E (32 page)

Convincing Miranda to return with me to the safe house is not
easy, but she has nowhere else to go.  Eventually she concedes. 
Apollon and Jonas will have wanted to move on to a new location, but they will
wait for me.  We trudge through the snow silently, except for the rubbery
crunch of our footprints, and slip through a hole in a wooden fence, then in
through the back door.  It's an old structure made mostly of warped
boards, with gaps in between that let too much wind come in.  There's no
light, and no sound but our footsteps.  It only takes a moment to realize
that no one else is here.

"Where are they?" whispers Miranda. 

I shake my head.  Did they leave without me?  Did they
hear what happened?  Do they think I'm dead?  Or is this place no
longer safe?  I grab Miranda's arm and pull her toward the back way. 
We jog for the fence, and Miranda slips through first. 

"Where will we go?" she asks, turning back as I begin to
climb through, then she starts suddenly.  A hand over her mouth muffles
the scream.

“Quiet," hisses Apollon, his large silhouette looming behind
her. 

The tension runs out of my body.  "Trying to scare us to
death," I whisper as I squeeze on through.

He glances off toward the end of the fence, where there is
movement.  This time, I start.  Then I recognize the smoothness of
the gait.  Jonas is walking toward us.  I have to restrain myself
from running to him.  I take a deep breath, feeling emotion wash through
me.  Life.  Being alive.  And I have felt dead for so long.

"Neveah thought she saw one of Matt's men outside.  We
had to move," Jonas murmurs as he stops in front of us.

I nod, still floating in the high waters of emotion.  Maybe
it's the relief of escaping.  Of being found.  Being with the people
who matter to me.  Now is definitely not the time, but tears are pressing
against the backs of my eyes.  My throat is tight.

"You OK?" Jonas asks, placing one hand on my shoulder.

Again, I nod.  It's all I can do, so I nod, and blink, and
start moving, even though I'm not sure where we're going.

It doesn't matter, because they fall in beside me, and together,
we walk the path to our new safe house.

This one is not much more than a shed, but it blocks the wind, and
hides us, and that's really all I can ask for.  Neveah is there waiting
for us.  There are hugs now, to celebrate our reunion.  Miranda is
welcomed in without chastisement, no questions.  She and Neveah sit
against the wall together, arm in arm, looking for all the world like a mother
and daughter.

It's a thought I should not have allowed myself right now, because
it brings to mind images that are still too fresh, too raw.  I choke off a
sob, hand flying to my mouth to try to smother the noise, but it's too
late.  Jonas and Apollon, on either side of me, turn to look at me. 
I press my back against the wall and slide down, closing my eyes, holding my
breath.  They crouch beside me, touching my arms, saying my name.  I
clamp my eyes against any further tears, shaking my head.  I'm so tired of
crying all the time.

There's a long silence.  Eventually, I open my eyes, and
stare at my lap.  My breaths are even now.  I will not cry.  But
they're still looking at me, studying me.

Jonas turns his face to Miranda.  His voice is soft,
dark.  "What happened?"

Miranda's eyes widen slightly, then dart between us.  She
shakes her head ever-so-slightly, her lips parting.

Jonas' eyes harden as he looks at her.  "What
happened," he repeats.  His voice demands to be answered.

"I'm fine," I mutter, hoping it will be enough. 
Hoping I won't have to explain everything.  Hoping Miranda will not tell
them what she walked in on when she rescued me. 

Jonas rubs my arm soothingly, encouragingly.  "Where
were you," he asks softly.  "We've been looking for you since we
heard about the Sentry."

I look up at him, now.  He heard?  It must be all over
the Outpost.  I am a giant-killer.  But still, I don't want to tell
this story.  I'm tired.  I haven't really had time to think about all
that's happened.  I just want to sleep it off.

"Matt got her," Miranda says, matter-of-factly,
apparently deciding that she'd better spill.  "He thought she killed
the damned thing.  Like actually killed a Sentry."  She laughs
bitterly, wipes her hand over her forehead and down her cheek, rolling her
eyes.  "Wouldn't that be great," she adds.  "Imagine
if Matt suddenly got rid of all the Sentries."

Jonas' eyes narrow as he looks from her to me.  "So...
you didn't kill it?"

