Jonas was right. He did land the jet in an old cornfield.
It was abandoned as a cause of more efficient agriculture methods to utilize less space. Mallory told Zane it was something FEPE had approved and performed.
Short, broken, dead stalks were like spears in their feet, stabbing into their skin, occasionally drawing blood. Zane winced with every step and, even though he had shoes on, he couldn't escape the pain the cornstalks caused. It felt similar to the pinpricks of a needle of which he was used to.
Jonas was ushering them away toward a patch of forest in the general direction of the city. "We've gotta go before they get here," he hissed, prodding Zane through the deathly dead plants. The imminent threat of arrest was supposedly adrenaline-inducing, but Zane halted for a brief moment.
"I thought you said London didn't have a military?" he said.
Mallory's head snapped around. "Nobody ever said they didn't," she spat. "They're just not as coordinated as Japan or New Vancouver. They still have police and soldiers and they won't hesitate to lock us up for flying a military jet over the city." She sped up, her gait lengthening. "I am not going back to jail."
Zane understood her intense desire to never re-enter that phase of her life. He never wanted to go to New Vancouver ever again. It was a place of undesirable remembrance. The same could be said for jail cells and Mallory.
Zane turned back to watch the jet sink to the far reaches of his vision. So much had happened in the span of less than a day, most of it on the plane. Many personal revelations had also conspired, and for the first time in his life, he found himself feeling nostalgic. He had never had the desire to relive a previous time in his life before. But despite the dire circumstances that were realized on the jet, he found himself wanting to be back on the aircraft. Perhaps back in the bunking quarters, still kissing Joseph.
He was scared that Joseph would try it again, but inside he knew that the boy had only been feeling overly nostalgic and had just needed something to bring him down to earth. That something had been Zane. Joseph's actions had been compulsive, and Zane anticipated he regretted them, unless he was glad they had gotten him a short makeout session.
Lost in his thoughts, he brained himself on a low-hanging branch as they entered the sparse woods. Daisy giggled. "Could you be any less lovestruck?" she demanded, forcing a blush from both him and Joseph, who was walking nearby.
He rubbed his forehead and watched his step from then on, dodging tree trunks and branches when they threatened to smack him in the face.
He found himself absentmindedly running his hands along the trunks of the trees, feeling the rough bark and the texture it left behind on his fingers. He felt the spiny dark green needles as his feet scraped through the thin layer of snow lining the soil. A smile spread across his face when he realized this was his first real encounter with the natural world. He had never breathed in fresh air before, felt a prickle in his side, or stumbled over a root protruding from the ground.
Jonas pulled up alongside him. "You look like a kid with candy," he said accusingly.
Zane shook his head in admiration. "I never imagined the world could be so beautiful and colorful," he whispered, his head tilted to the open, blue sky. The soft, cold sunshine cascaded over his face and shoulders. He closed his eyes to savor it.
Jonas chuckled. "Me neither," he responded. "I thought color was generic, without shades or hues. New Vancouver was devoid of all variations of colors, it was mostly gray. Now I see that color can be anything you imagine, any feeling you feel, any emotion you see."
Zane nodded in agreement. "Do you think it'll be as beautiful in London?"
"I'd assume so," Jonas said. "But to us, everything looks beautiful because New Vancouver was so drab." He looked over to Joseph. "He had color in his life. He doesn't know how it looks to us."
Zane hated himself for feeling the same, but he couldn't help it. It felt as if Joseph had had more privileges than he did. Zane had had nothing. No supportive or caring parents, no hobbies, no interests, no personality, and he was only just beginning to discover these things for himself. Maybe even Jonas couldn't understand, but he was the closest to doing so.
Zane only nodded again, not wanting to speak degrading things about Joseph. Jonas let the conversation slip into silence as sirens blared out behind them, signaling the arrival of the police at the plane. This caused them to speed up their pace, ensuring their lead on the authorities.
