Children of the Uprising Page 34

  “Yeah,” Christopher responded.

  “That’s why you’re here?” Jared asked him.

  “Yes,” Christopher answered.

  “You’re not here because you want an apology?” Jared looked at Maria. “She’s not here because she wants an apology? You just want to know the plan?”

  “Yes,” Christopher repeated.

  “Okay,” Jared said. “That’s good. Because I’m not going to apologize to you or to her.”

  “Okay,” Christopher said with a raised chin.

  “The way I figure it, there’s only one person who I might owe an apology to and it’s not you and it’s not her.” Jared pointed at Maria.

  “I told you, I’m not asking for an apology. I only want to talk about the plan. I only want this all to be over.”

  “Me too,” Jared said. That was enough of a thread to pull them together. Jared began to tell Christopher about the plan. He told Christopher about the targets, about the buildings, about the bridges, and about the bombs. Christopher imagined explosions and screams coming from all over the city, all a mere diversion so that no one would pay attention to the real target. Christopher assumed that they’d use bombs there too. They could take out all four floors in one blow.

  “That’s insane,” Christopher said. “Why do we need to hurt all these innocent people?”

  “Innocent?” Jared spoke to Christopher as if he were the only other person in the room. He didn’t care about Maria or Reggie. He only cared about the Child, about his best friend’s son.

  “They’re innocent,” Christopher repeated. “They’ve got nothing to do with this War.”

  “Just because they’re not part of our War doesn’t mean they’re innocent,” Jared said. “Everybody hates somebody. Most people just don’t keep a list. You tell me who’s more innocent: the ten-year-old who was born into the War but hasn’t been told about it yet or the thirty-year-old who’s spent the better part of his life ignoring the evidence that the War exists. Who is more innocent? Tell me.”

  “I don’t do riddles,” Christopher said.

  “Well, you should,” Jared told Christopher, “because solving riddles is the only way you’re ever going to get answers to any questions around here.”

  “There has to be a better way,” Christopher said.

  “There’s not. We can cut corners to save the lives of some strangers, but every corner we cut makes it less likely that the plan is going to work. We’re only going to get one chance at this. Brian and Reggie have already agreed.” Jared looked up at Reggie. “I heard that they’re the ones in charge. What makes you think you have a say in this anyway? How long have you been a part of this War? Four weeks?” Jared shook his head. “What do you know, really? Your father understood how little he knew and he’d been knee-deep in the War for years before he died.”

  “Before you killed him?” Christopher said before Maria could.

  “Before I killed him,” Jared confirmed.

  The anger began to rise within Christopher. “It doesn’t matter what I know. I get a say because this is my revolution,” Christopher told Jared, clenching his fists. “This is my Uprising. It’s mine and Addy’s and Evan’s. It’s not yours. You had your chance. You all had your chance. You wasted it. You could have had your own revolution, but you chose to kill your best friend instead. So don’t tell me how little I know.”

  “Your Uprising?” Jared asked with a smile. He liked the kid’s fire. He appreciated the fire.

  “Yes,” Christopher said through clenched teeth. Christopher finally realized what he wanted. He felt it in him. He didn’t want power or glory. He didn’t want fame. He wanted this all to end, sure, but before that happened he wanted something else. “After everything I’ve been through,” Christopher said, glancing at Reggie and Maria, “I want some control over my own life. I know you guys did what you did to protect me, and I appreciate it, but that’s over.”

  Jared laughed. “You want control?”

  “Yes,” Christopher answered.

  “Take it from somebody who knows, control is an illusion, kid,” Jared replied.

  “Don’t listen to him, Christopher,” Maria said, nearly shouting. “You can control your life. You can.” She ran up to Christopher, grabbed his hand, and stared into his eyes. “That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s all your father wanted for you. He never had it. Neither did I. But you can, and if this is what you need to do to get it, then don’t listen to him,” Maria said, shooting daggers at Jared with her eyes.

  Christopher looked up at Reggie and Reggie said, “I know I’ve been walking a thin line, trying to use you to start this Uprising but trying to protect you at the same time. I thought that was what would be best for you, but this is your Uprising. It doesn’t exist without you. Remember, whatever you decide to do impacts a lot more people than the four of us.”

  Christopher didn’t say anything. He took in what Maria and Reggie said to him, the gifts that they’d bestowed on him, and then he turned back to Jared.

  “Well, then,” Jared said, “if this is your Uprising, let me give you some advice. They’re not going to care about collateral damage or hurting innocent people when they see you coming. They’re going to do whatever it takes to destroy your Uprising. They have rules for when they fight each other but not for when they fight you. They know full well what they have—what you’re trying to take from them. It’s not just history. It’s a history stripped bare of pleasantries. It’s a history of hate and fear. Whoever controls that part of history has all the power.” Jared leaned forward, closer to Christopher. “I’ve seen what they do to dissidents. I’ve been there. They showed me. They wanted me to learn in case I was thinking of following in my friends’ footsteps. I’ve heard the screams. I’ve seen the blood and the torn flesh. You’re a kid. You don’t know the wrath of what you’re about to go up against. I do. I know what will happen to all of us if you fail. So, if this is your Uprising, then I suggest you drop the sentimentality and do whatever it takes to win it.”

