If I had been 100 percent, I’d have flung him over my shoulder by now and kicked him where it hurts the most. Since I had just died and come back, my reflexes were nowhere and my brain was going, uh…
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Cassie said, taking aim.
“You can shoot,” Kirt sneered, “but you can’t guarantee that you won’t hit her.” He swung me from side to side, moving his head, making Cassie hit a moving target.
Which of course was second nature to her. The tip of her gun followed his movements and I could almost feel her waiting for the moment between breaths when you pull a trigger.
Cassie caught my eye. It was as though I heard her voice inside my head, and I did what she wanted. On the silent count of three I slumped, a dead weight in Kirt’s arms.
Cassie shot, and Kirt’s knife didn’t even have time to cut me as he dropped like a pile of cow manure. I staggered, Cassie ran over and grabbed my hand, and we tore out of there. But not before I’d seen that Cassie had nailed Kirt cleanly through one eye. That bastard.
When we raced into the President’s bedroom, we found him sitting calmly in a chair, while Strepp pressed her gun against his temple.
122
“GO AHEAD, SHOOT,” THE PRESIDENT said. “And you’ll live in ignorance and prison for the rest of your pathetic lives.”
“Look outside,” Nate said. “You’ll see a distinct lack of people capable of putting us in prison.”
The four of us had surrounded the President and Strepp, covering them from all angles. Now the President’s eyes slanted toward the windows, where the sounds of gunfire, alarms, and shouting rose from the streets below.
“Your time is over,” Strepp hissed. “You’re the past! We’re the future.”
“You,” the President said, looking at me. “I should have let Kirt kill you when he wanted to.”
“Gee, thanks for reining him in,” I said drily, sighting him down my barrel. “But don’t worry—he won’t be hurting any more housemaids for… ever.” Just the memory of Kirt brought bile into my throat. I thought of him lying dead a few rooms away, a neat hole through one eye, and all I felt was relief.
“Get up,” Strepp told him coldly. “We’re taking a walk.”
Just then the door flung open and several kid-soldiers bustled in, pushing Mia ahead of them. Her hands were cuffed behind her.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Mia cried. “Kirt is dead!”
For the very first time, I saw the President show emotion. “My son is dead?”
“Yeah. And your daughter is in handcuffs. Not that that matters,” Mia said.
“You killed my son!” the President screamed at Strepp, and lunged toward her. Tim whacked the back of his knees with a billy club and the President fell to the ground.
“No. I killed your asshole son,” Cassie said, keeping her aim on him. “So don’t push me.”
“Becca,” Mia said to me. “I knew you were different. Is this a revolution?” She looked excited rather than afraid.
“Yes,” said Strepp.
“Oh,” Mia said. “What now?”
“I’ve been thinking about that a long time,” Strepp said. “I’ve got some ideas.”
“I bet,” the President sneered. “You worthless, stupid piece of—ow!” He was interrupted by Nate swinging his gun, butt-first, and smacking the President in the head.
“The tables have turned, Ron,” Strepp said calmly. “You’re not in charge anymore. Now, take me to the Thousand-Eye Room.”
123
“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT you’re talking about,” the President said.
“Becca, there’s a Taser in the nightstand,” Strepp said.