Nomad (18 page)

"You'll catch up to me eventually, if you practice," she replied, and he laughed before leaving. She slumped back into her bed when she heard the soft click of the front door, feeling discouraged.

He'd left early. She wondered what she'd done wrong. Maybe he was bored with her already. Either she'd done too much by inviting him over so fast, or she'd done too little for him in bed, she thought. Perhaps it was none of the above, but she thought his interest might be sliding already. He had lots of girls around him all the time, and the strange girl with the scars and burns on her body might not be his top choice.
I'm not exactly Grade A meat,
she thought.

She spent the day studying her future information about Logan, trying to understand him better. She needed to devise a way to make him like her more.

She watched an event that was recent in her own history, in 2063, after Logan had been Secretary-General for fourteen years. His birthday celebration had caused a minor public outrage, and not only for its extravagance during a time of war and poverty.

Raven watched as Logan and rows of guests sat on a temporary reviewing stand overlooking the Potomac River, surrounded by bulletproof walls and squads of armored Providence guards. The dictator wore his customary black suit and gold lapel pin with the eye-in-pyramid logo that had become the emblem of his regime. Most of his invited guests dressed in a fashion that mimicked his, with dark colors and the golden pyramid logo.

The public had been invited to this portion of the festivities, and they thronged both sides of the river, eager to see the spectacle prepared for the supreme leader's birthday.

A brass band played a rousing Revolution-era march, accompanied by a dozen drums, as the first boat appeared. It was a triple-masted schooner, the kind of ship that might have served in the Continental Navy in the 1770's, flying a thirteen-star American flag and decorated with silk red, white, and blue bunting. It was a scale model, but still over ten feet long, every detail cut and placed by expert craftsmen.

It was followed by a row of three more masted caravel-style sailing ships, reminiscent of the three ships of Christopher Columbus, and then another row of three ships, and another. Altogether, there were a hundred boats, all of them elaborate and detailed models ten to twenty feet long, decorated with silk, satin, and garlands of flowers.

The crowd whistled and cheered as row after row of beautiful, wastefully expensive watercraft sailed by--cutters and frigates, brigs and galleons. All hundred sailboats were steered by small hidden engines, keeping the entire formation rigidly intact, the Continental schooner in the lead followed by thirty-three rows of ships, stretching back as far as the eye could see along the Potomac River. Logan smiled down on the armada, and the delighted crowd pushed forward on both banks for a better view.

One of the galleons, hung with black banners and a white silk flag featuring a black skull, opened fire on the ships around it, launching glowing red fireworks from its row of gun ports. These struck the other ships and exploded, igniting their sails, bunting, and masts. Gasps rose from the crowd, followed by scattered applause.

The other ships fired back, launching fireworks at the pirate ship and at each other. Up and down the river, sailing ships fired at each other.

Flames consumed the wooden pirate ship, and its entire payload of fireworks ignited at once. The ship exploded with a shrieking roar, sending brightly colored flames and a barrage of slender, hissing rockets in every direction.

Burning debris ignited more of the ships. Wreckage and fireworks hurtled into the crowd, where people screamed as the firecrackers exploded around them.

The fighting among the ships grew more intense, with more fireworks flying among them. A few more burning ships exploded, which seemed to set off a chain reaction, one ship after another catching fire and erupting, sending more hull fragments and clouds of lit fireworks through the air.

The crowd screamed and retreated from the storm of explosives and burning wood that rained down faster and heavier as the rest of the fleet exploded in rapid succession, rows at a time. Scores of people were burned or trampled that day.

The rows of armored Providence guards around the Secretary-General did not react at all to the explosions or the panicked crowd. Inside the bulletproof walls, Logan and his guests were laughing and pointing. The public had not been told to expect any fireworks at all. Their terror and panic were simply the next phase of the old dictator's afternoon entertainment, and he seemed to be relishing all of it.

From horizon to horizon, the Potomac River was filled with flames.