"Do you expect we'll blend in?" Zane asked, throwing the question to anyone in particular.
Marcus answered. "You guys probably will," he said, taking stock of his own outfit. "I'll stand out like a sheep in a cow pasture. I'm going to have to find some other clothes."
Mallory grabbed his hand. "You'll be fine," she stated knowingly. Zane wrinkled his eyebrows. The cowboy outfit would surely draw attention, but it was one of the only things keeping his personality bends at bay. Without it, they could end up losing Marcus for several minutes several times a day, but it was something they had to risk. Marcus was right. He would be spotted and identified immediately.
"There's no regulation outfits here," Zane said monotonously. "There'll be clothing stores around." He ducked to avoid another branch. "We'll find you something."
Daisy looked Marcus up and down. "You could probably just lose the hat, and you'll be fine," she said honestly, nodding along with her statement.
"I hope so,"
They walked for about half an hour before they reached the outskirts of the city. Upon finding a clothing store, they exchanged Marcus's cowboy outfit with a subtle jeans and t-shirt look, his short red hair sticking up in random places. It may have been wintertime, but it was really not that cold out, which Zane founf oddly satisfying. He did not have happy experiences with cold. Zane and Mallory changed from the gray suits they were still wearing from New Vancouver.
When Zane stepped out of the suit, he felt free. The final constraints of New Vancouver had been lifted. He was his own person now, free to decide his own fate. Nothing about his old life concerned him. Let whatever would happen, happen. He was ready to embrace it.
Joseph had helped him see that. He would never have come this far alone. Joseph helped him exploit the largest misconception with the laws of New Vancouver. He could never bring himself to have a female spouse, like he would have been required to. Joseph knew that, and helped him use it. For that he was thankful.
The streets of London were bustling, day-goers running their errands as cars whizzed by, their electric motors buzzing. Potted plants inside windows soaked up the winter sunshine. Conversations drifted through the air, and Zane felt a sense of normalness. This must be what it felt like to live in a place where decisions were made by yourself, not others.
People greeted them on the streets, wide smiles on their faces. Handshakes were exchanged and awkward small talk was returned. The citizens didn't seem to mind.
Zane inhaled the fresh air, the cool breeze blown in from the abandoned fields. He happily skipped a little bit, enough to earn smiles from his friends. He sighed in ecstasy at the absolute magnificence of the city before him, the possibilities.
There appeared to be no concern among the citizens. Police officers were chatting idly with passersby, gesturing avidly with their hands as if they were best friends. Daisy scoffed. "I can see why Wawrzynski wants to target this place," she said, watching as a burly cop offered to carry a baby for a young mother. "They've grown weak. They'll never expect an attack. It'll be devastating."
"The intended effect," Anastasia growled furiously.
Jonas muttered an agreement. "They have no coordination whatsoever,"
Joseph changed the subject. "It's kind of a big question, but," he started. "Where are we going to stay? We've got this plan to stop a war that's not even a plan, and we have no place to go so we don't freeze at night."
The way Joseph said it made the whole point of their mission pointless, but it was true. They had no idea where Warzynski was to attack, when he planned to attack, or where they would stay. Nothing had been included in the email but a place. He found himself feeling slightly foolish for suggesting they come here without many essential details.
"He'll show himself," Mallory said confidently. "I have a feeling he's not done with us yet, so he'll want to get us back." She ran a hand through her curly hair. "And, I believe, we need money to get into a shitty motel or something, so I've got no clue where we're gonna stay."
Zane spoke up. "What if we asked one of these people?" he said. "I know there's a lot of us, but they all seem so friendly and nice."
"Don't judge a book by its cover," Mallory said. "New Vancouver was supposed to save the world, but now it's governor is trying to destroy the world and rule it."
"Good point," Zane said defeatedly. "But I still say we try asking somebody. We don't have much of a choice."
