Chapter 6

Zacharias crawled out of the cave and ran around the rock, staring upwards in horror.

The screams were growing distant; one of the hawks had lifted Joseph off the ground and carried him into the sky. Zacharias cocked his gun, but knew perfectly well that he had no chance of hitting anything at that range.

Vocal commands, vocal commands. Oh, even if he knew them, those hawks wouldn't be able to hear.

He jumped over a bush and felt a sharp pain in his leg. He stumbled, but ignored it. Probably one of the branches had brushed against one of his many bruises.

The other two hawks dove at him; he fired once, and the closer creature fell to the sand beside him, spattering him with blood. He cocked the gun again, took aim, and hit the second hawk in the wing.

Never shoot to kill, but to incapacitate. That way, you can always change your mind later.

He dashed over to the still-breathing hawk and stayed well out of reach of its flailing limbs. "Stop," he tried. "Uh, please? Cherry on top? I hate verbal codes."

Okay, different approach. What kind of codes did the English biotechnicians use? Complicated ones. Like Alex's encyclopedias.

Encyclopedias...

Zinc, used in the manufacture of galvanized metals.

And who made the most galvanized metals these days?

English technicians.

He prodded the fallen hawk with his toe. "Are your claws galvanized?" he asked. "Seems likely. Let's see. What did the Z encyclopedia say? Bristol. No? Zinc oxide. Die casting. Electrolysis."

The hawk raised its head, fierce yellow eyes staring intently at him.

"Okay, electrolysis makes you take notice, does it? Uh, dissolution in acid?"

The hawk flexed its claws.

"This code sucks," Zacharias noted. He stepped back from the hawk, which screeched in pain, and resumed gazing at the only hawk that still flew, hoping that it would come within hearing range soon.

After a few minutes, the hawk dove. Joseph had stopped screaming - not a promising sign. Zacharias raised his gun and waited.

"Electrolysis!" he yelled, as soon as he was relatively sure it could hear him.

The hawk soared toward him, coming lower, until it was skimming a mere ten feet off the ground...

"Dissolution in acid. That is so ridiculous."

The hawk dropped Joseph and continued on its flight toward Zacharias.

He squeezed the trigger, and the hawk cried out once before collapsing in a quivering heap on the sand.

The others, who had been watching from behind the rock, appeared cautiously as Zacharias approached their fallen comrade. There were many bloody slashes on Joseph's torso, and his shirt had been reduced to shreds.

Shem reached them first and knelt beside Joseph. "Go get the First Aid kit," he said tersely.

Zacharias nodded and ran for the Wavedancer.

* * *

Lasa stared at the corpses of the hawks. "Why are they here?" she whispered. "We never did anything to England."

"Oh, don't blame England," Zacharias said. It had been twenty minutes since his return with the First Aid kit, and everyone but Shem, Alex, and obviously Joseph had been banished to the far side of the rock. "This is entirely the fault of our own government. See, you probably didn't know that the Espionage Guild is based out of London."

The others stared at him as he continued, "In fact, it's the spies who sent those hawks after us. They're meant to protect this place. They arrived today."

"We should have trusted you," Lasa said softly.

Erion bit his lip. "Is Joseph going to die?"

"God, I hope not."

Zacharias stood up and wandered off. "We'd best get on with it," he said. "I think the buildings are off this way, behind that hill."

Lasa, Erion, Monica, and Roger followed him, though Ysranna hesitated. "I want to be sure Joseph's okay," Ysranna said.

"Okay, see you in a bit," Lasa said. Something occurred to her then. "I think you ought to bring Joseph closer to the facility, and come inside if anything else attacks."

"I'll tell Shem," Ysranna said.

By the time they caught up to Zacharias, he already had the front door open and was resting his head against the window. He glanced up, smiled shakily, and led them into the facility. It was a large complex, all steel and glass inside, but well-hidden on the outside with dark green paint.

The first room was empty of everything but a thick layer of dust. The floors were tile, the walls steel, and the next door locked.

Zacharias sighed and fell to his knees, pulling his lockpicks out of his pocket. "You'd think," he grumbled, "that they could leave something open once in a while. For convenience."

It took him a few minutes, because his hands were trembling. Lasa stared at him, confused. Perhaps the encounter with the hawks had shaken him more than he liked to admit?

He got the door open and led them down a hallway. They came to an intersection. There was a sign on the wall with arrows on it, showing that the docks were to the left and the testing area to the right. Zacharias hesitated, then took the right fork.

