Anden stares at him for a long moment. Is he thinking about what his father would say in a situation like this? Is he wondering whether he’s as good a leader to his people? Finally, Anden bows his head. Graceful, even in humility. “I’m open to discussion,” he says quietly.
The President nods once. I can see the small smile at the corners of his lips. “Then we’ll discuss,” he replies. “If you find a cure to this virus, and if we agree to the land, then I promise you military support. Until then, the world will have to deal with this as we do with any pandemic.”
“And what do you mean by that, sir?” Anden asks.
“We will need to seal your ports and borders, as well as the Colonies’. Other nations will need to be notified. I’m sure you understand.”
Anden’s silent. I hope the President doesn’t see the stricken look on my face. The entire Republic is going to be quarantined.
JUNE’S LEFT FOR ANTARCTICA. EDEN’S GONE TO LOS ANGELES with the second wave of evacuees. The rest of us stay down in this bunker, listening as the Colonies’ assault continues. This time the fighting sounds worse. Sometimes the earth trembles so much that fine dust rains down on us from the underground bunker’s ceiling, coating lines of evacuees with gray ash as they hurry onto the waiting trains. Rotating lights over the tunnel paint us all in flashes of red. I wonder how other bunkers across the city are holding up. The evacuations grow more urgent as each train leaves on the hour and is replaced by a new one. Who knows how long this tunnel will stay stable. Now and then I see soldiers shoving civilians back into line when they get unruly. “Single file!” they bark out, hoisting their guns threateningly. Their faces are hidden behind riot masks that I know all too damn well. “Dissidents will be left behind, no questions asked. Move along, people!”
I stay at one end of the bunker as the dust continues to rain down, huddled with Pascao, Tess, and the other remaining Patriots. At first a few soldiers tried to hustle me onto one of the trains, but they left me alone after I lashed out at them with a string of curses. Now they ignore me. I watch people load onto the train for a few seconds before I return to my conversation with Pascao. Tess sits beside me, although the unspoken tension between us makes her feel much farther away. My ever-present headache pounds a dull rhythm against the back of my head.
“You saw more of the city than I did,” I whisper to Pascao. “How do you think the Armor is holding up?”
“Not great,” Pascao responds. “In fact, with another country helping the Colonies, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Armor breaks down in a matter of days with this kind of assault. It’s not gonna hold for long, trust me.”
I turn to see how many people are still waiting to board the trains. “How should we go about throwing the Colonies some curve balls?”
Another voice pipes up. It’s one of the Hackers, Frankie, the girl with the wounded shoulder. “If we can get our hands on a few electrobombs,” she says in a thoughtful voice, “I can probably rewire them to scramble some of the Colonies’ weapons or something. We might be able to throw their jets off too.”
Jets. That’s right—Anden had mentioned the Colonies jets parked on a makeshift airfield outside the Armor’s walls. “I can get my hands on some,” I whisper. “And some grenades too.”
Pascao clicks his tongue in excitement. “So we get to have fun with nitroglycerine in your plan? You get on that, then.” He turns to address Baxter, who shoots me a cranky glare. His ear looks as mangled as ever. “Hey, Baxter boy. Back up Gioro and Frankie, make sure you give them cover while they’re working their magic.”
“Pascao,” I say quietly. “You up for some decoy work?”
He laughs. “It’s what Runners are best at, yeah?”
“Let’s play with them a little—I want you to be my double while I’m heading toward their makeshift airfield.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Good.” Despite the grimness of the situation, I smile. A note of haughtiness creeps into my voice. “This night’ll end with a bunch of expensive, useless military machines.”
“You’re out of your mind, blinder boy,” Baxter snaps at me. “The Republic itself can’t even keep the Colonies out—you think our little group stands a chance at beating them?”
“We don’t need to beat them. All we need to do is stall them. And I’m pretty sure we’re good at that.”
Baxter lets out a loud snort of irritation—but Pascao’s grin grows wider. Next to me, Tess shifts uncomfortably. She’s probably thinking back on my past crimes, how she’d had to witness them all and how she’d had to bandage me up after every single one. Maybe she’s worried about me. Or maybe she’s glad. Maybe she’d rather me not be here at all. But she had come back here because of me. That’s what she said, isn’t it? She must still care, at least on some level. I try to think of the right thing to say to her to fill this awkward silence, but instead I question the others. “You told me back in the room that you guys came back here because you wanted to be pardoned. But you could’ve tried escaping to a country other than the Republic, yeah? You wouldn’t even have to help the Republic out. Anden—the Elector, that is—he would’ve pardoned you all anyway.” My eyes fall on Pascao. “You knew that, didn’t you? Why’d you all really come back here? I know it’s not just because you heard my plea.”
