Evolution (21 page)

"Understatement of the week," Apollon
scoffs.  "We have no idea what Matt might decide to teach them. 
We could be in for some really bad surprises."

"We need to warn him," I mumble, almost to
myself.  "Make him stop."

Apollon and Jonas look at each other, and then at Jacob.

I start to shake my head yet again, but a cursory glance
from Apollon shuts me up before I even open my mouth.

"Jacob," Jonas says, taking him by the shoulder,
"you have to go back and tell Matt.  Get him to stop."

Jacob just stares at him.  But then, a moment later, he
nods.  "We have to get this back to him.  But I can't leave
Eden.  And we may as well all go back, now.  There's no point to
this.  Our mission's a bust."

His words hit me in the chest.  Is it really
over?  After everything, have I failed?  My mind hovers over the
memory of those bodies lying on the tower steps.  Not just the loss of
many lives.  The loss of our hope.

Jonas clears his throat.  "It's possible that some
of those people—whoever they were—escaped.  We can't leave here until
we've ruled that out.  The Outpost is gone unless we can find a way to
stop this."

He sounds very convincing, but I catch the glance between
him and Apollon.  Jacob doesn't.  He hesitates.  I watch him
process it all and I feel horribly guilty.  Are we really sending him back
on his own?  We're stuck inside the barrier again.  He'll have to
take the road home, and that's even worse than the wilderness.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Jacob finally
mutters.  "We're probably all dead either way."  He gives
me a grim look.  "Is it alright if I tell Matt it was you that
ordered me back, Eden?"

I quell my surprise and nod.  "Yeah," I
manage.  "Tell him I insisted."

"If it's all the same to you," Jacob says,
"I'm gonna get going then.  This place is too crowded.  I can't
breathe here.  I'd rather sleep on the road."

We have our concerns, but we let him go.  More than
anything, I think he wants to be alone to grieve.  Solemnly, we wish him
well on his journey, and he stalks away out of the bar.  I wonder if any
of us will ever see him again.  I wonder if he'll get home to Outpost
Three.  I wonder if there
is
an Outpost Three anymore.

We lapse into silence for a while, and the guilt sinks
deeper and deeper.  "Did we really need to do that?" I
mutter.  "Send him on the road alone?"

Jonas just shakes his head uncertainly.  "Well, we
can hardly take him with us.  He's not up to speed.  He'll get us
killed."

"His brother just died," I say.  "
We
just got his brother killed."

Apollon pats my back soothingly.  "Stop blaming
yourself," he says.  "Taylor wanted to do it.  He knew the
risks."

I shake my head, turn my face away.  I take a deep
breath.  I don't want to talk about this anymore.  Everything has
gone horribly wrong, and I don't know how to fix it.  I don't know what to
do now.  We could spend forever searching for people who no longer
exist.  Out of all the chances that I would find anything at the tower, I
did.  And it was ripped away from me in seconds.  Is there any way to
stop the Sentries now?  To save my friends?  I'm thinking about Matt,
and Outpost Three, and just a hand in the snow.  There's more to this than
I can stomach thinking about.  But I have to tell my friends.  They
need to know what we're up against.

Just as I'm working up to it, Jonas sees his opening with
the bartender and steps off to speak with him.  Apollon and I watch. 
He beckons us over.  When Apollon goes, I don't.  My feet won't seem
to move.  I'm so tired.

My friends are only a few steps away, but they have no
sooner moved off than some guy takes his opening.  He approaches me with a
smile and introduces himself, but I don't pay any attention to his name. 
He looks weird, with crazy spiky hair and an odd manner, but I find him
nonthreatening.  I can't even be bothered looking bored.  I mostly
just ignore him as he chatters at me.

Apollon, though, glancing back, doesn't like it.  He
materializes at my shoulder, crossing his arms, looking down on the guy, who
glances nervously up at him.

"My friend is a total badass," Apollon says,
stone-faced.

The guy hesitates, glancing from Apollon to me.

"She fights bears," Apollon says.  "With
sticks."

