Revolution Read online

  “Don’t be a fool!” Dorothy said. “I don’t need a Replica when I have the real thing. And I gagged him because I got tired of listening to him. Here, I’ll take it off.”

  Nate was certainly more than capable of annoying someone enough to end up gagged. The sickening thought occurred to Nadia that even if this wasn’t her Nate, Dorothy had the scan she needed to make another genuinely human Replica, one with all of Nate’s memories up until the time of the last scan before his murder. That Nate would not have been through the last couple of months, which had tempered and changed him, made him a stronger, more courageous, more noble person. That Nate might not even know enough about what was going on to fully understand.

  Dorothy was fumbling at the gag with one hand, careful to keep the gun menacingly close, but Nadia knew in her heart that it didn’t matter. Thea could create another copy of Dorothy, but Nadia was damn sure she couldn’t do it in time to get that Dorothy, with her retinas and fingerprints, down to the situation room to order the nuclear attack before Synchrony’s missiles hit.

  “I’m sorry, Nate,” Nadia said. “But I can’t let her nuke anyone.”

  Closing her eyes because she was too close to miss, Nadia pulled the trigger until the gun clicked empty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Nadia didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to see what she’d done. The air stank of blood and smoke and her own fear-sweat, and her whole body was shaking. Droplets of hot liquid had splashed her face and hands, and she feared if she opened her eyes to confirm what it was, she might spend the next ten minutes retching in the corner.

  But she might not even have ten minutes, so she couldn’t spare the time to wallow in the horror. By bringing her to the Chairman’s office, Dorothy might have inadvertently guided Nadia to the one and only way she could escape the locked-down building before the missiles hit.

  Nadia pried her eyes open and forced herself to look, forced herself to make sure Dorothy was dead.

  Through her eyes blurred with tears, Nadia saw that both Dorothy and her Nate-puppet were well and truly dead. There was so much blood …

  Silently, Nadia prayed she had done the right thing, that she hadn’t just killed the real Nate, her Nate. Or even a second duplicate of Nate. She hoped what she’d killed was just a mindless automaton, controlled by Thea. That, she could live with.

  Letting out a shaking breath, Nadia lowered the gun, then dropped it altogether. She appropriated the other dead security officer’s gun, knowing she was far from out of the woods, then examined the office, looking for the emergency exit Nate had told her would be there. The exit the Chairman could use to escape the building in case of attack.

  In the Chairman’s office in Paxco Headquarters, the exit had been behind an ornamental bookcase, so Nadia tried there, first. She pulled and pushed from all angles, but the bookcase remained firmly in place. At Headquarters, it had rolled smoothly out of the way, so she made an educated guess that the emergency exit here was not behind the bookcase. She moved on to the bar, set against the wall right next to the bookcase, but it showed no sign of being movable, either.

  A low, feminine chuckle sounded from some unseen speaker.

  “You had better hope I am able to bluff Synchrony into calling off that missile strike, little girl,” Thea’s voice gloated. “Because you’re not getting out of this room. Not until you’re in my custody once again.”

  Nadia’s feet got tangled up and she almost tripped, unsettled by the realization that just because she had made it impossible for Thea to launch a nuclear attack before Synchrony’s missiles hit didn’t mean the threat had lost its teeth. Not with Thea’s impressive ability to manipulate both video and audio.

  Nadia forced herself to take a deep breath and think. Thea’s voice was nothing but a distraction. The missiles would either come, or they wouldn’t, and Nadia couldn’t control that. All she could control was whether she was in the building when and if they hit.

  “If you had just given yourself up when I asked you to oh-so-nicely,” Thea continued, “I would have been merciful to you. I understand that in your own misguided way, you are doing what you think is best.”

  Nadia kept moving about the room, pressing and pulling and pushing on anything she could think of that might be masking a secret passageway. She almost laughed at the idea of Thea calling her “misguided,” but there wasn’t anything funny about the situation.

  “But then, that’s true of a great number of human beings who do terrible things, isn’t it? My children will have a clear and universal definition of what is right and what is wrong, one they will all adhere to. There will be no more crime in the world, no more war, no more injustice, and all my children will truly be created equal, without regard to race or gender or financial status. I will create paradise on Earth.”

  “And that all these pseudo-people will bow down and worship you is nothing but a fringe benefit,” Nadia said, chewing her lip as she looked around the room once more, searching for something she had missed. The emergency exit couldn’t be too hard to access, or it wouldn’t be much good in the face of a true emergency.

  “You will not escape,” Thea said, ignoring Nadia’s gibe altogether. “I am even now in negotiation with Synchrony. I am showing them a very interesting video log, one that shows how you and Nathaniel coerced Chairman Belinski into sending that order. It shouldn’t be long until the order is rescinded and you are recaptured. With four dead bodies arranged at your feet, I might add.”

  Don’t listen to her, Nadia counseled herself. She had seen ample evidence that Thea was a liar, and nothing she said could be trusted.

  Frustration built as the minutes ticked by and Nadia found no sign of an emergency exit.

  “I’m afraid there is no emergency exit from this room,” Thea said. Nadia wished she could tell where the speaker was so she could shoot it, but there was no obvious security camera, and she didn’t have time to go looking.

