Partials series 1-3

“They don’t know what he looks like,” said Xochi. “We can sneak him out like one of us.”

“They’re just as likely to mistake a human for a Partial as the other way around,” said Kira, scanning the mob nervously. “We may have overdone this a little.”

“We haven’t done anything yet,” said Xochi, pressing forward. “This mob doesn’t do us any good until it gets inside and starts breaking things.” She charged into the crowd, pushing toward the front, shouting loudly as she went. “They’ve been in league with the Partials all along! This is how they do it—new diseases, new deaths, new oppressions. This isn’t the first time!”

Kira and Marcus followed as best they could, jostling violently through the heart of the throbbing crowd. The drug haze in Kira’s head made the crush surreal and terrifying, loud and angry and larger than life. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.

Xochi reached the front and turned around, climbing on the hood of an old, discarded car. “Do you know why they’re doing this? Because they want to control us! Because if we’re terrified, we’ll do anything they tell us to.” The crowd roared in agreement, and Xochi continued. “‘Inform on your friends!’ ‘Don’t leave the city!’ ‘Get pregnant before RM kills us!’” The crowd was louder now, more agitated, roiling around Kira in fierce Brownian motion.

Someone threw a rock at the soldiers, missing the men but cracking loudly against the glass door behind them. More rocks followed, a vicious hail, and Xochi kept shouting as loudly as she could.

“We’re sick of secrets! If the Senate has a Partial in there, bring it out where we can see it!”

The crowd surged forward, a flood of fists and anger. The soldiers fired into the air and the crowd pulled back, but not as far as before; the gap was smaller now than ever.

“They didn’t shoot anyone,” said Kira. “They’re probably under orders not to. We have to rush the doors now, before they’re cleared to use lethal force.”

“They’re firing on their own people!” shouted Xochi, reaching for her own pistol. Kira and Marcus shoved forward in alarm, struggling to reach her before she turned this into a shoot-out.

“They have automatic rifles!” Kira shouted, her voice drowned by the crowd. “Xochi, don’t!”

Xochi turned, pistol in hand, and Marcus grabbed her leg and yanked her down. She fell with a thud on the hood of the car, pistol up, and Kira grabbed it, keeping it pointed at the sky. Xochi choked, fighting for breath, then groaned and coughed when it finally returned.

“Ow,” she gasped.

“You can’t shoot yet,” Kira hissed. “The soldiers will turn this into a massacre.”

“Then we need to make this happen now,” said Marcus, and jumped on the car beside Xochi with a rock in each fist. “Storm the doors!” he shouted, throwing his first rock. It hit a soldier in the arm and he whipped up his rifle, pointing it at the crowd; the officer next to him pulled the soldier’s arm back down, shouting something Kira couldn’t hear. Marcus threw his second rock and hit one of the doors squarely in the center, shattering the safety glass into a pile of tiny cubes. It was like a signal to the crowd, and they surged forward again. Xochi shoved her pistol back into her hip holster, and the trio ran forward with the crowd, slamming to a halt as the front line impacted with the soldiers. Kira felt herself being smashed from both sides, felt her feet being stepped on, felt a painful kick against her burn that almost brought her to her knees. If I go down, I’ll be trampled to death. She fought for air, pushing forward with all her strength.

“The crowd will turn to the right when we break through the doors,” said Marcus, grunting with the exertion. “Go left and head for the stairs.”

The crowd behind was pushing forward too strongly, but there was nowhere to go; Kira’s chest compacted under the pressure, the air slowly squeezed out of her lungs. She saw spots, felt her head go light, and suddenly the dam broke. Rioters surged ahead through the doors, pressing the soldiers back or simply swarming around them. Kira ran forward blindly, carried by the crowd, trying simply to stay upright. She passed through the doors and into the wide foyer, picking up speed as the crowd spread out beyond the bottleneck. She shook her head, trying to clear it, then remembered the stairs and cut left, weaving through the angry mob, keeping her eyes on the unmarked door to the stairwell. Marcus reached it just as she did, and Xochi just after; they pulled it open and dove through into blessed empty silence.

Kira panted, slowly getting her breath back. Her leg throbbed dully. “Anyone following us?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Xochi. “Let’s blaze—we have to go now, before the soldiers regain control.”

“Assuming they even can,” said Marcus, leaping up the stairs two at a time. He turned the corner, and his voice echoed down. “We’ll be lucky if we have an island left to save after this.”

