Rescue (The Alliance Chronicles Book 2) Page 3

  The elegant woman confounds me. Her mannerisms, her speech, even her arrogance brings back memories of Zared. What is the likelihood the two of them are related? Stranger things have happened in my life.

  “Friends don’t let friends talk Alliance!”

  —A message from the United Citizens for the American Republic

  Zared

  Every few minutes, Griffin shifts in his seat, glancing up at the flat screen on the wall. So far, there hasn’t been any word of Tru, dead or alive. Maybe this stranger got it wrong about the New Order and their plans for her. Sitting around, though, is nothing more than procrastination.

  Time crawls, dragging my patience with it. Doubt sows seeds about Griffin’s intentions. Tru could be anywhere.

  We finish our meal, and I help Gliese clean up the kitchen. With Griffin out of sight, it seems like a good time to ask her some questions.

  “Gliese, what’s with the disguise?” I ask cautiously.

  She places the food in the refrigerator. “I’m protecting Griffin.” Gliese closes the door and leans her hip into the counter. “He told you he used to be Riza?”

  “Yeah.”

  “His escape from North Woods initiated a manhunt covering the AR and Canada. They’re still looking for him. If they find me, tracking Griffin would be a cinch. Our red hair makes it easier to find us. If the authorities find him, they’ll kill him.”

  Makes sense on some level. “Does he wear a disguise, too?”

  She nods. “Usually just a hat, but Griffin rarely goes out in daylight.”

  “Did he ask you—”

  “He doesn’t have to ask.” Her voice hardens. “I owe him.”

  There’s something demented about this brother-system dynamic. I cock my head and say skeptically, “Griffin said you don’t feel emotions. Not entirely true, huh?”

  Gliese squares her shoulders. “I don’t feel things. I wish I did.”

  She might feel something if she stopped artificially squashing her emotions.

  “My memories remind me how much I loved him,” she continues. “He’d do anything for me. After he lost Gena and the baby, Griffin could’ve given up. But he kept going for me. I won’t deprive him of his lifeline.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. What the hell is she babbling about? “Gena and the baby?”

  “Griffin didn’t tell you about them?” She dries her hands on a dishtowel. “He met Gena when they were kids. They fell in love and married after graduation. Soon after she got pregnant. Health issues made it risky. Griffin hated leaving her side for anything. But he was Riza, and the jerks wouldn’t listen. Insisted he report for duty. He refused. A team came for him. They killed Gena and the baby.”

  Is nothing sacred in this world? I lower my head. “So you’re all he has?”

  “As far as blood family goes. We have a stepfather. But if it were up to me, I’d be gone.”

  “Gone where?” I cross my arms.

  Gliese’s hands briefly clench and then relax.

  A shred of passion breaks through. Must be time for more drugs.

  “Plenty of my friends who got that damned vaccine checked out,” she says bitterly.

  There it is, proof of her brother’s tampering. Trying to control Gliese is ruining her. And people thought my father was a sadist. First rule of the street—know your enemy.

  “Checked out?” I ask, assessing her demeanor.

  Gliese rolls her eyes. “Killed themselves. Checked out of living. They couldn’t take not feeling shit. I know what anger is, but I can’t act on it because I don’t feel it. I don’t feel joy or sadness or love. I’m numb inside. If it weren’t for Griffin, I’d have checked out, too. But I can’t do that to him. I won’t do it to him. Understand?”

  “I guess.” Sorry, I call bullshit. Her words and actions are full of anger. What purpose does it serve burying her emotions? Riza has a history of manipulation, but this is cruel. Unfortunately my life has enough drama without taking on someone else’s.

  Gliese bumps my shoulder leaving the kitchen.

  Second rule of the street? Know when to walk away.

  I go out on the balcony, inhaling the crisp, clean air. Canada is nothing like the AR. Tru will enjoy living here, exploring her creativity.

