I wake in the night to someone moving beside me and the absence of a warm body. I groan and try to pry open my eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Anton whispers in the darkness and takes my hand. "Go back to sleep."
"What time is it?" I mumble and blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be doing something right now, but in my euphoric state of mind, with my skin smelling like Anton's, I can't remember what.
"It's late," he says. "I'm just going to get some ice cream from the kitchen."
"You're kidding me," I mumble.
"I never kid about ice cream," he says seriously, and then grins in the dark. "Wanna come?"
"Only if you've got pear and blue cheese," I mutter and he laughs. I borrow one of Anton's shirts and a pair of shorts before we tip-toe into the kitchen, which turns out to be a good idea seeing as we're far from alone.
"Well well well, look at what the cat has dragged in," Paula Saito says. She's sitting at the kitchen table underneath a single light in a red kimono and with a mug of what smells like tea in her hand. On the other side of the table, also with a mug of tea, sits Hera Thelonious in a nightgown with her hair in a low pony tail. I've never seen her without make-up on, but in the dim light of the apartment kitchen her face is all clean, making her look incredibly young.
"Mum," Anton says and I can see his cheeks flush again. "How, how was the meeting?"
"It was okay," Hera says with a smile. "I haven't decided whether I'll accept yet, but we're having another one in a few days. And we found your glasses in the living room. You aren't usually so careless with them." She reaches out Anton's glasses and smiles at me. "Good to see you again Noah."
"Hold up, you two know each other?" Anton asks as he takes the glasses and puts them on.
"She uhm, she was the one who told me about the test a couple of days ago," I say. I forgot to mention that detail.
"Seriously?" Paula says and glares at the first wife. "You want to tell him where the Government hides all of their radioactive weapons too?"
Hera chuckles and rewrap her hands around the mug. "Don't judge Paula, the boy deserved to know about his sister."
"But you were so upset yesterday," Anton says. "Why were you so angry if you already knew?"
"It's a longer story," I say and scratch my neck.
"Well I want to hear it," Anton says.
"Yes, please sit down," Paula says icily. "And afterwards you can tell me how you plan on paying for my vase and table."
Anton gets two more mugs from a cabinet and pours us some tea from a pot. Then he makes me sit down and slides one of the mugs over to me. It's awfully comforting having something boiling hot between my hands, and just enough to get me through telling them all about how my sister switched our tests, that I don't know how she found out about it, and that I'm the reason she died.
"That's not true," Anton exclaims the second I mention it.
"It's actually quite true," Paula mumbles and takes a sip of her tea.
"No, it's not," Anton snaps at her and takes my hand. "Noah, there's no way you could have known about that test. It's not your fault."
"Just like there's no way you could have known about your mother's abuse," I say softly and touch his hair. Anton stares at me and I can't help but smile. Strong moral compass sure, but too much self-sacrifice too.
"You should believe him," Hera says and meets her son's gaze. "He's right."
"Mum," Noah breathes.
"Listen to your mother boy," Paula says and gets up to pour herself some more tea. "She's done more for you than you'll ever know."
"Paula," Hera says with an obvious warning in her voice. It's the first time I've as much as heard her be stern. "Another time."
"Are you kidding me Hera? You should pull yourself together. Take charge of your life. Stop being a lady and start being a woman," Paula snorts and comes back with a newly filled mug. "You and your polite hospitality is going to be the death of me. You're giving me grey hairs before my time."
"Time," I say and then I know what I've forgotten. "I promised Garmen I'd be home before rush hour."
"But rush hour's around seven or so, right?" Anton says and looks at a clock above the stove. "It's nearly one in the morning."
"Oh, wrut," I say and scramble up from my chair. "I really have to get home."
"Okay," Anton says. "Let's get your clothes."
He leads me back into his room where I strap on my clothes and Anton blushes at the sight of the messy bed, of the sheets pulled off the corners and the pillows on the floor. I smile at him.
"That was your first time?" I ask.
