False Future (5 page)

I snatch one.

The top says
FIND THIS MAN.

The bottom says
REPORT/DELIVER HIM TO THE NEAREST INVADER
.

Well, at least they’re honest about who they are.

In the middle is a picture of a man I recognize, though I’ve never seen him before. He looks like my ex-boyfriend, Noah, who erased my memories, then died trying to protect me. Only this man is about thirty years older.

It’s Noah East—
Mr. East
—one of our creators.

“R
hys…” I begin.

“It can wait,” he barks. He heaves his clone onto the rear of the tank-car. “Grab the other one.”

I shove the paper into my jeans pocket, then pick up the dead weight of my own clone. There’s a little badge on her armor, just under the hollow of her throat. It reads M-96. I take her weapons—a sword like mine and an assault rifle that’s too futuristic-looking for this world—and then lift her onto the vehicle next to the Rhys clone.

Rhys touches the door, and it slides upward with a metallic hiss. Inside it looks like a space shuttle. “I’m going to park this thing in the garage, then take our new friends up to the apartment. Go around front and make sure no reinforcements are coming.”

He shuts the door without waiting for a response. The tank starts up with a low whine that steadily rises as he drives away. The two limp clones on the back bounce with the bumps but don’t roll off. The sight makes me laugh for some reason.

I head around the front, face hidden within my hood, hands in my pockets, as inconspicuous as I can be. Though maybe I’d blend in better if I were walking around dazed. People still seem confused after that mental announcement from the director.

From the front of the building, I watch as the Rose army keeps coming from the park. Most of them are in black scales, but some wear silver, red, or white. I watch them for a beat; none are moving toward me. So far so good.

The nearest pack comes across a group of people, who try to flee, but the Roses hold up their hands like,
It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you!
And the people stop. How are they controlling them? I open my sixth sense but feel no fear waves coming off the intruders.

The Roses surround them and shine laser pointers in their eyes, one after another. I assume it’s a scanner of some kind.
They’re searching for East.
If he’s as smart as us, he’d be wearing a disguise, and the Roses know it.

After a minute, the Roses continue on, leaving the people even more confused.

I give it another two minutes, then decide it’s safe and head inside.

Rhys already has the Roses tied to metal chairs when I get there. The Rhys clone has a badge on his uniform like the Miranda; his reads R-34. Both clones are still knocked out, chins on their chests. M-96 has a wicked purple-and-red bruise on her forehead. Behind them, Sophia is busy taping cardboard over the broken window, but the wind is barreling in, flapping the cardboard viciously.

“Good work,” Noble says as I walk inside. He guides me to the kitchen, and I let him. There is a protein shake and a ham sandwich on the counter, plus two more bottles of water. Next to the food is a huge map of Manhattan, certain neighborhoods circled with red ink. His too-small handwriting is scrawled all over the map.

“Thank you,” I say as Noble leans over the map, pen in hand. My nose is still numb from the cold. I down a bottle of water and eat half the sandwich, then approach the two Roses.

“We should let them wake up on—” Rhys begins, but my slap across M-96’s face interrupts him. “Or we could do that.”

I give R-34 a hard slap next.

M-96 wakes up first, blinking her eyes at different times like some weird doll coming to life. She swivels her head around, taking in her surroundings. “Let us go,” she says.

“Sure,” I say.

She stares at me.

“What are you doing here?” I say.

R-34 wakes with a gasp. He jerks in his bindings. Behind them, Noble has traded the pen for a shotgun. He always has our backs.

“What are you doing here?” I say again.

“Have you seen the flyer?” M-96 says. She might as well spit the words; I know how angry she feels.

“Flyer?” Noble asks.

I pull the paper from my pocket and pass it to him. Noble’s eyebrows go up when he recognizes East, and he says, “Hmm. I’ve aged better.”

“So you lock down the island to find one man?” Rhys says.

R-34 is glaring at Rhys. “You’re a traitor,” he says. “You were raised to study this world, not defend it.”

“And who are you?” M-96 spits at me. “You’re not the Miranda from Alpha. She’s dead. Blew herself up.”

“Unless you came back to life?” R-34 says, smirking.

I don’t answer.

“Interesting,” he continues, my silence all the confirmation he needs. “How much do you remember this time?”

