Resist (2 page)

I circled around to the
back of the building, where my Freedom spy should be waiting.
Together with the three Insider prisoners we’d leave this pathetic
excuse for a city behind.

I stood at the corner of a
medical kiosk, studying my watch. Seven seconds… Four…
One…

The back door opened and a
tall silhouette emerged from the building.
Click, step, click,
and the door
closed again, sealing the techtricity inside in under a
second.

I didn’t speak; I never
spoke first. Part of me wanted to tell him to hurry, but I waited
still and silent.

“
Warm tonight,” the man
said, and my blood ran cold.

That wasn’t the keyword.
Not even close.

I turned to leave but had
only taken one step before angry fingers gripped my bicep. “Well,
Zenn, have you made your choice?”

I tried to shake my arm
out of Director Myers’s death grip. I freed myself and strode away
on legs made of putty. Director Myers. Director freaking Myers. How
did he predict my every move? How did he know I’d be here tonight
of all nights? My heart battled against my ribs, sending fear and
desperation coursing through me. The only redeeming thought I had
was that at least Blaze Barque was safely hidden in that
alley.

“
I’ll match you with
Violet Schoenfeld.” The Director’s voice sliced daggers through me.
“You can be together. You and Miss Schoenfeld. I’ll make sure it
happens.”

The stillness of Freedom
pressed down on me, unnatural and terrifying.

“
I can make sure something
else happens to her too.” He spoke nonchalantly, but danger lurked
in every syllable.

“
When?” The word seared my
throat.

“
Tomorrow.”

“
What else do you want?” I
asked, because surely he wasn’t going to give me Vi and then allow
me to scurry home to report to Jag. I feared that if I made this
deal—any deal—with Director Myers that he’d exploit it for the rest
of my life. I might never be free from him.

“
I want Jag
Barque.”

“
He’s impossible to cage,”
I said. I’d lived the past two years watching him. By now, I could
predict his decisions about half the time. The other half left me
shaking my head and wondering what he was thinking.

“
Maybe,” Director Myers
said. “But you can provide me with at least some details I
need.”

“
He doesn’t tell me
everything.” I held my breath, hoping Director Myers wouldn’t hear
the half-lie in that sentence.

“
He tells you
enough.”

My back ached from
standing so straight and still. “So I turn Informant, is that
it?”

“
No, Zenn,” Director Myers
purred. “You get the girl you want. A life with everything you
want—and more. So what if you send a few e-comms every once in a
while? No one has to know.”

I didn’t respond. The
Resistance had provided me with some measure of control in my life.
Jag was my best friend. I wasn’t sure I could abandon him, and the
thought of informing on him made me queasy.

But the Director didn’t
have to know that. And he didn’t know how much—or how little—I
knew. I’d been playing both sides for years; I could do it a little
longer. The stakes felt infinitely higher. This was Vi’s life on
the line.

“
You’ll match me with
Violet Schoenfeld? She’ll be safe and protected?” I knew she had a
record. Vi didn’t like to follow rules, something I adored about
her.

“
You have my
word.”

“
Her record will be wiped
clean,” I said. “Mine too.”

“
Consider it
done.”

“
Done.” I didn’t turn and
we didn’t shake hands. I simply melted into the night.

His voice cut through the
darkness when he said, “Two minutes, Mr. Bower.”

One minute and twenty-one
seconds passed before the city of Freedom began to wail. The
whitest of white lights flashed from every doorway, every rooftop.
The sound of hoverboards filled the sky.

Alarms and sirens and
hoverboards I could dodge. I could push away the extra thirty-nine
seconds I’d been promised and didn’t get. Myers was such a liar.
What if he didn’t honor his word regarding Vi?

When the dogs started
barking, I couldn’t swallow back the fear. I had a solid mile of
ground to cover, and I sprinted full-out toward Rise Eleven and
ducked into the alley I’d emerged from twenty minutes
before.

Blaze, gone; the
teleporter ring, dark. I swore and gasped for breath. The barking
grew louder. The sirens pitched shrilly. The panic blossomed into
terror.

I wrenched the backpack
off, desperate to find something inside that would save me. Before
I could even unzip it, a girl stepped into the alley. Her eyes
shone sharp and metallic in the flashing lights. She threw
something hard at the ground and slunk back into the shadows. A
purple ring brightened the alleyway.

I didn’t wait to say
“Thank you,” or “Where’s Blaze?” or anything. I bolted into the
teleporter ring and shouted the coordinates for my dad’s lab in the
Goodgrounds.

The whole two minute,
twelve-second ride echoed with the word
traitor
.

“I don’t know,” I said, probably for the
fifth time during the interrogation. Technically, it was a
post-mission report, but since the Resistance had lost such an
important member, it felt more hostile.

“
You don’t know where the
prisoners were?” Dad asked.

“
I don’t know.”

“
Where was Blaze while you
were gone?”

“
The alley. I asked him to
stay in the alley.” A cold shock of guilt chilled me. I’d
told
him to stay. Had he
died there, waiting for me? The alley hadn’t held a footprint. Not
a speck of blood. Almost like we’d never been there.

“
You don’t know who the
girl was who helped you?”

“
I don’t know.”

