The Variables

“And if I don’t?” she asked.

“We die,” Grant answered. “We all die. Together.”

Without saying another word, Blair reached into her front shirt pocket. She pulled out a small phone and hit a button to call a programmed number. The phone rang once and Blair put the call on speaker and put a finger to her lips.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Claude answered without formalities.

“Claude? It’s Blair. Take us offline!” she said. “Take us offline. It’s chaos down there, Claude. It’s a revolt. You’ve lost the EUS.”

Blair kept crying, but she swallowed her fear. Her voice sounded strong and sure. Darla looked up, the light was getting closer—the surface was in reach.

“Can anyone be saved?” Claude asked. “Where are you?”

“We…we...” Blair stammered. “We’re almost to the surface. We’re struggling here, Claude. Be quick.”

“We?” Claude repeated.

“Grant,” she said in a small voice. Then Blair grimaced. She realized she had made a mistake. She could have said Frank. Instead, she outed him.

Grant’s death had been orchestrated from the begi

“I had to save Grant. He saved me,” Blair said, louder and with conviction. She said the lie quickly and without pausing; he hoped those listening on the other end bought it. He watched as Blair struggled with every word coming out of her mouth.

“And it’s just the two of you?” Claude said. He didn’t wait for confirmation. “Blair, are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” She kept her eyes focused on the floor of the elevator. She was covered in blood—Nate’s, Ryley’s.

“Okay Blair, I need the code.”

“I can’t give you the code, Claude. Mick is dead. He never gave it to me.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, some shuffling of papers. Claude’s voice dropped, “Blair, you know I can’t take you offline without the code. It’s protocol.”

“Mick is dead!” Blair said. She sounded close to panic. “Please, Claude, please. Take us offline! I’m begging you. You don’t know what’s happening here. My life is in danger!”

They kept moving toward the light, toward escape.

“I understand, Blair. It’s my choice and I’ll make the call. I’m taking you offline in ten seconds. Will you be at the surface?”

Grant could now see the entry to the library. They were no more than twenty feet down. Blair looked at Darla and Darla nodded. “Yes,” Blair replied.

“Travel home safely, Blair. I’ll brief your father. Stay close to the phone.” Claude added and the call ended. Seconds later, the elevator rocked and grinded to a stop less than ten feet away from the exit. Grant jumped up and the elevator rocked; he hoisted himself up on to the lip and then lay on his belly and peered down into the pit at the others and extended his hand.

“That’s it?” Darla asked. “That’s all?”

“That’s it?” Blair repeated. “They just took the entire System offline. Lights out. Nothing left. No more elevators, no more communication. Just blackness until they suffocate down there.” She looked at Darla and shook her head. “It’s an awful way to go. It’s an awful thing to do to people...and I did it. I did it to them. So, yes, that’s it. That’s it. You’re safe…others are dead. And that’s it.”

“They would have done it to you,” Darla said, but Blair stood up and brushed her hands off on her skirt.

“That’s not why I did it...that’s not a good enough reason.” She bent down and picked up Frank and he struggled in her arms, clawing against her chest and her shoulders. She lifted him up to Grant and Grant reached down and grabbed Frank around the belly and then set him in the library. Frank bounced around Grant’s body and began sniffing the edges of the bookshelves.

Dean created a stepping stool out of his knee and helped both Darla and Blair to the surface. Then he jumped and grabbed the ledge, hoisting himself up onto the floor. He just rested there, his legs still hanging into the black pit, his upper body out in the library.

Blair grabbed Frank’s leash and walked up to Darla. “Teddy’s mom,” she said. “As if my day couldn’t get more heartbreaking.”

After a beat, Darla nodded. “He’s my everything. I don’t know how you know my son…but…”

Behind a bookshelf, they heard a low whisper. “You left me,” a voice cried, raspy and hoarse.

Grant froze and Blair shrieked, dropping to her knees.

Dean and Darla stared at them and then looked at each other. They began to laugh. It was a bubbling of all the pent-up tension from the last forty minutes. Darla wiped her eyes and wandered to the nonfiction aisle, and Dean joined her. A girl was splayed out making dust angels against the hardwood floor.

“We’re sorry, Ainsley...but trust us...you didn’t want any part of what just happened down there,” Dean said. He stretched out his hand and she sat up.

“Ainsley...” Grant repeated.

“Grant, right?” Ainsley asked and she extended her hand to him. He took it and shook her cold hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added. Grant raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She had wild frizzy hair and a large nose, and one of her front teeth protruded out in front of her other one. She wore torn jeans and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. When she noticed him staring at her, she ducked behind Darla and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“He’s looking at me,” Ainsley said. “Make him stop.”

Dean nudged his son and Grant turned to Blair, unsure of what to make of the girl with the wild hair. He took a step forward. “What happens now?” he asked. “There’s no Copia?”

“There’s no Copia,” she confirmed.

“And I’m supposed to be dead.”

Blair didn’t answer.

“Blair—”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said to the group. “You’re alive and the guards are dead. And Teddy’s mom is alive and...” Blair looked like she was too overwhelmed to continue. “And I’ll have to face my father.”

“Look,” Darla said, but Blair put up her hand to stop her from continuing.

“No,” Blair spat. “Nobody talk to me. You have to let me think. You don’t understand...none of you can understand. I just saved you, but...”

Grant put a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t shove him off. They all stood watching her, realizing slowly that their entire lives rested in Blair’s hands. Frank barked and outside a strong wind blew and it rattled the roof.

“You don’t understand,” she repeated. “What happens now? Now that everything I’ve worked for and wanted is gone?” And without saying anything else or giving them any instructions, Blair tugged on Frank’s leash and stormed out of the library and onto the deserted Brixton road.

Ainsley stuck her head out and followed the line-of-sight out the door and then ducked back. “Who was that?” she asked, pointing after Blair.

“The woman who is going to take me to my son,” Darla answered, and she stuck her gun in the back of her leggings, following Blair into the bright afternoon sun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE