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Fiery orange light poured through the windows of the command room, detailing the arc of the horizon over the glassy sea. Wispy pink clouds floated beneath us like threads of cotton trimmed in gold, and the hum of monitors faded into a distant murmur.
This place was beautiful.
I sighed and returned to watching Tim and Crush battling each other for computer supremacy. Once Crush finally managed to regain control of the main screen and Tim offered to bring him a glass of water, I plopped into the seat next to him. Crush rested both hands against the desk, trying to catch his breath.
“That kid’s good,” he said, wiping beads of sweat from his cheeks. “How long has he been off the pills?”
“A week, maybe.”
“A week?” Crush’s eyes went wide. “He really is a genius.”
I glanced toward the open door. “Pops was the one who wanted to rescue us, wasn’t he? Why doesn’t he trust us?”
“Would you trust someone you’d just rescued from a society that brainwashes everyone into thinking powers are the result of some hallucinogenic plague?” Crush gave me a curious smile. “Give him time. He just wants to make sure you know all the facts and don’t endanger the rest of us while you’re learning to use your powers.”
“He sure as hell better not endanger the rest of us,” Jack muttered behind me. I spun around so fast in the swivel chair that I almost lost my balance. When had he come in? He rapped his knuckles on the metal frame of a nearby monitor, then took a seat at a computer near the window. “He’s lost enough men. If one of you decides to go back, you’ll face the consequences alone.”
My skin crawled. He sure didn’t take it easy on Crush.
“They knew going in to rescue you could be a trap, but they decided to go anyway,” Crush said softly. I winced, trying to think of something to say, but Tim returned with Crush’s water and they went back to their feverish race. A few minutes later, Jack cursed and closed the archival program he’d been searching through. He turned in his chair.
“How’s the kid doing?”
“Kind of busy at the moment—” Crush rapidly typed computer commands as new screens popped up faster than the old ones disappeared. Seemed Tim was winning.
Jack grinned. “Suppose the boy gets into your personal files. You gonna put an extra layer of encryption on those ‘leader’ photos of Inese?”
Inese walked in at that exact moment. She raised an eyebrow, but Jack was too busy paying attention to the screen and Crush, oblivious as the others, was too engrained in his work to even realize he’d been addressed. Inese held a finger to her lips, winked at me, then turned invisible.
I scuttled to the other side of the room. Jack shrieked and yanked at the back of his jacket. Three little ice cubes clunked to the floor. “Inese!”
She materialized beside Crush, grinning maliciously. She held an ice cube between her fingers. “What was it about photos you were saying?”
Jack grimaced and readjusted his jacket. “Nothing. I’m sure you and him only ever talk about flying cars in that room of yours.”
Tim peered up from the console. “What’s going on?”
Crush—now red—scratched the back of his neck. “So... you never skipped the pill?”
“No. Not intentionally.”
Inese smirked and tossed the ice cube to Jack before returning to the computer she’d initially headed for. Jack palmed the cube, muttering about the “cruel lady” abusing her powers. He left the room, fidgeting with his jacket.
“Kind of wish I had techno sight,” Crush murmured, watching Tim type. He smiled. It was one of those genuine smiles that could make anyone feel warm inside, and I smiled back.
Even though he’d lost his brother to save us, he didn’t seem to harbor any resentment.
Over the course of the next week, I perused Jim’s textbook and learned what I could about the rebels I’d fallen in with. Several times each day, Jack brought us to the training room and made us practice our individual skills, but as far as I could tell, the rebels didn’t mean us harm.
Lance and I had already been practicing fighting for a while today. Sweat trickled down my back, the training room’s draft chilling my skin. Lance crouched, his feet separated into a T-stance so that one foot was forward while the other was to the side. He swung his staff to my left. I blocked and automatically switched my training staff to defend my right.
Repetitious practice was supposed to help our reflexes in case of an actual fight. I humored Jack’s training, but I would’ve preferred avoiding the fight altogether.
Lance aimed for my feet. I skittered out of reach, attempting a shot at his shoulder. His staff went up, caught my swing, and swiftly disarmed me. My baton rolled down the ever-so-slightly uneven incline of the impromptu gymnasium.
He grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. He brushed back his hair. “What’cha think so far?”
“About what?” A burst of speed and I caught up with the runaway stick. We might not have had powers in the Community, but they were certainly useful.
Lance gestured to the railing above us. “This place. The Coalition.”
“I guess it’s not bad. But I prefer the Community. The only problem is that they hide the truth about our powers.”
Lance smirked and came at me again. I tried blocking the strike, but he switched angles at the last minute. “What about the pill? And the Camaraderie turning people into beasties?”
I winced, rubbing my new bruise. “I’m still not sure I believe that. Superpowers—okay, they’ve proved that one. But turning people into monsters? You’ve got to admit, it doesn’t make sense biologically.”