How do they know so much about us?

Without a word, Rhys kicks R-34 in the chest. The chair tips backward and slams down. R-34 loses his breath and twists back and forth. But now he can see Sophia putting the last few pieces of tape on the window.

He laughs a kind of victory laugh as we pull him upright. The next second, as my hand is closing around his throat, I pick up the scent of roses.

“No!” I punch him in the face, but M-96 is releasing waves of her own, adding her power to his. Noble takes a step back, his face contorted with fear, though he’s conditioned himself against the energy, like the other creators.

But Sophia hasn’t. She shrieks, making my ears ring. She’s already sobbing, backpedaling, her hands going to her face, fingers curling into claws. We all scream her name— “SOPHIA!” She takes one step, two, then three. Her shoulders hit the cardboard, which bows outward. The tape groans on the window, stretching, stretching as she writhes, but she can’t twist away from the waves of terror.

Rhys lunges for her and grabs her wrist as she bursts through the cardboard. “I GOT YOU!”

I shove R-34 onto his back so hard he bounces, then leap over him to help Rhys. Sophia almost pulls Rhys through the window after her, but he claps his palm on the glass with enough grip to hold them both. Sophia is clawing at his arm, trying to slip out of his grasp, thrashing back and forth.

“Sophia, stop!” Rhys says, leaning farther out the window.

Noble and I are there in the next second. I grab Sophia’s other arm, the cold air a slap in the face, and Noble grabs Rhys from behind, anchoring him until we can pull them both back inside. Sophia keeps trying to slip free, her arms a blur, fingers scratching at our faces, until Rhys pins her arms to her sides, holding her from behind, lifting her off the ground.

I march over to R-34 and kick him in the temple hard enough to make him stop. His waves fade away, the scent of roses replaced with the scent of smoke-tinged air from outside. His eyelids flutter before going still. Sophia is still thrashing and crying.

“Stop the other one, Miranda!” Rhys shouts, craning his face away so Sophia doesn’t break his nose with the back of her head.

I straddle M-96 and choke her until the scent of roses disappears completely. Her eyes bulge and little capillaries in her cheeks and eyes burst.

“Miranda, that’s enough,” Noble says.
“Enough.”

I go a second longer, then release her. I drag her into the bathroom, which is enormous and mostly marble, then slam the door. Sophia is sobbing in the other room—breathless, choking sobs, her anguish like needles in my ears. I shove M-96 in the chest, and she falls backward until the chair hits the bathtub, leaving her tilted at a forty-five degree angle.

M-96 is breathing heavily now, staring at me with wide eyes. I guess that’s what I look like when I’m afraid.

I take Beacon off my back and settle the point in the hollow of her throat, right above her little badge.

“I’ve just been resurrected for the second time, and my feelings about that are a little complicated. Especially when I died thinking it would make a difference.”

Her eyes go even wider than before. “You
are
her.”

“Yup. And I don’t have any patience. None. Tell me what the director wants so badly from East and I won’t shove this through your throat. If you don’t…well, at least your neck is hovering over a bathtub.”

She closes her eyes and swallows once.

I’m almost surprised when she opens her mouth and starts talking. Almost.

“East possesses an item of great importance.” Her words come out in a rush, like she’s trying to finish before she has second thoughts.

I set the sword on the sink but don’t take my hand off it. “Uh-huh. Important how?”

Someone knocks on the door. “Open up, Miranda.” It’s Rhys.

“Give me a minute.” I know I should include Rhys in the interrogation, but my patience is razor thin. I press the little lock button on the doorknob.

“Please?” he says. He knocks on the door again, softly this time. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Ignoring him, I swivel back to the clone. “I said,
important how?
”

M-96 says, “I don’t know—I swear! We’re having a briefing very soon. In the Verge. Ninety minutes from now.”

“Miranda, seriously, you have to come see this,” Rhys says through the door.

“I’m coming.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “What are you talking about? I destroyed the Verge.”

She doesn’t say anything.

Rhys twists the doorknob so hard the lock button pops out. He opens the door. “You
really
need to see this.”

I think I already know what he wants to show me. “I’m not done with you,” I say to M-96. She nods rapidly, so obedient I almost want to pat her on the head. I give her restraints a final once-over; everything’s secure.