"No, I've been with loads of prostitutes while balled up here and sharing a wall with my mother," Anton says and rolls his eyes. "Yes, it was my first time."
"Am I allowed to feel a little proud I was your first?" I ask and push my feet into my shoes.
"Yes," Anton says and kisses me lightly, smiling against my mouth. "But only a little. Do you need anything? Money? A ride?"
"Popping up in a car isn't exactly a way to stay anonymous in the lower parts of the city," I say although there's been quite a few occurrences of cars by the Cave the last weeks. Better not risk it though. There's already too many reasons for my home to be targeted. And there's no way I'll let him drive me into those parts of the city only to get home alone.
"Right," Anton says. "I'm just going to miss you, that's all."
"Not as much as I'll miss you," I say and make sure I look him straight in the eyes when I say it. Anton smiles and nods his head.
"Come on, you should get back to Garmen or she'll never let you visit again."
I follow him out where Hera is waiting to see us off. Paula is standing in the kitchen and putting the mugs in the dishwasher.
"Thank you so much for, well, having me," I say only slightly awkwardly.
"It's been a pleasure," Hera says and squeezes my hand with her birdlike one. "You're welcome any time."
"No, he's not," Paula shouts from the kitchen. "Mark my words, he'll bring nothing but trouble."
"Don't mind aunt Paula," Anton says. "She's always suspecting the worst from people."
"And what do you know, I'm still alive," Paula says.
"Bye Paula," I call back cheekily. "It was also a pleasure to meet you." Paula snorts but she doesn't offer any other sarcastic comment. Instead I turn to Anton. "Good bye, for now," I say. He gets that determined expression like the one he wore this afternoon before he reaches out and pulls me in for a kiss.
"Come back soon," he whispers against my mouth.
"Try keeping me away," I grin before opening the front door and beginning the descend of the stairs with Hera calling after me I have to be careful because the news has been predicting unrest in the city for a few days now and it might accumulate tonight.
Outside, the wind is warm as it whips my hair back and forth. The market square is packed up and abandoned, the stands bolted and closed and the lamp posts the only source of light. The buildings are all tall and left in the dark – real middle-class Washington buildings, not as high tech as in Chicago but cozier and more grandma-like.
I walk past my old school in silence, wondering if I've scared the crap out of the principal or if he's sleeping soundly tonight. It does seem strange that I don't find any Pacifiers roaming the streets, keeping the inhabitants safe and crime from being committed. But it's not until I get to the edge of the middle part that I realize something actually is going on. There are faint shouts and I can smell something burning. I find a corner to look out from to see what the Hell is going on, and I fall backwards in my strive to hide, unable to contain a gasp.
There is an accumulation alright – Pacifiers are standing in lines upon lines of robotic precision, their guns raised but not pointed at me, haven't even seen me. They're pointed in the opposite direction, towards the mass of people with torches and metal rods and whatever else lower-class citizens are able to find in their wrecked part of town, yelling and shouting for justice at the top of their lungs.
There's no way I'll be able to get through that crowd, even if I wanted too. And it's making me all jittery just standing here, halfway concealed by a middle-class building. Think Noah, I tell myself. How are you going to get yourself out of this mess? I could go back to Anton, ask if I can borrow his pad to call the Cave, but I honestly have no idea what Barooba's number is. I've never had use for learning it since none of us has ever been able to afford pads ourselves. Well, that's not true – technically I can buy one now. I can buy a whole lot, but my gold in Garmen's room doesn't exactly do me any good right now thanks to Alle Bronze.
And then it pops into my head that I should try and think like her. She's an awful person, but she's also a genius in her own right. When she wants something, she gets it – Government secrets exposed, a fiancé, a place in the rebellion. She's cold but if she puts her mind to it, she can probably bend steel. I can imagine she'd come up with a plan for this sort of predicament too; a smartie-worthy Ars imperatoria strategy with secret passages to overthrow the monarch, but as far as I know there are only secret passages in the White House and not in Washington.
Except for the sewers.
