She leans closer, keeping her voice low. “I’ve burnt bridges on both sides, Jesse. For you. I can’t go back to the Academy or to Madame. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you.” She reaches up and rubs her forehead.
“Headache again?”
She nods, shutting her eyes. “Wouldn’t happen to have an aspirin, would you?”
I shake my head, turning back to the window and the thick darkness outside. The Chute lurches to the left. I turn my head to see the tail end of the train curving out behind us. Cassius is back there somewhere, planning his next move. He could be calling Madame at this very moment, letting her know where to pick us up.
My heart sinks. We escaped the city, but this Chute is a moving prison-a serpentine gift box wrapped up just for Madame. If the Unified Party’s anywhere near as organized as everyone says they are, they’re going to pounce on us as soon as we get to Spokane.
I face forward. Avery’s eyes flutter closed, exhausted. Rather than broach the subject, I keep the panicked thought to myself, searching my mind for a game plan as we tear through the Northwestern wasteland.
28
Cassius squeezed into the one remaining seat at the tail end of the Chute, between an overweight man in a business suit and a teenaged girl with dark blue hair. As soon as he was settled, he buried his face in his hands, cursing silently.
The automated “welcome aboard” announcement came over the speakers but he tuned it out, smacking his fist against his forehead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The blue-haired girl noticed, raising the headphone on her earpiece. Her frenetic music formed a tinny symphony above his head. “You okay, man?”
He sat up, glaring at her. She backed off, flipping the headphone and turning her attention to the window.
He wasn’t okay. First he’d lost Fisher on the Skyship, then he’d lost him on the Surface. Worse yet, when Madame finally arrived in Portland expecting to find him, all she’d get was an empty prison cell and a bunch of beaten-up guards. Then Cassius would never have a chance of opening the black cube and discovering what was inside.
What’s more, Fisher seemed utterly clueless about what had actually happened back on the rooftop. Madame had seemed convinced that the guy was responsible for his combustion, but looking into Fisher’s eyes, listening to his panicked voice, Cassius wasn’t so sure anymore. Madame lied to others. Maybe she was lying to him now.
The windows filled with the sprawling darkness of the Fringes. The cabin lights flickered off for a brief moment as the temperature control kicked in. He felt a vibration in his pocket. His com-pad beeped.
He reached for it, glancing down at the front screen. Madame’s code flashed in tiny numbers, on and off in rhythm with the beeping.
Don’t let them transfer Fisher, she’d said. He was pretty sure escaping on the Chute was worse than being transferred.
He hit the button on the side of the com-pad to silence it, staring at the numbers as they flashed noiselessly. If he didn’t answer, she’d know there was trouble. If he did, he’d have to explain the situation. Or lie. She’d see through a lie.
Before he had a chance to make up his mind, the numbers disappeared and the screen went dead. He took a deep breath, realizing what he’d just done. If she wanted to track him, it’d be easy enough to activate the microchip inside of the device. She’d probably already done so.
He wasn’t scared of her. He couldn’t be. She was like a mother to him. Like a mother, but not really.
No, she was a member of the Unified Party first and foremost. He’d seen a glimpse of it back on Atlas, a peek into the things she didn’t talk about… the choices the country had been forced to make after the bombings. He couldn’t deal with her right now-not while he still needed to capture Fisher. Let her call him when he had some good news. Talking would only complicate things-cause him to second-guess himself.
He couldn’t face her empty-handed.
He put the com-pad back in his pocket, forgetting it.
Two hours-two hours to think of something, some way to capture Fisher without getting the government involved.
He glanced over to the blue-haired girl, bobbing her head to the music, eyes shut. So unaware.
He loosened his collar, cursing himself once more before reclining in the seat and closing his eyes. Focusing.
29
The girl I’ve been in love with for almost three years is working for the enemy.
An hour into our journey, I pass the time by slowly unraveling a thread from a hole in the arm of my school suit. Then I start to play with the gauze around my shoulder. It itches. I decide to take it off and stuff it into my pocket. Underneath, my skin is as smooth as it ever was. Weird.
Whatever they did to us before chucking us into the cell certainly did the trick.
Avery’s slumped over, fast asleep with her head on my shoulder. Normally I’d be mass psyched about this little turn of events, but not now. Not with so much to think about.
She’s working for the enemy, the Unified Party-the group everyone’s warned me about since I was a kid.
She’s clever, that’s for sure. She fooled the faculty. She fooled me. Yet somehow I don’t think it’s all an act. Maybe with the rest of them, but not with me.
My mind rockets back to the day we first met. I was at Lookout Park, hiding behind the thickest tree I could find, pressed up against the protective dome. August Bergmann and his cronies had threatened to stuff me into one of the supply lockers and rig it shut. I’d slipped away after class, pressing through the crowd of students into the elevators before they could come after me. I spent the next period squeezed behind the tree. Not my proudest moment.
Then I heard her. “Hey kid,” she’d said. I looked up and there she was, perched in the branches like some crazy animal. I’d never seen a girl like her before. Turned out she was skipping class too, though not for the same reason as me. We spent the next hour talking. She seemed to understand it all-the big picture. She knew everything I was going through.
Now I understand it. She’d been spying on me before that conversation. She did know everything about me, maybe more than I knew myself. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that she’d cared enough to comfort me. Nobody else had.
Before meeting Avery, I’d had to make do with my teammates. Skandar’s cool, but never really understood things like she did. And Eva… Eva obviously had ulterior motives.
I do my best not to move, taking light breaths so I won’t wake her. Most of the passengers in our car have fallen asleep, too. I don’t blame them. There’s nothing to see outside beyond the darkness. Twice we’ve passed tiny Fringe Towns with one or two makeshift lanterns perched on tall wooden posts. The lights whipped by so fast that I barely noticed them. It’s better that way. After what happened back in Syracuse, I’m not too eager to try my luck again in the Fringes.
Then something hits the window on the far end of our cabin, breaking the stillness. My shoulder jerks back into the seat. The poor old woman across from us pops up with a start, looking around.
Avery shifts in her seat. I freeze, hoping that she won’t wake up. Too late.
Another microsecond and the noise rattles the window once more. Then again. Again.
A volley of rocks batter the outside of the Chute like maniacal, heavy rain, pelting the windows. The cabin jostles, waking up those who weren’t already alert. Muted shouts of anger echo outside.
A second later and it’s gone.
