Extinction (13 page)

“Thank you,” he said.

But Piper felt the echo of her earlier sorrow deep inside, and the way it resonated with the news that they’d be leaving the palace was troubling.
 

She couldn’t shake the feeling that even as the world fell apart, the process of judgment wasn’t yet over — and that by running, they were doing exactly what the judge, jury, and executioners expected them to do.
 

CHAPTER 15

“Welcome to the Hideout,” Ella said, smiling, as they reached a nondescript spot behind an alley dumpster.
 

She extended her hand to knock on a graffiti-covered door, but it opened before her knuckles could touch the metal surface. To Clara, the whole thing looked like an empty ritual. Ella didn’t look like she’d expected to actually knock (her fist wasn’t even clenched) and the red-haired boy who opened the door didn’t seem surprised to see them.
Any
of them, including Clara.
 

He stepped aside, allowing their entry.
 

When Clara saw that they meant to let her in without so much as a nod, she extended her hand to the boy.

The boy took it, but did so limp-handed, halfheartedly, as if irritated by the distraction that had required him to open the door. It seemed like he wasn’t a greeter so much as the person closest to the door when he’d felt their presence beyond it.
 

“I’m Clara.”
 

“I know.”

After a pause, her hand already dropped, she said, “What’s your name?”
 

The boy looked at Nick. Then Nick, not the boy, said, “This is Cheever.”
 

“That’s an unusual name.”
 

“It’s a nickname,” Nick said. His real name is — ”

“Don’t say it,” Cheever said.
 

(Eugene)
, Clara heard in her mind.

Nick smiled like a little devil.
 

They were still standing around awkwardly, Cheever looking as if waiting to be excused. He seemed to be a year or two younger than Nick, not much older than Clara but with a teenage-sized chip on his shoulder. His hair was the color of a dirty carrot, and his eyes were green. He had a sloppy, slouched look about him, his blue T-shirt rumpled.
 

“Nick and Ella found me in a — ”

“In that house on Divinity Avenue,” the boy finished. “The one with the broken rear window and the busted fence. You’re Viceroy Dempsey’s granddaughter. You’ve spent most of your life in a palace or wandering, so you’re new to communicating in a network. And right now you’re trying to figure out how I know everything you told these two, even though it should be obvious. And — ”
 

He stopped then turned to Nick. “What’s this?”
 

Clara looked at Cheever, expecting to see something curious in his hands. Instead, she saw nothing, except that she could feel mental fingers poking at the memory of the strange voice she’d seemed to hear — the one that had stopped her dead on the street on their way here.
 

“Something she kinda remembered on the way over. It’s not important.”
 

“Sure seems important.
She
thinks it’s important.”
 

Clara’s mouth opened. She was considering an objection but wasn’t sure what to protest. Was it more offensive that they were casually discussing a personal mental event that she’d shared with no one, or that they were talking
about
rather than
to
her?

“She’s just getting used to things. Give her a break, huh?”
 

“I dunno. Feels like something she’s hiding.”
 

“I’m not hiding anything,” Clara said.
 

“And she’s … ” He trailed off, focusing, and Clara felt the mental fingers digging deeper. The sensation was intrusive. She tightened instinctual muscles and found she could push him back. But not before he reached something else.
 

“She’s been with those guys. The whatchacall’em?”
 

“Mullah,” Clara said, preempting her blown not-really-a-secret.
 

“Did you know that when you picked her up?”
 

“No,” Nick said. “But what, were we supposed to
not
go out and get her? You felt it same as me, asshole.”

“It’s nothing,” Clara said.
 

“I knew,” Ella said. “She told me all about it.”
 

Clara hadn’t, but she
had
been thinking about Sadeem and Quaid and the others. Reliving the … the
attack?
… in the Mullah tunnels had felt like a conversation with herself. Maybe she’d been chatting with Ella without even knowing.
 

“It’s no big deal,” Ella said. “They kidnapped her.”
 

“They didn’t really kidnap me.”

“What then?” Cheever asked. “You know the reputation those guys have? We’ve been dodging them since we made this place. Now they’ve probably followed you here. Great job, Nicholas.”
 

“They didn’t follow us,” Nick said.
 

“You know she’s hiding something. You saw it same as me.”
 

Clara decided she’d better defend herself before someone else had to do more of it for her.
 

“It was just something I was thinking about. On the way over here, it was like I sorta heard something, or remembered it from a long time ago. The way you’ll hear someone hum and not remember what song it’s from. You know?”
 

Cheever was still half frowning, unconvinced.
 

“And the Mullah didn’t do anything bad. Mostly they wanted to know about me. About us.”
 

“Right. Us. And you told them, did you?”
 

“Relax,
Eugene,”
Nick said. “It’s not like she could have told them about the Hideout or any of us anyway.”
 

“No, but she cooperated. And now they know how we think.”
 

“Why is that important?” Clara asked.
 

