Resist (RedZone) Page 15

  “Now you’re learning how to make plans, mutant.”

  Although I’d like to sit and relax while I enjoy my peppermint mocha, Kyle is anxious to call his mother but not so anxious to do it in public. I understand the sentiment, so we get our coffees to go and seek out a nearby hotel.

  With Kyle’s new fake ID and the legit credit card that goes with it, we book a room. After each throwing ourselves on one of the beds and luxuriating in the idea of a heated room and a soft pillow for the night, I decide to take a shower so Kyle can have some privacy on his call.

  Besides, after two days on the run, I really want a hot shower.

  The spray feels so good that I could stay under the water forever. Watching the shampoo disappear into the drain, I force my thoughts to turn from scrubbing the dirt under my nails to our next steps.

  I already made my own check-in text at the coffee shop. The rest of my unit has given the signal that they’ve successfully made it out of the Pittsburgh area without another ambush from RedZone. They, too, are going to hole up for a night in a real motel. It’s been twenty-four hours now without them, or us, being discovered. Though there could be several reasons for it, I hope the best one is correct—that we truly lost RedZone after the mall. If that’s the case, our trail is going to continue to get colder.

  Assuming we make it through the night without incident, we need to figure out if, when and possibly where to meet. I’m guessing Kyle is going to want to find his parents, and as much as I don’t want to leave his side, he’ll be safer if he does. Especially if the rest of us start working on a plan to take down RedZone. A plan that, at a minimum, sounds like it could take months to devise and prepare for. Maybe years.

  I close my eyes, hoping it doesn’t mean I’ll need to cut off contact with Kyle for that long, but realistically I know it would be for the best. If Kyle wants to be a part of our plans still, that’s fine. But on the way to the hotel, it sounded as if finding his parents was becoming his first priority. I can’t blame him for that. It’s the smarter move. Find them, stay safe and stay hidden.

  A knock at the bathroom door jolts me from these musings, and I hear Kyle’s voice. “Save me some soap and water, all right?”

  “Are you off the phone?”

  “I’ve been off a while. You have any idea how long you’ve been in there?”

  Reluctantly, I shut off the tap. “Fourteen minutes, six seconds. You’re forgetting I have an excellent internal clock. I was expecting you’d have a longer call.”

  “Her phone needed charging.”

  I pull open the curtain and step into the steamy room. In the fogged-up mirror, I see Kyle close the door. Should I be bothered that he no longer wants to see me naked? There was a time when that was definitely not the case. Then again, maybe he’s trying to be polite. For the sake of my ego and heart, I’ll assume it’s that.

  After I dry off, I collapse on the bed and peruse the room-service menu while Kyle showers. Hunger has been creeping up on me for hours, but I’ve been able to ignore it because we were busy. Now, not so much.

  “Room service?” Kyle asks, seeing what I’m doing. He’s put his jeans back on but no shirt, and he towel-dries his hair. Water clings to his long eyelashes and drips onto his bare shoulders, running down the contours of his chest.

  I have to turn away because I’m jealous of the water and the way it gets to caress him. “It’s safer not to go out.”

  “Fine with me. I’m exhausted anyway.” He throws the towel aside and flops on the empty bed.

  A minute passes in silence. Kyle stares at the ceiling, his tiredness evident in every line of his face. His chest rises and falls heavily, and my gaze sticks to him like glue. I’m mesmerized by those fine dark hairs that run down the planes of his stomach.

  Bad Sophia. Even if things were back to normal between us, there’s no time for these emotions or salacious thoughts.

  I drag my gaze back to the menu, but I have it memorized already so I toss it to Kyle. “Your parents are okay, I guess?” I’m assuming he’d have mentioned otherwise.

  Kyle rolls onto his stomach and idly checks the menu. “Yeah. They’re on the road. We have a fallback place. I guess you could call it a safe house.”

  “Smart.” The more I learn about Kyle’s family, the more impressed I am with the extent of the precautions they’ve taken.

  “Yeah.” He yawns. “I hoped we’d never have to go there. It’s isolated, packed with guns and bottled water and, well, you get the idea.”

  “A bunker?”

  “More or less, but it blends in with the community.” Kyle pushes his hair out of his face. “They want me to join them as soon as possible.”

  I run my finger down the floral pattern on the scratchy comforter. “It sounds like you’d be safe there. If it’s what you planned, it makes sense for you to go so you can create your new identities together.”

  He chews his lip then flings the menu aside. “Do you want me to leave?”

  That’s a loaded question, and I look over at him with a frown. “I want you to be safe. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Doesn’t answer my question.”

  I close my eyes. “Do I want you to go far away where I don’t know when I’ll see you next? No. Definitely not. And I hope I haven’t said or done anything else stupid to suggest it. I just…” I take a deep breath. “I’ve already put you in danger once. I don’t want to do it again. But it’s your choice. I don’t want you to leave, but I think you’d be safer doing it.”

  I can’t tell if that satisfies him or not. He hangs his head, and hair falls into his face. “I probably would be safer, temporarily anyway.”

  “If you agree, then maybe you should go.” The pain in my heart when I suggest it makes me wince.