With a grin that in no way fits the situation, I take off down a street of houses. Every now and then the wind will carry the sounds of the uproar to me, but mostly it's only muffled background noise to the blood rushing in my ears and my soles against the asphalt. I make it to the edge of the city before I'm even out of breath where abandoned vehicles, vehicles which curiously enough match the Pacifier's spotless uniforms, lay abandoned. They might've all been called to defend the middle part of the city so they won't get into the upper part where the White House lies. Or maybe they're afraid that the uproar will spread if the middle class realizes what's going on. Wasn't that Alle's plan? To get the middle class to join them? Chicago might've joined the rebellion but Washington? Not so much as far as I can tell.
I get myself squished out between the vehicles and sprint out to the edge of the city where there's nothing but fields and, on this side of the town, woodlands for what looks like miles. If these are the woods I should be on the west side now, which means I just have to follow the sewers in a straight line to get home.
I only have to trail the town limits for a little while before I find the round concrete opening with a steady stream of debris making its way out, just like it does on the east side. It's a thick liquid halfway between water and mud, smelling like a toilet and with chunks of all kind of stuff floating in it – stuff I have no intention of finding out what is.
Trying to breathe through my nose, and promising myself I'll buy a new pair of shoes as soon as any store, any store at all, opens up, I plunge directly into the sewage.
After a few steps, my shoes are soaked and paranoia is running up and down my spine. I'm existing in complete darkness only ever interrupted by a few spots of light shining through manhole covers above me. I have to use my hands to feel my way forward along the walls on my left side, and every time there is an opening, I stumble a few steps forward before I get to the other side. This means that every time I feel something touching my ankles I instantly think rat and I have to really control myself to not start screaming my head off. Then my brain makes a U-turn, thinking about how this might be what a grave feel like only with more room, and then I begin to wonder if this is where the Pacifiers send all of the bodies they find in the streets – chopped up of course, so the smaller parts are able to float with the current. After that, every time something touches my ankles I absolutely know it's a severed hand.
For the longest time, I keep my own panic in check before I'm able to hear the shouts and yells above me. The stench of the sewer is covering up any smell of fire or burning, but I'm sure all that is still going on. I find a manhole where I can look straight up into the ass of a Pacifier which is quite nice considering it's a machine, and when I walk a little further I find another one being trampled by boots and bare feet. A bit of dirt is shaken off and hits me in the face, and I decide to keep moving without looking up so much. When I'm satisfied I'm past the craziest part, I climb up to one of the manholes, using steps drilled into the sewer side, and try to push the metal lid off.
I'm shoved back down with a painful yank to my shoulder as somebody runs over me, but the second time it comes off completely and I am able to climb up, gasping for fresh air. It's a miracle I haven't vomited yet, but my stomach is definitely getting ready for it. The air helps though, and I make sure to take deep breaths as I drag myself up.
There is a man staring at me. His whole face is a beard and he's missing several teeth. It takes me a second of confusement before I can place him, but then I realize it's Gunnar's ex-doorman – Santa Clause.
"Hey!" he shouts at me. "That coupon was worthless! You owe me a blowjob!"
"Oh my God," I groan and fight another heave. "How about I take a bath first, eh?" He seems to think about that and decide that might just be a good idea.
"Why were you in the sewers?" he asks less aggressively, and I nod towards the line in front of us, build by human bodies. I can't see the Pacifiers anymore, only hooders and angry people fighting to get closer to the action. Santa Clause's eyes widen. "You came from under there?" he asks.
"Not with my good intention," I say and finally manages to stand up. "It was much nicer over there."
Then I turn around and flee before Santa Clause remembers I'm also part of the reason he lost his job.
I run all the way home in my soaked shoes which are still spraying mud-water all over the street. Luckily, the Cave is in the opposite direction of the riot, but I still have to duck at a Molotov cocktail as it soars over my head and smash through an already broken window. Flames erupt together with the tearing scent of spirits and three hooders, all skeleton and skin, scream and run out into the street while waving their arms around like reborn phoenixes still on fire. This is definitely not a place I want to stay.