My face is already turned downward, but I lower it more. 

"Of course she didn't kill it," Miranda says. 
"They're not killable.  It malfunctioned, OK?  Probably
corrosion in the conversion stream or something.  Lucky as hell,
Eden."

Jonas says nothing, still looking at me.  Finally, he
nods.  He moves a touch closer to me, like he's closing the rest of them
out.  He leans in, touching my face, and asks in a whisper, "Did Matt
hurt you?"

I close my eyes, and manage to shake my head.  "Just
tired," I say. 

He lets go of me.  I allow my body to slump to the side,
leaning against Apollon, who puts an arm around me.  I rest my head on
him, letting myself sink into restfulness.  On the other side of me, where
my feet are now, Jonas sits against the wall, knees up, head back, eyes
closed.  He's maybe two inches from touching me, but it feels like he's on
the other side of the world.  I long to be leaning against him, instead,
but I stay where I am.  I stay, thinking I'm going to sleep, but I
don't.  So I'm still awake when he gets up and slips out the door, heading
off to command his troops, or plan his attacks, or whatever it is that will
lead us all to our quickening doom.

I awake to the sound of explosions.  Scrambling to my feet, I
realize I have been sleeping with my face on the cold floor.  Apollon is
gone.  Miranda and Neveah are standing at the door, though it's closed.

"What's going on?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

"Grey's men must be attacking the Outpost," Miranda
says, her voice reserved.  "They're battling at the wall."

I blink for a few seconds and try to focus.  I have a
headache like a big spike in my head.  "What about the Sentries? 
Won't they attack anyone in the battle?"

Neveah tilts her head at Miranda curiously.

She shakes her head.  "Grey was probably counting on
that," she says.  "But I wired the weapons so we could fire them
remotely.  From under cover.  Had to sacrifice our aim a bit, but I
think they'll still be OK.  At least, until the wall falls.  But by
then Sentries picking us off won't really matter."

"No wonder Matt let you live even after what I did."

She shrugs, a modest gesture with no modesty in it
whatsoever.  "Well," she says, "that, and I wasn't finished
making the adjustments to his big gun for the gate."

"Big... gun?"

She nods and frowns.  "Damned big gun, really. 
Lasers, too.  Dan built it special."

"I bet."  I take a moment to lean back against the
wall and close my eyes.  My heart pounds in my ears, and each time it is
like a mallet driving the spike deeper.  "So what do we do now,"
I whisper.  "Wait and see who wins?"  I open my eyes, and
Miranda is looking back at me.  We share our despair for a moment across
that open link.

Finally, she shakes her head and looks away, at the floor. 
"This sucks," she says.  "We're done for, either way,
now."

She's right.  If Matt wins, we're on the chopping
block.  If Jonas wins, we fall under Grey's control, and things just get
worse from here.  Living in hiding.  Probably just scraping by each
day, struggling to eat.  To stay alive.  I laugh softly through my
nose, remembering.  It really is pointless.  For a long time, we're
silent, listening to the boom and rattle of explosions and guns.  We sit
against the walls hugging our knees, looking at each other.  At first, I
expect that all the noise will resolve itself, and then someone will come, and
we will know, finally, what our fate will be.  But it just goes on and
on.  For hours, it goes on.

Finally, in a span of quiet between booms, Miranda asks, "Did
you kill it?"

I stare back at her.  I lick my lips.  "Yeah,"
I say quietly.  "I did."

Neveah sits forward suddenly from beside me, turning to gaze in
awe at my face.

I look from her to Miranda, and sigh.  My mind wanders over
what happened, as if perusing the pages of a book.  I remember sinking my
hand into the internal workings of the Sentry, grabbing the crystal.  I
didn't know what I was doing, but it was so familiar.  Familiar, because I
did it to the Sentry that was forming in my mind, when I was in the
chair.  I remember now, the same feeling, reaching into the midst of the
antlike creatures that were still writhing into the shape of the Sentry. 
They were letters, first, before they were ants.  Letters in my own
handwriting.

