A Time to Rise Page 2

  Zeke maintains my gaze. “I don’t understand it—this God thing of yours.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But . . . I want to.”

  “Then you know Who to seek.” I quirk a smile. “My ‘God thing’ started with a desperate prayer on a hospital floor, asking Him to do something with my life.” Now look at me.

  Zeke nods. I close my eyes and take deep, freeing breaths. It is astonishing where God’s taken me since then. When I open my eyes, Zeke’s head rests against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

  “Uh . . . Zeke?”

  I guess he fell asleep. I bite my knuckle, then spit because it’s covered in dirt. I crawl closer and give his shoulder a shake. No response other than a half-snore. Weird. Kind of creepy. Uh . . . God? This is my sign that it’s time to go.

  I don’t know if Zeke’ll end up reporting me or not. But I suspect that this moment will change his life forever. My death sowed doubt into the minds of the Council. Now my life sows doubt in the minds of the Council’s lackeys. Skelley was worried about what my death would mean. Now they know they’ve set up all of the United States of the East with faulty Clocks.

  The Council caused its own downfall.

  Here I am. A ghost. They think I’m dead, but I’m only just starting to live. I have a calling to fulfill. We broke down one part of the Wall, but now it’s time to take it all down. No more barriers across our land. No more captivity.

  That is my only goal. I will succeed because God pulled me out of a coffin to do it. Deep inside I know Zeke was right. The medibot is dead. I need not fear.

  And through her faith, though she died, she still speaks. Those were my last thoughts before I succumbed to the pirate chip’s toxin—my own version of Hebrews 11:4 and the verse of the week from the underground church in Prime.

  That means their meeting is on Wednesday at 11:40pm.

  Tonight.

  I search the Enforcers until I find a watch and a NAB. I steal both. I hope that’s okay. After a moment, I take the other Enforcer’s coat. Black is good cover at night.

  According to the watch, it’s 10pm. According to the NAB, I’m on the outskirts of Prime. Only an hour’s walk away from the underground church. I rest, torn. Should I go to Solomon or continue on my own?

  God?

  GO.

  A grin steals over my face. Solomon thinks I’m dead and, if he succeeded in escape, he’s sure to be at that meeting. At last, instead of taking things from him, I can give something back.

  I can give him me.

  I sit up and brush the dirt off my face. Then, with my pack on my shoulder and my confidence dancing in God’s hands, I arise.

  Resurrected.

  2

  I lurk in the dark corner of the underground church. I’m early. Fight and Idris arrived about an hour ago. My Brawn suit is in my pocket and I’m dressed in my white Council prison clothes, Mother’s skirt, and the black Enforcer coat.

  No one has seen me yet. I don’t reveal myself. I want my first eye contact to be with Solomon.

  But what if he doesn’t come?

  What if he goes straight to the orphanage to rescue Willow? That’s something he would do. He thinks I’m dead. But he would come here, too. This is his next family. He would at least bring Cap, Gabbie, Frenchie, Kaphtor, and Elm here for safety . . . unless he took them back to Unity Village.

  I clamp my hand over my eyes. These questions push me to doubt, and I will not doubt. Not tonight.

  The smell of earth on my clothes reminds me why doubt is a threat. The old Parvin Blackwater was the doubter. But I’m new. I’m strong. I’m God’s.

  He knows I want Solomon here with me, but if Solomon doesn’t come then I’ll be on my own. And that’s okay. That’s my sign that I’m to continue alone. Me and God. I like the sound of that. Uninterrupted devotion.

  “Crazy about the Wall, huh?” Fight—the young redhead dude who leads the underground church meetings—stares at an electrosheet. His voice echoes against the cement of the abandoned factory basement. “People are still going through. Even though Enforcers are fighting them, Radicals are escaping to the West. Crazy.”

  Idris, Fight’s fancy blond girlfriend, sits on the ground, her knees up high and her elbows resting on them. Her hair is twisted back from her face with metal skulls and butterflies holding it in place. She stares at the floor. “Yeah.” Her voice is soft. “Crazy.”

