Rebellion (17 page)

“But,” Nadia says, folding her hands on the table in front of her, “as you said, two people died in one day because of that list.”

I nod. “We've been too obvious. We need a way to spread the word about Mother and the Underground movement without her being aware. Dr. Friar's files are filled with stuff we can use.”

“There's always good old-fashioned paper,” Asher suggests, grabbing a sheet from the table and holding it up. “It's slower, but we could pass a few out to the right people and eventually everyone would see it.”

“Still could get back to Mother,” Nadia says. “As far as I know, Elysium does not use paper anymore.”

I shrug. “That could work in our favor. Even if or when she sees what we're passing around, she'll have no way of knowing where it came from.”

“How will you pass out the papers?”

Asher purses his lips. “We need more people.”

“Who?” I demand. “Everyone's too afraid to do anything. Especially after today, we'll be lucky to add just one more person to our ranks.”

“We just need to give them someone to root for,” Asher says with a grin. “Like, say, a person Mother convinced them to believe died saving them?”

“Me?”

“She made you into a martyr for her own twisted purposes. Take advantage of it for your own.”

“Even if Mother succeeded in making me a martyr, that doesn't mean anyone is going to want to follow me.”

Asher looks at his Slate. “Mother said you were the Daughter. What does that mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing. It's just a stupid thing she made up.”

“No. Evie. Think about it. What does
Mother
want it to mean?”

I toss my shoulder. “That I was her successor. I was supposed to take over for her when and if she decided to give it to me.”

“No.” Evangeline pipes up and everyone swings around to stare at her. “Or, more precisely, that's not the only reason. You were supposed to be the approachable one. While she stayed on her pedestal. At least for a time. That's why she had you handle the Request days. Since the Citizens couldn't talk to Mother themselves, she wanted you there to ‘carry their voices to Mother.' To be the people's voice.”

“The people's voice?” I frown, but a little thought starts niggling at me. I turn toward Asher, who has a small smile on his face like I just solved the problem he knew the answer to all along. “So … you're saying I need to be their voice now?”

“Mother's already set it up. You just have to show the people you're here and you want to be
their
voice. Not Mother's.”

“How do I do that?”

“What about Gavin's idea for the mask?” Asher suggests.

“Even with a mask you could only be out there a short time before the Enforcers saw you.” Nadia's composure remains the same, but her voice sounds slightly more excited than usual.

“What if more than just Evie did it?” Evangeline suggests. “I'd be willing to help. I'm sure Tate and Kara would, too.”

No one argues so I lift a shoulder. “Well, we need a good old-fashioned printer and a few masks then.”

For the next hour or two, I scour Dr. Friar's data cubes for just the right passage. I eventually decide on one about the experiments that were in Three, and I now sit by an old paper printer and wait for it to do its job. It's ancient. Nothing like the 3-D printers in Elysium. And it still has the sticker on it that says, P
ROPERTY OF
E
LYSIUM
T
OWERS
. I'm impressed Nadia and her people were able to keep it running for so long.

When it's finally finished, I gather up all the papers. It's only a small amount considering all the people in Elysium this has to go to, but we'll only have a small window before the Enforcers see us. Hopefully, it'll be enough.

Now to figure out how the masks are coming along. Asher, Nadia, and Evangeline left sometime during my struggle to find just the right file to print. But I eventually find Asher in his dugout, sitting in his bed and staring at something in his hands.

He looks up when I step into his cutout. “There you are. I made you something.”

He tosses me the thing he was looking at. I barely catch it before it hits me in the chest. But when I do, I grin. One half is blank, the other a duplication of half my face, obviously taken from a picture. It's slightly crude. The edges aren't perfect and the picture doesn't sit quite flat, but it's close enough that I'm sure it will work.

“Why is half of this blank? Wouldn't it be better to use my full face?”

“I thought it could be symbolic. It'll represent that you are both nothing and something. You are one of them, yet all you.”

“How did you make this?”

“Evangeline did. From a 3-D printer. I told her what I wanted and she came up with this.”

I blink. “Evangeline? I thought she was only good at standing around and twisting her hands together.”

“Evie!”

“Sorry. That wasn't nice. But seriously? She made this?”

“Yep. She was an engineer. Did you know that? She keeps a 3-D printer in her apartment. She went back for it when she went to tell whoever Kara and Tate are about the plan. Brave of her to leave here, considering.”

I give him a look. I get the point. He wants me to play nice and get to know her. I'm just not ready to sit down and do it. I don't know that I'll ever be ready.

The mask will look nothing like me when I actually wear it—more like a distorted, possibly even grotesque version of myself—but I can imagine what it would look like with a few minor adjustments and the right material. Asher is right. I am Evie, but I'm also the Daughter of the People. I am no one and someone. I am the people's voice. And I will take Mother's city out from underneath her, remove
her
support system before she even knows there's a problem. Then, when I'm ready, I'll yank the rug out from underneath her and watch her fall.

*   *   *

We meticulously plan the first of what I've now dubbed maskings. It takes more than a few days and squashed ideas to come up with some kind of plan that isn't haphazardly thrown together. While there's still wild room for improvement, it should work.

With Father's help we add biological sensors to the masks to help get rid of the distortion. The next time I put it on, it immediately conforms to the contours of my face. It feels weird as it adjusts, but after a few seconds, it's no more uncomfortable than wearing latex gloves. When I pull it off, however, it feels like when I was sunburned on the Surface.

The others take their turns with their masks, and it's eerie watching half my face stretch and adjust to someone else's features. But I have to admit it's effective. It changes enough so it doesn't look strange and distorted, but not enough to destroy the illusion.

