Not Your Backup, page 6
Emma looks the tomato over, thinking about all the times Bells has shared his food with her since the first time they met over snacks in kindergarten. She looks at the rows and rows of vegetables in this greenhouse alone, food enough to feed a small town, food grown with care and love in a region where it was once thought impossible to grow food even before the Disasters. The lack of food, the lack of arable land to grow it on— that was what truly devastated the world, not the environmental catastrophes or the X29 flare, but the wars fought over dwindling resources. Here, Grassroots has been working on a solution all this time. “That’s amazing. You do this for the Nevada region?”
Bells shakes his head. “Nope! Grassroots is all over the Collective! It’s a multi-region operation, and we’re also loosely affiliated with similar organizations around the world.”
Emma’s heart swells with pride at what Bells’ family has accomplished. “We should tell my mom, I mean, she’d think it was awesome that you’re helping feed people directly.”
“No,” Bells says immediately. “The Council can’t know. I’m sorry. It’s been such a huge secret and part of our lives—”
“I understand, but she’s been trying to work from within Regulations for years, trying to fix the laws. And she’s been on our side about the whole League thing; I’m sure that she’d understand.”
“Right, but Grassroots isn’t just my organization. Tons of people depend on us for affordable produce all over the country. And not just us, there’s a whole secret network of farmers and people working to make food available.”
Emma nods, watching a few older robots—MR-399’s, she thinks—with long, slender arms, wheeling along the aisles in the greenhouse, meticulously watering and pruning plants. “So Grassroots is everywhere?”
“All twenty-four regions,” Bells says proudly. “My parents are just a part of this.”
Emma looks up. “I love it. If you talk to your parents, I think they should talk to my mom because she introduced this produce bill last year. I don’t know the specifics of it, but I think she definitely wanted to give local farmers the option to sell directly to markets in their region if they want to.” She tilts her head, taking in Bells’ proud smile as he regards the rows and rows of crops. She’s seeing the Broussards in a new light. The anti-government paranoia and all those family quirks were actually hiding this huge project right under the noses of the Collective. It’s a great cause, and Emma can see why they do it, but they shouldn’t have to do it this way.
“That would be cool,” Bells says. “Grassroots has been so secretive for so long— even I didn’t know the location of Clairborne until last week.” He stands up a little taller, shoulders squaring with pride. “My parents figured I was ready for the responsibility. And then the first time I talked to them about bringing you and the Resistance in— they’re all for it. You know, while we meet with the rest of the Resistance in the old Villain’s Guild hideout, we can ask my dad to set up a meeting with the Grassroots leadership. And then you can tell them the plan and ask to use their communication network and everything.”
Emma nods. This is the best idea they’ve had in forever. She’s only a little bit jealous that it’s not her idea.
Ch. 5…
Returning to the Rockies hideout takes planning, especially since all the new members of their fledgling Resistance chapter want to come with them. Bells hasn’t heard from his dad, who’s in the Louisiana region on Grassroots business, but Emma’s itching for action anyway, so the timing works for their trip north. Thomas and Kyle offer to maintain the headquarters, and everyone is excited at the prospect of new missions. Emma convinces everyone there’s no reason to risk Cal and Michelle or any new members since their identities haven’t been compromised and they should continue to go about their regular lives while carrying out the original mission—spreading the word.
Emma hugs her mothers, rolls her eyes as they press kisses to her cheeks, and then hugs her abuelas and all her aunties and cousins and everyone gathered in front of the house to say goodbye.
“Call us every day,” Abuela Isabella insists, patting her hands.
“You know that I can’t,” Emma says.
“I know,” Mom says, hugging her again. “I hate it.” She gestures to her wife to come forward. Emma wonders if they’ve talked about Emma’s plans for the Resistance, about their reluctance to let her go.
“I know that this is important to you,” Mama says, kissing her forehead. “And I’m happy to see you so passionate about fighting back against this corruption. Just promise me that you remember why you’re fighting, and that we’re fighting too. Maybe not in ways you understand, or as fast as you would like, but believe me, we’re doing the work.”
“I know,” Emma says, hugging her close. “So remember, when I check in, it’ll probably be brief and it won’t be secure—”
“Got it,” Mom says. “We’ll be really obvious and in code.”
Mama frowns. “Are you sure you’ll be done before P019? I’m not sure about all of these shelters and claims that these shields will actually work protecting the cities. It would be best if you just got out of the impact zone.”
“We’ll be fine; we’re traveling well ahead of the P019 impact event,” Emma says, hugging her mothers goodbye.
Tia Rosa sniffs. “Are you sure? I hear that the shield constructions for those Regions impacted will create travel restrictions—”
Emma kisses her on both cheeks and then continues with Abuela Isabella and Abuela Carmen.
“Impact zone,” Abuela Carmen scoffs. “What’s a few meteors falling to earth?”
Mama shakes her head “P019 is a serious threat. Those meteors will knock pre-Collective military satellites to Earth; it’s a good thing Emma planned to travel well before it even begins.”
“Meteors! I’ve survived a World War and the Disasters! I’m not scared of any space rock. Emma, do you believe this nonsense?”
