The Sowing (24 page)

My knees are shaking, and I’m numb with disbelief. Is it possible what I just heard? My mother commanding, without trial, the deaths of two Sector citizens? Is this why she came back?  What did she see on that camera that earned Remy and Soren a death sentence?

What have I done by bringing them here?

“When your task is complete, you’ll have to disappear. Hide in the Wilds and I’ll get a signal to you as soon as it’s safe for me to bring you back under my wing.” My mother sounds almost nurturing now.
Who is she talking to? 

I can’t wait to find out. I pull the door shut as quietly as I can and run back toward the lab. I have to get out of here. She’s undoubtedly heading towards the office, and who knows what she’ll do if she catches me here. I don’t have much time. I glance around, pausing to catch my breath, to reconsider my escape.
Think, Vale!
I berate myself.

“Pull up the building’s schematics and get me out of here,” I whisper to Demeter, so quietly I wonder if she can hear me—I’m terrified of being caught by the room’s security recordings.

Not three seconds later: “There’s a dumbwaiter in the southwest corner of the meeting room.”

Of course.
I forgot about the dumbwaiter—my mother hates it when people interrupt her when she’s working, so she has the Dieticians zoom all her food directly up to her. No wonder. I wouldn’t want anyone walking in on me while I was plotting murder, either.

The dumbwaiter is in the corner of the formal meeting room next to a credenza full of fine wines and expensive liquors. I examine the buttons hesitantly, but realize that triggering the dumbwaiter will no doubt alert someone in security that I’m here. I’m going to have to crawl down the hatch. The mysterious voice said he’d kill them within the hour.
That’s not enough time.

I try to slide open the dumbwaiter door. It won’t budge. It must only open when it’s called, and I can’t do that without logging my presence into the security system. Panic starts to set in. I look around to see if there’s something I can pry it open with. Nothing. The room is a vision of my mother’s penchant for sparse, utilitarian design. And then it hits me.
I have a grappling hook.
I pull it out of my pack and pry one hook into the corner, hoping it doesn’t leave scratch marks on the burnished metal. I wedge the door apart and peer down into the tiny darkness. I’m not claustrophobic, and I’m not afraid of heights, but crawling down forty stories of narrow, pitch-black space isn’t exactly appealing. I pull my magnetic gloves on and slap on the charge so the magnetizer activates. I hear a beeping outside, and my eyes flash to the door.
Shit!
No choice but to jump in now. I climb in and try to slide the panel door closed behind me. It slides almost closed, but where the hook bent the metal in the corner, it sticks. Damn. Someone’s going to notice eventually.

With just a sliver of light from a crack in the panel door, I start to crawl down into the darkness. I cling tightly to the cable, inching slowly as my hands stick to the metal, and try not to think about the black abyss and hard stop that awaits me if I should slip. In a way, the smallness of this particular elevator passage is an advantage, as it makes it easier to support myself as I descend. Several times, there’s a break in the width of the chamber, probably doors to other conference and meeting rooms. But I want to get as far down as possible before I climb out.

Suddenly my feet hit a barrier. I’ve run into the dumbwaiter itself. I push on it, but it doesn’t budge. I’ll have to crawl back up to the nearest door stop and pry my way out the same way I pried my way in. It’s probably another eight meters back up to the last space I felt. That’s far from impossible, but not terribly enticing, either. I brace my back with my hands and start pulling myself hand-over-hand back up the metal cable.

Soon my muscles are aching as I have to overcome the magnetic field to forcefully pull each hand off the cable. Within minutes I feel the break in the space and I know I’ve hit a door. I first try to slide it open from the inside, then push it with my feet, and then, finally, I fumble to get out my grappling hook and pry it open. I crawl out as quickly as I can. Never in my life have I been so happy to see a desk chair. I don’t know whose office this is, but it’s empty, and that’s the only thing I care about.

Out of the dark space, I take a breather to assess my situation. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window. I’m covered in dust and dirt and my hair is all mussed up. And I lost my hat, so my disguise is gone.