Chapter Twenty

Raven didn't hear from Logan again on Sunday, or on Monday. Though she was busy making preparations, she was still annoyed and a little frustrated that he hadn't called.

She called him Tuesday afternoon as he left his film class at the Loria Center. She had concealed herself across the street so she could watch him.

"Hey, Riley, I'm sorry, I've been meaning to call, but--" he began when he answered.

"Quiet," she told him. "I have a present for you."

"What kind of present?"

"Meet me at the pond by the forestry school. Right now." She hung up.

Across the street, Logan looked perplexed, but he shrugged and turned north. Raven tracked him all the way to Kroon Hall, the same building where he'd attended the rainforest lecture with Macey. She'd noticed a sizable pond at one end of the school's lawn and thought it might serve her well.

She watched over the back retaining wall and watched Logan cross the grass toward the pond. It had a swampy look, full of cattails and lotus flowers to filter runoff water, which was then reused in the building's toilets and landscaping. It was designed to demonstrate ecological sustainability.

"Logan," she said as she stepped around the wall. The pond had high walls at two sides, but the rest was left open to the park-like lawn. When the students emerged from the next class, plenty of them would have a clear view of the water.

"I'm glad you called. Is that my present?" He pointed at the second-hand duffel bag strapped over her shoulder.

"You like boats, don't you?" Raven set the bag onto the lip of the pond and unzipped it. She lifted out a speedboat, fifteen inches long, with yellow and black coloring that made her think of a hornet. She eased it into the water.

"Oh, that's cool, but I don't think you can do that here. We should go to the park."

"We definitely can't do this here." She placed a red and gray battleship, more than three feet long, into the water beside it.

"Wait--" Logan said.

"Sh. We need to get it ready before the next class lets out."

"Get what ready?"

Raven answered with what she hoped to be a mysterious and alluring smile, then unloaded the next boat, a World War I battleship. She hadn't had much success finding remote-controlled sailing ships. The toys at the store were mostly pleasure boats or antiquated warships, but she had lucked into a plastic frigate-style pirate ship with red and black Jolly Roger flags. She brought this out last. Eight model boats now floated in the recycling pond.

"Let me drive the pirate ship!" Logan said, excited as a boy on Christmas.

"I'm driving all the ships. Watch." Raven took out the remote control, which she'd built herself from Radio Shack parts. She'd rewired all eight boats to obey the single controller.

She pressed a lever, and the boats launched forward through the water, zipping past the filter plants. She had them turn like a school of fish to pass through a gap between two clumps of vegetation, but her battleship tangled in a cattail.

"I got it." Logan hopped up onto the ledge of the pond and leaned out to free the ship with his fingertips. "Keep going! No, wait, let me drive." He hopped down beside her and held out his hand.

She passed him the remote, and he drove the little gang of mismatched boats back and forth between clumps of plants. He was actually much better at steering them than she was. Raven supposed he'd spent more of his life playing video games than she had.

"We'd get a better view from up there." Logan pointed to a staircase that rose behind one of the pond walls.

"We'd get an even better view from the roof."

"Are you serious?"

"Hurry. We don't want anyone to see us."

They dashed up the stairs inside, but Raven decided against the roof, because it was curved rather than flat and would leave them too visible. Instead, she picked the lock on an instructor's third-floor office.

"This is crazy," Logan whispered as he closed the door behind them.

"You'll be glad nobody can see us." Raven took the remote from him and drove the boats in another lap around the pond, making sure the signal was strong enough.

"My turn," Logan said.

"You just had a turn," she replied, but she handed it back to him. He sent the boats weaving among the plants again, never getting one tangled.

"Show-off," Raven whispered.

"I can't help it. I'm good with boats. What do these do?" He moved his thumb to three switches at the bottom of the controller.

"Don't touch those! Wait, here they come. Put on some speed." Students poured out through the colonnade facing the pond as classes ended. Several of them pointed at the loud little boats roaring around, sloshing water out over the pond's concrete lip to splash on the sidewalk below it. The crowd drifted toward it for a closer look. A graying female professor marched toward the pond with an angry look on her face.