  Nate had told her there was an exit, and therefore, there had to be an exit. He had even said the exit was “just like the one at Headquarters.” Nadia eyed the bookcase again.

  Thea gave a sigh of what sounded like satisfaction. “I’ve just received word that Synchrony has decided to set their missiles to self-destruct, pending further investigation.”

  Don’t listen to her, don’t listen to her, don’t listen to her.

  Nadia glared at the bookcase. In Headquarters, all it had taken to move the bookcase was a light push on the right side. Nadia tried pushing there again, but still with no results. Then, because she could think of nothing better to do, she put her back against the side of the bookcase and pushed hard with her legs.

  There was resistance at first, then a sharp metallic screech. Then the bookcase flew out from behind her and she landed on the floor on her butt so hard, she bit her tongue.

  She took a second to catch her breath and looked into the dark stairwell the bookcase had hidden. Just like the one in Headquarters, this bookcase was set upon rails. Only someone had put a twisted heavy-duty paper clip on these rails. It wasn’t enough to stop the door from opening, but it was more than enough to make it take a much greater effort.

  “Nice try, Thea,” Nadia said as she rose to her feet and stepped into the stairwell. Dorothy must have put the paper clip there while she was waiting for Nadia to arrive, an extra safeguard in case Nadia called her bluff and went through her.

  “You are too late!” Thea’s voice shrieked through the speakers. “The missiles are here!”

  Nadia wanted to point out that Thea’s lies were contradicting each other, but just in case the latest wasn’t a lie, she saved her breath and charged down the stairs. She was only on the fourth floor, but the stairs seemed to go on forever, and she was running so fast she practically pitched down them headfirst.

  She made it to the bottom, where a dark concrete tunnel led off into the distance. Panting heavily, her ribs aching and her legs burning, she took off down the tunnel. Whe
ther she was running from the missiles or from pursuers sent after her by Thea didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she keep running.

  She felt more than heard the first explosion, the tunnel vibrating under her feet, and she had a sudden flashback to her time in the subway tunnels. She hoped this one was sturdier—and that it would take no direct hits. She had no idea how far away she needed to get to be at a “safe” distance from a missile attack, but she was sure farther was better, so she kept running.

  She reached the end of the tunnel, a small, square room with a metal ladder leading up to what looked like a manhole. She grabbed the ladder, then felt the world shake beneath her again.

  She looked up at the manhole cover. She didn’t know what was above her: a building, a street, an empty lot. But at least down here, she was sure she had some cover. And if the missiles hit close enough to kill her down here, she wouldn’t fare any better above.

  And so, Nadia hunkered down in a corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, and listened to the barrage that she hoped against hope would destroy Thea once and for all.

  * * *

  The emergency lighting in Nadia’s little shelter went out long before the explosions stopped. The air filled with dust and the scent of burning. She didn’t think there was any actual smoke, but she stayed low to the ground anyway, just in case.

  Even after the noise quieted and the ground stopped shaking, she remained huddled in the relative safety of her little corner. Now that she wasn’t running anymore, didn’t have to do anything anymore, she was forced to face the heart-wrenching reality.

  Nate was dead. Whether Nadia killed him herself, or whether he and Belinski were still stuck in that building somewhere when the missiles hit, he was gone. And this time, there would be no Replica.

  Nadia sat in the darkness and sobbed until her throat was raw and her chest ached. There was part of her that almost wished she hadn’t gotten out of that building after all, so she wouldn’t have to live with yet another loss. Gerri. Her mother. Maybe Dante, though Nadia clung to the hope that he had survived Thea’s continued assault on the Basement. And now Nate.

  It was too much to bear. Too much for the universe to load onto her shoulders. It wasn’t fucking fair!

  Eventually, she cried herself out, at least for the time being. She scrubbed at her cheeks and eyes with her grubby, gritty hands, then forced herself to her feet and felt along the wall until she found the ladder. She gave it an experimental shake to make sure it was secure, then carefully climbed it, wishing she hadn’t abandoned her phone so she could at least have its little glow of light.

  Every few rungs, she reached above her, fingers searching for the manhole cover so she wouldn’t bonk her head against it. When she found it, she gave it a push, but wasn’t surprised when it didn’t budge. She climbed higher up the ladder so she’d have more leverage and tried again, but still it didn’t move.

  Maybe it was locked somehow. She felt all the way around it, searching for a catch or a bolt or a button—any kind of identifiable locking mechanism. But she found nothing. Maybe the damn thing was just heavy. Maybe too heavy for a willowy Executive teenager to move.

  Nadia pushed until she was so exhausted she worried she might fall down the ladder, but the manhole cover remained firmly in place. Screaming in frustration, she banged on the cover but only managed to bruise her hand. She was pretty sure she could hear sounds of movement outside, so she tried yelling for help. When that didn’t work, she took off her shoe—a sturdy masculine loafer to fit her disguise as Belinski’s aide—and banged its heel on the cover. The heel wasn’t hard enough to make a satisfying bang, but she did manage a dull, metallic thud, which she kept up until her arms were so sore and tired she thought they might fall off and she might die down here after all.

