The Rift Uprising, page 34
“We may not like the methods. I’m sure we can all agree with that,” he begins without emotion, “but so what? Our job is to keep the world safe, at whatever cost. So far, it’s worked. You can’t argue with results. You’ve really fucked things up, Ryn. You’ve put this entire system at risk because, what? You don’t like following orders? You’re horny?”
I go to say something, but Violet jumps forward. Her face is red. I’ve rarely seen her angry. Sad, yes, frustrated, of course, but this mad? Never. “Shut up, Duncan!” Violet sputters and shakes her head. “You’re like that blond telegram boy from The Sound of Music.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
I’m kind of wondering the same thing. Count on Violet to reference a musical from the last century during a confrontation.
“Don’t front like you haven’t seen The Sound of Music. Everyone has seen The Sound of Music, and you’re the Nazi boy,” Vi hisses. This is Violet’s version of mean. In her mind I know she believes she’s opened a can of verbal whoop-ass on Duncan. In reality, her equating our situation to a musical is not doing much for our cause. Even I have to struggle not to just shrug her off.
“Did you just call me a Nazi?” Duncan steps forward and I see in that instant how the group divides itself. It’s as if someone has said, “Okay—all those who are on Ryn’s side stand over here, and everyone who feels like Duncan—the asshole Aryan bike boy—stand over there.”
“If the shoe fits,” Boone says.
“What?”
“That’s what Nazis do,” Boone says with more intensity than I’ve ever heard in his voice. “They force people from their homes. They steal. They take whatever they want because they believe they’re entitled to it. They kill. They torture. They make lampshades out of people’s skin and stick little kids in gas chambers because they’re following orders. The Nazis didn’t believe they were monsters. They believed they were saving the world. It’s a fair comparison. I mean, look at us—we are kind of the ultimate Hitler Youth Movement.”
I see Duncan’s facial features tense, but like any good Citadel, he is keeping his emotions in check. “I’m not a Nazi. I’m a hero and you’re”—he spits, looking at me—“a traitor. I’m not some mindless drone. I wouldn’t stick a kid in a fucking oven. We’re the good guys.”
For someone who claims he isn’t mindless, I have to wonder at this point if Duncan’s IQ was ramped up to our level. Besides the fact that I was talking about Nazis and not Hansel and Gretel, he totally does not get it. I step in front of Boone so that now I’m the one just inches away from Duncan. “But you would,” I argue. “You would do anything if you knew that ARC could kill you and your friends by pressing a button. You’d strangle a baby. You’d rape a woman to death if the Blood Lust got you. We are dangerous. We are too dangerous. And you’re going to stand there like a good little soldier and call yourself a hero because you’re too dumb or too afraid to see the truth?”
Duncan nods his head. I see some of his supporters shuffle away from him and on to our side, but not everyone, and my heart sinks. I’m so frustrated I want to shake them all. Then, faster than I can react to, Duncan backhands me. This is a gesture of defiance, a show of strength meant to embarrass, not hurt me. Still, I feel the blood pool in my mouth from where my incisor has cut the inside of my lip. I don’t even bother to say anything. With the same speed, I haul back and punch him in the face. I punch him so hard that his body flies up and out at least ten feet.
Discussion time is over after that.
The group explodes. There are far more Citadels on our side, but Duncan’s faction has a lot of muscle. It’s Vi who launches first, at a beefy girl named Jessica who has at least half a foot and fifty pounds on her. I know this doesn’t matter. Violet is so quick and lithe that Jessica doesn’t have a chance. Violet leaps, kicking the bigger girl straight in the throat.
Meanwhile, Duncan has gotten his bearings. He flips himself up with his hands and lunges toward me. I know that Henry’s and Boone’s first reactions are going to be to protect me, but I also know that I have to fight Duncan and win if I want control of his supporters. I step forward, toward his charge, letting Henry and Boone know that I have this. Then, before Duncan can get to me, I spin away and elbow him in the back. I’m sure he doesn’t feel this through his uniform, but this is just as much a pissing contest as anything else. I am not going to be so easy to catch. Before he can turn fully around to face me, I catch a glimpse of Ezra. He’s no coward, but he knows wisely to stay out of the fray. “Run toward The Rift!” I manage to yell at him, but the break in concentration costs me. Duncan lands a strong uppercut to my jaw. I bite my tongue—for the second time today—and spit blood out on the ground.
