Ellin hated how wonderful it felt, hated Merak for bringing her to the place where she’d actually enjoy this. She stopped weeping, but her breaths still came quickly, fueled by fury. She buried her face in his chest, schooling it into a humble expression.
“Tell me what’s wrong, please.” Merak sounded desperate.
She wished he’d put her down, but he continued to hold her close. “It’s silly,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s not. Please tell me.”
“I’ve read everything you’ve brought me for days now. Most of it, I’ve read four or five times. It’s hard being in here when I know how much good work is being done out there.”
Merak finally removed her from his lap, sitting her gently on the bed next to him. He said nothing, instead pulling his flex out of his pocket. After firming it, he tilted it so Ellin couldn’t see it. A couple of taps, and the eights on her hands released.
Ellin gasped and pulled the things off. Before she knew it, she was hugging Merak, whispering, “Thank you.” She had to force herself to let go of him.
Merak put the eights in his pocket. “This is a symbol of my trust. If all goes as I expect, I think you’ll be joining me ‘out there,’ as you put it, very soon.”
Ellin smiled, blinking away more tears. “How soon?”
Mirroring her smile, Merak said, “Perhaps in a week or so.”
Her face collapsed into hopelessness, and she looked away.
“Ellin.” Merak’s hand cupped her cheek, and he brought her face up to look at him again. “Just a week. It’ll be over before you know it.” He kissed the top of her head and left.
The restraints on her feet loosened. She took them off and threw them at the door.
Merak bolted the door, then darted outside. He fell to his knees on the dirt, buried his face in his hands, and wept.
Holding Ellin like that—it brought him right back to the hours he’d spent holding his little girl in the hospital. She’d been sick with a fever for a few days, complaining of a tummy ache, and had suddenly gone into a coma.
He could still picture the doctor’s face when he’d spoken the words: Extremely rare, extremely aggressive liver cancer.
Relieved hope had flooded Merak’s heart. He’d grabbed Arisa’s hand and spoken through a throat swollen with tears: Cancer—so it’s curable?
Not this time.
Merak insisted they do everything they could, and the doctors complied. As Ellin continued to decline, Merak read everything he could find on modern cancer treatment. He came across the same basic statement, over and over: Cancer has essentially been cured, except for rare, aggressive cases.
Those last five words relegated his daughter to a cruel footnote, destined for digital immortality in some doctor’s case study.
Ellin died six days after her diagnosis.
In the year after her death, Merak grew his company from a small, successful firm to a world-class corporation. As soon as he could spare the funds, he and Arisa started the Merak Foundation. They threw money at researchers specializing in rare, aggressive cancers.
Within three years, the nation of Vallinger had the technology to cure every form of cancer. Four years later, every country in the world had the same ability. The Merak Foundation was, quite rightly, given credit for most of the advancements.
Now, Merak was on a quest to shorten the length of cancer treatments. Yes, every cancer was curable, but what if someone didn’t get diagnosed in time? He wouldn’t rest until it was possible to eradicate cancer in one simple treatment, or even prevent it altogether.
Looking back at the faded, green building, he was filled with an urge to run back in and hold Ellin close again. Then he could let her out of that dreadful room, bring her home, introduce her—no, he couldn’t go that far. Arisa and Gil wouldn’t understand. Instead, he’d mentor Ellin, keep her close by his side as he worked with the corporation and the foundation. She’d change the world with him. Just like his Ellin would have done.
No longer crying, Merak stood and took a step back toward the building, then halted. Something told him it wasn’t time to release Ellin yet, not until they had the isotope and she could witness its magnificent potential. If only she knew how much it hurt him to leave her in there.
“Soon, dear Ellin.” He kissed his hand and held it out toward the building.
WEDNESDAY, CYGNI 3, 6293
-3 DAYS
Arisa Merak wiped her eyes.
She’d just had a video chat with her husband. He was in his room at the compound in Therro. That was her first sign that he wasn’t doing well; he was never in his bedroom in the middle of a work day. Then there were Alvun’s eyes; they’d looked . . . grieved? No, that wasn’t quite it; she’d seen him look grieved plenty of times through the years.
Haunted. Yes, that was it. He’d looked haunted, and he wouldn’t tell her why. He said the project was going according to plan, and he seemed to be getting over the recent loss of two of his researchers.
What is it, my love? Why won’t you tell me?
Arisa’s eyes were drawn to a painting on their bedroom wall. It was of Ellin at six years old, a year before her death. The portrait artist had perfectly captured her stubbornness and vivacity. Twelve years after losing her daughter, Arisa could look at the painting and feel true joy, bittersweet though it was.
Her joy shifted to concern as Alvun returned to her thoughts. Therapists and emissaries had told Arisa over and over that there was no right or wrong way to grieve. Yet she’d always sensed that Alvun had never truly faced their loss. He rarely talked about Ellin’s death or his grief.
That haunted look in Alvun’s eyes—it must be related to Ellin. That would explain why he was unwilling to talk about it.
Arisa got out of bed and walked to her private chapel. She touched the panel on the wall. Soft light and soothing music filled the room. Ignoring the chair she usually sat on, she fell to her knees and brought her forehead down to rest on the thick carpet.
