Resurrection

by Katherine Macdonald

  We head back around noon, hungry and eager for a proper meal. The mess hall serves us nicely. Joni and Bullet join us, trying to teach Xaph the proper way to use a knife and fork. He does not seem to understand the point, and keeps shovelling it into his mouth with his fingers.

  I take him back to Julia’s to clean him up afterwards. It’s closer than the showers and he needs more than a simple splash in the sink. Mi is there, conversing with Julia in a hushed voice. They both look very serious, very pale. Julia looks like she’s holding back tears.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Is everyone all right? Is someone–”

  “No, no, everyone’s fine,” Julia assures me, getting up. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Mi swallows. “I’m going on a mission,” he says. “Out of town. I’ll be gone at least a week. Maybe two.”

  “A week?” I screech. Mi has barely been out of town for a day, and on a mission–

  “It’s very low-risk,” he assures me. “For me, at least. I’m just going as a medic. No action at all, I swear it.”

  We may all be brilliant liars, but Mi rarely utilises this aspect of his training. He may skirt around the truth, he may ask not to be questioned, but he nevers lies unless to avoid causing someone pain. But there is something in his voice, his demeanour, that doesn’t quite mesh. Something he’s not quite saying.

  “You promise you won’t be fighting?”

  “I promise.”

  “And you won’t be alone?”

  “I will not.”

  “And you’ll come back to me in one piece?”

  “Unless the car crashes on the way back, yes.”

  I nod. “OK then.”

  Mi grins weakly. “Do I need to address the hypocrisy of me not getting any such guarantee when you’re off galavanting?”

  “Hey, I’m grounded, remember? No more danger for me!”

  “When has that ever stopped you?”

  It seems unlikely that I’ll stay out of danger long, it’s true. How many times did he patch me up before we joined Phoenix? Mind you, back then I was a thief-for-hire, a job I’m reluctant to turn back to. We need some kind of proper income, though. Mi rarely works at Baz the butcher’s any more, now that he’s Julia’s apprentice. Hunting only brings in so much. It’s not reliable.

  “When do you leave?” I ask.

  “Soon. Time is of the essence.”

  I don’t like the speed of this, but I try to hide it in my voice. “Need any help packing?”

  He shakes his head. “No. But if you could tell the others where I’m gone…”

  “Sure.” I hold up my squirrel. “Guess I’m cooking this guy myself tonight.”

  “Don’t forget the seasoning!”

  “I won’t!”

  I head home alone and skin the rodent myself, hanging him up for later. I compost his entrails and clean the skin. You can’t get much for a squirrel pelt, especially during this season, but every little helps. I can always save it for winter.

  I decide to go and pick Ben up from school, but halfway down the stairs, I meet Scarlet. Her cheeks are flushed like she’s been running… or else she feels embarrassed by something.

  “Scarlet!” I halt. “Mi’s not here, he’s–”

  “Yeah, I know, he told me,” she pants. “It’s just… did he seem off to you?”

  “A bit. Yeah. Why?”

  “I kinda got the feeling he was…”

  “Lying?”

  “Yeah.”

  I chew my lip. “Mi… Mi doesn’t lie. Generally speaking.”

  “I know. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t lying. But… but he wasn’t being entirely truthful, either.”

  “Should we be worried?”

  “I’m not sure. Rudy said he sanctified it. He’s not lying about the mission.”

  “Do you think he’s lying about the level of danger?”

  Scarlet narrows her eyes. “If he is, I’ll kill him.”

  “You really love him, don’t you?”

  “In the sense that I want to murder him frequently but would also murder anyone who hurt him, yes.”

  “Why do you want to murder him?”

  “For making me like him so goddamn much.” She groans, running her hands through her spiked hair. “Love sucks, doesn’t it? Even when you’re there and it’s right and the person loves you back, it still sucks. The sheer and utter terror and powerlessness that comes with it.”

  I sigh. “Can’t argue there.”

  Scarlet looks down at her feet guiltily, no doubt realising what she’s just said, who she’s said it to. “How… how are you? Are you doing OK?”

  “I… I’m getting better, I think. It doesn’t hurt as much any more.”

  “You… you and Gabe seem to be getting close.”

  “We’ve always been close.”

  “But it’s different now.”

  “Yeah,” I admit, “it’s different now.”

  “Does that help at all?”

  “To begin with, it made it ten times worse. Now… now it’s not worse.”

  “Sometimes, in this world, I think that’s all we can hope for,” Scarlet says sagely. “For things not to be worse.”

  “And that’s why this world needs to change.”

  “Can’t argue there.”

  We stand there for a moment in easy silence.

  “Ashe?” she says.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re going to do it, you know. We’re going to make this world better.”

  I smile at her, believing, just for a second, in the strength of words. Her conviction will make it happen. I will find a way to help her.

  But there is another thought, a darker one. The knowledge that yes, we are going to make this world better, but we could just as easily die trying.

  Chapter 54

  Mi’s absence fills the loft. The place seems empty, voluminous, without him whistling in the kitchen each morning. Gabe’s presence does nothing to abate the space he’s left behind. Our family is still missing one member.

