Meridian (8 page)

S
CHUYLER
detours at the edge of the Dark, returning with a dingy bundle that holds the robes the Fade wear to get close to the Arc. They reek, rotten as decomp, but Marina acts like she doesn’t notice.

The lamps are still burning across the Grey like midday sun.

“How long can they keep that up?” Marina asks, shielding her eyes.

“All night,” I tell her. “But they’ll fry the circuits.” The system isn’t ready for this kind of stress.

“Approach this direction.” Rueful veers into a diagonal, away from the brightest lights.

I knew he was lying about watching the Arc.

“We’re moving toward a dimmer section,” I say.

“So?” Marina asks. “You know they can’t cross on the ultra-brights.”

“The only way Nanobot would know where the dim lights are is if he’s been there to see it.”

“You saw, I saw,” Rueful says, and suddenly I can’t breathe. How much did those robo-bugs tell him about me?

He must keep talking because Marina’s face is getting more and more sour.

“That’s not funny,” she tells him. “You had no right.”

We walk a few steps, and then: “I sound angry because I
am
.”

More steps, and: “That’s not an apology, no matter how high you make your voice go at the end.”

I don’t think she knows how weird it looks when she speaks to him like that. Just like I doubt she notices that she’s stepping in his footprints. I glance back, and Dog and Whisper are doing the same thing. Only mine are out of step.

“Were you serious about there being a cloaked Fade at the boundary tonight?” Marina asks. It takes a minute to realize that one’s aimed at me.

“Who’s asking? You or the ink blot?”

“Tobin . . .”

“At least I insult
him
to his face,” I say.

“It’s a figure of speech, Rue,” she says, annoyed. “He knows that’s the back of your head.”

A pause, and then: “Because that’s what a figure of speech is. You say one thing, and mean another.”

Another pause, and she’s rubbing the back of her neck and grumbling.

“No, it’s not the same as lying.”

“You should answer her question,” Schuyler says to me, to end their argument. “Without speaking in figures.”

The first half sounds almost entirely human, but the end doesn’t.

“Was something observed on your perimeter tonight?” he asks.

“If there’s something dangerous lurking between here and the Arclight, I’d rather know,” Marina says.

I hadn’t considered that it could be something other than one of Rueful’s hive-mates, but when she says it like that, and with the Fade acting the way they are—

“It stayed hidden,” I say. “But it kicked up dirt when it moved, and it was smart enough to get out of range when I chucked a rock at it. By the time I thought to use my scope for a better look, it had gone.”

“Change course,” Rueful says, shifting us another few degrees to the side.

“Why are we taking the long way?” I ask.

We’re close enough to the short side that we don’t have to deal with the wind spouts that blow through the wider regions. Here, there are rocks and trees to break them, but Rueful’s directional shifts keep slowing us down. The Fade keep stopping, reacting to things beyond my senses.

“Rue says there’s danger,” Marina says.

“Can you hear anything?” I ask her.

“No,” she says, mumbling. Then, “That’s what scares me.”

Her senses are nearly as sharp as theirs. What’s stealthy enough to evade that?

I stop walking and try scanning the area with the light hanging off my wrist, but it’s clear.

“Continue, or return to home,” Rueful prompts.

“You’re going to stretch this out so long, the sun will rise before you have time to get back,” I tell him.

“This way is unobstructed,” he says, nodding the direction he wants us to go. He starts walking again. The other three do the same, in perfect sync, herding me and Marina along with them.

“What’s
obstructing
the other way?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Then why—”

“He doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.” Marina’s face pinches as she deciphers whatever hacked-up hash of an explanation he’s given her. “It’s nothingness. A void.”

“This is the Grey,” I say, sweeping my arms around. “It’s
all
a void.”

“Not like this,” she says, and shivers. “It’s there; it’s dangerous, but you can’t see it. It’s watching us.”

We stop talking, or at least I do, and if
they
still are, it’s not out loud. Rueful slows to a halt once we’re a few hundred meters from the Arc. There are trash piles and mounds of dry brush waiting to be used for bonfire fuel, but other than these, all that separates us from a straight shot back into the Arclight is fog.

