Скотт Вестерфельд - Specials

"It's not your fault, Tally. Come on." Shay pushed through the stairwell door and headed upward, taking each flight in two long bounds. Tally trailed behind, her dizziness almost under control, the manic energy from the wake-up shot fading a little as she ran. The stairwell doors closed behind them, dampening the earsplitting shriek of the alarm.

She wondered what had happened to Shay, where she had been all this time. How long had the other Cutters been here in Diego?

But the questions could wait. Tally was simply glad to be free again, fighting alongside Shay and being special. Nothing could stop the two of them together.

A few flights up, the stairs came to an end. They burst through the last door and onto the roof. The night overhead glittered with thousands of stars, beautifully clear.

After the padded cell, it felt glorious to be out under the open sky. Tally tried to suck in a breath of fresh air, but the smell of hospital still poured from the forest of exhaust chimneys around them.

"Good, they're not here yet," Shay said.

"Who isn't?" Tally asked.

Shay led her across the roof, toward the huge, darkened building next to the hospital—Town Hall, Tally remembered. Shay peered over the edge.

People were streaming out of the hospital, staff in pale blue and white, and patients in flimsy gowns—some walking, some being pushed along on hovercarriers. Tally heard the alarm echoing out of the windows below, and realized that the sound had changed to a two-toned evacuation signal.

"What's going on, Shay? They're not evacuating just because of us, are they?"

"No, not us." Shay turned to her, put a hand on her shoulder. "I need you to listen carefully, Tally This is important."

"I'm listening, Shay. Just tell me what's going on!"

"All right. I know all about Fausto—I tracked down his skintenna signal the moment I got here, more than a week ago. He explained everything."

"Then you know…he's not special anymore."

Shay paused. "I'm not sure if you're right about that, Tally."

"But he's different, Shay. He's weak. I saw it in his …" Tally's voice faded as she peered closer, breath catching in disbelief. In Shay's eyes was a softness that had never been there before. But this was Shay, still so fast and deadly— she'd cut through those wardens like a scythe.

"He's not weak," Shay said. "Neither am I."

Tally shook her head, pulled away, and stumbled back. "They got you too."

Shay nodded. "It's okay, Tally-wa. It's not like they turned me into a bubblehead." She took a step forward. "But you have to listen."

"Don't come near me!" Tally hissed, her hands curling.

"Wait, Tally, something big is happening."

Tally shook her head. She could hear the weakness in Shay's voice now. If she hadn't been so groggy, she would have seen it from the start. The real Shay wouldn't have been so worried about some random warden's wrist. And the real Shay—special Shay—would never have forgiven Tally so easily.

"You want to make me like you! Like Fausto and the Smokies tried to do!"

"No, I don't," Shay said. "I need you the way you—"

Before Shay could utter another word, Tally turned and started running for the opposite edge of the roof as quickly as she could. She had no crash bracelets, no bungee jacket, but she could still climb like a Special. If Shay was as soft as Fausto, she would no longer be as reckless. Tally could just escape this crazy city, and get help from home…

"Stop her!" Shay cried.

Faceless human forms flickered into being among the shapes of exhaust chimneys and antennas. They leaped out of the darkness at Tally, grabbing at her arms and legs.

This was all a trap. "Don't turn on your skintenna," Shay had said, so the rest of them could talk to each other silently, plotting against her.

Tally threw a punch, her wounded fist connecting painfully with an armored suit. A faceless Cutter gripped her arm, but Tally turned her suit slippery and pulled away. She let her momentum carry her into a backward roll, springing up from the ground, leaping to the top of a tall exhaust pipe.

She struggled to pull her suit hood down over her face, to turn invisible before they reached her, but a pair of gloved hands grasped Tally's ankles, pulling her feet out from under her. As she fell from the pipe, another figure caught her. Still more hands grabbed her arms, checking her wild flurry of blows, and with a gentle strength dragged her back down to the roof.

Tally struggled, but special or not, there were too many of them.

They pulled off their hoods—Ho, Tachs, all the other Cutters. Shay had gotten every one of them.

They smiled softly at her, an awful, average kindness in their eyes. Tally struggled, waiting for the sting of an injection in her bare neck.

Shay stood before her, shaking her head. "Tally, would you just relax?"

Tally spat at her, "You said you were saving me."

"I am. If you'd settle down and listen." Shay let out an exasperated sigh. "After Fausto gave me the cure, I called the Cutters. I told them to meet me halfway here. On our way back to Diego, I cured them one by one."

Tally looked around at their faces—a few of them grinning at her as if she were some littlie who wasn't in on a joke—and saw no doubts, no hint of rebellion against Shay's words. They were sheep now, no better than bubbleheads.

Her anger faded into despair. All of their brains had been infected with nanos, made weak and pitiful. Tally was completely alone.

Shay spread her hands. "Listen, we just got back here today. I'm sorry that the Smokies tried to jump you; I wouldn't have let them. This cure isn't what you need, Tally."

"Then let me go!" Tally growled.

Shay paused for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Let her go."

"But Boss," Tachs said. "They're through the defenses already. We've got less than a minute."

"I know. But Tally's going to help us. I know she will."

One by one, the others cautiously released their grip. Tally found herself free, still glaring at Shay, unsure what to do next. She was still surrounded and outnumbered.

"There's no point running, Tally. Dr. Cable's on her way here."

Tally raised an eyebrow. "To Diego? To get you all back?"

"No." Shay's voice broke, almost like some littlie about to cry. "It's all our fault, Tally. Yours and mine."

"What is?"

"After what we did to the Armory, no one believed it was Crims or Smokies. We were too icy, too special. We terrified the whole city."

"Since that night," Tachs said, "everyone in town goes by to see the smoking crater you two left. They bring classes of littlies out to gawk at it."

"And Cable's coming here?" Tally frowned. "Wait, you mean, they figured out it was us?"

"No, they have another theory." Shay pointed at the horizon. "Look."

Tally turned her head. In the distance beyond Town Hall, a mass of bright lights had filled the sky. As she watched, they grew closer and brighter, shimmering like stars on a hot night.

Just like when Tally and Shay had been chased from the Armory.

"Hovercraft," Tally said.

Tachs nodded. "They've given Dr. Cable control of the city military. Everything that's left, anyway."

"Get your boards," Shay said. The others scattered in all directions across the roof.

Shay pushed a pair of crash bracelets into Tally's hands. "You have to stop trying to run away, and face what we started."

Tally didn't flinch at Shay's touch, suddenly too confused to worry about being cured. She could hear the approaching craft now, a swarm of lifting fans humming like some vast engine warming up. "I still don't get it."

Shay adjusted her own bracelets, and a pair of hoverboards rose up from the darkness. "Our city has always hated Diego. Special Circumstances knew about them helping the runaways, about the helicopters carrying people to the Old Smoke. So after the Armory was destroyed, Dr. Cable decided it must have been a military attack. She blamed Diego."