8. Echo
ECHO
I pulled through the Cannon compound gates, honking at the younger kids, who belonged to full-time staff, on the playground. What took my great-grandfather almost a decade to achieve had been handed to me much too early, but I took pride in keeping everyone who lived within the compound safe.
Thirty-one acres of safety, to be exact.
The winding road cut through the manicured grounds and identical homes in build, but worlds apart in style.
I had every inch of this place mapped, monitored, and memorized since taking over.
The compound wasn’t just land, it was one of the few places in Everwood where rejectors could breathe without looking over their shoulders.
Twenty homes dotted the landscape, arranged in a loose semicircle that swirled into another and opened toward the back of the property. From the air, it probably looked like two horseshoes.
At the center stood the community building, a two-story structure with floor-to-ceiling windows and a deck that wrapped around three sides. Family meetings, holiday gatherings, and whatever else we felt the need to use it for all happened there.
I slowed as I passed my grandmother’s house, debating if I should stop by and hear her mouth or wait until after the exchange tonight.
She lived in the oldest home on the property, ranch-style with a wide porch and rocking chairs that never seemed to stop moving.
Even now, it looked as if someone had just gotten up from one.
She shared it with my aunt Velma, who had no clue how to mind her business.
My grandma had turned eighty-five while I was away, but still had a little youth she was holding on to. And my aunt was her self-appointed spokesperson and snooper.
I kept driving, though, passing the house my uncle Arland shared with his wife and two teenage sons.
I could see movement behind one of the upstairs windows, probably the youngest, who had a habit of watching the compound through binoculars. He was a smart kid, but paranoid about everything and everyone.
Solei’s place came into view, and Oliver’s sat across from hers; they lived alone but rarely slept at the compound like me.
The three of us spent most of our time in our apartments scattered across town, preferring to be in the mix more than not.
The security center stood at the far end of the first curve, a utilitarian building with reinforced walls and a communications tower disguised as a chimney—no windows on the ground floor and narrow ones on the second.
The place looked like what it was, a bunker masquerading as a house.
At least twelve people worked there at any given time, monitoring everything from the compound’s perimeter to what was happening in the surrounding neighborhoods.
It was because of them that I caught wind of the car, Forever had been driving, circling the compound multiple times the first night we spoke. The one way she’d be able to infiltrate is if I let her, and part of me wanted to witness what exactly she would do if I did.
Two identical houses flanked the security center, home to our full-time staff and their families. These were the people who kept the compound running and safe, people who chose freedom over submission when it’d been their time to choose their fate.
I parked but didn’t immediately get out, taking a minute to close my eyes and breathe.
This place had been my playground as a child and now my responsibility as an adult.
It represented generations of Cannons who refused to bow, who carved out this patch of independence through blood and sacrifice.
My father had died trying to tear it and us apart for more power, while my mother had left to protect it.
Bringing her back, dead or alive, was weighing on me.
After a minute to myself, I stepped out of the car and entered the security house after keying in my unique code.
Two guards were at the entrance and straightened as I approached. I gave both a nod and pushed through the reinforced door, into a room full of surveillance monitors. Every inch of the compound, inside and out, was covered.
Joel, our head of security here, spotted me immediately and crossed the room. He was a former marine, who’d only enlisted to get away from the Collective after rejecting.
“Mr. Cannon,” he greeted, waiting expectantly for why I’d come.
He never engaged in small talk and was all business, no matter who stood in front of him. That’s what I liked.
“Did my uncle pass down the order?” I asked.
Joel nodded and gestured toward a central monitor that displayed a digital map of the compound. “Full lockdown protocol initiated thirty minutes ago. We’ve doubled the perimeter guards, activated the secondary sensor grid, and recalled all off-duty personnel.”
I studied the screen, noting the blinking dots that represented our security team positions.
“Everyone’s been notified. Your sister is running weapons checks on the east perimeter. Mr. Oliver hasn’t returned yet.” His eyes flicked to mine. “Your grandmother insisted on maintaining her evening walk, by the way. She had a fall while you were away, and I assigned two guards to shadow her.”
