Blood Zero Sky by J. Gates Page A

are you?” I ask.
    “We are not the Godless anarchists the Company would have you believe. We are a secret order, a fourth branch of the United States government, started by the founding fathers of this country.”
    “Fourth branch of government?” I say. Bewildered, dizzy, terrified, I can hardly remember the first three. That stuff is ancient history.
    “Ethan,” says McCann, blinking at the crackle of distant gunfire and brandishing a huge white machine gun I somehow never noticed before.
    “Our order was started for one purpose and one purpose alone, May. In the event that the people of America should lose their democracy at the hands of a tyrant—”
    “Let’s go . . .” Clair says, appearing from a shadow-strewn corner.
    “If the army, the CIA, the militias should all fail—”
    “Ethan . . .”
    “—we are charged with leading the revolution.”
    “They’re here!” McCann shouts.
    There’s a flat crack and a puff of dust from the stairwell. McCann, Clair, and two other men I hadn’t noticed before, all wielding huge white guns, take aim at the open doorway.
    “I’m taking her!” Ethan shouts. “Cover the rear!”
    He pulls me to my feet, holding me up, and we flee.
    Though I will later learn I have a concussion and three broken ribs, though it feels like every joint in my body is sprained, somehow I run.
    Through a long, long tunnel with white-tiled walls, Ethan leads me by the arm. A timid flashlight beam blazes our trail, augmented after a moment by the flash of gunfire from behind us. I wince, slow, look back, but Ethan drags me on.
    As we pass a cross tunnel, I fall. Pain shoots through me. Sprawled on the ground, I look to my left. Three squadmen, all in black, are coming toward us. They train their guns on me.
    My eyes squeeze shut.
    Then the reports, the million echoes of gunshots, deafening, terrifying. They must’ve gotten me. I must be dead. They were too close to miss.
    When my eyes open, Ethan is standing in front of me, the barrel of his gun smoking. Looking down the tunnel between his widely set legs, I can see the bodies of three squadmen sprawled on the concrete floor.
    And I’m alive.
    Ethan pulls me to my feet.
    “Come on,” he says.
    “You—you just saved my life!” I stammer, stating the obvious.
    “Don’t fall again,” he replies.
    As we run, he pulls the knife from his belt.
    “Choose.”
    “Choose what?” I wheeze.
    “Who are you going to give your allegiance to? The Company—or the ones who will destroy it?”
    I almost laugh. “Destroy the Companies? Why? They give people everything they have.”
    “They give people what they want them to have, and in exchange, they ask for everything.”
    Still running, our path is riddled with sundry debris: a bundle of clothing, an old beer bottle, a basket of some kind, a discarded doll. My head is pounding. My ribs feel like there’s a red-hot poker jabbing them with each step.
    “Nobody’s forced to work for N-Corp,” I say. “They don’t like the Company, they can leave.”
    “There’s a lot you don’t know, May,” he says. “Take the knife.”
    I take it. He grabs my arm, pulls me to a halt. We both crouch on our haunches, our backs against opposite walls, eyes locked, breathing hard in ragged unison.
    A moment passes.
    Gunshots, which we both ignore.
    Looking at the knife in my hand, I say, “I could kill you now.”
    He smiles, “No you couldn’t.”
    “Why do you trust me?”
    “I don’t. I don’t trust anyone. But you could help us.”
    “Why would I?”
    His eyes smile at me through the half-light. “Because I’ve seen you in the shopping plaza, May. You’re different. ”
    I don’t have to ask; I know what he means. The pants.
    “You really think you have a future at the Company, May? Your father won’t be around forever.”
    So he doesn’t think I could make it without my daddy’s help? I look at the knife clenched in my fist and think of stabbing him after all. Except deep down,