Chapter Thirty-Six
Delaney
"Tomorrow?"
I squeaked out the word with a dash of fear, peeling the three syllables from my tongue and squeezing them through my lips. Grimly, Nessa nodded her confirmation
"Miracle has finally made a decision as to what will be done with you," she stated, shoving her hands into her blazer pockets. "You'll find out tomorrow, the same day as the ceremony."
"Well, that's just wonderful," Abby snapped sarcastically. She then let out a stream of expletives that I think summed up what all of us were feeling, though in an admittedly vulgar way.
"Do you know what she's decided?" Trai questioned, seemingly unfazed.
Nessa shook her head. "All she said was to tell you three that she'd made her choice; you'll find out soon, though, I guess. But don't worry too much," she said with a wink.
Then, stealthily, she retracted her hands from her pockets, reaching under the table and pressing a folded slip of paper into the palm of my hand. It happened in less than a second.
The sly look in her eyes kept me quiet as I carefully unfurled the scrap and scanned over the words scrawled across it. After reading it, I looked up, caught Nessa's eye, and nodded imperceptibly.
Nessa stood up, sighing. "Well"—she smoothed down the front of her suit—"I'm afraid that's all the time I have, for now. I'll have some plans to attend to later."
The impassive look on Trai and Abby's faces showed no sign that they understood, but I knew they got the hint. Somehow, in some way, we'd receive the information about the plan later that day. The instructions for obtaining the information, in fact, were clutched in my hand, crumpling more by the second. As soon as Nessa was out the door, I thrust the paper into Trai's hands beside me, then began babbling incessantly, spewing out the words that I knew I'd be expected to say.
"I'm so scared, guys," I said, and even though I was terrified, I was thinking less about my fear and more about buying Trai and Abby enough time to read Nessa's note. "What do you think she'll do to us?"
"Who cares?" Abby snorted. She wore a calm expression, but I could see her glancing at the paper out of the corner of her eye. Trai passed it to her when he had finished reading, and I watched as she mouthed it to herself, already knowing what it said by heart.
From 3 o'clock to 3:30, all cameras will be off. At that time, follow these instructions: Above the sink in your bathroom, there is a grated ventilation track. Between the slats, you will find a packet of information regarding your parts in the rebellion. Take it, memorize it, and destroy it in the remainder of your half hour. Whatever you do, whatever happens, do not panic, and do not let the packet fall into the wrong hands. That much is imminent. We will not see you before tomorrow, so until then, good luck.
Beneath the handwritten note, Nessa and Perfecta had signed their names in scraggly script. I saw Abby slowly close her fist around the paper, her face a blank screen. Discreetly, she looked up at the clock above the television, and I followed her gaze. Two-thirteen. Just over forty five minutes until zero hour.
We sat in tense silence for a moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts—then Abby sighed and stood up, throwing her arms back over her head in an exaggerated stretch and yawning. Then she turned to us with a stern look.
"Well, there's no use in worrying until it happens, right?" she asked, referring, I suspected, to both the rebellion and our punishment. "Whatever it is, it won't kill us. Probably," she added with a snort.
It was that "probably" that was worrying me. In truth, we hadn't seen the full extent of Miracle's rage; but that didn't mean it wasn't ridiculously powerful. The Superior was extremely driven by her emotions; that much I could tell in the few times we'd met her. Particularly, she seemed to have a tendency toward anger, and a sense of vengeance that left me with little hope. Given the hatred that she had toward us, I was almost certain that our punishment would not be a light one. And that thought, quite honestly, scared the living hell out of me. Not to mention that, after my conversation with Abby the day before, I wasn't quite so trusting of Nessa, either.
Trai remarked, "I guess all we can do for now is wait," then stood up as well. The siblings traipsed back to their respective beds, and a moment later, the television came on, blaring an ad for some kind of fancy soap. I didn't move from my seat at the table. There was a heavy feeling of dread seeping into my gut, despite the confidence Nessa had shown in her plan. The whole rebellion suddenly seemed too flimsy, too weak, as if it would crumble beneath my feet if I took a single step toward it. Obviously, Nessa and Perfecta had planned things out, but how much could be done in the few days they'd had? And how would we fair, learning the complete plan only a day before it was set to be put into action?
