Evolution (31 page)

"Holy hell," says Apollon.

Jonas curses softly.

I look where they're looking.  It's a long way off
still, but as we come around a bend in the river, the distance is revealed to
us.  That's a city if I've ever seen one, glowing like it's on fire.

Jonas glances back at me now.  His voice is always
soft, but it rings through the night.  "You're up, Eden."

The city looms ahead of us, a massive glow on both sides of
the river.

"Does it cross the river?" Jonas is asking,
sounding urgent.

Apollon is at his shoulder.  "Maybe we should make
land and walk the rest of the way."

"How do we get in without being noticed,
though?"  Jonas is shaking his head.

The lights are growing closer even as they speak.

"Jack."  I grab a cup and start scooping
water from the side of the raft, throwing it onto the fire.  Jack grabs
another cup and helps.

The boys look back at us.  "Good idea,"
Apollon says, but they're too busy strategizing to join in.

The fire hisses every time we dump a cup of water on
it.  Smoke pours into the clear night air.  The noise covers most of
the conversation.  I almost have the fire out, when, in between hisses, I
hear the lowest, softest "Oh shit."

Everyone seems to freeze at once.  I barely breathe,
though I don't know what's wrong.  My eyes go to Apollon and Jonas, and
they too are absolutely frozen.  They're looking toward the eastern
bank.  I squint into the darkness, trying to see.  There's nothing at
first.  Then, just a glint.

I choke in a breath, unable to stop myself.  Now that
I've seen it, it seems plain.  The Sentry stalks along the river bank,
tracking our course.

It's a good deal away, but that means nothing.

"Can it cross the river?" I whisper, barely daring
to let the noise out.

Now Apollon unfreezes and looks at me.  Every muscle in
my body clamps down in protest of his movement.  "It's already seen
us," he says, and he's not trying to be particularly quiet.  "So
no.  It can't.  Or we'd already be done for."

Jonas looks mildly startled, but he manages to start moving
and speaking again, too.  "Makes sense.  What the hell do we do
now?"

"Opposite bank," I say.  "Come
on."  I grab an oar and start steering toward the western bank.

All of us are on oars, guiding the raft toward the western
side of the river.  We're almost to that side, when the second metallic
shape appears in our would-be escape route.  It's close.  Maybe
twenty yards.  When I see it, I shriek, stepping back, before I can stop
myself.

Jonas, behind me, catches me and holds on for just a
second.  Maybe a second too long.  "We'll keep going. 
We're OK.  We'll just keep going."  He releases me and moves
away.

I nod, trying to catch hold of my breath, control my
fear.  We steer back toward the center of the river.  There are
barrier posts straight across the water.  We float into the perimeter of
the city whether we like it or not.  Buildings loom up around us on both
sides, behemoths reaching skyward.  They're crumbling, and crawling with
people.  Fires are scattered across the cityscape.  The stench of
humanity accosts us.  Trash floats in the river, collects on its
edges.  Something passes us, bobbing on the water's surface.  I think
it's a stick, but turns out it's a leg.

"We just keep going," Apollon says, repeating
Jonas' words as though he's reassuring himself.  His face is full of fear
and disgust.

I repeat the words in my head, too, until it becomes clear
that there is no way we are going to follow them.

There's something in the river.  Something big. 
As our raft heads toward it, I try to figure out what it is and if there is any
way around it.  It's a long, huge block slung haphazardly across the
river.  Slanted, half-submerged.  It's breaking up—the water is clearly
finding a way to move through it—but there is no way the raft is going to do
that.

"A whole freaking building!" Apollon exclaims in
disbelief.  He looks truly scared now.  It's not just one building,
though.  It's more like a whole section of city that has toppled into the river.

The Sentries are still pacing both sides of us.  On the
west bank, there are two now.

"What do we do?  How do we do this?" 
The rapid rate of my words reveals my panic.

Jonas' hand squeezes my upper arm, but his eyes are flying
all over the place, assessing the situation.

Our raft is on a collision course with the collapsed
buildings.  We all start backpedaling.