  I go back to Julia’s as instructed, and we talk some more about everything. There’s less tears than before, although I leave it feeling slightly exposed, like I’ve pulled off a bandage while the skin underneath was still healing. It makes me want Mi even more.

  Halfway through the week, Gabe and I sit up on the roof after the others have gone to bed. We don’t say much. We don’t need to. We just dangle our legs over the edge, our heads bent together, focusing on the sunset. We think of nothing and everything. When the sky darkens, and night falls, we inch back from the ledge, lie on our backs, and stare at the stars. We feel very small, no more than acorns on the forest floor, tiny and insignificant. We press our knees and arms together and drift off beneath that dark ocean. We are children again, but children that are free and, for a moment, cut loose of everything that shackles them to the Earth.

  He is gone by morning. There's a coldness beside me where his warmth once was. I suppose it would raise too many questions now, if we were caught together sleeping.

  Caught.

  The word makes it seem like we were doing something bad, something wrong. But does it matter if we sleep together this way? Does it matter if we do anything more?

  There was a moment when I wanted to…

  But do I want to because I miss Nick, or I want Gabe? I wonder if he can feel all of this, this tangled web of emotions inside me. Maybe that’s why he left.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, I find him making breakfast. No one else is up yet. I help myself to a slightly stale roll and pick at it. Gabe is a blank slab. I can sense nothing from him.

  “Do you ever wonder… why you and I can read each other like we do?”

  Gabe stops stirring the eggs, just for a moment. “Why are you wondering this now?”

  Because it never seemed strange when we were growing up. You had always been there. It never seemed strange or–

  “You wish you had more control over it.” Gabe states.

>   “I… I wish I didn’t have to hurt you, by thinking things I don’t–”

  “Mean?”

  “By... thinking things I don’t want to feel. That I have no control over. Don’t… don’t you think it’s strange, that we can feel each other's thoughts?”

  “You can shoot fire from your hands.”

  “Because they made me that way. But how can you… how can you make a connection between two people? Don’t you wonder?”

  “Yes,” he says stonily, “but I have my own answers.”

  “And?”

  “I always hoped it was just because we belonged together.”

  I freeze, because I don’t know what to say to this. I don’t even know what to think, what to feel. Because while of course Gabe belongs with us, of course we have a connection, his words just remind me of Adam, of the Institute, of choices being ripped away from me.

  Gabe buckles. “You’re afraid.”

  “Adam… Adam said something similar.”

  “I am not Adam.”

  “No, no, of course you’re not, I didn’t mean–”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I mean… I mean that…”

  A sleepy voice murmurs from the side of the room. “Why are we fighting?” Ben exits his alcove, wrapped in a sheet.

  “We’re not fighting,” I assure him, coming forward to ruffle his hair. “I’m just cross at something somebody else said, and am struggling to explain it properly.”

  “Oh. What did somebody else say?”

  “Nothing worth repeating.”

  “I made eggs,” Gabe announces, coming forward with a steaming pan. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Scrambled! Yummy. My favourite. Thanks Gabe. I love you.”

  Gabe hands Ben a plate almost numbly. It’s the first time Ben has said this to him since he returned, not that Ben seems to realise this. He digs into his breakfast with vigour, ignoring the look of shock slapped across Gabe’s face. He glances up only to ask us if we’re joining him.

  Abi slips in last, soundlessly helping herself. None of us aside from Ben are particularly animated. Mi’s empty chair seems to rattle.

  ◆◆◆

  As promised, Gabe and I take Xaph out into the wilderness together a few days later. We pack something of a picnic; a bit of goat’s cheese, some tomatoes, a hunk of bread. It makes a decent meal, particularly when we pair it with freshly-caught fish from the lake. Fires are a lot easier to start than they used to be.

  “Look at him,” says Gabe, as Xaph splashes about the shallows. “He loves it here.”

  “So do I. I should bring the others out here. Wilderness training isn’t a bad idea.”

  “You’ve never thought about trying to make it out here?”

  “Sure. But then winter comes along.”

  “We’re tough enough to weather it.”

  “We’re tough enough to weather anything,” I insist. “That doesn’t mean we should have to. I know the slums are a bit rough. I know there’s dangers. But there’s good things too. Trade. Education. People.”

  “I’m not exactly particularly fond of other people.”

  “They grow on you.”

  Gabe is silent.

  “Gabe?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know… I know things between us aren’t exactly as… clear, as perhaps you’d like them to be, but… please don’t leave us.”

  He blinks. “What?”

  “Don’t leave us. I know… I know the city isn’t your favourite place. I know you’re still adjusting. I know… I know there might be more desirable options. Here, or with Sia–”

  “You think I could leave you?”

  “I think sometimes you want to.”

  He says nothing. How can he? I already know how he feels. And he knows how I feel. That sometimes it would be simpler not to.

  But I don’t want him gone. No, God, anything but that.

  ◆◆◆

  We take Xaph back to base via the scenic route, careful to avoid the prying eye of the guard. I wonder if there will ever be a time when Xaph doesn’t have to hide, when he can live freely amongst regular folk. Maybe Gabe is right. Maybe he, at least, would be better off out here.

