When We Wake (23 page)

“Kneel down and lace your fingers on top of your head. Dr. Carmen, there are restraints in my briefcase. Get them.”

“But—”

“Get them.”

Marie gasped and scrambled back. I saw her pick up the briefcase from behind the kitchen bench, then carefully put it down. Her eyes met mine over his shoulder.

I needed to distract and delay him. I needed something that would make sure his attention was on me. “What’s the Ark Project, Trevor?” I asked softly.

His eyes narrowed. “Who told you about that?”

“What is it?”

“Humanity’s last chance.”

My confusion must have been clear, because he let out a harsh laugh. “Do you know what happens when the Antarctic ice sheet goes, Tegan? And it
is
going. The Gulf Stream will enter thermohaline circulation shutdown. In a century, maybe less, we’re looking at the beginning of an oceanic anoxic event. Do you know what that is?” He sighed, sounding genuinely weary. “Of course you don’t. You’re an ignorant little girl, and your politics have always been a pose. Get on your knees, Tegan. I won’t ask again.”

And then Marie smashed the fruit bowl into the back of his head.

It was clumsy, violent, and effective. Dawson jerked, and the gun went wide.

Even then, we might have been in real trouble, if not for what Zaneisha had taught me. Lunging forward, I twisted the gun out of his grip and delivered an elbow strike to his face. I hit him in the nose and felt something crunch.

He stumbled. Marie hit him again, and he dropped like a stone.

“I’m sorry!” Marie said, and dropped the remains of the bowl. They shattered on the floor, and in the ringing silence we stared at each other.

“I can’t believe that worked,” I said. “I can’t believe I remembered how to do it.”

“Zaneisha is a very effective teacher,” Marie said brightly, and then stared at Dawson. “What’s the Ark Project?”

“You don’t know?”

“Tegan, I have no idea.”

“Oh, thank god,” I said, and stumbled forward to hug her. “It’s a big secret military thing, I think. I’ll explain as much as I can, but we have to go.” My elbow hurt from hitting him. Zaneisha hadn’t mentioned that would happen.

“Just a minute.” She felt for Dawson’s pulse. “He’s alive. Oh, good. We’ll have to tie him up.”

“We should take him downstairs,” I suggested.

In the end, we did both. The restraints in Dawson’s briefcase went around his own wrists and ankles, and we pushed him under Marie’s bed before heading back upstairs to clean up.

I couldn’t make myself pick up the gun, but I shoved it under
the couch with my foot. I avoided the sonic pistol, too, but I took Dawson’s computer, his EarRing, and everything else I could find that might be useful. His wallet had four thousand in cash, which wouldn’t get us very far, but was better than nothing. I tucked the plastic tokens into my tunic pockets.

“Is that everything?” Marie asked. “All right, so… I suppose we should leave.” She picked up a fallen banana and stuffed it down the neckline of her gown. “Supplies,” she explained.

We didn’t run, not quite. We just moved very quickly to Marie’s car, and she pulled out into the street before anyone from the house across the road could stop us to make inquiries about why we were leaving without bodyguards.

Marie drove for a few minutes before she started talking, her voice curiously matter-of-fact. “Oceanic anoxia is when there isn’t enough oxygen in the water to keep sea life alive. Anoxic events tend to lead to mass extinctions. Trevor must have access to resources I don’t; I had no idea the Antarctic ice sheet was in imminent danger.”

I was finding it hard to breathe myself. “The planet’s dying?”

“Oh no. It’s happened many times before, geologically speaking. The planet will keep going quite happily. Humanity might not, though. At the very least, things are going to get a lot worse for a lot of people. My research is beginning to seem quite frivolous.”

“What’s going to happen to you?” I asked.

Marie took a deep breath. “I’ve probably lost my job. Now. Tell me what you know about this Ark Project.”

We discussed it as she drove. It was a huge relief that Marie wasn’t involved with whatever Dawson was keeping hidden, but she also didn’t have any clue what it could be.

“You didn’t hear a whisper of anything?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know that facility even existed. And the containers you describe could have held almost anything. Sensitive scientific equipment, weapons, even enriched uranium, though I’d have to hope they aren’t playing with that so close to residential areas.”

“What about the name? It could be a reference to Noah’s Ark,” I suggested. “Or the Ark of the Testimony that held the Ten Commandments.”

“That’s not much of a clue, either. Army project and operation names can be very obscure, sometimes purposely so.”

“So you don’t know anything,” I said, and slumped in my seat.

“Well, perhaps. You say that the Inheritor man Gregor shot first alerted you to the project?”

“Yes.”

“I believe one of the founders of the Inheritors of the Earth was a military man,” she said.

I sat up straight again. “The Father?”

“Oh, no. The church was established some decades ago. He’d be very old by now, if he’s still alive at all. Still, there might be a connection there.”

She pulled the car over outside an apartment block.

The massive concrete structure could have been one of the state housing buildings from my time, but this one had yellow wind turbines on top and a sign out front declaring it to be Mellufius Apartments. There was a crowded bike rack and a tiny garden of wilting grass, lit up with pink lights. Probably housing for corporate cogs who were working too hard to care much about where they slept.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “They’ll probably find Trevor fairly soon, which means they’ll start tracking this vehicle. So I’m going to drive as far as I can before they catch me. And you’re going to go somewhere else.”