  “Do you think they’ll be here tonight?” Fight toys with his spiked red hair and adjusts the belt around his head that’s holding it up.

  She laughs once through her nose, only there’s no mirth in her expression. She looks up. “Really, Fight? You think they’ll be here? The Council was at the Wall when Parvin destroyed that big chunk. Solomon, Parvin, and the others are probably dead.”

  She shakes her head and returns her gaze to the ground. I feel cruel eavesdropping on them, not revealing my survival. As if I’m observing my own funeral.

  “But their plan worked, right? The video that Parvin made helped people cross over to safety. I bet people are still going over.”

  “I wish we’d gone,” she whispers. “We could still go.”

  He turns off the electrosheet and the glow leaves his face. “Come on, Idris. We’ve gone over this. We can’t desert the people here in Prime.”

  “They’re choosing to stay in bondage here! I want freedom, Fight. Parvin took that Wall down because she knew we wanted a free place to gather and study and worship and live. She probably died for that, and we didn’t even take the chance to cross over. That might have been our only chance.”

  She’s right—her comments about wanting a free place to worship did instigate my desire to tear down the Wall, but it was never just for her. It was for all people oppressed by the Council and the Clocks. And every day, that number grows.

  A few other people arrive, but not the same amount as when I attended with Solomon two months ago.

  “Nobody’s coming.” Fight voices my thoughts.

  “Because they’re gone. They crossed the Wall.” Idris launches to her feet. “Or they’re scared.” She embraces a young woman who descends the concrete steps. “We’re all scared. We saw that Dusten boy’s body in Parvin’s video. He was clearly dead and his Clock was still ticking. This changes so much.”

  Yes, it does. Smart girl.

  And that’s not all that’s going to change. The break in the stone Wall was a start. I’m going to tear it all down. I’m going to find the control system behind the projected Wall and destroy it.

  In breaking down the barriers, I will help build a new world.

  Idris toys with the metal Clock band on her wrist. So, she forked out a hundred specie for a new Clock. Her old, stylish Clock that used to project from one of her many belts is gone. Looks like the Council took away the glamorous High City Clocks. Now everyone’s the same.

  “I heard that someone else died in Prime before their Clock was up,” says the lady who just entered.

  “Someone outlived their Clock in Neos,” another chimes in. “They tried to get a new one, but it showed only zeroes, their name, and said OVERRIDDEN.”

  Idris crosses her arms tight over her stomach. “This isn’t good! The Enforcers destroyed my old Clock. The one on my wrist has the same Numbers but . . . what if they’re wrong?” She sounds on the verge of tears.

  “If Solomon comes tonight”—Fight wraps his arms around her—“we’ll ask him.”

  She hits his hands away. “He’s dead!”

  Just then a door slams from above. I freeze. Fight and Idris instantly slink into a shadow. People don’t slam doors if they’re coming here. The moment an Enforcer finds out about the secret church meeting, where we talk about topics forbidden by law, people will be punished.

  Stealth is of the essence.

  My heart pounds a warning—Skelley Chase! Elan Brickbat! Enforcers! —but in an odd, strong way, for which I can claim no credit—I’m not afraid. If anything, the pounding is instigated by the greater and more emotional nervousness of revealing myself to the man I love.

  A woman’s voice hisses something from the top of the concrete stairs. A male responds in like. I don’t recognize their voices, but then, whispers are hard to decipher.

  The first form to walk in is tall, with dark blond hair and multiple scars on the left side of his face from where the Enforcers carved off his tattoo. His bright teal eyes catch a flash of light—and in them I see hollowness.

  Solomon Hawke.

  My Solomon.

  Behind him are Gabbie, the black reporter who helped me make a video revealing the Council’s treachery, and Cap, the milkman from Unity Village. His saggy face is as grouchy as ever, probably because he hasn’t returned to his goats yet. Then comes Frenchie, half draped over tall Kaphtor’s shoulders. Where is Elm? Did he go after Willow on his own?

  All five of my friends look weary and weathered. Solomon most of all.

  I want to run to him, but Idris gets there first.