In the main room, Sophia is huddled in a blanket on the couch. Her dark skin is flushed, and tears glaze her cheeks. She jerks her chin to the broken window, where Noble is staring out.

I walk up next to him in time to see the Verge taking shape. The metal disk in the park is no longer flat. It’s telescoping upward, like a mountain rising from the earth, each level smaller in diameter than the last, until the building takes on the shape of a metallic beehive.

There is one difference from the Verge I destroyed, though. This one has a huge column at the very top, not an office. As we watch, the top of the column begins to glow red. It becomes too bright to look at. Just before I turn away, it fires a thick red beam straight up into the sky. My eyes follow the beam to the clouds, where a plane is flying over the city. The plane is just a white speck, a long gray contrail behind it. A military spy plane, if I had to guess, since air traffic has probably been grounded by now. The beam hits the plane, turning it into a ball of red light that soon becomes chunks of fiery debris. The pieces rain down around Manhattan, taking an eternity to fall, like sparks from some kind of horrific firework.

“W
e have two options,” I say. “Rhys and I can take their uniforms and go to this briefing in the Verge, or we can track down Peter and see if he’s connected with whatever armed forces are in the city.”

Secretly, I hope we don’t see Peter for a while. Much as I want him fighting by my side, I hope he’s lying low, waiting for things to settle down. Traveling alone will be a risk once enough people start to recognize the other Peters out there.

Stay safe,
I think, as hard as I can, but I’m no telepath.

We’re in the kitchen. R-34 is still passed out, and M-96 knows she’s already on two strikes. I checked on her a minute ago, and she was in the same position, watching me like a wounded animal. I’m a little disgusted she was cowed so easily.

“I think we’d better do both,” Noble replies.

“What do we do with the clones?” Rhys says.

Noble frowns, scratching his beard. “They’re not going anywhere. We can secure them further, and you’ve already illustrated what will happen if they use their powers again.”

Sophia walks over. She lets her blanket fall to the floor. “Noble and I can look for Peter. Maybe we can rendezvous somewhere tonight.”

“Look for him
where
?” I ask. “It’s not a small city.”

“We have other safe houses,” Noble says. “We’ll start there.”

“They clearly have your description,” I say. “Or else Thing One and Thing Two over here wouldn’t have freaked out. And the army is scanning anyone they come across.”

Sophia smiles, and I daresay there’s some condescension in it. “Miranda, no offense, but Noble and I learned how to stay out of sight a long time ago.”

“And we won’t be completely helpless in terms of weaponry,” Noble says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “But thank you for your concern.” He gives me a comforting, fatherly grin.

Rhys looks at me. “We should go, Mir.”

I nod. “Fine.” My heart wants to look for Peter with Noble and Sophia, but I know getting into the Verge is more important. Priority one is to find out if True Earth is really just here for East, or if they’ve come back to finish the job of killing every single human on the planet. I have a sneaking suspicion they’re not just going to take their ball and go home.

“Stay out of the subway, no matter where you have to go,” I say to Noble and Sophia. “True Earth has new monsters. Not eyeless.”

Sophia frowns. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Rhys says. “Trust me.”

I leave everyone in the kitchen and go back to the bathroom as Rhys begins to explain the spiders anyway. M-96 is staring at a spot on the floor. I put my foot on her chair and push down until it’s upright.

“Are you going to use your power?” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Say it.”

“No,” she says.

“Good.” I give her a smile. “I need your suit.”

Her upper lip curls slightly. “You’ll get me in trouble.”

“Do you really think you have a choice?” She holds still while I remove the suit from her, never freeing more than one of her limbs at a time. Underneath she wears some kind of thin jumpsuit. A muscle in her forearm begins to spasm; I can feel how badly she wants to hurt me. But she’s smarter than that.

“Tell me how the ranks work,” I say as I double-check her restraints. “What color suit means what? I want details.”

She sighs, angling her lip so it blows hair off her forehead. “At the top are the blue suits. There are thirty of them. Below that is silver, who are captains. Then comes us, the reds, the specialists. Black or white armor are for the grunts. Satisfied?”

“What’s a specialist?”

She grins. “For this mission, we control the H10.”