That's enough.  My would-be suitor retreats without so
much as a word.  Somehow I think it has more to do with Apollon's
badassishness than my own.  We look at each other, then toward
Jonas.  He's already walking back to us.

"He says there's a guy a couple of streets over we can
talk to about—"  Jonas' words fall off when he sees the look on
Apollon's face.  He glances over his shoulder toward the entrance.  A
swear word escapes his lips.  Then they both have me by the arms and we're
running for the back, bowling people over as we go.

We blast through the back door and into an alley, take a
hard left, and run for all we're worth.  We actually step on beggars in
our flight attempt.

"I take it you know those guys?" I ask as we
run.  I can hear the sounds of pursuit not that far behind us.  We've
got a lead, but I don't know if it's going to be enough.

"Grey's," Jonas supplies, panting.  That's
all he needs to say.  If anyone is on Grey's hit list, it's us.  Even
scarier… does he know what Apollon did?

I'm wondering what they're doing here, how many of them are
left alive… but I suppose Grey has a pretty big reach, and he has men in more
places than Outpost Two.  He may have representatives here to sell or buy
slaves, or make other seedy business transactions.  He may have an entire
base of operations.  Who knows?  Whatever reason, it's a bad thing
for us.  We're struggling to escape, what with the weight of our packs,
but we dare not ditch them.  The things inside might mean life or death,
more so here in this wasteland than out in the wilderness.  But I think
our pursuers are gaining.  We can't keep going like this.  And odds
are, they are better armed than we are.  We have a gun, but how many bullets
could it have left?

We barrel around a corner.  "The roof,"
Apollon gasps.  He and Jonas look at each other and put on a burst of
speed, getting ahead of me.  It gives me a second to glance upward, and
the roof line is quite high—higher than I think we can possibly reach. 
But they skid to a halt in front of me, crouching, grasping each other's hands,
and I see what they are doing.  It frightens the hell out of me, but I
leap, as expected, onto the canopy they've made with their arms.  They
catapult me upward.  I fly toward the roof, and hit it smack in the middle
with my stomach.  I claw and grapple, trying to find a handhold, and
finally do.  I cut my hand in the process, but I manage to get up.  I
ditch my pack and reach over the edge to get hold of Jonas, who is standing on
Apollon's shoulders.  I help him climb up, but then Apollon is on his own,
and it's too far down.  I'm thinking our plan has failed just as Jonas
practically tosses me headfirst off the edge.  I suppress a shriek as I
realize he still has me by the ankles.  Apollon unceremoniously scrambles
up me, and they haul me back so quickly I feel my stomach lurch.  We lay
flat, and I'm trying to catch my breath and steady the rush of dizziness from
too much blood to my head.  Heavy footsteps rush by on the pavement below
us.  We listen to them move off, and remain quiet for a long time.

When I am finally beginning to feel safe, I lift myself up
on my elbows, still laying straight between Jonas and Apollon.  I'm about
to make a comment about never having been used as a rope before, when Apollon
laughs.

"Just like old times," he says, meeting Jonas'
gaze over my shoulders.  Then he looks at me.  "Bet you never
thought you'd get an actual real-life reenactment of the story."

"You told her the story?"  Jonas
frowns.  "I'm hurt.  That's our story."

Apollon just grins.  "It's
our
story,
now."  He makes a little circling motion with his finger that groups
the three of us together.  Then he pushes himself to sitting and starts to
climb up.  “'And now gentlemen, all for one, one for all—that is our
motto, is it not?'”

Jonas and I just look at each other.  He offers me a
hand up.  I grab my pack and,  suppressing smiles, we follow
Apollon's lead, beginning to pick our way across the rooftop.

The sun is sinking and the evening has become cold. 
Wind whips across the rooftop, but we've decided we're probably safer here than
buying a room.  We've found a place where we can sink back against an
upper level wall, and we can still have a good view of the street below us.