Dog breaks right, and Whisper left, patrolling the Grey. Schuyler sticks with us.

“They observe the Dark,” Rueful says before anyone can ask.

“Tell them to make a diversion while they’re at it,” I say. “We could use one.” A glance at my wristband says we’re still at Red-Wall.

Getting help to Trey isn’t going to be as simple as visiting the hospital. This is security containment, and I really hope they haven’t finished repairing the White Room. If they have, that’s where he’ll be. We won’t be able to talk our way inside like the night Rueful was taken there.

“Tobin.” Marina taps my elbow. “We have a problem. Look—embers.”

She points to bits of burning grass floating through the air, too light to land before they’re snuffed out.

“Watch fires,” she says, grabbing Rueful’s hand. He draws back.

“They’re using them to fill the gaps where the Arc’s dimmer,” I explain. “That means heavy patrols—two watch the boundary, another two tend the fire. We can’t go that way.”

“Between is not safe,” Rueful says. “Choose a home—yours or ours.”

“We already chose. Follow me.” I head back for the brighter part of the Arc and then tuck myself behind one of the felled trees, where I’ve got a clear view.

“They can’t cross here,” Marina says.

“If security’s pumping this much power into the lamps, then they’re going to have skips.”

“What’s a skip?”

“Watch,” I say, waiting for the signs of an oncoming power cut. An embedded lamp flickers, sputters, then dies, leaving a narrow access point. “The connections are weak. I’ve counted that pattern out for four nights straight. It always cuts a ground light.”

“I guess you really are the guy to call if I want someone skilled at watching lights flick on and off.”

The light hums loudly, fizzling as the current floods through it again, and a column of bright white threads into the rest of the barrier.

“How often does that happen?”

“Every time they push the power. The blackout’s random, but you’ll see the top lamps flicker. The light below them goes dark.”

“Will we have enough time to make it across before the lights come on again?”

“We should,” I say, turning to Rue and Schuyler. “But we still have to watch for patrols.”

To prove the point, Mindy Olivet tromps by with her partner.

They stop near our glitch-point, scanning the area, and I stop breathing. Marina shrinks away from the guards’ shadows, but our stump’s not much cover. The lights have thinned the fog. Mindy will see us for sure.

Rueful grabs Marina, cupping his hand over her mouth.

“What are you—
mmph
.”

A hand clamps my mouth, too.

“Mmph!” I try to pry Schuyler’s hand off, but it’s stronger than cement.

The haphazard lattice of lines and dots from his hand passes to mine and morphs to mimic the mist, matching my skin to his and burying us both beneath a layer of artificial color. My face tingles with sleeping nerves as those
things
try to talk to me.

I’m Fading—like one of
them
.

Get off! Get off me!

I fight his grip, but he won’t let go, and the guards can’t see us.

Calm. No danger. Concealment,
he insists.

Mindy hears something, and she shines a light our way, but it’s only the flashlight, not the infrared.

“Nineteen clear,” she says into her radio. “Proceeding to twenty.”

She and her partner move on. My skin reappears as Schuyler collects his nanites and lets me go. I shove him as far as I can.

“
Never
do that again. I don’t want those things anywhere near me!”

I’m shaking and can’t stop. The last human he touched was Trey, and now Trey’s eyes are shining. I don’t want eyes like that. I can’t live with people looking at me like they do my dad.

“It’s okay,” Marina says, reaching for my arm, but I jerk away.

I don’t want to be touched by anyone right now, not even her. She had nanites on her, too, and they could still be there, ready to jump.

“They were helping,” she says.

“I don’t want their help.” I gulp air, trying not to hyperventilate. The creeping chill of fading still sticks to me like cold slime. “I don’t want them here. I don’t want anything from them at all.”

Anything else.
I already owe Rueful for saving my life.

“Blinking,” Schuyler says, getting our attention.

The lamps are dimming. When they settle, the one in the center goes out, leaving a gap.

Rueful darts forward, taking point. Marina goes next, and I follow her as the heat from the rest of the bulbs burns through my clothes. If it’s this intense for a human, I can’t imagine how it feels to a Fade, but Schuyler comes through behind me.

