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When I first woke up on Godspeed, I went running and found myself in the City—but it was a different City from this. The people had hollow eyes and seemed robotic; they were frightening because they were so empty inside. Now their emotions are boiling over, and the fear and anger and distrust all writhe together inside them, spilling out in narrowed gazes and snarling lips and clenched fists.
“Get out of here, Amy,” Elder mutters, casting a worried glance at me. I reach up and he grabs my hands, giving them a gentle squeeze before releasing me. “Go back to the Hospital. Go to where it’s safe. ”
But I want to stay here. I want to show Elder that I’m not another mistake that Bartie can use against him. I want stand behind him and prove my loyalty.
That is, until someone in the crowd moves forward.
Luthor.
Just an anonymous face in an angry crowd. Bartie shouts something else, and Elder snaps back, and everyone’s attention shifts to their argument.
Except Luthor’s.
His eyes are locked on mine. His lips curve in a smile that twists at the corners, reminding me of the Grinch who stole Christmas.
He mouths something, and although I can’t tell what he’s soundlessly saying to me, I can guess the words. I can do anything I want.
I run—I race—I flee.
25
ELDER
I’M GLAD AMY LEFT—I DON’T WANT HER INVOLVED IN THIS argument. I hate how quickly Bartie drew her into it.
And I hate how quickly the crowd has grown.
I touch the wi-com on the side of my neck. “Marae, get down here. Bring your police force. ”
She starts to respond, but I cut off the com link. I need to focus on Bartie.
“Oh, calling for backup?” Bartie sneers.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “I thought you were my friend. ”
“This isn’t about friendship. ” His voice isn’t raised now; these are words for just me, even though the entire crowd is listening. “This is about having a chance to turn this ship into the kind of world we want to live in. ”
“And there’s no place for me, huh?”
“There’s no place for an Eldest. Even an Eldest who calls himself Elder. ”
From the corner of my eye, I can see blurs of dark blue and black zipping through the grav tube at the City. Marae will be here soon, along with about a half-dozen Shippers.
Stevy groans and struggles to his feet.
“Okay,” I say. “It’s all over. Let’s just get back to work. ”
Some of the people in the crowd start to break away. The tension is already diffusing.
“Everyone break it up!” Marae roars, rushing forward.
And there’s the tension back again.
“Ah, here comes Elder’s latest idea—the police force,” Bartie sneers, his voice raised again. “Here to make sure we work like good little boys and girls or else. ”
“It’s not like that,” I say—to both him and Marae.
“Can’t anybody see what’s going on?” A new voice cuts through the mass of people surrounding us. It’s Luthor. Of course it is. He always has been one to revel in a fight, even years ago, when we were living in the Ward. Only now he doesn’t bother to hide it. “He’s scared. Our Elder is scared. He’s scared of you! You! You have the power. He can’t control all of us!”