  Sixty

  The start of the Uprising was only twelve hours away and everywhere was quiet. It was quiet in Tokyo. It was quiet in Cambodia and in Istanbul and in Paris. It was quiet in Rio and in Costa Rica. It was even quiet in New York. The quiet wasn’t going to last. It had been a week since Christopher met with Jared that first night. At first, Christopher didn’t think one week was enough time. Then Reggie explained to him that each of the plans was almost complete, that all that was left, for the most part, were minor details and logistics. “The most dangerous part now is the waiting,” Reggie told Christopher. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that somebody who knows something leaks information or gets caught. If someone gets caught, there’s a good chance they might give something away. Even the best people crack under certain extreme pressures.”

  “Are you sure that’s enough time?”

  “People have been waiting for almost as long as you’ve been alive. It’s enough time.”

  “Okay,” Christopher said to Reggie, his heart pounding. “Tell everyone to get ready.”

  So Reggie and Brian sent the word out. Everyone scattered back to their home bases to prepare. They had seven days and now those seven days had dwindled to twelve hours. It was nearing noon in New York. The explosives had been planted throughout the city the night before. No matter how the night ended, the quiet wasn’t going to last.

  Evan was walking through the makeshift halls of the warehouse in Brooklyn, looking for Christopher. He’d heard that Christopher wanted to talk to him. The place seemed empty now that most people had gone back to their homes in South America or Central America or wherever else they were headed to prepare for their part in the Uprising. Only ten of them remained: Christopher, Evan, Addy, Reggie, Brian, Maria, and four others who had nowhere else to go. Evan had been with Addy. They wanted to be alone together one mo
re time, in case it was the last time. Every time Evan entered Addy, the two of them were blissfully tightening the knots in the ropes that would bind them together forever. This last time, they were slow and patient, trying to pretend that it never had to end. Then it ended.

  The halls were quiet. The loudest sound that Evan could hear was the sound of his own footsteps on the concrete floors. He walked slowly toward the back of the building where Christopher slept and stayed when he wanted to be alone. “Chris,” Evan called out, turning another corner. “Are you there?”

  “I’m over here.” Evan heard a voice coming from his right, from the makeshift office. It really wasn’t much more than a cheap desk and three chairs, but it served its purpose.

  Evan peeked through the doorway. “I heard you were looking for me,” Evan said to Christopher. Christopher was sitting behind the desk, staring at a bunch of papers that he’d laid out. He felt overwhelmed and inadequate, but at least he was doing something. At least he had that.

  “I was,” Christopher said. “I wanted to talk to you about tonight, about the plan. I talked to Reggie. There’s something that we want you to do.”

  “I told you that I want to go in with you,” Evan said. “I don’t want to be stuck on the sidelines. I’m only here because of you. We should be in this together.”

  “You’ve got other reasons to be here now,” Christopher said to Evan. Evan knew that Christopher was talking about Addy. “But I told you that I would find something for you,” Christopher said. “I promised.”

  “So what is it?” Evan asked. “And don’t you dare give me some bullshit job so you can say that you kept your promise.”

  “It’s not a bullshit job,” Christopher said. “I need to explain the plan to you first, though.” Christopher looked at the papers on the desk in front of him. “There’s a little more to it than what I think you probably know.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Tell me what you know first.”

  “I know about the bombs,” Evan said. “I know that they’re meant to be a distraction to keep civilians away from the Intelligence Center. I know that once those bombs go off, a team is going to attack the Intelligence Center. I heard that the plan was to blow that up too.”

  “That’s all you know?” Christopher asked.

  “I haven’t really been kept in the loop.”

  “I know,” Christopher said. “I wanted to protect you. Just because I had no choice to become a part of this doesn’t mean you had to too. Then I realized that I need you, so here we are.”

  “You need me?” Evan repeated it to make sure he’d heard Christopher correctly.

  “Yes,” Christopher said.

  “What for?” Evan asked.

  “We’re afraid to use bombs in the Intelligence Center,” Christopher told Evan. “It’s too risky. Even if we brought the whole building down, some of the information might survive. We have to make sure we destroy all of it. There are no moral victories.”

  “Then what are you going to do? You can’t exactly shred it all.”

  “No. Instead of bombs, we’re going to use this flammable gas that Jared told us about. He said he’d heard about it being used in the past but on a smaller scale. It’s highly flammable. It catches easily. It burns extremely hot and burns out fast.”

  “What has it been used for in the past?” Evan asked. Even he didn’t trust Jared.

