anything—rations didn’t matter. Adam told him that he had once tried something called lasagna, and he thought it was the best thing he had ever eaten. Adam asked if he could have that. The Chief said, “Of course.” The scent was the first thing to hit Adam’s nostrils when Ms. Jacqueline opened the door.

Adam had already finished thirds—the Chief must not have been kidding—rations really didn’t matter in the high apartments—and Ms. Jacqueline had already left the table when Adam finally gathered the courage to ask about his unexpected invitation.

“Why did I invite you to my place?” the Chief repeated Adam’s query. “Well, because you deserve it, son!”

“Why?” Adam asked, insistent as he thought of the many things he had started but not finished. He still didn’t know how to best help the Chief after his ride-along, and Keller had changed the subject the few times Adam had asked.

The Chief laughed. “You are so modest … and yet, it isn’t even modesty. That’s just
one
of the things that makes you so special, Adam. You are well beyond your peers in all the ways that matter. You might not score the highest on aptitude, and might not be the fastest on field, but you are always strong where it matters most—living your life with honor and dignity, clinging to a better future despite the odds, and knowing that it’s always best to be alone if the choice is inferior company.
You
are a remarkable Cadet, Adam, and even if I’d not been hearing stories about you since before you could walk, I’d still be impressed with the Cadet you are, and the Watcher you’ll certainly be.”

The Chief always did that, talked about everything in general terms, never saying
exactly
what he meant. Adam wanted to know what he was doing right and what he was doing wrong, because he wanted to know what he could be doing better.

“Ah, I can see you’re looking for something more.” The Chief smiled at Adam, reading his mind as usual. “Very well. Why don’t we start with yesterday: your walk home from the arcade, where you helped
six
on-duty officers apprehend a terrorist. Six officers and three hovers. Nine assets on the street and not one found the perp. That was you, and only you, Adam. Excellent job.”

“But I didn’t
do
anything. The man ran by me, then I saw the Watchers searching in the wrong place, so I told them where to look. He was right across the street.”

“You really don’t realize what it is that you do, do you?” The Chief asked with genuine wonder. The Chief slapped his hand on the table, shaking his head at the idea. “You see, so many of these Cadets act like tough guys, like they know everything, but it is your quiet confidence and your humility that makes you ideal Watcher material.”

A shiver of pride went down Adam’s spine, and it was that that gave him confidence for his next question. “Who was he?” Adam asked. “The terrorist, I mean.”

“Underground scum,” the Chief spat, as if ridding spoiled milk from his mouth. “The one you helped find had been brought into custody already, but managed to escape. We’re still not sure how; he must have had inside help. And
that’s
the insidiousness I’ve been speaking of, Adam. The cancer. Grabbing this man was a victory for City Watch, Adam. A big one, and we have
you
to thank for it.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did; it’s what he
could have
done, and what he was surely planning. The man was Underground, so his ill intent could be focused on anything: destroying City infrastructure, killing random citizens to cause unrest behind The Walls, blowing up a school filled with innocent children. You know The Underground, Adam—it is infested with weeds strangling all the good we’re doing here. But now, thanks to you,” he said, repeating those words throughout the dinner like a mantra, “we’ve yanked another weed by the root. If all goes well, this man will lead us to other rotten spots in our garden. Once found, we will stomp down their resistance and keep our City safe. One down and many protected. So when I say
thank you
on behalf of City Watch and The State, forget humble long enough to take your bow.”

“You’re welcome,” Adam said. He wanted to ask about the dead people in the store, if they were terrorists too. But before he could bring it up, the Chief’s eyebrows were raised like he wanted to talk about something else.

“Now,” Keller said, “tell me about your ride-along.”

Adam had been waiting for the Chief to ask about the ride-along ever since he went, but now that he was sitting across from the Chief, in his house, Adam was having a hard time deciding which words were best to use.

He could tell the Chief what happened, but wasn’t sure that was right. Adam could see where Fogerty and Carson were coming from. They seemed like good Watchers, trying to do their jobs. He didn’t want to get them in trouble.

The Chief said, “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Everything was fine at first,” Adam started, nervously scratching his left palm. “We went into The Dark Quarters, which was scary like I always thought it would be, but even dirtier. There were a lot of people doing bad things in the streets like everyone always says, mostly selling stuff, including women.” Adam turned from the Chief, embarrassed. “We parked and walked for a block then went into this market where Fogerty and Carson met this big black guy; he looked like a giant. The guy gave Carson and Fogerty a tip about someone named Little Mitch and told them about a dead woman, then we went to this place called the Orient Hotel to question Little Mitch. We were in there for a while, and I had to sit in the corner while they questioned him, but Little Mitch didn’t want to talk, and wouldn’t no matter what.”