“God, how do I help him?” she whispered.
She waited in silence, not really expecting an answer. Almost immediately, an image entered her mind—a list of IDMs. She chuckled softly; she was terribly behind on her messages. Taking a deep breath, she gently refused the distracting thought, centering herself by whispering a phrase of scripture from the Sacrex.
The image returned. All those unread messages. “IDMs, God?” she asked. “Now?”
She couldn’t get the messages off her mind, so she stood and returned to her room, where she sat on her bed, firmed her flex, and pulled up her IDMs. Three messages from Emissary Thyri Tolgen caught Arisa’s eye. She opened the first one and read it.
Dear Ms. Merak,
* * *
I am on an extended sabbatical and believe I have received a divine message for your husband. While I am attempting to contact him as well, I am unsure whether he will see my IDM. Will you please pass this message on to him?
* * *
It is a passage from the Sacrex that I believe will encourage him in the good work he’s doing. You are welcome to read it as well; it’s in the link below.
* * *
There is no need to respond; it will be a month before I read any messages I receive.
* * *
Sincerely,
Thyri Tolgen
Following the emissary’s name was a link. Arisa clicked it and read the short scripture passage.
When you help those who are hungry, you bring nourishment to their bodies and to your own character.
* * *
When you aid the sick, you bring comfort to their bodies and to your own soul.
* * *
Truly blessed are those who bless their world.
Arisa blinked away tears. The message was perfect. Alvun did more for his fellow humans than anyone else she knew, yet he always feared it wasn’t enough. Perhaps she couldn’t heal his fatherly grief, but she could assure him that he was making Anyari a better place, just as he w
anted to.
She tapped on the screen and sent the message to her husband.
27
THURSDAY, CYGNI 4, 6293
-2 DAYS
I have to get out of here.
It was late, but Ellin’s eyelids might as well have been glued open. She couldn’t stop thinking. Judging from the roiling of her gut, that’s where the thoughts were percolating, rather than in her brain. She paced around her small space.
Even without her flex, she could picture the countdown. Two days. Making friends with Merak isn’t working. What do I do? Beg? No, I might lose his respect. Should I fight? No, he’ll win, and I’ll lose his trust.
Ellin stopped pacing and filled her lungs with air. There aren’t any good options, so I have to take risks. I’ll beg, then fight. That’s it. Beg. Then fight.
She sat on the cold floor with her legs in front of her, and leaned over, grabbing her toes. The stretch made her tense stomach hurt even more, but she leaned over farther. She had to be ready for Merak.
The bar on the door rattled. Ellin jumped up. Why’s he here at night? She tried to relax her shoulders. Act like a trusting young girl. Beg. Then fight.
As the heavy door swung open, a voice said, “Ellin?”
Ellin’s mouth went slack. “Rona?” The moment her eyes confirmed what her ears had heard, she started sobbing, and she threw herself into her sister’s open arms. As they held each other, one thought broke through Ellin’s delirious cries: We haven’t hugged like this since I was a little girl.
Then she saw that Rona wasn’t alone. Ellin let go of her sister and nearly knocked Trett down with the force of her embrace. He laughed, and his arms encircled her, squeezing her tight. She breathed in his scent and said, “You came.”
“We need to go,” Trett said. “He’s probably got cameras all over this place.”
The second Ellin’s feet crossed the freezer’s threshold into the warmth of the store, she began crying harder. She ripped off the hat Merak had given her and threw it to the floor.
Trett grasped her hand, leading her to the store’s back door. “It’s okay, we’re almost out of here.”
Outside, they ran through the darkness to where two hovs—one single, one double—waited behind scrubby bushes.
“Strip down,” Rona commanded her.
Ellin gaped at her. “What?”
“He’s probably got trackers in your clothes. We brought you new ones.” Rona reached into the cargo basket of the single hov and handed Ellin a bag.
Ellin changed as quickly as she could. The underwear were too small, the pants too short, and the shoes a smidge loose, but it would work for now. She was thrilled not to be wearing the clothes Merak had provided; she only wished she could burn them.
They all put on helmets. Rona took the single hov. Ellin sat on the dubhov behind Trett and held onto his waist. Both vehicles sped away, Rona in the lead. Trett rested a hand on Ellin’s arm.
Ellin laughed softly. “Your hand is so warm.”
His voice came through the speaker in her helmet. “Yeah, Merak set your climastat pretty low.”
“He said that was the highest it would go.”
Trett increased his speed, and Ellin barely heard his growled words: “He’s a lying asshole.”
They traveled over rough terrain, their hovs making automatic elevation adjustments to avoid rocks and small bushes. After perhaps a quarter hour, during which Ellin couldn’t think of anything other than how glad she was to be free and be with Trett, they reached a gravel road.
“Where are we going?” Ellin asked.
“We have a little apartment,” Trett said. “We haven’t been back to Merak’s camp since we realized you were gone. After what happened to Nomi and Sep, we were afraid Merak had taken you. We got new IDs and hunkered down in Krenner, trying to figure out where you were.”
Just as Ellin was about to ask how they’d found her, Rona spoke again, loud and firm this time. “Lights off, go off road.” She was already following her own instructions.
