Forged

“I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of,” Garrett admits. “I cover for folks as often as I can, but sometimes there’s no alternative. If we want eyes on the most precious information, this is the way to do it. I have to be truly inside, and convincing.

 

“Bea started the Harbinger a few years back, before I even began this undercover stuff. She’s always been the one with initiative. Our dad worked for the Order in Haven, and she fought with him every damn day because she didn’t agree with his values. One day she took me and my brother and hopped a boat south without telling him. Dad’d probably call her a crazy conspiracy theorist if he saw what she was up to now. How she’s got me working inspections to pick up stories, Greg listening to radio scanners and hacking into any Order database he can manage. That or beat the living crap out of her. Moral codes aside, it’s probably good we ditched him. He wasn’t right in the head.”

 

Bea didn’t look much older than September when we were introduced. She’s probably been acting as a mother for more than half her life.

 

“Here.” Garrett flattens out one of the crumpled pieces of paper. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

 

My face fills the majority of the page. Alive and Well Despite Order Rumors, the headline reads.

 

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

 

I say nothing.

 

“The Order released some horrible photo of you the other day. Slumped against a wall. Stomach bleeding.”

 

Of course they did. My Forged counterpart may be dead, but the corpse could still serve a purpose.

 

“You don’t look like you took a bullet to the stomach,” Garrett adds.

 

“That’s because I didn’t.”

 

I could tell him about the Forgery, but it’s too much—too heavy, too complex, too personal. The image of Blaine, slack and lifeless on the Compound floor, flashes through my mind.

 

“It’s really good to meet you,” Garrett says. “I’ve been . . . Well, it makes me braver. Each day I have to go down to the docks and search boats, never knowing when I’m going to find something I might want to hide, not sure if I’m going to have to turn someone in. It’s easier to face that knowing you’re doing the same thing. That you’re my age. That you’re fighting it all despite the odds.”

 

“I’m not doing anything, Garrett. Your sister’s really good at spinning things to fit her needs.”

 

He glances at the wrinkled document.

 

“It’s not true, then? That you stole a vaccine from beneath Frank’s nose? That you outsmarted his troops in the Western Territory and then crossed the border despite his best man being on your tail?”

 

“It’s all true, but I didn’t do it alone. I had help, and when I didn’t, I had luck. I’m just a guy trying to get by. I’m nothing miraculous.”

 

“People need to believe in miracles.”

 

“But not lies.”

 

He crumples the paper in his fist. “You repeat any of that to Bea and I’ll punch your damn teeth in. People need this. She needs this. And so long as one person is still hopeful, nothing she prints is a lie.”

 

He pushes the balled article into my chest as he leaves.

 

 

Upstairs, it’s obvious September is treating her floor of the house as a temporary home. Bare walls. Mismatched chairs around a kitchen table. Little to no furniture beyond the mattresses in the bedrooms, and two sagging couches in the sitting area. Aiden’s camped out there now, playing a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors with Emma as Rusty dozes at his feet.

 

“Again!” Aiden bobs a fist up and down, waiting for her to join in another round. He greeted her like a puppy when we arrived, bounding to her, hugging her around the legs. And she let him. Before I could even make eye contact with her, shake my head in a small cringe as if to say, Don’t tell him the truth, she had already decided as much.

 

As I watch them sit on the couch together, her flattening her palm only to have Aiden snip it with his scissor fingers, I feel like I’m watching him play with her Forgery. Some pieces of Emma were in that thing. So many pieces. Especially her way with others, her temperament and caring nature, her desire to set everyone at ease. It’s both amazing and profoundly terrifying.

 

“All right already. You’ve lost the last five rounds. It’s my turn.” Sammy grabs Emma around the middle, hauling her backward on the couch. She laughs. Aiden grins. The game continues. It continues like it never ended. I get a rush in my chest as I realize that it never has to. That if things go right—if we figure out a way to fix everything—moments like this might never have a reason to end.

 

September steps up behind me. “Stubborn as a cockroach, huh?” For a minute, I think she’s talking about people, how they never give up, not even when every last odd seems stacked against them, but then she shakes a thumb at Harvey. He’s digging through his bag, Clipper at his side.

 

“I told him he should eat first, get something in his stomach, but he insisted on heading right to work.”

 

“You know Harvey. Setting goals and refusing to let up until they’re accomplished.”

 

“Passionate,” she says, bobbing her head.

 

“Plus a touch of crazy.”

 

September pulls her disheveled hair loose, smooths it back, and resecures it.

 

“Hey, thanks for everything earlier—the boat and inspection crew. What did you have to do to distract Garrett’s boss?”

 

“He thinks I have a thing for married men. And he’s, well, married.”

 

My eyes widen.

 

“No, geez, Gray. I kissed the guy, but I didn’t sleep with him. I’ve got my limits. I’m gonna have to wash my mouth out with soap later, though. I swear I can still taste the cigar he’d been smoking.” She waves a thumb at the kitchen. “You hungry? I could go for dinner.”

 

I feel like I’m always underestimating the women on our team.

 

 

Erin Bowman's books