“Hands to yourselves,” Hayden tells the reachers. “It might look like they walked on water, but the reflecting pool’s only a foot deep.”

There’s a speaker at a podium toward the top of the Capitol steps calling for justice, fairness, transparency, and all the other things people demand but rarely get from their government. Risa hears his words being broadcast throughout the rally by audio systems that seem to have sprung up spontaneously. The speaker, Risa realizes, is none other than rock star Brick McDaniel—and there are more celebrities in line to speak.

“When I called for this,” says Hayden, “I wasn’t even sure anyone was listening.”

At the base of the Capitol steps, a line of riot police blocks the way, and the crowd taunts them, daring them to attack. Risa feels like she’s just stepped into a mousetrap that’s about to spring. Doesn’t Hayden see that? How can he be so enthusiastic?

“I haven’t seen a single Juvie,” Connor notes. Risa looks around to realize he’s right. There’s the riot police, street cops, heavily armed military boeufs in camo, even special service, but no Juvies.

“The word is Herman What’s-His-Face—that lying tool who ran the Juvenile Authority—is out,” Hayden tells them.

“Sharply was fired?” says Connor.

“Had his nuts handed to him, is more like it.”

“He was Proactive Citizenry’s favorite puppet.” Risa says.

Hayden offers up his famous grin. “I thought I’d get arrested the moment I showed up, but the powers that be are all scrambling like AWOLs. No telling where they’re going to land, but I hope they all splat like tomatoes.”

As they reach the line of riot police, Hayden says, “Open sesame,” and they actually let him pass, but close their ranks again and grip their weapons before Connor and Risa can get through.

“Uh, excuse me,” Hayden says. “Can’t you see who they are?”

One of the guards looks at Connor, then at Risa, and the moment he recognizes them, he pulls his gun from its holster. She doesn’t know if it’s loaded with tranqs or real bullets, but it doesn’t matter. If he shoots them, the crowd will attack, and it will be a bloodbath. So she looks into the officer’s angry eyes.

“Are you willing to be the man who starts the war?” she asks. “Or do you want to be the man who prevents it?”

Although the anger never leaves his face, it’s caressed by a little humanity, and maybe a little bit of fear. He holds his position for a moment more, then steps aside to let them pass.

Climbing the Capitol steps is clearly difficult for Connor. He grimaces with every step, and Risa helps him as much as she can. When Brick McDaniel sees them approaching, he stops speaking midsentence and yields the microphone, a little bit awed. The entire crowd from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial falls silent in anticipation.

Risa stops a few steps short of the podium, hanging back with Hayden. “It’s you they need to hear from,” she tells Connor. “I’ve already been in the media spotlight. Now it’s your turn.”

“I can’t do this alone,” he says.

Risa smiles. “Does it look like you’re alone?”

81 • Connor

Gripping the letter in his hand to the point of crumpling it, Connor approaches the podium, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. He’s never seen so many people in his life. He leans forward into the microphone.

“Hi . . . I’m Connor Lassiter.”

His voice booms out over the crowd, and the collective cheer it brings forth nearly knocks him off his feet. It’s a roar that echoes back from the Capitol behind him. It even seems to sway the trees. He imagines it surging forth along the Potomac, out into Chesapeake Bay, and across the Atlantic, where it can be heard around the world. And then he realizes it will be! Everything that happens here today will be seen and heard everywhere!

“I’m here to tell you that I’m alive. And so is Risa Ward.” He pauses for more cheers, once more waiting for the crowd to settle before he says, “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

He looks down to the letter in his hands, then realizes he doesn’t have to. He’s read it so many times since Aragon gave it to him, he’s memorized it. He had to—it was the only way he could convince himself it was real.

“I’m happy to announce that the president has just vetoed the Parental Override bill.”

This time the cheer begins tentatively, but rises to a fever pitch. He doesn’t wait for them to quiet down to continue. “And there’s more. The president is also calling on the legislature to place a moratorium on unwinding. And to shutter the Chop Shops of all harvest camps until every voice is heard!” He feels his own voice gathering strength from the crowd, gathering strength from deep within himself. “And we will stand here!” Connor yells. “In front of the Capitol! Until! They! Are!”

The roar from the crowd is an earthquake rumbling up the steps. He can feel it vibrating in his feet, shaking the foundations of the great domed building behind him. He doesn’t know if this is what Aragon wanted, but it’s what Connor wants: the galvanizing of millions—not to wage acts of violence or revenge, but to hold their ground against the institutionalized murder that has defined a generation.

“Stand with me!” Connor commands. “And I swear to you EVERYTHING WILL CHANGE!”

Up above, the news helicopters circle, and down below, media crews broadcast his message into every home, every workplace, every newsfeed. And he knows for each soul here today, there are a thousand more that at this very moment are rising up to join them. Not a teen uprising as Hayden thought this would be, but the awakening of a nation from its darkest nightmare.

Then, amid the tumult of the crowd, Connor hears his name called. Not just by some random person, but by a familiar voice. A little deeper perhaps, a little older than he remembers, but a voice he can never forget. He looks down to the front of the crowd and sees a boy emerging. A boy almost as tall as him.

“Lucas?”

And behind him, Connor sees them. His mother. His father. Fighting their way forward in the crowd. They came to the rally. They didn’t even know he’d be here, but they still came!

That’s when people begin to recognize them. They realize that these are the people who signed the order to unwind the Akron AWOL.

And the crowd begins to turn.

“They’re unwinders!” the mob yells. “Unwind the unwinders!”

As high as spirits were an instant ago, the energy flips into fury, and his parents are attacked.

“No!”

Connor bolts down the Capitol steps, ignoring the pain in his joints. The crowd around his parents has gone mad! He can’t even see them anymore—they’ve been taken down in a lethal screaming scrum.

“Stop!”

But they can’t hear him over their own rage.

The riot police move toward the crowd wielding their weapons. Connor breaks through their ranks and gets to the rioting mob first.

“Connor, stop them!” begs Lucas.

Connor runs past him and hurls himself into the tangle of bodies, pushing people away. When they see him, they back off one by one, until he’s at the epicenter of the attack, and he finds them.

His parents lie on the ground, their clothes torn, their faces and bodies bloody.

But they’re alive! They’re still alive.

Connor grabs his mother and helps her to her feet. He reaches out to his father, who takes his hand and rises. The two of them look like refugees. Desperate. Alone against a force that outnumbers them. They look like AWOLs.

Around them the crowd still seethes, and the riot police are on the verge of attack. The powder keg is about to blow, and who knows how bad it will be once it does? Everything hinges on this moment.

Connor knows what he must do to defuse this. He knows what the crowd needs to see.