“Do you know what BABL stands for?” I ask no one in particular.
“Never met anyone who does,” Tomsen says. “I’ve always guessed Buried American Broadcast Lock.”
Nora thinks for a moment. “Big Apple . . . Barrier Language?”
“Butt And Breast Lover,” M offers.
I release a slow breath, tensing for my polysyllabic confession. “It’s Bicoastal Agitation Blocking Lattice.”
All eyes fall on me.
“There are two generators. One on each coast. Airwaves won’t clear until they’re both gone.”
“Where?” Tomsen nearly shrieks, tensing like she’s about to pounce on me. “Where’s the other one?”
“Somewhere in Citi Stadium. It’s part of the LOTUS broadcast station. And Axiom is sitting on it.”
I feel their eyes trying to peel my layers and expose my secrets, but I’m not hiding them anymore. My new life is young. My past is most of me. If I cut it out, I’m a thin and hollow skin.
“They planned it all years ago, before the hiatus, before the quake.” I let it pour out of me in a stumbling rush, leaning on my knees with my head in my hands. “They died, but they came back, and they won’t stop.” I peek through my fingers at the drowned city, trying not to see how my friends are looking at me. “They already have the Feed. Soon they’ll have the Dead. Then the Living. Then everything.”
The breeze ruffles my hair. A few rays of orange light pierce through the tattered clouds as the sun goes down, its daily routine undisturbed by the chaos here on Earth.
“What are you talking about?” Abram says in a low voice. “How do you know all this?”
I don’t answer Abram. I answer Julie. I look into her face and tell her: “I remember who I was.”
Her eyes are vast and terrifying, like icy meteors hurtling toward Earth, but I resist the urge to look away. This time, I won’t run. I will let her pierce me and dig around inside me, and whatever she finds there, she can have.
But the trial doesn’t come. Not yet, at least. Instead of demanding answers and interrogating me on my sins, she turns to the horizon and says, “We have to stay.”
I realize I haven’t been breathing. I inhale gratefully.
“Stay?” Nora says. “What do you mean?”
“We keep arguing about whether to hide or escape. When did those become our only options? Two different ways to give up?”
Nora frowns. “Um, Julie . . . you’ve been pretty insistent on that second option.”
“I know.” She shakes her head. “I was so scared. Told myself we were going to find help and bring it home, but everything was so fucked . . .” I notice a glint of moisture in her eye. “. . . and then Mom showed up, and I just . . . broke.” She looks at Abram through the welling of tears. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Abram says nothing. His face is stony.
“But you were right, R.” She looks at my feet for a moment before raising her eyes to mine. “I can’t save her.” She turns to Nora. “And you were right. She wouldn’t want me to try if it means giving up everything else.” She wipes her eyes on her arm and clenches her jaw. “We can’t hide and we can’t escape. We have to stay and fight.”
For a minute or two, the only sound is the squeal of Tomsen’s radio as she absently roams the stations. I would expect Abram to have a lot to say about this, but he just looks from Julie to me with that strange blankness.
“Fight Axiom?” M says, pinching his forehead like he’s getting a headache. “How?”
Tomsen has landed back on Fed FM, and Julie jabs a thumb at the radio with a disgusted grimace. “I say we start with that.”
“The Axiom Group provides certainty in uncertain times,” says an earnest female voice while the soundtrack swells. “How can you rely on your fellow man when he’s just as desperate as you? Only Axiom stands above the crowd. Only Axiom is prosperous enough to be trusted.”
“It’s not like they have an unstoppable army,” Julie says. “They’re not taking the country by force. People are giving it to them because they think it’s the best way. Because all they know is what Axiom tells them.”
“In our thriving modern cities you’ll find food, shelter, and work for the whole family. You’ll sleep peacefully surrounded by thick walls and trained soldiers while helicopters float above your head like guardian angels.”
“I’m so sick of listening to this,” Julie growls. “Old Gov or Axiom, it’s always the same voice. One loud asshole shouting over everyone.”
“Rapists,” a man intones as the music turns dark. “Serial killers. Pedophiles. Terrorists. Inhuman monsters who want to eat your family . . .”
“It’s time for him to shut the fuck up.” She grabs the radio and flicks the off switch. Tomsen doesn’t seem to mind.
I heave myself up from the bench. With my spine straight, I am almost as tall as M. I fill my lungs with the rain-scrubbed air, and I release an imperative sentence:
“Let’s destroy BABL.”
A wide grin is spreading across Tomsen’s face. Nora’s lips are pursed, her jaw stiff, but she begins to nod.