Emma laughs; she loves her family so much, especially her stubborn great-grandmother. An entire swath of the North American Collective is preparing for potential impact, and here is Abuela Carmen laughing in the face of it. Emma’s pretty sure a lot of the danger is hyped up, since most of the impact zone is Unmaintained land. Like Hopestar, which has been boasting about New Bright City’s repulsion shields, many Regions in the zone are adopting protections to brace for the falling space debris.
The impact has been predicted for November; now, on the cusp of summer’s end, it seems so far away. It seems ridiculous to plan to stay in one safe place for the months to come, as so many Collective citizens are doing, forgoing out-of-Region travel long before any meteors crash to Earth. Emma’s sure she and her friends can accomplish their goals and bring the Resistance together well before then. There’s no need to worry about shelter right now; they’ve got too much to do. The new plan with Grassroots will work. Emma is sure of it.
Everything on Emma’s preparation list has been checked and double-checked, and they’re just about ready to join everyone at the Villain’s Guild Rocky Mountain headquarters.
Ricky is nervous; Tanya and Sasha are curious. Emma guesses having grown up on stories of villains and then having to shift their entire worldview takes some getting used to.
Emma watches as the 3D printer churns out the last DED-lookalike. The slim wristlet mimics the look of a data exchange device and carries out a few basic functions, such as storing credits so they can purchase things without drawing suspicion.
“Did we just hack money?” Ricky asks, his eyes gleaming. He turns his wrist back and forth so the device catches in the light. “How many credits are on here? Can I get more?”
“No, it’s real money.” Emma rolls her eyes. “I rerouted it from my account. It should be enough for disguises, food, and the train tickets.”
Sasha suggested using punk makeup to avoid being spotted by facial recognition software. It’s music festival season, and there are plenty of punks on the train with their faces already painted in geometric designs. The alternative movement sprung up around music and found a growing audience in the past few years, and it’s not uncommon to see people, especially teenagers, adopt the look.
“I think we look awesome. Very punk,” Bells says, smiling at his reflection in the train window. Against his dark skin, the makeup looks great: a few triangles and pixelated square blocks all dusted with glitter that complements the bold colors of the makeup like an abstract cubist painting.
Emma nods. “We look like we’re going to a concert. Sasha, what band did you say was our cover again?”
“The Limitless is on tour right now, which is perfect,” Sasha says. “It’s all in the write-up.”
Sasha prepared an overview of the punk movement for everyone to review. Emma isn’t sure anyone will question them about which singer left which band when, but it might be good to know, just in case. And, the punk fans might be good recruits for the Resistance; the music is all about questioning authority. It’s funny that the Collective so strict about regulating movies and books and shows and popular pop artists, but they don’t pay attention at all to indie musicians and the movements around them. Emma’s already crafting an outreach plan.
“It’s kinda weird, but whatever works,” Ricky says. He’s done the minimum necessary to confuse the software with a few pixels scattered across his cheek; he flatly refused glitter.
The landscape flies by. The North American Collective disappears into a vague, seamless blur as they continue north to Middleton, where the car they used on their run from Andover is hidden just outside of town. Emma still has vivid nightmares about that run. She remembers everything: the whirr of the pursuing MR-D4Rs, the cold intonation of the bots as they demanded surrender, the constant fear spiking her veins, Bells saving them and falling unconscious for three days. When Genevieve found them and led them to the hideout, Emma thought nothing of abandoning the vehicle, figuring the Villain’s Guild would have plenty of resources. She wasn’t entirely wrong; they were set up with food and shelter, but no one was prepared to make any change outside of their bubble.
Bells and Tanya are already asleep. Ricky is looking for the snack cart, and Sasha is in her own world listening to music. Emma settles into her seat, listening to the conversation flowing around her. The commuter train is filled with people traveling between Vegas and Middleton and talking about the usual: work and families and businesses and, of course, the Heroes’ League of Heroes.
“Sublimate’s powers are awesome—”
“Yeah, I’m so excited Aerial City finally has a new hero. Tree Frog was terrible…”
Emma doesn’t know any of the heroes they’re gossiping about. Sublimate? Medusa? Stoic? I’ve never heard of them. Where did they come from?
Without a connection to the Net, Emma can’t do any research. She tries to sleep, but her mind is spinning: thinking of plans, thinking about the Resistance, thinking about Bells.
Bells’ arm is wrapped securely around her, and she fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. It’s familiar and new at the same time: the solid weight of him holding her. They’ve fallen asleep together before, at sleepovers and on that wild journey to find the Registry. That seemed so long ago, when they slept under the soft canopy of trees. Then she didn’t think anything of sharing space and warmth by curling around each other. She’s not sure what it means now that they’re in a relationship.
Bells presses a kiss to her forehead, and Emma stirs. She thought he was asleep. Afraid to break the spell that’s fallen over them, she keeps her breathing even and her eyes closed.
“I’m so happy we’re together,” Bells whispers. “I love you.”