Adam stopped for a second, thinking about what he should say next, and how to say it, still not wanting to get either Watcher in trouble. But Adam also didn’t want to disappoint the Chief, who was looking to him for the best possible information, counting on Adam to see what he couldn’t—things people did when the boss wasn’t looking.

The Chief sat across from Adam, patiently smiling like always. Adam drew a breath.

“They finally got Little Mitch to talk … but only after they started hitting him.”

No surprise in his voice, the Chief said, “Which Watcher did the striking, Adam: was it Carson or Fogerty?”

“Carson.”

“Very well,” the Chief smiled. “Is that it?”

Adam nodded. “Was that bad?” he asked. “Did the Watchers do the wrong thing?”

“What do you think?” the Chief asked, leaning back in his chair, waiting for Adam to answer.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I guess it’s good if they got what they needed to stop other bad stuff from happening. And that the man who killed the woman got justice.” Adam thought for a second, less certain over his next words, but thinking they seemed like something the Chief would want to hear. “It was in The Dark Quarters, so it probably matters less, doing that to someone there, I mean, than it would out here, right?”

“Yes,” Keller nodded, “that is correct. But it isn’t just about The Dark Quarters, Adam. It’s about safety for us all. Realize: most things aren’t black and white, especially now, when our survival depends on us thriving here behind the Walls. I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully, Adam … violence is sometimes justified. Take The Underground scum you helped to apprehend. Do you think we should leave that man to rot in his cell, or do you think we should question him and discover what he knows and who he’s working with, digging deep so we can prevent the atrocities that he and his cohorts have planned? I mean, he’s not going to just tell us willingly, is he?”

“No,” Adam said.

“And City Watch is here to protect the citizens, right? Shouldn’t we make sure these terrorists are stopped
before
they kill random citizens?”

“Yes,” Adam nodded.

“The only way to stop these monsters is to find their den, burn the nest, and slay their masters. If we don’t do it, who will? Who will protect our citizens?”

Adam thought, then shook his head, “Nobody,” he said firmly.

“You will face this sort of situation constantly as a Watcher. Say you knew someone was going to do something awful. For instance, you know a man who regularly beats his wife is about to go too far; out of control, he’ll certainly kill her. If we wait for him to commit the crime, we’re too late and the poor woman is dead. But if we can stop it through intervention, isn’t that the right thing to do?”

Of course it was.

Adam nodded.

“What if there were a simple sign to follow? What if you had a way to stop this horrible man before he committed his horrible crime? Would you stop something awful before it started, or wait until it was too late?”

Adam would never want to wait until it was too late.

But I did wait until it was too late.

He felt suddenly guilty, awful. He felt sick as he put two and two together and realized he was at least partly responsible for what had happened to his mother. Adam should’ve seen the signs that his father would kill her.

It’s all my fault.

Trying not to cry, he said, “I would have done something, but I didn’t know! I
couldn’t
have known. I wasn’t a Cadet—I didn’t know how to see the signs!

“I could have saved my mom!”

The Chief leaned toward Adam, face relaxed and friendly. He set his hand on top of Adam’s. “Don’t feel bad, son, or blame yourself. Your father’s signs weren’t obvious. None of us saw them. Hell,
I
didn’t even see them. You can’t blame yourself or feel guilty. It isn’t your fault. But,” he leaned even closer, “don’t you think when you
are
able to see it, that you
ought
to do something?”

“Yes.”

“So don’t you think that Carson and Fogerty were doing exactly what they were
supposed
to be doing? What was best for The City?”

Yes, it did seem that way … but Adam didn’t like all the gray that changed so many things between right and wrong. Like when the Chief told him to stick up for himself with Tommy and Morgan and Daniel, then gave him a weapon to teach them a lesson.

“How do I know when doing bad things is right?”

“That’s one of the things that’s great about you, Adam. The fact that you would even ask. I can’t pretend that City Watch is pure—we have our share of thugs, men who should probably be in The Games. But that’s
not
what we stand for. The fact that you’re asking all the right questions further proves I’ve been right about you all along. You have a strong moral center, and believe in the greater good, even if it means you must sometimes soil your fingertips to carry out an unfortunate but necessary decision.”

The Chief’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes being good requires you to be around bad people. And maybe even sometimes be a little bad yourself. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Adam nodded.

“That’s good,” the Chief said, leaning back in his chair. “Because I’d like for us to discuss your friend, Michael.”

Ana’s pain had mostly subsided. It was still there, but as an echo, dull and throbbing. She wondered if the dulling was a good sign, that maybe the infection had seeped into her body enough to become a part of it, rather than a disruption. That meant Ana was hours from turning, or her body was finally fighting the virus and staving infection. She might be safe for who-knew-how-long, like Duncan.