“No!”

“Yes, Tegan. I can try to confuse them for a little while. Enough to give you a decent head start.”

I could see the sense in that, but I didn’t have to like it. “And what will I do?”

She held up her computer. “I can probably steal you a car from this parking lot.”

“Um, I can’t drive.”

“You can jump off buildings, blackmail the Department of Defence, spy on a secret project, and bring down a professional holding a gun on you, but you can’t
drive
?”

“I was always too busy to learn,” I said indignantly, and she laughed breathlessly for a moment.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. What would they do to her when they worked out what she’d done?

“Come with me,” I said.

“No.” She pushed the car door open, and I got out, too. “Can you ride a bike?”

“Sure.”

Marie headed toward the rack, kneeling down by one of the bikes. “Do you have somewhere to hide?”

No
, I thought, and opened my mouth to say so, but Marie shook her head. “Don’t tell me where. It’s better I don’t know.”

Well, all right. I’d come up with something.

“Keep moving if you can. Don’t log into any networks under your own name, and get a clean computer if you possibly can. Try to get across the state lines. Change your appearance. Oh, and give me your EarRing. They can track you with it.”

“You sound like a spy.”

“I’ve just watched a lot of detective movies,” she confessed, and then hugged me again, so tight it hurt. A good hurting. “Don’t let them find you.” She pressed something cold and hard into my hand: Dawson’s sonic pistol. She must have picked it up before we left. My hands shook taking it—it wasn’t really a gun, but it was gun-shaped—and I made sure the safety was on before tucking it into my belt.

“I love you, Marie,” I said.

I hadn’t meant to. It just fell out of my mouth. But her eyes went wide, and she touched her throat. “I love you, too, Tegan. Now. Go.”

I went.

For the record, riding a bike isn’t just like riding a bike when it’s a fancy-pants future bike with “helpful” GPS corrections and traffic advice. The first time the bike computer spoke, I nearly pitched over the handlebars in shock, and only a wild swerve and some frantic leg pumping got me my balance back.

The bike also kept calling me Markus.

I felt a little bad about that, but mostly I hoped Markus wouldn’t notice his bike was stolen and activate the trackers until well into the morning. I needed somewhere to go, and while I was thinking of where that might be, I needed to get some distance from where Marie had seen me last.

Bethari and Joph had been watching the interview at Joph’s place.

I couldn’t stay there, but Bethari might have useful contacts from her investigative journalism. It was vaguely possible that she’d know people who would know people who could keep me hidden.

Those people would want to be paid, no doubt, and Dawson’s stolen cash wouldn’t get me very far, but it was a start.

Joph lived in the Flying Towers, which was a famously fancy building. I told the bike computer to direct me there and whipped around the next left as instructed.

I bumped over the poorly kept roads and felt very nearly happy. Sure, I was cycling through the dark city on a stolen bike, fleeing the Australian army, but it was the first time since my reawakening that I’d been out on my own. It was nearly midnight, and the streets were relatively quiet. The hot air smothered
all sounds but my own panting breaths and the metallic slither of my leggings against the chain ring.

As I got closer to the central city, I saw more people. They were walking home after a late shift, or clustered in cafés, or getting legally high in a breathe bar. If I ignored the omnipresent advertising blaring from every bar door, and the clean-smelling air, much nicer than in my carbon-polluted time, I could make believe that I was home.

I was humming, the chorus to “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” buzzing over and over again to the steady rhythm of my legs.

The mood didn’t last. By the time I got to Joph’s building, I’d stopped making music and started ducking my head when people looked at me. The heavy interview costume had collected every drop of sweat, and the contact lenses in my eyes were itching unbearably. I dumped Marcus’s bike two blocks from the Flying Towers and walked the rest of the way, forcing myself to a steady, unremarkable pace. The Flying Towers didn’t actually fly, just stretched up high enough to imply that they
could
. The apartment building was a dinosaur, an energy-inefficient glass-and-steel monstrosity that flaunted the wealth of the inhabitants like Tatia flaunted her sense of style.

No human eyes watched me enter the lobby, but my skin was crawling under the surveillance I knew was there. A building like this recorded the presence of everyone in it. But it also kept the information to itself, protected behind strict privacy
laws and enough money and influence to make even the army hesitate before demanding the records—I hoped.

“I want to see Joph Montgomery,” I said to the air. I’d seen enough contemporary movies to know that places like this would have a building computer screening the guests.

There was a pause just long enough to set my every last nerve on edge, and then the lobby computer spoke. “Please enter the elevator to your left.”

A section of paneling slid away to reveal the elevator. There were no buttons inside the door. The elevator would deliver me to the right floor, and no other.

I leaned against the shiny wall, second-guessing every choice that had brought me there and regretting everything I’d left behind—Abbey on my bed, Koko on my nightstand, Marie driving into the night, where absolutely anything could happen to her.

Then I took a deep breath and braced myself for what had to come next.