Annum Guard: Blackout Part 7

Violet takes a step back. "We just wanted-"

"What's going on?" I demand as the alarm blares again.

"Red, turn that blasted thing off!" Bonner says. "You three, come inside and shut the door."

Red grunts in frustration, taps a few more keys, and the alarm shuts off, midblast.

"Sit," Bonner says, her eyes still on us. Indigo and Violet drop into chairs. I take a little more time. The three of us stare at her and wait.

Bonner takes a slow breath. "Orange's tracker deactivated about two minutes ago."

I gasp, and I hear Indigo and Violet do the same. That's another new thing around here. After Yellow and I proved just how easy it was to get rid of the old trackers, one of Bonner's first orders of business was to insist on new ones. Better ones. Trackers that required a surgical procedure and general anesthesia to implant computer chips at the bases of our necks. There's no cutting these things out without risking death. And there's no deactivating them either. This can mean only one thing.

"Orange is dead?" Violet whispers.

"No!" Red says. "We don't know that. We don't know anything at this point."

"We need to send a team in immediately to a.s.sess the situation," Bonner says. "The three of you won't have much time to prepare."

"We don't need time," Indigo says. "What was Orange's exact mission?"

"Simple reconnaissance," Red answers, but his eyes s.h.i.+ft to the left, which makes me sit up straighter. He's not telling the whole truth. "Observing a previous mission in which Eta tampered with the 1904 Ma.s.sachusetts governor election."

"No problem," Indigo says, jumping to his feet. "I'm very familiar with that time period. I've gone on a ton of early twentieth-century missions. Plus, Yellow never shuts up about it." This is the truth. We all have time periods we specialize in. Yellow's is the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. That girl will talk your ear off about corsets and courtesy.

Red nods. "Change and hurry back. I'll tell you where you need to go."

"No, I will tell you where you need to go," Bonner says, like she's reminding us she's still in the room.

Indigo and Violet exchange a glance and start for the door. "Wait!" I say, turning to Red. I ignore Bonner's scowl. "Abe-I mean Blue. Is his tracker still on?"

Red nods. "For now."

That's not the rea.s.surance I need. "Should we send someone back to get him?" I hear the anxiety in my voice.

"No," Bonner says.

"I agree," Red says. "We don't know what we're dealing with. For all we know, we could be sending you into an ambush." The way he says that word-ambush-makes me pause.

I follow my teammates out the door. Indigo and Violet go up the main staircase, but I stop in the library.

"What's going on?" Paige asks with a worried look on her face.

"Alarm malfunction. It's nothing," I say. "Why don't you guys call it a day, go home, and we'll see you back in the morning?"

Mike raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying the explanation, which . . . duh. No one would buy that explanation. "Are you sure we can't help?" he asks.

"Positive. An IT contractor is on his way over. We'll see you tomorrow."

Colton slings his bag over his shoulder. "Whatever. Anyone want to go to a bar? I've got my fake ID on me."

"No, Colton," Paige says as she slides the handles of a brown purse onto her arm.

Mike doesn't say anything else. He just . . . stares at me. I can't quite read the look, but I don't have time to decipher it.

"The dinner offer still stands," he finally says to me.

"Thanks, but I really think I should stay here until IT shows up. Maybe next time?"

He gives me a smile that's equally warm and wary, then shuffles behind his friends. Paige nods a good-bye. Colton is already halfway down the block.

I shut the door after them and lock it.

My mind flies to Abe as my feet pound up the steps. He has to be okay, he just has to. But then I stop myself. Worrying about Abe isn't going to do any good. It's just going to distract me from finding Orange, which is what we have to do.

Orange can't be dead. There's like a zero percent chance of violence on these stupid recon missions. Okay, maybe not zero, but less than one. We get in, we watch from a distance, we get out. And if we're compromised, we abandon immediately. Them's the rules. No, there has to be another explanation.

I think of the weird vibe I got from Red. Maybe this wasn't just a simple recon mission. Red and Orange are pretty tight. What if they were up to something?