Making it through is a hollow victory. Even with my knowledge of the Arc, getting in was too easy. How do I know we’re the only ones who’ve made it across the line? The shadow crawlers are smart.

“Maybe you two should be less visible,” Marina tells them.

As much as I hate the idea of these two skulking around unseen, we’re already tempting fate and Dad’s temper—not to mention Honoria’s. The last thing we need is to get caught breaking protocol on a high alert.

The Fade’s features blend away, leaving us momentarily with a pair of robes, and I shiver again, scrubbing my arms, in case I missed something. Then the expanding nanite webs overtake the robes, too.

“If our luck holds, Dad won’t have checked his parental trace, but we still can’t go through the main doors. They’ll be locked down.”

“Then how do we get inside?” Marina asks.

“Trust me.” I can’t believe I’m about to show this to a pair of Fade. “This way.”

I head for the side of the building nearest the outside garden and enter the equipment shed.

“Dad showed me this once I chose the security team as my focus,” I say, feeling my way along the back wall.

My shadow casts long on the side in the light from the Arc, where it shines through the windows. I put my hand to a shelf bolted to the wall.

“Get on the other side and push on my count,” I say. Marina leans against the far side of the shelf.

Dad’s going to kill me for this.

“One, two, three—go.”

We push together, shoving the shelf into what should be a solid wall. The back of the shed gives way, rolling into the main building, and exposing another entrance to the tunnel system below.

“Careful,” I warn, stepping inside. “There’re stairs, but they’re steep. If you don’t look for them, you’ll go straight down. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

Marina trips over a ground-level track every time we use the hidden door in my apartment; unlit stairs could kill her.

“You two still there?” I ask in the direction I think the Fade are standing. “I’ll have to take the lead for a while.”

Marina snorts out loud, then coughs out: “Sorry. Rue says lead the way.”

Sure he did. Not killing that guy on sight should seriously count as payback for my life debt.

T
OBIN’S
tunnel leads us under the Arclight, into the maze of concrete walls and pipes that served as emergency entrances and exits in the first days. This looks like the path to the Well.

We don’t have enough light to give me much of an idea what’s ahead; just the glow from our alarms and a pale track of rope lights set into the ceiling. I hope we don’t run into another patrol down here. With the Arclight at Red-Wall, and Trey possibly turning Fade, we do not want to get caught sneaking Rue and Bolt in through a secret tunnel.

“Where does this go?” I ask.

“Same as the one in my apartment. This tunnel’s on the opposite side of the compound, but the design’s the same. Once we hit the junction, we can get to the hospital.”

We reach the junction as he mentions it, but the directions are reversed on this side. When he turns toward the hospital, it feels like we’re moving backward.

“What the—”

Tobin stops suddenly; I stumble into his back. Rue or Bolt, whoever’s directly behind me, can’t stop quick enough to prevent a pileup. Tobin reaches out to poke the empty air, as though he’s hit something solid.

“Is something in here with us?” I ask.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t follow directions well.” Tobin seizes a handful of air, yanking it toward us.

Rue pulls out of his grasp. Fully visible, not at all where he’s supposed to be, Rue.

“I told you to stay back,” Tobin says. “I’m not running through these tunnels looking for you when you get lost.”

Rue turns to me, catching my eye. Like the first time I questioned his ability to navigate the Arclight-below, a schematic of the tunnels appears in my mind, with one, distinct path illuminated by a bright pink line.

“He says he knows the way,” I tell Tobin.

“No, he didn’t. He didn’t
say
anything.” He bounces forward, sparring for a fight.

“I know the way,
Tibby
.” Rue turns the nickname into a challenge, meeting Tobin toe-to-toe.

Tobin draws back, ready to unload the full force of the night’s rage on Rue’s jaw, but I intercept his hand.

“Don’t.”

I have seriously got to stop putting myself between people’s faces and Tobin’s fist. I don’t even know
how
I got between them in time to catch his hand, but mine’s stinging.

“You should have let me hit him,” Tobin says, pulling free.

“Just get us to the hospital,” I say. “Trey is more important than a fight over line leader! Rue, stay with Bolt.”

Negative
.

“Not asking. I’d rather have you watching my back, okay?”