“Yeah... because you know so much about biology.”
I glared at him.
“And don’t forget how boring everything was.” He paused, sizing up my movements. “Ready to go faster?”
“Not really.”
Lance chuckled and then tossed me another short staff.
Two? What was I supposed to do with two?
I dodged his first attack, but I hadn’t counted on Lance’s powers being so helpful. He disarmed me in seconds and I fell, landing on my back. Pain radiated from my chest. I grumbled, pushing myself off the floor as Lance hurriedly offered me his hand. He pulled me up, then stared at me longer than usual.
“Lance?” I waved at him. “You okay?”
“Sorry.” His lips twisted into a faint smile. He pointed. “You’ve got a hair in your face. Want to try again?”
I grimaced and brushed away the stray hair. “I’m good, thanks.” I wasn’t particularly interested in trying again until I could stay upright for longer than five seconds. Time to switch the subject. “I’ve been reading one of Jim’s history books.”
Lance wrinkled his nose and grabbed my fallen staff. “Any good?”
“It’s not Community.”
Lance grinned. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.” He elbowed me in the shoulder and I winced. There was a bruise there, too.
“Since when did you become so anti-Community?” I asked.
“Since I found out they wanted to turn me into a monster.” He put the training weapons aside and sat on the floor, stretching his fingers to his toes. “Besides, the Community’s boring. There’s no excitement.” He paused. “Do you remember when we used to pick blackberries off the neighbor’s bush?”
I nodded. Walking home from school, we used to take the back alley to our parents’ houses. One time I noticed a dark blackberry poking out from a broken slat in the fence. The neighbors could’ve been fined because the fence hadn’t been repaired in a timely manner. The berry was ripe, and touching it left a deep purple-red juice stain on my fingertips. Lance had stopped behind me, then popped the berry into his mouth.
“What if someone saw you?” I’d hissed, as much enraged that he’d stolen the berry as I was that he hadn’t offered it to me.
He reached his pocket knife into the splintery hole. “I’m doing them a favor.” He offered me the sawed-off branch, and on it was a single berry, slightly smaller than the first. “Want it?”
I’d shaken my head. Maybe he could get away with it, being a security official’s son, but I couldn’t. “No thanks,” I said, though blackberries were seasonal and our bush hadn’t produced much that year.
The hole in the fence was less noticeable now, and thanks to Lance’s work, the neighbors had a little more time to fix it before an inspector noticed. Having uniform appearances meant everything—which was why the backyard was fenced, the front yard neatly mowed, and the house touched up whenever the paint peeled. It prevented jealousy.
We decided then that if we kept the alley free of berries, we were doing them a favor, and as a result, we’d had a summer of blackberries.
“I remember,” I said.
“Back then, we were helping them, even though they weren’t following all the rules. They didn’t deserve to be fined. It’s the same here.” Lance paused. “As long as we’re here, we’re in this together, right?” He held out his hand.
“Right,” I said, and in one downward shake, my chest clenched. I couldn’t go home until I knew the truth. But if the rebels were right, then we could never return. Not with our powers.
Not with Lance’s tendency to bend the rules.
Several days after the sparring incident with Lance, Pops caught me in the hall on my way to training. I stopped, halfway up the stairs, as he tapped his cane on the floor for attention. He held two small bundles under his arm. “You aren’t easy to keep up with,” he said.
I frowned. The airship was too small to avoid anyone.
“I’ve been around. What do you want?”
“As much as I’d like to keep you safe, you may be needed on the ground. We have too few people otherwise.” He offered me the bundles. “I hope these will protect you.”
If he wanted a fighter, I wasn’t the right person for the job. All he had to do is sit in on one of Jack’s sparring sessions to see that. “I haven’t agreed to join your rebellion.”
“I won’t ask you to fight for us,” he reassured me. “But you wanted to see the truth for yourself, correct?”
I nodded hesitantly.
“While I will do my best to keep you out of harm’s way, there is no guarantee that danger won’t find you,” Pops continued. “My best course of action, then, is to make sure you are able to defend yourself.”
I had been hounding them for proof. I took the bundles and unwrapped the faded paper, which had been printed with an assortment of pale colors and shapes. A small vine fell from the wrapping. The vine was connected to a long pouch made from white fabric. The pouch contained damp soil and nutrients.
“What’s this?” I asked, gingerly twining the tender vine around my index finger. It was kind of cute.
“Armbands.” Pops fastened one around my upper arm. His cologne was like what Community leaders wore—far too strong. “Now you can always have a weapon on you.”
I wrinkled my nose and tried convincing the vine to grow, but it barely nuzzled my sleeve.