There was another locked door at the end of this corridor, equipped with a number pad. Lasa had read about those, but this was the first she'd ever seen.

"It's on," Zacharias said softly, pointing to a small green light. "Hang on." He studied the panel for a moment. "What year did the War end?"

"Uh, 2094, I think."

"All right, and when did it start?"

"Well, that depends. Some textbooks say 2001, and some say the beginning of the end was in 2039 when the - "

"Okay, all right, I don't need a history lesson, just dates." He keyed in 9401, and when that failed to work, 9439, then 0194, 3994, and finally 4321 in irritation. "Do we have any other significant dates floating around? I doubt we have many more tries before security comes on or something."

"Okay. Let me think." Lasa had begun to understand what he was shooting at. "How do you know they're using dates?"

"I'm guessing."

"Fine. Try 0911."

He typed it in, and the door slid open with a dreadful creaking to reveal a staircase.

"Ha," Lasa said. "Do I show promise as a Codebreaker or what?"

"Maybe," Zacharias said, rolling his eyes. He walked down the stairs unsteadily, and paused to rest at the bottom, drawing breath shallowly.

"Are you all right?" Erion asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked away. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Though they remained unconvinced, they continued following him. Roger nearly walked into a thick spiderweb and squeaked as he hopped backwards.

"I hate this place," he muttered.

The path slanted upwards, and they emerged, blinking, into a domed room. The air was heavy with dust, and Zacharias broke into a fit of coughing, leaning on Monica for support.

"Ah," an unfamiliar voice said. "I see you have arrived. Well, five of you, anyway. Pathetic, Mr. Mathari; you only have half."

Zacharias looked up, his pupils contracted even though the light was not terribly bright. "Hello, Agent Matthews."

Agent Matthews stepped forward, a gun glinting in his right hand. "We've been watching you since you landed on the island," he said. "We saw what you did with our hawks. Brilliant deduction about the code, I must say. What did you do, read the zinc entry in the encyclopedia?"

"As geeky as it sounds, yes," Zacharias said. He coughed again. "I can't breathe."

Agent Matthews smiled beatifically. "That would be because you are dying."

"Am I? That's a relief."

Lasa stepped forward, fists clenched. "You're American. Do you have any idea what's at stake if that weapon explodes?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes. In fact, I'm counting on it. Would you like a lesson in politics?"

"Why not," Roger said. "We've got all day."

"As a matter of fact," Agent Matthews said, "your friend Mr. Mathari has only an hour or two. But that will be discussed later. Please, sit down." He will be dead in a few hours. But we'll discuss that when you have only two minutes left to find the antidote. Don't worry, all will be properly angsty and climactic. *sigh* He's waiting because he wants them to leave Zac for dead. If he tells them the truth, and that Zac is a spy, they're more likely to let him die.

The five of them sat down on the dusty floor, though in Zacharias' case it was more of a collapse.

"Now, then," Agent Matthews said. "Where to begin? Ah, yes. Perhaps you noted the date encrypted in our number panel? September eleventh, referring of course to 2001 and the attacks against America that took place on that day.

"It was shortly thereafter that a small faction of those you call 'spies' broke away from the United States government. The truth is, you can't entrust power to elected politicians. It's all about publicity and getting ahead with them. You need real workers. At any rate, this faction called themselves 'The Resistance' and worked underground for years to fight the good fight.

"Sadly, their movement was doomed to failure. They were discovered in 2031 and disbanded, many of the members locked in jail. However, a few escaped and bargained with certain countries in the Middle East. They got their hands on the technology that lies just in the next room - the weapon that would be used to threaten America decades later.

"I say 'threaten' because that weapon was never meant to explode. It was a bargaining tool to help the Resistance gain political power from the President. Unfortunately, in his panic, the President agreed to that ridiculous New Constitution. The supercomputer that would activate the weapon was destroyed, as were the plans - all but those few duplicated by the Resistance."

"I see," Lasa said dully. "So it was the spies all along."

"Of course. Now, though, we want life back to the way it was, and for that we need a Presidential Decree. Best way to get it? Bring back our best bargaining tool. So, you see, we cannot allow you to dismantle our weapon."

"What about Zacharias?" Monica asked.

Agent Matthews shrugged. "He failed us. He was meant to stop you from leaving North Carolina in the first place. He was meant to delay your progress, so that the hawks would have a chance to settle in. He was meant to let them kill you, which he obviously did not do. He has become a liability to the Guild."