Just then, the door starts to beep. Someone is keying in. I don’t even have time to think about hiding or taking cover before the door slides open. It’s a janitor wearing headphones, and my response is instinctive and thoughtless. I take a running leap at him and just as he looks up with a stunned expression, slam my hand down on the back of his neck like a knife. He collapses, toppling over face-first. He’s out cold but probably won’t be for long. I drag him out of the doorway and leave him face-down on the floor. I don’t have time to worry about him. He’ll come to with a headache, but with any luck, he won’t have any memory of me.

I head out of the office and dart for the stairwell. Even taking them two at a time, it still feels like the stairs are endless. I reach the ground floor, wind my way to the back service entrance, and slam my body against the door, bursting through to the alley.

Outside, I don’t even bother to stop for breath. The PODS isn’t running now and it’s already taken me twenty minutes to get outside. The man in the hallway said he would take care of Remy and Soren within the hour. I tear down the alley, this time making no attempt at secrecy, counting only on the cover of night and Aulion’s mandatory ten-kilometer-per-day morning run to get me where I need to be.
And to get me there in time.

Just as I round the corner, a noise as loud as a thunderclap and as high-pitched as screeching metal on metal assaults my ears. I turn to look behind me and see flashing red and white lights. The security alarm.

“Find out what’s going on,” I tell Demeter, fearing the worst. Fearing I’ve been discovered.

“The janitor keyed in the alarm code. I’m waiting for him to upload further details to see if he identified you.”

Shit!
I head toward the PODS tracks, the straightest line back to the Complex, and pound out the run as hard and as fast as I can, checking the time constantly.

“It looks like he didn’t ID you, but OAC Security is broadcasting his description. They’re looking for you, Vale.” By the time I reach the Military Complex, Demeter announces that it’s 02h47. There may still be time.

I enter the overnight passcode and palm in through the same door I’d gone out hours earlier. I push through the stairwell doors and bound down the steps two, three at a time, almost ricocheting off the landing walls. Remy and Soren are on B Level 3, Holding Cell 28. I’m almost there, when I round a corner and run face-first into—

“Sir?”

“Chan-Yu?”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, sir. There’s a…” He stops and stares at my mussed hair, dirty skin, and all-black getup. “Are you all right?

“I’m fine, but you’ll have to excuse me,” I say, far more confidently than I feel. “I have an urgent matter to attend to.” I push past him and start down the hall, when a strange thought stops me in my tracks.
It was him.
It was his voice I heard talking to my mother. That’s why he’s here—he’s on his way to kill Remy and Soren.
Or did he already do it?
Desperation floods through me like a fever. My heart thuds and then stops. I spin around and without a thought, I grab Chan-Yu’s collar and slam him against the wall. I stare down at him, and he meets my gaze, unafraid. There’s no fear or panic in his eyes—no emotion, really. He almost looks unsurprised. Though I can feel every muscle in his body tense, he makes no move to resist.

“Did you do it?” I demand. His breath is hot against my face.

“Do what?” His eyes are unreadable, his face innocent, his voice perfectly calm.

“Did you kill them?” The corner of his mouth turns up in the faintest hint of a smile.

“No, sir. I have not.” I take a deep breath and let him go, releasing my death grip on his collar. My knuckles are white, my hands shaking. I take a step back, but he remains precisely where he was, his back pressed against the wall, watching me. He’s always watching me. Waiting. What is he waiting for?

“Chan-Yu, you are under my command, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have taken an oath.”

“I have, sir.” The man is stoic and impassive. His voice belies nothing.

“Then if I command you to answer me truthfully, will you do so?” His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but he responds as usual.

“I will.”

“To whom are you loyal?”

“To you, sir.”

“Above all others?”

“No, sir.”

“Who holds your true allegiance?” I shout at him, once again afraid. The grim possibility settles on me that I may have to kill him to save Remy and Soren.
But can I kill him?
He’s as good a soldier as I am, probably better. “Who are you?”

He says nothing.

“Are you one of my mother’s men? Do you carry out her orders?”

“I am not one of Corine Orleán’s tools.” He doesn’t flinch, but this time there is a hint of contempt in his voice.
Who is he, if not my mother’s man?

