FREE SAMPLE (Ch.1)

I killed my uncle.

The world froze while I struggled to swallow that fact. The conference room was utterly silent. Jael, the only other person in the room, stood as still as a mannequin as she stared at the dark projector. There was no ticking of clocks, no whirring of vents; even the factory on the floors beneath us had grown quiet. Outside the windows, the city of Beijing seemed motionless, like it was merely a picture in a frame.

I stared at the laptop on the table in front of me. The livestream had long since shut off, but I could still see the horrid images reflected on the black screen. Police surrounding our outpost in Boston, the blue-red lights glaring off the windows. Stanyard, my boyfriend, being dragged from the building in handcuffs. Guards beating Lev, one of my Jewish followers, and tossing him into the back of a van.

And my uncle, lying dead on the sidewalk.

Time abruptly restarted, off-kilter and out of focus. Why is this happening? Reality lay shattered in front of me like a broken mirror. I tried to shift through the pieces, struggling to see any meaning in the tragedy, but the only truth I could find was that this was all my fault.

I forced myself to rehearse the events. I was—am—Philadelphia Smyrna, known to the world as Blue Fire, the figurehead of a revolution. My rebellion had been an accident; I’d only wanted to destroy Red Rain, the chemical superweapon my father had created, and keep it out of the hands of the government. With help from my mentor Nic, I’d burned their factory to the ground. A video of my act of defiance had leaked onto the internet, and Jael, a powerful tech mogul with control over the algorithm, had used my name to build a revolution.

I looked up at her where she stood across the table. The bangles on her wrists rattled as she agitatedly tapped her thigh. Jael was the true leader of the resistance. She’d been working anonymously in the background for months, manipulating the algorithm to push my content past the censors. She’d targeted the unassimilated, the oppressed, the discontent—anyone who was tired of submitting to a government that allowed no religion, no national borders, no individuality whatsoever.

And the people had responded.

In mere months, revolution had gone from fiction to impending reality. Millions of people all over the globe had pledged their allegiance to the “thunderbird.” In Beijing, I was a household name; even some legions of the Chinese military had vowed to defect. I was both a celebrity and a public enemy, and in a few weeks, Jael and I would use that influence to end the United.

On September 17th, Operation Blue Fire would launch. At my signal, everyone who followed the thunderbird would fight the system. They would walk out of school, quit their government jobs, abandon their military outposts. Guards would destroy weapons, secretaries would burn files, and teenagers would post Bibles and other illegal documents on social media. On September 17th, the people would say no—together.

“If we all stand up together, they can’t make us all sit down,” my former ally Jayde would have said.

It was working. The world was in an uproar, and the government was losing control. Even Asia, my nemesis in the Council, couldn’t deter my followers, no matter how high she raised the bounty on my life. All the tides were turning in our favor, to the point where I believed—no, knew—that God had to be behind it all.

I’d believed it. Until this morning.

“I have a message for all United citizens…”

I turned towards the back wall of the conference room, where the projector had generated a 3D rendering of the news. On live TV, Asia had raided my headquarters in Boston, where all my important American allies were hiding. I was forced to watch, unable to do anything but scream his name, as they hurled Stanyard into the back of a van. They arrested everyone—except my uncle.

“Be advised that associating with Smyrna will be considered an act of terrorism…”

My uncle was military. That meant he was worse than a rebel; he was a traitor. And the government had no mercy for traitors.

“And the punishment for terrorism…”

My emotions exploded in raw, unprocessed tears. I covered my face and sobbed, the only penance I could give for the uncle I’d barely known. Uncle Bart—or “Tower,” as I’d called him—was the only extended family I had left. Now he was gone. Just like Mom, Nic, and my father. Just like everyone else who was dead or in prison or had their memories wiped because of me.

“Oh Philadelphia, don’t you know it’s too late to go home?”

“Philadelphia…” Jael’s steady voice tried and failed to reach me through the waves of panicked thoughts.

“I killed him!” I shouted. Not out of accusation, but as a declaration—hinging on the desperate belief that if I confessed my sins, maybe, just maybe, the pain would go away.

“These things happen in war,” she deferred, the answer practiced, thoughtless.