  Being without her leaves me empty. I miss the simple things about Tru. How she blushes when I catch her checking me out… or the way she plays with her hair when she’s deep in thought. She completes me. Without her, I’m broken and it hurts. Tru is the love of my life. If I don’t find her, these feelings will remain and I’ll be lost forever.

  I pray no one injects her with the vaccine. Although there are major holes in Gliese and Griffin’s story, the possibility of there being a grain of truth in it bothers me. No one should live their life struggling to express emotions or even hide them. Living without her creativity will devastate Tru.

  And what if Griffin told the truth about the vaccine erasing the ability to love? It won’t stop me from loving Tru, but how would she cope? She cares profoundly for others. It pains me to think it, but instead of inoculating her, the New Order should just kill her. The outcome would be the same.

  “Can we talk?” I lift my head to see Griffin with his face screwed up.

  “What’s up?” I swallow the harsh comment dangling on the tip of my tongue. Third rule of the street—don’t engage the enemy.

  He closes the sliding glass door and snarls, “It’s ‘bout my sister. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t discuss her condition with her.”

  “Come again?” My chest tightens.

  His posture stiffens. “The vaccine didn’t rob her of all her emotions.”

  We’re back at square one, my not liking this guy. I grip the railing tightly. He’s the enemy. Don’t. Trust. Him. “Why the hell did you tell me it did then?”

  “Lower your voice,” he demands, glancing over his shoulder. “When Gliese got over the sickness, she wanted to know why she felt empty. It was easier to tell her the vaccine stole her emotions.”

  What did he gain by keeping his sister in the dark about her own condition? Sick, twisted bastard. “Be straight with me. What did the vaccine do to her?”

  “The first round disrupted her chemical balance. Gliese has bad mood swings. Some days she’s good, on an even plane. But she has bad days. Gliese goes off to her dark place, and I can’t reach her.”

  “It’s not a loss of emotions?” I ask, disgusted by him.

  “Not the way you’d think.” He pauses for a beat like he’s looking for the right words. “She’s on neurotransmitters to keep her stable.”

  Another theory proven. The guy keeps his own sister doped up. Ass. “Stable? More like a blank slate.”

  “She’s trying not to feel anything. When Angela walked out, it almost killed her. And then, her friends committed suicide when they couldn’t handle the mood swings and depression.”

  Mood swings and depression aren’t the same as being devoid of emotions. For once, my father didn’t contribute to someone else’s plight. But this guy is just as dangerous, if not more so, than my father. His desire to protect Gliese is admirable, but I remember what lying did to Tru. If Gliese ever learns the truth, would she forgive her brother?

  “Isn’t she aware of how she feels on her dark days?”

  Griffin shrugs. “She doesn’t tell me. I try to keep her on some sort of daily medication.”

  “That’s why Gliese says she’s numb all the time,” I murmur.

  “It’s not like that!” he bellows. “The vaccine made her unpredictable. I never know who she’ll be on any given day. Ninety percent of the time, she’s depressed. Recently, she stopped taking the meds. She’s self-medicating, drugs and alcohol, trying to turn it all off. Gliese thinks I don’t know.”

  Damn. These are the people wanting to help me find Tru—a girl who needs mental help and a guy who has control issues. They need someone to rescue them from their own shitty existence. “Don’t know what to say to that.”


  “I’m not looking for you to say anything,” Griffin snaps. “Just don’t talk about the vaccine or her condition.”

  Every nerve in my body cries to “get the fuck out,” but my mind argues that I need more information. I look down on the empty street before making eye contact with Griffin. “How do you know so much about the vaccine?”

  “I studied to become a scientist before Riza and stumbled across some data.”

  Nausea grips my stomach. He knew about the vaccine but did nothing to help his sister. What a dick. “Where’d you study?”

  “On New Belle Isle. Worked with a real asshat, Holden Pratt.”

  Holden Pratt. My skin crawls. Oh hell, Tru’s parents promised her to that jerk.

  Focus. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Stay calm. Later on, I’ll worry about breaking her promise with that prick.

