The Variables (40 page)

Lucy nodded. “Yes. I do.”

“So...here you are, and you can do anything you want. What’s
your
dream? Huck comes to you and says that you have earned a right to whatever your heart desires. What do
you
want?”

“I want Grant...”

“No,” Maxine wagged her finger. “Grant or no Grant, that is not an answer. Grant is not your dream. No
boy
is the dream, Lucy. I’ve never taught you that...you didn’t get that from me.”

Lucy closed her eyes and thought of where her life was going before the Release. She was going to college. She had already decided she would go to the University of Oregon like her parents. From there, she had no plan. She didn’t have a plan before, and she didn’t have a plan now. However, unlike before, she didn’t think she could just sit back and watch the world unfold around her. Something stirred in her. A call to action.

“Anything,” her mother prodded from across the table.

“I don’t know--”

“I’ll count and you just shout out the first thing that comes to your mind.”

“I can’t do it that way—”

“One, two...”

Lucy opened her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t—”

“Three!”

“Darla.”

Maxine looked her, perplexed. “What?” she laughed.

“I want to be a financial advisor who can shoot a gun and raise a child and care about strangers and take charge without being so afraid all the time.”

“You’re afraid?”

“All the time,” Lucy whispered. “Remember when Grandma used to say that the bears were trying to poison her?”

The phrase stunned her mother and she held her breath. The resurrection of that memory temporarily halted her. “Yes,” she replied. “I do remember that.”

“Bears are trying to poison me.”

“That’s absurd,” Maxine replied.

“This is an absurd life. Maybe that’s just what I want you to see...”

“Financial advisor?” Maxine said, changing the subject. She latched on to the least important piece of Lucy’s future occupation list. “Lucy, you picked a few things that don’t really apply here.”

“You said anything,” Lucy reminded her.

“I did,” Maxine replied. She laughed, but it died away quickly. “And you picked
Darla
. That girl from back in Oregon? Teddy’s mom?”

Lucy looked down at the table. She ran her finger over the lace pattern. “Whenever I walk around Kymberlin, I think of all the people who will never get to see this place,” Lucy said without looking up. “It’s beautiful and amazing...and it makes me sad. Why does one man get to pick who lives and who dies? Why am I here, but others aren’t? Doesn’t it make you sad?”

Maxine looked at her daughter and picked up her cup again. She leaned against the back of the cream-colored settee. “Yes,” her mother answered. “But someday you will realize that there is no perfect place or perfect leader or perfect decision. There is only the steady accumulation of choices. This or that. Down that road, up that one. And we are here...and it was a decision that was made for us, yes. But don’t pretend that we don’t have a choice about where we go from here. You can choose to be afraid and let your mind live in paranoia. Or you can choose to find a place for yourself here. Many of these people were brought into Huck’s world
against
their will, too. We are survivors and we must align ourselves as a family. I am choosing to accept my life on Kymberlin...to live under the protection of your father. You can see that as a weakness, my dear one, but that’s still my choice and that’s for me to own. It’s my own weakness for me alone to carry. And I can live with it.” Her mother crossed a single arm over her body and stared at her across the table. “Lucy, I love you. And at the end of the day here, that’s the only thing you need to know.”

The small bell above the Tea Room door jingled and Lucy looked up. Cass walked in and pushed the door open, and scanned the room. When she saw Lucy and Maxine, she rushed over with a hand on her heart.

“Goodness,” she said. “You are hard to find today. Impossible, really.”

“Cass—” Lucy said and she didn’t know if she was supposed to stand or stay seated. They hadn’t spoken a word since Cass had accused her of being a drama queen and shut the door in her face. They had given each other a wide berth and Lucy couldn’t hide her surprise. “We’re on a mother-daughter date...”

“How did you find us? This place is huge,” Maxine said, shifting in her chair to see Cass fully.

Cass hesitated and then pointed to a small camera in the corner of the Tea Room. Lucy hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was: stuck next to a floating potted plant. “My father helped me...I...he told me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I had to find you because I just heard the most amazing news. Grant isn’t going to Copia today. I don’t know the details, but my dad told me that he and Blair are coming back
here
. To Kymberlin.”