I hope I get out of here with it all in one piece.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Ezra race toward the shimmering tower at the edge of the field. I have to bait Duncan toward The Rift now. He tries to land another hit, but I parry. I punch and he blocks me. We dance this way for a good thirty seconds, our fists moving so fast that I feel like I’m fighting on instinct alone. He’s trying to get me away from The Rift, but he can’t outmatch my speed. If he doesn’t want to be hit, then he has to move in the direction my feet are taking us.
I finally manage to catch one of his wrists in a failed attempt at a jab. I squeeze down on the bone as hard as I can and twist it back until I hear a snap. It’s broken. Duncan is at a major disadvantage now and he knows it. He screams, not in pain but anger. He kicks me in the stomach and I sail into the air. It knocks the wind out of me more than it hurts. He’s also managed to kick me in the wrong direction. I fix this by doing a massive handspring up and over him so that now I’m facing The Rift.
A light rain begins to fall; thousands of delicate slivers of water jump from the clouds. I know that in a few moments those slivers will become an icy sheet. Autumn rain in the Pacific Northwest doesn’t fall in big fat drops. Soon the ground will be a muddy slick and my visibility will worsen. I have a second or two before Duncan throws the next punch to take in what’s happening. It is eerily silent on the field. Our punches and kicks are muffled by our suits. For the most part we don’t scream or grunt as other fighters might. We have been trained to fight like ghosts. Invisible hands reach out and grab throats, our bodies twist and leap with the ease of something carried on the wind. And yet, even though the only thing I hear is the thud of a Citadel thrown against a tree or the splinter of a bone under one of our boots, it is absolute mayhem.
Duncan lunges for me and instead of dodging him, I meet his force. I take a step forward and kick out, nailing him hard in the pelvis. He rallies, returning quickly, and with his good arm tries to get me in a choke hold. I’m guessing, based on his size and weight, his specialty is jujitsu, which is all about getting someone down to the ground. His center of gravity is so low that he can inflict the most damage to his opponent when they are on the floor, like a wrestler. I cannot let him get me there.
I manage to break free of his choke hold and swing around, rolling over his back to deliver another blow to his side. Duncan falls to one knee and I see my opening. I keep kicking in short, powerful bursts to keep him from flying and also so that I know, even through the suit, I’m doing damage. I get a good one off to his face, and his mouth explodes with blood. I go to kick again, but he surprises me by reaching around with his good hand and holding on to my leg. I struggle to break free quickly because in this position, it would be easy enough for him to break my leg. I arch backward and plant my hands on the increasingly muddy ground. I use the one free foot I have to slide under his knee and throw him off balance. He wobbles and falls but doesn’t release my leg. I push off with my hands, using a fair bit of strength to throw us both up and back into an awkward cartwheel.
The maneuver works, and Duncan has been thrown clear, but he quickly scrambles to where I have landed in a crouch and manages to get me down on my side. I look over and see another Citadel lying unmoving on the ground five feet away from me. He’s one of the younger ones, a year or two even younger than me. I don’t really recognize him. I have no idea whether or not he was one of Duncan’s or mine.
I hate this.
With his good hand, Duncan tries to throw a punch, and because I’m thrown by the boy in the mud, by the blood on his face and his neck, which is lying at an obviously unnatural angle, Duncan’s punch lands squarely in my eye. I kick out and grab Duncan by his bad wrist and his other fist before he can punch me again. I throw his body behind me and flip around to sit on his neck, keeping his legs restrained by leaning back and shoving them into the ground with my hands. He can punch me with his uninjured arm, but through my suit he won’t do any damage. I squeeze around his face with my thighs. “Stop this, Duncan!” I yell. “We’re going to kill each other.”