  I exhale. Knowledge is power, and right now, Griffin has the upper hand. I coax, “Any way to reverse its effects?”

  “I’ve been working on it.” Griffin grimaces. “The neurotransmitter dosing is as close as I’ve gotten for Gliese. Need to do more testing. The survivors we’ve helped don’t want to be tested.” He leans on the railing and stares into the distance like the answer is in the clouds. “Can’t say I blame them, though.”

  I drop my head on my arms. Learning all I can about the vaccine helps Tru. Griffin needs to believe I’m on his side. Generously, I offer, “If Tru is vaccinated, you’ll get your testing.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. You can’t volunteer your girl. You don’t know how she’s going to feel after inoculation.” His voice grows pessimistic. “Man, you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

  I glare at him. Once again, somebody’s telling me to prepare for the worst. Why can’t I prepare for some good shit in my life? I’ve had enough bad to last two lifetimes.

  “We’ll be fine.” I suck my cheeks in.

  “Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t. The vaccine changes people. The effects are different for everyone.”

  “We’re fighting for you. Get inoculated.”

  —A communiqué from the Bureau of Homeland Protection

  Tru

  Belligerent voices outside my room wake me up. It’s clear as crystal who the voices belong to—Holden and The Woman. But why are they arguing so loudly?

  “Stop pouting. You’re acting like a child,” she admonishes.

  “You don’t understand. The girl broke our promise,” Holden complains.

  “To hell with it. Words on paper mean nothing particularly the ones she wrote. Be satisfied she’s here now.”

  My stomach sinks. It seems a lifetime ago when I made that reckless choice. Mom and Dad wanted me to marry Holden, but I couldn’t commit. My heart belonged to another. So I signed the document ‘Truth Sucks Seriously,’ voiding the arrangement.

  How did she know I faked the signature?

  “Doesn’t change the situation,” he says. “She belonged to me.”

  Thwack. Silence. I hope that’s a blow delivered to Holden.

  “Get it through your skull, Pratt. She. Is. Not. Property.”

  My heart shakes at her words. Is she defending me?

  “But—” he starts.

  She cuts him off. “He fascinated her. They knew each other as kids. You can’t change her history.”

  My heart plummets to my stomach. How the hell did she know unless…?

  “I can’t change it, but I can erase it,” he says, venom dripping off his words.

  “No,” she utters forcefully. “You won’t harm her. Tormenting her won’t get you answers.”

  Whose side is she on?

  “Need I remind you I call the shots around here,” he warns.

  Another moment of silence.

  “Not concerning the girl,” she says.

  I hold my breath, straining to listen. Nothing. The quiet is deafening.

  Finally, the woman adds, “ I’ll speak to her now. Alone.”

  I pull the cover over my head and feign sleep. The door clicks shut and the woman says thinly, “You can stop faking. I’m sure you heard the entire conversation.”

  I roll over and sit up. “A performance for my benefit?”

  “You will benefit from it.” She slinks into the room like a cat. Her fancy clothes are gone, replaced by dark jeans and a royal blue sweater. No matter what she wears, it fits her perfectly. Only one other person in my past shares that trait.

  “What do you want from me?” I tug at my sleeve. My body odor surrounds me like a dense, sticky mist. The sour stench of vomit lingers in the air. How much time has passed since I put on the black thermal top and jeans?

  She sits near me with a tablet in her hand. “Dr. Pratt already told you he’s looking for the card. He needs to know who you gave it to.”

  “And as long as I don’t tell him, I stay alive. Right?”

  Her mouth curves into a smile, which doesn’t reach her eyes. “No guarantee about your life, but if you want to keep Zared alive, you’ll talk.”

  “What do you mean?” I notice the device in her hand.

  The woman taps on the screen and passes it to me. A streaming video displays Zared walking into a high rise building with a statuesque blonde.

  My heart twists in my chest. Just another doctored video. I shove the tablet toward her. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I expect you to believe Zared’s being watched. We’re tracking his moves,” she says flatly.

