Coda (30 page)

Maybe I should try—not here, because station consoles ration tracks. I know that from personal experience. But at home, in my room, I’ll have all the freedom I need to choose song after song until my brain shuts down. Late at night, when no one will come looking for me in time.

I don’t even know if it’s possible to do it on purpose, not unless you’re already so far gone, like my father was, that all it takes is a little push. Maybe your body fights if it’s not ready. Or your mind does.

No. The twins need me.

“Oh, good,” my tech says, walking into the room and seeing the headphones in my hands.

I put the headphones back on the console. “It wasn’t my choice,” I say. “You don’t have to believe that, but it’s true.”

Her eyes thaw slightly. She waits until the doors swish shut. “They got to you. After they caught you. All that stuff you said in the news interview about deciding to go legit was a lie.”

“Smart. You must be a med-tech or something.”

She fights a smile and turns serious. “I thought they’d kill you, or make you an Exaur. I wasn’t expecting to see you carried in here after an OD. I didn’t expect to see you working for them. So, when they brought you in, I thought maybe you’d traded somehow.”

So that’s where the surprise came from. “I did trade, just not by choice. You work for them, too.”

“Being a med-tech is all I ever wanted. So I guess I didn’t have a choice, either. It’s not all giving med-tracks to people and curing ODs.”

“What’s your code?” I ask.

“You can call me Isis.”

“Okay. You were there. The last night.”

Isis puts the tray down on a cart, like the ones we had in the
Energy Farm, and wheels my food over to me: chicken, vegetables, potatoes. My mouth waters and my stomach churns. “From the second time, actually. I’d never heard music like that,” she says. “So real.”

It was. I let myself remember it, just for a second. The studio is amazing, but it doesn’t compare. Every note there vibrates with the knowledge of what will be done to it later. “What happened to everyone?”

She briefly closes her deep-set eyes. “We escaped through the tunnels. I was terrified at the thought of what they’d do to me if they found me. We thought the guards would come after us, but they didn’t, so we just . . . ran.”

“They wanted me.” I say. “I’m glad you got out.” That’s one less death or injury I’m responsible for.

Finally, Isis smiles. Faintly, but it’s there. “Press that blue button if you need anything,” she says, backing up until the doors open and holding my gaze with her steady one. “You’re not alone,
Anthem
.”

Ell brings the band to visit in the morning. I’m really not in Two anymore. Isis slips from the room as soon as they come in, her hardened eyes lingering a moment too long on Ell.

I’m not alone
. I want to trust Isis with a spark of hope from the same fire that word, revolution, came from. But it’s pointless—sympathy for what I think doesn’t matter much if I’m not doing anything about it anymore.

Phoenix and Pixel fidget around the room for a few minutes after asking me how I am. Tired, mostly. The ache in my bones is beginning to fade, but my head is still wrapped in a strap of pressure that tightens when I think too hard. Scope hangs around for a little
while after the two of them disappear, Phoenix to touch up her makeup and Pixel to wait in the hall . . . or so he says. He wasn’t exactly subtle about checking out Isis.

Scope tells me he’s been checking on the twins when not busy with Corp stuff. It makes me want to kiss him again, and for once I’m grateful for Ell’s presence. I’ve made enough mistakes twice. I reach out to grab his hand, and he squeezes back. We’re okay.

Not once have they blamed me for Haven, even though they should. I completely freaked out on Scope for telling his boyfriend our secret, and the whole time we were being watched by the person I love. Loved.

Ell’s taking them to another party today, but I don’t have to be there. A guard will be sent to escort me home. I don’t even try to feign disappointment. I just want to see the twins again.

“How’s the track going?” I ask because I’m a masochist. I don’t remember what it’s like to not hurt somehow.

“It’s being mixed now,” she says. She glances at Scope and back at me. I give the tiniest shake of my head. “The sound techs are very impressed; everyone loves it. We will let you know when we’ve decided how we’re going to encode it.”

“Um. Great.” I’m impressed. I’ve never been that good a liar.

“We got to hear it, Anthem,” Scope says. “It’s awesome. You’ve never sounded better.”

Yeah, that’s comforting. “Cool,” I say, forcing a smile.

“We should let Anthem rest,” Ell tells Scope. “You’ll all be back in the studio tomorrow.”

I track when they leave—not heavily, but enough to take the edge off. The coda symbol on the back of my hand catches the light as I tap the console screen, and I wish chrome removal wasn’t so painful. It might be worth it anyway to get rid of this meaningless thing.

I kill time by thinking about Haven. Or the time kills me. Every expression she ever showed me plays itself out on my eyelids. I was so sure I knew her. Ghost-tears wet my hands as I remember holding her crying face in the middle of a crowd. Ell isn’t the best liar I know. She could take lessons from Haven.

Maybe she is. Haven could be in a Corp office right now, sitting in a comfortable leather chair and laughing about how she fooled all of us.

She was always so beautiful when she laughed.

Over my protests, Isis insists on bringing me lunch. I can’t look at her without thinking of what she said. I don’t believe everyone in the Web wants the Corp destroyed, but I’m sure there are more than I ever used to think. They’ll find someone else. Someone who can face trying again.