"I know you're drawn to the tower, Eden..." Jonas
is saying, "but I really think we need to cut our losses and get out of
here.  Grey's men are going to be on the lookout for us, now, and there's
likely more of them than just the ones we ran into.”  He glances at
Apollon now, and I catch the meaning.  Jonas doesn’t know that Apollon
told me so many things.  He continues without mentioning anything of the
sort.  “We're rid of Jacob and Taylor now.  There's no reason to keep
up this ruse."

I stare across at him in the growing darkness.  I can
feel Apollon's eyes on both of us, sense his uneasiness through the way he
shifts his weight.  I open my mouth to say something, but he speaks first:

"Remember, Jonas," he says, "Miranda and
Neveah are still in the Outpost.  If we're giving up on this, we're giving
up on them, too."

Jonas' eyes dart to him.  "Let's be honest,"
he says after a brief pause.  He glances at me before he continues, but he
does not remain looking at me when he speaks.  "It doesn't really
matter what we do.  It took the Sentries what?  Was it nine
days?  To respond the first time, I mean.  We've been almost a month
just getting here.  So either they've managed to continue to fight them
off, or they haven't.  If they have, they can probably keep on doing
it.  I don't see why they couldn't.  If not, then nothing we do is
going to make a difference."

"You don't
know
," I say before Apollon can
answer, and even though my words are spoken softly, my friends must hear the
weight in them.  They both look at me, trying to read my face in the
growing darkness.  I clear my throat and push onward before I can lose the
courage.  I don't really know what to say or how to explain it, so I just
spit it out.  "There was a hand in the snow.  After the
battle.  A human hand.  It looked like... there was a flying thing
that crashed.  The person must have been on the flying thing."

Silence passes over the rooftops as though it has been
brushed on by the stroke of an unseen hand.  My friends look at me, and
look at each other, and look at me again.  I can see so many questions in
their eyes—questions I cannot answer because I, too, am asking them.

After a long time, I say, "It could have been an
erasee
,
being moved to a drop zone.  That's what Matt said."

They look at me doubtfully, shifting, swallowing down
bile.  Anger flashes across Jonas' face.  He stands up, though there
is nowhere to go.  He just turns away from us.  I know that
feeling.  I remember feeling it myself, when I first saw the hand and
thought of what it might mean.

I stand and walk to his side, the old sheets of tin creaking
underfoot.  I put my hand on his shoulder and say nothing.  He's
stiff as a board, but after a moment he softens and puts his arm around me,
drawing me nearer.  He leans in, pressing his mouth against my hair. 
I close my eyes and wonder how everything can feel so OK when it is clearly
not.

When we finally come back to sit down, Apollon throws me a
funny look.  I do my best to ignore it.  "I think—" 
I've only begun to get the words out of my mouth when we hear the rumble
approaching below us.  I fall silent and we all freeze.  It's a
motor.  It comes right up to our building.  Some sort of vehicle has
come to a halt, but the motor is still running.  There's the sound of a
door from the building across the street, and then voices.  We crouch down
low on the roof and crawl to the edge to get a look.

Below on the street, there are two men dressed in
white.  One of them wears a purple doo rag on his head—probably some symbol
of gang authority.  They are talking to a third man, who does not wear any
particularly identifying type of clothing.  He appears to be a shop
owner.  They're arguing, but the shop owner is doing so timidly, as though
he's afraid of the other two men.  After a moment we begin to understand
that he's given them some money, and they don't think that it's enough.

"Look," Jonas says, nodding to the idling
motorcycle below us.  It has a little cart attached to its side, big
enough for a second person to ride in.  "Two on the bike, one in the
cart," he whispers.

I give him a withering look.  "You want to steal a
motorcycle from a gangbanger."

Jonas smiles.  "How's he going to catch us?"

"Nonono."  I shake my head.  "
He
doesn't have to when he has three hundred friends with the exact same fashion
sense."

Apollon laughs through his nose, rolling his eyes. 
"We could get to the next city," he suggests.  He and Jonas
exchange smiles.  I'm beginning to regret throwing my lot in with these
two.

But Jonas is frowning.  "Probably not," he
mumbles.  "Maybe halfway.  Not enough aether."

I'm half relieved, but I do a double-take.  There's an
open box strapped on the back, a glass globe just peeking out.  Now it's
too much.  This might be Fate.  I pinch Jonas' arm.  "There's
an aether trap."

Apollon rolls onto his back, looking idly up at the
sky.  "It won't do us any good if we don't know how to use it,"
he says.  "Jonas and I just sell them.  Now if Miranda was
here..."

"I can do it."

They both frown at me.

"Since when?" asks Jonas.

"Since now.  I can use it, alright.  I
just... can."  I'm beginning to learn to trust my instincts. 
When I looked at that trap, I experienced the same familiar twinge that I felt
the first time I held a knife.  The first time I shot a rifle.

"...Alright," says Jonas slowly.  He looks at
Apollon.

My blonde friend shrugs.  "She is a badass."

I'm not sure when aether traps became the forte of badasses,
but I'm not going to argue with them.  This might be too good to be
true.  And though, not that long ago I wasn't prepared to leave here, the
idea is suddenly enticing.  It feels right.  I want to jump on this
moment and ride it.

The three of us look at each other.  Our grins dart
through the darkness.

"Holy shit," Apollon says.  "Let's do
this."

There is literally no time to think about our choice,
because the two guys are now beating the third, and will likely be finished
soon.  Now or never.  Either we steal this motorcycle, or possibly
stay in Minneapolis forever.  We can't escape the boundary anymore, and
the roads are dangerous.  This motorcycle might be the only way we get
through.  We all seem to reach the conclusion at the same instant. 
Apollon rushes to grab our packs and we strap them on, then drop as silently as
we can into the shadows on the pavement below.

"I drive," Apollon says under his breath, and it
makes sense, because I can't imagine him fitting in the side-cart.  I
climb on behind him, Jonas is in the cart, the motor revs and we dart off down
the street to the angry shouts of the gangbangers.  Apollon zigs and zags
as gunshots follow after us, but in less than a moment we're out of range and
headed for the south side of Minneapolis.

***

We pass through the gates without slowing, all of us keeping
our heads ducked, faces turned away from the seemingly inanimate
Sentries.  The road is a cataclysm of cracked asphalt.  The bike
launches over each chunk, jarring our teeth and spines.  Very quickly, we
seem to be out and away from civilization, but this is the road, and we all
know better than to expect the same peace we felt in the wilderness.

We drive for an hour, maybe two, without so much as seeing
another soul.  This is the lure maybe.  Bait. 
There is
nothing here.  You're safe
.  We are all scanning the darkness for
any sign of movement.  For the road bandits that prey upon travelers,
killing and stealing.  Our muscles are tense, our senses alert despite our
weariness.  We will not let down our guard.

We stop to give our bodies a rest and to fill the aether
trap.  Further away from the city, we're likely to have better luck. 
There's little aether to be had in most cities, because the excessive trapping
sucks the life from the ground, making it dead.  Here, I might actually be
able to get us some aether, if I can rig this thing right.

I fiddle with the dials.  They don't make much sense to
me, but I ignore my ignorance and go for what feels right.  I'm setting
the clamps into the ground when Jonas says, "Uh, you know if you don't do
that right..."

"I know."  I hit the go button and stand up,
but do not step back.

Jonas' fingers curl around my upper arm, just avoiding
pulling me back.  He doesn't want to offend me with his lack of confidence
in my aether trapping skills, but he's also ready to yank me to safety. 
Not that he'd have time if I screw this up.

The trap flares like it might work, but then it
hisses.  Steam pours out its sides like an impatient puff from a dragon.

Jonas, having jerked me back, gives me a guilty smile.

I whap him on the arm, then step forward to mess with the
trap again.

"It's clearly no good," Jonas says, looking off
down the road.  "You tried, Eden.  But there's no aether
here.  C'mon."

I glance back at Apollon, and he's just watching.  He
sees my look and a slow grin creeps across his face.  "Go on,
then."