By the time we were one minute away from three o'clock, I had worried myself into a knot. My eyes followed the second hand as it circled the clock face, biting my lip in worry. Behind me, Abby and Trai still lounged quietly, and the TV was playing a cheesy sitcom. I let my gaze drift to the security camera mounted in the corner of the room as it swept in a lazy circle to encompass the entire space.
It happened very quickly: one second, the camera was moving, blinking a red light to show that it was recording. The next second, it had eased to a gentle stop, and the light had gone dim. Almost unconsciously, I leaped to my feet.
"Thirty minutes starts now," I announced, turning slowly around.
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"Who gets to read it first?" I asked in a breathy whisper. Abby held the packet, having been the one to retrieve it from the vent. (Trai's feet were too big to balance on the sink, and I was, well, too short.) She tossed it anxiously from hand to hand, glancing nervously at the clock every few seconds. We had seventeen minutes left: all the time in the world, but the minutes would speed by if we didn't get a move on.
"To save time, I say we all read it together," Trai stated. Obligingly, his sister laid out the hastily stapled sheets on the table and flipped back the first page, which was blank.
Her action revealed a black-and-white map of one level of a building, nothing more. Making an impatient sound in the back of her throat, Abby flipped to the next page before I could manage more than a glance at the previous one. It was another map. And another. And another.
It wasn't until the last page that we found any text, and even then, it was nothing more than a measly paragraph. I skimmed over it hungrily, but was sorely disappointed.
Go along with whatever Miracle has in mind, it read. We'll have people to extract you before any damage can be done. All you have to do is play it cool.
It was far from reassuring.
"That's it?" Abby exclaimed incredulously, flipping through the pages with a desperate fervor. "Are you kidding me?"
After a moment of shocked silence, Trai stood abruptly. He shook his head and stalked away, into the bathroom. Just before the door swung shut behind him, I heard him mutter, "This is bull."
I moved as if to go after him, saying, "Should we..." Abby shook her head.
"Just let him alone. He needs to blow off steam."
I raised an eyebrow. "In the bathroom?"
I'd meant no harm with that comment; it had just been a weak attempt to inject some humor into the situation. But, much to my surprise, Abby whirled around, staring me down with fury in her eyes.
"Screw off, Delaney," she snarled.
I blinked back my surprise and settled for a frown. "That was unnecessary," I said quietly.
My only response was a terse "Shut up" and another venomous glare.
Instead of shrinking back in the face of her anger, I stood a little taller. A few weeks before, that kind of confrontation might have terrified me, but that was then and this was now. I felt a spark of annoyance rather than fear, prompting me to respond with just as much venom as she had used.
"Get a grip," I snapped coolly, brushing my tangled hair out of my face. "I really don't know why you're being so hostile. You're taking every chance you get to contradict me or cut me down." I paused and frowned. "It seems to me that you just want to argue with anything that moves."
She froze and clenched her fists, staring at the wall above my head.
"Would you just drop it?" she demanded.
"Drop what? I didn't start anything, Abby; your attitude is not my fault."
Abby took a while to answer, first pushing in her chair and pulling the hem of her t-shirt. Then she looked straight at me, her eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion.
"Maybe that's not," she hissed. "But it's most certainly your fault that you're such a pathetic Loser."
She said the last word so scathingly that I knew she meant it with a capital L. And with that, she strode off. Except that, in the tiny room, there was nowhere to go, so she went as far as her bed, next to the bathroom door, and collapsed into it, burying her face into a pillow and winding her arms tightly around it. It was at that moment that I realized the true reason for her vicious attitude.
Abby was scared.
Caleb
"Do you understand?" Nessa asked me.
Blearily, I nodded. After following them the night before, even looking Nessa and Perfecta in the eye was hard. But I couldn't let them see my discomfort, because if Ms. Shea was right, and they couldn't be trusted, I had to be more careful than ever.
"I understand," I confirmed. My role in the plan was to sneak away from the ceremony and let the Pro-Inferiors in through the underground tunnels. The details were hazy, but both of them assured me that everything from there on would be taken care of. It was hardly consolatory, but I wasn't about to pry for more details. Though Perfecta and Nessa might not have realized it, at that point we were walking on shells, and a single wrong move could shatter the ground beneath our feet.
