The Q, page 26
Lennon almost laughed. That was an understatement.
Jonathan’s confusion intensified.
“But, listen, I need for you to let us go, because we have to get to the gate in…” Maisie trailed off as she checked her watch. “Jesus. Less than fifteen minutes.”
“No,” Jonathan said.
“No?” Lennon repeated.
“No.” He pointed at Maisie. “I’ll let you go, as a thank-you for that stupid stunt you just pulled. The future president’s son stays with me, however.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want him.” He shrugged, like obviously. Lennon met Ethan’s eyes briefly. He gave Ethan a sympathetic look, because while this might have been a real shit situation, the guy had a real shit father.
“He’s no good to anyone on this side of the wall.”
“Are you kidding? He’s gold. No one will touch the Q while he’s in here. And all I have to do is lightly threaten to do terrible things to him on occasion and I can get whatever I want.”
“They don’t negotiate with terrorists on the other side of the wall.”
Jonathan waved his hand. “They just say that. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”
Ethan was staring at Lennon in a weirdly intense way, and Lennon raised his eyebrows, silently asking what was going on. Ethan just barely nodded his head down, to where he was holding something in his hand.
It was one of Ivy’s smoke bombs.
Lennon saw Ethan’s thumb move.
He drove his elbow back into his attacker’s stomach, as hard as he could.
Smoke filled the room.
MAISIE
THROUGH THE SMOKE, Maisie saw the outline of Lennon as he ran for her. She held out her hand, grabbing his and breaking into a sprint.
Gunfire echoed around her. She heard a man yell out in pain.
Jonathan Spencer was shooting despite his own men being in the line of fire.
She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Ethan. She hoped he was okay. She hoped his father hadn’t seen him throw that smoke bomb.
Light streamed across her face as they bolted outside. She let go of Lennon’s hand as they picked up the pace.
“That way!” She pointed right, and they ducked around a building and onto another street.
Footsteps pounded the pavement behind her.
“Stop them! Someone stop them!” a voice yelled.
She pushed forward, flying down the street. They turned a corner. The back of the compound loomed ahead of them, a stone wall about fifteen feet high. They just had to manage to get over it and they’d be in the clear to the gate.
“Go!” she panted to Lennon. “Just run as fast as you can.” She knew he was going slower for her.
“No!”
Someone fired a gun, and they both tensed. She ran as fast as her legs could take her.
“Dammit, Lennon,” she wheezed. She zigzagged as she heard more gunfire, trying to make herself a difficult target. Lennon did the same.
They were at the wall. She skidded to a stop and grabbed the stone, ignoring the scream of pain from her left hand.
One, two, three steps and she was up. A bullet whizzed by her ear.
She heard the sound of Lennon hitting the other side.
She jumped.
Her feet hit the ground.
On the other side, someone cursed.
They’d made it.
“Jesus.” Lennon took several quick steps away from the wall, breathing heavily. “What time is it?”
She checked her watch, letting out a sigh. “We made it with eight minutes to spare.”
“Jesus,” he said again, and then blew out a breath.
She looked past him. They were only a few yards from the gate. It was high—as high as the wall—and solid steel. Lights and cameras were mounted on top of it.
“Well,” she said, her breathing beginning to slow. “I guess this is it.”
He pushed a hand through his hair, and she watched with amusement as it fell awkwardly, one piece sticking up.
“What?” he asked.
“You have the most ridiculous hair, you know that?”
“I do. It’s part of my charm.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
His smile faltered a little, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you. For getting me here. And just…for everything.”
“Sure,” she said quietly.
“Know that the only reason I’m not asking for you to come with me again is because I understand now how stupid it was to think you ever would,” he said. His hand brushed hers, and she let her fingers slide between his. “Not because I don’t desperately want you to.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to leave the Q, but I do want to go with you, if you want to know the truth.”
He nodded, a small smile crossing his face. “I…” He trailed off, and didn’t finish whatever he was going to say.
She slipped her hand out of his and nodded at the gate. “You should go.”
He didn’t move for a moment, but then took a small step back, turning toward the gate.
Then he jumped back, grabbed her around the waist, and kissed her.
She looped her arms around his neck, letting the fingers of her good hand tangle in his hair. He pulled her closer, until her body was pressed to his.
She’d almost wanted him not to kiss her, because she didn’t want to know how great it would be. It almost seemed better to just wonder, instead of knowing for sure exactly what she’d be missing when he was gone.
Now she knew. She knew the feel of his lips against hers, the warmth of his hand pressed against her back, the way he kissed her like it was the only thing in the world he’d ever wanted to do.
She wasn’t sorry that she knew, but she was going to miss him so much more now. She was going to miss everything that could have been.
When he pulled away, she stepped back, because she might start kissing him again if she stayed too close.