I give Jonas a sly look, then kneel down again at the aether
trap.  "There's aether," I say.  "It's just deeper
than we want it to be."

He stops from a few paces away and looks back. 
"Not a good idea.  You're gonna blow us all up."

"Stand back, then," I say over my shoulder.

Now Jonas is scowling at Apollon.  "Way to
go," he mutters to his friend.  "A few weeks in the woods, and
she's caught your crazies."

"Hey," Apollon protests.  "I'm the
sensible one."

"No, I'm—"

"
I'm
the sensible one," I interrupt Jonas. 
Then I hit the go button and hope to hell that we don't die.

The aether trap charges up and starts humming.  The hum
grows to a buzz.  The buzz morphs into a rattle.  The little trap is
wobbling around on the road, clinging to the ground with its prongs, but it
sounds like the glass could break at any second.

"Uh..." says Apollon.

Jonas swears softly.

I'm holding my breath, so I don't speak at all.  The
ground beneath me rumbles.

A flare of blue light breaks the darkness as aether swims
into the trap.  The flood rushes in, a typhoon-like swirl of half-gas,
raising quickly to the top of the canister.  It hits the top and the blue
illumination surges even brighter.  Shimmer dances in the air around the
trap.

"Uh..." Apollon says again.

Jonas has never stopped swearing.

I'm thinking we might want to start running.

It stops.  The light remains brighter than normal, but
the aether stills inside, the rattling stops, and the thing has clearly shut
down as it is intended to.  I turn to my friends smiling.  "No probs."

They both narrow their eyes at me and say nothing.

I hit the clamp release and swing the trap up by its
handle.  "Let's get this puppy refueled."

Apollon finds the motorcycle's fuel tank and sets the refill
lock into position for me.

Jonas, leaning up against the bike next to me with arms
crossed, says, "What did you do?  I thought we were discount sausage
for a minute there."

"I overcharged it," I answer without
thinking.  My voice has far more confidence than I would expect.  I
glance at him, and he must see that I'm as surprised by my words as he is.

"Interesting," he says, eyeing me.

I shrug and half-smile as I tip the aether up to the
lock-chamber.  "We might need the extra.  We have a long way to
go, and we might not have a chance to get more.  Once we get to the next
city, we'll need to get around, too."

He nods, watching the half-gas swirl and begin sucking down
into the chamber.  Then he glances past me and his expression changes to
alarm.  "Company!"  He's drawing his gun.  He fires
over my shoulder at the oncoming vehicle.  It swerves, blasts past us,
screeches to a halt, spinning back to face us.

"Holy hell," Apollon yells beside me, trying to
get the aether lock to disengage.  It takes a moment for the seals to
shut.  Meanwhile, the car—if you could call it that; it's some sort of
insect-looking thing, really—speeds toward us from the opposite
direction.  As I pull the half-full aether chamber from the motorcycle, I
see the men getting ready to leap off the back.  Jonas stops firing as he
realizes the vehicle's armor plating is only making the bullets bounce
off.  He swings the gun back the other way and fires at a motorcycle
speeding toward us.  We're caught in the middle with nowhere to go.

Apollon has our motorcycle started.  "Come
on."

Jonas and I waste no time.  I climb on back and he's in
the cart.  The motorcycle peels out as Apollon guns the motor.  We
zip forward, toward the enemy motorcycle.  Jonas is still firing at
it.  It seems to be armored, too, but he hits the driver in the leg and
the bike turns sideways, skidding at high speed across the pavement.

Apollon swerves and just avoids crashing into it.

"Nice driving!" I yell.  I look over my
shoulder and the vehicle is gaining on us.  It tries to dodge around the
other motorcycle as well, clips the front wheel, and keeps coming.  Jonas
aims his gun at it but does not pull the trigger.  It's just wasting
bullets.  I can see the wheels turning in his mind, calculating, trying to
ascertain some weakness to exploit.  Another glance at the metal monster
behind us convinces me that there is none.

I become suddenly aware of the half-full aether trap
swinging in my hand.  "Can this thing go any faster?" I yell at
Apollon.