Instead I made eye contact with General Darke. I wanted him to know that I was paying attention.
“We’re a bit crippled without technology,” he said. “We can’t get our cache system to work, and the barrier is still down. None of the runners have returned.” He turned to the Transportation Director, a Thinker I knew little about. “Marco, have you heard anything?”
“No, sir,” Marco said. “The runners are trained to be fast. They have ways of communicating with the Directors without dealing with barriers and rules.”
Three days had passed. They definitely should’ve been back by now, especially since both Grande and Arrow Falls are within a half-day’s ride of Freedom. If General Darke was worried about their tardiness, he didn’t show it. But Marco did. His hands twisted over and around each other; he glanced from one face to the next.
I caught his eye and made the slightest motion with my right hand.
Which made me think Marco totally had something to hide. I’d need to position myself next to him before he left. Find out everything I could. That’s what Directors do. They know everything that’s happening in their city, and I needed to know what Marco was hiding.
General Darke spoke of the cleanup, reading verbatim from my report. No one else knew that, but I did. He went through the list of people we’d lost during the Resistance attack. New Thinkers were needed in the Medical, Evolutionary, Confinement, and Technology Rises. Freedom needed a new Director, and that person would also become the new Regional Director in the eastern city belt.
He assigned new Directors, some of whom were in the room and others who would be promoted from their current jobs. New weight settled on the shoulders of those assigned to crumbled Rises, as they’d be responsible for getting them rebuilt and functioning.
“With the loss of Van Hightower,” General Darke said, “Freedom needs a new Director. I won’t be able to stay here forever.” He surveyed the group, and I felt like he was judging each of us. I wasn’t sure I met his expectations. Scratch that. As a seventeen-year-old who had very recently played for the other side, I didn’t come close to the General’s expectations.
The experience and talent—and loyalty—of the other Thinkers in the room outweighed mine, despite the General’s recruitment speech in Castledale. I knew I had talents he wanted, I just didn’t know if they were enough.
“Zenn Bower,” he said finally. I don’t know what he saw when he looked at me, but I saw a calculating old man when I looked at him.
I was the most surprised by the announcement, but definitely not the angriest. But no one argued with the General. They’d accept me as their Director, because if they didn’t, they’d die. General Darke would make sure of that. For now, I appreciated his protection. My fists clenched as I wondered what would happen when the General left Freedom and I had to Direct by myself.
Once the General concluded his business, I edged my way over to Marco. I met cold glances and near-silent scoffs every step of the way, but I didn’t care. I’d been on the fringes of the Insiders for weeks. The girl I loved disliked me so much, she’d punched me. Nothing here was as agonizing as being in the same room with Vi yet not being with her.
I sipped my bottled water as Marco chatted with the new Medical Director. He finally stepped away, and I seized my opportunity. “Tense in there, yeah?”
Marco looked at me, but said nothing. He zipped his jacket as if he might leave before General Darke dismissed us. He wouldn’t. So I said, “The runners are probably just caught in the storm.”
“Hopefully.” He turned away from General Darke, who lingered near the head of the table, speaking with the new Evolutionary Director.
“You used to run, Zenn. What’s it like out there?”
“Dangerous,” I said, bringing my bottled water to my lips to disguise their movement.
“Hmm.” Marco fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets to mask his agitation. It was a classic Insider move.
“Who’d you send?” I asked. “Maybe I know them and can tell you of their flying abilities.” I was lying, of course. Why would a former junior assistant from Rise Nine know any of the city’s runners? Employing my voice power, I asked again, “So who’d you send?”
Marco bounced on the balls of his feet. “No one. I didn’t send anyone.”
I couldn’t help it; I stared openly. Was he confiding in me, or had I coerced him with my voice? Was he playing me, the new Director of Freedom, hoping I wouldn’t discipline him for his daring act of rebellion? Now, when the General would punish anyone who so much as sneezed before asking permission?
“What are you going to do about it, Director?” he asked, sneering out the last word. That’s when I knew: He knew what I would have to do, and he was pushing me to see if I’d do it.
I made it to the bathroom before throwing up.
Three days later, Marco was buried in a shallow grave alongside the clones. General Director Darke stood next to me, his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture of support.
I didn’t cry. I’d done that at home. At night. In private. Well, mostly. General Darke had witnessed one episode when I couldn’t call back the tears fast enough. He hadn’t chastised me. He’d simply said, “Hard times call for hard decisions, Zenn. You wanted to run this city, you have to run this city.”
Then he’d left me alone in my townhome to cry, cry until I didn’t feel anything anymore.
Afterward, I’d ordered Marco’s execution, and I’d sent runners to Arrow Falls and Grande.
They were due to return within the hour. With their intel, maybe I’d be able to get security back up in Freedom. Maybe I’d figure out a way to get the brainwashing messages out again.
Maybe I’d find a way to regain control of my Citizens. Six days had gone by without a single transmission. My voice wasn’t strong enough to make recordings, even if I had the proper equipment.
And the people of Freedom were waking up. Yesterday Citizens began to venture outside their homes. I’d used the remaining Enforcement Officers to herd them to the green area outside Rise Two, and I’d asked the people to bring any tech they had stored in their homes.
So far only four people had brought items, and they ranged from a sleeve of microchips to the family food dispenser. I couldn’t refuse them their only way of eating—I wasn’t that heartless—and I’d sent them home again.
The only reason I hadn’t been run out of town, or buried in the shallow graves I’d helped dig, was because of Marco’s execution. The people were afraid.
I was running my city on fear.
When my runners didn’t return at the appointed time, I retreated to my town house. I couldn’t cry anymore. I’d made my choice when I signed Marco’s death sentence, and I’d live with it.
If General Darke didn’t kill me first.
Jag
45.
