Written in Fire

CHAPTER 12

The lobby was broad and tall, with big metal ventilation tubes that flexed and hummed as air whistled through. Three feet above was the concrete ceiling, the wiring for the rooftop solar panels bursting through in colorful bundles that reminded him of the ribbon his mom used to wrap around Christmas presents, the edge of her scissors ripping them into tight curls. Between the ventilation system and the roof were open struts, and it was from there that Hawk kept watch, perched out of sight in the crook of a metal elbow. He’d always liked to climb, and he’d been delighted to discover that if he planted his feet on the wall, he could scurry up a pipe, then swing his legs over and do a sit-up into the struts. Hawk would spend hours here, mostly in the lobby, but sometimes creeping across to other rooms in the building, following people as they moved below.

The others made fun of his habit, but mostly not in a mean sort of way. Once Tabitha had even said, “Leave him alone. Aaron is keeping a vigil.” She was nineteen, and went on missions, and when she’d said it she’d smiled at him in a way that he liked to pretend meant things he knew it didn’t.

You’ll go on missions too, Aaron Hakowski thought to himself. Maybe you and Tabitha together.

He’d wanted to tell her to call him Hawk, but he’d been afraid she’d laugh. Still, there was the comfort of her word, vigil. Like he was a knight. A holy warrior. The Hawk, keeping his vigil with silent dedication. After all, they were behind enemy lines. Or, maybe not really enemy, because the Holdfast was for gifted, but still, Erik Epstein’s security forces could discover them at any moment, everybody said so. Aaron didn’t exactly want that to happen, but if it did, and he was on watch, maybe he could warn the others. Or even help. Drop down behind the intruders and steal one of their guns.

Idiot. They’d be brilliants. What would a fourteen-year-old normal be able to do against them?

Still. They wouldn’t be expecting it. And if he took down the one inside the door, he could sneak up on the others. He was a good shot, had practiced until his trigger finger bled. If he had a rifle and was behind the soldiers, they would be dressed in black and have helmets that made them look like insects, and they’d be pointing their guns at Tabitha, who for some reason was wearing a torn white teddy—

Fast footsteps snapped him to attention. Two scientists were hurrying down the hall, carrying a gurney between them. As Hawk watched, a fist of cold wind punched open the front door. Haruto Yamato, who they all called sensei when he taught hand-to-hand classes, staggered in along with Ms. Herr, who scared Aaron. Between them they slung an old guy to the gurney and dumped him. Next through the door was a big man who moved gingerly, like something hurt pretty bad.

John was last, but like always, it seemed like he was first. Aaron had put a lot of thought into why that was, and he suspected it had something to do with the way everyone looked at him. Like they were all compasses and he was the North Pole. John spoke to the scientists, who quickly strapped down the old man’s wrists and ankles.

“Charly, Haruto, handle security. You’ve seen what Couzen is capable of. I don’t want any surprises. Paul, go with them, get that wound looked at.”

“No, I’ll stay with—”

“Paul.” John put a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I’m going to need you.”

Aaron felt a stab of jealousy, imagined John doing that to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking in his eyes and saying, “I’m going to need you, Hawk.”

Don’t be dumb.

The old guy on the gurney was directly beneath him, and Aaron took a careful look, mindful of what Mom had always said, how most people wandered through life with their eyes closed. That led to a flash of memory, in a car, golden sun, a couple of years ago, coming back from McDonald’s, both of them munching fries from an open bag while she quizzed him, asked him what the nametag of the cashier had read, how much the order was for, the colors of the cars that had been parked next to theirs when they’d left, and the way she had glanced over with a grin when he’d known all the answers, that smile where she showed her teeth, not the polite one she did in pictures but the real one when he made her laugh—

Stop.

The old man was thin, with a big nose and a bald head. He was unconscious, but still looked angry. There were vicious scratches all over his face, which was weird, because Aaron couldn’t imagine Sensei Haruto scratching like a little girl, and Ms. Herr definitely wouldn’t have, not even when she’d been a little girl, if she ever had, and so Aaron looked closer, and that’s when he noticed the stains under the old guy’s fingernails.

“One, two, three,” said one of the scientists, and on three he and the other guy stood up, raising the gurney with them. Sensei and Ms. Herr and the muscular guy followed. They were headed toward the lab, and he thought about following. But John wasn’t going; he stood by the wall until they were out of sight, and then he sagged, like a lot of weight had landed on his shoulders. He sat down on a bench, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

Without looking up, he said, “Heya, Hawk.”

Aaron felt a flush of something he couldn’t quite name, similar to but different from the feeling he’d gotten when Tabitha smiled at him. He thought about working his way back to the electrical pipe, but instead he grabbed the bottom of the strut and lowered himself to dangle. He regretted the move immediately, the floor seeming somehow to get farther away instead of closer, but the only option was to wriggle and kick his way back up, and no way was he doing that in front of John, so he just took a breath and made his fingers open before he could think too much. The fall was about ten feet, and landing hurt, but he was proud that he didn’t show it. “Hi, Mr. Smith.”

“John.”

That flush again. “Hi, John. Who was that?”

“A scientist named Abraham Couzen.”

“A brilliant?”

“No. Just a genius.”

“He’s going to help us?”

“You could say.”

Aaron thought about that. “So he’s not one of us, but he knows something.”

The smile that crossed John’s lips was brief but pleased. “That’s right. He developed something very important. Maybe the most important thing in the last couple of thousand years.”

“Wow.” Aaron paused. “Will he tell us?”

“He doesn’t need to. I already have it.”

“Then why do we need him?”

“Partly so he can’t tell anyone else. And partly because I want to see what happens to him.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“He’s going to die.”

“Oh.”

John looked up then. He was different from most grown-ups, who only really looked at the kids when they were mad. That was one of the things Aaron loved about him, that John saw him, looked at him and talked to him like he mattered, not like he was just another kid, another war orphan whose mom had—

Stop.

“You okay?”

Aaron shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Why is he going to die?”

“He’s too old.”

“He didn’t look that old.”

John seemed to be about to say something, then didn’t. Instead he patted the bench beside him. Aaron sat down.

“You know, your mom was very proud of you.”

I know, was what he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth he realized he couldn’t trust himself, and so he didn’t say anything, just looked at his boots. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you little pussy, don’t you cry.

There was the sound of a lighter, and then the sharp smell of smoke. John said, “Wanna know a secret?”

Hawk looked up, nodded, faster than he meant to.

“We’re about to win.”

“We are? Because of Dr. Couzen?”

John Smith took a deep drag off his cigarette. “Partly. He’s the last piece of a plan I’ve been working on for a very long time. A plan that changes everything.”

“What is it?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m pretty smart.”

“I know, Hawk.” John’s voice sounded almost hurt. “I know that.”

“I mean, of course I’m just a normal. I wish I weren’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it. But I’d do anything for . . .” Aaron caught himself just before he said you, amended it to “. . . the cause.” Then he wondered if he’d caught himself in time after all, because the way his friend was looking at him had changed. “What?”

For a long moment, John just stared at him, the cigarette held almost to his lips but not quite.

As if he’d forgotten it was there.