“I know.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can.”
She leans into me and plops her head on my chest. I stroke her hair gently.
“Be careful, Hazel,” she says. “Don’t let them get away with whatever it is they’re doing.”
I nod even though she can’t see it. We linger in a hug for a few minutes until I leave her on the bed and close the light.
Luka is waiting for me downstairs.
Uncle Will offers for us to stay and leave at next nightfall, but Luka is anxious to get back on the road.
“Take care of yourself, Hazelnut,” Uncle Will says as we hug goodbye. “Don’t forget, we’re all on your side.” He smiles as he breaks away from the hug. “And don’t worry about things here. We’ll take good care of that baby.”
I embrace Aunt Rhea.
“We are here for you whenever you need us.” She looks me squarely in the eye. “You can always find help here. Always.”
I relish in one more hug.
Luka thanks Uncle Will for his trouble, and we pile into the car. Uncle Will waits for us to drive off before he disappears into the night.
I roll down the window and let the breeze hit my face. The air is chilly, and it helps to reawaken me.
Luka looks over at me and smiles. He reaches for my hand, and I hold it with a firm grip. I look out the window soaking in the view. The road dips and curves around the mountainside. In between the trees you can see clear across to Salem. A few lights twinkle in the distance, and it almost looks pretty from here.
“The phone.” I sit up straight. Margaret’s outside connection.
I dig in the bag and retrieve it from its hiding spot. It’s been turned off to preserve the battery. I press the “call” button on the first number and put the phone on speaker.
“Covington,” Margaret says after just one ring. “He’s from Salem but doesn’t stay there much. Shane Covington.”
Words shrivel in my mouth, and my heart drops to my stomach at the sound of his name. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I draw blood. It is the only way to stifle the scream building in my throat. Luka winces, and I realize I’m squeezing his hand.
I smile at him apologetically.
After ending the conversation, I fade out and maintain my stare out the car window, anxiously anticipating my unexpected reunion with Shane.
Chapter 19
Luka stirs, turning onto his stomach and freeing me from his embrace. Since we got to Salem, he sleeps with one hand holding on to my body as if he’s afraid I’ll run away in the middle of the night. I think about it sometimes.
I lie there for a few more minutes before I get up and head into the bathroom. I step over two or three other bodies on the way there. I can’t really tell since there are things heaped all over the floor— blankets, clothes, empty water jugs. Luka and Justin used to tattoo together before Luka was reaped. Justin’s house is a revolving door for anyone who needs a place to crash.
The house is quiet, and I tiptoe to the only bathroom.
I miss Netty and baby Catherine.
I avoid my reflection in the mirror, afraid of what I’ll see staring back at me. When I step into the shower, the cold water does good to wake me up. When I’m done, I hug the towel close to my body. I sort through the borrowed clothes, and Luka opens his eyes. He reaches out for my arm, gently rubbing it back and forth.
“You look good in that towel,” he says.
I give him a half-smile, anxious to dress. Privacy is hard to come by here. I manage to slip on my underwear okay, but the jeans prove to be more difficult to finagle with one hand.
“Here,” he says, getting up. “Let me help you.”
I clutch the knot of the towel harder.
“I’ll hold the towel up so you can get dressed easier.” He tilts his head with an innocent look, but it doesn’t convince me his intentions are pure.
“Close your eyes.”
He scoffs at my request, but the look I give him lets him know I’m not budging.
“Closed,” he says as he peaks an eye open.
“All the way.”
He laughs and clenches his eyes. I can’t help but stifle a smile.
I take Luka’s hand and place them around the knot of the towel close to my chest. His slender fingers carefully graze my skin as he undoes the towel and stretches it in front of me. Luka holds the towel patiently as I finish sliding my jeans up over my legs and quickly put on a bra and shirt. He stands there in nothing but a pair of gym shorts he snagged from Justin, the waistband of his boxer briefs peeking through the waist. He still hasn’t shaved and is now sporting a very rough beard.
“I think I might shave today,” he says as if reading my mind.
“I kind of like it.”
Once I’m done getting dressed, I let Luka know, and he drops the towel.
“Then I’ll keep it for a while longer,” he says with a wink.
Something simmers inside my body.
“My turn,” he says as he plants a light kiss on my mouth.
I close my eyes, letting his lips silence the noise in my head. He heads toward the bathroom as I make my way into the kitchen, thinking about the subtle intimate gesture; the same towel I used on my body will now be all over his.
I’m surprised to see Justin up already, sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee. He usually works late and sleeps in, so I’ve hardly seen him since we got here.
“Morning,” I say.
“Coffee?” he asks me, raising his mug.
“No thanks, never really enjoyed it much.”
He nods and continues to sip. “Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair across from him. I notice the small television, sitting on the kitchen counter, obscured by a stack of notebooks. The picture is a little fuzzy, and there’s no sound.
“Do you always watch television like this?”
Justin smiles. “The sound doesn’t work. It’s an old set someone traded for a tattoo.”
We watch the video silently, and I find it aggravating not knowing what the people are saying to one another.
