Limbo (The Last Humans Book 2) (7 page)

With a motion, she fast-forwards the video.

“This,” she says. “This is what I’ll cut out and stick in the archive.”

She resumes the video.

Fiona storms toward the exit, but before she reaches it, she turns around, gives every Council member a baleful glare, and says, “As of now, I formally resign as a member of this ruling body.”

The room comes alive with hushed murmurs and outraged whispers.

To Jeremiah, Fiona says, “Once I’m officially off the Council, I wish to Forget this latest decision… and I hope it eats a hole through the amorphous pit you call your conscience.”

Not waiting for anyone’s response, Fiona storms out of the room.

Phoe makes the Screen go blank again.

“Wow,” I subvocalize. “She quit the Council
and
told them off.”

“Yep. If I hadn’t made them Forget, it would’ve happened that way, but as is, they don’t remember her outburst. Once he sees this, Jeremiah might strongly suspect Fiona to be the person he’s looking for,” Phoe says triumphantly. “She has a strong motive. She basically told them she hates their guts. On top of that, she even said something about Forgetting.”

“Can’t she accuse him of faking this video?” I think.

“She could, but it would be reasonable for him to state that he doesn’t have the resources or capabilities to create something like that,” Phoe says, then gives me a thoughtful look. “I have to say, faking a video is a very interesting idea. It wouldn’t be much harder than manipulating Augmented Reality—”

“Okay,” I think in an effort to keep Phoe focused. “Even if everyone thought this video was real, I don’t see how it would help us.”

“Are you nuts? If Jeremiah has a suspect, he’ll stop looking for you. That aside, it’s the oldest trick in the world.” Phoe tilts her head. “We’re dividing and conquering them. While Fiona and Jeremiah fight each other, we’ll do what we need to do: the Test. The likeliest outcome of their fight will be Jeremiah reporting Fiona to the Envoy. From there, they’ll question Fiona with the Lens of Truth. The questioning will prove her to be innocent, except they might think she made herself Forget. Things will get complicated for them, which is great for us. Maybe Jeremiah will talk the Envoy into letting him question more Council members. He’s clearly itching to do that. If so, that will give us even more time. And if the Envoy relaxes enough to stop monitoring Jeremiah’s brain—which is likely—I can then deal with Jeremiah’s wish to get rid of you by using the resources I currently have. This is only a contingency on the off chance that you’re
unable
to stop the Test. If you succeed with the Test, we’ll have a ton more options.”

“I like that,” I think, mulling over her long explanation. “But what about Fiona? What will happen to her if they think she’s guilty?”

“If the Lens of Truth doesn’t clear her, you mean? I guess Jeremiah will grant her what she wanted anyway. He’ll kick her off the Council.”

“But—”

“Look, if you’re so concerned about her, I have this other idea based on something you said, but don’t worry about it for now.”

“Okay,” I think, feeling a bit less like one of those ancient lambs going to the slaughter. “Tell me your plan. How do I take this Test?”

As Phoe outlines the start of her crazy plan, I rethink my sense of relief. If I
were
a lamb, I wouldn’t be just going to the slaughter; I’d be picking a fight with a wolf right before entering the slaughterhouse.

I
walk back
to the Birth Day celebrations. It takes me some time, but I finally spot the perfect group of people for what Phoe has in mind.

There, by a tent, the Dean and a few other people who work with him are speaking with professional tennis players.

As luck would have it, there aren’t many Youths around them. That’s good. I’d rather my peers not witness what I’m about to do, since word might reach Liam and I’d have a hard time explaining this to him—or anyone else, for that matter.

I confidently stroll to the middle of the dozen or so people.

They look at me curiously.

I inhale a good amount of air into my lungs.

The Dean seems on a verge of saying hello, but he never gets the chance to speak.

As loudly as I can, I say, “Fuck. Vagina. Shit.”

The silence that follows reminds me of the calm that preluded ancient storms. Even the distant sounds of music seem muted.

“I lost a bet,” I say to the petrified Dean. “Don’t worry. I’ll make my way to the Quietude building.”

As I walk away, I say every other obscene word I can think of. I do this at a much quieter volume than my introduction, but loud enough for the Dean to hear. After a few choice words, I find it surprisingly hard to keep this up. As I get farther away, I’m convinced I’ve repeated myself at least a couple times. Still, it’s not originality that counts, but the quality of the words. On a few occasions, I cheat by combining words I already mentioned with other forbidden and even mundane words, getting pretty creative with the combinations. Phoe is laughing so hard she’s holding her stomach, but she still manages to give me a few suggestions—words the Dean will probably have to look up in an anatomy book, if he isn’t too preoccupied with his wilting ears.