There is an explosion—a gunshot—and something whizzes by my
head.  I scream a curse, dropping my oar.

An engine revs across the water.  I whirl and see a
motorboat speeding toward us.  There are a handful of men standing on it,
aiming guns in our direction.  They let loose a burst of automatic fire.

“Pirates!” Apollon cries incredulously as all of us ditch
into the water.  There is nothing else to do.  Bullets spray the
river's surface.  But I'm down.  I'm already going under.

I flail, clawing as the water drags me along. 
Darkness.  I don't know which way is up or down, but I'm fighting to get
somewhere.  Sheer panic.  I'm tumbling, and I know I'm dead. 
The water runs in shreds between my fingers, sucking me down to the place where
everything is black.

Something snaps in me.  Instinct, maybe, or something
else.  I stop fighting.  The water around my body makes sense. 
My fingers are together.  My legs know what to do.  But I relax, feel
the way the river is pulling me, and let it take me.  I tuck into a ball,
hugging my knees in close.

My lungs are beyond the point of bursting.  I need
air.  It feels like a million years, but suddenly my body breaks the
surface.  I only have time to put my face up and take one gulp of
air.  I'm at the edge of a swift current, not far off the building. 
This is the way the water has found to get through.  It grabs hold of me,
and pulls me under at high speed.

I try to tuck inward as I see the building's face coming up
underneath the water.  There's a hole ripped in the building that maybe
started as a window.  I'm thrown toward it.  My shoulder bashes on
the edge of slimy brick.  At least it's not my head, but it hurts like
hell.  The current throws me through to the other side.  I manage to
avoid injury as I pass through the opposite wall.  I'm out, on the other
side of the building.  I curl up again, and I'm propelled toward the
surface.  When I break through, I hear the boat's motor again, but I am on
the opposite side of the building now.  The huge obstruction is shielding
me.  I swim toward the eastern bank, amazed that I somehow know how to
move myself through the water.  I crawl up onto a crumbling concrete embankment,
sputtering, coughing.  My lungs ache.  I've swallowed a lot of water,
but I'm OK.  I'm maybe a hundred yards down from the building.  I
look back, searching for Jonas, for Apollon, for Jack.  My greatest fear
is for them, not what will happen to me next.

Jack scares the hell out of me as he pops out of the water
behind me, doggy-paddling for the concrete.  I reach out and grab his arm,
haul him up.  He's shaking, stiff, wide-eyed, but he'll be OK, too.

"Jonas," I say through a ragged breath.
 "Apollon."

That's when the rapid gunshots start again.

On the top of the collapsed building, Jonas and Apollon are
making a run for it.  A spray of bullets follows hot on their heels as
they bound across the building.  Bricks and broken glass give way beneath
their feet as they run, but somehow they stay up and stay going.  They
haul toward the eastern bank.

"Come on," I say to Jack, climbing up the concrete
to run to meet them.  But we're only just up onto the bank when I see the
biggest of our problems.  Jonas and Apollon tear off into the slew of
buildings, running like hell is on their tail.  And it is.  A Sentry
is after them.

There is no thought in me now, no logic or planning. 
Only fear.  I run for all I'm worth toward the spot where my friends
disappeared into the city.  The Sentry is there before me, and I run in
after it.

The buildings are thick here, the streets narrow, full of
filth and stench.  Everything rises a mile above me, towering, making me
feel so small.  I sprint through the streets, following the Sentry. 
Far ahead, I see Jonas and Apollon fleeing.  Apollon trips on the uneven
pavement.  The Sentry is right there.  Apollon flips around,
scrambling back on his hands.  Jonas skids to a halt beyond him.  The
fear I felt before is nothing.  This is an explosion inside me. 
Flashes of Oscar's little feet, dangling in a Sentry's grip, flutter through my
mind.  I can't really see through the panic.  I reach down and scoop
up the first thing I find—a bottle.  I hurl it at the Sentry's back.

The glass shatters on the frame of the metal monster. 
It's silver claw, reaching for Apollon, pauses.  I grab something
else.  A can this time.  I fling it at the Sentry.  It makes a
pitiful 'dink', skipping off the machine's plating and onto the pavement. 
The sound of rattling metal fills the night as the can comes to a rest on the
ground.  The Sentry's head whips toward me.  Its body follows.