“In the war I started!” Jael may be controlling the algorithm, but I was the one who had endangered these people’s lives by antagonizing Asia. I thought God had called me to some glorious purpose in China, and I’d tried to make it happen on my own terms, ignoring Nic’s and Stanyard’s advice time and again. I’d deluded myself into thinking I could save a planet when I should have just shut up and gone home months ago.

“God didn’t choose you for anything, Phil.”

I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, trying to shove the tears back in. “You were right. I should have gone back to Boston. This is all my fault—”

“Enough!”

I jumped. Jael was shouting—and she sounded very, very upset.

Her heels clicked and her giant earrings swayed as she strode towards me, making her look like twice the woman. “I will not tolerate that attitude from you.”

I instinctively scooted my chair back. “What—”

She cut me off with a slash of her finger. “You did nothing to cause this.”

Nothing? I did everything. “But I—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” she snapped, then sighed. She leaned her knuckles on the table. “Philadelphia.” Her voice softened, if only marginally. “You need to stop this. You cannot keep blaming yourself.”

Who else is there to blame?

The question must have made it onto my face, because Jael arched her eyebrow. “Did you not just tell me that I’m in charge?”

I nodded. I had, in fact, said that, a mere twenty minutes ago—right before Asia came on the news.

“And did you not say that you trust my judgment?”

That’s exactly what I’d said. I recalled the oath of allegiance I’d sworn as I’d submitted to Jael’s authority and put “Blue Fire” in her hands.

“If you tell me I’m done, I’m done. You have my word that I will not go behind your back, and I will not try to undermine you. I trust your judgment, so whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do it.”

I was not in control. After weeks of fighting and trying to protect my reputation, I’d surrendered. God had given Jael authority in my life, and I trusted her. I still did.

Jael let the silence grow pregnant before she continued. “I told you when we met that I wanted you to fight a war, not lead one. You were only following orders. I’m the one who gave those orders, which means the blame is mine.”

She stood back from the table. “I’m the one who put you on air. I’m the one who let you visit that group home. I’m the one who didn’t set up more safeguards for our friends in Boston.” Her eyes glimmered with shame. “I am the leader of this operation. This situation is entirely my responsibility—not yours.”

My stomach twisted, but I held back the words and waited.

Jael let out her breath, releasing a thousand regrets with it. “It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to have questions. You can be mad at everyone, including me. But you cannot—you will not—blame yourself.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. I looked up into her face as she came to stand beside me and gripped the back of my chair. “Blaming yourself is a childish luxury you don’t have anymore. You work for me now, and your only job is to listen and obey. And I’m giving you new orders.”

I straightened. She tipped her chin back and announced, gently and deliberately, “Your orders are to trust. Be honest. And do not give place to guilt.”

I struggled to repeat the words as they ricocheted around in my chest.

Trust. Be honest. And do not give place to guilt.

Jael almost smiled. “Do you understand, soldier?”

I nodded reflectively, but I didn’t understand, not at all. I stared at her, wishing her words would put a period on my anxiety. They didn’t put a period on anything. Instead, my pulse raced faster and my guilt screamed louder as it swirled with nothing to land on. But what’s going to happen to Stanyard? What about Lev? They’ll kill him when they find out he’s Jewish! What am I going to do—

I stopped when I realized that wasn’t the question I should be asking. I had no idea what was going to happen, and I absolutely didn’t trust myself. But there was one thing I was confident of.

You are not in charge anymore.

I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose. Then I looked up at Jael and whispered, “What do you want me to do now?”

She drummed her acrylic nails on the back of my chair. “I don’t know,” she said slowly, her thick Hausa accent filling the gaps between words. “Right now, my first concern is getting you out of this building. Too many people know you’re here.”

As if in answer, the conference door whooshed open. Lanzhou Tang rushed in, his cousin Bowen a step behind him. The Tangs owned the factory and were old friends of Nic’s parents, the Von Nieuwenhuyses. Mr. Von had granted Lanzhou’s father an exclusive contract to produce a patented part for space stations, and the Tangs had profited handsomely. They’d used that wealth to buy security for the underground church that met in their cafeteria—and for me. For the past month, I’d been living in their home and using Bowen’s many connections to build the revolution in Beijing.