His face is an atlas of bruises. I’ve won this fight and I don’t see why he can’t accept that. “Of course we are,” he spits back at me. “What in the fuck did you think was going to happen here?”
I look around, trying to see my friends, my team. They are all deep in combat. Ezra is standing as close as possible to The Rift. Henry has gotten close to him, protecting him as best he can while fighting, literally, for his life. Still, Duncan’s question unnerves me. I thought there might be a scuffle. I assumed some Citadels would be more difficult to win over than others. I even allowed that one or two would be fanatical like Audrey, but not this many.
I never thought in a million years it would be so bad. This whole episode out here strikes me as ridiculous and very, very wrong. I squeeze harder, keeping Duncan’s face between my legs like a vise. His skin is getting purple. “Nobody else has to die—so enough,” I scream in his face. “We are smart, we can find a way to work through this.” I feel Duncan stop struggling beneath me. There is hatred in his eyes, but he knows that he’s been beaten. As I said to him before, with us, it’s self-preservation at all costs.
“Okay,” he manages to wheeze out, and I release him. I stand over him and offer him my hand to help him up, which he bats away. “Just get away from me.”
I open my mouth to say something else, to try to convince him that I’m right, but I stop myself. The truth didn’t work. Fighting didn’t work. There has to be another way to get these Citadels back on our side.
I step away from him, toward Ezra. I wonder if Edo will know what to do. If everyone was conditioned to believe ARC’s propaganda, then I suppose they can be reconditioned to see it for the bullshit it is. I hate the idea of brainwashing my peers again, but I’m running out of options. Now I’m worried about the remaining Citadels who have yet to hear my story. How will my team handle telling them? And how can we trust them once we do? I wonder, and not unreasonably so, if the Roones have some kind of test to verify whether someone is telling the truth, some way of watching our brains light up like a pinball machine if we are lying.
Watching all this chaos around me only strengthens my resolve to go. I may be a hero to some Citadels, but after what just happened with Duncan, I realize that some truly see me as the enemy. It’s best that I take a step back for a little while and let the other, less polarizing Citadels push forward.
Perhaps more than that, I’m tired. I’m done fighting. My head hurts. The skin on my knuckles is raw. I cannot take a full breath; one of my ribs is cracked. I look down at Duncan. His hand is covering his face. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. Does he realize now that he’s been used horribly? Or was it truly hatred I saw in his eyes? How can he think I’m a traitor for not wanting to be a weapon? It’s too much. It’s time for me to go. Ezra and The Rift are close, maybe thirty feet. He’s as near to it as I’ve ever seen anyone, though he has his back to it. He’s been watching me this whole time, probably worried out of his mind, feeling helpless knowing that there was nothing he could do. His mission was to keep the packs and equipment safe. Every time he had to witness Duncan hit me must have killed him. He’s smart, though. He knew that if he tried to get involved he would have put both of our lives in danger.
The Citadels are still fighting. I walk briskly to Ezra. I get close enough to read the relief on his face. We’re going to get out of here, together. I’m almost there.
And then in an instant, a split second, everything goes to shit. Levi leaps into the air from out of nowhere, like he’s been shot out of a cannon. He pushes Ezra hard. He pushes him with such force that Ezra goes flying into The Rift. I don’t even have time to register what has truly happened because Levi tackles me to the ground, and that’s when I hear the shot go off. I look over my shoulder to see Duncan, still on his back in the mud but with his one good arm extended out, the gun pointed right where I had been standing. Levi rolls me over so that the second shot Duncan takes misses us both. We scramble up to our feet, ready to dodge another bullet, but that’s not what happens. Instead, Duncan’s arm drops. I look around and watch as the other Citadels in his group fall one by one. I’ve seen many things over the years in this job, but nothing, I don’t think, as disturbing as this is. One minute they are fighting, alive, wondrous even, in their fury.
The next, they are gone without warning, just bodies on the ground.