"I don't..." I begin, and falter, then try again. 
"I don't really understand it all.  Just... I must know
something.  I mean, I must have known something.  Before.  Like,
it's still there.  When I was in the VR machine, I saw all this weird
stuff.  Sentries.  And I killed one, but it was different.  I
was going to..."  My voice breaks.  "I was going to save
Oscar."  I close my eyes.  "I was going to save him, but I
couldn't.  You woke me up.  I mean... Matt woke me up."  I
wipe the tears that spill hotly over my eyelids, smearing them into my hair.

Miranda moves from across the room to beside me, and puts an arm
around me.  "Oh, Eden," she whispers.  "You couldn't
have saved Oscar.  He's gone.  It wasn't real.  He's gone,
now."

I close my eyes and lean into her, stifling a sob.  She's
right, of course.  He is gone.  But it felt so real.  I really
felt like I was going to save him.  Even when the real Sentry had me, even
when I pulled that thing from its chest, I thought it was about saving
Oscar.  But then, it wasn't.  It was just a pile of metal, and hating
it could not bring him back.

Neveah moves over, places one arm around me, and one arm around
Miranda, and we huddle together, hanging on to each other.  I still feel
the darkness of what is coming for us, but today, for the first time, I realize
that I will not face it alone.  It's a small comfort, but enough. 
Enough to get through another day.

***

Jonas and Apollon do not come back to us during the long,
explosion-riddled night, so the next day we go looking for them.  We slip
through the back streets quietly, though in truth, Matt is probably too busy
with the battle at the wall to be looking inward.  The main thing is to
avoid the Sentries, which will now have my profile memorized for immediate
kill.  We stay away from their main posts and walk carefully.  We
have no problems.

Elaina Sumter, dressed like a boy, is heading down a side
street.  On request, she takes us to our friends at a tumble of old
buildings near the shantytown. 

Neither Jonas nor Apollon look particularly thrilled to see
us.  They're busy, and stressed, and already overwhelmed without having to
look after us.  But Jonas says he's glad we came.  He wants us there,
with them, where they know we're safe.  So we sit off to one side while
they go on with their work.  I want to think of something else-- anything
else-- but I find myself listening, despite myself.

They're coordinating an attack, or a series of simultaneous
attacks, from within the gates.  Jonas is certain this will tip the
balance enough to allow Grey's army to penetrate the Outpost and take over once
and for all.  He and Apollon glance nervously toward us, then look at each
other.  They're wondering where they're going to hide us.  How
they're going to keep us safe.  Miranda, and Neveah, and I exchange our
own glances.  Our time is running out, thousands of grains of sand sinking
one, by one, by one, until there are only a few left to fall.

I close my eyes and listen to the booming in the distance. 
Since it began, it has never ceased.  As we walked here, there was smoke
and dirt hanging in dark clouds against the silver sky.  If only there was
another option.

My breath catches.  I sit up straight, hardly daring to think
it.  Scooting closer to Miranda, I turn my face toward her shoulder. 
I whisper, very lightly.  "Could you reprogram a crystal?"

"Crystal?" Miranda whispers, her eyes widening. 
"Is
that
what you pulled out of the thing?"  Her gaze
flickers with rapid calculations.  We stare at each other.  Neveah
scoots closer, leaning in to our huddle.

My heart thuds insistently in my chest, but I can barely bring
myself to ask, for fear of disappointment.  Finally I manage, "Can
we... is it possible to rewrite them?"  I swallow hard. 
"Make them do what we want?"

Miranda's eyes dart from side to side again, her lips
moving.  "Crystals?" she murmurs.

I nod.

She continues to process.

Neveah and I lean closer, holding our breath.

Finally, Miranda looks up.  She gazes from Neveah to me,
holds my gaze.  She's hesitating.  She doesn't want to tell me. 
We can't do it.

I look down, start to shake my head, but she grabs my hand. 
I raise my eyes to her face again.  She leans forward, mouth open but not
saying anything.  Then finally, the glaze falls away from her eyes and she
grimaces, her forehead working into a deep line.

"There are some things I would need," she says quietly,
darkly.

Neveah and I look at each other.

"What?" I ask, holding up my hands.  "Tell
me.  I'll get it."

She's already shaking her head.  "No," she says
softly.  "You don't understand.  Only Matt has them."

Silence falls over us, its weight pushing our hearts toward the
floor. 

My eyes narrow, my fingers curling into my palms.  "If
Matt has them, we can take them from him.  Almost all his men are on the
wall, now.  He's not guarding things.  He can't afford to."

