Epitaph Road (26 page)

“Really,” Tia said.

“Did you ever have any sleepless nights over what you've done?” I asked Rebecca Mack.

She didn't answer. She looked at Mom, like
Put a cork in this kid's mouth.

“Did you ever wonder during those sleepless nights I hope you had if there was some guy just as clever and scary-evil as you?” I said to her papery old face.

She frowned, silent. I had her attention. “There
was
,” I said.

“Wapner,” Tia said. “He killed Sunday. He aimed to kill you, too. Both of you. Me. Every female in the world.”

For the next several minutes Tia and I told Rebecca Mack and Mom the story of Formula T. We told them about Sunday, and Kate the Fratheist lab assistant, and the other female scientists, and Dr. Nuyen, and Wapner, and the fail-safe button.

It felt satisfying to watch the faces of know-it-alls become the faces of know-nothings.

We finished. The room was quiet for a long time while Rebecca Mack and Mom gathered themselves and Tia and I just hung out, empty.

“It — Formula T — is buried?” Mom said finally.

“Deep,” I said.

“
Heroes
wasn't a strong enough word,” the old lady said.

“There
ain't
no heroes,” I said.

“Brighter Day started this,” Tia said.

Rebecca Mack lifted her eyebrows. “Not without justification,” she said. “The conflict was started long before Brighter Day.”

“Brighter Day's goal was to end the conflict,” Mom said. “And the ruin.”

“It didn't work, did it,” I said to her. “Half the world murdered, the other half on some future mad scientist's shit list, Afterlight wiped out on your watch. And you're just going merrily along with the whole thing.” She looked beaten. I didn't care.

“A plot like Wapner's won't happen again,” Dr. Mack said.

“Who's going to prevent the next one?” I said. “You have some other kids you're going to send out to do your dirty work?”

“Unlike males, we learn from our mistakes,” Dr. Mack said. “But to do that, we need every piece of information we can get.” She took out a recorder, clicked it on, and set it on the corner of the desk. “I want you to tell your whole story, from the hour you left here until the hour you walked back in.”

We told our tale, parts of it for the second time. We made sure to include all the details we'd spared Sunday's mom. We emphasized how ignorant PAC had been, what would have resulted if Wapner had succeeded. Now the clock said 1:25, but I wasn't tired. Hitting Dr. Mack and Mom with a blow-by-blow description of what they'd turned loose was painful but energizing.

“So here we are,” I said finally, “waiting for the next chapter.”

“There will be no next chapter,” the old lady said.

“You need to get back to your normal lives,” Mom said.

“There's no
getting back
,” I said. “There's no
normal.
I'll be in this house until I can figure out where else to live, and then I'm gone.”

“You don't mean that, Kellen,” Mom said, acting surprised, acting like I was the irrational one. “You can't just leave.”

I returned her hurt expression with a look of my own that I hoped came off as cool and detached even though I didn't feel cool and detached. “Watch me.”

“Where would you go?”

“I have options. People who aren't mass murderers.” I expected her to react, but she just sat and stared at me. “How could you?” I added.
“How could you?”

“Paige,” Mom said. “Your father. Those are your options?”

I glared back at her. “Anywhere but here.”

“You'll throw it all away,” she said.

“Ask me if I care.”

Tia stood. She paced, ending up at my side. “We know everything,” she said. “We could expose you.” For an instant my heart fluttered anxiously, but then I decided Mack the Knife and her apprentice wouldn't take that kind of threat seriously.

And I was right. “To whom?” Rebecca Mack said. “Everyone who matters already knows.”

“Everyone who matters?”
I said.

“Why do you care about Anderson, then?” Tia said. “Why did you arrest her?”

“Ms. Anderson wasn't exactly arrested,” Mom said. “She's been detained.”

“We feel a certain level of maturity and accomplishment is needed before a person can appreciate our history,” Dr. Mack said. “And even after that, we like to be prudent with the dissemination of information. Consequently, Ms. Anderson has been suspended from her teaching position.”

“Whispers and rumors?” I said. “That's
dissemination
?”

“Our communication methods have been effective,” the old lady said. “If you two are smart — and I know you are — you won't waste your time trying to undermine them.”

I ignored that little warning, if that was what it was. I didn't want to get into a discussion of what Tia and I could or would do about getting our message out. “Have you even told Merri — Dr. Nuyen's daughter — what happened to her mom?”

“She knows her mother is dead,” Dr. Mack said. “She was informed earlier this evening. We didn't provide her with the particulars. We didn't
know
the particulars.”

“That must have been a real disappointment,” Tia said. “You're obviously ashamed of the truth. The whole truth anyway.”

“We live with shame,” Mom said. “It's part of what we do.”

“And what we
did
,” Rebecca Mack said. “But like you, we didn't have a choice.”

“Wapner and his loonies felt the same way,” I said.

Rebecca Mack didn't have a response. Mom didn't have a response. For a long moment we all stared at each other and at the walls and off into the future.

The women were unbending. The walls were closing in. The future still had some promise. I steadied my hand on Tia's shoulder and we walked out.