"What is he dying of?"

"Lithicodone poisoning," Agent Matthews said, with some satisfaction. "He was so busy fighting our hawks that he failed to notice one of our agents injecting him with it from the bush where he lay hidden. Considering he was running at the time, that's one agent with nursing 5K1LLZ. Actually, it was more of an agent with dart-throwing skills. Ahh. But don't most darts like that have to stick in order to let enough of the stuff in? This one would have to fall off immediately. Sigh. Fine. I'll fix it. Eventually. I am, however, prepared to turn a bargain."

Lasa brushed at her eyes, which threatened to tear up. "Yeah, what?"

"I will give you the antiserum which can save his life if you allow my agents to accompany you to London, where you will remain for the rest of your lives."

"Overseas," Lasa whispered. She had left everything behind just to avoid overseas - and it now seemed that Zacharias was a traitor, anyway.

But they would all be killed, probably, if she refused.

It was the choice that only heroes could make: her friends, or possibly everyone else.

"Damn it all," she said despondently. "Give me the antidote."

Zacharias looked up at her, his eyes dazed. "I didn't think you'd pick me."

"I'm not doing this for you," she snapped. "I'm doing it for my friends. Big difference."

* * *

By the time the five reached their friends, Joseph was conscious, though his dark eyes were glazed over with pain.

Lasa explained the situation, and as she had expected, her brothers attempted to strangle Zacharias. He was protected by Monica and Erion, who for some reason felt sorry for him.

"You realize," the spy said wearily, "that we can't escape. The spies are probably on board the Wavedancer already."

"I know," Lasa said. She lowered her voice, causing the others to lean in. "That's why we won't be taking the Wavedancer."

"We don't have another choice," Zacharias whispered.

"Oh, we do so. Did you not wonder how they got on the island?"

"Super secret ninja techniques?" Roger suggested.

"No," Lasa said, exasperated. "They used the docks. So, guess what? We're also going to use the docks. If my navigational skills haven't failed me, they're that way." She pointed.

Monica raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you read the sign."

"What sign?" Erion asked.

"The one on the wall in the building."

"I didn't see a sign."

"Yes, well, that's because you are a farmer."

"At heart, I am a builder of bikes."

"Same difference."

* * *

It proved to be almost too easy to steal a motorboat. It wasn't really big enough for all of them, but they managed, though the tight fit caused tempers to flare.

"So," Alex said, his voice deceptively calm. "Zacharias. What made you decide to turn traitor?"

"He was a traitor all along," Roger said. "He led us into a trap."

"Leave him alone," Erion admonished. "He's still recovering and anyway, he did save Joseph."

"And I'm sure he had some evil reason for doing that," Alex said.

Monica rested a hand on Alex's arm. "Stop it, dear. You have to realize, he didn't know it was wrong. It was just his job."

"You are an actress, Monica. You like to see the good in people. Just face it, some people are evil and there's nothing that can redeem them."

"Hello, still conscious over here," Zacharias broke in.

Lasa stared grimly out toward the coastline. "We're not letting them get away with this," she announced.

"Oh, really?" Roger asked bitterly. "How do you plan to stop them? Do you even realize that not only are we runaways, we now have the entire Espionage Guild out looking for us? We'll be lucky if we last out the month, let alone manage to stop them."

Lasa sighed. "Okay, guys, listen. Maybe the last time they tried to build that computer, the engineers knew not to turn it on. But this time, no one believes in that weapon, and we're more in danger from the Education Guild than we'll ever be from the Espionage Guild. After all, we have one of their own."

Zacharias looked up. "I've probably been disowned by now." Disowned. Interesting choice of word. Yeah? How so? It suggests that he considers the spies his family. Which I don't think he does. And it's already been implied they don't care if he dies so I'd assume they "disowned" him long before... True. So...what was the point of this comment again?

"But you're the best Codebreaker in the world," Lasa pointed out. "Regardless of whether or not they believe it. I'm sure you can help us destroy the computer."

"Okay," Ysranna said suddenly, "why didn't we just go after the computer in the first place?"

"My mom said it was too well-guarded. But that was then, and now that I've seen Zac at work, I think he can get us in. I really do."

"You still trust him?" Shem asked. "Lasa, are you insane?"

Zacharias flashed a tired smile at her, and said, "Never call me Zac."

* * *

Arietta Taylor was making scrambled eggs when someone knocked on her door. She prodded at the eggs, then decided to abandon them for the few seconds it would take to run over to the door and open it.

