Torn (31 page)

“What's happening?” he asked, faltering. “What are you going to do?”

“You've been convicted of kidnapping and impersonation,” one of the guards informed him. “The penalty is execution.”

“What about a trial?” Cole's heart stopped. He eyed the glittering Taser gripped tightly in the arm of the man next to him. Another guard, a woman, was closing handcuffs around his wrist.

“You've been found guilty already,” she told him. “As a fugitive, you have no recourse.” Two firm hands gripped his shoulders, pushing him to his knees on the ground. Cole cried out as the man next to him raised the Taser in the air and commanded the others to surround him.

And then the truth of the situation landed within Cole's gut, solid as lead. He still had an out. He would die either way, but he could still determine the nature of his death. He could die with dignity, on his own terms.

Cole braced himself and prepared to roll.

21

DAVIS

Davis ran faster than she'd run in months. Her lungs burned, but she pushed through it. She was half ecstatic, half terrified. She'd arrived at the Olympiads to see a large projection of the guards congregating on the rooftop as they waited for Cole to make his slow ascent. She saw their guns and their handcuffs, and she'd turned from the spectator stands, pushing her way back to the streets, toward the building where they stood.

It wasn't just about Cole making it through the ropes alive anymore. He'd been identified, likely by someone in the crowd—some dirty old Prior gambler—who'd recognized him from the FEUDS. He was so close to making it to the end—a minor miracle in itself—but for what? She knew what the guards would do if she didn't get there in time. The thought of being given a second chance and having it ripped away was too much to bear. Fear kept her legs moving faster than she'd run since before she contracted the disease. She prayed Cole would move slowly, that even the promise of money—which is surely why he'd risked the Olympiads in the first place—wouldn't enable him to quicken his own pace.

She had to get to him before he got to them.

Cole. Her Cole, whom she'd loved with her whole heart and had never stopped loving. Only one thing mattered to her then, and that was reaching him in time. She would die herself before she lost him again.

She'd recognized the building from the advertisement looming above it. She'd passed that very sign—an ad for luxury apartment buildings—every day on her way to her dance studio. She'd memorized the outline of the swimming pool, of the laughing, canned faces of a young family posing happily. It was a half mile from the border of the Slants. It may as well have been a hundred miles. She felt, as she went, as though she were running in place. Every second felt like an eternity, and yet her lungs burned and her legs begged for relief. Her still-weakened body fought against her mind and heart. But every time she wanted to stop, Cole's face flashed in her mind.

She'd never met anyone like him. He was determined, stronger than his limitations. He was brilliant and sensitive and kind. He was doing it all for her; she'd seen that. All this time, he had to have known she was still out there—and he was pulling himself across that rope straight to her.

Or straight into the hands of the policemen.

She couldn't let it happen. She couldn't allow it to end this way.

It took her four minutes to reach the building from the spectator stands. Four long minutes in which she felt Cole's life slipping away even as it was just restored to her. Then she was there, riding the elevator to the top, racing up and down the hall on the top floor as she searched for the entrance to the roof deck.

Thankfully, it was well marked for staff and judges. The hallways were eerily still. Where was everyone? Her heart in her throat, Davis pushed her way up the stairwell and onto the roof.

There were twenty or thirty people obscuring her view. Judges, civilians, fallen competitors. Gasps and cries rippled through the crowd of onlookers. What were they gaping at? Were they staring at Cole's slain body? Davis shouldered her way through, elbowing and shoving everyone in her path without caring how it looked or whether she hurt them or whether anyone tried to stop her. She nearly fainted from relief when she saw Cole kneeling, still alive, in front of several guards. She paused just long enough to take in the scene.

One guard lifted an arm high in the air. He was wielding a Taser. “Go!” he yelled, and three other guards formed a semicircle, blocking Cole in against the edge of the roof. They, too, drew Tasers from their belts. Davis saw Cole's eyes darting to the open air behind him. She knew in an instant what he planned to do.

“Cole,” she cried, hurling herself in front of the crowd, then in front of the guards, who didn't register her presence fast enough. “Cole, no.” She threw her body onto the black tar surface of the rooftop, shielding his body from the guards. She braced herself against the pain that was sure to follow. She wasn't afraid of the Tasers. She didn't care what happened to her, as long as Cole was safe. She shut her eyes, trembling, shutting out the roaring cries from the people surrounding her. Waiting for the shock and the ensuing current of pain to rip through her body.

“Davis.” She heard his voice, low and tender, next to her.

She opened her eyes to find Cole's eyes locked on her own. His were full of feeling, wide and disbelieving. He reached toward her, touching her cheek lightly, as if she were a fragile thing that he couldn't quite believe was real.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks and over his fingertips. Together they looked up to see all four Tasers angled down at them. And yet, no one shot.

“Look,” Cole said, reaching for her. She looked up into the mouths of the guns. There was a firm hand gripping the arm of the guard who'd barked the command to pull the Tasers. The hand was adorned with a government-issue signet ring. Her father. He'd stopped them for now, but his eyes were fraught with doubt.

“Dad,” she said, pulling herself to her feet, careful to keep her body between Cole and the guards.

“Davis. You need to step aside.”

“He's not a kidnapper, Dad,” she said. “He hasn't done anything wrong. All this time, he's been taking care of Vera in the Slants. Vera and her baby. Vera's pregnant, Dad. That's why her parents threw her out. And they're working on a cure for Narxis. Vera's baby is going to save us all.” She stopped, aware of the way her sentences were running into each other, making little sense to anyone.

“What are you saying?” her father said. Then, to the guards, “Lower the Tasers, for God's sake.”

“Cole and his friend Tom are developing a cure for Narxis,” Davis said again. “He wants to help. He's not a bad person, Dad. He doesn't deserve this. I … I love him.” She held her father's eyes, trying to convey through a single look the depth of emotion she felt and the truth of her words.

