SEVENTEEN
MR. TUCCI APPEARS MID-AFTERNOON WITH TWO uniformed campus security officers. I’m slammed with the same sick feeling I got the last time he showed up, but this time there is no Pollock. That makes me breathe a bit easier.
Gil leans sideways in his desk and hisses, “What did you do?”
I’m not sure who he’s whispering to—Sean or me. My pulse jackknifes against my throat as I strain to listen to whatever Tucci whispers at the front of the Cage. It feels like forever before he enters and addresses the group. Everyone swings around in their seats.
“All right, everyone. Listen up. We have a bit of a situation.” He waves his hands in the air like he’s mollifying an unruly mob. “We’re dismissing you all early today. Gather up your things. Security is here to escort you to the doors.”
Nathan and Brian whoop loudly.
Tucci sends them a stern look and waits a moment before continuing. “You’ll all learn soon enough. There’s been an incident.” He clears his throat. “A terrible tragedy.”
“What happened?” This from Gil.
Tension tightens across my shoulders as we all wait for Tucci to answer. He looks to the side, blinking rapidly with obvious emotion, and I know it’s going to be bad. When he does finally speak it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room.
“A mass shooting. At a mall and stadium in Houston.”
A hush falls over the room. No one says anything, but we all look at one another. And I know we’re all thinking the same thing, wondering why we have to leave school early. Escorted by security guards.
Tucci sighs. “The body count is high. Over fifty so far. They have multiple suspects in custody. They’re carriers. All of them. It’s been confirmed. It’s all over the news.”
And it all clicks together. The bottom drops out of my world. This is bad. Very bad. For all of us.
Tucci continues, “We need to hurry. It’s twenty minutes until the next bell.” And, presumably, news of the catastrophe has infiltrated the student population. There’s no way news this big isn’t on everyone’s radar.
For a long moment, no one moves as this sinks in, and then there’s a sudden flurry of activity. I fly into action, grabbing my backpack.
“Do we have to show up to school tomorrow?” Nathan asks as we file out from the Cage.
Tucci looks over his shoulder as he strolls ahead of us down the hallway. “No promises. I need to consult with the Agency. I’m unsure what protocol is in place. Your caseworkers will be in touch with each of you.”
No school tomorrow? What about next week? Will we still graduate? Does that even matter anymore?
Nathan leads the pack, his strides hurried, eager to exit campus. Sean walks ahead of me. I watch his back, studying the play of his shoulder blades beneath the cotton of his T-shirt . . . wondering if he’s as knotted up with tension as I am. Has this affected him? Does anything?
Tucci leads the way with one security guard at the back of our little group and another flanking us. The guard keeps pace to my left. Several times he sends sidelong glances at me, eyeing my neck, one of his hands drifting to the baton attached to his belt. He’s probably worried that I’ll go berserk like one of the carriers who just massacred innocent people in Houston.
“Pick up the pace,” Coco mutters, passing me. The rear guard moves up, stepping beside me on my right. Unlike his colleague, he doesn’t seem that interested in me or my ink.
We’re almost to the front of the building. The front office looms ahead. The afternoon sun winks off the glass of the main double doors.
Suddenly, pain bursts in the back of my skull and I’m falling. My hands barely have time to rise up and break my descent.
“Carrier scum!”
There’s a commotion. Voices. Loud grunts. A flurry of feet pounding around me, stomping down on one of my braids. I cry out, unsure what’s going on. I curl my hands around the back of my head, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“Davy! C’mon! Can you stand?” Gil’s face comes into focus. He tugs on my arm.
I nod and he helps me to my feet. I look around, taking in the mad scene. Fear lances through me as I spot Sean wrestling with a boy on the floor as the security guards try to wedge them apart, using their batons. He’s already been imprinted. What will they do to him for this?
Nathan and Brian dance around the writhing bodies, shouting encouragement, landing kicks when they can to the boy attacking Sean.
Tucci’s voice lifts over the din, directing the rest of us down the hall. “Outside! The rest of you! Now!” Soles squeal on the tile. Coco’s the first to escape through the doors. Nathan and Brian tear themselves away much more reluctantly.