I start running.  I know I will never escape it, but I
will damned sure lead it as far away from Apollon and Jonas as I can before it
gets me.  I propel myself forward, my steps becoming leaps and
bounds.  I fling myself off a corner of a building and take a sharp
turn.  Run down an alley.  Faster.  Run harder.  I can't
breathe, but it doesn't matter.  Another turn.  Another.  The
steps are behind me.  I hit a narrow alleyway.  Something sharp
catches at my back.  My shirt pulls, choking me.  I fall to the
ground.  Like Apollon, I whirl onto my back, scrambling on my hands. 
I gape up at the machine that will be my end.

Its face scans my face.  Its hand, reaching for me,
stops.

I blink up at it.

It reaches for me again.  An inch or two forward,
stops.  Starts again.  Stops.

My mouth is open.  I'm completely frozen.

The machine moves and stops, moves and stops.  Is it
glitching?  There seems to be some inward battle.  Some
confusion.  Then, all at once, its fingers curl into a fist—all but
one.  That one thrusts forward, pointing beyond me.  The way it does
it is like a drunk—a staggering movement.  Or maybe like someone who is
very, very old.  Either way, the message is clear: 
Go
.

My confusion breaks.  I scramble up and sprint for the
end of the alley, not looking back.  Behind me, I can hear the false start
and stop of the machine, a battle waged inside its processors.  I need to
be gone before it comes to terms with itself.

I come flying around a corner and collide with
Apollon.  He spins me back.  Jonas is beside him.  No sign of
Jack.  There are so many questions, and so much terror written in their
eyes.

"Run," is all I can say right now.  They
follow my lead and we tear off into the night, taking every twist and turn to
get lost in this mess of city.  I bulldoze through beggars and step on a
dog.  My friends are right behind me.  We run for all we are
worth.  When I think I can't run anymore I slow to a stop in the middle of
the street, breathing hard.  Jonas and Apollon stop and walk back to me.

Hands on my knees, panting, I close my eyes.  My head
is pulsing with the shock of fear chemicals—with the inward trauma that follows
self-preservation.  I manage to calm my breathing, but I can't stop
shaking.  I'm trembling so hard I feel like I need to sit down. 
Limbs weak.  Gut churning, threatening to reject dinner.  I’m
dripping wet, cold, and still scared stiff by the possibility that the Sentry
is hunting us.

"I think we're OK," Jonas whispers, taking me by
the arm.  “But let’s get out of the street.”  His fingers are so
cold, water dripping from his hair.  I straighten up to walk with him.

"What the hell just happened?" Apollon asks at my
other side.  “The Sentry…?”

Matt
, I think.  I’m certain of it, even. 
But I say, "Miranda.  That Sentry had me, but it stopped.  Like
someone was fighting with it inside.  They're still alive, and Jacob has
made it back to them.  Miranda's figured out some way to help
us."  I hesitate, then I say what I can't help thinking. 
"I had the feeling that someone was seeing me."  It sounds
preposterous.  I'm almost embarrassed by my words.  But I mean them,
none the less.

My friends have stopped walking.  They are silent for a
long moment.

"I don't suppose there's any other explanation,"
Jonas finally murmurs.

"Holy hell," Apollon says.

Holy hell is right.  Matt’s alive.  They’re all
alive.  Now we need to get to the tower and make sure they stay that
way.  We also need to find Jack.  Get dry.  There are so many
things we need to do.

Before we can do any of them, the men with the guns arrive.

They’re around us in a heartbeat, guns aimed at our
heads.  There’s only six of them, but we’re severely out-armed and they
have the element of surprise.  Two of them have large, automatic rifles
slung against their hips.  The other four have pistols.  I’m staring
down the barrel of one.

The man behind the gun nods at Apollon and Jonas as he steps
toward me.  “Kill them,” he says.  “I think I’ll keep this one.”

