Deadlocked (Book 8): Sons of Reagan Read online

  The Administrators might’ve tried to pass it off as if we’d been selected for Surface Status, but they rarely did that without some fanfare beforehand. They were always interested in ensuring us that achieving Surface Status was a mighty honor, and girls that were slated for such were treated as heroes during their last days. Hailey and I never received such adulation, and our exposure to the man that fell from the ceiling would’ve convinced the Dawns that our disappearance was tied to the event. I was certain they hadn’t stopped chattering about it since we’d been gone.

  It was the middle of the day, after my lunch had been delivered, that mother appeared on the view screen. She normally only consulted with me in the morning and occasionally at night, so I knew this was important. I sprang to my feet and stood dutifully upon the grey footprints as her picture materialized on the screen. As always, I found myself staring at my digital twin.

  “Mother,” I said with a chipper tone. “This is a surprise.”

  “Sorry to bother you.”

  “No bother at all,” I replied with a cheery grin.

  She eyed me suspiciously and I became worried that I was trying too hard. “We’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

  “Which offer is that?”

  “For you to meet with one of the Dawns.”

  I tried not to smile too much, but failed. “Oh thank you. Thank you so much. It’s going to be so good to speak with someone else; someone real. Not that you’re not real. You know what I mean. Mother, thank you. I promise not to do anything wrong. I promise.”

  “I know you won’t,” she said with assuredness. “Because if you do, then I can guarantee you’ll be sitting in here alone for the rest of your life. We’re going to send you a list of facts that you need to stick to. If you stray in even the slightest, then your visitor will be removed. Understood?”

  I nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

  A frame appeared beside her and she expanded it until her visage was blocked. It was the list of facts that she’d mentioned before. “Read and memorize this list, Cobra. When you’re done, we’ll see about having a Dawn join you for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect,” I said as I began to read the list. “It sounds absolutely perfect.”

  This had happened so much faster than I’d anticipated, and I wondered if I was being tested. I didn’t allow myself to become concerned with that, at least not yet. There was too much to prepare for. Not only did I need to study the ‘Facts’ that mother had provided, I also had to figure out how to begin to infect whichever Dawn they sent to me with the rebellious intent I hoped to inspire.

  Ever since I’d decided to try and save the other Dawns, I knew that I needed to get them talking about a potential escape first. These girls were under the delusion that everything the Administrators had told them was true, and that they were destined for a perfect life on the surface. None of them had any idea about what truly lived above us.

  I couldn’t express anything directly to the Dawn that visited, but if I carefully selected certain words and topics, I hoped to inspire doubt. That had to be where I started. I couldn’t hope to cause any visitor to immediately leave my room and launch a revolution against the Administrators. Instead, I needed to plant that seed first, and get them talking amongst themselves.

  This might be my only chance. I had to be prepared.

  * * *

  “Cobra,” said Elise Dawn as she came bounding into my room. She was one of the blondes, and while the two of us had been friendly with one another in the past, she wasn’t someone I’d ever felt close with. Her hair was shorter than most of the girls, barely long enough to brush her shoulders, and she kept it that way because it curled when it grew any longer. She had large eyes with long lashes and was quick with a smile, though her manic energy kept her from ever focusing on one thing for more than a few minutes at a time. She wasn’t among the Dawns I’d secretly hoped would be sent in here. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  She started to rush forward as if to hug me, but then stopped, suddenly nervous, and put her arms behind her back. I stood from my bed and stepped over to her with my arms outstretched, as if giving her permission to touch me.

  I realized she was uncertain about my health, and the possibility of a contagion. I’d been right. Despite whatever the Administrators had told them, the Dawns thought my disappearance had something to do with the creature that had fallen from the ceiling right before my escape.

  “It’s okay,” I said as I hugged her. “I’m not sick anymore.”

  “So you…” she looked up at the corner of the room where a camera watched us. I could see that she was wary of the question. “You were sick?”

  She didn’t trust the Administrators, or at the very least she was aware that they were watching us in our rooms. This was good. This was how I could slowly stoke her fears, and thus infect the population here with the same concerns. By the way she spoke, I knew that she and the other Dawns had been lied to about Hailey’s and my disappearance. Allowing me to claim that I was sick (which was now one of the ‘Facts’ that mother had provided me with) would be the first time that the Dawns would know, without a doubt, that not everything the Administrators said was true.

  “I was, but not anymore. They fixed me. They made me better.” I didn’t point at the viewscreen. Instead, I pointed at the plain white wall.

  “They?” asked Elise. “You mean the Administrators?”

  I walked over to the wall, near one of the small indentions that traced what could’ve been a panel, but might also have been a door. I’d spent my entire life not knowing that there were passages behind these walls, and doors that I’d never seen opened. The first inclination I ever had of escape had been provoked by the sight of those guards emerging from secret doors in the walls. I hoped to inspire the same in Elise.

  I knew the next thing I said was risky, but I could argue that I thought other Dawns had seen the guards come from the walls that day when the zombie fell down on us. It was a reasonable thing to assume. “Yes, the Administrators and the others behind the walls.”