“I dunno,” Cheever said, crossing his arms. “It just is.”
 

Nick rolled his eyes and pushed past the boy, leaving him behind. The space ahead was just as Clara had seen it in her head, but seeing it physically brought it to different reality. It was large and open, like a converted warehouse. She saw the poster nook and even the paint-covered couch, but with proper eyes she noticed countless details. Industrious inhabitants had somehow strung lines from the high ceiling to suspend privacy curtains. Some had fancy beds that no kid could carry alone — and that two couldn’t carry other than piece by piece.
 

She had so many questions, but the decorating scheme was too far down the priority queue. She followed Ella and Nick through the cavernous space, mentally itching at the spot Cheever had been so suspicious of. Heads turned as they walked. Could everyone see it? Were they all as suspicious as Cheever?

I don’t even know what it is
.
How can they blame me for something that came at me out of the blue?

And Ella’s voice answered, even though she’d meant to talk only to herself.
 

(Lightborn aren’t used to secrets.)

I don’t mean to keep a secret!

(It’s not your fault, Clara. There’s just never anything we can’t all share, is all.)

The idea made her skin crawl. Was there truly nothing personal here? Did they all mentally see each other changing and using the bathroom? When a girl got a crush on a boy, was he able to laugh at her affection right away rather than the girl being able to stew for a while first?
 

“Ella’s right, Clara,” Nick said aloud. “Don’t listen to Cheever. He’s a dick. All that matters is what Logan thinks.”
 

Clara was about to ask who Logan was, but by looking inside herself she found the answer. He was this group’s leader. And by looking deeper, following mental branches like a river delta, she could see more of him: Logan was sixteen, wore glasses, and had grown up in Austria before being shuttled here by his now-deceased family. She had his whole dossier. It was there for the browsing, open as a book.

“Logan’s sixteen,” Clara said.
 

“It’s okay. He’s cool.”

“No. I mean … ” She stopped, realizing her question would apply to Nick, too, as well as many of the assembled Lightborn. “I thought Lightborn kids came from being born near a ship.”
 

“There’s a few kinds. You’ll learn. We all think sorta as one big brain, but at different levels. And we all shine a bit different. Ella’s pretty bright, I’m a bit dimmer, Cheever’s unfortunately pretty bright considering he was born before Astral Day, Logan’s okay … Look around once you’re settled, and you’ll see.”
 

“What about me?”
 

Nick laughed. “You’re super-bright, Clara. Like, really
light
out of all the
Light
born. It was kind of hard
not
to see you the second you came out from the palace or those tunnels or wherever you were. That’s the reason Cheever’s all up your butt about that thing in your head. We can all wall off parts of ourselves, but usually it’s not something we notice unless the rest of our brightness is turned up to eleven, like yours.”
 

“I swear. I’m not trying to keep a secret.”
 

Nick nodded shortly. “I know. I’m not Cheever.”
 

He moved ahead. But the feeling of needing to divulge — of needing to make amends for the secret she hadn’t asked for — was pressing.
 

“Nick?”

“Yes?”
 

“I think I can hear the Astrals. There’s this sensation of whispers. It’s English in my head, and it sounds to me like whispering kids, but … well, I’m new to this, but I don’t think it’s you guys. I think it’s them. My way of imagining
them.”
 

Nick waited a second before nodding again.
 

“That’s what Logan thinks, too. That we’re tapped into them, and they might not even know it.”
 

Clara looked around, searching for their sixteen-year-old leader. But among the Lightborn, people didn’t need speech to agree.
 

“So that loud alarm thing we heard? It was, like — ”
 

“Like a timer going off,” Nick said. “It was right before the water became like blood. So … ”
 

“Right. A timer.
Time to unleash the plagues.
That must be it.”
 

He started to walk away again with Ella by his side. But Clara, unmoving, still felt an itch. Something else bothered her about this. Something she’d been rolling over inside her mind — somewhat guarded since she’d realized how easily her thoughts were being read. And now here in the Hideout, she realized it was something she didn’t sense in the hive mind. Something that rang funny about all of this.

About the plague they’d already had.

Abut the plagues the citizens seemed to be anticipating next.

There had been a King James Bible in the craphole they’d stayed in outside Roman Sands, and Clara, then just six, had read it cover to cover. She knew what came next. By now, in these apocalyptic times, pretty much everyone knew what to expect once the rivers turned bloody.

“Nick?”

Nick and Ella turned.

“There’s more. I don’t know if it’s just a feeling or if someone told me and I forgot, but I’ve sorta been … hiding it, I guess. Not on purpose, but … ”
 

“What?”
 

“I can’t shake the sense that they gave us plagues
because we expected plagues
. Because that’s what people think happens when the world ends.”

Nick turned fully around then walked back. The mood on his face was unreadable.
 

“What does that mean, Clara?”

She swallowed and said, “What if this is all just a show — and that whatever they’re
really
doing and whatever they’re
really
after is something totally different?”