“Thank you for letting us stay here with you. If there’s anything I can do to help out, please let me know.”
“It’s no problem,” he says, getting up from his chair. He walks over to the fridge and pulls out a carton of juice.
Justin plops the glass in front of me.
“Drink,” he commands. “You look like you haven’t eaten anything good in a while.” He rummages back in the fridge and pulls out a few eggs. He cracks them into a glass bowl.
“You don’t have to go through any trouble,” I say.
He looks back at me, whisking the eggs into a yellow fury. “It’s no trouble,” he assures me. “Luka taught me everything I know. I owe him big.” He pours the egg mixture into the pan. It sizzles and pops as the smell of warm food hits my nose. My stomach rumbles in happy anticipation.
Justin scrapes the eggs onto a plate he grabbed off the drying rack. He plops the plate in front of me, and the rising steam hits my face. I can’t resist it, and I plunge my fork into the fluffy pile. Justin plops back down on the chair. I offer him some, but he refuses.
“Eat,” he says in the same commanding voice. He doesn’t say anything at first, and I’m not sure if I should continue the conversation. Just as I’m about to open my mouth, Luka walks into the kitchen in nothing but a towel notched around his waist. I look up from my eggs and nearly choke.
“Hey,” he says. “I need something to wear.”
Justin tells him to rummage through his dresser and help himself to whatever’s clean.
“Don’t believe a word this guy tells you,” Luka playfully warns, making his way to Justin’s bedroom.
We are alone again. I put the fork down and leave half of what’s left for Luka.
“He never mentioned me, did he?” Justin asks.
I take a sip of juice and shrug. “Once. He did say something along the lines of ‘sharing his inva
luable tattooing wisdom’ with you.”
Justin laughs. “Yeah, I guess you’ve figured out modesty isn’t his strong suit.”
I share a few stories of Luka’s cafeteria outbursts. Turns out, he has a reputation of being a hothead.
“It’s really fucked up,” Justin says, before taking another sip of coffee. “What they’re making people do there.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re lucky we made it out.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. Luka isn’t one to follow the rules all the time.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“You surprise me, though,” Justin says.
I mindlessly play with the food left on my plate with the fork. I don’t know why this conversation is making me uncomfortable, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Why’s that?” I ask, not meeting his gaze.
He leans in closer to me, his arms and elbows folded on the table. “Because I haven’t seen him this hooked on someone since Marissa.” He says it quietly, his eyes darting into the hallway leading to the rest of the house.
Marissa? The name plunges deep into my gut like a hot knife, yet I don’t know why. He never mentioned any Marissa. He never mentioned any girl to me. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned—the past is never far behind you, no matter how long you refuse to look back.
“Who’s that?” I ask, finally looking him in the eye. I do my best to keep my tone casual.
“She was his fiancée.”
Chapter 20
The car ride is silent, both of us keeping quiet for different reasons. I can tell Luka is nervous about seeing his parents. Learning he lost his fiancée during the Affliction was startling news. I can’t help but to feel a little betrayed. It was a piece of himself he held back. I scold myself, knowing I have done the same to him. I never once mentioned Shane, even when the opportunity came up. What was the point? Shane and I were never engaged. We were never even a couple. Our relationship was more like a bolt of lightning-- gone as quickly as it appeared.
The ride is short. We pass only a few inhabited houses. The headlights of the car cut through the night.
Luka pulls into the driveway.
“Ready?”
I nod and my nerves scream.
Luka grabs my hand as we walk together to the front door. I can tell the house used to be beautiful. He knocks on the door and we wait, the chirping of crickets serenading in the background.
Luka exhales deeply, maintaining his stare. He looks nervous, too, which makes me feel more uneasy. I give his hand a good squeeze, and he finally looks over, giving me an uneven smile. The door unlocks, not once, but three times before it finally swings open. Standing in front of us is a man who has Luka’s smile, framed with the same dimples. His eyes are bright and topped with salt and pepper eyebrows that match the hair on his head.
“Hi, Dad.”
His father’s eyebrows meet his hairline. He pulls Luka in and wraps both arms around his shoulders. Through the faint moonlight, I can see the tears well in his father’s eyes. They stand in an embrace for a few seconds, patting each other on the back. I smile and take a few steps back.
When they finally break apart, Luka reaches his hand out and pulls me by his side, his father’s eyes following every step. I want to crawl into a dark hole.
“Dad, this is Hazel.”
I hold out my hand, and he gives it a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Hazel. I’m Adam.”
Adam invites us in, and I do my best to stay behind Luka, thinking that maybe I’ll disappear. The inside of the house is clean and organized, the total opposite of Justin’s, and it smells like warm cinnamon. We walk into the kitchen, and I hear a high-pitched squeal. I peer around Luka and see a short slender woman, same age as Adam, wrap her arms around Luka’s neck. His mom.
“How are you here right now?” she says. Her green eyes dart to mine as she pulls away.
“Hello,” she says to me. Her tone is friendly and welcoming, and I do my best to try and relax.