Pascao’s grin fades, and for a moment he actually looks serious. He sighs, then gazes around at our little group. It’s hard to believe they used to be a part of something so much larger. “We’re the Patriots, right?” he finally says. “We’re supposed to be committed to seeing the United States return in some way or other. With the way things seem to be in the Colonies, I don’t know if they’d be the right ones to bring that kinda change about. But I gotta admit, the new Republic Elector has potential, and after what Razor pulled on us, even I think Anden might be the answer we’ve been waiting for.” Pascao pauses to nod at Baxter, who just shrugs. “Even Baxter boy here thinks so.”
I frown. “So you guys came back here because you genuinely want to help the Republic win this war? You seriously want to help us defend ourselves?” Pascao nods again. “Why didn’t you say that back in the room? Would’ve sounded pretty noble.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Pascao shakes his head. “They wouldn’t have believed us. The Patriots, the terrorists who used to blow up Republic soldiers every chance they got? Yeah, right. I figured it’d be better for us if we played the pardon card instead. It’d seem like a more realistic answer for your Elector and your little Princeps-Elect.”
I stay silent. When Pascao sees me hesitate, he dusts off his hands and stands up. “Let’s get started,” he says to me. “No time to waste, not with this hailstorm happening upstairs.” He motions for the other Patriots to gather around and starts divvying up their individual tasks. I rise to a crouch.
Tess takes a deep breath, and when she catches my gaze again, she speaks to me for the first time since being in the room together. “I’m sorry, Day.” She says it softly, so that the others can’t hear.
I freeze where I am, resting my elbows on my crouched legs. “Why?” I reply. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Yes, I do.” Tess looks away. How did she grow up so quickly? She’s still thin, still delicate, but her eyes belong to someone older than I remember. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind, and I didn’t mean to blame June for everything. I don’t really believe she’s bad. I never really believed that. I was just so . . . angry.”
Her face pulls me to her like it always does, the way it did all the way back when I first saw her digging around in that dumpster. I wish I could hug her, but I sit back and wait, letting her make the call. “Tess . . . ,” I say slowly, trying to figure out the best way to express what I’m feeling. Hell, I’ve said so many stupid things to her in the past. “I love you. No matter what happens between us.”
Tess wraps her arms around her knees. “I know.”
I swallow hard and look down. “But I don’t love you the way you want me to. I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression. I don’t think I’ve ever treated you as well as you deserve.” My heart twists painfully as the words leave my mouth, striking her as they go. “So don’t be sorry. It’s my fault, not yours.”
Tess shakes her head. “I know you don’t love me that way. Don’t you think I know that by now?” A note of bitterness enters her voice. “But you don’t know how I feel about you. No one does.”
I give her a level look. “Tell me, then.”
“Day, you mean more to me than some crush.” Her brows furrow as she tries to explain herself. “When the entire world turned its back on me and left me to die, you took me in. You were the one person who cared about what might happen to me. You were everything. Everything. You became my entire family—you were my parents and my siblings and my caretaker, my only friend and companion, you were both my protector and someone who needed protecting. You see? I didn’t love you in the way you might’ve thought I did, although I can’t deny that was part of it. But the way I feel goes beyond that.”
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say. All I can do is see.
Tess lets out a shaky breath. “So when I thought June might take you away, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like she was taking everything that mattered to me. I felt like she was taking away from you all the things that I didn’t have.” She lowers her eyes. “That’s why I’m sorry. I’m sorry because you shouldn’t have to be everything to me. I had you, but I’d forgotten that I had myself too.” She pauses to look over at the Patriots, who are deep in conversation. “It’s a new feeling, something I’m still getting used to.”
And just like that, we’re both kids again. I see the younger us, dangling our feet over the edge of some broken high-rise, watching the sun dip every evening below the ocean’s horizon. How much we’ve seen since then, how far we’ve come.
I reach over to tap her nose once, just like how I always have. She smiles for the first time.
The night has transitioned into the early hour before dawn, and the drizzle and slush has finally paused, leaving the city glistening under the moonlight. The evacuation alarm still echoes every now and then, and the JumboTrons continue their ominous red warning to seek cover, but a brief lull has hit the battle and the skies aren’t full of jets and explosions. Guess both sides have to rest up or something. I rub the weariness from my eyes and try to ignore my headache—I could use some rest.
“It’s not gonna be easy, you know,” Pascao whispers to me as we both survey the morning. “They’re probably on the lookout for Republic soldiers.” We’re perched on top of the Armor, watching the field just beyond the city’s boundaries. It’s not like people don’t live outside the Armor, but unlike LA, which is just one large spread of buildings that melts right into its neighboring cities, Denver’s population is sparser outside the safety of its walls. Small clusters of buildings sit here and there. They seem empty, and I wonder if the Republic saw the Colonies approaching from a distance and evacuated their people inside the Armor. Although the Colonies’ airships have returned back to their own land in order to refuel, they’ve left a bunch of jets in the fields, and the areas they’ve occupied are well lit with floodlights. I’m kind of shocked by how repulsed I am at the thought of the Colonies taking us over. A year ago, I would be cheering at the top of my goddy lungs for this exact scenario. But now I just hear the Colonies’ slogan over and over in my head. A free state is a corporate state. The ads I remember from their cities make me shiver.