“Not okay, but yes.”

“Close enough.”

“Good, now
follow
me,” Tobin says. “We’re almost there.”

This tunnel isn’t a complete copy of the other one. There’s no stagnant steam here and no smell of mold. Thin gas and water pipes still run the length of the ceiling, but without the red wheels that control the flow. While Tobin has markers to use, I don’t. To me, it’s all a loop of endless sameness, and it’s a relief when he finally stops.

At least until we hit a wall instead of a door.

“This shouldn’t be located here,” Rue says, stepping forward. “It doesn’t belong.”

“It’s a security panel. Someone’s sealed the exit,” Tobin says, running his hands over a metal plate. “This wasn’t here before.”

We’re stuck. The door’s locked, and going back means we sit and wait for security to find us because there’s no other way in.

Suffocation.
Cherish’s voice surfaces, dredging up her greatest fears.
Crushing. Choking.

She goes berserk, throwing one horrible memory of being confined at me after another.

I brace my hand against the wall, fighting the light-headedness from the imagined lack of oxygen, and try to even my breathing. I end up gasping instead.

“Are you all right?” Tobin asks.

“Panic attack. Cherish doesn’t do well with enclosed spaces.”

“Right,” he says, facing the seal, like it’s a riddle he needs to solve. “So, what do we do?”

“Find a way to open it.” I’d shout it if I had the air. I’d also call him a few things I’d have to apologize for later.

I feel a hand against my back—Rue, reaching out to Cherish.

Calm,
he tells her.
Still
.

I don’t move. If Tobin sees Rue with his hands on me, it’ll lead to another fight.

No danger is present,
Rue says.

The familiar sensation of cool water hits my arms and legs.

I didn’t realize until now, but it’s part of my name. He’s calling Cherish by her real Fade name.

Rue’s presence soothes her, and in return, I get peace.

“Any ideas?” Tobin asks, glancing back at me. He has no clue what’s just happened.

“It doesn’t look new,” I say. It’s not shiny like clean metal, and there’s no evidence of installation. “Maybe it’s been here the whole time.”

“If it’s a pocket panel, Dad may have had it open when he showed me how to get here. I can’t tell.”

“Can you unlock it?”

Tobin raises his wrist, lining it up with the scanner on the wall. His security trainee status should open most anything, but the scanner doesn’t beep or blink.

“Nothing,” he says. “Either it’s dead, or this is a high-security seal.”

Rue and Bolt jostle past me in a space so tight, only one can pass at a time. Bolt, being taller, grips the sliding panel near the top of the seam where it meets the wall; Rue crouches down, doing the same at the bottom. Their hands sprout claws, and together they heave.

Those claws can tear through concrete and steel girders; they can crack reinforced glass that a bullet can’t shatter, but here, the door stands solid and unmoving. Bolt lays his palm flat against it until the slashes from his arm transfer to the door. They run the edge, draining through the seam.

“What are they doing?” Tobin asks as Rue sits back on his haunches, waiting.

Tobin can’t hear the tiny breaks and chips between the wall and door, like I can.

“Picking the lock,” I say.

It doesn’t take them long to finish. The nanites trickle back through the seam to return to Bolt’s skin. He and Rue resume their previous stance, and this time the door yields an inch.

“Help,” he says, facing Tobin. “Add your hands.”

Tobin takes the middle position on the door, wriggling his fingers into the notch created as it moves. All three of them strain, pulling until their bodies shake, and then suddenly, the panel slides away, leaving only the same sort of door that caps off every tunnel I’ve seen in the Arclight-below.

I tell myself that it’s mostly the Fade’s doing. Rue’s symbionts aren’t inside Tobin anymore, and he and Bolt had only needed a little extra help to break through, but that panel flew open. None of them were caught in the momentum. Most people would have fallen, or at least faltered when it released, but Tobin didn’t even wobble. How can he be that strong?

Tobin faces the newly exposed door and tries the switch again, but the automatic slide doesn’t work. He presses it into the wall by hand, opening it barely a crack, so we can see into the hospital without exposing our presence. The malfunction’s an accidental blessing.

The hospital’s full, and no one looks happy.