The faction of Citadels who remain look around, stunned. Before I left Levi at Command, I told him to call Edo. I know in an instant this was her doing. Her choice has taught me a horrific lesson: The Citadels aren’t nearly as important to the Roones as I thought they were, and this terrifies me. She must have been watching the whole time, carefully gathering the names of those against us so that she could enact the Midnight Protocol. I have no idea why she did this. Was it Duncan’s gun? Was it all the other Citadels on my “side” that she was protecting, or was it just me? Whatever the reasoning, this will never happen again. I will remove every implant, in every Citadel, myself—today, if I have to. Ezra and I . . .
I bury my face in my hands. It finally hits me that Ezra is gone. I stare into The Rift. I look at Levi and I just want to kick him, but I can’t. Edo’s hand could very well still be on the kill switch and I’m not about to lose another Citadel, even one I’m furious with. Beta Team comes running toward me. Maybe they expect some kind of explanation as to why I was going to leave with Ezra. I don’t feel like explaining myself to anyone right now. “Henry,” I say with gentle authority, “divide the remaining Citadels up. You and Boone need to go back to the base and secure it with one group and then round everyone up, civilians and military, and put them in the training arena. I’ll be there in a few to talk to them. Vi, you need to stay here with another group to defend The Rift.” The three of them stand there looking at me as if they are waiting for me to say something else. Instead I say, “Go,” with more intensity and volume in my voice.
Surprisingly, they hustle to do as I’ve ordered. When Boone tries to pick up one of the dead Citadels, I stop him. “Don’t do that. Put her down,” I tell him authoritatively. “The next shift will be arriving at the base soon. I want them to see what ARC can do to us if we don’t assume command.”
Boone puts the girl down gently; her eyes remain open, staring lifelessly at the opaque sky.
I just stand there among the corpses with Levi as my friends organize the remaining troops. Boone and Henry head toward the base with a large group. Violet reforms teams and places them all back into position. She joins Kappa Team on point behind the rock closest to The Rift. A better, more experienced leader might have gone with Boone and Henry right away to deal with the bunker, but I don’t feel entirely connected to my own body. I need a moment to let the enormity of what’s just happened sink in. I don’t feel responsible for these deaths. That fault lies squarely on ARC’s shoulders and, to a lesser degree, on Edo’s. But there’s no denying that they would all be alive if I hadn’t started this. I need to sit with the idea that I am both entirely to blame and not at all to blame for what has happened here.
I wince as I try to take a deep breath. I turn my back on the dead soldiers around me and cross my arms. Once again, I stare into The Rift and ignore the way it’s tugging at my gut. I can feel Levi’s eyes on me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Ryn,” Levi says softly. I still can’t even look at him, let alone share my thoughts. I don’t say anything. I hear him sigh loudly. “Don’t do this, don’t shut me out,” he warns. “If you had just been honest with me. If you had come to me from the beginning, then all of this could have been avoided.”
I grit my teeth, which hurts. My jaw must be bruised. “Don’t go there, Levi. Don’t you dare. There was no avoiding this.” I finally turn to face him. “All of this,” I say, sweeping my arms out, gesturing to the fallen Citadels and the blood on the field, “would have happened eventually. ARC needs to be brought down. That means war.”
“But if you had just told me, we could have come up with a plan. Jesus, Ryn.” He sighs in frustration. “I know what you think of me, but look at what I’ve done for you! I let you deal with those thugs who tried to rape my sister. I helped you get into the Village. How much more proof do you need?”
I look at him, truly baffled. “Proof of what?” I ask, my mouth gaping. By way of an answer, Levi just shakes his head and purses his lips as if I should totally get it. I throw up my hands. “I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about. The only proof I have when it comes to you is that while you are an excellent Citadel, you are as mean as a snake and probably the angriest and most judgmental person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not this way with everyone, you moron!”
“What are you? Six years old? I can’t believe you want to get into this right now, but it’s so typical. Levi,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster, “this is war,” I tell him, desperate to get through.
“But you were just going to leave with him! Is that how you think you’re going to win a war? I don’t believe you. You were going to run away and leave us with this colossal mess to clean up.”