But Miranda is still shaking her head.  "No, Eden,"
she says softly.  "What I need-- it's on the wall."

***

Miranda and I slip down the blackened tunnels, looking for the
alcove where I stashed the crystal.  She has a good sense of the
layout.  Between that, and what I remember, we find it without much
trouble.  Still, the walls are too close, the darkness encroaching. 
Miranda whispers that we're safer here, away from the fighting, but I don't
feel safe.  I barely manage to keep myself moving at an even speed. 
I want to run until I can find the open sky.

I pull the crystal from its hiding spot and place it in her
hands. 

She peers at me through the darkness.  "What are you
going to do?"

"I don't know," I say, "but I have to do
something.  Just do what you can, for now.  Try and be ready. 
We don't have much time."

She nods without speaking.

"Will it take you long?" I ask.  "I mean, once
we get the stuff?"

She shakes her head.  "Not long."  But she's
frowning.  She doesn't believe I'll find a way.

"Just do it," I growl, and stride away into the
darkness.

Taking it out on Miranda is pointless.  My agitation is born
of the confinement... and knowing that she's right.  I've been over it in
my head a hundred times.  Getting Jonas to rearrange his plans and take
what we need by force.  Only, I've got a better idea of the manpower behind
Jonas' cause, now, and, while they might be a thorn in Matt's side, they are a
long way from equaling him on open ground.  They work well as guerrillas,
but they're not suited to a major offensive on a heavily guarded area. 
Sneak attacks.  Surprise tactics.  There's no way we are getting our
hands on Matt's big gun.  Miranda insists nothing else in the Outpost will
do.  So we're back where we started.  Between a rock and a hard
place.

I pick my way back to Jonas' command, feeling like I've lost
everything all over again.  He sees me come in and pulls himself away from
his work, obviously reading the unhappiness on my face.

"Everything OK?" he asks, running his fingers down my
arms.  Before I can answer, he laughs, looking away.  "Of course
not," he says.  "I know.  I just...."

I want to share my disappointment with him, to tell him how close
I was to finding a way out for us, but can I distract him with this, when he
has so many other things to think about?  He's carrying enough on his
shoulders.  This little gem I've found has turned out to be fake.  A
waste of time.  False hope.  Energy channeled into nothing.  I
lower my eyes and look away.

He takes me by the arm and leads me outside, where the sky is a
calico pattern of crisp blue, cloud white, and smoky black.  We wander to
the side of the building and stand, listening to the not-too-distant sounds of
war.  Finally, quietly, he says, "We need to prepare.  You,
Miranda....  I've been trying to think of the best place to--"

"To hide us?" I snap impatiently, though I don't mean
to.  I take a deep breath, shake my head, and make sure my voice is softer
when I speak again.  "I hate this, Jonas.  I don't want to hide
for the rest of my life.  And I don't want to be a boy, either.  None
of this... None of it is right."

He moves closer and again puts his hands on my arms, ducking his
head toward me.  "I know," he says.  "You're
right.  But... we don't have any choice.  We just have to get through
this.  Then we'll find a way to deal with whatever comes later."

I gaze up at him, trying to hold back the emotion rising in
me.  I want to tell him that we won't get through it.  He may hope to
hide us, but realistically, when Grey takes over the Outpost, he will root out
anyone who is in hiding, making sure that none of his enemies survive to fight
another day.  There will be no place to hide.  But I can't tell Jonas
this, because he believes that he can protect me.  He's done so
much.  Risked so much.  I can't tell him that it will amount to
nothing.  Again, I look away.

Some of the shanties are within our line of sight.  Huddled
against the side of one of them is a little bundle of rags-- another sick or
starving child.  Before I know what I'm saying, I'm telling Jonas in a
choked whisper, "A little baby died in my arms yesterday.  I wanted
to help her.  But I couldn't.  She was just... gone."

There is nothing but silence for a long time.  When I finally
look at him, he's just staring at me, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.  I see that
little chill of horror, threading through him slowly.

I wrap my arms tightly around myself, looking again toward the
shanty and the ragged child.  "It's going to get worse," I say,
my morbid thoughts spilling forth even though I know I should keep them to
myself.  "When Grey comes, it's going to be even worse than
this."