Gil pulls me along. I only manage a few feet, watching, mesmerized as Sean climbs atop the boy and unleashes his fists in a powerful fury. It’s him, I realize . . . the savage he’s purported to be. The wild animal the mark on his neck proclaims.
I lightly rub at the back of my head where a knot is already forming. The boy hit me either with his fist or some object.
Even after everything, even after I’d been bound and branded like an animal, the idea that I would be attacked still astounds me.
One of the security guards locks his baton around Sean’s neck and drags him off the boy. Sean’s face purples as he struggles for breath.
I lunge forward, ready to help him, but Gil’s hand tightens on my arm. “You want to get in more trouble?”
“We have to help him!” I pant. “They’re killing him!”
“No, they’re not! Don’t worry! Sean can handle himself.”
As Gil pulls me through the front doors, I watch the guards drag Sean down the hall like he’s the one who did something wrong.
Outside, it’s like stepping into a hothouse. The morning’s rain had passed and the air immediately sticks to my skin.
Tucci motions us away from the front door to where he stands near the flagpole. He drags both hands through his hair, clearly rattled. “Look. You all need to leave before the bell rings and the students see you. Or we’ll have more of that.” He points to the building where we left Sean. My stomach twists. “Given the present climate . . .” He shakes his head as if the possibilities were unspeakable.
“I don’t need to be told twice.” Nathan and Brian head into the parking lot, a bounce to their strides, and I’m convinced they see this as nothing more than a holiday and not the end of something. An end to carrier tolerance and the beginning of something else. A new era . . . where carriers are more than simply reviled. Where we’re less than animals. Where we’re more than identified. More than monitored.
Coco follows them, her pace swift, humming with urgency. There’s none of Nathan’s or Brian’s levity to her. She understands what it takes to survive. And to a certain degree, I admire her for that. She’ll always land on her feet.
I linger with Gil, looking toward the front door, reluctant to leave Sean still in there—especially after he got himself into trouble for helping me. I didn’t expect that. He’s helped me before but never at risk to himself.
“Go on, get out of here.” Tucci waves at us before turning back and disappearing inside the school. The final bell rings inside the building, the echo discordant, vibrating on the air. Still, I stand there, my feet rooted to the sidewalk, staring at the doors, willing Sean to appear.
“Davy, we gotta go. They’re going to pour out of those doors and we can’t be here when they do.”
“What about—”
“He’s with campus security. We’re not. He’s safer than we are standing out here. Let’s go.”
I nod jerkily and move, my head still ringing from the earlier blow. I cup the back of my neck as if that will help. Gil walks close to my side, one hand wavering between us as if he’s prepared to support me if I should trip or fall.
“You mind if I get a ride again? My apartment’s not far. I usually walk, but today . . .” His voice fades, but I can hear his apprehension, see it in the way his eyes scan the parking lot, pausing on the doors in the distance where the first students start to exit. I’m reminded that he’s been a student here before he was ever declared a carrier. These were once his fellow classmates and they know him on sight. He doesn’t need an imprint on his neck to identify him. Walking home, any student driving past will know who he is . . . what he is.
And as Tucci pointed out, with the current events, anything could happen to him.
“Sure,” I respond, punching the UNLOCK button. He dives into the passenger seat.
The parking lot is already crowded by the time I back out, cars in the front impeding our exit from campus. As I inch behind vehicles, I glance to the doors and migration of students, scanning for one taller than the most. An ink collar on his neck. But he never appears.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers ..................................................................
* * *
(FBI interrogation)
AGENT OALLEN: Why did you do it?
KEVIN HOYT: What are you talking about?
AGENT OALLEN: C’mon, man. We’ve confiscated your computer. Your phone. I’ve talked to the other three. They didn’t pull off the largest mass shooting in this country’s history on their own. We know you’re the brains behind this.
KEVIN HOYT: That’s kind of you to say.
AGENT OALLEN: So. Why?
KEVIN HOYT: Why not?
AGENT OALLEN: You don’t even care? You feel no remorse? One hundred and twenty dead. Over fifty injured . . .
KEVIN HOYT: Pretty good. We were aiming for two hundred but, like you said. Over fifty injured. We might get there yet.
AGENT OALLEN: You’re a monster.
KEVIN HOYT: That’s what everyone keeps saying. . . . It’s good to know they were right. Isn’t it?