Revolution Read online

  Nadia sat up, too, putting her back against the headboard and wrapping her arms around her knees. “And yet you don’t see him volunteering to help us. I think he was pretty clear that he wanted us to be good little children and do nothing.”

  “That’s what he thinks is safest for us to do. But how long do you think Dorothy can keep the lights out before her ‘austerity measures’ start causing riots? And how do you think she’s going to proceed once those riots start?”

  Nadia grimaced, because she could see the future that was creeping up on them all too clearly.

  “If we sit here quietly and do what Maiden wants,” Agnes continued, “then a whole lot of people are going to die.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Nadia said. “I’m totally with you. It’s just that we can’t do it without help, and Shrimp has already said no.”

  “And that means we should stop asking?”

  “Well, no. I guess it doesn’t.” She smiled at Agnes, not sure the other girl could pick out her expression. “And if you’re the one doing the asking, I suppose it’s always possible he’ll have a change of heart.”

  Agnes hesitated a beat before speaking. “We do sort of get along well.”

  Nadia tilted her head to one side. “You make kind of an odd couple, you know.”

  Agnes waved a hand vaguely. “We’re not a couple. We just like each other is all. And even if we were, we’re not any odder than you and Dante.”

  It was true that Dante and Nadia came from very different worlds, and she supposed that made them something of an unlikely couple. “Nate was the only Executive boy I ever met who I genuinely liked,” she said. “The others were all too pompous, or too ambitious, or too phony. Dante’s as genuine as they come, and he’s not the kind of guy who sits on the sidelines critiquing someone’s outfit while people are being oppressed. He’s everything those Executive boys weren’t, so I’m not sure we’re really all that odd a couple after all.”

  “Evan’s the only guy I’ve ever met who hasn’t seen me as a chess piece on his game board,” Agnes said. “I’ve never seen that look in his eye that says he’s putting my looks on one side of the scale and my status as a Chairman’s daughter on the other and trying to figure out if they balance. He never nags me to talk when I don’t have anything to say, never expects me to be witty and entertaining.” She sighed heavily. “Add to that that he’s funny, and kind, and good-hearted, and, well…”

  Nadia nodded. “I can see that,” she said, though she wondered how Agnes managed to ignore his status as a gang member. He was a whole lot nicer than Nadia would ever have expected someone like him to be, but she couldn’t help speculating about what it was he did while he was out all night. He often came back with satchels of money or goods, and Nadia wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he did to get them.

  “What do you suppose is going to happen to us when this is all over?” Agnes asked.

  Nadia lay back down with a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I never put a lot of thought into it.” Partly because of her pessimistic view of their chances of being alive when all was said and done, but also because she had trouble imagining ever returning to her old life. It seemed impossible that she might once again find herself standing around at some stuffy Executive cocktail party making small talk with VIPs while fending off the backhanded compliments and outright insults of the Terrible Trio.

  Agnes lay down also, rolling onto her stomach and hugging her pillow to her chin. “I think about it all the time,” she said. “Even if we get out of this alive, we’re both of us damaged goods.”

  Nadia made a face, but she couldn’t argue the point. She’d already been socially ruined herself, and that was before she’d supposedly been an accomplice to murder and fled to the Basement. As far as the public knew, Agnes was a victim of kidnapping, and if it ever came out that she had gone with Nate voluntarily and spent weeks unchaperoned in a Basement-dweller’s apartment, she would quickly acquire a label less appealing than “victim.” No matter how unfair that might be.

  “Ten to one we both spend the rest of our lives hidden away in some Executive retreat where our families can pretend we don’t exist,” Agnes continued glumly. “And that’s the best-case scenario. So, you know, if I want to spend time with someone like Evan—and you want to spend time with someone like Dante—seems to me it can’t make our situation any worse.”

  “I am not going back into a retreat,” Nadia said with conviction. “And you’d better not let them do that to you, either. If our families are embarrassed by us, then that’s their problem, not ours.”