Kira pulled out her pistol and moved up after him, Xochi close behind. Fourth floor, thought Kira, counting each flight of stairs as they passed it. Will the Grid pull guards away from Samm to help downstairs, or will they see what’s happening and add even more?

They reached the fourth floor, and Kira crouched by the door, bracing herself.

“Give me a minute to get out my shotgun,” she said, reaching for her bag. “If we’re starting a firefight with armed soldiers, I don’t want to be stuck with this peashooter—”

She was interrupted by the loud crack of a gunshot on the other side of the door. She looked up in alarm.

“They’re already firing?”

“That wasn’t toward us,” said Xochi. “Somebody’s beat us to the Partial’s room.”

“The other stairwell,” said Kira, and threw open the door. Halfway down the corridor the soldiers were crouched low, facing the other direction, guns trained on the far end of the hall. She gasped: Haru was there, and Jayden, and three other armed rioters, though Kira couldn’t tell who was with who. She dropped to the floor and brought her pistol forward, though at this range it would barely do anything.

“Behind us!” shouted one of the soldiers, turning toward Kira, and in that instant one of the rioters landed a lucky shot on the man’s shoulder. The soldier cried out and fell prone, and Haru swung his rifle around and shot the rioter. The lone remaining soldier pressed himself even farther into the doorway.

“We’re surrounded!” he shouted, thumbing his radio. “We need backup on the fourth floor ASAP!”

“They’re going to kill Samm,” Kira growled, racing forward. “Haru! Jayden!”

The second soldier was down, and at least one of the rioters lay sprawled on the floor several yards behind the rest. The group swung up their rifles, but Haru and Jayden recognized Kira and ordered everyone to lower them again.

“Kira,” said Haru, “can’t say it’s a surprise to see you here.” He checked his chamber and racked the slide, pointing back the way they had come. “Barricade those doors. Most of the mob hasn’t figured out he’s up here yet, but they’re going to eventually.”

“We’re not here to guard him,” said Kira. “We’re here to break him out.”

Haru stared, then laughed and shook his head. “Are you serious? Are you crazy? We brought that thing here so we could interrogate and dissect it, and now you want to make a deal with it? I was with you before, Kira, but this has gone too far.” He pointed his rifle at her chest. Xochi and Marcus pointed their guns at him, and Jayden and the other three pointed their guns back. Kira stood in the middle, breathing slowly, trying desperately to stay calm. Her head swam with the morphine.

“Samm is innocent,” said Kira. “The group we met on the island was coming to East Meadow to offer us a truce. Peace, Haru.”

“How do you know this?”

“He told us.”

Haru looked around, as if to ask if he was the only one who hadn’t lost his mind.

“It’s true,” said Marcus.

“He tried to kill us,” said Haru, turning his gun on Marcus. “They took our scout, shot Gabe in the face, and chased us off the island with a squad full of rifles, and all of a sudden that means they wanted peace? That’s not the kind of peace I want any part of.”

“He’s an ally,” Kira insisted. “He can help us rebuild.”

Haru shook his head, as if the world had gone mad. “Damn plague babies—do you have any idea what we lost the last time we trusted the Partials?” He gestured angrily toward the city. “Every one of the houses out there used to be filled. Every building was still standing—every school was full of children. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the population died, Kira: If that happened again, we’d have two people left. Two, on the entire island. We will never rebuild anything.”

“They’re dying,” Kira insisted, “just like we are. If we work together, we can save us both—”

“I don’t want to save us both!” Haru shouted. “I want to save my child and murder every Partial on Earth!”

“Saving your child is why we’re here!” Kira said, raising her voice. “You can guard him all night if you want but the Senate is going to kill him in the morning, and we don’t have a cure yet. If I go with him, we can find one.”

Haru stared at her, rage and confusion warring in his eyes. “I’m not letting you take it.”

“She named her, Haru.” Kira felt her voice crack and forced herself to stay firm. “Your baby has a name: Arwen Sato. Your daughter is Arwen Sato.” She glanced at Jayden. “Your niece is Arwen Sato.” She looked back at Haru, drilling into him with her eyes. “We can save her.”

“Not in time,” said Haru. His eyes were wet, his face red, his teeth bared.

“No.” It was Jayden. He moved his arm, swinging his rifle around from Marcus to Haru. “Kira’s right. Put down your gun.”

“Are you crazy?”