The Burning World (Warm Bodies #2)(93)

“What the hell’s in Pittsburgh?”

Abram watches the first rays of the sun creep toward him along the dash. “What was it you said when you first talked me into flying this plane? Something about utopian enclaves and rebel armies? Well I definitely can’t promise the first thing, but maybe the second.”

There’s a subtle fluctuation in Julie’s skeptical stare. “There’s a rebel army in Pittsburgh?”

“I know there was a year ago.”

Julie puts the gun back in her lap. “I’m listening.”

“Pittsburgh was my first placement after they found me in the woods. It’s where I was trained, it’s basically my hometown. I hopped around a lot in my twenties but when Mura was born I decided—” He shakes his head. “Point being, Branch 2 is where I first heard that Axiom was losing its mind. There were some Management guys who’d had some contact with Executive—indirect contact, of course; I’ve never known anyone who’s actually talked to Atvist . . .”

Nausea jolts through my guts and I suddenly want to be somewhere else. Maybe a bathroom. I close my eyes and take slow breaths.

“. . . but they got close enough to see that something was very wrong at the top, if there even was a top anymore.”

“Rosy—” Julie starts, then stops herself. “General Rosso, the stadium’s leader, said Axiom was wiped out years ago.”

Abram opens his mouth to respond but someone else talks over him, an unexpected third voice blurting, “Seven years ago. Leadership killed, headquarters destroyed, everything buried in the quake. But he said not to stop.”

Abram and Julie are both staring at me.

“What is wrong with him, exactly?” Abram asks her. “Was he a radiation baby?”

“Rosy said all that to you?” Julie asks, bewildered.

I blink a few times.

“Anyway,” Abram sighs, “yes, we took a big hit in New York. The branches lost contact with Executive and for a while no one knew what was going on or if we were even still a company. But after a couple years, orders started trickling in again, reports that Executive had survived, Branch 1 was rebuilding, and everything was fine. And for a while, we believed it.”

Julie glances behind her and startles. Nora is leaning in the cockpit entryway, arms folded, listening. A wrinkled yellow pamphlet dangles between her fingers. “Don’t mind me,” she says.

Abram returns his attention to Julie. “But by the time I left to work on the west coast campaign, there were rumblings. Secret meetings. I’d say at least half of the branch was ready to do something.”

“Like what?” Julie says.

“Take down Executive. Maybe break up the whole company into local governments. They hadn’t worked out the details.”

“Half of one branch against a nation-scale militia network? How was that supposed to work?”

“Other branches were in on it. Call it a revolution if that tickles your teenage drama bone.”

Julie’s eyes narrow. “First of all, I’m not a teenager . . .”

“Oh that’s right, you had a birthday. Everything’s different now.”

“. . . second of all, since when are you a rebel, Abram Kelvin?” Her eyes narrow. “Since when do you fight for anything but your own little homestead?”

Abram keeps his face neutral.

“We’ve been flying all over the country looking for a way forward, and you’ve done nothing but run backward every chance you get. Now you’re suddenly ‘viva revolution’? You’ve suddenly got a big insurgency lined up for us that you never bothered to mention?”

The faint, weary smirk never leaves Abram’s face, but it looks a little forced now. “Walking into an Axiom branch when we’re all on their wanted list wasn’t my first choice. If the coup hasn’t happened yet, it’s going to be tough to reach my contacts. And yeah, I’d rather be fishing in the mountains with my daughter than trying to save the world with a bunch of delusional children. But if it’s this or a one-way trip to a frozen rock in the ocean, I’ll take the revolution.”

Julie shakes her head. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m really not.”

“There’s nothing in Pittsburgh. You’re just trying to get us on the ground so you can make your break.”

Abram nods. “Fair call, but it’s wrong. Lying’s not my thing.”

Julie chuckles. “Oh really!”

“One of my father’s lessons that stuck: lying to someone gives them power. Makes them the judge and you the defendant. Tell the truth and deal with the results. Lying’s for pussies.”

Julie laughs. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Actually,” Nora says, “he might not be.” She straightens the yellow pamphlet and hands it to Julie.

Julie scans the page of chicken-scratch handwriting and doodled marginalia, like a medieval manuscript illuminated by drunk monks. She looks up at Nora in amazement. “Where’d you find this?”

“In the airport, of course, a thousand miles from anyone. I think DBC might be a little OCD.”

“Why didn’t you show me earlier?”

Nora gives her a dry stare. “You’d just shot a guy in front of his daughter. It seemed like a bad time.”