“Perhaps you could imagine the vines like mint, and urge them to grow the way you convinced mint to grow. It’s all about convincing the target to do what it already wants to do: in this case, flourish. You used to care for mint in secondary school, didn’t you?” He looked at me with a genuinely curious expression across his wrinkled face.
I suppressed a shudder. During my freshman year of high school I’d grown mint on my windowsill. It wasn’t in any records; I’d kept it to myself.
Still, I tried imagining the little plastic pot sitting in my window, the one with a couple centimeters of mint poking through the dirt. I’d watered it once a week, on Tuesdays, and checked it each day before the sun rose. One morning I found numerous fragrant, tiny leaves waiting for attention while the original one stood several centimeters tall.
I opened my eyes, and at my command a small vine crept from the root plant. Warmth fluttered through my chest. “That’s cool,” I said, watching the writhing tendril unfold. Pops handed me the second armband and let me wrap it myself. The thing felt odd, but at the same time, completely natural.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Pops hobbled up the metal stairs, leaving me with a feeling of unsettled pride. He knew me too well.
I continued to the training room, and Lance nearly collided with me as I entered. He gave my vines a funny look.
“Uh, Jenna?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re wearing vines.”
I stroked the thin tendrils, twirling them through my fingers, and grinned. “Yep. Personalized weapons.”
“Uh-huh.” Lance took a second look at the armbands and chuckled. “We might make a fighter of you yet.” He scowled and crossed his arms, giving his best impression of Jack. It wasn’t half-bad.
I smirked. “They’re plants. I don’t think I’m going to be fighting anyone with these.”
“I don’t know about that. Plants can be pretty scary.” He leaned against the stair’s railing and winced as he found a bruise. “Have you ever heard of a honey locust tree? One of the North American transfer students said those things are nasty. Has thorns this long.” He motioned with his hands and grinned. “Or Venus fly traps. Or... something poisonous.”
“Knapweed, if you’re a horse.”
“Exactly. So, what can you do with a vine?”
I couldn’t hide my smile. This was the Lance I remembered. The guy I’d been friends with for so long. Not reassuring, though, considering we were deciding just how dangerous a plant was. I shook my head. “I guess I could strangle people?”
“There ya go. Or maybe you could make grass grow really tall and hide me when I ambush one of those beasties.” He patted my back. “Come on. You don’t want to be late for training with your new weapons.”
“Ambush the beasties? You want to fight?” I stared at him. “You’re crazy.”
But it made sense. I could use the vines to defend myself.
While Jack continued training me personally in hand-to-hand combat, I focused on using my new vines instead of conventional weapons. Most of my practice was dodging, rolling, disarming, and generally staying out of the way since I didn’t have the strength to parry.
The more I practiced, the better I understood how to use Pops’ gift—and what he meant by urging the plant to do what it already wanted. It was all preparation for missions if we decided to stick around, and considering we knew nothing about living in South Africa, practice didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Especially if we wanted proof of what the rebels were saying.
In mid-November, Pops began spending most of his time in his office. Though I’d tried to be patient, I had to find some way to contact my parents. They would be worried sick if they’d heard about my disappearance. I rattled the handle of his door, but it was locked. With no success there, I sought out Crush and found him in the command room. Warm air radiated from the constant use of computers and flickering screens.
Crush barely glanced at me before he returned to typing. I positioned myself behind him, catching the vines of my armbands between my fingers as I watched the screen. It showed Guatemala. The map turned into a satellite image before zooming in on dense jungle. Sections of it were blurred out, unreadable.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Crush ran his fingers across his short hair. “We haven’t had any contact with Gwen for the past three days. She should have checked in by now.”
“Maybe something’s blocking her signal. Or maybe she’s busy.”
He frowned. “We have protocols for missions like this. Something’s wrong. We may have to go to ground.” He lowered his eyes and took a long breath. “Problem is, we don’t have the people to do it. This is the kind of reconnaissance Alec would usually do.”
I licked my lips, glancing back to the screen.
I’d always wanted to see a rainforest, and I did want to see the outside world... see if what the rebels were saying was real.
“Tell Pops I want to help,” I said, “and I’m sure Lance will, too.”
Crush turned. “Jenna—”
“I want to see what’s out there, and this way we can help you find Gwen.”
“You don’t have to make up for anything,” he said gently. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you can’t take his place. Life doesn’t work like that.”
I swallowed hard. “I understand.”
“Then I’ll let Pops know. And Jenna—” He relaxed his shoulders and looked back at the screen. “Thank you. I don’t want to lose Gwen, too.” He gave me a sad smile and returned to work.
I decided to wait to ask him about my parents. They would already know that I was gone, and it couldn’t be much different than the usual deal when someone got theophrenia. Not if the Community was as big into keeping secrets as Pops said.