I make it to the Cave which looks dead and abandoned without the usual multi-colored lights illuminating the interior. A hoarse cry of relief escapes me as I run up to the entrance and almost punch the door in with my knocking. Then there is a demanding voice. "What do you want?"
"Barooba," I half yell half sigh. "It's Noah, let me in."
There is a ruffle and then the door opens and a hand grabs me and pulls me inside to shut the door behind me.
I stumble a few steps before I regain my balance and have to take a second glance around the room. It's decayed into darkness, two candles are burning on the refractory table, casting scarse and flickering lights around the assembled prostitutes. But something's wrong – there are way too few faces. I don't see Brice or Ricardo, or Endria or Quills or Sammie for that matter. And I can't find Garmen either.
"What is that smell," Ginnifer exclaims and makes a vomit sound. Carrie-Ann only politely scrunch her nose while everybody else fight their gag reflexes.
"Where are the others?" I ask as my heartrate settles into something slower than galloping.
"Where do you think?" Ki Aimi snaps. It takes me a full heartbeat to realize what she's saying.
"They're out there?" I exclaim. "In that mess?"
"The boys, Endria and Quills wanted to join," Barooba says matter of fact-ly, although she doesn't look too happy about it. "Sammie went with them to make sure they were safe."
"And Garmen?" I ask.
"She went looking for you dumb-ass," Hannah sneers from her spot on the staircase.
"What?" I exhale. "No, she can't have."
"She got worried when you didn't show up at rush hour," Barooba says. "When she was with a customer the rest of the town seemed to collectively lose their minds, and when you didn't come home at midnight she begged me to call Alle Bronze. When the luminary didn't know where you were, Garmen got it into her head you were lying in a ditch somewhere, so high you had no idea how to move. She went with the others to look for you."
"And you didn't stop her?" I yell, but Barooba stays still like a statue with only a nerve making her eye twitch in the moon tattoo.
"I didn't know they were going," she says levelly. "They snuck out of a window on the first floor."
I stare at her. It's true it's not her fault I made it okay to defy her so others could sneak off, but I don't have time for her hatred right now, or her blame for the loss of authority. Instead I keep down a string of curses spin around to tear the door open and run back outside.
I sprint down the street, weave between littered bodies and people either too drunk or too high or too everything to be able to find which direction to go for the fighting.
"Garmen!" I yell as I hit the first wall of bodies, all shouting the same thing: Peace, peace, peace, which is an odd thing to chant in the middle of a revolution. "Garmen!"
"What do we want?" a sudden voice booms over the crowd, and now I see it – a man dressed in black, wearing a black mask and black hoodie and black everything else, is standing on a sort of rolling, portable scene with a transparent shield towards the line of the Pacifiers while shouting through a megaphone.
"Freedom!" the public all too energetically barrage.
"When do we want it?"
"Now!"
"What will we give for it?"
"Everything!" the public roars like a massive wave which I have to clasp my hands over my ears to survive. And then the chant begins again, but this time I realize what word they're actually shouting: Piece, Piece, Piece. The man on that weird rolling scene pushed by his followers, is pretending to be Piece fighting for the revolution. That is just too weird. This is the public's answer to me? A former prostitute in the White House? He's old enough to be my dad twice over, and sure – some are into dad bodies, but not the Government. I should know.
"What is happening," I mumble in bafflement as I push through another cluster of bodies. "Garmen!"
Somebody's elbow hits me in the face and I taste metal, but I can't stop. Instead I dive between people trying to climb up on each other to get a better look, dodge a flying bottle which smashes against another's cranium.
"Noah!" a voice shouts, nearly inaudible in the commotion. I twirl around and recognize Brice, half a head taller than anybody else here. Beside him I see Ricardo, then Endria and Sammie clutching Quills who looks about ready to faint. I grit my teeth and fight my way towards them, shoving bodies aside. They meet me halfway.
"Where's Garmen?!" I shout over the chaos.
"We lost her!" Endria shouts back. "We think maybe she went back!"