  She launches into a hug. “You’re alive!” She leans back and hugs the others. Gabbie receives the embrace with raised eyebrows and a relieved smile. Cap reels away, as if physical touch will kill him.

  Idris doesn’t try hugging Kaphtor or Frenchie—they look on the verge of collapse. My worries cease when Elm, my teenage albino friend with an eye patch, walks through the door last. Alert. Strong.

  “Where’s Parvin?” Idris leans around Solomon, peering at the door as though I’ll walk through after them. My throat constricts. This was a bad idea. I don’t want all these people here, watching as I step forward. I just want . . . Solomon.

  Idris looks at his face. His jaw works furiously, but it doesn’t stop the well of tears in his eyes. “Oh, Solomon.”

 
“She . . . she gave herself to the Council. So we could”—he chokes—“escape.”

  I can’t handle it. For some reason, I’m more terrified of revealing myself to him in this moment than I’ve ever been of anything else. I shouldn’t have done it this way. I shouldn’t have even come. When I look at Solomon, all I desire is escape. With him. To a calm life of rest.

  But that’s not today’s calling.

  My words come out in a dusty croak. “Solomon, I’m . . . I’m here.” I step out of the shadow.

  Solomon’s head snaps up. He searches the enormous space until his eyes land on me. My knees tremble and I’m sure I’ll fall. This moment—this prolonged stare where his mind could be swirling with any amount of questions—almost kills me.

  Then he’s running.

  I can’t move.

  He stumbles on the bottom two steps, but that doesn’t stop him. The space between the stairs and me closes faster than a snap of fingers.

  I’m in his arms. Crushed. Suffocating in the best possible way.

  My arms are tight around his neck, his around my waist, and I’m pretty sure we’re both crying. My feet don’t touch the ground.

  Someday, when I finally step into heaven, I imagine I will run into God’s arms like this. I can’t fathom what it will feel like, because in this moment, I can barely survive the onslaught of happiness and hope.

  Solomon mumbles something into my shoulder.

  “What?”

  He just shakes his head. There are no words. I can’t imagine how he must have felt, thinking I was dead. We were forced to bid each other good-bye. Forced to accept that we’d be together only through death.

  My ears tune back into the sounds around us. Clapping. Laughing. Even Cap is smiling—something I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fully do. Solomon sets me back down on my feet.

  I look up into his eyes and he takes my face in his hands, leaning his forehead against mine. “How?”

  I shake my head, at a loss. “God.”

  He laughs, then sniffs. “Of course.”

  Fight lets out a whoop, but Idris socks him in the stomach. “Keep it down!”

  “I love stuff like this,” he says in an exaggerated whisper. “God’s so cool.”

  That’s one way to put it. Idris turns to me, hands on hips. “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Sorry.” Now I feel like an eavesdropper. “I . . . had a lot on my mind.”

  Idris gives an impish grin. “Like I care. I’m just glad you’re alive. Sneaky.”

  I step back from Solomon and meet his gaze. As much as I want to relish this reunion . . . “There are things I need to do.”

  He nods once. “Willow.”

  And then the projected Wall. But it sounds too ominous to start our reunion with, “Yes, and we’re going to break down the Council’s entire system and free the world.”

  I step past Solomon and walk up to Elm. We don’t hug. We don’t greet each other at all, really, which is pretty normal for us. He’s taller than I am now, and only four years younger, yet I still see him as a boy, despite his claims of strength and manhood. “We’re getting her back, Elm. That’s the first thing we’ll do.”

  For a moment, I imagine he’s still as brick-wall confident as always, but a muscle twitches in his jaw and something in his hardened gaze falters.

  “What about your tracker?” Cap slides to the ground against a pillar. “You’re gonna bring the whole Council down upon us again!” Frenchie’s blond head snaps up and she looks at Kaphtor. They stop midway down the stairs, as if ready to turn around and flee.

  “It’s dead. It restarted my heart in the coffin as a last action.” A tiny pocket of emotion twinges when I think of the small metal spider I used to despise.

  “You were in a coffin?” Solomon slides his hand down my arm and then pinches a piece of the coat fabric as if just realizing I’m wearing an Enforcer coat. “That explains the dirt smell.”