“What?” Lucy set down her mug. “When?”

“He’ll be here soon, I think. But I don’t know...I couldn’t tell if they just called or called hours ago. My father was vague,” Cass said and she clapped her hands together. “But I thought you’d want to know...to greet him...”

“Thank you,” Lucy said and she wiggled out of her chair and stood up and gave Cass a hug.

Cass leaned close and whispered into her ear, “I don’t think I’m supposed to know...or you, too. So, maybe...” she put her finger to her lips.

“Of course,” Lucy said quickly. She hopped up and down and couldn’t help but grin. “I can’t believe it!”

“Okay, okay...au revoir, my friends. Continue the adorableness of your date. I’ll let you finish up.” Cass spun and exited the Tea Room, the bell jingled again after her. Lucy looked at the door and tried to wave goodbye, but Cass was too quick, and the door was already closing. She then turned to sit. Her mother had pushed the tea to the center of the table and was standing up.
 

“Wait,” Lucy said and she went back to her chair and started to sit down. “We don’t have to be done. I’m sure I have some time...”

Maxine reached out and grabbed Lucy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay, Lucy. I’ve said all I needed to say. Go wait for Grant. I wouldn’t ever stand in the way of that. It’s true love, after all. Go be in love. Go to him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“You will let me say everything, do everything, organize everything. Put your gun away and follow me,” Blair instructed to her motley band of stowaways.

“You have a plan then?” Darla asked, turning on the safety and tucking her gun into her pants.

“No,” Blair said and she stormed ahead of them. They crashed through the long grass and down a small embankment and arrived at the makeshift runway. The solar panels for the System were no longer running; the panels now faced toward the dirt, the automated hum from before notably absent.

Darla followed right behind Blair as they climbed up the steps to the small passenger plane. Frank bounded up the steps after her, and Dean, Grant, and Ainsley followed behind in silence. Grant looked around the plane; several of the seats were already filled with the bags from the guards inside the EUS. They had brought their things to the plane early in an effort to expedite an escape after slaughtering the Copia residents. Such meticulous planning had gone into the ruse, and Grant couldn’t help but think of Dylan’s face that morning. Allowing Grant to tag along at breakfast wasn’t out of kindness: it had been out of pity.

He wished he could ask his friend how he could spend time with him, playing cards, talking into the wee hours of the morning, all the while knowing that there were orders to kill him. How was it possible to be so callous? Grant felt sick to his stomach. He had thought they were his friends.

The pilot of the plane, a middle-aged man in a white button down shirt, was sleeping in first class. His mouth was open and a thin stream of drool slid down to his chin. Blair stood over him, her clothes streaked with dirt, her blonde hair tangled around her shoulders. She watched his chest rise and fall, and then turned to the rest of the group, a resolute look cemented on her face. Here was the man who would take them away from Brixton and into the belly of the beast. Everything hinged on his cooperation, and they could all see fear and confusion on Blair’s face—she had no idea what to do next.

“Wake him,” Darla commanded.

Blair glared at Darla and put her hands on her hips. “You already forgot the rules,” Blair said. “What if he refuses? What if he calls my father and tells him that we’re arriving with three additional survivors. You have no contingency plan? Are you prepared to shoot him and fly this plane yourself? And then...” she raised her eyebrows, “how do you expect to handle his disappearance? I told you to let me say everything, do everything. Everything.”

“Fine,” Darla said. She leaned back against one of the leather seats in first class and crossed her arms. “I’m preparing myself to be wowed by your
everything
.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“Then don’t be incompetent.” Darla pointed to the snoring pilot and then to her wrist, tapping it methodically over a non-existent watch.

Grant took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly; the arid climate of Nebraska hurt his lungs. He never knew how much he could miss fresh oxygen. Even when the System tried to pump in its filtrated air, it wasn’t the same, and Grant would long for sun and wind and open places. He’d dream of running free along the tall grass. Maybe just running all the way back to Portland.