What’s particularly funny, in a purely morbid sort of way, is that no one stops me as I go. They keep their distance and don’t utter a single word as I walk toward the Witch Prison of my own volition.

I assume the Dean, or one of the other Adults, gathered his wits shortly after I left, because after a few minutes, a Guard heads my way from the pentagonal prism that is my destination.

“This is going great so far,” I subvocalize as sarcastically as I can. “You sure I shouldn’t have gotten naked, covered myself with tar, and rolled around in some feathers?”

“I think it would’ve helped if you had licked the Dean’s bald head like I suggested,” Phoe says, still chuckling. “But I think even without that, we got the point across.”

I give her a chiding look, but that only adds to her merriment.

As the Guard gets closer to me, however, Phoe grows serious again.

“Remember, I’ll have a hard time getting in touch with you once you’re in the Witch Prison,” she reminds me. “I figured out how to see through the Guards’ cameras, but that’s still fairly limited—”

“And we hope the Envoy will have similar troubles,” I repeat, my mental voice a parody of hers. “Isn’t that why I’m doing this crazy stunt to begin with?”

“Even if the Envoy can see everything that happens
inside the Quietude building—which I doubt—my plan should still work, assuming the Envoy is not all-knowing and all-seeing,” Phoe says. “And if he
were
all-knowing and all-seeing, we’d be dead already. The Faraday cage of that building provides us an extra bonus, because if he
can’t
see inside, it turns a good plan into a great one.”

Since I know what the plan
is
, I can’t help but mutter some more curses, this time as a way to show my opinion on the ‘greatness’ of this so-called plan.

When I meet the Guard, he stands there, arms folded over his chest, and says nothing.

With disappointment, I note that this Guard is much too short and stocky for what we need. He’s closer to Liam’s build than mine. That means I’ll have to work with a slightly more complicated version of an already-dubious plan.

“I’ll go with you,” I say, failing to not sound belligerent. “Lead the way.”

The Guard gestures.

“I can’t believe he tried to Pacify you!” Phoe exclaims. “These people really do abuse their power.”

I stay quiet and do my best impersonation of getting Pacified. Having actually felt this when Jeremiah did it to me helps my acting.

The Guard is convinced enough by my performance to turn around and head in the direction of our intended destination.

As we walk, Phoe repeats the remaining steps of the plan. If I weren’t pretending to be Pacified, I’d be screaming obscenities again.

“Good luck,” Phoe says as we’re about to enter the Prison. “I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” I think grumpily. “I hope you’re right.”

We walk in.

Phoe doesn’t talk anymore, but I derive comfort from the knowledge that I’m not completely on my own. She got me out of here the day before yesterday.

After walking the maze-like corridors, we reach a nondescript door, and the Guard gestures.

The door to the room opens.

The Guard stands in the corridor expectantly.

I walk in, and he closes the door, locking me in.

So far so good—or at least, according to plan.

I look at the table and whistle. There are three bars of tasteless Prison Food. That means, under normal circumstances, I’d be stuck in this room for at least three days.

I walk back to the door and count to a thousand to make sure the Guard who brought me here is gone.

When I put my ear to the door and listen, I hear nothing.

A ghostly Screen appears in the air next to me.

A cursor flickers on the Screen, and a single character shows up and types the letter ‘G.’ Then the second one appears with the letter ‘O.’

I make an okay sign in case Phoe can see me and wave my hand at the door in the standard ‘open’ gesture.

The door unlocks with a loud
click
.

This first part of the plan didn’t even require Phoe’s help. All I did was use my newly acquired Elderly access.

Annoyingly, the Screen now says:
I told you so.

I shake my head and walk out of the room.

The Screen follows me. On it, Phoe types out:
Two lefts and a right.
When I make the first turn, the Screen flickers and disappears.

I walk down the next corridor, making sure to turn carefully when I reach the end.

The second left takes me down a winding corridor that looks like the one we passed when the Guard brought me in here. I could be wrong, though. All the corridors in this place look the same in their washed-out grayness.

Before I turn right, I crouch and look around the corner. My target is where he should be, and this Guard matches both my height and weight.