"Push the first of the three levers," Raven whispered.

"Push all three levers?"

"No!" Raven reached out to stop him, but she wasn't fast enough. Logan thumbed down all three at once.

She'd planned a careful sequence. The first lever would ignite only the smallest, shortest-range fireworks, to warn people and scare them back while the ships attacked each other. The second would ignite the heavier stuff, the screamers and Roman candles. The third would cause each ship to self-destruct in an explosive gout of crackling fire.

Instead, what happened was like a volcanic eruption, fire whooshing up and igniting the stands of aquatic plants, followed by a wild burst of fireworks that struck the students closest to the pond and sent everyone running and screaming. Raven hoped nobody was seriously hurt. She hadn't used anything too dangerous, as long as they didn't hit anybody in the face.

Students and teachers shouted and pointed at the burning pond, and she noticed Macey among them.

"Oh, my God," Logan said.

"We were supposed to do one lever at a time," Raven said. "I didn't mean for--"

"That was
awesome
! I can't believe we did that." Logan looked at her for a moment, then pulled her close. "Are you the coolest girl ever?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." He kissed her, long and hard, and she felt him stiffening against her stomach. She gasped when he threw her back on the unknown professor's desk and kissed her again. He kissed her breasts through her white sweater, then hiked it up to kiss her stomach. She hadn't expected this, and she couldn't help feeling a little excited by his eagerness. She told herself she was only excited because she'd made progress on her mission.

She felt him tug at her belt, then pull her jeans down her hips.

"No, wait," she whispered.

"It's not what you think." Logan kissed her lower belly, then the front of her panties.

"Mm...yeah, you can do that," she whispered. She lay her head back on a desk calendar.

Her panties slid down her thighs. Logan's tongue pressed against her, and she was surprised and disgusted at how good it felt. She felt an angry, horrified lust for him. Outside, the crowd grew larger and louder while the fire burned down to the water.

She covered her mouth with her hand, biting her flesh, and then she shoved him off her. Campus police swarmed the lawn below.

"We have to go," she gasped, pulling up her pants. "The cops."

"I want to blow up something else," Logan said.

"I think you just did."

"I'm serious. That was amazing. What else can we blow up?"

"We can talk about it when you come over tonight." She kissed him and brushed her fingers down the front of his jeans. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Tonight."

Police and fire sirens wailed in the street.

Chapter Twenty-One

Raven hung a wet, newly developed photograph on a line to dry. She'd replaced the bathroom's overhead bulb with a dim red light to create a temporary darkroom. She enjoyed the process of developing film into pictures. Actual film was old-fashioned even in 2013, used only by students and some professionals. In her own time, it was essentially a dead art.

"That's you, when I thought you were stalking me," she said, pointing to a picture of Logan spinning his Frisbee.

"Who says I wasn't stalking you?"

Logan stood behind her, and the tiny room left him no choice but to press his body against her back. His hands were at her waist, and his fingertips slipped under the hem of her shirt to tease and tickle her stomach.

"Stop doing that!" she squealed. "I mean it. Look, here's when you climbed up the cliff to reach me. Such a dashing, fairy-tale move. Like Rapunzel, but not so hard on my hair." She hung up the picture of Logan scaling the rock without a rope.

"You were impressed." Both his hands slid under her shirt now, caressing her belly.

"I said stop!" She made no move to stop him, but clipped another picture up to dry. It was Macey, sobbing with her face buried against the cliff.

"I'm trying to stop, seriously." Logan pressed himself harder against the back of her tight black slacks. "Which one's your favorite?"

Raven looked among the drying pictures strung above her. She reached toward an image of Logan looking out at rows and rows of the dead, pretending to be deep in thought. The archway was visible above his head, with its inscription: THE DEAD SHALL BE RAISED.