  The shoe slipped from Nadia’s fingers and thumped on the floor below. She followed it down, knowing she had to rest before she tried again.

  She had just regained her seat in the corner when there was a wrenching, metallic sound from above. Then there was something that sounded like a saw, followed by a clatter. And then the manhole was dragged out of the way and a shaft of blinding sunlight made Nadia shade her eyes with her forearm.

  When her eyes could bear the light, she moved her arm and squinted against the brightness to see a woman in combat fatigues climbing down the ladder.

  “Let me see your hands,” the woman ordered, and Nadia noticed the muzzle of a rifle being pointed at her by someone on the surface.

  Nadia held up her hands obediently. “My name is Nadia Lake,” she said hoarsely, hoping the admission wouldn’t get her immediately thrown in prison—or shot.

  The woman nodded briskly, still keeping a safe distance and visually checking her out. “Are you injured?”

  “No.” Not except for bumps and bruises and aches, but she doubted the woman cared about that.

  “There’s a lot of blood on you.”

  Nadia’s eyes teared up. “It’s not mine.”

  It turned out the woman was a medic, and she gave Nadia a quick examination anyway, just to make sure she wasn’t in shock and unaware of an injury. Afterward, she helped Nadia to her feet and then climbed up the ladder right behind her. When Nadia reached the top, a soldier bent down and grabbed her under the arms, easily hoisting her the rest of the way up and setting her down.

  She was glad the soldier kept a hand on her arm, even though she suspected it was meant as a restraint rather than an act of comfort. The bombings she’d lived through in the Basement had not prepared her for the devastation left in the wake of a concentrated missile attack.

  The Fortress was gone.

  In its place was a gaping pit, one Nadia couldn’t see the bottom of. The grounds between the building and its fence were littered with debris and crawling with soldiers. It appeared the Chairman’s emergency exit had led to a small guardhouse near the fence, but the guardhouse had lost two of its walls. Nadia hadn’t been able to get the manhole cover open because it had been buried in debris.

  “Were there other survivors?” Nadia asked with little hope.

  The soldier didn’t answer her, instead urging her to come with him as he guided her through the field of debris. She was too exhausted and full of despair to ask again, or ask what was going to happen to her. She followed the soldier without protest as he led her to the Fortress’s front gates, which were still intact, although they were now open so the soldiers and their equipment could pass through.

  The area was teeming with vehicles, both military and civilian, and there were flashing lights everywhere. Nadia didn’t see any sign of the press, so she presumed the soldiers had set up a perimeter somewhere well away from the blast site. There were also no news helicopters flying overhead.

  The soldier and the medic loaded Nadia into the back of a transport. A transport that contained two long benches with rails running along their backs. She balked, remembering her last ride in such a vehicle, when her hands had been cuffed behind her back and attached to an O ring high enough to practically dislocate her shoulders.

  The medic patted her shoulder in an awkward gesture of sympathy. “We’ll leave your hands free as long as you keep cooperating. Please, have a seat.”

  Nadia sank down onto one of the benches. The medic sat next to her, and the soldier across, making sure to position themselves between Nadia and the exit.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, praying the answer wasn’t Rikers Island.

  “We’re headed to Fort Hamilton,” the medic answered, but that was all Nadia could get out of either of them.

  Fort Hamilton was a high-security military base about thirty minutes from the Fortress. Before Paxco had bought out New York, Fort Hamilton had been an army base accessible to the public, but these days it was fenced in and heavily guarded. Nadia feared being taken there didn’t bode well, but she was too numb and exhausted to spend much time speculating about her future. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried with every fibe
r of her being not to think.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was getting dark by the time the transport arrived at Fort Hamilton. Nadia had nodded off once or twice during the ride, but the combination of the hard bench and the transport’s poor suspension meant she couldn’t get comfortable enough to do more than that.

  The soldier, whose fatigues Nadia belatedly noticed had the name JENKINS sewn on the front, was surly and uncommunicative, his hand always on or near his gun. The medic, who introduced herself as Caroline, was considerably warmer and friendlier, but in the end she wasn’t much more communicative than Jenkins. Apparently, they were not authorized to share any information with Nadia, and she was going to have to wait before she learned any details about the attack—like whether there were any survivors besides herself.

  It was very likely that Paxco’s Chairman—both the pretender and the rightful Chairman—and the entire board of directors had all been killed. Nadia couldn’t imagine who would take charge under such circumstances, or how the government could manage to rebuild itself. And without a commander in chief to guide them, who knew how the military was reacting to what might well seem to them to be an attack against their state by a rival state?

  Thea had had to be destroyed, no matter what the cost, but Nadia hoped Paxco hadn’t just gotten itself tangled in a war against Synchrony.

  At Fort Hamilton, Nadia was taken to a deserted wing of one of the barracks. She was given a room with a cot, and the smallest set of fatigues available. Caroline invited her to use the shower and promised someone would bring her some food. This wasn’t exactly how Nadia expected prisoners to be treated, but it didn’t seem like she was a guest, either.

  “Am I free to walk around?” Nadia asked, although she had no real desire to do so, exhausted in body and soul.