Great. Finally something is going my way.

The Guard is leisurely walking away from me, so all I see is his back.

This is actually good news.

The bad news is that, according to Phoe’s estimations, I have to get closer, within six feet to be precise, to execute the next part of the plan.

I enter the corridor as slowly and softly as I can. My feet are barely touching the floor.

The problem with approaching the Guard stealthily is that I’m moving at the same speed as him. If I keep this up, I’ll never catch up with him.

I take longer strides, trying my best to keep quiet.

The ghostly Screen shows up again and asks:
What’s the holdup?

I walk a few more steps and decide the distance between us should be sufficient.

As I stop, my shoes make a barely noticeable rustle against the floor.

There should be no way the Guard heard it, yet he slows his pace.

Crap.

He heard me.

“Oh well,” I think in case Phoe can hear me. “It won’t matter in a moment anyway.”

I raise my hand the way Phoe instructed me, the way the Guards do when they try to Pacify
me
. Phoe figured out that if I make my wrist flick stronger, the Pacify effect will be more intense and will nearly knock out the target.

The Guard turns around.

I repeat the gesture.

He’s too spry for someone under the effects of the Pacify.

The letters show up frantically on the Screen:
Shit. It didn’t work.

The Screen clears, then says:
They must be protected against another Elderly using Pacify on them, which was unexpected.
The Screen clears again, then in very big font:
Why are you still standing there? Abort mission and run.

“You said this was a great plan,” I think angrily at the Screen.

Run already
.

The Guard is a leap away.

I’m not sure running will be
that
effective, so I decide to improvise.

“My door just opened,” I say to him in a meek voice. “I stepped out and got lost.”

The Guard performs his own Pacify gesture at me as he reaches for the Stun Stick on his belt.

Why is he going for that Stick? Does he know Pacify didn’t work? Or did he see my attempt to Pacify him?

I slump as though I’m Pacified.

At the same time, through my half-closed eyelids, I watch his hand.

He’s still reaching for that Stick, leaving me little choice.

I have to attack the Guard.

As I mentally prepare for what I have to do, I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. I confronted a Guard inside the nightmarish vision of the IRES game.
That
fight didn’t go so well for me. I would’ve died had it not been for the in-game History Instructor driving a tractor into him, something I’m pretty sure can’t happen
now
.

The Screen shows up in the air again with a very pertinent message:
Act.

I stop thinking and become motion. As quickly as I can, I squat and sweep my right leg around, hoping to bring the Guard down to the floor.

The Guard jumps.

Fighting panic, I jump back up and prepare to rush him.

The Guard takes out his Stun Stick and fiddles with its controls. I use his momentary distraction to ram my shoulder into his midsection.

The Stun Stick falls out of his hands, but I can’t tell if it’s from pain or the kinetic energy of my impact. With his helmet on, it’s hard to tell what my opponent is feeling or where he’s looking, which puts me at a big disadvantage.

My hit didn’t slow him down much, though, because seamlessly, he slams his fist into the side of my head.

My ear explodes with burning pain.

I grit my teeth and ignore the blood pounding in my temples. I channel the anger flooding through my system into a not-so-gentlemanly maneuver I also utilized against that virtual Guard.

My leg goes up, and my foot connects with the crotch area of the Guard’s white outfit.

If the pain in my foot is any indication, the kick was strong. Had this been a soccer game, the ball would’ve flown far beyond the field.

The Guard stops.

Again, the visor makes it hard to see how I did, but I’m hoping the stop means he’s in pain.

Capitalizing on my success, I put my right foot behind the man’s ankle and push.

I’m hoping he trips and falls. When I used this trick back in kindergarten, Owen certainly fell.

The jerky motion and my foot’s odd position almost tip
me
over, but the Guard keeps his balance as though his feet are glued to the gray floor.

And just when I think things can’t get any worse, they do.

The Guard sidesteps, and before I fully understand what’s happening, my neck ends up in a chokehold between the Guard’s forearm and bicep.

Blood drains from my face.

I’ve seen this scenario in movies. It typically involves the hero sneaking up on the bad guy in an attempt to get rid of him silently. It never ends well for the bad guy.

The Guard squeezes.

I grab his arm to pry it away.

It’s like trying to pry apart welded pieces of steel.

Fighting panic, I attempt to inhale.

Nothing.

The Guard’s chokehold is preventing air from entering my lungs.