I have my hands up in front of me.  No time to go for
my knife without being shot.  But the other men are shouting at Jonas and
Apollon, encircling them and herding them toward an alley.  They can’t
die.  I can’t let them die.  I won’t.

But before I can draw my knife, a little flicker of movement
catches my eye.  I watch in awe as Jack materializes out of the shadows
down the street.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out…

The nut bounces off the gunman’s skull.  He winces,
flinches.  I draw my knife and drive it into his gut as Jack comes flying
down the street with a fierce cry, and pounces on his back.

I retract my knife spin, flinging it at one of the men with
the rifles.  It sticks in the back of his neck.  He goes down.

Apollon twists and yanks a rifle away from another gunman,
rams the barrel into one of the pistol-carriers, and fires a burst.  The
man stumbles backward, blood erupting out his back.   Apollon’s elbow
comes back into the face of the man he disarmed, crunching his nose into a
bloody mess.  A slim knife plants itself in his chest.  Jonas has
thrown two of them—one at him and one at another guy with a pistol.  He
ducks under a bullet that I am sure is going to take him down, plucks my knife
from the dead man, and slashes upward across the throat of the man who fired at
him.  I’m running for the last guy, but he’s got his gun trained on
me.  I dive for the pavement as he pulls the trigger.  Another burst
joins the sound of his bullets.  I clamp my eyes shut, expecting to be
shredded, but nothing.  I look up.  The man is flat on the
pavement.  There’s just Apollon with his smoking gun, and Jonas, spattered
with blood, looking at me wild-eyed.  He wipes my knife on his pants as he
moves toward me.

I start to scrape myself up off the pavement, my hands and
knees stinging.  I can hear Jack getting to his feet behind me, too. 
Before I make it all the way up, before Jonas can reach me, there’s the sound
of squealing tires.  A slew of vehicles slide to a stop, forming a
perimeter around us.  The men pouring out of the vehicles are carrying
plenty of guns, and there’s a whole lot more of them than what we just took
out.  I look behind me, toward the corpse that Jack is climbing off of,
looking for a weapon.

Guns trained on us, a group of vicious-looking men stalk
forward while the others cover them from the perimeter.

Apollon drops the rifle and puts his hands up.  “Guys,
let’s talk about this.  Yeah?”

They stop in front of us just as I finish climbing to my
feet.  Once again, I’m staring down the barrel of a gun.

A muscular, dark-skinned man who looks far too relaxed for
the chaos at hand says “Nobody does business in Baton Rouge without my say
so.”  He glances at the pile of corpses around us.  “Looks like
you’ve
been doing some serious business.  Not OK.”

“No business,” Apollon says quickly as the men tense to
fire.  “Just defending ourselves.  We were attacked.”

The man who spoke scans his eyes over us again, taking in
our dripping clothing, the fact that there are only enough guns for the
corpses.  I can see him putting the pieces together.

“Look,” Apollon is saying, “we’re just travelling
through.  We’ve got one stop to make—just popping in to the white tower to
meet some friends—and we’re on our way out, fast.  If you could point us—”

One of the men from the perimeter calls, “Twenty seconds,
boss!”

The dark-skinned man’s eyes are narrowed, scanning between
us.  They freeze on me.  “Take them,” he says, making a
gesture.  I clamp my eyes in reflex, yet again expecting bullets to pierce
my flesh, but the guys with the guns herd us quickly toward one of the
vehicles, only using their weapons to prod us along.  We stumble forward
and get into some sort of armored truck that is big enough to hold all of us,
the boss, and four of the guys with guns.  They slam the hatch shut and
the truck squeals, tires spinning as we blast into motion.

Jonas, next to me, surreptitiously presses my knife into my
hand, giving me a sideways look.  Get ready.  I glance around at the
serious faces surrounding us.  From the front of the truck, there are
shouts.  We swerve suddenly to the left, skidding, and I’m thrown into the
metal door.  Cussing, wiping at my cheek to check for blood, I try to
right myself. The boss is just staring at me, eyeing my knife.  Truly
unnerving.  From outside, metal clangs against the truck, then a blast of
gunfire and an explosion.