The whole point of the masks is for people to realize I'm back—hopefully Asher's right and they'll see that as a good thing—or that I might be back, anyway, but without giving away my hand too soon. And to start the countdown clock on Mother's reign of terror.

So … now it's time to drum up some attention and show Mother there's more than one person behind what we're doing, which, optimistically speaking, should slow down her assassination rate since she'll have no idea who to target. Hopefully it'll also show the Citizens that there
is
a group ready, able, and willing—no matter how small it is—to take Mother on.

Evangeline will start it. Followed by Tate, then me, dressed as an Enforcer, plus Kara, and lastly, Asher. The trick is to move slowly enough through the crowds that with the busyness of the Square no one will notice—except those we wish to show.

We all take our places and I keep my eyes out for as many of them as I can see. Evangeline starts at the dinner club and I watch as she winds through the crowds. When no one's looking, she slips the mask on for a few seconds. Long enough for someone to notice her and for the cameras to get a good view before she disappears into the crowd and removes the mask, hiding it and dropping a handful of the “flyers” I made.

Now should come Tate. I'm not exactly sure where he is, but it's close. I can feel the excitement as the crowd catches a view of the mask again. Suddenly someone bumps me and I look up to see him.

“Pardon me,” Tate says with enough of a quaver in his voice to make it appear he's afraid of me, then he bows quickly and drops his sheaf of papers before rushing away in the opposite direction. An Enforcer has popped into view, so I weave my way through the crowd in the opposite direction of her. She pays me no mind, but she's definitely on high alert as the buzz of the crowd gets more frantic and the dropped sheaves of paper are passed around and read. The crowd parts for me like water around a rock.

Finally, I step into the shadows by one of the buildings, slip on the mask, and rip off my cloak, hoping no one can see my “transformation.” Then I walk around the side of the building where I know a camera's blind spot is and step back into the crowd to wait for the reaction. Almost instantly someone notices it, and I see them blink a few times, as if they're not sure what they're seeing. When I disappear back into the crowd, I shove the mask under my shirt and keep my head ducked so my hair hides my face, but I hand my entire packet of papers to some random Citizen who's not paying attention to anyone but his Slate. He thanks me as we pass.

I continue along my path, passing Asher, who I nudge with my shoulder. A few seconds that feel like hours later, another jolt of electricity arises a few meters away from where he was. I turn in that direction, as everyone else does, but he's already gone and out of sight. But there's a woman in the middle of the crowd holding yet another sheaf of papers. I continue on my way toward my designated exit, but I make eye contact with an Enforcer before I do.

I feel it the minute she sees me. The confusion. The minute of disbelief. Then the programmed response kicking in as she pushes people away to get to me. My heart kicks in my chest, but I'm gone and in one of the maintenance tunnels before she can catch up to me.

 

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

One should not be afraid of what they can see, but what they cannot see. For it is what people hide that shows their true intentions.

—
L
ENORE
A
LLEN'S JOURNAL

Gavin

“I don't know where they are.” I look Mayor St. James straight in the eyes. “We got separated in the Outlands. As you well know. When I got to Rushlake, they were gone. From what I've been told, they grew fond of each other on their trip there and they…” What the hell is that damn word they use in Ann Marie's movies all the time? “… ‘clicked.' Apparently,
Evelyn,
” I force her name through my teeth like a hiss, as if even saying her name is a fresh brand on my skin, “thought I was dead and Asher did, too. She moved on. They both did. I was told they ran away together somewhere up north.”

“And the submarine?” The mayor frowns. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but I hope he's buying my story, because this is all I've got to sell.

I screw my face up into what I hope looks like confusion. “What about it?”

“It's gone, Mr. Hunter. I'm sure you're aware of it.”

I sneer. “Nope. Don't care either. Stopped caring the minute she left me for your son actually.” I try to add as much scorn as I can muster into my tone. I really hope this is working.

The mayor laughs. “You really expect me to believe that?”

I shrug and lean back in my chair. “I don't really care what you believe. I can only tell you what I know.”

He pauses a minute as if debating whether or not to believe me. I want to go on and plead my case, but I channel Evie. She has the patience of a saint. And she taught me that when dealing with people like the mayor, there really is such a thing as protesting too much.

“Mr. Hunter, that deal we made was that I gave you full citizenship and enough money to take care of you and your family for a very long time, should you give me information about the whereabouts of my son. You are not following through on that deal.”

I shrug again. “That's all I know. I can't tell you what I don't know. I heard they snuck out of the hospital she was in, stole a couple of horses, and took off heading north.”

“And you were
where
all this time?”

I hiss out an aggravated breath, hoping it's not too overdone. “I told you we got separated.” I look to the ground and try to look sheepish. “I came back here right away, but couldn't face my family, so I made a raft and went to the island.”

“The
island
?!” Asher's father purses his lips. “You've been at the island the whole time?” Disbelief colors every word, but I think it's more because he doesn't think anyone could actually stay on the island that long.
I
don't even think someone could stay there that long. It's a horrible place to stay for just a few hours, let alone days.

“If you go to the edge of the cove, you'll find the raft I made to get there and back.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because it's the truth,” a voice behind me says.

I whirl my entire upper torso around to see Asher's grandmother standing there, looking just as stern and formidable as she was the last time. I want to gape at her, but I keep my expression as flat as possible. At least that's answered one question and solved a
huge
problem for me.

“Asher and Evelyn left together. When they first arrived she was distraught and completely inconsolable over Gavin's assumed death. But over the weeks, Asher helped her through it, and like Gavin said, something clicked. You had to be blind not to see the two were in love. They ran away together. They left me a note. I don't know where they are now, but I doubt they're anywhere near here.”