"Excellent," Perfecta said, glancing down at her watch. "We have a good twenty minutes left until the cams come back on. I'm going to take advantage of that. Hopefully everything worked out with..." She trailed off without finishing, already distracted, and headed toward the door. I watched her go, simultaneously keeping an eye on Nessa's expression. It was calm, serene, even; a complete contrast from the twisted sneer that I'd seen on her face when she'd visited Myra Shea.
"I suppose I should be going as well," Nessa said, standing up as the door closed behind Perfecta. "There's quite a lot to prepare for."
I watched quietly as she gathered her things—then, suddenly, something occurred to me.
"Nessa," I began, "why does Perfecta hate the Superiors?"
The woman froze, but didn't look at me. She sputtered a nervous laugh. "Why not? You know what they've done, Caleb."
I persisted. "That doesn't change the fact that she's a Superior herself. You'd think that she'd have a little bit more loyalty to the government, considering that." Pursing my lips, I paused. "Then again, of course, there's me. But I wouldn't have thought this way if you hadn't told me about my past. So what's Perfecta's excuse?"
Finally, Nessa sighed, slowly returning to her seat. She folded her hands together, leaning against them and looking me in the eye.
"Do you remember me telling you that Perfecta was one of the first Superiors?" she asked. I nodded, vaguely remembering that from one of our previous discussions. In my opinion, that fact made Perfecta's disloyalty even more confounding.
Nessa went on. "Well, she wasn't created in the way that Miracle and Charisma were—that is, grown from an embryo in an artificial womb stimulator. Rather, Leary—ah—acquired her at some point during his killing sprees with Miracle. In other words, he kidnapped her."
She paused as if expecting a reaction from me, but I was unsurprised. Miracle's conversation with Charisma and Champion had suggested as much.
"I believe she was about fifteen at the time," Nessa continued, "and her family was wealthy enough to live in the same security complex as a politician. Right next door to her, in fact. Leary saw her as he was staking out the politician's home, and immediately wanted her to be one of his Superiors. She became one, against her will, and has hated this life ever since."
"Wouldn't Leary have just wiped her memories?" I questioned, leaning forward in interest. Nessa shook her head.
"The process hadn't been developed yet," she explained. "And by the time it was, she was already a Superior. It's much more difficult to tamper with your brains."
I squirmed involuntarily at the way she included me with the other Superiors, but ventured for another question.
"And what about her name? What kind of parent in their right mind would name their child 'Perfecta'?"
"Her given name wasn't Perfecta," Nessa assured, smiling slightly, "it was Priscilla. But she started a tradition, that being that whenever a special Superior comes along, their name is changed to something more fitting to their perfection. It happened with your brother, and, had your changing not been so impromptu, I assume it would have happened with you, too."
Having nothing to say, I just stared back at her silently.
"Now, is that all you wanted to know?" Nessa sounded impatient. "I don't really have much time for talking right now. Are you set for tomorrow?"
I simply nodded, murmuring a distracted "yes" as Nessa exited the room. But in the doorway she paused, and, without looking back, conversationally said, "Oh, and Perfecta and I know that you followed us." At my gasp of surprised, she chuckled. "It was hard not to notice when we checked the security tapes. We saw what Ms. Shea said to you, and"—she paused deliberately—"well, don't worry about her; she doesn't know what she's going on about. Being in the Capitol has made her go a little bit insane."
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Once I was left to my own devices, the silence invited a perfect opportunity to over-think my situation. I went over the events of the previous day in my mind, chronologically from first occurrence to last, starting with my encounter with Miracle. Now, when I thought about it, I couldn't help but feel the ghost of her lips against mine—and wish that they were still there.
And, in thinking of Miracle, another familiar person came to mind. In the abrupt way that thoughts do, my brain switched focus. My brother's face suddenly filled my mind: Champion, his eyes hard and solemn. I wondered how much he recalled of the past. I wondered if he'd felt the same recognition I had when we'd first met. Or if he remembered Dyanne, his beautiful girlfriend who Miracle had killed.
All of a sudden, I had a gut instinct, a whispered urging to find Champion and attempt to trigger his memory. I needed someone who I could trust, wholeheartedly and without a doubt. Who would be better, I thought, than my own brother?