Ana didn’t want to turn, but also loathed the thought of losing control unwittingly, being a liability. She mostly feared turning in her sleep and being a danger to Liam.

It wasn’t fair.

He should kill me.

She wanted to beg him to kill her, but knew Liam would argue with her endlessly if she did.

Even with the pain mostly faded, Ana’s thoughts were still muddy. Nothing made sense like it should. Good thoughts clashed with bad, and she had trouble stringing one event into the next. They left Paradise, found camp—the flight from Paradise to the tree was a blur—then woke in the morning to a Band below them. Liam managed to tow her to The Outback, and keep them alive long enough for Balon to send a miracle, but the memories were wavy and barely seemed real, Ana couldn’t be sure that some weren’t a dream.

I’m a danger to Liam.

Worse than the confusion, Ana couldn’t stop thinking about things that had nothing to do with her present situation, and would only get her into trouble for falling captive to their worry.

Like Adam.

She couldn’t stop thinking about her little brother, couldn’t stop worrying about what was happening to him at Chimney Rock. It was hard for Adam to connect with people. Kids like him didn’t belong in a place like the Rock. Without her protection, he must be at the mercy of miserable bullies wanting to ease their own pain by smearing some of it onto others.

Ana fought back her tears so Liam wouldn’t ask what was wrong. The few times she had mentioned Adam during their journey, she had fallen apart. If she fell apart now, she might not be able to stand.

She kept moving forward, while trying to sort out the past.

She couldn’t believe how much life had changed in a year. Ana missed her mom and dad and Adam, but more than anything, she missed the life they shared. She missed her friends, missed Michael, missed her father’s stories. She missed Adam’s compassion and the miracles her mother made with their rations.

I want to die before I kill Liam.

Finally, after hours of walking mostly in silence, Ana said out loud what she’d been thinking since The Outback.

“I think you should kill me tonight.”

Liam laughed. “Maybe someday, sweetheart. When you’re foaming at the mouth and chomping for my face. Right now I think I like you better breathing.”

“I’m serious, Liam.” And she was. Ana couldn’t stop thinking about Duncan turning, so sudden and unexpected. Duncan had loved Ana like a daughter in the short time they’d spent together. If he could have avoided biting her, he would have. If Duncan didn’t hesitate to bite her, that meant she probably wouldn’t be able to stop herself from biting Liam.

“I’m not discussing this, Ana.”

She countered, “
You
could make it to Hydrangea. It would be easier without me. Once there, you can tell my dad everything. Whatever Sutherland wants, I’m sure you can help him with it as well as I can. Probably better.”

“No, Ana. Maybe the infection will subside if you’re resting somewhere. I mean Duncan must’ve been infected for quite a while, right? You don’t know how long you have, and I don’t think we need to do anything rash before we know what’s going to happen. You’re fine so far, and I’ll keep my eyes out. That has to be enough.”

“OK,” she said, not particularly
wanting
to die, grateful for Liam giving her reason to believe she shouldn’t … for a little longer, anyway. If he believed there was hope, maybe there was a glimmer. She added, though, “But I need you to keep talking. Otherwise my mind starts circling the worst.”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. I was quiet on purpose. I thought you wanted to be alone with your thoughts, and I was trying not to interrupt.”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Liam. Alone with my thoughts. That’s the last place I want to be. I feel too much all the time, I think. Right now it’s torture; I’m feeling too much in all the wrong ways—my insides and outsides aren’t matching. Does that make sense?”

Liam laughed. “No, not at all, but it doesn’t need to. You’ve been bitten, you’re sick. You were almost raped or killed. You want something to move your mind from the pain. That’s what I’m here for.” His face brightened with an idea.

“Let’s play
I Wish
.”

Ana looked at Liam. “What’s
I Wish
?”

“You’ve never played
I Wish
?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Not even once. What is it?”

“A game we used to play at Chimney Rock.”

“Who’s we?”

“Everyone. You’re the first person, maybe in history, to ever ask what it is.” Liam laughed at her like he always did when she felt clueless. Ana punched him in the arm, softly, like she did when feeling exposed under his laughter.

“Well, sorry for having an OK life before all the murder and The Darwins.”

Liam laughed. “
I Wish
is what we would play when everything else seemed too awful to stand. All you do is make a wish: if you could change one thing, what would that one thing be? Then you think about that wish for the rest of the day, pretending it was true. It’s said a man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture each day, to never forget who he is and what makes him that way. I think a man should never go a day without wishing for what most think impossible, if only to trim the thorns off life’s bushes.”

“That sounds great, Liam. I would very much like to engage in some wishing this fine afternoon.” She said the words like she was fancy, living in the high apartments.