  Agnes’s silence said she was unconvinced. Maybe she was right, and there was no way either of them could return to Executive society after hiding out in the Basement. Nadia had allowed herself to be locked up in a retreat once before, but she was never going to do it again. And though Agnes was shy and timid, Nadia thought their time spent on the run had gone a long way toward giving her a backbone.

  No. If they emerged from the Basement alive, Nadia refused to accept any disgrace society might want to foist on her. She had awakened her inner honey badger, and unless she was very much mistaken, so had Agnes. Their lives might never be the same if they survived, but they were going to carve out their own places. If society didn’t like it, well, that was just too damn bad.

  * * *

  As usual, Shrimp was already up and cooking by the time Nadia was dressed and ready to meet the day. And as usual, Agnes was in the kitchen with him. Nadia didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she found herself stopping in the hallway, watching the two of them for a moment without announcing her presence. The way they moved around the small kitchen with such careless, familiar ease reminded Nadia almost of a dance, especially when you added in the way Agnes kind of lit up from the inside.

  She looked genuinely happy, and more relaxed than Nadia could ever remember seeing her before. And the person who made her look that way was a gang member, someone who had lived all his life in the squalor and crime of the Basement.

  Shrimp said something that made Agnes giggle, and she laid her hand on his shoulder in a way that would have scandalized Executive society. And the warmth in Shrimp’s eyes when he looked at her said that the touch was more than welcome. Nadia decided she’d better announce her presence before things got uncomfortable.

  Trying to make a little extra noise as she walked, Nadia sailed into the living room and tried not to notice how Agnes and Shrimp jumped apart.

  “Good morning,” Nadia said cheerfully, though of course it was way closer to sunset than to dawn.

  Thanks to the power outage, Shrimp had to do some serious improvising in the kitchen—the stove required electricity—but he’d done a pretty good job of it. He’d created a makeshift grill out of a large soup pot, and he was preparing steaks he’d kept cold in a cooler packed with ice.

  “This’ll probably be our last fresh food for a while,” he commented as he and Agnes toted the makeshift grill and the food over toward a table near the window. “The ice is pretty much history, so from now on, it’s gonna be canned everything.”

  Agnes opened the window to let the smoke out while Shrimp lit the charcoal in his grill. Even with the window open, the room would fill with smoke, so Nadia picked up a pillow from the sofa and started fanning the smoke in the direction of the window. Shrimp nodded his thanks, then retrieved a beer from the fridge. Nadia doubted it was even vaguely cool after all this time, and she shook her head when he offered her one. She couldn’t abide beer even when it was cold.

  Nate, Bishop, and Dante had a knack for showing up in plenty of time for dinner. Shrimp was keeping a close eye on the grill when they knocked, so Nadia let them in, and they joined the little campfire circle that was forming.

  “Do we still have to stay inside tonight?” Nate asked. “I’m going out of my mind being cooped up like this.”

  Anyone who knew him could see he was going stir-crazy without him having to say it. Nadia had never seen him so
fidgety, constantly in motion.

  Shrimp shrugged. “Nothin’ stopping you from going out. ’Cept common sense.”

  Nate grimaced. “Can you at least give us some idea what’s going on out there?” He nodded toward the open window. “You’re out in it every night, and without the TV we’re completely blind.”

  “It’s getting ugly,” Shrimp replied. “Lotsa people on the street who shouldn’t be. Tempers even shorter than usual. I cruised into the free territory last night, out near Angel’s. Some dumb-asses lit a bonfire in the middle of the street, and people were gathered around it, throwing shit in.” Another swig of beer. “If they don’t turn the lights back on soon, it’s gonna go from ugly to the kind of dangerous where people die.

  “That ain’t the worst of it,” Shrimp continued. “I went to see if the checkpoints were still up—I mean, you’d think if the government was so hard up for cash they’d have better things to do with their money than park Employees all the way around the Basement twenty-four hours a day.”