“Why?” Trett asked.
The dim light of a distant streetlamp illuminated Rona’s raised arm, pointing at the sky behind them. Ellin and Trett both turned. A glidecraft with a spotlight was coming their way.
Cursing, Trett switched off his hov’s lights. With a lurch, he accelerated sharply and followed Rona off-road. They stayed parallel to the road, far enough away to avoid the light pooling from streetlamps.
“I’m watching the glidecraft! You both focus on driving!” Ellin cried, holding Trett tightly as she wrenched her neck to keep her eyes on the sky behind them. “They’re gaining on us!” We can’t outrun them! We’ve got to find a place to hide!”
“We’re almost there!” Rona pointed ahead. “Faster!”
They were in the outskirts of Krenner, passing behind occasional buildings. The city proper, with crowds and places to hide, was still ahead. Ellin tightened her grip on Trett’s waist. “They’ll get to us before we reach the city!”
Rona didn’t respond, steering them back toward the road and turning her lights back on.
“What are you doing?” Trett cried. When Rona didn’t answer, he followed her, and in seconds, they were again flying over the street, which had been crushed gravel before and was now paved with smooth ecophalt. They sped past a couple of solarcars.
Still looking back, Ellin cried, “They’re right behind us—and I see a second one!” An instant later, light from the first craft illuminated them.
“Don’t stop!” Rona yelled.
“They’re coming down!” Ellin said.
The glidecraft was indeed descending, even as it passed overhead. They’d land and wait for their quarry. Behind, the second craft was closing in.
They were in the city now, with buildings all around. Rona kept her course arrow-straight. Ahead of them, the glidecraft set down in an intersection. The other craft was landing behind them, close enough that when Ellin looked back, she could see the “MERAK FOUNDATION” lettering on the front of the vehicle.
“Turn left!” Rona braked abruptly, and Trett did the same. They turned at a narrow street a block shy of where the first glidecraft had landed. Suddenly, they were among dozens of hovs and countless pedestrians.
They slowed down to match the creeping traffic. “Popular dance club on this street,” Rona said. “I’ve seen it in visions lately. It’s always crowded at night. Don’t look behind you, but there are Merak guards following us on hovs. They’ll try to get through all these people and reach us, but they won’t succeed.”
“Why not?” Ellin asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as Rona’s.
“Because we’re turning here—” Rona made a sharp right, and Trett followed. “And here—” She turned left. “And here.” They zoomed into a parking garage. “We lost them.”
“Are you sure?” Trett asked.
Rona’s odd little chortle came through the helmet speakers. “I’m always sure.”
They left the hovs in the garage. Rona led the way to a narrow alley between two buildings.
“Someone divided one small apartment into two tiny apartments,” Trett explained as Rona unlocked the door. “Ours is only accessible from the alley.”
Ellin walked in. Calling the place tiny was giving it too much credit. The front room, which included the kitchen and living room, was perhaps three-and-a-half mets square, furnished only by a small couch and a chair.
Rona caught Ellin’s eye. “I’m glad you’re safe.” Not waiting for a response, she turned and headed straight for a door at the back of the living room.
“I’d like to take a shower,” Ellin said.
“I’m sure you would, after being stuck in that room.” Trett gave her a sad smile and handed her a large bag. “These are more clean clothes in here, plus shoes in a few different sizes. I’ll wait for you. We have a lot to update each other on.”
The shower, while miniscule, boasted hot water, soap, and shampoo. After nearly two weeks of bathing w
ith reusable wipes and not washing her hair, Ellin didn’t think she’d ever felt a better sensation than that hot spray of water. She lathered herself up, rinsed off, and then stood in the warm current of air produced by the body dryer. When she used the toilet afterward and it actually flushed, she decided that was even more satisfying than the shower. She put on a pair of soft pants and a long-sleeved shirt. One pair of shoes was the proper size. She put them at the top of the stack so they’d be ready when she needed them.
As promised, Trett was waiting for her. The single couch was tiny. He scooted over and patted the cushion, and she sat. He handed her a glass of water.
“I’m surprised Rona doesn’t want to be part of this conversation,” Ellin said.
“She’s exhausted. She’s been having a lot of visions. Most of them are shrouded, so she can’t tell me about them, but she admits they’ve been stressing her out.”
“She admitted she’s stressed?”
Trett laughed softly. “It surprised me too.” His face turned somber. “I want to hear what happened, but I need to tell you something first.”
In a low voice, he told Ellin what they’d learned about Merak’s daughter.
Ellin pressed her lips together, shaking her head, determined not to cry. “That makes so much sense. He’s—he’s a terrible man, Trett. Still, there’s this part of me that wants to feel sorry for him, and I hate that.”
“I can’t even imagine what you went through in that little room. Do you want to tell me about it?”
She related her conversation with Merak in his office. Then she described the dig site and the freezer and falling in her own pee. She tried to laugh at that part, but it was forced. When Trett didn’t laugh, tears returned to her eyes. She took a deep breath and continued her monologue, telling of her monotonous days in captivity and her recent efforts to get Merak to trust her.
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 22