He holds up his finger to silence me. “It’s a temporary problem and easily remedied. By the time the final bell rings, Lyric, I will be the focus of all the fear and hatred at this school. It will take all the attention off you. But to make that happen, we need to work together.”
“We? We’re not a team!”
“Governor Bachman is here. She has a court order that gives her the right to walk through my halls, visit my classrooms, and interview my students. It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment. It’s especially unfortunate because I have big plans for today, plans that will fix both of our problems, but to ensure their success I need you to keep her busy while I get things going. And in return I will give you a reward,” he says, then hands me an envelope from his pocket.
I look down at it, unsure of what it means. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
It’s not sealed, so I reach in and find several slips of paper. One is a birth certificate with my mother’s name on it. It has a date of birth that makes sense for her age, fake names for her mother and father, and even a place of birth at a hospital in Buffalo. It looks real right down to the aged paper and the raised seal of the State of New York. There’s a fake driver’s license inside too. It has my mother’s photo on it, our address, and her exact weight.
“Look again and you’ll find a Social Security card as well. She’ll need all three when you decide to go.”
He knows. HE KNOWS.
My body takes over even before my mind has time to tell it to run. I’m on my feet in a flash with my hand on the doorknob, but Doyle wheels his chair to block my escape.
“Lyric, if you keep doing as I have asked, you can have the envelope. It’s really quite simple, and the reward is life changing,” he says, steady and slow, allowing me time to process what he means.
“You aren’t going to turn us in?”
“I was sent here to do a job, Lyric. Hunting down Alpha and their families is not that job.”
He takes the envelope and its contents away from me. “Does that seem like a fair trade?”
“Who are you?” I ask.
He shakes his head. Not today. “I’ve got to get started,” he says. “The governor will be here soon. Keep her busy and try not to look so shell-shocked.”
But I am shell-shocked. A moment later he leaves me in his spy room, alone. I watch him hurry from one screen to another, mobilizing soldiers, rushing down hallways with a radio, and checking emergency exits. When he’s satisfied, his voice comes across the schoolwide PA system. He welcomes Governor Bachman to the building and urges everyone to cooperate with her. Then he calls all the teachers and staff into the lounge for an emergency meeting. I watch them drift toward the lounge and then watch as Doyle locks them all inside. He posts armed guards to make sure no one gets out. What is he up to?
“Hello, Ms. Walker,” a voice says. I jump with a start. Governor Bachman is standing in the doorway. I was so busy with my own questions, I didn’t hear her enter. “I’m Governor Pauline Bachman.”
She offers her thin hand to me. It’s cold and slippery, and I want to pull away, but my father’s voice fills my head, reminding me to show authority figures respect, especially ones who make careers out of being nasty. Then there’s Doyle’s voice telling me to do my best or I’m staying in the Zone forever.
“Um” is all I can muster.
“I’m so glad to meet you, honey,” Bachman says as she peers into the monitors, confused at first, but then she realizes what they are and she smiles. “Very interesting. How are you? Are you having a good day? That’s great. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. You and I are going to be great friends.”
Her words, her smile, her face: they’re all saccharine, meant to earn my trust. She’s cooing to me like I’m a toddler on the first day of preschool.
“First of all, I want you to know that whatever we talk about here will be held in the strictest of confidence,” she continues.
“Oh, good.”
She reaches into her suit jacket and removes a digital recorder and pushes the button. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
My mind is a blank. Doyle should have prepared me. What would I want to talk about with her?
She gives me a pouty frown. “I heard what has happened, Lyric, and I want you to know I don’t like it. Mr. Doyle should not have forced that . . . that thing on you. You must be terrified having to meet with him all by yourself. I heard there are guards, but the Alpha are unpredictable, aren’t they? I want to help you, Lyric, if I can. There are powerful people waging a war against the good people of this state, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight back. Right?”
I nod, a little too long and a little too enthusiastically.