"Hi, Mum," Lasa said, brushing new-fallen snow out of her hair. "The entire Espionage Guild is out trying to kill us and/or send us overseas, so we've decided to hide out here."

Arietta wordlessly stepped back as the nine of them poured into the house. Alex sneezed and began seeking out tissues.

"Hi, Mrs. Taylor," Erion said cheerfully. "We can't stay long, it's snowing and we have to find somewhere to hide that isn't so obvious."

There was a redheaded girl who Arietta didn't recognize. "We tried Shem's hospital," the girl said sadly, "but it didn't work. We tried to gain sanctuary at the temple, but they're mad at us. We even considered dashing out to North Carolina. The truth is, we have nowhere else to go anymore. They've found us at every turn."

"Yeah," Alex added. "So we came to check in, and then we're planning to steal a few carriages and head to New York to take care of the computer."

Arietta's eggs were burning; she quickly returned to her cooking. "Why are you stealing? That's illegal."

Shem laughed. "God, Mom, we've been doing illegal stuff for a few months now. In fact, just about the only thing we haven't done is murder."

"Though they came close," the blond boy added. Arietta remembered meeting him in July, but couldn't recall his name.

"All right," Arietta said slowly. "Why don't you explain what you've been doing for the past few months?"

"In three words," Joseph said. "Giant. Evil. Hawks."

The redhead laughed. "No, it was more like 'constant desperate terror.'"

"It so was not."

"It so was."

"Oh," the girl said suddenly. "Erion, did God get wet?"

Erion reached into a pocket and withdrew a small stuffed frog. "No, God's fine."

"Mrs. Taylor," Joseph whined, "my former best friends are being mean to me."

Arietta turned off the stove and scraped her eggs onto a plate. "Okay, explain yourselves. In more than three words, please."

"Fine," Alex said, pouting. "But can we have something to eat first?"

* * *

The events leading up to October 1 were no more than Arietta had expected, though Alex's engagement to Monica came as a bit of a shock. However, after the escape from the island, things went south. Literally.

The nine companions, after pausing at a hospital to ensure that Zacharias' antidote had worked, dashed southeast into Nevada, intending to hide out in Las Vegas. When they were discovered, they fled into Utah and stayed with a friend of Alex's. By the first of November, they had been discovered there, and stole horses to ride to Michigan, figuring that one of Shem's doctor friends could help them. Zacharias almost immediately noticed that the hospital where Shem worked had been infiltrated with spies, and that there probably wasn't any place of safety in the city. They turned around and rode to Indiana, where they discovered that the temple refused to aid runaways.

"We don't know what else to do," Roger said. "We haven't got anyplace else to go. They know us all by now, I'm sure. I guess the only reason that they aren't watching your house is that they know we're not stupid enough to come here. Except, obviously, we are."

Zacharias smiled, that exhausted grin that crossed his face so often now. "They know me too well, and they can anticipate every move I'll make. But I figured that if it was someone else telling us where to go next...I mean, we just have to shake them off long enough to get to New York and get rid of the computer."

The house wasn't really big enough for ten people, but they managed. Erion had fallen asleep, his head on Lasa's shoulder. Arietta gazed upon those she had chosen to lead the rebellion, and upon those who had gotten involved on their own, and knew that destroying the computer wouldn't be enough.

"Zacharias, Lasa," she said, standing up. "Can I speak to you alone?"

Lasa glanced at Zacharias, and went after her mother, carefully laying Erion out on the floor as she did. The blond ex-spy followed them onto the porch, shivering in the unexpectedly harsh wind. Snowflakes caught in his silvery eyelashes, and he blinked at Arietta. In the cold grey light he was painfully beautiful, and Lasa avoided his gaze.

"You two understand this best," Arietta said, "because you have been in this from the beginning, especially you, Zacharias."

"Yes," he said softly. "And I'm sorry."

Arietta bit her lip and gazed out at the sleepy town. "America is dying," she whispered. "It's not about saving us from the weapon anymore, it's about saving us from ourselves. The way things are isn't right. I know how things should be, but I can't just say 'Make it so.' I need - "

"You need us," Lasa said. "You need us to make it so."

