Read Online The Revival by Chris Weitz - Free Book Online Page B

pimps and prostitutes at the Bazaar. The things that happened to Kath that she won’t even talk about. I think of the Mole People, literally forced underground because they wouldn’t submit to them. And
now
I know what I
really
came here for.
    I take his hands. Our breath mingles in the cold air.
    Me: “Okay. Jefferson. I guess I did come for you. For your sake. You want to get out from under this? Redeem yourself? Then you listen to me. You can forget about the big picture for a little while.” I speak to him gently, but I don’t leave any room for doubt or questions. “Stop dreaming. Think about our
friends
. You and me, we are going to find them. If we do one thing, if we die doing it, we are going to get those girls back from Uptown. You understand?”
    Jefferson: “The nukes—”
    Me: “Will have to wait. First we save our family.
Then
we save the world.”
    Rab: “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
    It’s now that I realize Rab is standing nearby, peering down curiously into Brainbox’s grave, close enough to have heard everything. He doesn’t appear to have snuck up or anything. He’s just standing there with his usual air of Cool Guy confidence, like he can talk his way into any party or any conversation.
    Rab: “Why choose between nuclear blackmail and white slavery?” He’s bright and upbeat. “Our quarry is Chapel and his pet psychotic, right? Find them and we find your girls, don’t we?”
    Kath: “No. We don’t.” She’s sauntered over from the snowball fight.
    Great. Now everybody is joining in. The sacred mood broken, Titch circles around us and starts filling in Brainbox’s grave, clearly hurrying things along.
    Kath continues, “If your girls have been taken, they’ll be at the museum.”
    Me: “What museum?”
    Kath: “The one with the dinosaurs. That’s where the slave market is.”
    Jefferson: “The Museum of Natural History. On Central Park West. That’s, like, half a mile from here.”
    Kath: “They take them there to make them into Fun Girls.” Off my look, she explains, “Slaves. There’s these creepy West Side religious nuts who do it. They keep them there for a while, break them down. Then they sell them.”
    Me: “Then that’s where I’m going.”
    Wakefield comes over, seeing that the memorial service is busting up.
    Wakefield: “It’s time to get going. We should hit Grand Central in an hour.”
    Titch looks back at Wakefield but leaves me to explain.
    Me: “Change in plans, Colonel. We’ve got to rescue some of our friends first.”
    Wakefield: “Those aren’t my orders.”
    Me: “
I
don’t have any orders.”
    Wakefield: “You are under my protection.”
    Me: “I don’t need your protection.”
    Wakefield: “You are under my
supervision
.”
    Me: “We could use more hands if we’re going to fight the Uptowners.”
    Wakefield: “I don’t think you’re qualified to speak on military issues.”
    Which I guess
technically
is correct? But practically? We sort of
do
know what we’re talking about. Which is to say, we’ve slugged our way through two years of chaos here, against everything the place could throw at us—cannibals, fascists, even tweens.
    Me: “I’m sorry, but my decision stands. You can help, or wait here for me, or go do your thing.”
    Titch: “That wasn’t the plan, miss.”
    Me: “So? You’ve been here, what, half a day? You think any kind of plan
lasts
here? This place has its own rules. So I’m making my own plans from now on. I know that you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. That’s okay. You don’t have to watch my back anymore, Titch.” I turn to Kath and Peter and Jefferson. “You want to come along, that’s up to