Variant (20 page)

“Yes, of course. Let’s talk and figure this out.”

Isaiah’s face was close to the crack, probably so he could speak without shouting. “What is there to talk about? You broke the truce.”

“So that’s it, Isaiah? What about the no-fighting rules? Don’t you care about those, or do you only care about the truce?”

“The truce is what keeps order around here. Do you want to go back to the way things used to be?”

“I know,” Curtis said. He motioned for me to take his place holding the toolbox. As I did, he cautiously moved over so he could see out the door. “I want to keep the truce, and I want to keep the order. Let’s talk about this and see what we can do.”

The shouting didn’t stop on the other side, but Isaiah, Oakland, and Mouse didn’t answer for a minute. I watched the door. I didn’t want to look at anyone; I didn’t want anyone looking at me. I hadn’t expected this to be so bad.

“You come out,” Oakland finally said.

Curtis looked back at the V’s. “Okay. But here’s the deal. You guys back away from the door. The V’s are safe until we’re done talking. Got it?”

The noise died down as the other gangs talked. “Fine, but here’s
our
deal. Carrie comes, too.”

“No.” Curtis was staring at her now, horrified. Tears spilled down her face.

“Yes,” Oakland said. “I don’t know what crap you’re trying to pull, but I don’t want you playing the martyr while everyone tries to run. Carrie comes with us, too, and if your gang tries anything stupid . . .” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Curtis was glaring at me now, and I wondered whether he was just going to throw me out into the hall. Finally, Carrie stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

Curtis grabbed the front of my shirt. His voice was a low, animal-like growl. “I am not going to let anything happen to her, got that?”

I nodded.

He stared at me, his eyes boring down into mine, and his teeth clenched. Carrie reached over and took his hand.

“Okay,” Curtis called over his shoulder, his gaze still on me. “We’re coming.” Finally, he turned toward the V’s, his eyes going from face to face. “Hector, you’re in charge. Keep ’em safe.”

Hector nodded solemnly. His fingers were tight around the claw hammer in his hands. He looked just as ready to attack me with it as defend me.

Curtis stepped to the door. “We’re all coming out. All the V’s. Gangs’ll stay away from each other, and we meet in the foyer. That work?”

There was a pause. “That works.”

“Okay. Everybody back away.”

All of us were tense, watching Curtis and Carrie as they waited at the door. This could all be a trick—they could attack as soon as we came out—and all of us knew it. Curtis’s and Carrie’s hands were tight together, their knuckles white.

Curtis motioned to us, and we pushed the toolbox away from the door. Hector moved up right behind our unarmed leaders, and the rest of us followed as they slowly opened the door. The hall in front was clear. They stepped out.

I glanced down the back hall. I could see the outside doors. No one was blocking them.

“We’re coming,” Curtis said. “You have Carrie and me as collateral. The V’s are going to wait outside.” He motioned to Hector, who immediately began hurrying us down the hall toward the doors.

Shouting swelled behind us, and I heard Curtis yell over the noise. “They’re not escaping. They’re just going where you can’t get them while we talk.”

We ran to the doors. I checked my watch. 5:51
a.m
.

Mason was the first to reach them, a pipe wrench hanging in his hand. There was a buzz and click, and he pushed the door open.

Chapter Twenty-three

H
ector waited as the rest of the V’s ran outside. I was at the back of the group, and when I reached him I paused.

“Well?” he said, scowling. “Whatever you’re doing, you’d better hurry.”

“Yeah.” I hefted the crowbar in my hand and then sprinted for the incinerator and the door. I hadn’t been back to it since everything had happened—I hadn’t wanted to touch it, or relive it. I’d been replaying the whole thing in my mind enough as it was.

I stopped in front of it, the incinerator to my right. The door didn’t look like anything special. It was metal, painted a warm brown to match the building’s brick. The knob was silver, round and smooth, and one of the unlocking sensors was fastened to the brick above the jamb.

Behind it was a scene I didn’t want to revisit, but I knew I had to. It was the only way to persuade them to run—the only way to get anyone to believe. They had to know what was going on. They had to be scared.

“So what do we do?” Hector was standing beside me now, his breath puffing in cold clouds.

“I’m going to break in.”

“What do you need me to do?”

I looked at him, surprised. “Hector—”

He interrupted, gesturing back toward the doors we’d just left. “Just tell me what to do. We only have an hour.”