Zacharias shivered again and turned his head so that his hair wouldn't be in his face. "It's not going to be easy. The computer would have been easy - still is easy, in fact. I think we can do that. But you're talking about getting the old Constitution back. Getting our freedom back. We'll be plunged into war, and the country isn't ready for war yet." "Yet," you say? What's going on that will be ready in a few years or whatever? The computer, of course. You think a bunch of people 150 years behind in tech developments carrying swords and hopelessly out-of-date guns can beat everyone else? Because if things go back the way they are, someone will remember all the pre-emptive strikes, and America will be attacked. Zac knows this. No one else seems to have thought of it. Before anything can change, America has to quietly catch up with the rest of the world.

Arietta smiled bitterly. "I'll admit that a pack of fugitives isn't exactly the sort of people who generally lead a rebellion, but you have no idea how much America needs you."

Lasa thought about that, about giant hawks and days spent running from spies, about Separation and nights spent keeping watch, about losing her freedom and losing her future.

"I think," she said slowly, "that we know better than you do how much America needs us."

* * *

The nine companions celebrated Christmas in Pennsylvania. Arietta had laid out a delightful zigzag pattern for them to follow which would place them in New York City on New Year's Eve.

They arrived early on December 30, found a friend of Zacharias', He has no friends. We had an argument earlier about whether he would state as much. He was doing his "Trust-me-I'm-so-angsty" act. and convinced him to lend them enough money to pay for their expenses until they left the city. The convincing involved a gun, some rope, and several rather ingenious plots that no one had any intention of carrying out.

Zacharias easily broke into the Education Guildhall and stole some blueprints and schedules. He brought them back to the hotel, and the group gathered in Lasa's room to go over them.

"Okay," Zacharias said. "The Guildhall is fifteen stories high with the computer on the thirteenth level. The guards have quarters on the twelfth and fourteenth floors, and patrol regularly. Idiots. It's easy to get around regularity. Now, then, the best way in is through the back, where I got in. The elevators don't go to the thirteenth floor, and I don't want to get out on the fourteenth where all the guards are, but we can go to the fifteenth and walk down two flights of stairs."

"What are the security measures?" Shem asked conspiratorially.

"All the doors to the computer room lock from the inside and are kept locked when someone is working. Our window of opportunity is at lunchtime, when the engineers leave. See, they all have the same one-hour period for lunch, so no one's in the room."

"Oh, no," Ysranna moaned. "We're going in broad daylight?"

"There is no better time," Monica pointed out. "The guards are expecting break-ins at night."

"Right." Zacharias pulled out the schedules. "Now, there are twelve guards working the thirteenth floor at lunchtime, and only five of them sweep past the computer room. We can use the two-minute interval between guards four and two to get in, and then we just take something irreplaceable, wait for the forty-second interval here - " He jabbed a finger at the schedule - "and then we run for the stairs and get out of the Guildhall. Oh, so simple. It's almost sad. Almost forgot. The guards are armed with guns and swords, the idea being that pointy objects never fail, I think."

"What are we armed with?" Lasa asked.

Zacharias smirked. "Me, Monica, and however many swords we can steal between now and lunchtime tomorrow." Monica? Why Monica? She's an actress.

"Why not guns?"

"Because guns, my dear Lasa, are kept track of by the government, who will notice if some go missing. Plus, they are noisy and you all have no idea how to use them. Swords, though, are fairly easy to get, especially for Ysranna and Roger."

Neither Ysranna nor Roger said anything, just stared pointedly at Zacharias until he noticed.

"Oh, you want to know why I've singled you out? Because you two have a brother in the military. Isn't it time you bought him and his little friends their Christmas presents? For shame, letting it go so late."

* * *

Ysranna and Roger stepped into the military shop rather nervously. There was a guard dozing on a chair in the corner. Roger, being a teenage boy, immediately ran over to the display of whips. Ysranna, as a chaste priestess, smacked him over the head and dragged him up the counter.

"Hi," she said to the clerk. "Our brother Thomas is in the military, and we want to buy him a new sword for Christmas."

The clerk, who had been reading a magazine, stared at them. "Christmas was five days ago."

"Yeah, we know. But we were at parties all the time, and we just didn't get out until now."

The clerk sighed heavily and turned to survey the swords hanging on the wall. "A sabre might work," he suggested.

"Um, that hilt is gold. He's allergic to gold. Have you got one in silver?"

The clerk disappeared into the stock room. When he returned a few minutes later with the requested sabre, the customers had vanished, as had several of the display swords and one of the whips. However, since there was plenty of money left on the counter and the kids hadn't really looked like killers, the clerk decided not to care, and returned to the stock room to replace the missing swords. Pathetic security for a shop of weapons. How true that is. Will add dozing security guard in a corner.