I shakily stood up as they approached. If anyone was in danger for assisting me, it was the Tangs. Even though I wore a disguise when out in public, using wigs and colored contacts to switch between my multiple identities, thousands of people had seen me at the Tangs’ nightly prayer services. If any one of those people calls the police…

“Lanzhou,” I started, my voice croaking with fear, “I’m so sorry. I—”

He wasn’t listening. He bypassed propriety and gave me what I needed most: a hug. He pulled me to himself and gripped my shoulders with his strong hands—just like my father would have, if he were here.

I accepted the mercy and sniffled into his shoulder, feeling love and forgiveness radiating from his posture. It was no wonder he was a pastor.

“We saw the news. What happened?” he asked, directing the question over my head at Jael.

“I put her on air to stall Asia,” she said, snatching the blame before I could even think about claiming any of it. “I was hoping to distract them while I found out where they’re holding these executions.”

I flinched when I remembered the dozens of people who were scheduled to die this afternoon if we didn’t intervene. My friends in Boston weren’t the only people Asia was holding hostage; she’d also raided one of the underground hospitals I’d visited in Beijing. She’d arrested all the residents—most of whom were disabled or terminally ill—and ordered their public executions.

Their crime? Associating with the thunderbird.

I pulled back from Lanzhou and turned to Jael. “Can you do anything?”

Her face held neither hope nor despair. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Let me call my contact at the police station, see what he knows,” Bowen offered, barely suppressing the shake in his voice.

Jael nodded curtly. “Get on it. Your job,” she pointed at Lanzhou, “is to get her out of sight until I can sort this out. I want her off the premises. Too many people have seen her at this factory.”

Lanzhou started to answer, but Bowen spoke first. “With all due respect, I think we should put her back on air.”

“What?” Lanzhou snapped.

“I think she should go back on air,” Bowen repeated, eyes on me, “and expose Asia.”

That was the last thing I should do. “Didn’t you see what just happened?” I pointed at the dark projector. “I’m only making it worse. She just shot someone because of me.”

“And she’s going to do it again if you don’t stop her,” Bowen whispered.

My throat dried.

Lanzhou put himself between us. “Absolutely not. We are not putting her on air. She’s going off the grid until this calms down.”

“This isn’t going to ‘calm down,’ and you know that.” The tremor left Bowen’s voice as he met his cousin’s gaze. “Are we going to stay quiet while Mong murders another dozen people? Phil needs to go on there and demand an explanation for these executions.”

“Jael will handle it,” Lanzhou returned with a confidence I wished I felt. “But I am not putting Philadelphia through that. Not now.”

“He’s right,” Jael cut in. “Asia is expecting us to retaliate. She wants more conflict. I’m not going to give it to her.”

“And in the meantime, she’s out there burning Phil at the stake. Have you looked at social media?” Bowen spun to face Jael. “The internet is eating her alive. There’s rumors that the operation is a hoax, and I’ve already heard of several people who are bailing. If we don’t fix this now, the entire operation will collapse.”

I sucked in my breath. That’s just what Asia wanted: for the revolution to crumble, and all the blame to fall on Blue Fire.

“We’ll do damage control later,” Jael said with a sharp glance at me.

“No, we need to strike now, before Asia writes the narrative. We have to fight fire with fire.” He turned back to me, as if I had any authority.

Lanzhou blocked his view. “Enough—”

The trill of my tablet cut him off.

I looked at the device where it lay on the table. All three of us stopped and stared as it rang once, twice, three times, then silenced.

Jael moved towards it. “Who…?”

I had no idea. I’d borrowed that tablet from the Tangs, and very few people knew how to contact me on it. Most of those people were now in prison.

I thought of Stanyard’s constant messages and winced. Stanyard had always been there for me, texting even when I didn’t want to text back and answering the minute I called. Now, for the first time ever, I’d be the one staring at a blank screen as my messages sat unread.

Tears stung my vision, but I blinked them away. Later, I coached myself.

I stepped forward and picked up the device. I swiped on the screen and read the notification—and my heart failed.

It was a friend request from a user I’d never seen before, followed by a simple, cruel message:

HELLO SWEETIE. IT’S ASIA. READY TO TALK?