  Elise crinkled her brow as she asked, “Behind the walls?”

  I didn’t dare explore the topic anymore. I wanted to let that idea fester, and I didn’t want mother to think I was purposefully trying anything against her wishes. “I got sick because I hadn’t been following their orders. I screwed up, and I paid a big price for it.”

  “How’d you screw up?” she asked.

  “I stopped taking my pills at night.” I closed my eyes and shook my head as if this was an embarrassing topic. “I know, I know. You don’t even need to say it. I was just being stupid. I thought that if I stopped taking the pills that I could, I don’t know, escape in my dreams or something. It’s silly. And trust me, it wasn’t worth it.”

  “We all thought…” again, Elise glanced at the camera. “Nothing, never mind.”

  “You thought Hailey and I were dead?”

  She nodded. “Well, some of us thought you were dead, and others thought they sent you out with Paris and Echo.”

  “No. I wish I’d gotten up there with Paris and Echo to see the surface, but I was just stuck in here, sicker than ever.”

  “And what about Hailey?”

  “She’s still sick,” I said as I sat back down at my desk. “But she’s getting better. Or at least that’s what they tell me.” Again, I knew that was a dangerous thing to say. I infused my statement with just a niggling bit of doubt, doing what I could to reinforce the idea that we lived in an ‘us versus them’ environment.

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Elise. She looked around and then said, “Your room looks exactly like mine.”

  I instantly recalled Hailey saying something similar. I’d been sitting where I was now, and she’d been standing near where Elise was. The memory stung.

  “Did you think it would look any different?” I asked, making certain my tone hinted institutional boredom.

  “No
, I guess not,” she said. “Just sort of hoped it would. You know?”

  “They think these rooms will be okay,” I said. “But I can’t help but think of these walls as blank canvases. When I was little, I used to draw on them.” I laughed at the memory and touched my finger to the plain white. “Did you ever do that?”

  She shook her head and said, “No, I don’t think so. Did you get in trouble?”

  “Of course.”

  Elise rolled her eyes and said, “I bet.”

  We heard the lock of my outer door opening, initializing the clicking lock on my shower door. I thought my subterfuge was at an end and that the guards would be coming in to sweep up Elise and carry her away, dooming me to the solitude that mother had threatened. I held my breath while Elise looked back casually, unaware of the danger I’d placed us both in.

  The shower door clicked unlocked and the chime sounded again. My viewscreen displayed the explanation:

  ‘A special dinner has been delivered to your Ready Room.’

  “Oh,” said Elise with a smile, her attention seized by the delivery. “I wonder what they made for us. I’ll get it.”

  She went through the shower door, initiating the switch of locks that ensured the Dawns followed their routines. I recalled when the locks had been temporarily disabled. That was the day that Hailey had come into my room. As I watched Elise go through the glass door to retrieve our dinner, I recalled squeezing into the shower with Hailey, and I couldn’t quell the sorrow it inspired. I held my breath and looked up as tears threatened to well in my eyes. I tried my best to blink them away, and when Elise returned with our dinners I swiftly wiped my eyes clean.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she carried a tray with two plates into the room.

  “Fine, fine. I just almost sneezed. You know how that goes.”

  She looked at me with evident concern.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not sick anymore,” I said with a smile. “Here, you sit here.” I said as I got up. “I’ll sit on the floor.”

  “You sure?” she asked as she set the tray down on my otherwise empty desk.

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Make yourself comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as you can.” The seat at the desk was the only one in my room. Each morning the beds folded back up into the walls, only to come down again at bedtime. “I wish they’d let us have our beds during the day, but you know how it goes. Rules are rules and all that.”

  She wasn’t paying attention to my complaining. Elise lifted off the bowl that covered one of the two plates. “Oh yum,” she said. Steam rose up and into her nostrils as she took a deep breath. “Steak and sweet potatoes. Wow, Cobra. Have they been feeding you like this since you’ve been sick?”

  I recalled one of the ‘Facts’ mother had provided:

  ‘We’ve been taking good care of you, and feeding you better than normal to help you get better.’

  I wondered what the purpose of such a lie was, but I knew I needed to stick to the script. I nodded and said, “Yes, they said it was to help me get better.”

  “You’re so lucky,” said Elise. “I get so sick of the same thing all the time.”

  I needed to turn this in my favor somehow. It didn’t do me any good to have Elise leave here with stories to tell the other Dawns about how wonderful they were treating me. “I know what you mean. Apparently the people on the surface eat like this all the time. Even Echo and Paris are eating food like this now instead of that awful gruel we get.”

  “Seriously?” she asked with obvious jealousy.

  I nodded and said, “Yep. You have to eat well up there so that your immune system is stronger. Down here it doesn’t matter so much. They keep everything down here sterile all the time. That’s why the food’s so bland.”

  “Wow,” said Elise as she handed me my plate of food. The steak had already been cut into bite-sized pieces so that they didn’t have to give me a knife, and the sweet potatoes had been diced and drizzled with butter and brown sugar. “I can’t wait to get out of here and make it to the surface.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  I stabbed my fork into the meat.