He watched Blair as she leaned down over the captain and kicked the bottom of his black shiny shoes with her heels, which were still caked with Private Ryley’s dried blood. Kicking his shoes proved futile, so she moved to jostling his shoulder; the pilot snorted and then jolted awake, his eyes scanning the faces peering down at him.

“Afternoon, Hank,” Blair said when his eyes focused on her. He sat up straight against the leather seatback and took in the scene: a dubious group of dirty, smelly, bloodied passengers. “I need to discuss a change in plans.” Then she looked around her and turned back to him before he could answer. “Alone.”

Hank assessed Blair and then everyone else; he scrunched up his face and tried to ascertain if he was supposed to know the people on his plane. After a second, he said, “You lead the way, boss,” and he stretched upward and slid out of the seat, without much acknowledgment to the others. He motioned to the back part of the cabin and they went that way together, Blair pulling the curtain between first class and the remainder of the plane closed as she walked by—it zipped along the metal rod like an exclamation point.

The group waited and attempted to eavesdrop, but they were too far back to make out any discernable words. Darla stood at attention near the curtain and scrutinized the weary faces in front of her.

“He doesn’t have to take us anywhere,” Ainsley said. “Wouldn’t he have, like, allegiances?”

“He’s a pilot, not a soldier,” Dean added.

“Well, what’s preventing him from taking the whole plane down somewhere in rural New York?” Ainsley added. “I don’t like this. I’d rather drive.”

Darla stole a peek behind the curtain and then motioned for the group to quiet down. “This gets us there faster and with authority," she said.
 

“Darla’s right...you don’t have another choice,” Grant added. Everyone turned to look at him. “You don’t know these people...but if anyone thinks you exist, they are going to work exceptionally hard to make sure that you don’t. Huck Truman doesn’t like his plans to backfire. He takes it personally.”

“It’s a Truman quality,” said a voice. The curtain ripped open and Blair stood inches from Darla, with Hank by her side. She looked over to Grant and stared at him for a long time, evaluating his presence, and when her focus broke, she cleared her throat and pointed to the pilot. “Well, it’s our lucky day.”

“Oh, yeah?” Darla tried to sound nonplussed.

“Hank will land us right on target at Old Orchard Beach. Once you are all safely hidden, we’ll call for the chopper to take me and Grant to Kymberlin, our home.”

“What does Hank get out of this?” Darla asked.

Ainsley took a step forward, too. “Why should we trust that he isn’t going to go running to the authorities the moment we land?”

Blair’s head spun to Ainsley and she flashed her a look of warning. Then she looked to Darla, “Discussion of
payment
isn’t necessary. Hank is helping us, and he’ll be properly compensated. That’s all you need to know.”

“Jesus,” Darla breathed. When she looked at Blair, she caught the cautioning glare, too. “Look—”

But Blair interrupted. When she spoke, her voice was wavering, hovering just above a whisper, threatening to break. “No.
You
look.
I
saved you from the System, and
I’ve
secured safe passage. And soon,” she paused and looked to the ground, “I’ll help you reconnect with your son.” She paused, as if the words burned her tongue. Then she swallowed, and met Darla’s eyes. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know about me or my family. But you have to trust me, because you don’t have any other choice. I know that. But it’s true. You don’t.”

“You can trust her,” Grant said, sensing the tension, before Darla could reply. “I trust her,” he added, catching Blair’s eye.

Blair looked away. To the ground, she mumbled, “Thank you.” Then she slid past them and into the cockpit, and the pilot followed after her.

Before Hank shut the door, he turned to the group and cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you all...and I mean it...but here’s the deal. Short runway. Lots of speed and altitude fast. Better sit down and buckle up. This isn’t your average takeoff.”
 

Hank had called it. They propelled through the air at breakneck speeds before reaching cruising altitude. The group had scattered around the small plane: Grant and Dean sat in the back, sitting next to each other but not talking. Occasionally, Dean would reach over and mess up Grant’s hair and smile. As a reply, Grant would smooth it back in place and smile back.

Ainsley flipped through a dated inflight magazine with deliberate and apathetic flicks of the wrist before falling asleep stretched along a row of seats.