At the top of the stairs, Tia and I said good night. She headed to her room, I headed to mine. I had Mom's e-spond and a call to make.

I touched in Aunt Paige's number, willing to risk waking her.

She answered quickly. “I'm not ready to talk to you, Heather.”

“It's me.”

“Kellen?”

I told her yes. She responded with tears. After she calmed down, I found out where she was — an apartment (her idea, no restrictions, except some suspected surveillance) — and gave her a summary of everything that had happened since I'd left home. Even though I tried to keep it to the basics, she reacted with a million questions and more crying, especially when I told her the part about Dad — her brother — being in Seattle and planning on staying, and nearly an hour passed before the conversation began to run out of steam.

I plugged in a question. “Do you know what they did with Ms. Anderson — our history instructor?”

“I can make an educated guess. A place on the university campus called Harmony Tower. It's a formerly abandoned dorm PAC uses to detain mild dissidents. Until they're re-indoctrinated and deemed safe again anyway. I was afraid they'd send me there. But I guess they considered me mostly harmless. And in a critical job.

“I miss you so much,” she added while I thought about what she'd just told me. It was about the tenth time she'd said those words.

“Me, too,” I said.

“You have to visit me. And bring Tia.”

“I will. Soon. Maybe tomorrow, if I ever get out of bed. Do you know if people in Harmony Tower can have visitors?”

“With some constraints, I'd expect. Are you thinking about visiting her?”

“I want to.”

“Give it a try. I think the worst that can happen is that one of the watchdogs there will tell you no. But be careful. You've got some pull with your mom on your side, but you wouldn't want to end up in the place yourself under any circumstances. And you have your trials coming.”

My trials. The last thing on my mind. Something else had taken their place.

Before we said good-bye she managed to tell me once more how much she missed me and I promised once more to visit her soon.

Two thirty a.m. wasn't late if you had things on your mind. I carried them down the hall to Tia's room, expecting to have to wake her up. But she was lying in the dark with her eyes open. In the dim light from the window I saw them glistening.

She sat up as I perched myself on the edge of her bed. She smelled of shampoo and soap.

“Can't sleep?” I asked.

“Sunday's bed is so empty,” she murmured, and I took her hand. It was cold, even though the heat of a July day still hung in the room. “It all felt like a nightmare at the time, but being away from it — here — makes it seem more real.”

“We can't bring her back,” I said. “But maybe we can do something that would make us feel a little better when we go on from here.”

Even in the near-dark, I saw a question on her face and in the angle of her body. So I gave her my answer. And we talked, late.

I returned to my room with thoughts of our planning and plotting filling my head, but that would have to wait until the next day. Right now I had something else to do.

I went to my desk and touched my computer to life. I did a search, hoping. And after a couple of tries to find the right spelling combination, I located what I was looking for. NetSketch had a listing for alonebutmerri.

The profile was slim and generic and contained no photos, but I was almost sure I had the right person. So I composed a note to her.

MERRI
—
I DON
'
T KNOW WHAT EXACTLY PAC TOLD YOU
,
BUT YOUR MOM IS THE BIGGEST REASON FEMALES ON THIS PLANET HAVE A FUTURE
.
SHE
'
S A HERO
.
AND SHE GAVE ME A MESSAGE TO PASS ON TO YOU
. “
TELL MERRI I LOVE HER
,”
IS WHAT SHE SAID
.

For good measure I added
ALWAYS
, imagining that Dr. Nuyen would have wanted me to. I hadn't included much in the way of information, but if Merri felt shortchanged she could get back to me, and maybe by then I'd have thought of a way to blunt the specifics of her mom's death, even if it meant making up something less painful. For Merri. And me.

I posted the note, knowing she wouldn't read it until the next day at the earliest. But at least I'd sent it. And maybe she would respond. It would be good — mostly — to hear from her, even under the circumstances.

Finally, I headed to bed.

It was almost noon by the time Tia and I dragged ourselves out the front door. At the bottom of the porch stood two new bikes. From their handlebars hung tags, one with my name on it, one with Tia's.

Tia's bike was a single. I could almost see her mind struggling with that thought. Me? I was struggling with the thought of accepting Mom's or Rebecca Mack's or whoever's thank-you gift or bribe or whatever it was.

I didn't struggle for long. “We don't need these,” I said.

“No,” Tia said. “We don't.”

We left them standing there and continued on to the bus stop. In fifteen minutes we were at the university entrance and a campus map that showed Harmony Tower. On the map it was a different shade of green from the other structures represented — much lighter, as if it barely existed.

Five minutes later we stood in front of the building. It was a poor excuse for a tower — five or six stories of brick. The door was unlocked. Inside, the only hint that this wasn't an everyday dorm lobby was the lack of anyone hanging out except a pasty-faced guard sitting at a desk near a bank of three elevators.

Despite her official PAC uniform, she looked too young for the job, like she could have been a student herself. Maybe that was the reason she was there — to fit in on the campus scene. But she gave us an old lady's world-weary annoyed look when we approached. We just tried to look calm and unconcerned, like we belonged.