“Got it,” someone shouts from up front.  “Eat shit,
robot!”  I go pale.  Sentries.

We swerve again and again.  I put my knife away in my
sheath because, at this rate, I’m going to stab someone—likely myself. 
The motor roars.  I hang on for dear life, but I’m thrown from side to
side along with everyone else.  I think I’m going to be sick if it doesn’t
stop soon.  Just when I’m sure I can’t take it anymore, we straighten out,
the engine revs, and we kick into a massive burst of speed.  I exchange
glances with Jonas and Apollon.  Jack is clinging to the floor of the
truck, frozen and wide-eyed.  Where are these guys taking us?  Should
we risk fighting them now, at high speed, or should we wait until we’ve
stopped… when there will likely be more.  I think back to the virtual army
that surrounded us only moments ago.  Then I remember the Amazons. 
Now.  It has to be now.

I meet Jonas’ gaze, my own made of iron.  I’m reaching
for my belt when we come screeching to a stop.  Thrown to the side,
tumbling.  Jonas helps scoop me up, his grip tense, communicating the need
to fight.  Even as I right myself, I reach for my knife.

But the men have thrown open the door, and their guns are
pushing my friends out.  The boss has a pistol in my face.  “Out.”

I can only obey.  I back out of the hatch, eyeing the
gun barrel as I go.  Jonas catches me as I stumble down out the door,
keeping me from falling.  I get my balance and risk a glance to the side.

We’re in the middle of the city, buildings and streets
rising all around us.  If there’s an army here, I don’t see it.  The
men with the guns are already climbing back into the truck.

The boss reads the confusion on my face.  As he backs
away from me, gun still aiming at my head, he says, “You tell them TC brought
you.  They owe me one.  Remember this.”  Then he’s in the truck,
the hatch slams, and they are gone, a cloud of dust and debris billowing behind
them.

“What the fuck?” Apollon whispers.

“What the fuck?” echoes Jack.  “What the fuck? 
What the fuck?  What the fuck?”

I’m shaking, just shaking.  I couldn’t have said it
better.  I take some deep, shuddering breaths and look around.

We’re between a close mess of buildings—some little more
than shacks and some massive skyscrapers.  Behind us, steps and an
arch.  I look up.

"Holy hell," says Apollon, seeing what I see at
the same time.

Before Jack can repeat Apollon’s words, I’m running inside
the white tower.  Jonas is right on my heels.

It's pitch black inside, so it takes a moment for my eyes to
adjust.  There's light coming from somewhere above, though.  My eyes
are drawn to the source of the light.  Above us, the building goes up and
up, an open middle reaching up to a peak.  That's where the light is
coming from—way at the top.  It flickers, warm and inviting—probably an
oil lamp.  My eyes scan back down the walls, where stairs wrap around,
level upon level.  Suddenly I’m frightened of going any further.

I feel Jonas, right behind me.  "This is the
one," I whisper.

He nods.  I sense the movement more than see it. 
I look back at him now and can just make out his face in the darkness.  He
swallows.

Behind him, Jack and Apollon are looking up at the
light.  After a moment, Apollon’s eyes move down and rest on me. 
“Shall we see if there are any more nuts?”

Jack nods eagerly.  “Nuts,” he whispers.  His
voice flits around the chamber like a ghost.

Jonas and I exchange looks.  I find the bottom of the
stairs in the darkness, and start walking up them.  My friends trail
behind me.  I take each step slowly, carefully.  All the time, I'm
looking up.  My hand slides along the smooth stone railing.  There
are levels and levels of stairs.  I'm filled with urgency to find their
end, but torn between that and a longing to hold onto what I am right
now.  My feet keep an even pace, sensing the weight of every step toward
the end of this journey.  So this is where Fate chooses to spit us out. 
After everything—if I believe anything—I cannot argue that this tower—this is
it.

***

At the top of the steps, there is a murmur of voices. 
They break off as our footsteps approach.  There's a rustle of
movement.  I make the top platform and step into the lantern's
light.  It's a small, round room, washed in cream paint.  There's a
door on the opposite side.  Between me and that door is a roomful of
people.  All of them stare at me in silence.