She extends her hand to me, and I reach out to meet it with mine.
“I’m Hazel. It’s nice to meet you.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but our introduction is interrupted. Her lips are moving, but her voice is muffled. I can’t hear what she says over the sound of the explosion.
Luka pulls me to the floor, using one hand to cover my head and the other to cover his own. Bits of the ceiling sprinkle down on us in white fluffy flakes. We wait for a few minutes, but for what, I don’t know. Should we run? I seem to be the only one panicking; Luka and his parents are startled but otherwise pretty calm.
“Goddamn Rusers!” his father calls as he checks the front window of the house.
Luka gets up from the floor and stands by his dad. I lean against the refrigerator, trying to calm my racing heart. I don’t hear any commotion outside apart from a few barking dogs. Luka’s mom slowly gets up and offers her hand to help me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hazel. I’m Sylvie.”
* * * *
I’m sitting across from Luka’s mom at the kitchen table, both of us sipping a cup of tea. Luka and his father have gone outside to check on Uncle Will’s car and to see what had been blown. Sylvie delicately sips from her mug, offering me a warm smile to close the silence between us.
“Does this happen a lot here?” I ask her.
She nods, recovering from a sip. “Too often. More now than before. Things have gotten considerably worse now that the Officials have busied themselves with their plan to save the world.” Sylvie clears her throat and fiddles with the napkin on the table. “You and my son were paired?”
“Yes,” I say. “Apparently our genetic makeup can produce viable babies.” I wince, reminded of the doctor’s speech while I was in the whammy chair.
“And have you…?” She squirms a bit.
I stare blankly at her for a while, not sure what to say.
“Made viable babies?” I say when it occurs to me what she’s getting at.
She nods, a look of anticipation on her face.
“No.” I feel the heat flush my cheeks. “Luka and I vowed not to.” I look at a deep scratch on the table.
Sylvie sighs, seemingly relieved. “How brave of you both.”
“Or stupid.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
“I don’t think so at all,” she says. “One day, when the time is right. And if you two think it’s best.” She smiles and takes another sip. “Genetic match doesn’t exactly imply love.”
The door in the kitchen opens, and I’m flooded with relief that it’s Luka and his dad.
“Car’s okay,” Luka says to me with his megawatt smile.
I say nothing and just offer him a wink.
Adam shakes his head. “They blew up Charlie’s old shed out in the field. Damn thing’s in a million pieces all over the road.”
Sylvie busies herself with making us something to eat even though Luka insists we shouldn’t stay. When she looks at her only living son, there is nothing but pure adoration reflected in her eyes. It creates an ache for my own mother. What was it like to lose one son and then another to the reaping?
“Where do you plan to go?” his mom asks, catching the sight of Luka grabbing my hand.
My cheeks burn, and I gently pull it away. Luka peers at me from the corner of his eye but lets his hands fall into his lap.
“I’m not sure yet, but we can’t stay here. Pigeons can show up any time,” Luka says firmly.
His parents exchange looks.
“How can we help?” Adam asks, looking at Luka. “Is there anything we can do?”
He’s my father’s polar. The sincerity oozes from his words. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with a father like Adam.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” I blurt out. “Take care of the car. It’s my uncle’s most prized possession.”
“I think we can handle that,” Adam says.
Sylvie nods.
It’s one less thing we need to worry about.
“We won’t be staying long,” Luka says, “before we move to the next hiding place.”
His parents don’t ask any more questions or try to convince us to turn ourselves in.
Luka and his father head back into the garage to collect a few things out of Uncle’s Will car, namely the guns we brought with us for the walk home. His mother and I are once again left alone in the living room. I let my eyes wander around, noticing all the photographs and odds and ends she has neatly placed in each corner of the room. I wonder if it’s the stuff Luka said he used to bring home from work.
There are photographs sitting on the side table near the chair Sylvie is sitting on. She grabs it and sits next to me on the couch, filling Luka’s empty spot.
The picture is of two boys; one looks only two or three and the other much older, maybe nine or ten. They both have dark brown hair that falls long over their foreheads and sparkling green eyes.
“Luka and his older brother, Markus,” she says, pointing to each as she says their name. She hands me the picture so I can get a closer look. I smile at the image of baby Luka. His face is round and pudgy—so unlike the man I know him as now.
“This was taken a few months before Markus died,” she says quietly. Her tone does not crack or become emotional.
I look up at her, but she is staring into the picture, lost in some happy memory of her two boys together and alive.
“How did he die?” I ask, not sure if it’s an appropriate question.
So many have died from the Affliction, people just stopped asking.
“Car accident,” she says to me. “He was struck by a car on his bicycle.”
When death becomes so overwhelming it’s easy to forget that it is the natural process of life. People died way before the Affliction occurred, and people will continue to die. It is the one constant that we will never be able to change.
Suddenly, I feel so guilty putting another one of her sons’ lives in harm’s way. She softly smiles at me, but I can see the pain reflected in her eyes.
“Sylvie, I’m sorry.”
She furrows her brow as I hand her the picture.
The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1) Page 9