“I know it was you,” I say. “At OAC headquarters. With her.”  In response, Chan-Yu looks me up and down. Something on his face changes then, as if a window has opened and he has made a decision. He opens his mouth, and words spill out that I never expected to hear.

“My allegiance lies outside the Sector, Vale—” that’s the first time he’s ever addressed me by name “—but that is not a matter to discuss now. My loyalty to Madam Orleán ended tonight, and I am ready to move to the next stage in my task.” I stare at him, confused. I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Time is short. You have one last command to give me, I believe,” he says, as though challenging me. This is the moment, I realize. This is what he’s been waiting for. This is why he’s been watching me, judging me. He wants to know where I stand.

“Get them out of here,” I say. The corners of his mouth turn up in a grim smile, the first real expression I’ve ever seen on his face. He nods.

“Yes, sir. It is best that you not be here. That you return to your flat. Aulion will be expecting you bright and early. And he will not be happy.”

I start to turn away, but he pulls my elbow, turning me back to him. He puts his hand to his neck and tugs at a something—a little chain I’ve never noticed before. It comes free in his hand, and he holds it out to me. I open my palm and he drops it in.

“If you should ever find yourself lost in the woods,” he says, “this may help.”

It’s a pendant, a charm in the shape of an acorn, enameled in green and gold. The symbol of the Outsiders. Is he working for them? Is that what he meant by “my allegiance lies outside the Sector”? Who is he really? There are a thousand questions in my mind, but when I look up to ask them, Chan-Yu is nowhere to be seen. 

19 - REMY

Fall 91, Sector Annum 105, 02h45
Gregorian Calendar: December 20
 

I awake from a sleep that at last brought some semblance of peace. I look around groggily to try to find whatever disturbance stirred me from my rest. My left leg has fallen entirely asleep—ah, that must be it. I shift my thigh slightly against the cold, hard floor and thump my leg a few times, rousing it from numbness. The pins and needles set in and I grit my teeth, waiting for them to fade. When they finally do, I lean my head against Soren’s shoulder.

“Remy,” he croaks. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I whisper back. He is silent for a moment. I wonder what time it is. I lost all sense of time when I passed out on the mission and then woke up on a gurney in a doctor’s office, strapped to the bed. It could have been two hours or two days since I was sitting across that desk from Philip, and I wouldn’t know the difference.

“Why didn’t they ask us about the you-know-what? I can’t stop thinking about that.”

“Maybe Eli was wrong. Maybe Corine doesn’t have it. Maybe nobody in the Sector knows about it.”

“But then why would she have ordered Hawthorne killed?” I ponder this.

“He didn’t know Eli had downloaded a copy, right? So maybe he kept it hidden—just like my granddad did. Maybe she couldn’t find it,” I respond.

Soren forgets to spit back his usual derisive expression. I guess being held hostage, starved, and tortured does something to bring people together.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he says finally. “Corine’s too smart to let something she desperately wants slip her notice just because Hawthorne hid it well. I don’t buy it. I think it’s Philip and Aulion who are in the dark. They don’t know about it.”

“But why would Corine hide something that important from Philip?”

Soren is silent.

“He’s not just the chancellor—he’s her husband, too.”

After a few minutes, he takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

We sit in silence for a while, the mystery and confusion mingling with the sleep deprivation and hunger to create a chaos in my mind. The bleak, white walls of the room are starting to press in on my brain, and I notice that the room is starting to smell rank and foul. I wish they’d let us wash. I notice the goosebumps on my skin. It’s cold, and I wonder how long they’ll keep us in here. How long before they’ll feed us.

“Remy,” Soren croaks again. “Do you think they’re coming for us?”

“Corine and Philip?” I close my eyes. Yes. But that’s not the question—the question is what they’re going to do with us.

“No, Eli. Rhinehouse. Your parents.”

“Well they’re sure as shit not going to let us rot in here.” If there’s one thing I know about Eli, he’ll go through hell to get us back. He’ll fly in here with Firestone and blow the roof off the building if that’s what it comes to, the Director and all her plans be damned.