  “I’ll get into details later.” I want to tell him about Enforcer Zeke, about my fresh confidence in God. There’s so much. But first, I address the small group of gathered Believers. “I’m stepping out.”

  The muttering and celebration stop and we refocus. Before telling them what I plan to do, I start with the story of what I’ve already done. I tell them how the Council sent all the Low City Radicals—even some non-Radicals—to Antarctica as slaves, to go through the Wall and perish. I tell them how Solomon and I destroyed the projected Wall temporarily to escape on the cargo ship. I tell them of our trek across the West from Lost Angel to Ivanhoe to the Wall.

  Much of this story was included in the video we sent out to the public before the destruction of the Wall, but not everything. Not the uglier details.

  I have no trouble speaking now. I’m not nervous. It’s like I view life differently. There’s no time to be hindered by nervousness. In the end, it doesn’t matter what others think of my story or my delivery of it. A wall has been broken down—not just the physical Wall, but a spiritual wall. A new anchor dropped into the sea of God’s confidence and strength.

  “The Council put a terminating pirate chip in my skull.” As if urged on by the memory, a spot at the base of my cranium twinges. I rub my hand over the puncture wound.

  “Wait . . . and you remember things?” Solomon steps closer. “You remember everything?”

  How can I know if I remember everything? “I . . . I think so.” Zeke asked me the same thing, yet the only time I was confused and lost was when I first woke.

  “How’d you survive?” Fight asks.

  I look at Solomon as if he’ll have the answer, but he raises an eyebrow. I look back at Fight. “I can only guess that God used the medibot to keep me in and out of death, like a bobber, until it finally restarted my heart inside the coffin. It combated the toxins.”

  I picture the medibot as a mini army, fighting the toxin warriors to its last breath. Then, finally, sacrificing itself for me. How ironic that the man who has tried to kill me countless times is the one who put the medibot in me.

  “Skelley Chase didn’t know what he was doing when he put that in your body.” Solomon takes my hand away from my neck and holds it tight.

  His words aren’t right. Skelley always knows what he’s doing. That’s what makes him so intimidating. Did he think of the medibot when Elan Brickbat used the pirate chip on me?

  He couldn’t have. I saw a tear on his cheek—a tear on the skin of the devil’s servant. It didn’t fit. It made him human. His sorrow tells me he thought I’d die.

  “So what’s your step out?” Idris asks.

  “First”—I squeeze Solomon’s hand, inwardly praying he will join me on my list of missions—“I’m going to save Willow from the orphanage.” My tug to destroy the projected Wall is stronger, but I promised Elm. I promised Willow. I will not abandon her.

  “They still have her?” Idris asks, aghast.

  My thoughts exactly.

  Elm growls low in his throat. “Not for long.” He’ll find his sweet grafting partner. And I’ll help where I can.

  “It’s perfect timing. Elan Brickbat and the other Council members think I’m dead, and they’re distracted by the hole in the Wall.” Then, in order to get them back home . . . “I’m going to destroy the rest of the Wall. For good.”

  Fight rolls his eyes and plays with the Clock band on his wrist. “Didn’t you just do that? I mean, you totally broke down a chunk like a female Samson. Besides . . . that’s a lot of stone.”

  “The gap we created is already guarded by Enforcers. The Council is probably sending more to secure it.” I really need to read my Daily Hemisphere electrosheet.

  I step into the midst of them. The closeness makes me feel like my words will hit home harder. “I’m not going after the stone Wall this time. If I can permanently destroy the projection, something Solomon’s great-grandfather invented”—I point to Solomon—“then the Wall will be open. The projection covers all sections of water. Once it’s down, people can cross anywhere on the ocean.”

  I meet Idris’s eyes. “You can finally go somewhere to study and worship God without hiding. There are no bans on Scripture topics in the West. There are no laws against teaching children under eighteen about God. There’s no punishment for meeting to pray.”

  And there is an albino village that wants a spiritual teacher. Idris might be the perfect match to help Ash and Black understand the Bible.