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Day, have you forgotten? June killed your mother.
Pascao tugs on my arm again and forces me to face him, then leads me to the back of the group. “Listen up, Day,” he whispers again. “There’s a shipment coming into Lamar tonight, by train. It’ll have cartloads of guns, gear, food, and whatever else for the warfront soldiers, along with a whole ensemble of lab equipment. We’re going to steal some supplies and destroy a railcar’s worth of grenades on it. That’s our mission tonight.”
Now June’s talking to the guard standing near the door, but I can barely hear her. Razor’s done addressing the room and has fallen deep into conversation with two other Patriots, both of them occasionally gesturing up at the screen, then drawing out something on their palms. “What’s the point of blowing up a cartload of grenades?” I ask.
“This mission is the decoy assassination. The Elector was originally scheduled to come here to Lamar, at least before June had a talk with him. Our mission tonight should convince the Elector, if he isn’t convinced already, that June was telling him the truth. Plus, it’ll be a nice chance to steal a few grenades.” Pascao rubs his hands together with almost maniacal glee. “Mmmm. Nitroglycerin.” I raise an eyebrow. “Me and three other Runners are gonna do the train job, but we’ll need a special Runner to distract the soldiers and guards.”
“What do you mean, special?”
“What I mean,” Pascao says pointedly, “is that this is why Razor decided to recruit you, Day. This is our first chance to show the Republic that you’re alive. It’s why Kaede had you strip the dye from your hair. When word gets out that you were seen in Lamar, taking down a Republic train, people are gonna go nuts. The Republic’s notorious little criminal, still up and about even after the government’s attempt to execute him? If that doesn’t stir up people’s sense of rebellion, nothing will. That’s what we’re aiming for—chaos. By the time we’re done, the public will be so pumped about you that they’ll be salivating for revolution. It’s the perfect atmosphere for the Elector’s assassination.”
Pascao’s excitement makes me smile a little. Messing with the Republic? This is what I was born to do. “Give me more details,” I say, moving my hand in a come-hither gesture.
Pascao checks to make sure Razor’s still going through the plans with the others, then winks at me. “Our team is gonna unhook the grenade railcar a couple of miles from the station—by the time we get there, I don’t want there to be more than a handful of soldiers guarding the train. Be careful, now. There usually aren’t many troops near those train tracks, but tonight’s different. The Republic will be on the hunt for us after hearing June’s warning about the decoy assassination. Watch for extra soldiers. Buy us the time we need, and make sure they spot you.”
“Fine. I’ll get you your time.” I cross my arms and point at him. “You just tell me where I need to go.”
Pascao grins and slaps me hard on the back. “Great. You’re the best Runner out of us by far—you’ll throw those soldiers off without a hitch. Join up with me in two hours near the entrance where you came in. We’re gonna have a ball.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, and don’t mind Baxter. He’s just sore that you get special treatment from both me and Tess.”
As soon as he walks away, my eyes go back to the video screen and stay frozen on June’s figure. As it continues playing, pieces of Razor’s conversation with the other Patriots reach me. “—enough to hear what’s going on,” he’s saying. “She has him in position.”
On the video, June seems to be dozing, with her knees tucked up to her chin. There’s no sound at all this time, but I don’t think much of it. Then I see someone step inside her cell, a young man with dark hair and an elegant black cloak. It’s the Elector. He bends down and starts talking to her, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. When he gets close to her, June tenses up. I can feel the blood draining from my face. All the chatter and bustle around me fades into the distance. The Elector puts a hand under June’s chin and brings her face toward his own. He is taking something that I thought was just for me, and I feel a sudden, shattering sense of loss. I want to rip my eyes away, but even from the corner of my vision, I can still see him kissing her. It seems to last forever.
I watch numbly as they finally pull away from each other and the Elector steps out of the room, leaving June alone, curled up on the bed. What’s going through her mind right now? I can’t watch any longer. I’m about to turn my back, ready to follow Pascao out of the crowd and away from this scene.
But then something catches my eye. I look up at the monitor. And just in time, I see June hold up two fingers to her brow in our signal.
* * *
It’s past midnight when Pascao, me, and three other Runners paint wide black stripes across our eyes and suit ourselves up in dark warfront uniforms and military caps. Then we head out of the Patriots’ underground hideout for the first time since I arrived. A couple of soldiers wander by now and then, but we see more clusters of troops as we head farther out of our neighborhood and cross the train tracks. The sky’s still completely covered with clouds, and under the dim streetlights, I can see thin sheets of sleet falling. The pavement’s slick with drizzle and icy slush, and the air smells stale, like a mix of smoke and mold. I pull my stiff collar higher, swallow one of Tess’s blue pills, and actually wish I was back with her in Los Angeles’s humid slums. I tap the dust bomb hidden inside my jacket, double-checking that it’s dry. In the back of my mind, the scene between June and the Elector plays on repeat.