  PART THREE – The End Begins

  11 – A Bridge between Us

  Annie Conrad

  I can’t explain what it was about that scream that had unsettled me so much, but I was more scared than I had been in months. Perhaps it was because I’d been holed away in the rehab center for so long, or perhaps I unconsciously picked up on the hell that was about to descend upon us. That woman, whoever she was, had seen or felt something that inspired the most gut-wrenching cry of terror that I’d heard in years.

  My palm was sweating as I gripped the pistol at my side. I kept my finger over the trigger guard and stayed stone-still, waiting for another sound to stir me to action. Ben and Harrison were nearby, and they’d each stopped as well, their concern plastered on their frozen faces.

  Finally, Harrison spoke up, “I think we need to get inside.”

  “Good idea,” said Ben as he picked up a satchel of supplies that Harrison had taken out of the Jeep.

  Stubs was smarter than the rest of us, and was already at the stoop. He pushed his nose at the door, which we hadn’t closed all the way, until it opened for him. He rushed inside, and I could hear the click of his nails on the kitchen tile as he set about exploring the new space.

  “Should we move the Jeep?” asked Ben.

  “No,” I said as I continued to stare out at our silent surroundings. “We shouldn’t risk something hearing the engine.”

  Ben nodded in agreement as he walked past me to go back into the house. I lingered there, next to the overgrown bushes that lined the small porch beside the front door, where former owners had rested in rattan chairs that had since been tossed about and shattered by decades of storms. The chairs’ crippled, twisted wood now looked demonic, with the patterned cushions split to reveal stuffing that had been plundered by birds for their nests.

  It was easy to look at a neighborhood like this and feel transported to the Red Days, but upon further inspection you always found evidence of the withering rot of time. As with most manmade things these days, these homes looked better from a distance. Long lost were the days where a happy couple might sit on this porch, in those rattan chairs, and share lemonade as they watched their children play.

  No children played on these streets anymore. Only the dead. Only ghosts.

  “Annie,” said Ben from the door. He beckoned me to him. “Come on. Help me cover the windows.”

  I imagined what it might be like to be a young couple in the Red Days, walking into their first home and planning the décor; debating where the couch should go or what curtains might best compliment the rug. The Greens had never known such comforts. To them, a new home meant the start of an arduous task of securing windows and doors, and setting traps to catch or kill any number of invaders.

  I went inside, but a tarrying depression came with me. I don’t have many memories of the Red Days, and the ones that stuck seem to be glued down by blood. I don’t long for those days because of memories, like most of the Reds who pine for that long-lost age, but I’m haunted by them just the same. The knowledge that we should’ve been better off, that my life could’ve been so much easier had I only been born a generation or two earlier, was something that bit at me all the time. Being in a place like this, a neighborhood in a middle-class suburb, was a taunting reminder of how unlucky I’d been.

  I tried to imagine my parents walking into their house for the first time. I had fleeting memories of that two-story home in Georgia, but couldn’t be certain what was real and what was fantasy. I remembered the garage that was connected to the kitchen, and how Kim and our father had been working on a dollhouse there. And I remembered the back door, and how cold the handle would get in the summer when we had the air conditioning blasting. There’s no rhyme or reason as to what memories a child retains, except when they’re cemented by tragedy; like how hearing my father’s cries
of pain on that dock had never left my nightmares.

  “We’ve got a problem,” said Ben as he stood by the large window that looked out onto the cul-de-sac. “We’ve got a big fucking problem.”

  “What?” I asked as I joined him. We were on the couch, perched on our knees as we stared past the curtains. Stubs jumped up between us and stood as high as his short frame would allow, bringing his nose just high enough to crest the cushion.

  A horde had followed us here, and were massing at the end of our street. There was no telling how many were still hidden behind the corner houses, but the crowd wasn’t sparse, and a quick count revealed at least fifty of the fresh dead had made their way onto our lonely suburban road.

  “They look like Poppers,” said Harrison as he stood behind us.

  “They’re fresh, that’s for sure,” said Ben. Some of the walking corpses had wounds that didn’t look more than a few days old, with flesh that still hung from them, blackened but not yet withered.

  “Raiders,” I said with certainty. “Look at how they’re dressed; most of them in camo gear. Some of them even have their packs strapped on their backs. I bet some Greys snuck up on a caravan out here.”

  “You think they heard the car?” asked Harrison.

  “It’s a safe bet,” said Ben as he closed the curtains so that only a small gap was left for us to spy through. “Problem for us is going to be how long they stick around here. Fuck.” He sighed as he looked around and weighed our options. “We could try and wait them out, or we could take off out the back. But if we leave, we’re going to lose the supplies we’ve got in the Jeep.”

  “And if we stay…” Harrison laughed at how ridiculous that option was and motioned out at the street. “Right? I mean, if we stay we’ve got to deal with that. We haven’t even secured this fucking place yet.”