The sinking feeling in my stomach lingers as I step into a swath of purple fabric that Yellow refers to as my "afternoon dress," and I slip on a pair of low boots with pointed toes and b.u.t.tons on the side. What if Orange is dead? What if we go back and find his body? I don't think I can bear it. I mean, I don't know Orange very well, but I certainly don't want to find him dead.

Violet's shutting her door as I open mine. Her dress is very similar to mine except that it's salmon pink. The color really works with her light-brown skin. She has her short hair pulled back into a tight bun and looks like she's about to puke. She's never been the best in high-stress situations.

Indigo's waiting for us by the stairs, in gray, high-waisted pants with a vest and jacket. He drops a top hat onto his head.

"Any problems letting me lead this one?" he asks. Violet and I both shake our heads. Now is not the time for a who's-better-than-whom p.i.s.sing match. Indigo knows the historical period the best. We'll defer to him.

Bonner and Red are standing in the hallway outside the gravity chamber. Red clasps Indigo on the shoulder. I guess it's obvious he's leading this one.

"It's been eleven minutes already, so we need to hurry," Red says. "Orange was last tracked inside the State House, standing on the west side of the rotunda. By all accounts, the rotunda should be full of people, so someone has to have seen something. I would imagine you're walking into chaos and confusion. Can you do this?"

Beside me, Indigo swallows what I can only a.s.sume is a gigantic lump in his throat and nods. "We have to do this."

Bonner holds open the chamber door for us but doesn't make eye contact. I don't know if she's worried or angry or what. Red tells us the date and time to set our watches, and then he wishes us good luck.

I take a step closer to Red and whisper, "Are you sure there's nothing else I need to know?"

Red looks into my eyes, and I see hesitation and understanding. But all he says is, "Watch yourself."

I don't know if he's talking about the mission or my question.

I step into the gravity chamber, slam my watch face shut, and I'm tumbling down to 1904.

CHAPTER 7.

As soon as we land in the past, we're on our feet and running. The gold dome of the State House hovers over us. A crowd is milling around the entrance on Beacon Street, and I shove a man out of my way as I race up the steps toward the door.

"We get in and we spread out," Indigo orders as his feet pound up the steps. "Iris, you head left; Violet, you head right; and I'll go straight. Keep an eye on each other's coordinates at all times. Got it?"

"Got it," I say. Behind me, Violet grunts in approval. Left, I tell myself. That's west. The spot Orange was last seen in. We approach the door and slow to a walk. Sprinting in like crazed monkeys would draw a bit too much attention. Time to dial it back.

Security at the State House is nonexistent in 1904. In present times, there are guards and metal detectors, but here we just walk on in and no one gives us a second glance. It's so weird the way people in the past just a.s.sumed they were safe.

We rush through Doric Hall, up the few steps into Nurses Hall, then weave our way through the crowd of people milling about the entrance to Memorial Hall. We enter a large rotunda, and I brace myself for chaos and confusion, just like Red said. But there is none. There are people running about, busy on this election day, but there's no ma.s.s hysteria. Certainly no police and onlookers crowded around a body. I look at Indigo, and he jerks his head left before heading through the arches toward the Hall of Flags.

I push my way through a group of men talking about whether a candidate named Douglas has the Socialist votes. Memorial Hall is a ma.s.sive round room with arches held up by marble Ionic columns. There's a balcony level that circles the entire room. And Orange is nowhere to be seen.

I look over at Violet on the other side of the rotunda. She's weaving in and out of the arches, scanning every inch of the room. I do the same, going in the other direction.

Men wearing tall hats, men wearing funny suits, men shouting about this or that political issue on the ballot. But no Orange.

"Pardon me, sir." I tap a rather large man on the shoulder. He's talking to a short, thin man who looks like his polar opposite. They're standing almost exactly where Orange supposedly disappeared. "I'm trying to locate my brother. He said he would meet me in this spot twenty minutes ago, but I haven't seen him. Have you been standing here awhile?"

The large man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold watch hanging from a chain. "Dear me, is that the time?" He squints. "I suppose I have been here for a while. Half an hour at least." He looks at his companion and chuckles. "You're far too engaging, Norris."