The moment is heavy.  I know the look in their eyes
now—the recognition.  One of them—a woman—steps forward and tries to
speak, but falters.  She can't seem to get the words out.

I smile.  "Let me guess.  I shouldn't be
afraid.  I've found what I'm looking for."

A nervous look flies around the room from one face to
another, some with smiles or half-smiles, some with wide eyes.  They all
seem to be unable to speak, or move, or act.  I know how they feel.

Finally, the woman chokes out, in little more than a
whisper, "Spec."  The boy next to her flies through the door on
the opposite side of the room.  His footsteps are the only sound, pounding
up what must be more stairs, just like the tower in Damoynz.  Behind me is
the slight rustle of Apollon and Jonas shifting on the landing.  They're
still hanging back in the shadows, and Jack is on the steps below them.  I
hear him cough once, probably still bringing up river water.

I let my eyes scan the people in the room—there's at least
fifteen of them, maybe twenty.  Mostly men, two women.  One of the
girls is a teen, and some of the boys are, too.  But most of the men are
at least in their twenties, and they all look fierce.  They're armed, full
of muscles.  But I'm not afraid.  No one moves or speaks. 
They're frozen by surprise, and beyond that, we're clearly waiting for
something.  In only seconds, it arrives.

There is the sound of feet running down the stairs, heavy,
taking them two or three at a time.  A male voice, strangled, full of fear
and hope.  "Lily?" it calls, before its owner makes it through
the doorway.  There is a desperate quality embedded in the tone. 
"Lily?"

Behind me, very quietly, Apollon's voice: 
"...What?"

The owner of the footsteps bursts through the opposite door
and stops abruptly on the threshold, his eyes wide and searching.  He's
blonde—whiter blonde than Apollon—tall and muscular, probably my age.  His
eyes are the lightest of blue, and shiny with unshed tears.  He sees
me.  Shock runs through his whole body.

That's when the movement comes from behind me—my friends are
not comfortable with this turn of events.  The man looks past me, at them,
and his face drains of color.  I'm afraid, for an instant, that he's going
to pass out.  He steps forward suddenly and brushes by me as if I don't
exist.  The look on his face is the strangest mixture of awe, joy,
disbelief, and pain.  There's something else in that mix, too. 
Something out of place.  Disappointment?

"Jason," he whispers.  He throws his arms
around Jonas, embracing him, holding on to him.  If there was any
hesitancy to this reunion, it has fled.

Jonas tentatively returns the embrace.  He's as shocked
as I am, but he goes with it.

The man eventually steps back, holding the sides of Jonas'
face.  They look into each other's eyes.  The man wears a broad smile
and sadness.  He laughs.  There is a tear on his cheek.  He's
wading through rapture and grief.

Movement behind them brings my attention to Apollon, who is
staring at them, at me, at them, open-mouthed.  His face is written with
confusion.  With questions and uncertainty.  I have a lot to explain
to him, and no chance to do it.  The best I can offer is a regretful
glance.  He looks stricken.

The newcomer takes Jonas' hand in his, and, turning back to
the others, raises it high above their heads.  "Jason." 
Only now do his eyes flick to me.  Briefly.  Uncertainly.

"Jason," the others murmur, at first clearly
stunned.  They say it again.  "Jason."  In an instant
it grows into a chant.  "Ja-son.  Ja-son.  Ja-son."

Then somehow, my name is in the mix.  It's
"Jason.  Lily.  Jason.  Lily."  We're being
pushed together.  Someone places my hand in his.

Jonas takes all this in stride, only giving me the briefest
glance of uncertainty.  He raises our hands over our heads, smiling,
meeting all their eyes.  The room is full of people who are entwined in our
presence.  Their chant grows in strength and enthusiasm, broken only by
cheering.  Then cheering becomes celebration.  They fall on us with
the warmest of greetings.  And just like that, it would seem we're king
and queen of the world.

I am probably the only one who notices Jonas catching
Apollon's gaze from across the room, and certainly the only one who understands
enough to interpret his look as apologetic.  Apollon just looks
away.  He looks like he's going to be sick.