Her father swallowed, saying nothing. “Cameras off,” he finally said. “
Off,
” he bellowed again, when nobody moved. There was a general chaos as Priors scurried to obey his command and onlookers muttered to themselves. Davis turned to Cole, wrapping her arms around him.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” she wept into his neck. “I was sure you were dead.”

“I stayed alive for you,” he told her. “All of it, every day, was for you.” His forehead rested on hers and his breath was hot. Through her chest she felt his heart pounding. Without hesitating, she drew his mouth to hers, kissing him passionately. His lips against hers made her feel whole, complete again in a way she had forgotten. She felt bigger than life, and her heart soared with his above the rooftop and her father and the crowds and the Olympiads. Together, they were so much more than they were alone. They were invincible.

“Well,” her father said, his voice rough. “There's certainly not a lack of love here.”

“Dad—” Davis started, but her father held up a hand, silencing her. He turned to address Cole.

“I watched you out there today,” he told Cole. “I saw the way you fought. You had strength of character. You fought from inside, without trying to derail anyone else. And you saved a competitor's life earlier. I respect that. I'm not going to have someone executed for trying to live with integrity.”

“Sir, I—”

“Not a word,” her dad said wearily. “We have a lot to talk about. But let's do it back in my office.” He put his hand out, helping them both to their feet, then he led them from the roof, past the few officials who had lingered to watch it all unfold. When they descended to the ground floor and climbed into the waiting taxi, Davis wrapped her arms around her father.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I don't know what to say.”

“Everything I do is because I love you,” he said to her.

“I know, Dad,” she said. “I understand that now. I know all about my mom. And I see that you were protecting me all along. I know why you hid her from me.”

Her father's eyes were sad as he spoke. He squeezed her tighter, and she breathed in his familiar scent of cigars and vanilla aftershave. It was a scent she'd known her entire life, and it immediately calmed her. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he told her. “I can't help but feel like I should have told you the truth. I couldn't bear to hurt you. But maybe it wasn't the right way. I'm human, just like everyone else. I spent my whole life teaching you. But it's a new world, and everything's changing. Maybe I could use a few pointers from you.”

“No,” she assured him. “I'm grateful for it. I wasn't ready to know the truth until the moment I did.” Her dad smiled down at her, squeezing her shoulder, then turned to Cole.

“What's this you say about curing Narxis?” he asked as the car sped back to their apartment. “Is what my daughter said true?”

“It's all true, sir,” Cole said, his face grave. “We've been working for months. We're close to developing something that may work.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” her dad repeated, gazing out the window. “And I'd like to help. I'll provide your friend—the one directing the experiments—with anything he needs. Just tell me where to find him.”

“I can do better than that,” Cole said. “I can take you.”

“No.” They pulled up in front of their building, and Davis's father nodded toward the door. “I want you to stay with my daughter. I suspect you two have some things you may want to talk about.”

Davis smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

She climbed out of the car while Cole gave the driver detailed instructions to Worsley's lab in the Slants. She waited for him, and when the car pulled off, they walked hand in hand into her building. Cole had never been to her home before, she realized. He'd never been allowed. The feeling of freedom was intoxicating.

Cole felt it too, she realized. He squeezed her hand, drawing her to him. This time, when they kissed, it was a promise.

“I'll never leave you again,” he told her.

Everything from now on—their devotion to each other, and what they chose to do with it—was up to them. Freedom was powerful. It was invincible. It was their destiny.

22

DAVIS

TWO MONTHS LATER

Davis completed thirty-two
fouett
é
s en tournant
and slid to a graceful stop, padding lightly to the window of her studio. It had been ages since she'd nailed the thirty-two fouett
é
s, but this week she'd done it three times. She was free of Narxis, having tested an early version of the vaccine, which was in the production phase. For the past month she'd been building back her strength and training for her role in the New Atlantic Ballet Company's
Cinderella,
due to go on tour that month. Cole had promised to attend the opening performance. Davis wasn't the prima ballerina in her new company. But she'd realized belatedly that it was better this way; she was dancing for the love of it, and she was working hard, but she no longer felt the pressing need for perfection.

The window of her studio overlooked the Slants. Formerly an eyesore, the Slants were being built up—and her father was at the head of the plans. Integration was moving full speed ahead, now that her father had passed the bill that allowed Priors and Gens to intermingle at all points in Columbus, and required equal plumbing, electricity, and housing standards in the Slants as well as in North Columbus.

A new bridge linking the Slants to the city proper had already been erected, and from her position at the window, Davis could see construction commencing on several modern apartment buildings. The estimated time for completion of the project was one year, with displaced Gens living in temporary housing in downtown Columbus, smack in the center of the town. It was no longer uncommon to see Gens and Priors intermingling, and according to her father it was happening more steadily and quicker than any other integration in history—largely due to the Gens' recent contributions to the medical field. Ever since Thomas had perfected his Narxis vaccine, he'd become a local celebrity. Best of all, TOR-N had been shut down for good, and proceeds from the lawsuit against doctors who'd been skimming had been put toward the care of remaining patients and proper burials of the dead. Dr. Grady had finally gotten what was coming to him: he was in jail for a minimum of five years, even after paying reparations. The island itself had been turned into an animal sanctuary. Davis liked that.

Furthermore, a dialogue had been opened about just what was preventing Gens from attending top colleges, and why. Columbus had banded together to rebuild the city, and everyone was encouraged to contribute. The stigma still existed, but after only two months, they were making enormous strides. Davis felt pride, looking out at the Slants and knowing that just a few months ago there had nearly been a civil war. She and Cole—and their love—had helped bring about the change.