After a bit of coaxing, Mallory agreed, and they soon found refuge with a woman who ran a foster home. A large room upstairs was designated for them, with multiple cots and sofas for sleeping. A large table and bookshelves were also present. Zane found it slightly endearing. The others, not so much.
As soon as the woman disappeared down the stairs, Daisy raised an eyebrow. "We're supposed to stay in this dump?" she asked, gesturing to the room. Dark curtains were pulled across a floor-to-ceiling window, and Zane threw them open.
He turned to Daisy. "It's all we got," he stated.
Joseph looked around the quaint little room. "I think it's cute," he said.
Zane laughed.
"Now if we just-" Marcus began, but didn't finish. His eyes had glazed over and his muscles had tensed. His body was stiff as a board, and he rocked back and forth. His arms hung at his sides, limp and stiff at the same time. He muttered a small noise of surprise before his head fell forward.
Mallory grabbed him by the shoulder and, through small movements, manoeuvered him towards a nearby bed. An indiscernible look had taken over her eyes and Zane could not place the emotions battling for prominence in her brain. Her mouth twitched. "He'll be fine," she said. "They'll start happening more frequently now that he doesn't have his outfit."
Zane didn't know if Joseph, Anastasia, or Jonas knew about Marcus's personality bends, but they never questioned it. It was highly plausible Jonas knew, as Wawrzynski had used him as a database, piling information into his microchip. More likely than not, he had made Jonas read Marcus's file so he could have all that information at hand instead of rummaging through a filing cabinet.
Marcus laid back, his head against a hard pillow. His eyes were open but not seeing anything. A vein in his neck bulged as Zane watched, pumping blood to the boy's brain.
Zane took a seat at the table and Daisy plopped down beside him.
She put her chin on her closed fists. "You kissed him again, didn't you?" she asked.
He pointed a finger at her. "I still haven't scolded you for stopping that one earlier," he said viciously, his eyes narrowing.
"Hey," she said placatingly. "You gotta get that slow lovin'." She giggled, pleased with herself. "You'll thank me later."
"I don't think so," he responded.
"You'll see,"
"You're too confident,"
"I think I'm just the right amount of confident." She flipped her hair.
He rolled his eyes. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he rubbed the smooth surface of the syringe and ran his finger over the sharp needle point that threatened to poke out from the pocket. Eager to change the subject, he said, ""How's Anastasia doing?"
Daisy looked mournfully at her twin sister. "She was never one to fight for what she thought was right," she said. "She doesn't see how this affects her, so she doesn't see why it needs to be done."
Zane nodded. "But it does affect her," he reprimanded. "She's a failed experiment. Wawrzynski won't stop until she either joins him or dies." Anastasia surely should have realized this, but she had been separated from her family when she was eleven, with only Daisy to keep her company. Zane knew firsthand it wasn't easy knowing what Daisy thought was right or wrong.
Daisy looked slightly confused. "Long-term consequences aren't something she considers," she said, letting her hands fall to the table, still clenched in fists. "It could be a side effect of the earlier experiments they ran on us. We were never part of the microchip testing; they tested the trial serums on us. Mostly her, though. Her mental state was far stronger."
"How do you mean?"
"When they separated us from our family, I took it really hard. They were the only people I'd ever looked up to. Anastasia, though, was very detached from family affairs. She preferred to hang out with her friends instead of spending time with us." She paused to wipe a tear away. "So she took the separation easier than I did. The first couple years of testing consisted of me depressed and alone and her volunteering to take the trials to protect me."
"Daisy, I'm sorry," he said.
She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Once again, you've played me like a fiddle. I never intended to tell anyone about that." She smiled. "Thanks for listening, Zane."
He smiled back. "No problem," he said. And he meant it.
"You're a good friend,"
He grasped Daisy's hand with his own from across the table. "You can be annoying at times, but I still love you." She laughed and his grin widened.
"I'm glad I met you, you freak,"