  Kyle drums his fingers against the bed, staring at the comforter. “If I go, I can’t be a part of your plans for taking down RedZone. Not that I should be, I suppose. I’m not a soldier, but we’ll never be safe while they’re around. I want to do something.”

  There’s no argument I can make against that wish. Not that I’m inclined to try. Kyle’s life has been ruined by RedZone since before he was born. Just like mine. He’ll be safer if he leaves the planning and tactics to us, but he won’t be as happy.

  Safety versus happiness. Security versus freedom. These are the concepts I’ve had to grapple with since I went to RTC, and the relationships I’ve had to sort out. Cole made me feel safe. Kyle makes me feel free. There’s risk in that freedom, but like Kyle, I don’t think I can be happy without the freedom to choose it.

  I used to be content with the one until I discovered the other.

  I realize I’ve been crushing the comforter in my turmoil. “You deserve to be a part of our decisions if you want to be, but just because you’re with your parents, doesn’t mean you won’t be part of them. We can talk, you know. It’s not like phones or the Internet are off-limits. We’ll simply need to be cautious.”

  Kyle looks up at me at last. “I know, but that’s not all.”

  “What else is there?” My heart pounds. Say it’s me. Say you don’t want to leave me either.

  “I don’t want to leave you.” His expression is sheepish, and I’m lightheaded with relief. “I’ll be worried about you the whole time.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Why am I encouraging this? Selfish though it is, I don’t want to encourage this. “And I’ll have my unit around me. I couldn’t be surrounded by more badass people.”

  “Yeah.” He snorts. “Including Cole.”

  “What do you have against Cole?” I’m certain I have the answer, but I can’t stop from asking. Maybe it’s my ego again, or conversely, my insecurity. I have to hear Kyle say it.

  “Only the way he looks at you.” Kyle shrugs. “And I still think he’s selling you out to Malone. But I admit, I only started thi
nking that because…”

  I can’t take this distance between us any longer, and I glide off my bed and join Kyle on his. There’s something familiar about the way the bed shifts beneath me as I inch closer to him. He rolls onto his side, not backing away but as if inviting me to come closer. Alone at last, with at least the illusion of safety, the inches between us no longer feel like miles. They are mere inches, but there are still too many as his breath brushes my face.

  “Cole’s like a brother to me.” I swallow. I’m dizzy from this closeness and the scent of the hotel’s lemongrass soap that clings to Kyle’s skin. Words tumble from my lips. “I won’t pretend there wasn’t a time when I thought there was more to it, but that’s not true anymore. I loved Cole before I went to RTC, and I’ll always love him, but not like that. Not what you’re thinking. When I met you, I realized things could be different. You make me feel things I never felt with Cole. Things I like feeling. When I discovered you were the person Malone sent me to find at RTC, I was willing to risk everything to help you disappear. That wasn’t an easy decision, and I obviously screwed it up, but I love you and—”

  There’s no “and”. Kyle grabs my lips with his, and my brain shuts down. My world careens out of control. I pull him tighter, greedily grasping what I’ve been denied for too long and what I was afraid I’d never have again.

  It feels like he’s doing the same. He climbs on top of me, pinning me to the bed, arms wrapped around me. My fingers dig into the smooth muscles of his back. I can’t let go. Will never let go.

  Kyle slides one arm out from under me and brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You know the worst part of when Malone’s goons found me? The worst part wasn’t being captured or expecting to die horribly or even worrying about my family. I figured they would survive. The worst part was believing you’d betrayed me.”

  “I did betray you.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “Well, no. But I am responsible for the things that have happened to you.”

  Kyle puts a finger over my lips. “Don’t say it. Don’t apologize again. It wasn’t your fault, and you fixed your mistake. We escaped because of you.”

  He shouldn’t have had to escape, but I do as he asks and don’t apologize. Instead I kiss his finger, and I adjust my body, entwining my legs with his. Kyle takes the hint, and his finger disappears, replaced by the softness of his lips once more.

  It’s like old times, like being back in his dorm room when we’d have to sneak our alone time while his roommate was at class. Though Cole was the first person I ever kissed, Kyle was my first in every other way. But underlying all of our time together was a sense of danger. Back then, I didn’t know Kyle was my target, but I feared he was a threat. The risk of being with him was part of the thrill.

  That thrill is gone, replaced by something truly dangerous—the understanding of how much I need him in my life. How dependent my happiness has become on his. And the thrill I feel now is in the rejoicing that I have him back. Even if it’s only temporary. Even if our world crashes and burns again tomorrow, I can have this moment.

  I’m torn between wanting to devour the time and savoring it. Mostly, I think we end up doing the former, but that’s okay. The memory will be there for savoring.

  As long as I never, ever have a malfunctioning implant again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wednesday Evening: Two Days After Escape

  A couple hours later I’m relaxed in a way even the hot shower couldn’t manage. Our room service has arrived, and Kyle and I sit knee to knee on one of the beds, eating overpriced sandwiches.