“What’s your wish?” he asked. “It can be for whatever you want.”

“Oh,
I
don’t want to go first,” Ana said. “Let’s start with your wish.”

“Ladies first.”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m the one who was bitten by our friend the zombie preacher; that means I decide. OK, done. You’re going first.”

Liam laughed louder. “OK, I guess that’s fair. Let me think.” After a moment, he said, “I wish that West Village hadn’t been burned.”

Ana said, “You’re not going to wish that your father didn’t kill himself, or that you got to live with your Uncle M after your father died, or that you’d never been thrown into The Games?”

“Sure,” Liam said, “I wish all that stuff. But when you play
I Wish
you have to pick one wish and focus on only that wish. All the smaller ones revolve around it. There’s no limit to how many times you can play
I Wish
, or what you can wish when playing. The game’s point is to pick a spot in time, then think how your world would change on the back of that wish.”

“So how would things have changed if West Village was never burned?”

I like this game.

“Well, we still would have had The Games, but The Games brought us closer, which I’m happy about. And The Games led you and Duncan to the truth about me and what I’d done in ratting out your father, which I would’ve been too scared to ever admit on my own. Once you were safe, the only other thing I wanted was outside The Walls. Maybe Chelle and I could’ve been happy in West Village. Maybe your dad would have found us. Maybe Duncan wouldn’t have turned. Maybe we could’ve all had our own little Happily Ever Afters.”

Ana listened as Liam kept on with his maybes. When it was her turn she said, “I wish I’d given my dad the benefit of the doubt. I wish I’d had it inside me to believe him.”

“That’s not your fault, Ana,” Liam stopped walking, turning to find her eyes. “You saw something awful, and your mind had no other way to process it. What you saw, and how your brain interpreted it, has nothing to do with the relationship you have with your father—wrong, right, or indifferent. You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I’m not beating myself up, Liam. I’m making a wish, like you told me to. You never said there were
rules
to wishing. You said I could wish whatever I wanted.”

“You can. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to tell you what to wish; I just don’t want you to feel bad about your dad, or flog yourself any more than you already have.”

“Fine,” Ana said, cutting him off before he was finished. “I wish for a cure.”

Liam sighed. “That’s a good wish.”

“Do you think there will ever be one? A cure? I don’t mean for me; it’s too late for that, I just mean in the world. Do you think scientists are still working on it?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, “of course. I think they’ll always be working on it, but I don’t know enough about science or medicine to guess that we’ll get one. So far every so-called breakthrough leads to nothing. The Reels report each one like it’s
the one
, but it never is. Still, I figure some sort of cure has to be possible since some people aren’t infected.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know that?” Liam looked at Ana. “Infection isn’t guaranteed. Did you hear about the research assistant who killed himself about five years ago?”

“No.”

He was part of a State team researching a cure. The labs are high security, the highest, because they have to make sure the virus never leaves. But he was suicidal, and wanted to put it in his body. He did, but it didn’t take. The State found out and wanted to run experiments, see what was different about his blood or DNA from everyone else. He outsmarted The State, and killed himself while they waited.”

“Do you think Duncan might have been temporarily cured or something? I can’t imagine how else he stayed alive so long. Unless, like you said before, maybe there are different strains, some that take longer.”

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “Anything’s possible, I guess.” Liam stopped. “You sure you’re not hungry?” It was his fifth time asking in the past two hours or so.

“I’m fine, I promise. Let’s keep going, OK?”

Liam agreed like he had four times before, even though Ana could tell he didn’t want to.

They walked through another hour of
I Wish
, and then a few other similar games, and finally made camp just inside a cave that seemed safely isolated from possible bandits or zombies.

Ana was exhausted and couldn’t have walked more, even if she had wanted to.

Liam made her comfortable, gathered wood for a fire, secured the area, and then went out to catch, skin, and cook a hare.

After dinner, Ana lay on her side and asked Liam to tell her a story to relax her mind.

“Just, please, no more stories about Uncle M and his steaks.”

Liam laughed, and she liked its music.

As he started talking about the first time he realized how beautiful The Barrens actually were—once you got over their danger—Ana started to drift, trying not to think about how she might not wake human.

And trying to convince herself that she would live long enough to see her father. She wasn’t sure what she’d say when she finally did.

Sorry I testified? Sorry I didn’t believe you?

She wasn’t sure when Liam had stopped telling his story, or if she’d been asleep and then woke. She could feel him lying beside her. She could hear the fire crackling. Feel its flames licking her skin.

Despite everything, Ana felt, in that moment, safe.

Safe, cozy, and warm.

She felt warmer when Liam’s lips brushed her cheek.

“Good-night, Ana.”