Fear My Mortality (27 page)

“Yes, I can! Just … ” He started to swear, kicking and thrashing against the restraints, hurting himself in his efforts to pull his hands free.

“Michael!” I gasped.

“If I have to cut myself to pieces to get to you, Ava, I will.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes wild and dark.

A crazy laugh gushed out of me. “No. Don’t.” I used the knife to snap the leather around his broken hand.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said, taking the weapon and driving it through the other restraint. “Are you hurt?”

I patted the back of my head and rubbed my wrist. “I’m sore. I have a massive headache.” My shoulders convulsed. My mouth turned dry. I tried not to think about Reid, except that my nectar ampule was still on him—the one he’d put in his pocket. I dropped beside him, trying to remember which pocket it was in.

Michael was suddenly next to me. He grabbed my arm, dragging me away from the body and up against his side. He crushed me so close that his heartbeat thumped in my ear. It sounded just like the thrumming in the white room, just like the rhythm of my favorite dance. I didn’t struggle. I stayed there, listening and trying to straighten out the pulp in my head.

He kept hold of me, pulling me down with him as he knelt beside Reid and reached into his back pocket. He brought out the golden ampule, but he didn’t hand it to me. He turned it over to reveal the side with the etching of the scorpion. His hands brushed a little glowing light resting at the tip of the creature’s tail.

“Ava, I’m sorry.”

Tears fell down my cheeks and I couldn’t stop them. “That light in the ampule. That’s the tracking device, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I’m not going to tell you not to use this. I know now what it feels like to be truly afraid of death. But if you do, then you have to know, you won’t get far.” His hands were gentle as he placed the ampule in my palm. “If you choose this, I’ll understand.”

I stared at it, turning it over and over. Then I put it down, leaving it with the scorpion upturned on Reid’s chest. “No. I’m not staying.”

“You can survive this. I know you can.” He captured me against him, both his arms around me. “I believe anything now because I know you believe in me.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about walls. “I know they made you do a lot of things. But that night when you came to my house, you weren’t there to trap me. You were trying to escape. You weren’t lying about that.”

“We can get out of here. I can take you somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe. There’s no way we can make it to Starsgard.” I pulled back. “My neighbor’s here—Mrs. Hubert—they have her. Same as Jeremiah and his brother. How can we be safe if they aren’t?”

“I know, Ava. It was the first thing they showed me when they brought me here.”

“Do you know where we are?”

He shook his head. “I guess we’ll know when we get out.”

When
we get out. I clung to his words as tightly as he held me. I almost couldn’t breathe, all squished up against his bare chest, but there was a part of me that didn’t mind. I said, “That thing’s still in your spine.” The electrocution device still nestled at the base of Michael’s head.

His jaw clenched right next to my forehead. “It can’t hurt me now. I mean, it’ll hurt, but it won’t kill me. Let’s get out of here.”

There was urgency in his words, but it was like his arms weren’t paying attention, still hugging me, spreading warmth through me. I didn’t want him to stop, but too soon I found my feet on the purple floor and Michael’s hand in mine. He put me to the side and darted to Reid, reaching around the man’s neck and pulling out a chain with a key on it.

“I saw them using these keys on some of the doors,” he explained, slipping the chain over his own head, but I held out my hand for it.

“It’s not exactly hidden on you.” I pointed at his bare skin where the key rested. “If it’s important, we might want to put it somewhere nobody will see it.”

He relinquished the chain and I slid it around my neck and tucked it into my shirt. “Where are we going?”

“There are lots of doors.”

By the way he said it, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He tugged me forward, stopping at the doorway, and ducked his head around it. I half expected a volley of bullets. The serenity was somehow more disturbing.

Michael looked perplexed. “He had to have set off some kind of alarm, but where are they? This place should be crowded by now.” He turned his gaze to me. “Unless he wasn’t supposed to bring you here.”

I shrugged. “Why am I not surprised?”

“They’ll figure out you’re gone eventually. I think we should go this way to get out.”

I put my hand on his arm. “No, Michael. What about the others?”

He frowned, and I reminded him. “Mrs. Hubert? Thomas? You remember that kid who thought I was an angel? We can’t leave them here to die.”

“I don’t think we can save them either.”

“I want to try.” I was tired and starving, but I couldn’t leave them behind.

“No, Ava, there’s no way … ”

“There has to be.” I exhaled, trying to quell my frustration. “What is it with you? You’re like this untouchable god, you can survive anything, and yet you’re too scared to help them.”

“I’m not scared for them. I’m scared for you.”

I bit my lip, half out of uncertainty, half because it wouldn’t stop trembling. He looked at me the same way he had right before I killed Reid—as though something terrible was about to happen and he couldn’t stop it. In the next instant, I remembered Jeremiah’s brother, his upturned face, looking at me as if I was a shining star sent to earth.

I said, “I can’t leave them there. Just like I couldn’t leave you.”

His chest rose and fell. “You know, for someone who can die, you are seriously reckless.”

I took his hand, forcing him to look at me. “I’ve only got one shot at this life thing. I’m not going to spend it giving in.”

We crept down the corridor with our heads ducked low. If we headed far enough back the way I’d come, we’d reach the room where the people were captive. The streamlined walls formed a long curve ahead of us. Some doors were visible, with glass panels that we edged up to and peered inside, but most were concealed in long stretches of smooth blue wall, the barest outline giving them away. One of them was the room where I’d spent the night, hidden so well I’d never find it again. Further along, we passed the open doorway into the room with the enormous wall screen. After another five doors, I was certain we were close.

Michael suddenly put his hand on my arm. Just ahead, the wall bent sharply and it was impossible to see around the corner. I nodded at the finger he put to his lips. He gave my shirtsleeve a small tug with his other hand and slithered a little further along, pressed up hard against the wall. I followed until I saw the open door.