I found him in the Kennedy Garden, sitting on a bench and staring blankly at the sky. Without making a sound, I eased myself down beside him. He was so lost in thought that he didn't seem to notice me, and I was fine with that. Several moments of silence had gone by before I cleared my throat.
"Hello, Champion," I greeted awkwardly. My brother jerked as if being woken from a dream, and turned to me with wide eyes.
"Caleb, you startled me," he murmured. "I was actually just about to go and see you."
I knew that wasn't true, but nodded politely. He seemed unusually pensive.
"Listen, Champion," I said, dropping my voice, "is there anywhere we can talk where no one will hear us?"
As soon as the words had left my mouth, I wondered how smart I had been to say them. Champion instantly began examining me suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. His expression was ridden with distrust.
Then, much to my relief, he nodded, hesitating only slightly as he whispered, "Follow me."
He led me into the grassy area of the garden, far from the cammed hallways surrounding it. Unless there were cameras woven into the grass, there was no way for us to be spied on.
"Brilliant," I murmured.
Champion nodded, his eyes still guarded as they bore into the ground. "What is it?" he asked.
I turned in a slow circle, taking in the well-kept shrubbery, before responding. The garden was nice, in a simple kind of way, and very quiet, too. Besides Champion and I, there wasn't a single soul to be seen.
"How much do you remember?" I questioned at last, turning back to my brother. There was silence, then he cocked an eyebrow.
"Remember?"
"About before." I swept my hand in a messy arc. "Before the Capitol, before your life here. How much do you remember?"
There was a long, tense silence as Champion regarded me in blatant disbelief.
"Caleb," he began with an anxious chuckle, "there was no 'before'. I've always been here, just like you." There was a light I couldn't decipher in his eyes.
"I know you don't believe that," I said. Stopping my slow rotational movement, I leaned closer to my brother. "Tell me, Christopher; can I trust you?"
I used his real name on purpose, just to gauge his reaction. At that point, I had no idea what I was doing, except that my purpose was to get Champion on my side. His face twisted up in deliberation, then went slack as he stared back at me.
"Shouldn't I be asking that of you?"
I laughed a little bit. "I guess. But I just want to know that you won't go running back to Miracle with everything I'm about to tell you."
My brother shoved his hands into his pockets, then lifted one to his forehead and rubbed it across his brow, just above the green eyes that mirrored my own.
"Miracle and I haven't been on such great terms lately," he said calmly. "Let's hear it."
I toyed with all the possible things I could say, shifting from foot to foot as I debated. Christopher was watching me expectantly.
"I guess I'll just start with the simplest thing," I decided, "and tell you that you're my brother. You were brought here two years ago as a candidate. Miracle killed your girlfriend, turned you into a Superior, and has been lying to you ever since."
Much to my surprise, he chuckled sadly. "Tell me something I don't know."
I gaped. "What?"
"You underestimate my resourcefulness," Christopher chided. "I'd felt something off about the Capitol the moment I woke up as a Superior, and I have an uncanny ability to figure out things that people want to keep secret. I don't have all my memories, of course, but I've managed to scrounge up quite a bit about my past. Contrary to what you think, I've been the one deceiving Miracle for the past couple of years."
That was probably the last thing I thought I would hear. I'd been expecting disbelief and confusion, not to approach my brother and find out that he already knew who he was, and, perhaps more importantly, who I was.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I managed finally.
"I figured Nessa and Perfecta would take care of that."
So he knew about Nessa and Perfecta, or, at the very least, knew they weren't exactly buddy-buddy with Miracle. The fact that he'd never turned them in meant that he, too, harbored some animosity toward the Superiors. I was almost certain now that I could trust him.
"You know who they work for, then?" I questioned cautiously.
After a split second pause, he shook his head. "Unless the answer is Miracle, no, I do not. Care to enlighten me?"
I felt an inexorable stab of familiarity at his light tone, and ached for a memory that was just out of reach. But I put on a cool smile and draped an arm around my brother's shoulders. It was so easy to pretend that I was confident, even though my shock was almost dizzying.
"All right," I replied calmly, returning to the gut feeling that had brought me here in the first place. "Let me tell you about the Pro-Inferiors."
A/N: This chapter is a hot mess.
Actually, it's not even hot. It's just a mess. -.-
I hate re-writing.