  Nate shook his head in disgust. “But they were still there.”

  “Worse than that. There were more of them. They’ve put up sawhorses across the streets and sidewalks, and they’re not letting anyone in or out, even with ID.”

  Grim news indeed, Nadia thought, wondering if she should have accepted that beer after all. Shrimp seemed to have the same idea, finishing off his beer with a few quick chugs, then grabbing the whole six-pack from the fridge and bringing it into the living room.

  The flames in the “grill” had died down, and most of the smoke was now obediently making its way out the window, but Shrimp pronounced that the charcoal wasn’t ready yet. Nate and Bishop sat on the couch, leaving just enough room for Nadia and Dante to squeeze in beside them. Agnes sat in the armchair, and Shrimp plopped down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged.

  “You don’t have to sit on the floor,” Agnes said. She moved over and patted the seat of the armchair she was sitting on. It was a seat meant for one, but two could probably squeeze in if they didn’t mind sitting real close.

  Shrimp flashed her his gold-toothed grin. “Floor’s fine for now. I don’t wanna squish you.”

  Agnes tried with no success to hide the crestfallen look on her face, taking Shrimp’s refusal as a rejection. Nadia was pretty sure he hadn’t meant it that way, but even so, she was pleasantly surprised when Shrimp took one look at Agnes’s face and scooted over to lean his back against the leg of her chair.

  “Could use a backrest, though, if that’s okay with you,” he said, settling in comfortably with his arm and shoulder touching her leg. Then he gave Nate an apologetic look. “I know y’all’re goin’ nuts, but it ain’t safe for you out in the streets.”

  “Even when we’re supposedly under Maiden’s protection?” Nate challenged. “I thought everyone was supposed to be terrified of him and do what he says.”

  Shrimp shook his head. “Morons who fuck with Maiden don’t live long ’round here. But there’s a new one born every day, and the dark is gonna give people ideas. You wanna risk it, fine by me. But I ain’t babysitting you out there.”

  Nate scowled and shoved an errant strand of hair away from his face. He was in need of a haircut, or at least some hair product, and it looked like it was one more thing that was driving him crazy.

  “So we’re all going to sit back and do nothing while conditions get worse and worse?” Agnes said, an unmistakable challenge in her voice.

  Nadia had expected Agnes to talk to Shrimp about the need to fight Dorothy sometime when they had privacy, rather than when everyone was gathered together. That’s what Nadia would have done, anyway. She worried that Shrimp would get extra defensive with an audience, but of course Agnes knew him better than Nadia did.

  Shrimp made a face and groaned. “Not this again.” He twisted around so he could look up at Agnes, the twinkle gone from his usually lively eyes. “Maiden ain’t gonna help you fight the government. Thought you got that.”

  Agnes nodded. “I do. I’m not asking Maiden to help. I’m asking you.”

  Shrimp’s eyes went almost comically wide, and at first all he could do was gaze at Agnes in speechless shock. Like it had never occurred to him that he could do something independent of his brother. He rose slowly to his feet, looking down at her.

  “Are you shittin’ me?” he finally asked. “D’you have any idea what Maiden would do to you if he found out you were tryin’ to recruit me?”

  Shrimp spoke right over her attempted protest. “There’s only room for one chief ’round here, and that’s Maiden. You start trying to get people to join your little resistance, Maiden’ll see it as a challenge to his authority. You don’t wanna see what happens to people who challenge his authority.”

  “Do some of them end up with tattoos around their wrists and throat?” Agnes challenged, looking him straight in the eye.

  “Only the really lucky ones,” he fired back. “Though you ask any of his girls if they feel lucky, they might tell you a different story.” He squatted down in front of Agnes. “I can protect you,” he said, then swept his gaze over the rest of them as if he just remembered they were there. “All of you. But not if you try to steal his people.”