And then, slowly, his breaths take on a soft, easy rhythm, and Emma opens her eyes to watch him sleep. “I love you too,” she says. The words hang in the air, as if they’re waiting to sink into Bells’ skin, waiting for recognition.
Emma’s said it before, sure— to her moms, to her abuela and everyone in her family, and, of course, to her friends. She’s certainly said it to Bells before, many times. But she wonders if it’s all changed: the way he thinks about her, what he’s expecting from her, and the way he loves her now. Emma does love Bells, too, but she knows it might be different. She thinks about love and relationships and thinks about Bells’ love for her and wonders if there’s another direction for them to grow into.
They scatter at the Middleton hoverstation and find places to change their disguises. Emma dabs at her cheeks, scrubbing furiously while Tanya pulls wigs from her bag.
“You want the pink or the purple?”
Emma snorts; Bells probably picked out all these wigs.
“Purple,” she says.
They transform themselves again, and then Emma hits the bathroom before their hike out of town. Something is scribbled on the back of the bathroom stall.
“No way,” Emma gasps, when she realizes what the graffiti says.
MISCHIEF LIVES
THE LEAGUE IS A LIE
ORION IS STILL OUT THERE WATCH OUT
“Tanya, come look!”
“Oh, cool! Do we have a Resistance chapter here working on the communication project?”
“No!” Emma gasps. Here they are, hundreds of miles from any of their own efforts, and a complete stranger wrote this.
Emma traces her fingers over the words MISCHIEF LIVES. She didn’t do this. Someone else did, someone who still believes Master Mischief is still alive, even though no one’s heard from him for a year.
Unearthing the car, Emma is exhilarated for what’s to come. They let the solar panels charge while they eat, and the car is ready by late afternoon. Emma takes the wheel.
The long, winding stretches of the dirt trail through the forest are relaxing, and Emma is ready for something new, a new plan to focus on. The forest thins, and the trail meets another long-forgotten road, which stretches out in a long, flat line of packed earth.
Bells insists she take a break, and they switch. The road continues through endless, open fields, where grasses wave gently in the wind.
“There’s so much land here,” Bells says. “I wonder why the Regions never expanded.”
“People are afraid of the unknown,” Emma says. “Plus, we’ve been warned of all the dangers in the Unmaintained lands. No one wants to get radiation poisoning.”
“What radiation?” Sasha mutters, looking outside. The grass seems to be flourishing.
Emma has a theory. “We know that X29 knocked out a number of nuclear power plants, but it’s never been recorded which ones, aside from the major cities that required evacuation. I don’t think the number of meltdowns was as high as the Collective reported.”
Bells taps the steering wheel. “Yeah, after the Disasters and the war, people just accepted that everything outside of their cities was wasteland.”
“Who’s to say what is Unmaintained and what isn’t?” Tanya murmurs.
They settle into a thoughtful silence, and the only sound is the soft rustle of the grass and the slow rumble of the car.
“There’s someone else on the road,” Bells says, gripping the wheel tightly.
“There shouldn’t be.” Emma frowns.
“Oh, but there is.” Bells jerks his head at the road ahead of them.
Emma squints. Streaks of purple and pink race across the sky as the sun disappears from the horizon and night settles in around them. All she can see is the cracked gray asphalt of the road stretching to the horizon and the fading golden fields around them.
Wait. That big shadow— another car is moving toward them.
Emma sits upright, trying to formulate a plan for escape. She’s never seen the Authorities this far past a city’s limits, but one could never be sure.
“Turn off the lights,” Tanya says. She elbows her sister and Ricky, who both startle awake.
“What’s happening?”
“Shh!”
Bells fumbles on the dashboard and flicks a switch, but the lights brighten, illuminating the road and the approaching car. There are people inside— at least two. They’re not dressed like the Authorities, though, and the vehicle is definitely not a sleek government-issued solarcar, but a rickety salvage like their own.
“It’s fine,” Emma says. “Whoever it is, they’re out in the Unmaintained lands too. They know the risks they’re taking and they probably won’t talk to us.” Emma flips the correct switch, and they’re shrouded in darkness. “Pull over. They should pass us soon.”
Bells swerves, jerking nervously, and the car dives into the roadside weeds.
“Turn it off!” Emma hisses.
“Got it,” Bells says, turning off the engine. The computer hums, and then the only sounds are the wind and the other car.
Without the headlights, it’s easy to let imagination turn every movement, every shadow, into a monster. In the distance, a huge shape looms, and Emma’s logical mind knows that it’s the mountain, but she can’t help but see a hulking beast watching them pass by, waiting for the right moment to snatch them off the road.
An unnerving howl echoes in the distance.
Bells grabs her hand as the other car comes closer. Emma squeezes back, and they wait for the other vehicle to drive past their hiding place.
The sound of wheels crunching on the road comes to a halt.
Bells’ eyes widen, and he looks at Emma.
Footfalls. Whoever it is— they’re walking right toward them, as though they know exactly where they are in the dark.
Emma screams at the shadow outside her door.
“Emma? Bells?”
Wait! She knows that voice.
“Jess!” Emma cries out in relief.
Ch. 6…