“Go,” she said.
“I…” He looked over his shoulder.
“Seriously, go,” she said with a laugh. “You’re making me nervous.”
His lips curved into a sad half-smile. He nodded, and took a step back.
“Bye, Maisie.”
He turned and walked to the gate.
LENNON
THE GATE OPENED as Lennon approached it. It slid open slowly, and his heart pounded as it did.
The first thing he saw was the man in the hazmat suit.
Behind him was the secondary gate, the chain-link fence in front of the Q gate.
Beyond that was wide-open space, and then a sea of reporters. Lights flashed furiously.
Farther back, a crowd of spectators were gathered behind yet another fence. They held signs of support. A giant countdown clock had been set up, like this was some kind of sporting event. He looked away, uncomfortable.
The man in the hazmat suit approached him with a swab. “Open your mouth,” he ordered. Lennon did.
He swabbed his cheek, and then turned and walked to a cart with an open testing kit in it.
Lennon glanced over his shoulder. Maisie stood only a few paces back, looking out at the flashing lights.
“Mr. Pierce,” the man in the hazmat suit said. Lennon returned his attention to him. “Your results will just take a minute. In the meantime, let me explain what’s going to happen.”
Lennon nodded numbly.
“If you’re negative for the virus, you will be getting into that SUV over there.” The man pointed to the left of the reporters, where a black SUV waited.
Lennon squinted at the familiar figures. “Are those my parents?”
“Yes. Mr. Pierce, focus. If you don’t do as I say, those men over there may shoot you.”
Right. He snapped his attention back to the man.
“I have a hazmat suit for you. You cannot cross the fence until you put it on, do you understand me?”
Lennon nodded.
“You’ll put on the hazmat suit, and once it’s on, you may step foot outside the Q. Not before that. You got it?”
“I got it.”
“The CDC has specified that we are not to open that fence if it’s past eight a.m., andddd…” He peered at the screen on his kit, and then smiled at Lennon. “Looks like you’re going to make it with four minutes to spare, Mr. Pierce. Negative.”
Lennon blinked at him. He probably should have felt relieved. He didn’t, really.
The man put the suit in his arms. Maisie still stood in the distance behind him. She lifted a hand in a hesitant wave.
The man began rolling his cart away. Lennon took a step toward the fence.
“Hazmat suit on before you cross!” the man yelled.
“I…I know.” He turned. “Can I say something first? To the cameras?”
The man made an amused noise. “I’m sure they’d love that. As long as you don’t cross the fence line without the suit on, you’re fine.”
Lennon looked back again at Maisie. She stood right where the gate had opened, watching him.
“He’s gold. No one will touch the Q while he’s in here.” Jonathan Spencer’s words echoed in his head. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t wrong.
He approached the fence, still holding the hazmat suit. He put it down on the ground.
“Lennon, are you okay?”
“Lennon, what took so long? Why—”
“Lennon, can you tell us about your time—”
The reporters shouted questions. They stretched microphones on long poles over his head.
He turned to find his parents. They were behind the wall of soldiers, but he could see them both, holding hands, peering anxiously in his direction.
The cameras started flashing wildly, and he looked over his shoulder. Maisie had taken a couple of steps inside, closer to him. The man in the hazmat suit said something to her, pointing to the fence. She nodded.
He turned back to the reporters. They were still shouting questions. He took a breath.
“I—” He stopped. Everyone had gone immediately silent.
Thank you all so much for support! Everyone was so kind to me inside the Q, and I can’t wait to tell you all about what it was like inside. I met the most wonderful people. In fact, there’s one right there. Thank you so much to Maisie Rojas for making sure I got here in time!
The speech was right there. That’s what he should say. He should say it, and smile, and put on the hazmat suit. They’d cheer, and clap for Maisie, and there’d be a picture of her at the top of every news site in an hour. That would go over very well with people, because she was pretty, and they’d like that nice, pretty picture of the Q.
His parents would be proud, and his sisters would tease him about how cheesy he’d been, but really, they’d be proud too. His dad’s campaign—or “transition team” now—would be delighted. Cal would have him on every news show as soon as his quarantine period was over. Before then, actually. He’d do some virtual interviews as soon as possible.
Life would be hectic, but then his dad would be president in January, he’d go back to Yale next fall, and eventually people would stop asking about it so much. It would be that story he told at parties, about those wild three days he spent in the Q.
It was easy, that choice.
It was also wrong.
“When I was dropped in the Q, the only thing I wanted was to get out,” he called. The reporters leaned forward. The spectators had gone still, lowering their signs.
“I wanted out, even though I knew that no one gets out. No one ever has. Until now, I guess.”
Everyone cheered, misunderstanding.
“I’m allowed to leave. He just said my test is negative.” He pointed at the man in the hazmat suit, who waved as the crowd cheered again.
