Authors: Rebecca Rode
A strange weight toppled out onto the sheet. Curious, I dropped the uniform and felt around. My fingers closed on a cold, round object. My stone. The silver thread was gone, but I’d know it anywhere. Part purple, part gold. Tiny specks from within reflected against the light. Purple for NORA, but gold for something else.
Someone
else.
Suddenly I knew exactly who had placed it here and why.
I dressed quickly. The door wasn’t an option. I put the stone in my pocket and lifted the window open slowly. Warm outside air brushed my hair aside, and the window made a tiny squeak. I watched the door, but the guard didn’t rush in. Taking a deep breath, I put my head out the window and looked downward. My room was seven or eight stories up, and the evening shadows now darkened the empty street below. To my right, only two meters away, was a fire escape. I wanted to laugh with relief.
Placing one leg over the windowsill, I eased myself out and sat on the edge. The city spread out before me like a blanket of buildings, all painted a soft orange by the afternoon sunlight. It was nearly the same sight I’d seen at the top of the tower all those years ago. Fortunately, I was a very different person now.
There was only one place to go now. It would be a difficult and dangerous journey, but it was where I belonged.
“I’m coming, Vance,” I said, and took a leap toward the brightness of the sun.
I
met my captors just past the wall.
Supposedly my mom and sisters were waiting at the largest of the potential settlement locations, a hidden meadow near Millennium Peak, with a creek and dark, rich soil for crops. It meant food and water, but if they thought they were safe there, they’d be disappointed. I knew better than anyone how easily NORA could find us if they ever decided to. And I wasn’t entirely convinced they wouldn’t. Either way, it was time to fulfill the second part of my bargain.
Anton had weaseled his way into the role of enforcer again. It was as if the missile attack had never happened. He sat casually on a rock, surrounded by ten thugs. They had thick facial hair, most caked with years’ worth of dirt and grime. The men stood as I approached, their backs loaded heavily with travel gear. A couple of them shot murderous looks in my direction.
“You actually came,” Anton said.
I shrugged. “Where would I go?”
“Back to your girlfriend. Or did you dump her because she lost the throne? Well, you’re here, so put your arms up.”
I resisted the urge to punch him in the nose and raised my hands. Four of the men aimed their stunners at my chest.
Anton stepped forward and cuffed my hands in front of me. Since I had no techband, these were simple chain cuffs, thin but sufficiently sturdy. It wouldn’t take long to get out of them. If necessary.
“His rights,” one of the men muttered. “Ain’t we supposed to arrest him proper-like?”
Another man spat, leaving a trickle of wetness on his gray beard. “Nah, he knows plenty about that. He’s arrested hundreds of innocent people, my wife and son among them.”
“Vance Hawking has no rights,” Anton announced, his voice cold. “He’s a traitor and a spy, and he can’t be trusted, no matter what he pretends. He’ll answer for his crimes as soon as we get back.” He yanked on my bonds, making me stumble. I’d been wrong about the cuffs. They didn’t use an electric punishment, but they’d been sharpened on the inside so that the metal bit into my wrists whenever I pulled against them. I took a reluctant step forward, and Anton grinned. “See? Good little pup. Maybe we’ll make something decent out of you yet.”
The group turned to leave, and I allowed myself one last look at the border wall, the sunlight reflecting almost painfully off its metal surface. A few concrete and steel buildings peered over it, and the sound of bicycle traffic hummed from the other side. If it weren’t for Anton’s group, I would have enjoyed the solitude of nine days’ travel before seeing another person. It seemed my last days of freedom had been taken from me, along with everything else that mattered.
I pushed away the thought that followed. Treena had her boyfriend, her Rating, and everything she’d ever wanted. My family was safe, my clan was gathering again, and they’d choose a new leader to protect them and decide my fate. Soon everything would be as it should.
“Your girlfriend was a pretty one,” Anton said. “If she wasn’t already taken, I might take a crack at her myself.” He yanked sharply on the chain. The metal bit into my wrists and I stumbled to my knees, ignoring the cold laughter of my escorts. With a growl, I jumped quickly to my feet and straightened to face Anton. His eyes widened slightly. After a moment he swallowed hard and looked away, keeping the chain slack this time. “All right, then. Time to go.”
The men shuffled away, giving me plenty of space to walk in the center. I had nine days of travel to plan my defense, to explain why I’d sacrificed their families for my own. Nine days of Anton’s comments and traveling and forcing Treena out of my head for good. Nine days of climbing ever higher, watching the trees close in and wondering whether I faced mercy or justice. I would kneel for now.
But whatever my fate, they would not see me kneel long.
I was a Hawking.
Call me strange, but I always enjoy reading the Acknowledgments section of books. It’s amazing many people are involved in the birth of a good story. Now that I’m on the other side of the page, I’d be ungrateful not to shine the spotlight on the amazing friends, family, and professionals who helped
Numbers Game
see the light.
I had many victims—er, volunteers—who stepped forward to beta read over the three years (and six drafts) it took to get this book finished. I’d like to thank Ashlei King, Geneen Jacobson, Sally Johnson, Melanie Auman, Randy Roberts (of YouTube fame), Kristina Roberts, the ever-encouraging Brad and Gayle Myler, and Scott and Lisa McDougle, who refused to let me set it away for long.
It’s an honor to be a member of two critique groups, and it’s an even greater honor that they tolerated my pleas for readings (sometimes multiple times) and yet still like me. At least, they haven’t kicked me out yet. These wonderful professionals and friends include Adrienne Monson, Karyn Patterson, Ruth Craddock, Mary King, Karen Pellett, Rachelle Monson, Jen Greyson, Kara Bosshardt, and the talented Roxy Haynie, whose beautiful writing style I will always covet. I’d also like to thank the lovely Cindy Hogan, whose expert advice will always be cherished, as well as Cindy Anderson, Shelly Seele, and Susan Tietjen. Special thanks to Angela Woiwode, who gave me no less than fifteen manuscript pages of advice at one point. (It took a year and several tissue boxes, but I finally finished her revisions and it was a much stronger story. Thanks, Angela!)
I’m also grateful for my fabulous cover designer, Clarissa Yeo of Yocla Designs, and for the chapter graphics by my talented cousin, Corey Egbert. A big thank-you to Cindy C. Bennett for her beautiful formatting and her patience with my tricky ideas and timeline, as well as to Eschler Editing. Heidi Brockbank and Sabine Berlin tore the story apart and showed me how to put it back together, and I’m so glad they did. Thanks to Rachel Layton for her fabulous author photo (again). And finally, thanks to my Facebook pals, iWriteNetwork, Author’s Think Tank, and Master Koda for being my sounding board on cover designs, formatters and a dozen other things. We live in an amazing age where help is just seconds away, and at the very least, it’s good to know I’m not alone.
And finally, a giant hug to my family members for their unwavering support and love, and especially to my husband and children, who took Mac n’ Cheese, hundreds of “Just a minute” replies, and endless hours of post-dinner Netflix in stride. You are everything to me.
REBECCA RODE is an award-winning author, journalist, and mother of four. She is the author of the inspirational book,
How to Have Peace When You’re Falling to Pieces,
and writes for Deseret News, KSL.com, FamilyShare, and Provo Daily Herald. However, her true love is writing for teenagers. She enjoys traveling, reading, and martial arts, and she has a ridiculous addiction to chocolate-banana shakes. Learn more at
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