He stopped again, and I listened for any sign of soldiers. Just when I thought it was safe, I caught a murmur from the room.

Then a louder voice. “How long before the weapon’s ready for the drones?”

Michael tensed and I glanced at him.

He mouthed. “That’s my dad. I should get you out of here.”

I shook my head. Glared.
No
.

Michael gave a silent sigh. He pointed along the corridor and edged closer to the door, checking around the curve. Then he slid to the floor and pulled me with him. I realized why a moment later when I noticed the window ledge above us. The door was a couple feet farther along. We listened again. It was hard to tell, but the voices sounded distant, and I guessed that they were deep inside the room.

Before Michael could stop me, I scooted up and peeked through the window. Not much had changed since the day before. Metal beds lined the middle, and only four of them were filled. Machines rose up behind each one and tubes crisscrossed the bodies like someone’s failed knitting project.

Cheyne and Michael’s dad stood at either side of Thomas’s bed. The boy didn’t appear to have any wires or tubes attached. I was sure he’d had a few in his feet the day before. Hovering over him, Michael’s dad was an older version of Michael, hair graying at the temples, same jawline, but different eyes—watchful, analyzing—and a short beard speckled with gray. In the next moment, Michael yanked me to the floor, giving me a look that could have killed.

I breathed out. The corridor swam. It wasn’t Michael’s glare that knotted my stomach. I kept my voice lower than a whisper. “Cheyne has a gun.”

From inside the room, Michael’s dad said, “How many of these have we manufactured so far?”

“Twenty weapons with one round each.”

An exhaled breath. “We need to work faster.”

“We’re going as fast as we can, Robert.”

A growl. “Okay, well, one thing at a time. Shoot the boy, and we’ll see what happens.”

I wanted to rush in there, but Michael gripped my arm and his fingers tightened. “He’ll live.”

“Are you sure?”

I could see by the look on Michael’s face that he wasn’t. This time, it was Michael who pushed upward, peering through the window with all the worry in his body radiating out over me. I joined him, just in time to see Cheyne raise the gun—a small green weapon with gold and brown swirls over it—aim at the kid’s leg, and pull the trigger.

The boy’s body kicked. He didn’t wake up or react in any other way.

Michael’s dad remained clinical. “I see what you were trying to tell me: the ampule itself doesn’t kill. It only mortalizes.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm. Is that how you restrained Michael?”

“Yes, but we’re using a slow-release ampule designed for a weapon similar to a tranquilizer gun. It’s the same system as the nectar ampule. It penetrates the skin, but not the flesh beneath. There’s no lasting damage and it can be removed to restore regeneration. Don’t worry, he’s fine. We’ll take it out as soon as he starts cooperating.”

There was a pause and a sigh. “Maybe I should speak with him. If I just try to explain everything … ”

“Do you think he’ll listen?”

Michael’s dad shook his head. “Have we heard anything about Seversand’s response?”

“They’re backing off. For now.”

“And the Bashers?”

“We brought Ava here just in time. We need to be prepared, though. They won’t give up.”

“We can’t let them get hold of her. The only way this works is if we have a monopoly on the weapon.” He exhaled. “Okay, let’s get on with it. It looks like killing is a two-step process.”

“Mortalize, then kill.” Cheyne looked grim. “It means our soldiers need to be equipped with at least one other weapon. Unless … ” He pointed the gun at the boy’s head. “They shoot for a vital organ. The ampule lodges in the organ, releases a massive dose of mortality serum, and prevents regeneration. Then the damage becomes fatal.”

The corners of the other man’s mouth turned down. “We need to test it.”

“Are you sure? There might be other tests we need to run on him.”

“This
is
the most important test. This is what we’re here for. We have to know how it works—and how it can be counteracted.”

Cheyne paused. “Which organ?”

“The heart.”

I was moving before I knew it, surprised to see that Michael was already ahead of me. He shouted as he ran into the room. At his right, I skidded to a halt before I collided with a table on wheels, covered in neat rows of sharp-looking medical instruments. The table bucked and rolled a couple feet toward the men.

They both leaped upright. Cheyne immediately pointed the gun at us, but Michael’s dad stood very still, unmoving, even though his expression betrayed shock.

He drew himself up and he was just as tall as Michael but thinner, lankier. He held something in his hand—some kind of syringe that I hadn’t noticed before. “Son?”

Michael came to a halt, six feet away from his dad. “I’m not going to let you kill that kid.”

“There are tests we have to run, Michael. It’s for the greater good.”

Michael shook his head. “No, Dad.”

“Sit down and listen, Michael. I need to explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain. I know murder when I see it.”

His dad snorted and took a step toward Michael, putting the syringe down on the bed, hidden in the folds of material. “Well, I guess you would.”

Michael jolted away from his dad. “That wasn’t like this! You should have told me about Josh. I never would have fought him.”

His dad glanced from me to Michael. “I couldn’t, son. I know you think you’re doing the right thing here, but the safety and security of our whole country is at risk—millions of innocent people. Seversand wants this weapon—badly. We’re in a race right now that makes the nuclear bomb look like a toy. If we don’t carry through, our way of life will be destroyed, and you think this kid is worth it. He’ll be dead too.”

“Nothing justifies what you’re doing here. Nothing!”

“You’re naïve, Michael.” Mr. Bradley’s face twisted. “You got that from your mother.”

Michael launched himself at his dad, catching the other man on the chin with a ferocious fist. Cheyne waved the gun at them both as Michael’s dad hit back, stronger than his wiry frame looked. They banged into the metal bed behind them and I thought it was going to overturn.