A chill runs up and down my spine. H9 is a kind of plastic explosive that does less exploding and more melting with anything it touches. Last summer we used lots of it to destroy the creators’ main lab in Cleveland. I’m assuming H10 is some kind of variant.

She must sense I’m about to ask more questions. “Look, just go to the briefing and you’ll find out what you’re supposed to do. We’re using it on buildings we suspect might hold East. It’s simple.”

“What does East have that you want?”

“I told you, I don’t know. We were going to find out tonight, until you attacked us.”

The audacity of that statement makes my mouth fall open—
we
attacked
them
? I mean, yes, we did, but can one really attack
invaders
? M-96 is about to laugh, but I shove her in the chest again and she slams backward onto the tub. This time the chair kicks out and she falls flat on her back.

I take the suit into Peter’s room. I know it’s his because there’s a picture of me on his nightstand. I don’t remember the picture being taken. I’m in our old kitchen, face half turned away, my hair hanging in front of my right eye. It looks like I was posing, but I wasn’t.

I shut the door behind me, then strip out of my suit. I lay it on the bed, next to M-96’s red one, then sprawl on the comforter. I can smell Peter in the pillow, and my eyes prick with tears. We agreed to talk after we saved the world. I promised him, even though I knew I was going to die. Now I’m back, and he’s not here, and I have no idea what he’ll think of it all. Am I the same person to him? Does it matter how many times I come back? It has to.

It’s wrong, but I go through Peter’s drawers. I find random clothes that aren’t folded. An old T-shirt I used to wear to bed. On his dresser, disassembled guns are lined up nice and neat, freshly oiled. In his closet are a spare scaled suit and a set of military fatigues. I consider taking the sword I find on the top shelf, since I don’t feel right using M-96’s, but I think I’ll get used to Beacon’s new hilt. We’ve been through a lot together, me and Beacon, and the blade seems whole, which is what matters.

Someone knocks on the door, and before I can say anything it opens. “Hey—Oh my God!” Rhys says, slapping a hand over his eyes.

I jump into the closet. “Most people wait for a response after knocking!”

“I’m sorry! I just— It’s getting late! And…”

“Turn around!”

He does. I creep over to the bed, then pull on the red suit of armor. It feels no different from my suit. The scales are a deep red, like half-dried blood.

“Okay,” I say.

He turns around, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see anything. I saw a little bit. Not much really at all, I would say. Hey, you were the one standing around naked like a weirdo.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s get on with it. You need to put on R-34’s suit too.”

“Yeah, um. I was about to ask you for help. I just feel weird…undressing myself.”

“Rhys. You undress yourself every day. At least I hope you do.”

“Right, but it’s me! He’s him. But me. I—please?”

I can’t help but smile. “Okay, let’s go.”

R-34 is awake when we come out of the bedroom. He sees my suit and the badge under my throat. His eyes go wide, and he grits his teeth. “Ninety-six, where are you?” he calls.

“In here,” she says from the bathroom. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Rhys said the same thing to me only a few minutes ago.

Rhys goes through the same process I did of removing R-34’s suit, and I help, keeping a firm grip on whatever limb is free at the moment. “Sorry about this, pal,” Rhys says. “Hey, what do you call that cool car of yours we stole?”

“We call them…” He doesn’t finish, as if he just remembered he’s not supposed to volunteer information.

“Do we really have to go through this every time we ask a question?” I say.

“
Thorns.
They’re called Thorns.”

Rhys and I share a look, and then we burst out laughing.

“Thorns…” I barely get it out. “Roses…”

Our laughter catches. Noble starts laughing over his maps. Sophia is giggling on the couch. R-34 is looking at the floor. I can’t stop; I can’t breathe. Tears are streaming down my face. It’s not even that funny, or funny at all, now that I think about it, but I can feel the tension coming out of me in waves.

Rhys speaks between gasps. “You guys—are so lame.”

R-34’s cheeks are red. “I didn’t come up with the name.”

Slowly, we get ourselves under control. It felt good to laugh, but now the absence of that laughter is almost painful.

“All right,” Rhys says, wiping a tear away. “So what are those jets called? Stamens?” He laughs again, but there’s no feeling behind it this time. The moment has passed.

“They have some technical name, but we call them Axes. Because they’re flat and rectangular, like an ax. Is that funny?”