I shake my head. No. If Garmen still thought I was out here she wouldn't go back, and I'm not going to either.
"Go back to the Cave!" I shout.
"What about you?" Brice yells.
"I'll find Garmen!" I shout in answer, already making my way back into the crowd. "I'll see you at home!"
I don't know if they leave because the place we've been standing is quickly obscured, but I truly hope so. They should be safely inside and not out here, and so should Garmen. It's impossible to find anyone in the chaos, what was she thinking? Maybe I should follow the others, maybe Garmen is already back at the Cave and the others are explaining to her that I'm fine and that I'll be home as soon as I realize she's too. But I can't – not on the slightest chance she's still looking for me.
What was it Barooba had said? That she'd thought I was lying high in an alley?
"God I'm stupid," I growl. Alleys aren't in the middle of the street, they're by the sides. I turn and begin pressing through the crowd towards the place I know Gunnar's crossbreed cage is. We usually shoot up in the alley right beside it, it is the place we both got so high we had to lie down on the curb. Even now, I can feel my pulse rise at the memory of the powder. And in the mist of it all, I need to take a break to hit my own wrist with the hairband.
When the shot rings out instincts take over immediately and I throw myself down and then rise up to look around. But nobody is trampling over me or shooting me. Instead I glimpse the faux-Piece with the gun he's shot up into the night air.
"What do we want?" he shouts again.
"Freedom!"
I've had about enough of this – all I want to do is find Garmen and get out of here. There is another shot and a roar from the masses, but the shared exhilaration changes immediately as a whole rain of gunshots begins. That's when people start screaming and running like a herd of cattle. There is absolutely no doubt: The Pacifiers have begun firing. The crowd must have become so immense they couldn't hold it back anymore.
Panic floods my whole brain and momentarily paralyzes me to the spot until I'm knocked over by a pair of bulldozing men and I hit the ground hard on the shoulder I used to push the manhole cover off with. It flares up in pain and I choke out a whimper as somebody steps on my stomach and all the air is pushed out of me, leaving me to relearn how to breathe in the middle of a rampage. I succeed in rolling to the side just as somebody else is about to crunch my ribs, and then a third falls over me with a yell before I manage to get my feet underneath me and up and running. I still can't breathe and my lungs ache deeply like exploded balloons underneath my ribcage. But lying there means death, and I still haven't found Garmen. I manage to get a little bit of air inside, enough that the balloons begin inflating again, and as I run I see the faux-Piece lying across the scene. The shield is gone and his whole body is bleeding from wounds I imagine stems from a load of different bullet holes.
"Garmen," I cough and force myself to breathe more air. "Garmen."
The crowd is clearing now, the people thinning out, and that's when I see a top of blonde hair, frantically swinging back and forth.
"Garmen," I gasp and fight my way towards her, pushing everybody I'm strong enough to push out of the way.
"Noah!" she yells as she sees me, and a relieved sigh fills her face before horror strikes it instead. She looks down and that's when she disappears from my view.
"Garmen!" I yell and push past another pair of people. "Garmen!"
She's lying on the asphalt, looking far too small to be the passionate girl I know and love. Everything around me falls silent as I rush forward, push a guy away as he's about to walk over her and crouch down by her. Her chest is rising and falling in shallow ragged gasps, her hair splayed out like a fan with the edges dipped in blood, matching the dark splotch spreading in the middle of her chest. Her eyes, wide and impossibly blue, are looking at me.
"Oh God," I say. My hands are flailing wildly over her frame and I have no idea what to do with them. My best friend in the world is bleeding out in front of me and I can do nothing about it. Garmen makes a rattling noise, then coughs, causing a trail of blood to travel down her cheek. "Don't, don't try to speak," I say. "I'll get you some help, I'll, I'll-"
"Noah," Garmen gurgles and weakly lifts her arm. I take her cold hand in mine and she clenches it as tightly as she can, which isn't tight at all.
"I'm so sorry Garmen, this is all my fault," I say and my voice breaks. "If only I'd been home." She says something else, but it's too weak for me to hear. When I lean down she manages to take a deep breath.