The countdown clock showed less than two minutes.
Below it, his parents were both smiling.
“I thought that it was my responsibility to get out, and to tell all of you what it’s like inside. That it isn’t what you think. That it isn’t some scary hellhole full of criminals. And that’s true. It’s not.” He paused. “But maybe that’s not my responsibility here.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Maisie. She was watching him, a tiny smile on her face.
She didn’t look surprised.
A grin spread across his face as he turned back to the crowd. “No one leaves the Q, right? Those are the rules.”
The crowd didn’t cheer this time. The smiles fell from his parents’ faces. His mom shook her head. He couldn’t hear her, but her lips formed the words Lennon, no.
He laughed. He’d heard those words so many times, from both of his parents.
“For years, no one has left the Q. I’m not special. I’m just a guy who got here a little late. But I’m here now, and the rules apply to me, too. So, I’m staying.”
Confused murmurs went through the crowd.
“Lennon, no!” He could actually hear his mom this time. He wished Caroline and Stella were here, so he could see their faces when he did this.
But he was pretty certain they’d be proud.
He took a step back from the fence. He pointed to the countdown clock, which now showed: 00:00:00. He lifted his arms in a shrug.
“Sorry,” he said, smiling as cameras began flashing again. “Time’s up.”
He waved at his parents, who were gaping at him. “Congrats on winning the election, Dad! If you need me, I’ll be in here!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. A few people started cheering.
He turned. Maisie was grinning now. He ran to her.
“Gate closing!” someone yelled.
The cheers grew louder. Lennon grabbed Maisie around the waist, and they took a few quick steps backward together. The gate banged closed.
“Seriously?” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “After I worked so hard to get you here on time?”
“Yeahhh.” He put a hand on her cheek. “Sorry about that.”
She rose up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. “I think I can forgive you.”
He smiled, kissing her again.
“I do have bad news, though,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Now we have to go all the way back down south.”
WEEKLY UPDATE WITH MAISIE ROJAS
HEY THERE, FOLKS, Maisie Rojas here with your weekly Q update.
It’s been a hell of a few weeks, but I’m pleased to report that things are finally running as usual over at the hospital. If you’ve been putting off your scans, please make sure to head on over there soon. They’re ready for you.
In other news, I am supposed to tell you to stop shooting down drones from the US. They are not amused by it. To quote this dude I talked to yesterday, “Those cost more than your house!” He has never seen my house, so I guess he’s just assuming.
On the other hand, I don’t actually care, and the drones are sort of creepy, so do whatever. Just try to shoot them in areas where the debris won’t hurt anyone.
Some good news—we finally got the food shipment from the north, so everyone who has been asking me about soda and those weird sour candies can stop bugging me now. We’re also working on a deal with the US to get food dropped directly into the south, so I will keep you all updated on that.
For all you kids, we’re starting a video exchange program with kids in the US. Far less creepy than drones. Sign up with our newest addition to the Q, Lennon Pierce.
And we’re trying another joint broadcast with the US tomorrow, so get ready for that. This one will feature Hadley Lopez, joined by Lennon. Should be very exciting.
Lennon: Is exciting the word? What are we even talking about tomorrow?
Maisie: I don’t know, it’s your broadcast!
Lennon: I should probably figure that out, huh?
Maisie: Either figure it out or Hadley will start telling some stories that no one should hear, on either side of the wall.
Lennon: On it.
Well, that’s it for me. Tune in tomorrow to find out if Lennon and Hadley know what they’re doing.
Stay safe and healthy out there, Q. Until next week, Maisie Rojas, signing off.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The road to The Q was a long, weird one, complicated by a real-life global pandemic that I thought would surely doom this book. Thank you to:
Emmanuelle Morgen, who believed in The Q when I didn’t and wouldn’t let me give up, even though I kept trying.
My editor, Emily Easton, and Claire Nist, for your excellent insight, which made this book so much better. I especially appreciate how you both wanted me to add more romance. Happy to oblige.
The whole team at Penguin Random House for working to get this book into the hands of readers.
My sister, Laura, and Emma and Daniel, who had to listen to me complain about my pandemic book during a global pandemic. You’re all very patient.
My parents, for the support during a strange couple of years and not getting mad when I moved across the country (again).
And a huge thank-you to all the readers who have supported me through the years and who keep picking up my books. You’re the best.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Tintera is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous novels for young adults, including the Reboot and Ruined series and All These Monsters, a YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults selection, and its sequel, All These Warriors. She earned degrees in journalism and film and worked in Hollywood before becoming an author. Raised in Austin, Texas, she frequently sets her novels in the Lone Star State, but now lives in Los Angeles, where there’s far less humidity but not nearly enough Tex-Mex.
