The Rift Uprising (32 page)

Now they have an idea of what my life has been like since I discovered their demented secrets.

I'm almost certain the Roones are not going to kill us, not now that Edo and I have our deal. Levi and Beta Team have to fully take over the Battle Ground Rift without anyone in Livermore knowing what they've done. Just the idea of it makes me sweat, but I'm sure they can do it, especially with Edo's help. She won't like it, but she won't have a choice, not if she wants my data once I return.

I turn to Levi. I stand straighter, ignoring the pain in my hands and my throat from the fight with Audrey. He may not think I'm a child, but he doesn't think I'm much of a leader, either. I have to change that perception right now. I cannot show weakness or indecision. Yesterday, I would have been happy with him seeing us as equals; now I have to prove that I am more, that I am capable of leading the charge. “Stay here,” I say with authority. “Secure the room. Shoot anyone who tries to come in,
except
for Edo. Give me a few minutes down at The Rift and then call her. Tell her to come here alone with
her medical kit. You can trust her, sort of. She's going to be pissed that I did this, but she'll work with you. She won't sell you out.”

“So you're just going to go down there and tell everybody? That's your plan?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Just to be clear, that wasn't a request.” I feel around my flak pockets, checking my ammo. I pull my old chip from its secure front pocket. The circuits are fried. It's useless now. I'll need to take one from Beta Team before I leave. I know Levi would be furious if he knew my end game today and I have to admit, I'm a little scared to tell him. Then I realize I don't actually have to. I have a weakness when it comes to Levi. He intimidates me and I have to get over it. Generals aren't vulnerable. They are fair, but not kind. They certainly don't offer up vital information in a room that's not totally secure. I walk out the door without giving him another word.

I leave the bunker from one of the original exits, more hatch than door, a big metal contraption that groans when I push it open. It's better that I get to the intake rendezvous on foot rather than draw more attention at the transport bay. I race toward Ezra. The late-November trees with their bone-like branches blur around me as I run. It doesn't take me more than a few minutes to get to him. He is sitting off the gravel road, reading the instructions for the QOINS with the packs at his feet. He has managed to get the soldier to drop him off and not wait for me. I'm not sure how he managed this, but I am grateful he did.

He hadn't heard me, but when he sees me, he quickly shoves the papers back into his pack and stands. I practically jump into his arms. We stand there, holding each other without speaking. His heart is beating faster than normal.

“You're hurt,” Ezra says with pain in his voice. He pulls away and looks me up and down. I don't know what my fight with Audrey has done to the way I look. It's not like I checked myself out in the mirror before I ran here. I guess I have a few bruises. I don't want to tell him it could have been much worse.

“I'm fine. Really. Applebaum isn't dead, but he's not in command anymore. Levi is.”

Ezra looks at me sideways. “The same Levi who broke into the house this morning?”

“That wasn't his fault, and there is no one besides my team that I'd trust more right now. I did what I needed to, now all I have to do is tell the Citadels, which might not be as easy as I thought.” I look up to the sky and let my shoulders sag. “This is so screwed up. I wish I had more than my instincts to go on right now. I wish I had more time,” I admit.

Ezra draws me back into his arms. “Your instincts have done more for your people . . . Huh, that's not right . . . your
kind
? Is that racist? You know what I mean. Your instincts have taken the Citadels out of the dark, and the light isn't always pretty. Things almost universally look better in the shadows. So yeah, it might be harsh and ugly out here in the sun, but you can't doubt yourself now. You've got to stop this before it gets worse.”

“You're right, thank you,” I say as I pull away from him, though I would love nothing more than to stay there. Levi is alone in the Command room. I have to get on with this. Ezra and I begin to walk toward The Rift. We walk until we are about a hundred feet from the line of Citadel reserves. I know they've heard us already; I've been practically stomping in my boots. Trying to sneak through would give them the wrong idea. The reserve line doesn't bother to hide. They are usually only needed when the Karekins come through. They are the
last line of defense between Camp Bonneville and The Rift. The teams generally double up so that there are eight Citadels grouped together under one call sign instead of four. I know that there are dozens and dozens of them between us and where we need to go. Then of course there are the other Citadels who are hiding in the Foxholes and Nests. At any given time there are well over one hundred Citadels on active duty. At least three of them are Beta, which is a relief.

I see the first team soon enough, and thankfully I'm on pretty friendly terms with the team leader. “Hey, Meghan,” I say casually.

Unsurprisingly, she looks hesitant. “Hi, Ryn. Didn't think you were coming in today. They pulled someone from Rho Team back here in reserves to sit in the Foxhole with Beta.” She is eying Ezra with obvious scrutiny. “Who's this?”

“My . . . boyfriend,” I say, because I guess he is and today is not a day for lies.