  But I can’t imagine him leaving Julia, and lovely as it is during the day, there are plenty of wild things that come out at night. Xaph is fast, but I don’t think he’s a fighter.

  Maybe he'd be happier with Sia and Dell. Did we ask him? Did we give him the choice?

  “Don’t,” says Gabe, as we exit the compound.

  “What?”

  “You don’t need to worry about Xaph. He isn’t your responsibility.”

  He feels like he is. Then again, I bet Julia feels this way too. Maybe I should let her shoulder this one.

  “All right.”

  He grins, satisfied my concerns have been elevated. He glances up. “Fancy a run through the city?”

  “In broad daylight? With the guards around? Bit risky.”

  “That’s what makes it more fun.”

  Gabe is not, by nature, much of a risk taker, but I like the glint in his eyes and don’t want to lose it. I want to share the space above with him. I rarely free-run with the others. Nearest I’ve come to it is with the other chimeras, and that was for training. I’ve never been with Abi, Mi or Ben. Mi struggles with leaping off buildings, Abi cares little for it, and Ben... well, I didn't want to give him my permission to do anything dangerous. I have never shared my command of the city with anyone, and yet…

  “Of course.”

  We do not need to say anything else. We are already moving, hurtling up the nearest fire escape, leaping onto the lower building below, across rooftops, across alleys and abandoned parking lots.

  I do not need to worry that I am moving too quickly. I never once need to look behind. Gabe keeps perfect pace with me, at my side the entire time. My equal, my other half. How many times had I run this route, imagining him beside me, talking to him as if he were there? Now he is, and any strangeness I felt previously is forgotten in this moment.

  We stop when we reach the other side of the slums, close to home, away from the bustle of the marketplace, other people. We have run out of places to go. Uncharted wilderness stretches ahead. Everything looks wider, sharper, larger tonight, as if I am seeing it for the first time. The sky is on fire.

  “You like it here, don't you?” Gabe says.

  “I've come to see a certain beauty in it lately,” I admit, “and I've always preferred it to the Institute. Don't you?”

  “What little I've seen of it, yes.” He leans over, and strokes a lock of hair behind my ear. This is not a familiar action; my hair was so short at the Institute that there was nothing to stroke back. This is new.

  His lips fall to mine, but I jerk back slightly. Gabe groans.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I just–”

  “What’s wrong? I can feel you. I can feel everything. I know you enjoy it, I know you–”

  “It’s difficult to explain–”

  “We belong together, Eve!”

  “I don't belong to anyone!” I hiss, pulling away. “And my name is Ashe!” I head for the stairs. There’s no fire escape here, and it’s a bit tall to jump from. I hop down to the next level. Gabe follows.

  “I didn't... I didn't mean that,” he says, more softly this time. “I mean... you must know what I mean. I don't ever remember not knowing you. We grew up together. Everything that I am is tied up in you; mind, body and soul. How can that mean nothing?”

  I pause for a moment. “It doesn't mean nothing. It just means something different.”

  Gabe reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers feather-light. I am reminded of who he was, in this touch. Who we both were. My other hand in the dark.

  “I know you love him,” he continues. “Perhaps a part of you always will. But you love me, too. You’ve always loved me. We knew the feeling before we knew the word. How many people can honestly say that? I have lov
ed you my entire life. I will die, loving you. Please, be with me. Everything can be as it was before.”

  “It doesn’t… I don’t… life doesn’t move backwards.”

  “Then let’s move it forwards.” He closes the gap between me and slides his lips against mine. His hands wrap around my waist. Gabe is right; I do like this. I feel smaller, lighter, cocooned inside his arms, but the heaviness of his kisses groan against me.

  “Tell me you don’t want me,” he murmurs into my neck.

  Impossible.

  “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  I have always loved you.

  “Tell me to leave.”

  Don’t go, don’t ever leave. Not again. Please.

  It is easy to kiss a person you don’t want to live without. It is easy to love someone you’re afraid of losing. It is easy to cling to someone who’s slipped away before.

  It is still not easy to forget Nick, but each of Gabe’s kisses seems to burn away the old sensation of that gentle, ephemeral touch. Each caress is new and endless and wonderful. It is possible, just for a moment, not to compare. It is possible to enjoy.

  I seize Gabe’s collar and smash him against a nearby wall, so hard that plaster cracks from the ceiling. He grunts, but everything else in him is urging me onwards. He slides his hands down my thighs and I jump at the same time he lifts me up, crashing me against an old desk.

  “Tell me what to do,” he murmurs above me. “What would you like me to do?”

  I pull his face towards me. “Don’t hold back,” I whisper.

  His strength mirrors mine. There is no need for either of us to be soft, gentle, careful. I could even set myself aflame and Gabe would barely feel a thing, or be able to jump back in time. He wouldn't be frightened, he wouldn’t be hurt. I cannot hurt him.

  And inwardly, there’s another feeling. How much he loves me. His utmost devotion. He would never hurt me.

  The building, however, is another matter. We destroy it in our urgency to free ourselves of clothes, to try to join our bodies together in the way our minds are already. This is natural, normal, freeing.