"You have to finish what you've started," she rasps. I move to tell her I don't know what she means, but when I look at her again her eyes have glazed over, staring at a point in the far distance, and her hand in mine is limp.
"No," I squawk and shake my head as hot tears conquer my vision. "Garmen!" But she doesn't answer, and she never will again.
There is still running and panic around me, shots being fired and a thundering of a lot of feet marching to the exact same rhythm. Let them come, I think. Let it happen.
I reach down to wrap my arm around Garmen one last time, to tell her goodbye and that I'm sorry and that I love her, but I never get that far. Hands grab me, yank me backwards as I scream for them to let me go, but they won't, and then Alle dives into my vision like a cloak-wearing demon.
"You can't save her!" she yells over the brutality. I call her a bitch and tell her to go to Hell and she slaps me hard enough it echoes throughout my skull. When I regain my hearing I'm not on the pavement anymore but being carried backwards, watching Garmen's corpse disappear behind rows upon rows of Pacifiers and gunfire. Run away, something primal says. It's a powerful instinct.
Without thinking I stop fighting and begin to run, my legs letting my body be dragged down the street. I catch glimpses of people I recognize – Alle of course, Ridder, Gretchen and Poppy – and a few others I don't. Probably from the bunker too. They pull me all the way back to the Cave where Barooba stands ready to let us in. Poppy push me forward and I stumble over the doorstep and fall onto my knees. All around me there are voices, but they're somewhere far away where their words can't reach me, like somewhere underwater. All I see is Garmen's lifeless body as I'm pulled away from her, as it's molested by Pacifiers and send down the sewers in jigsaw puzzle parts like the one around my neck.
And I vomit, right there on the floor. Everybody takes a step away from me.
"Why does he always do that?" I hear Poppy groan behind me.
"Where's Garmen?" Barooba asks.
"She's dead," I snarl and look up at her, still down on all four. "I killed her."
"Obviously you didn't kill her," Alle says and rolls her eyes, but her face is lightly pink and I can see in her eyes that she's not unmoved herself. Although, compared to her fiancé, she's a frikken ice statue. He's heaving for air and bending over as if he's about to vomit too, trembling all over.
"Yes, I did," I say and manage to get up on shaking legs. "She went out there because she was scared I was lying in a ditch somewhere, overdosing like Alivia."
Carrie-Ann grabs her mouth and begins sobbing, but Alle just crosses her arms. "Are we supposed to know who Olivia is?"
"Alivia," Brice says brusquely as he puts his arms around Carrie-Ann. "And she was one of us."
"I probably killed her too," I mumble. "Being murdered by me seems to be going around. Me and that stupid test have really gotten it out for some people."
"You're being ridiculous," Alle sneers at me with a sudden flash in her eyes.
"And you're being heartless!" I yell at her. "What, did your fiancé eat it or something? Is that why you never feel anything?"
Behind Alle, I see Ridder flinch.
"That's enough," Barooba says and body-blocks me from Alle.
"What, are you defending her now?" I shout. "She's the reason we're in this mess!"
"No," Barooba says. "You are. And if you'd been home when you said you were going to be home, Garmen would still be alive."
I stare at her, try to dig deep to find something which will tell me how to react, but all the power Barooba once held over me is gone. It's like realizing I've had the keys to my own handcuffs my entire life. Garmen's gone. I don't even want the gold anymore because it's contaminated with bronze. I'm actually free.
Barooba blinks. She must have seen some kind of change in my face because her eyebrows scrunch together. I send her a bitter smile before I move past her and past the rest of the bunker-people who all look at me in surprise. I'm almost stupid enough to think I'm going to make it.
Alle is the first to realize what's going on of course.
"Ridder!" she calls, and then when nothing happens, "Why are you so afraid of him?"
"I've got it," Poppy says with more excitement than I've ever heard in his voice before, and the second my hand reach out for the doorknob there is a sharp pain in the back of my head and then the sensation of falling. I'm out before I hit the ground.