Maybe, but I’m done laughing.

“And the weapons?” I say.

R-34 continues while Rhys slips into his armor. “We call the rifles RAWs—Rose Assault Weapons. They fire iridium rounds that transfer their kinetic energy to the target without going through them, essentially vaporizing the target, depending on the material. If you accidentally shoot yourself on max power, you will die.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Each RAW is coded to our armor. If you’re not wearing it, you can’t fire one.”

“Why don’t you tell them everything!” M-96 shouts from the bathroom.

“I’m trying to keep us alive!” he shouts back.

“You’re doing a good job,” I tell him.

We do a last-minute check. Rhys looks good in red. He shakes Noble’s hand, but Noble pulls him into a hug. They pat each other on the back a few times like guys do. “Got a plan?” Rhys says.

“Oh yes,” Noble replies. “I plotted a course through the city that should keep us off the main avenues. If Peter’s hiding, we’ll find him.”

Sophia hugs me again. “I’m glad you’re back. Being the only girl around here…”

“Sucks,” Rhys offers.

“Yes,” Sophia says. “Very much.” But she smiles to show it doesn’t really.

“I’m glad I’m back too,” I reply, though technically the jury is still out on that one. I guess I can’t be mad I’m alive. “You feeling okay now?”

She sniffs. “Yeah. Thanks for not letting me fall to my death. I won’t let them catch me off guard again.”

If only she could control it. I nod anyway.

Noble gives us earpieces small enough to be nearly invisible. “Touch these to activate them. Don’t use them inside the Verge, in case they’re tracking radio frequencies. After you’re out, check in with us to see what’s going on.”

“Will do,” Rhys says.

“Is there anything you can tell us about East?” I ask him.

Noble scratches his beard again. He shrugs. “I haven’t seen him in years. For what it’s worth, he…was one of the good ones. If any of us were good. I don’t know what he’s been up to, but I know he left the creators, of his own volition, sometime after I did. I’d thought they killed him, but…”

“Apparently not,” Rhys finishes.

“Apparently,” Noble says, clapping Rhys on the shoulder. “Clear eyes out there. And keep an eye on him, Miranda. Actually, use two.”

“Yes, sir,” we reply in unison.

We get into the elevator. Noble and Sophia watch us, and I can tell Sophia wants to say something to Rhys, but she only bites her lower lip, nods, and turns away. Noble’s holding the shotgun, which makes me feel better.

R-34 is watching us too. “Good luck,” he says with a smirk.

On the way down, I nudge Rhys with my elbow. “I don’t know what I’ve missed, but if you don’t tell Sophia how you feel, I will.” It’s a gamble, but I think I’m right.

Rhys is silent for ten floors. Then he sighs. “I will. When this is over, I will.” He nudges me back. “And don’t you threaten me. Sheesh, back for a few hours and already so demanding.”

All circumstances aside, it’s good to be back with Rhys.

In the garage, Rhys grabs the two RAWs from the Thorn. “Want to take the Thorn?” he says. He hands me one of the RAWs, which is long and boxy. There’s a numbered dial on the side, I’m assuming for the power of each shot. Right now it’s at five. Curious what a five does, I aim it at the far wall, tuck it up tight against my body, and pull the trigger.

The far wall
explodes
.

Chunks of rock rain down on the cars parked next to it. The depression is ten feet wide. There was no recoil, and the only sound was a loud hiss, which is strange because the bullet had to break the sound barrier to cause that much damage.

“Maybe don’t do that again,” Rhys says.

“At least now I know what it’ll do.” I turn the dial down to three. I imagine shooting an actual human body with this, and immediately regret it.

We stick the RAWs on our backs next to our blades, then walk up the ramp onto 60th Street, into a blisteringly cold afternoon. My face is instantly numb, but at least the snow has stopped. Automatically I look around for Peter, as if he’s just going to be there on the street waiting. Wishful thinking.

The street is dead now, like an empty movie set, just a few extras loitering in the distance. Only the howl of the wind to keep us company. Most people have probably found shelter by now, but it feels temporary, as if everyone is waiting to see what happens next. I look up at the windows all around us and see faces looking down. People pointing, people taking note of our presence. We need to keep moving.