When Lyra marches into the barracks, I’m curled up in my bed, holding my middle and facing the wall. I’ve pulled the covers over my head, intentionally trying to look like a lump.
“Azrael,” she yells.
I don’t move, don’t even breathe.
“That little …” She grabs the cover and yanks it off.
“Hey!” I exclaim, wincing and moaning as I hold my ribs. The pain isn’t nearly that bad anymore, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I was trying to sleep. I was almost out. Ow. Ow. Ow.”
She grunts and marches out, leaving the cover on the floor.
“Could use my cover back. They keep it too damn cold in here. Too damn cold!”
I sit up and pick up my blanket. Several Eklyptors are turning in for the night. Crashing on their beds, looking exhausted. Down toward the door, Lamia is changing, her vicious eyes casting glances my way. Her long tail springs out of a hole in the back of her pants. She wears a long braid that makes it look as if she actually has two tails. They swing in unison as she moves around getting her bed ready. When she sits to take off her shoes, her tail beats the pillow, fluffing it. I stare at her additional extremity, fascination and disgust clashing in my gut. Her upper lip curls. I avert my eyes toward a woman as tough-looking as Lamia. Except for Onyx and I, everyone here resembles a soldier.
Once more, I find myself wondering how much longer it’ll be before they get rid of me. I should probably take Onyx up on her offer to work in the kitchen; maybe I could even slip rat poison in the soup while I’m at it.
I’m not ready to leave yet, and when I am, it’ll be on my own terms, and not before I’ve done all the damage I can, which includes stealing whatever information Elliot keeps in the server under his desk.
Before I left his office, I plugged a thumb drive to a USB port in the back of the computer. When he logs back in, a little program will run and capture every keystroke he makes, including his password. After that, getting in will be a breeze.
So for now, I may as well try to sleep and dream that my hack will help save the world somehow. I close my eyes, imagining life before The Takeover, willing things to fold into a shape I recognize. Beyond my closed lids, I see my room. I pretend I hear the cooling fans of my computer humming. I think my alarm clock is set for 5:30 in the morning and I’ll get up and go to the dojo for early practice. After that, there’ll be school, and I’ll suffer through that with dignity, trying not to slobber on my books as I nod off. When school finally lets out, I’ll hop on my bike and drive to Millennium Arcade where Xave … where Xave …
My eyes spring open as I snap back into my detestable reality, while my past is obscured by a thick fog. Peaceful sleep fails me once more. There are no good dreams—only nightmares all around.
* * *
When I get up in the morning, I stretch, testing my ribs. The pain is practically gone. I talk to Onyx before she leaves to guide her troops in the preparation of breakfast. I tell her I want that job in the kitchen, washing dishes, cutting vegetables, whatever. I tell her my ribs should feel better by tomorrow and I can start then. She’s delighted. No one treats her with any respect or friendliness. The fact that I do seems to make her happy. I think that’s why she wants me around.
As soon as the barracks are empty, I check my sleeper hack. So far, there’s been no activity, but it’s early. Someone will surely log in after breakfast. I wait all morning, compulsively checking for signs of life on the server. Nothing.
I pace in front of my bed, biting my nails and going stir crazy. I try Aydan a few times, hoping for a chat, but there are no signs of him. Just when I think I might lose it, Elliot logs in and, just like that, I get his password. A warm feeling spreads inside of me: overdue satisfaction of an exquisite vintage.
“I got you, now,” I say under my breath.
He doesn’t stay logged in very long, but he gave me all I needed.
After an hour perusing files, emails and schedules, I understand why they took extra measures to secure this information. This is what I’ve been hoping for. This is enough to show James and the others that I’m worth a second chance, that I can help them make a difference in this fight.
I download every last bit of data, the warm feeling inside of me spreading to every corner of my body. I think if I were to lie down right now, I would finally sleep the way a person with a clear conscious sleeps. I might even start to believe I deserve that kind of peace.
* * *
I’m dying to see Aydan, to deliver into his hands what I’ve found, but I can’t. I can’t leave. Not with Lyra breathing down my back the way she’s been doing. So I put out a signal for him, ask him to connect at lunch or dinner—as soon as he can. I think of my stolen phone still hidden in the fire hose case, probably out of charge. I wish I could text him, but I can’t risk anyone seeing me with it and hiding for more than a few minutes to charge the thing and text isn’t possible, not with Ms. Pussy Cat checking on me when I least expect it. Here, out in the open, pretending to play silly video games, is my safest bet.
So I wait and wait again, going even crazier than I was going earlier, itching to tell someone that we can tip the scales in this fight, that one sixteen-year-old girl that wasn’t strong enough when it counted most can fight a little harder and still make a difference, that maybe they shouldn’t give up on her. Not just yet.
Aydan doesn’t contact me until dinner. When he comes online, I feel like tearing into him, demanding what took him so long, as if he didn’t have anything better to do than sit there waiting for me to solve the world’s problems with my flawless hacking skills. Instead, I find myself wondering where he’s been, what he’s been eating, what fears keep him up at night.
Again, I have to wait. At first, I thought I’d just give this to Aydan. I know it’s reckless to make demands, to leave when I’m being watched so closely, but James and the others have to know I’m with them. They have to know I’m trying to make up for my mistakes. They have to understand I’m still one of them.
A human who thought herself strong and, in doing so, made an irreversible mistake, one she will take to her grave, even as she dies fighting to erase it.