  “I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know but Brian knew about it too. Brian confirmed that the gas would work,” Christopher said. “The Intelligence Center covers five stories. Each story requires about one tank of gas. Six of us are going to go in—each one of us with a tank of gas. That gives us one extra tank in case one of us doesn’t make it. Once inside, we’re going to seal the place up so that the gas can’t leak out. We’ll seal the doors and the windows. We’ll make sure that all of the inner drawers and doors are open. Then we’ll release the gas. It will only take a few minutes for the rooms to fill up. We figure fifteen minutes at most. Then, all it will take is one small spark and the whole place will burn in seconds. Everything in it will turn to dust. Once we’ve let all the gas out, we’ll get the hell out of there.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “You’re the spark. Once we’re out, we’ll need someone to light the fire. Remember, it only takes one spark. We want you to be on top of the building across the street. We’ve got a rifle for you. All you need to do is take one shot into the building. You don’t even have to hit anything. One shot and everything will burn.”

  “Why do you need me for that, Chris? Anybody could do that.”

  “Yeah, Reggie had given the job to somebody else. I asked him to let you do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because whoever is on that roof is also going to have a radio. Whoever is on that roof is going to be our eyes on the world. You’re going to tell us what’s happening outside.”

  “I still don’t get why you need me.”

  Christopher looked at Evan. “I want it to be your voice that I hear on the radio because you’re still the only real friend I have.” Christopher hesitated before saying anything else, but then decided to go on. “I want it to be your voice on the radio because I’m afraid.” There was a tremor in Christopher’s voice. “I think that hearing your voice will make me less afraid.”

  “What are we going to do when the War is over, Chris?” Evan asked. “It’s not like we can go home. We’re not just a couple of loser kids in Maine anymore. We’re fugitives now. Tonight isn’t going to change that. In a lot of ways, we fit in better inside the War than out of it. In here, we’re revolutionaries. Out there, we’re nothing but a couple of criminals.”

  “It’ll be different when the War ends,” Christopher promised Evan, trying to convince himself that the words were true even as he said them. “Addy said we should all move to an island where no one would recognize us.”

  “That sounds nice,” Evan said, though he couldn’t picture it in his head.

  “So, do you want to be the guy who fires the shot that ends the War?”

  The start of the Uprising was only twelve hours away and Jared was sitting in his office trying to pretend that everything was normal. He was getting ready to go to lunch when he received a call from one of the secretaries. He was being summoned to one of the corner offices. They didn’t tell him why.

  Jared hung up the phone. He took a second to compose himself. Lying wasn’t an issue for him. He did that every day—to himself, to others. He wasn’t nervous about the lying, but he had hoped to escape the day without any bullshit. On most days the bullshit was a mere annoyance, but today it could be trouble. Jared had a schedule to keep and things that he needed to do, though nothing he had to do was as important as making everything appear normal. He knew that. So he composed himself, stood up, and made his way toward the office as he’d been ordered to do.

  The door to the office was half open. Jared knocked anyway before sticking his head inside. “I was about to go grab some lunch, but I heard that you wanted to see me,” Jared said to the man sitting behind the desk. The man was another wunderkind, another boy ten years Jared’s junior who was making decisions that Jared would never be given the authority to make.

  “Jared,” the man said when he saw Jared leaning through the doorway. “Yeah, come in. I wanted to talk to you.” Jared took a few steps into the office. “Close the door behind you.”

  Jared did as he was told, closing the door and cutting them off from the rest of the office. “Sit down,” the man behind the desk ordered Jared, motioning to one of the plush leather chairs on the other side of his desk.

  “This can’t wait?” Jared protested. “Can’t we talk after lunch?”

  “No. This can’t wait,” the man said, deadly serious. “Sit down.”

  “All right.” Jared sat. “What’s going on, Peter
?”

  Peter tapped his fingers on the desk. “Have you heard anything about Christopher recently?” he asked Jared. Jared should have been more ready for the question than he was, but he’d seen no evidence that anyone was suspicious of anything.

  “Not since we lost him in Singapore,” Jared lied. “Since then, it’s been radio silence.”

  “I got a report this morning that claims that he was spotted in Istanbul over a week ago and that the last anyone saw of him, he was boarding a flight to New York. You don’t know anything about that?”

  Jared shrugged. “We hear rumors all the time. People see the kid everywhere. He’s like Elvis or Bigfoot. I haven’t heard anything that could be substantiated. What makes you think this rumor is real?”

  “It’s not a rumor. They’ve got airport surveillance photos. I’ve seen them. How could you not hear about this?”

  “They don’t show me things that they don’t show you first,” Jared told Peter, deciding on flattery as his first defense. “What does it mean anyway? Even if it’s true, you said that it was over a week ago. He’d be long gone by now.”

  “Yeah,” Peter began to agree, “or he could still be in New York, planning something.”

  “Planning something?” Jared laughed. “He’s a kid. He’s worse than a kid. He’s a kid with no experience. How could he plan anything? Are you really afraid of this kid?”

  “He’s survived this long. Nobody expected that,” Peter said, staring at Jared.

  “Luck,” Jared said, not liking where this conversation was going.

  “Maybe,” Peter conceded. “Or maybe he’s working with people.” Peter leaned in toward Jared. “Maybe he’s got people on the inside who want to help him.”

  “You think we have spies?” Jared feigned surprise.

  “I don’t know. What do you think? You’ve been around here longer than anybody.”