  We’re both more beat now than we were when we arrived, and in lieu of talking, I put on the TV. At RTC, I made a habit of checking the news every day. The need to stay alert about what was going on in the world was drilled into me at the camp. Of course, the irony was that RedZone heavily restricted and monitored our ability to learn the most useful information. They wanted us to know only what they wanted us to know. The real world was quite an eye-opening experience for me in so many ways.

  Kyle and I watch in silence as a video about an environmental summit in Prague plays across the screen. Then the camera flips back to the studio anchor, and a Breaking News graphic flashes above his head.

  “Next up,” the anchor says, “is a breaking story about a possible terrorist attack at a college outside of Boston. Details are arriving now.”

  My onion ring falls from my fingers. Beneath me, the bed shifts, and I can tell Kyle has become as tense as I have. And I know—just know—which school is going to show up on the video before it begins to play.

  The screen switches to a reporter standing in front of the large sign at Robert Treat College’s main entrance. In the background is the colonial brick architecture of the administration building. Although I was expecting it, my stomach nonetheless sinks.

  “What is believed to be some kind of biological or chemical attack occurred here about an hour ago,” the reporter is saying. “Authorities are piecing together what happened, but here’s what we know so far. A little after four o’clock this afternoon, seven students at this small, liberal arts college all began experiencing similar symptoms of illness. Within minutes, onlookers say they collapsed.”

  Kyle swears.

  “The students’ names are not being released yet, but they’ve been identified as mostly sophomores and juniors. Not all were in the same location during the incident. Authorities are saying their symptoms, and the resultant comas they are currently in, bear a striking resemblance to an attack on a New York City prep school earlier this year. For that reason it is believed the incidents might be related. Unfortunately, authorities have no more information on how those students were stricken, or why only some became ill at the time, but we can tell you that the FBI and CDC are on the scene. The area is currently in lockdown for testing, and authorities are urging everyone to remain calm. Since some of the students were reportedly in crowded areas at the time they fell ill, it does not appear that whatever happened to them is spreading.”

  No, it wouldn’t spread. Not if this is the same type of biological attack that was used in New York. I’m going to be sick myself though.

  “With the school semester ending tomorrow, Robert Treat College is urging any remaining students and their families to cooperate with authorities as they pack and leave for the upcoming holiday break. Local organizations and student groups are—”

  I turn off the TV, and I clamp my lips together, trying to hold down my dinner.

  Seven students were attacked. Were targeted. I’d bet I could name them all. I’d bet Malone chose them from the list of contacts on my phone. These are my friends. Though I took that phone with me when I left and destroyed the parts that needed destroying, Malone created and paid for the account. He would have access to all the data.

  So stupid. I should have deleted it. Why didn’t I delete it? Why didn’t it seem important enough with everything else we had going on?

  I can hear Kyle breathing, and his face is pale as he turns to me. “This is them, isn’t it?”

  I nod because it takes a moment for me to find my voice. “It’s RedZone. It’s Malone. They’ve done it before, or rather they created and sold the technology for doing it to other people. Malone called the technique Project Pinpoint.”

  “What is that?”

  I cover my remaining food with room service’s metal lid. The smell is increasing my nausea. “RedZone figured out a way to create viruses that are targeted to specific people’s DNA. All they would have to do is release the virus somewhere on campus—put it in the water for all I know—and it would only affect those it was designed to hit. It’s a bio-weapon. The news got that much correct.”

  “Targeted.” I can see Kyle working through the implications.

  I don’t help him because I can’t force myself to say them aloud. Not yet. This is my fault
too. These people were targeted because they were my friends, or because Malone suspected they were. It doesn’t make much difference. They were part of my cover, and he had to assume—rightly—that I came to care about them.

  Because I’m an HY, and everyone at the camp knows us HYs are too emotional. We aren’t the perfect machines they wanted us to be, simply capable of mimicking emotions without feeling them. But I want to be that perfect right now. I want to be dead inside. I’ve gone from something like happiness to horror and guilt in the time it took a newsfeed to switch a camera.

  “So you think the people who are sick were chosen specifically?” Kyle flexes his hands.

  “Yes, and if I had to guess who they were…” I pull my knees in. “Audrey, Yen, Chase.”

  I can easily rattle off the names of ten people in our shared group of friends whose names were in my contact list. It could be any of them. It could have been all of them, except some had likely already left campus for the semester.

  Kyle swears. “We have to do something. I have to. What I told you before—it’s even more true. I want to take down Malone, Sophia. I need to destroy their whole organization.”

  “We will.” The determination hardens my despair into something more useful, but it provides no answers as to how to do it. Worse, our timetable has gotten shorter. To my knowledge, only RedZone can supply the cure that ends the comas because the cure uses the same technology as the disease, and both are years ahead of what real-world medicine can do.

  As I think it through, I realize what this means. Malone didn’t do this as petty revenge or even to draw me out. That would be too crude. He’s sending me a message, yes. But there’s a piece I’m missing. He knows I’m not dumb enough to rush back to the camp on a suicide mission after I just escaped.

  So where’s the rest of the message?

  As if in response, my phone rings. Kyle climbs off the bed and paces while I answer.

  “Soph, it’s me.” I recognize Jordan’s voice. “Can you get online?”