I don't have time for this. "My brother. He's about this tall." I hold up my hand about six inches above my head. "Light-blue eyes, hair as orange as a carrot, face dotted with freckles."

I catch Norris staring at my dark-brown hair and olive complexion. He raises an eyebrow. "Your brother?"

I clear my throat. "Have you seen him?"

"I haven't seen anyone matching that description, miss. I'm sorry."

"Very well. Thank you for your time."

I ask a few more people, except this time I change "brother" to "cousin." But it's the same answer every time. No one has seen Orange. It's like he wasn't here at all, which makes no sense. He was tracked here. This floor, this spot. Right freaking here.

I look over to find Violet staring at me from across the rotunda. She shrugs. I can't see where Indigo disappeared to, so I look back at Violet and point at the balcony. She nods and takes off toward the stairs.

But then I stop. There's something on one of the pillars, right by where Orange was last tracked. It's small and rectangular and looks like a sticker, but I'm pretty sure they didn't have stickers in 1904.

No, this one was placed here by a modern traveler. The hair on my arms stands on end. I walk closer to the sticker, but I already know what's on it. I just know.

My gaze flies to the balcony. Violet's stepping off the last stair now. I look back and claw at the sticker. It peels off in one go, and I push up my sleeve, slap it onto my forearm, then pull my sleeve back into place. I race for the stairs.

The balcony is crowded, but not as crowded as the ground floor. I pretend to look over the edge, but I know I'm not going to find Orange.

"Did you see anything?" Violet hisses to me.

"Where is Orange?" I ask. I don't answer her question, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Do you think someone took him?"

Operation Blackout. It's the only thought running through my head. They took Orange. They took Zeta. But who? And why?

"Why would anyone take him?" I say. "And that wouldn't explain why his tracker went off. You and I both know there's only one way those things deactivate now. So a.s.suming people took him, they'd have had to kill him there, right there"-I lean over the edge of the balcony and point to the western arches-"and then smuggle his body out of this crowded building."

"That seems . . . highly unlikely." Violet chews her bottom lip.

"You think?"

"So then what happened to him?"

I remember the brief conversation I had with Orange just a week ago. How unhappy he was with all of the changes that have been made.

Blackout. Orange was blacked out because he was too vocal. Did Bonner have something to do with this?

"I don't know," I say.

I spot Indigo. He's back in the rotunda. He glances around, and I let out a sharp whistle. He sees us in the balcony and holds up both hands, palms up. He hasn't found anything either.

The sticker on my arm is making my skin tingle.

Violet and Indigo insist on spending the next forty minutes combing this place, which is just a waste of time. Every hour we spend here means that more than ten hours pa.s.s in the present. But I can't very well say no, so I join in the fruitless search. Indigo even manages to sneak himself inside the governor's office for a minute.

I should tell them we're not going to find Orange. But I don't. Not yet.

"Now what?" Violet asks as the three of us head down the stairs. Boston Common spreads out before us, and I notice the chill in the air. I wasn't thinking when I left. I dressed for the summer, not late fall.

"It doesn't make any sense," Indigo says. "There's not a trace of Orange anywhere in that building." Then he turns to me. "You've been very quiet."

I rub my arm. I can't tell them I found the sticker-can't tell them about XP-but I can say something.

"I'm just wondering whether Bonner had anything to do with his disappearance." I feel their eyes boring into me.

"That's quite an accusation." Indigo pauses. "Not that I don't think that woman is heinous, but where is this coming from?"

I tell them about my weird conversation with Orange. How he practically shouted to Bonner that he didn't have to take her c.r.a.p rules anymore.

"But the door was closed?" Violet says.

"When he said it? Yeah. But he said it really loudly. There's no way she didn't hear him."

"So what's your theory? Bonner sent one of us back to kill Orange out of spite?" Indigo shakes his head. "Because apart from the three of us, the only people who can project are Yellow, Green, and New Blue. You think one of them killed Orange?"

And then I remember distant, drugged eyes staring out at me from an elevator lobby.

"Tyler can still project, too." My voice is a whisper.

"Old Blue?" Indigo says. "You think Old Blue did this?"

"I'm just kind of thinking out loud."