  “We wouldn’t—”

  “That’s how he’d see it,” Shrimp said firmly. “I know my brother. Know how he thinks. I’m as much his property as anyone else in the Red Death, and you’re trying to recruit me behind his back.”

  “So he’d be okay with letting Thea win? You think the Basement is hell now? Wait till you see what it’s like when Thea really gets going.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Maiden is in charge, and I’m tellin’ you, he only cares about money, and territory. We can hide and protect you here. But the Red Death is not going to become your personal army of righteousness. End of story.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  One thing Nate would give Agnes: she was persistent. Shrimp had seemed pretty implacable when she’d attempted to recruit him on Tuesday, but that didn’t stop her from trying again on Wednesday, and yet again on Thursday. With similar results, naturally. Shrimp was certain his brother wasn’t civic-minded enough to take any action unless directly threatened, and having met the guy, Nate was inclined to agree. The frustration of sitting around in hiding like frightened children was getting to all of them, and bickering became a favorite pastime as they gathered in Shrimp’s apartment every night to do nothing.

  On Thursday night, Nate decided that if he spent one more hour in Dante’s presence the two of them were going to kill each other, so after dinner, he suggested that Kurt come down to their apartment with him, leaving the girls and Dante upstairs at Shrimp’s place. He figured perhaps a little alone time with Kurt might help smooth over some of the sharp edges on his temper, and he didn’t care that everyone would know what the two of them were up to.

  They headed down to their apartment at the same time that Shrimp left for his nightly rounds, but when they reached the eighteenth-floor landing, Shrimp blocked the door with his hand.

  “You can play later,” he said. “First, I wanna show you something.”

  Nate frowned at him. “Show us what?”

  “You’ll see. Now come on.”

  Nate glanced at Kurt to see if he had any idea what was going on, but Kurt just shrugged and said, “Only one way to find out.”

  Nate would much have preferred to stick to the original plan, but he doubted Shrimp’s request could be counted as optional. Not to mention that the thought of venturing outside and getting some fresh air was extremely appealing.

  The thought lost some of its appeal as the three of them descended the seemingly endless stairs, and Nate tried not to think about how much fun it was going to be to climb back up. Under his breath, he cursed Dorothy for her Draconian decision to cut all power to the Basement and wondered how long she was going to keep this up. Surely, surely it wasn’t going to be forever.

  When they reached the ground floor,
Shrimp pulled out some electronic gizmo that was clipped to his belt, and mumbled something cryptic into it. A man’s voice emerged from the gizmo, his words indecipherable—to Nate at least—behind the crackle of static.

  “Walkie-talkie,” Kurt explained, seeing Nate’s puzzled look. “Runs on batteries and uses different frequencies than phones. The range on ’em is real short, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Shrimp nodded. “We lose phone service enough it’s useful to keep some around, just in case. Though its never been out more than a few hours before, and we don’t have all that many batteries.”

  Shrimp pushed open the door into the lobby, leading Nate and Kurt out the front entrance. The bodyguard bookends were still there, stationed behind their bulletproof glass, barely visible in the oppressive darkness of the blackout. Nate figured shining his flashlight on them to get a better look would be a really dumb idea, so he kept the beam pointed at his feet, though having armed men in the shadows at his back made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

  “So, where’re we going?” Kurt asked.

  “Block and a half over,” Shrimp replied, gesturing vaguely to the left and beckoning them to follow.

  Granted, Nate hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to his surroundings when Shrimp had originally guided them to the red tower, but the neighborhood seemed to have deteriorated since he’d last seen it. There had always been a generous layer of litter—once you got about fifty yards away from the red tower—but there was even more of it now, and the narrow alleys between the buildings were all overflowing with garbage bags. Nate shone his flashlight down one of those alleys as they passed, the beam catching a pair of glowing eyes staring out at him. He couldn’t see the creature the eyes belonged to, but he hoped it was a cat.