“You have a boyfriend? And you brought him to The Rift?” Her puzzlement is gone. Now she looks angry.

“Yes I did,” I answer defiantly. “Hey, everyone!” I shout, because I know they can all hear me, even from this far away. “I need to speak to you all. Leave your positions and meet me in the clearing.” I can hear most of the reserve team leaders calling back to Command. You just don't walk to The Rift. You especially don't bring a civilian, and you never, ever leave your post unless given orders to do so. I know that Levi is on the other end of the com, though. He's telling them to do as I say. All the Citadels, even the older ones, respect Levi because he is one of the best. They respect me, too, but I'm not as lethal as he is. Levi is such an excellent fighter that he makes some of the other Citadels look like normal people when he spars with them, and that's saying something.

Ezra and I walk into the trees. I can hear the reserves following behind us. We aren't being stopped or questioned yet, which means that things are going our way so far. I feel The Rift, as I so often do, before I see it. Today the pull is especially strong, almost as if it knows, as if it's waiting for me to jump inside of it. We get to the clearing and most of the Citadels are out there already. We stop in the middle, just in time to see the remaining soldiers jump down from their Nests like high divers and land quietly in the soft muddy ground around us.

Immediately I look for my team. They've already spotted me, though, and are walking toward Ezra and me rigidly. The three of them have no idea what's going on, but they must know something is very wrong for me to be here with him. I want badly to believe that all the Citadels will listen calmly to what I have to say and then join the cause without much questioning. But after Audrey, and as I look around at everyone's faces, I know that this will not be the case. They are looking at me as if I'm contaminated. I feel like they have already judged me and made their decision without even bothering to hear what I have to say. I understand in this moment that leadership is more than positioning troops and choosing artillery. It's about persuasion and charisma. I need to talk these soldiers over to my side. I might have doubted that I could do such a thing if I wasn't so passionate about the cause. The Citadels must be told the truth. I take off my knapsack and give it to Ezra. I make him strap it on front facing. I figure that if things go sideways, the packs might serve as an extra layer of protection.

I start at the very beginning, that first day when I arrived at Camp Bonneville and received what they called a “tetanus” shot, but which in reality activated our dormant, altered DNA. I talked about Ezra, how I met him, breaking into the Village, and the wrongness of what goes on there. I relayed
Edo's truth, even though I was sure it wasn't the whole truth. I showed them my fried chip, then I asked for Henry's, which he handed over easily enough, but he looked obviously alarmed when I shoved it into the pack strapped to Ezra's chest. I told them about the abuse and the drug cocktail. I held Ezra's hand, brought it up to my mouth, kissed his fingertips, and I heard the Citadels murmur and gasp. I told them all of it, all the truths I knew and the theories I could guess at. I explained that ARC planned to send us through the Rifts to pillage and murder, and how the threat of that, combined with the kill switch in the implant, had forced my hand with Applebaum. Finally, I told them about my deal with Edo and how I was going to go through The Rift first. It was time to take back control of our lives and it had to start with this first jump into the unknown. I look at my team. They don't like this last bit of information. Henry is giving me a death stare. I cannot quietly confer with them. The Citadels need to see that we are all equals and that this is not a popularity contest.

Now that I am finished there is only silence and a palpable tension as thick as a brick wall. Was someone going to say something? Crows caw above us, and the green glow of The Rift casts a menacing light instead of the shimmering ethereal emerald I am used to. Finally a boy steps forward. I know this kid, but I've never liked him. He's a bully. I've seen him be cruel to helpless Immigrants. I don't think I'm going to like what he's about to say.

“We may not like the methods. I'm sure we can all agree with that,” he begins without emotion, “but so what? Our job is to keep the world safe, at whatever cost. So far, it's worked. You can't argue with results. You've really fucked things up, Ryn. You've put this entire system at risk because, what? You don't like following orders? You're horny?”

I go to say something, but Violet jumps forward. Her face is red. I've rarely seen her angry. Sad, yes, frustrated, of course, but this mad? Never. “Shut up, Duncan!” Violet sputters and shakes her head. “You're like that blond telegram boy from
The Sound of Music
.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

I'm kind of wondering the same thing. Count on Violet to reference a musical from the last century during a confrontation.

“Don't front like you haven't seen
The Sound of Music
.
Everyone
has seen
The Sound of Music,
and you're the Nazi boy,” Vi hisses. This is Violet's version of mean. In her mind I know she believes she's opened a can of verbal whoop-ass on Duncan. In reality, her equating our situation to a musical is not doing much for our cause. Even I have to struggle not to just shrug her off.