I nodded. He didn’t want to help me; he wanted to help Curtis and Carrie.

I stepped up to the door, which fit snugly into the jamb; there was hardly any gap between. I tested putting the wedged tip of the crowbar in the crack, but it didn’t go far.

“Here,” he said, holding up his hammer.

I held the crowbar in place and he tapped it with the hammer, trying to push the edge into the gap. But it wasn’t going far. After a dozen taps, he shook his head. “It’s not working.”

I knocked on the metal, and it resonated. The door was hollow. That was something. My worry had been that the door wasn’t a regular door, that it was some kind of reinforced vault. But, it seemed perfectly normal.

“Stand back,” I said. He moved away.

I swung the crowbar down at the knob. It clanged loudly and bounced off. The vibrations in my injured arm stung viciously, but I tried to ignore them. I looked down at the knob. A small dent, but that was all.

“Keep trying,” someone said. I didn’t look to see who.

I hit it again and again, banging down on the metal handle until it was bent and scratched.

I had to get inside. I didn’t even care about the consequences of going back to face the other gangs now—I needed to show them this.

“Mason,” Hector called. “Get over here.”

I stopped for a breath. I was sweating now, overheated under my sweatshirt even though it was freezing outside. As I watched Mason approach, I saw the others. All the V’s were standing behind us.

Hector directed Mason to the door. “Your turn.”

He looked surprised, but he couldn’t have been more shocked than I was.

“You won’t be in trouble,” he assured him. “They’ll think Benson did it.”

He pointed up at the building. “Did you see them?”

On the floor above us a dozen faces were pressed against the windows, trying to look down and figure out what we were doing.

“Just do it,” Hector said, looking back at the door.

A little smile appeared on Mason’s face. He raised his heavy pipe wrench and swung it onto the knob. His first blow skidded a few inches down the metal door, scraping a silver gash in the paint. I watched him as he pounded it again and again, raising his arms, taking a breath, and then slamming it down.

And suddenly I was watching Dylan with his pipe, relentlessly beating Jane. I bent in half and then fell to a crouch, trying not to throw up.

Gabby jogged over from the rest of the V’s. While Mason worked, she spoke to Hector.

“They’re trying to force the door,” she said. “They’re coming out here.”

“Who is?”

Gabby’s eyes were wide, and her chin was trembling. “The other gangs. I don’t know who. But I can hear them.”

Hector turned to the others. “Tapti, you and Gabby watch the door. If they break through, get back here as fast as you can.” He directed two others toward the far corner of the building to watch for someone coming that way, and then sent two more fifty yards back from us to watch the windows. “Benson’s turn again.”

I took the pipe wrench from Mason—it was heavier and he was having more luck with it—and began smashing the knob again. He’d done a lot of damage—it was bent down at a forty-five-degree angle. I hit it three times but then asked for the crowbar back. I’d noticed the bent knob had folded away from the door—there was a half-inch gap.

Mason helped me position the bar, jamming in the sharp wedge, and then we both pried with all our strength. It felt so close.

Hector jumped in and then called for Joel.

I heard a shout somewhere and for a moment all three of us stopped to look. We couldn’t see anything.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the grenades.

“Here,” I said, shoving them into Hector’s hands. “They’re filled with pepper spray.”

A smile crossed his face for an instant, but then he pointed at the door again. “You’d better hurry.”

He left in a run.

“Come on,” I said, turning back to the knob and yanking again on the crowbar. The strain was sending bolts of pain across my chest and ribs, but I continued. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like it was moving ever so slightly.

“They’re coming,” someone behind us said. I felt the pressure in the bar lessen as Joel turned to look.

“One more time,” I urged. “Come on.”

Dozens of voices were yelling now, and I was suddenly aware that all of the V’s were close, surrounding us. Guarding us.

I pushed with all my strength, my arms and legs quivering as I struggled to move the bar. Joel put a foot on the door for leverage and Mason grunted.

With a pop, all three of us fell, the crowbar flipping and launching the broken doorknob in the air.

The door was still closed, leaving a hole where the knob used to be. Unfortunately, a horizontal bar crossed through the hole—the door was still locked.

I heard Skiver’s voice, and he was close. It didn’t sound like anyone had started fighting yet, though.

I picked up the crowbar and looked at Mason and Joel. They didn’t know what to do.

Just as I had raised the crowbar to ram into the hole, I heard someone say, “Benson. Wait!” I lowered the bar and looked.