  Apprehension fills my thoughts and quickens my pulse. I blurt out the question I don’t want answered, “Why?”

  “Leverage. Things will happen to him if you don’t comply with Holden’s wishes.”

  “I don’t believe you.” I glare at her. The possibilities rattle my nerves.

  The grumpy woman, La Mohína, turns off the device and looks at me. “What will it take for you to believe?”

  “Answer my questions.” I cross my arms and set my jaw.

  “Go ahead,” she says quietly.

  I stretch my legs out and wrap my arms around me. “First question, what do you know about my promise to Holden?”

  “I know the signature wasn’t yours.”

  Interesting. “How would you know that?”

  “I saw the papers.” La Mohína raises an eyebrow. “And before you ask, Holden hasn’t seen them.”

  “But how…” It doesn’t matter how she found out. There’s something more important I need to know. “What do you know about my past? I heard you mention me knowing someone as a kid.”

  “Come now, my dear.” Her words patronize me. “We both know what you want to ask. Out with it. I said I’d answer your questions.”

  I have my suspicions, but I won’t know unless I ask. “Who decided to fake your death, you or your husband?”

  She smirks. “Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?”

  “Answering questions with a question. That’s something—”

  “My son would do,” she says in a hushed tone.

  So, it’s true. She’s Zared’s mother, Doctor Aoki. Oh. My. God. “We’re not talking about him.”

  “Suit yourself. Shall we discuss the SIM card?”

  I push back my shoulders and pray my muscles will stop quivering.

  “Very well.” She leans forward, her voice taking on a conspiratorial quality. “This can be easy or hard. Your choice. Give Dr. Pratt a name. That’s all he needs.”

  “If I don’t?” I ask defiantly.

  “You think Zared will come for you? Save you from this place? Holden will make sure he’ll never make it. Is that what you want for him? His death?” La Mohína doesn’t flinch.

  Will she honestly let Holden kill her son? Can I take that chance?

  Doctor Aoki stands. “I’ll let you think on it. We’ll be back to get your answer.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter.

  She throws over her shoulder, “If you think you can stall, think again. Dr. Pratt will get his answers. It’s up to you whe
ther it will be pleasant or not.”

  “Imagine a fairy tale world with make-believe characters on fantastical journeys. The humans there don’t care about improving life. They are against scientific advancement, technology, and educational enrichment. They harbor thoughts of introducing another massive plague. It’s a future created by the Alliance.”

  —A message from the United Citizens for the American Republic

  Zared

  Nightfall comes, yet we have no news about Tru. Griffin suggests getting some rest. Gliese even offers me her bed, but I remain restless. Every minute I stay in this high-rise fortress breaks a rule of the streets. Skewed thinking keeps me awake.

  I enter the living room intent on making my way to the balcony. Instead, the constant news stream catches my attention.

  Today Riza soldiers shot and killed Truly Shara Shepard, an activist and traitor against the American Republic. Shepard attempted to hack into government servers located on New Belle Isle. The traitor refused to surrender and shot at soldiers who returned fire. Shepard has no surviving family members.

  “It’s started,” Gliese announces from behind me and switches off the stream. “We’ve got to act now.”

  “And do what?” I ask, unconvinced. We spent the day doing nothing. Why should I believe they were willing to do anything now?

  Griffin’s deep voice enters the room before he does. “We make plans. Gliese, alert the Network.”

  She nods and walks down the hall.

  I perch on the back of the sofa studying him. What secrets is he keeping? How long do I participate in this game? “Network?”

  Griffin stares at me for a beat. “You’ve heard of the Alliance?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. How did he know about it? The Alliance is a covert operation.

  He rubs his shoulder. “All you need to know is the two operations are similar. The Network takes care of things in Canada. What’s important right now is getting you out of here.”

  “Isn’t this place supposed to be safe?” I object. Leaving is definitely my plan. Not so sure I should go anywhere with him, though.