Renegade (23 page)

“You’re set on going to the Palace Wing, then?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he says.

“No. You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t stop me. You couldn’t even make it up the ladder by yourself. You
need
me.”

I don’t say anything. I know he thinks I’ve given up and will let him go, but I’ve already made up my mind and no amount of arguing is going to change it. I will go to the Palace Wing by myself. I’ll just have to find a way to keep him from following me, which will be easier said than done.

Despite the fact I’d told Gavin the truth—I trust Macie completely—my heart beats a little faster. It is also completely possible I don’t know her as well as I think I do.

People do things that are completely out of character for them in the name of love. And there is no doubt in my mind how much Macie loves Nick.

But we’d been friends for so long. Would her disappointment over Nick be enough for her to betray me?

Turns out I have no reason to worry because Macie is alone and waiting for us next to the grate, and she quickly ushers us into her quarters before anyone can see us. She narrows her eyes when she sees there’s more bandaging on me, but doesn’t ask.

I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The apartment is the same as every other apartment in the Residential Sector. But it’s smaller than the one we broke into in the abandoned Sector, since she’s sixteen and living on her own. If she and Nick became Coupled, they’d get a larger “family apartment.”

I sit on the couch and drink the water she offers, but Gavin is far less trusting—not that I blame him—and stops me from drinking the water until he’s had a chance to scrutinize it. He gives it back to me with a huff. Then he searches her quarters for anyone that shouldn’t be there.

Macie doesn’t stop him or go with him, and in fact appears amused when he finally settles himself next to me and reluctantly takes his own glass, studying it carefully as well.

“Don’t trust me, Surface Dweller?” she asks.

“No,” he says flatly.

“Good,” she says. “That makes two of us. I don’t trust you, either. I’m positive you’re using her and I will prove it, but for now we have to get along.” She glances at me. “For her sake, if nothing else.”

The two nod at each other and, while there is still a heavy feel to the room, the tension decreases.

When my stomach rumbles, Macie smiles at me. “Hungry?”

I nod and she lifts an eyebrow at Gavin, who sighs, but also nods. When she gets up, I realize this may be the only opportunity I have. Gavin will be upset, but there’s no other option. If I stand any chance of getting to the computer and back alive, he can’t be with me.

I stand, grateful I’m not dizzy. “I’ll help you get everything together,” I say to Macie.

She nods and leads the way to her kitchen.

Gavin stands, but I gesture for him to sit. “Please. Let me have a few minutes alone with her. I need to try and fix this. I don’t want to leave it like this.”

He sits back down. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Feeling grateful that he trusts me and guilty that I’m using it against him, I go into the kitchen. Macie is looking into the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients for sandwiches.

The minute the door closes behind me, I say, “Where’s the maintenance entry?”

Macie turns, her face scrunched up in confusion, holding two jars in her hands. “I’m sorry?”

“Your maintenance entry. Where is it?”

She slowly places the jars on the counter. “Why?”

I fight the urge to yell at her. “Because in order to get our DNA back in the computer, I need to use the tunnels,” I say.

She stares at the door to the living room as if she can see through it. “What about him? He doesn’t trust me. He’s going to think I sent you to your death or something.” The smile she’s wearing slips off her face and she pales. “I could very well be sending you off to your death.”

“I know the Palace Wing like the back of my hand. There’s no one more qualified for this than me.”

“
If
you can remember your way around,” she says.

I only stare at her.

She eyes my shoulder. “That’s not healed. It’s going to slow you down.”

I shrug, trying not to wince at the sharp pain that zigzags across my shoulders. “Not as much as you think.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but Gavin’s voice sounds from the living room.

“Everything okay in there? Do you need any help?”

Giving Macie a look, I call back through the door. “We’re fine. Just getting some hors d’ouevres put together. Macie likes to throw a party when guests come to visit.”

She forces a laugh. “I can’t help it. Guests are a rare thing for me lately.”

Gavin doesn’t respond, and I hope he hasn’t caught the strain in her voice. Either way, I need to hurry. “Macie. Please. Where’s your maintenance entrance?”

She sighs, then gestures for me to follow. She leads me back toward the bedroom and then points to a section of the wall. She presses her hand to the side near the corner and there’s a soft click. The wall swings toward us without a sound.

“Thanks,” I say as I slip through the opening.

“Wait! What do I do about your boy?” she asks with a smirk. “I can’t stay in the kitchen forever.”

I glance back at the door. “Tell him the truth. That I went to fix our problem. Just don’t show him how to get to the tunnels.”

“What if you don’t come back?”

I meet her eyes. “Then I’m asking for another favor. Please figure out a way to get him out of here. Alive.” Then I pull the door shut. And while the click is practically silent, it echoes in my head like the hammer on a gun.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

There is a need for something special. To make the Citizens better than they are. But it must be kept secret. I fear the critics will not understand if it’s revealed too soon. Meet me in your lab at 1800 to discuss it.

—
M
OTHER, IN A NOTE TO HER MOST TRUSTED SCIENTIST

These tunnels are different than the ones I used before, brighter and not as musty smelling. There are no red lights in these. Water drips off the mess of pipes and wires running along the ceiling. And this passageway is large enough that I can stand easily. It’s so tall, I’m sure even Gavin could stand easily. At the thought of Gavin, guilt tugs at me, but I ignore it. I’m doing this for both of us. I just have to hope he’ll understand.

The other difference is that these tunnels are used regularly, while the others are only used in case of a problem. Mother found the sight of dirty, grungy workers unpleasant, so she created these to keep them out of view. In essence, they are the city’s servants’ tunnels.

I tread as quietly as I can, which isn’t easy. The ground is gritty and the soles of my shoes make crunchy, scratchy noises with every step. Although I’m sure it’s not all that loud, probably no louder than a soft whisper, I’m convinced that it’s as deafening as an alarm and that Enforcers are going to pop out of the shadows at any minute.