“Did you just call me a Nazi?” Duncan steps forward and I see in that instant how the group divides itself. It's as if someone has said, “Okay—all those who are on Ryn's side stand over here, and everyone who feels like Duncan—the asshole Aryan bike boy—stand over there.”

“If the shoe fits,” Boone says.

“What?”

“That's what Nazis do,” Boone says with more intensity than I've ever heard in his voice. “They force people from their homes. They steal. They take whatever they want because they believe they're entitled to it. They kill. They torture. They make lampshades out of people's skin and stick little kids in gas chambers because they're following orders. The Nazis didn't believe they were monsters. They believed they were saving the world. It's a fair comparison. I mean, look at us—we are kind of the ultimate Hitler Youth Movement.”

I see Duncan's facial features tense, but like any good Citadel, he is keeping his emotions in check. “I'm not a Nazi. I'm a hero and you're”—he spits, looking at me—“a traitor. I'm not some mindless drone. I wouldn't stick a kid in a fucking oven. We're the good guys.”

For someone who claims he isn't mindless, I have to wonder at this point if Duncan's IQ was ramped up to our level. Besides the fact that I was talking about Nazis and not Hansel and Gretel, he totally does not get it. I step in front of Boone so that now I'm the one just inches away from Duncan. “But you would,” I argue. “You would do anything if you knew that ARC could kill you and your friends by pressing a button. You'd strangle a baby. You'd rape a woman to death if the Blood Lust got you. We are dangerous. We are
too
dangerous. And you're going to stand there like a good little soldier and call yourself a hero because you're too dumb or too afraid to see the truth?”

Duncan nods his head. I see some of his supporters shuffle away from him and on to our side, but not everyone, and my heart sinks. I'm so frustrated I want to shake them all. Then, faster than I can react to, Duncan backhands me. This is a gesture of defiance, a show of strength meant to embarrass, not hurt me. Still, I feel the blood pool in my mouth from where my incisor has cut the inside of my lip. I don't even bother to say anything. With the same speed, I haul back and punch him in the face. I punch him so hard that his body flies up and out at least ten feet.

Discussion time is over after that.

The group explodes. There are far more Citadels on our side, but Duncan's faction has a lot of muscle. It's Vi who launches first, at a beefy girl named Jessica who has at least half a foot and fifty pounds on her. I know this doesn't matter. Violet is
so quick and lithe that Jessica doesn't have a chance. Violet leaps, kicking the bigger girl straight in the throat.

Meanwhile, Duncan has gotten his bearings. He flips himself up with his hands and lunges toward me. I know that Henry's and Boone's first reactions are going to be to protect me, but I also know that I have to fight Duncan and win if I want control of his supporters. I step forward, toward his charge, letting Henry and Boone know that I have this. Then, before Duncan can get to me, I spin away and elbow him in the back. I'm sure he doesn't feel this through his uniform, but this is just as much a pissing contest as anything else. I am not going to be so easy to catch. Before he can turn fully around to face me, I catch a glimpse of Ezra. He's no coward, but he knows wisely to stay out of the fray. “Run toward The Rift!” I manage to yell at him, but the break in concentration costs me. Duncan lands a strong uppercut to my jaw. I bite my tongue—for the second time today—and spit blood out on the ground.

I hope I get out of here with it all in one piece.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ezra race toward the shimmering tower at the edge of the field. I have to bait Duncan toward The Rift now. He tries to land another hit, but I parry. I punch and he blocks me. We dance this way for a good thirty seconds, our fists moving so fast that I feel like I'm fighting on instinct alone. He's trying to get me away from The Rift, but he can't outmatch my speed. If he doesn't want to be hit, then he has to move in the direction my feet are taking us.

I finally manage to catch one of his wrists in a failed attempt at a jab. I squeeze down on the bone as hard as I can and twist it back until I hear a snap. It's broken. Duncan is at a major disadvantage now and he knows it. He screams, not in pain but anger. He kicks me in the stomach and I sail into
the air. It knocks the wind out of me more than it hurts. He's also managed to kick me in the wrong direction. I fix this by doing a massive handspring up and over him so that now I'm facing The Rift.

A light rain begins to fall; thousands of delicate slivers of water jump from the clouds. I know that in a few moments those slivers will become an icy sheet. Autumn rain in the Pacific Northwest doesn't fall in big fat drops. Soon the ground will be a muddy slick and my visibility will worsen. I have a second or two before Duncan throws the next punch to take in what's happening. It is eerily silent on the field. Our punches and kicks are muffled by our suits. For the most part we don't scream or grunt as other fighters might. We have been trained to fight like ghosts. Invisible hands reach out and grab throats, our bodies twist and leap with the ease of something carried on the wind. And yet, even though the only thing I hear is the thud of a Citadel thrown against a tree or the splinter of a bone under one of our boots, it is absolute mayhem.