You’re not alone, Anthem
.

Maybe not, but I am trapped and broken.

The guard who comes for me is one of the ones I had before. He’s alone, and for a crazy second, I wonder if he’d take a bribe and get me a death track. Fuck knows I have the credits for it. Weakened by my OD and everything else, I’m not any kind of a threat. Isis shoos him out while I change out of this thin gown and put on the same clothes I was wearing in the studio, fresh with the scent of soap.

We’re in the elevator, my eyes on the gun over his shoulder. A
beep
carves through the thick silence. He tightens his grip on the black metal grip with one hand and takes his tablet out with the other. He curses and presses the button for a floor higher than the one we just left, daring me with his eyes to comment.

What’s the point? It won’t get me home to the twins any faster.

“Stay here,” he orders, stopping in a hallway a little different than other ones I’ve seen. Flowers sit in tall urns at even intervals. Mirrors
and paintings line black marble walls.

I hold up my hands. “Not going anywhere.” He scrutinizes me for a moment and nods. I don’t catch what’s on the other side of the door he slips through, opening it just enough for his beefy body to edge through. No sound comes from inside, but that means nothing in this place. They could be yelling, for all I know.

Okay, I lied. I step a few feet away to a space where I can lean against the wall. Whether it will be enough of an offense for him to say something depends on his mood, but I’m probably fine. I’m still a musician, after all. Preferential treatment.

I wonder what he’s doing in there. I want to get home. I put my hands in my pockets; a pang of unjustified disappointment stabs at me when I don’t find a square of chocolate in there from Alpha. Those days are over. It’s not a special gift anymore.

Down the hall, a door opens. The unexpected sound catches my ears, then my eyes a second later. Surprise turns uneasy by an instinct I don’t have time to identify. I’ve never seen Yellow Guy in a suit before. He can change out of the baggy clothes with their neon-yellow accents, but the sharp silk tie is his favorite color, perfectly hued to match the streaks in his slicked-back hair.

“Hey,” I say when he’s within a few feet of me. He looks up, and his body jerks slightly. A tight smile spreads his lips.

“Anthem.” I’m attuned to sound. The vibrato in his voice shakes alarm bells in my aching head. What’s he doing up here? “How goes it?”

“Fine,” I say slowly. He’s
nervous
. He’s surprised to see me, but not that I’m alive, with my ability to hear intact, because he’s seen me since the raid. On his own terms. He’s not angry, like Isis was, at my supposed selling out to the Corp. “You?”

His confidence falters minutely, but I’m watching for it. “I—” he
looks back the way he came, contracting pupils measuring distance. He’s the Corp sellout. It’s all over his greasy hair and pressed suit. Just like the ones I used to ride the elevator with.

Rage begins to simmer in my muscles, rapidly reaching scalding heat. The truth is clear—the first pure, ringing notes of a song that clue to the melody. “It was you,” I say flatly, through clenched teeth. “It was you the whole time.”

A humid pause settles over us. I wait for him to deny it, to say something. I wait for too long, and then . . . I’m not waiting anymore. Adrenaline replaces the strength lost by my OD and I slam him against the wall.

“You
asshole
.” I can’t breathe. “
Why
?”

“You were breaking the law,” he says thinly, grinning.

“You used Scope. You used all of us.”

His eyes glint. “Price of business, Anthem. Scope was an easy target. He knows everyone. Hell, he’s fucked everyone. I thought he’d know any gossip, but I got luckier than I imagined.”

“Your OD. Did you fake that?” My head pounds and my heart races like it did in the studio before I was carried out.

“No. Your club tracks are stronger down in Two. Wasn’t used to it. But it worked out. Totally . . . worth it.”

Air leaves my lungs in burning pants. I was right about being wrong, but in the wrong way. . . . Oh,
fuck it
. I pull one hand back, my eyes on the bridge of his reddening nose. The
snap
echoes along marble.

“You wanted me to think it was Haven,” I hiss at his falling body. “You made them arrest you, too. And not her. You made them hurt you so we wouldn’t question it when we saw you again.”

Gasping, liquid laughter. “You really made that too easy for me. I could tell you didn’t trust her, not completely.”

“Where is she?” Oh, fuck.
Haven
. “Is she alive?” Not betrayer. Betrayed. And this isn’t spitting in a guard’s face. I don’t know if her family, her name, would’ve been enough to get her out of this.

He shrugs. A mouthful of sticky red blood spatters the floor and
I think of windshields. “She’s alive. I have no idea where, though. I doubt she’d want to see you again, anyway. I made sure she knows you thought it was her.”

My insides crumble to ash. “Scope loved you. He defended you.”

“His mistake. But if it makes you feel any better, I had some help with that.”

It takes a second to figure out what he means, but when the truth comes it flashes so brightly it almost blinds me. “You son of a bitch. The tracks. That’s why he was different. You
made
him fall for you?”

“Nice try, but no, that part was all him. We just used them to keep him from questioning too much.”

I taste blood.