Rosa was behind me. I felt my body tense, and my grip tightened on the crowbar.

“If you smash it you’ll bend the locking mechanism and you’ll never get it open,” she said. Pushing past me, she knelt at the door, peering in the hole. She pulled out a pocketknife and unfolded the screwdriver.

I looked back at the crowd around us. It was mostly Havoc, but there were a few Society kids there, too. No one had started fighting yet—none of the leaders were there—but they all were screaming at one another.

Rosa had only been fiddling with the knob for thirty seconds when I heard her say, “All done.”

She stood, pulling on the door with two fingers. It swung open.

I stared at her. Wasn’t she supposed to stop me? Was she an android setting a trap, or was I wrong about her?

At the movement of the door, the mob dropped into low murmurs. Even the V’s, who had been ready for a fight, turned enough to see what was behind the door.

I suddenly felt completely overwhelmed. I couldn’t walk down there alone.

“Mason,” I said, motioning him over.

He stood in front of me, peering cautiously down the half-open door. His voice was quiet and trembling. “What’s down there, Fish?”

I stared. Everything was silent.

I glanced at him. “Give me a second?”

He took a long, deep breath. “Yeah. But not much more than that. They’re not going to stay calm for long.”

“Okay.”

I stepped around the door, almost not wanting to touch it. The hallway was lit like before, with the dim blue glow of an old fluorescent bulb. The concrete walls seemed wider than before, and the ceiling higher.

It was terrifying.

I walked slowly, the noises of the students behind me vanishing as my mind focused on what I might find. I needed some sign of what had happened, but I knew the best I could hope for was the computer. There were computer experts in the school; even if they could only pull up information about
model: jane 117c
then I might be able to convince them.

But part of me suddenly didn’t want to find anything. I could barely breathe as I walked, the memories of that night pouring through my mind. The awkward way she’d limped on obviously broken legs, the deadness of her eyes, the voice that wasn’t hers.

The hall was coming to an end, and I stopped, not wanting to enter the room.

But the V’s couldn’t hold the others off forever. I needed to get back there. I’d promised no one would get hurt.

I stepped into the room.

“Jane,” I gasped.

She was still there, exactly where I’d left her. How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? More?

I couldn’t walk to her. There was no way my legs would carry me.

I was suddenly aware of tears running down my face.

There was the scuffle of footsteps behind me, and I felt a hand on my arm.

“Benson.” Hector spoke, but he was behind me in the hall and couldn’t have seen her body. It was Mason who entered first.

He inhaled sharply. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “What the hell . . . ?”

I heard more people enter the hallway above us and felt compelled to get to Jane before they did, so we crossed the room to her body.

Jane was lying down now. She wore the same dress, torn and stained with blood. With the exception of the blue lighting that cast a deathly pall on her skin, she looked asleep.

I caught a lingering scent of her perfume—vanilla and roses—and had to turn away.

The other V’s were just coming into the room, and the noise from the hall was getting loud. Mason swore. He’d seen the ear. Maybe the cable was still plugged in. I didn’t want to look.

The crowd was staring and quiet, and as new people came into the room they almost immediately froze.

“This is Jane,” I said, talking through my tears. “Laura and Dylan killed her, like I told you. But she came down here that night.” My chest was tight and I could hardly get air to speak. I gritted my teeth and looked down at the concrete floor, not wanting to see the horror on anyone else’s face.

“Is she dead?” someone asked. I knew what he meant, but I could hardly bring myself to respond. I’d tried to convince myself that this was simple, that I could think about it rationally, not emotionally, but I couldn’t.

“Yes,” I breathed. “And no.” I raised my hand and motioned them over, and the group—probably forty students by now—slowly crossed the room toward her body.

I forced myself to look.

Someone had been there. Half of the skin and hair on Jane’s head had been peeled back revealing a steel skull. Half a dozen cables now ran to the computer, and a tray of tools—scalpels, tweezers, tiny screwdrivers, and others I didn’t recognize—lay on the table next to her head.

I stood there, not moving as they passed around me. One by one I heard the gasps and shrieks as they saw the exposed metal of Jane’s android skull. Whispers bounced through the crowd as the ones at the front passed the news to the back and ones in the back refused to believe.

One of the girls pushed past me and ran up the hallway and out of the building. I wanted to follow her—to run away and never think of this place again—but instead I moved to the back of the room, crouched down, and leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes. Things would be different now.