encouragingly. “The riot didn’t make a dent because it was impromptu. This way, the Resistance will begin to get training, and more importantly, weapons. We’ll have bigger numbers and better organization.”
“With all the nightly raids, we’ll be lucky to last a few more days without getting caught,” Gideon says. “We’re only alive because we’re always on the move. As soon as the meters show an empty apartment’s using oxygen, they come for us.”
“So what are you saying?” Harriet asks her husband.
“The border’s closed, as is the biosphere. They’ve shut us down,” he responds.
“Not yet, they haven’t. Just stay on the move and if we can get hold of any airtanks we’ll get them to you,” Bea says. “You continue to grow, and we’ll all recruit and keep training to breathe with low oxygen.”
Old Watson yawns and drains his mug. “So whatever way you look at it, it’s either a war, or capture and death,” he says.
“That’s right,” Bea says. “Now let’s get on it.”
I ensconce Bea in Wendy’s annex and head into the house. The toilet flushes and Lance Vine comes into the kitchen zipping up his fly. “Ronan,” he says. He wipes his hands on the front of his pants, which are an inch too short for his spindly legs.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Pod Minister,” I say. He’s the
“Really.” Vine pauses, giving me time to respond, but I stand stolid. “Niamh’s been helping me type up a new bill. I’ve been admiring your lovely home, actually. Real marble?” He touches the kitchen counter and whistles. “Don’t think any of the ministers live in such splendor. But then, Cain was always a bit of a hedonist.” He opens a cupboard and peers at the array of glasses and tableware. He smiles. “So no signs of the RATS, then?” I shake my head. “Time to get the zips fired up, I’d say.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say—Jude will have to deal with Lance Vine. “What’s the bill you’re working on?” I take out my pad and scroll through the messages, so he won’t think I’m too interested.
“We’re siphoning oxygen from empty apartments or tenants who don’t pay their taxes. It’s only fair.” He watches me.
“People will die,” I say.
“RATS are squatting and using air for free.”
“You’re back!” Niamh is standing beaming under the doorframe, but she doesn’t go so far as to rush at me for a hug.
“Your brother seems unsure about the new bill,” Vine tells her.
Niamh tuts. “He acts tough, but Ronan’s a softie.”
“Is that so?” Vine asks.
“Only where the innocent are concerned,” I say, hardening my gaze. He doesn’t frighten me half as much as my father could.
“Well, RATS are far from innocent,” Niamh says pointedly, trying to prove to Vine that we’re safely on his side.
“How can you know that for sure?” Vine asks. Niamh hesitates, frowns, and is about to respond when Vine smiles playfully. “Just kidding,” he says, and throws his jacket on. “It’s late. I’ll let you both get to bed.” And without another word, he heads out the back door.
Niamh sits on the stool next to me and lets her head flop onto the countertop. “He thinks I’m stupid,” she says. She groans and closes her eyes. “I bet he’ll sack me.”
I make her sit up and look at me. “What are you doing working with the Ministry anyway?”
She stares at me like she’s trying to remember who I am. “The RATS killed Daddy.”
“Vine isn’t going to bring him back,” I say gently.
“Lance Vine was Daddy’s friend.” She goes to the window. “I want to be useful.”
And I understand that. I want to be useful, too. But why must we be on different sides? Why can’t she see what’s happening?
“You should go to bed,” I say.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Niamh says. She fills her water glass and strolls out of the kitchen.
I’m fooling myself if I think I can convince Niamh that our father was responsible for his own death.
And I can’t be her conscience; it would be pointless to try.
PART III
THE ESCAPE
38
QUINN
Bea’s running, being chased by armed stewards, and my father’s at the head of the hunt, carrying one of those old-fashioned muskets. Eventually Bea falls and I’m there, too, rooted to the road and peering down at her. “Anything’s better than this,” she says, but before I can save her, Ronan is dragging her away. All I can do is retreat slowly into the shadows like a coward. She looks up at Ronan and smiles. Then she kisses him.
I wake with a start, feeling penned in.
Clarice has her arm draped over me. She’s snoring. I peel her away and sit up, untangling the airtank’s tubing, which has somehow managed to wrap itself around my neck in the night. I wish I’d stop having these nightmares.
I get out of bed, bringing the airtank with me. I’m still in my pants, but pull on the sweater I left on the nightstand.
Clarice stirs and turns over to face me. “This is a bit awkward,” she says through a yawn, which is the biggest bloody understatement ever. “But don’t worry. We’ll get used to each other.” She seems harmless, but I feel too guilty to go as far as to like her; it should be Bea lying next to me, and I would have put my arm around her waist and my face into her neck during the night. As it was, I lay dangled over the edge of the bed in case I accidently touched Clarice, keeping one eye open for as long as I could in case Vanya or Maks stormed in.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask.
“Four years. I used to live in the pod. Glad to be out of there. Especially now with what’s going on.”
“Yeah,” I say. I go to the door, where two pieces of gray paperlike sheets have been pushed under it during the night. They’re identical apart from our names. I throw Clarice hers and read mine.
SCHEDULE FOR QUINN B. CAFFREY
STATS—Immunity: Level 7 Fert: Level A IQ: 152
Ox Con: Excellent Blood Type: A+
PARTNER—CLARICE BIRD
6:30 am Meditation – Room #12
9:30 am Academics’ breakfast – Annex
10:00 am Cardio – Room #20
1:30 pm Academics’ lunch – Annex
2:30 pm Yoga – Room #7
5:30 pm Study – The Main House library
7:30 pm Dinner – Sitting 1 – Annex
8:30 pm Shots – Room #4e
9:00 pm Meditation – Room #12
10:00 pm Lights out