And I didn’t. My dad
recorded my answers, a look of supreme doubt in his eyes. I wanted
to shake him, make him understand. I was his son; I was the one who
joined the Resistance when my older brother wouldn’t. I desperately
needed my dad to believe me.

I opened my mouth to
explain it again, but I didn’t have different words that would
work. I’d told him what had happened, right down to the detail of
that girl’s crazy-controlling eyes.

Of course, I’d left out
the bit detailing Director Myers’ offer and my agreement to feed
him information about Jag. I’d simply said the Director had been
there in place of our Freedom spy, and that I’d hightailed it out
of the area as quick as I could. Both items were true.

The only thing going for
me was the fact that Jag was away on business. He’d fillet me alive
with a simple look. I imagined him getting the news of the failed
mission, his missing and presumed dead brother. The anger in his
eyes would be replaced with anguish.

I put my head down on the
table, feeling lost. Trapped. How could I tell Jag—or anyone—about
Vi? About my crazy-intense need to protect her? That she was the
reason I’d turned Informant?

I couldn’t.

Jag would scoff; tell me
that a girl didn’t warrant backstabbing; remind me that in the
Resistance, we shouldn’t have any emotional attachments.

“
Zenn,” Dad said, his tone
soft and parental. Something squeezed inside, tightening the fist I
felt around my heart. He didn’t touch me, but his hand hovered over
my shoulder.

“
I don’t know.” I exhaled,
pushing all the air out of my lungs in an attempt to get a decent
breath. “Dad, I don’t know.” My voice cracked on the last word, but
I swallowed hard and regained my composure. I did not cry. I did
not show weakness on the job.

Dad nodded, tapped in a
note on his screen, and sat down next to me. “I’ll send word
through the proper channels. I’m sure Jag will want another
meeting.”

I was sure he would
too.

Sure enough, the summons
for the face-to-face meeting with Jag came three days later. He
must’ve left the moment he received the report and flown most of
the way. He didn’t use teleporters if he could help it. He adored
flying, but three days from Seaside set a new record.

The message contained one
word, scrawled in Jag’s messy writing on a ripped piece of
paper:
Midnight.

I left at dusk, minutes
before curfew. I walked along the tree line, one foot in the forest
and one foot out. The settlements had been swallowed by foliage,
but I picked my way through the undergrowth with ease. I’d been
here so many times before.

Instead of going to
Resistance headquarters, I went into a house on the edge of the
settlement that overlooked the border between the Goodgrounds and
the Badlands. From my spot in the attic, I saw tiny lights winking
in the distance. They reminded me that here in this house, I was
utterly alone.

I loved this house. It had
room to think. Air to breathe. Space enough for me and Vi and the
huge plans I had for our lives together. Director Myers had been
true to his word. The day after I’d returned from Freedom, Dad had
returned from work with an official envelope. My match notice. Mine
held an extra slip of paper. On that paper sat two typed words that
sealed my fate
: Your turn.

My mother had wondered at
it. Dad too, and he’d tossed me a look complete with raised
eyebrows. I’d simply thrown the paper in the recycler and folded
the official letter with mine and Violet’s name on it into the
folder under my mattress where I kept my most treasured
items.

I’d laid awake that night,
safe and secure in my own bed. I worried for Blaze. For Jag. For
what I’d done—or was about to do—to both of them.

The next day, Vi and I had
met at the lake. She skipped rocks while I gazed across the
almost-frozen water. She’d been my best friend for three years, and
the silence felt natural and comfortable.

“
My dad called us a smart
match,” I’d told her.

“
I’ll be sure to tell my
mother,” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I don’t think
she likes you much, Zenn.” She hid the pain her mother caused
behind a bright smile that melted my insides.

I forced myself to smile
back, to cover up the shame and pain with a gesture Vi would like.
She widened her smile into a grin, and any guilt I had about
leaving the Resistance dried up.

Of course, I wasn’t just
leaving the Resistance.
I’d give up
everything for her.
I was turning
Informant.
I will always choose Violet
Schoenfeld.

She’d love this house, the
excitement of being in a forbidden place, the thrill of sneaking
out at night. I promised myself I’d bring her here and we’d watch
the sun rise together.

But now, I drew a deep
breath and prepared to meet with Jag. Resistance headquarters hid
deep in the forest, almost in the heart of the Abandoned Area.
Trees grew right up to the front door and clawed through broken
slabs of concrete. Inside, a thin layer of dust obscured
everything.

I heard people talking in
the kitchen, but I bypassed them quickly. Jag sat in his office,
his legs crossed, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“
Zenn,” he said. All his
questions and accusations lived inside my name.

I couldn’t look away from
the cold fury burning in his eyes. I’d never been great at lying to
him, but I had been an Insider for a couple of years now. I knew
how to shut down my emotions. How to clear my face of any
indication that I cared. How to say exactly what someone wanted to
hear.

I related the mission for
Jag. Every detail—except where Director Myers offered me my wildest
dreams—just as I had for my dad.

“
That’s it,” Jag said.
“That’s everything?”

“
That’s everything,” I
repeated.

He scrutinized me, peeling
back layer after layer. I stood my ground in front of him, almost
daring him to challenge me again.