Nothing would stop the old lady from her walk but bad weather.
“Show me the adjustments to the night protocols,” I said, moving deeper into the room.
He pulled up another screen and displayed the rotation schedule and entry protocols.
“We’ve eliminated all standard entry codes.
Everyone enters through checkpoint alpha only, with biometric confirmation and visual verification.
” He pointed to a series of red markers on the compound’s border.
“Trip wires every fifteen yards, motion sensors overlapping at thirty-yard intervals, and thermal imaging covering all blind spots.”
I nodded, examining the security web they’d created.
“The staff housing?”
“Secure. Families have been advised to stay indoors after dark. The underage kids will continue their homeschooling as scheduled.”
The measures were thorough, exactly what I’d expect from Joel and his team. I glanced around the room at the operators monitoring their stations.
“What about the subterranean sensors?” I asked, thinking of the network of tunnels that ran beneath parts of the property, escape routes built by my grandfather decades ago.
“Upgraded last month,” Joel replied without pause. “New pressure plates and sound detection. Nothing larger than a rat moves down there without us knowing.”
“Good. Keep me updated, no matter how small.”
He nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
I left to do a grounds check, but the goal was short-lived.
“Demetrius Cannon!”
I turned at the sound of my aunt’s voice.
Velma Cannon stood on the path from my grandmother’s house, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders despite the mild temperature.
“Auntie,” I said, stopping to let her catch up.
She reached me, slightly out of breath, and placed a hand on my arm.
“You didn’t come say hello when you arrived.”
I frowned.
When did I ever?
“I had security matters to attend to.”
“Always business first with you.” She sighed and regarded me closely. “You look tired, baby. Have you been sleeping?”
Aunt Velma was the only person who could get away with calling me baby so openly.
“I’m fine,” I told her, ready for this conversation to be over.
“Are you?” She tightened her grip on my arm. “Arland told us what you’re planning. Going after the Collective… it’s dangerous, Demetrius. Your mother wouldn’t want—”
“My mother isn’t here to have an opinion,” I cut in. “This is bigger than her anyway.”
Her eyes widened, and I immediately regretted my tone. My aunt had lost a friend when my mother took off, only leaving behind a pre-recorded video telling us not to follow.
The grief wasn’t mine alone.
“I’m sorry,” I said, softening my voice. “But I gotta do this.”
She shook her head.
“This vendetta… it could cost us everything she sacrificed to protect.”
“It’s not a vendetta. It’s about respect, and they have none.” I stepped back, putting distance between us. “And I’m not asking for permission.”
She must’ve recognized the finality in my tone, because the conversation took an abrupt shift.
“Your grandmother wants to see you,” she said. “She’s waiting in her study.”
I nodded, already turning toward the house. Whatever my grandmother wanted to discuss, it wouldn’t change my course. But I owed her the courtesy of listening.
“Demetrius,” my aunt called after me. “Just remember, this family has already lost too much. Be careful, we can’t lose you, too.”
There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like a lie or a promise I couldn’t keep.
No matter how careful, they had more power and resources.
I kept it moving without responding.
The familiar scent of Lavender hit me as soon as I stepped through the door, calming me a little.
I found her in the study, a small room lined with shelves that held five generations of Cannon family history in leather-bound volumes and carefully preserved photographs.
She sat in her high-backed chair by the window, hands folded in her lap, while she watched the kids play out in the street.
“Seven months without a visit,” she started, cutting her eyes at me. “That’s a long time for an old woman to wait, Meechie.”
I crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek. “I had things to take care of.”
She studied me with keen, knowing eyes.
“How did you celebrate your birthday?” I asked, changing my tune.
A small smile softened her expression.
“Velma made too much fuss. The whole family gathered here. Oliver brought fireworks, which nearly gave your uncle a heart attack, but the kids loved it.”
She lifted her wrist, and the light caught the silver charm bracelet I’d sent.
“This was the best gift, though.”
I reached out to touch it. Each pendant held the initials and birthdates of all her grandchildren.
There were only five of us.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s beautiful.” She twisted it on her wrist, then looked up. “I’m concerned for you.”