There are no signs to guide me on my way—probably because these tunnels are used so frequently, people don’t really need a guide—so I use my instincts to lead me in the right direction. They’ve worked for me so far. Here’s hoping they don’t give up on me now.

Within ten minutes, I find myself thoroughly lost. I’ve gone down at least four flights of stairs and I quite literally don’t know if I’m coming or going. Even when I sit down and try to get my bearings, it’s useless. The tunnels all look the same and there are so many junctions, I don’t know which one to take. The heat and humidity is making it difficult to breathe, and sweat is creating sticky trails all along my skin.

I close my eyes and picture where I came from and how I got to where I am. If I’d gone the normal way, I would have had to travel southwest. But I don’t know where I am now. I don’t even know if I’m still in the Residential Sector.

Guilt blooms again when I worry about being found and what will happen to Gavin if I don’t return.

I decide to risk detection and take a peek to find out where I am.

Opening one of the doors carefully, I leave only a gap large enough to peer through. It doesn’t take me long to realize I’m near the Square and Festival is in full swing.

Apparently I’ve been heading in the right direction all along. After I close the door, I follow the tunnel until the next junction, then take it to the left, keeping straight until I hit a place where I can only go left or right. I take the left and continue down that path. When the tunnels get brighter and cleaner and cooler, I know I’ve made it to the Palace Wing. Only there would Mother care what the tunnels looked like. And that’s only because she wouldn’t want the servants tracking dirt all over the marble floors.

Since there aren’t any turrets in the Palace Wing, I feel it’s safer outside the tunnels than in them. I know my way around the Palace Wing a lot better than I know the tunnels and I can find a place to hide if need be. I step carefully into the open and breathe in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent that fills the air. Mother always insists that lavender flows through the oxygen recyclers in this area. It’s so familiar to me, it instantly calms my scorched nerves.

I glance around to get my bearings and am happy to note I am not far from Mother’s rooms, or mine for that matter. Just up a few flights of stairs and a decision to go right or left. I debate whether or not to just go to my rooms. I can do everything there that I can from Mother’s computer and no one would be the wiser.

Except that I’m sure Mother is waiting for me to do exactly that. So Mother’s rooms it is. Knowing Mother, she probably thinks I wouldn’t dare try to use her computer.

I creep down the corridors, and at first I’m concerned with the lack of life. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. Then I remember it’s Festival. Everyone should be at the Square, including Mother and Father. They’ve never missed a Festival and I’m sure they won’t miss this one. Not now that a Surface Dweller has broken in and stolen the Daughter of the People. They’ll want to present the illusion that everything is fine and just like it was before.

With that thought, I walk more confidently down the halls and up the stairs. I should be able to hear anyone coming before they can get to me.

Maybe I should stop by my rooms, I think again at the junction where I would go left for Mother’s room and right to go to mine, but while I’m more confident I can sneak in and out without being caught, I’m still fairly certain going to my room is not a good idea.

It’s only one more corner and then I’m standing at Mother’s door. I place my hand on the door to open it, but then quickly yank it back. Memories of beatings for stepping into Mother’s private quarters without permission swim in my head.

More Conditioning.

My breath hitches as my skin crawls and I’m bombarded by glimpses of other memories.

I swallow hard and take several deep, calming breaths before I’m able to push aside the terror and open the door. But even then, staring at it, I can’t force my feet to take a step in a forward direction.

The room itself is fairly large—about twice the size of my own. The walls are covered in what I know is silk wallpaperings. All except the recess in the wall to the left that houses her computer and hologram equipment.

The large, canopied bed takes up a large portion of the other wall, with two ornate nightstands on either side. The bed is made up perfectly and there is nothing left out on the desk or nightstands. Mother doesn’t tolerate any kind of sloppiness or mess.

The wall that is host to the door also boasts her vanity, complete with mirror. And like mine, hers is littered with perfume bottles. Unlike mine, however, all her bottles are beautiful, cherished treasures. There’s no sign that she actually uses them or the vanity. There are no makeup pots or tubes, and while there’s a silver brush, comb, and hand-mirror set, I’m sure they’re all for show. The only thing that seems out of place is the picture tucked into the side of the large mirror.

Directly across from me is a sliding wall made entirely of glass that leads out to a balcony with a magnificent view of the lava flows and the ocean. The balcony is where Mother usually takes her breakfast. Alone, of course.

I don’t have much time, so I force myself to take those initial steps into her room. When nothing happens, I shut the door behind me, leaving it open a crack so I can hear if anyone comes. Then I walk to her computer and boot it up.

Only the blue glow from the computer and the orange glow from the lava flows outside Mother’s window light the room. The computer immediately asks for a password. At first I panic. I have no idea what to do. One wrong move and I’ll set off a chain of events that will give me a one-way ticket to those lava flows. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to relax, then open them again, letting my instincts guide me on what to do.

But still, I barely breathe while I fight the computer.

My fingers fly over the holographic keyboard and my arm aches like a bad tooth, but I don’t dare stop. Even though I’ve never done this before, it’s like the codes and sequences are all there in my mind just waiting for me to use them. Somehow I know how to peel down each wall of security as if it’s an orange. Another lost memory? I don’t take the time to think on it. With every step I take forward to break the code, the more concerned I am the computer will tell Mother what I’m doing. Finally, just as another drop of sweat dribbles down my back, the desktop appears on the holoscreen. I cracked the password.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I do a search for the DNA files. I expect them to need passcodes as well and, when I finally find them, I’m not disappointed. I stretch my fingers and pop my knuckles. This is going to take more finesse. If I know Mother, she’s got fail-safes on them now. In case I find a way to get to them.