When the chaos stops, I am left standing just inside the factory doors, my back collapsed against a wall in a dim hallway. It’s the same one Edan led me through the first night. I remember the way the lights flickered. Cash is beside me, staring off toward the Infirmary, his chest rising and falling fast. There is nothing to say. Not now that Drew is fighting to live. All the weight of this night crashes on my shoulders. I insisted on coming, and maybe things would have been different if I’d stayed back. I want to say something, anything, to break the tension pressing on us. But all the words are meaningless.
My face twists, and I cover it with my hands. This feeling a living thing all in itself, full of rage and sadness. I want to control it, to keep from falling apart too quickly. But when Cash touches me, stands in front of me and pulls me against him, it only intensifies. It’s worse when his fingers grip at my clothes, and I know he’s feeling it too. There’s an angry quality to our hug, a kind of desperate clinging. My fingers grab onto his shirt, and I shut my eyes tight, breathing against the ache that’s filling my chest.
They were all dead…not one breathing.
“We’re losing them,” I whisper.
Cash’s arms tighten.
“I know,” he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck.
A soldier steps into the hall, calling us to come fast. We break apart, eyes connecting for only a second before we run to catch up. We’re led through the Infirmary to a far corner. They’ve partitioned it off, and we step around to see Drew laid out on a table. They’ve removed his wet clothes, and he lies on his stomach, covered in a thick blanket. On the other side of the table is Meli. She sits in a chair, elbows to her knees, and stares angry at her wounded comrade. When we enter, she rises to meet us.
“I don’t understand,” she says. “No one can tell me what happened!”
I walk past her to the table, my eyes stuck on the paleness of his skin—the way it contrasts with his red hair.
“We were cornered,” Cash says.
“He got us out,” I say, taking Drew’s hand. It’s cold. From the snow, I tell myself. “He saved a girl.” I turn to look at her. “An Outcast child. He was shot trying to get her to safety.”
Meli presses her hands to the table, her head falling forward. “His hero’s exit,” she murmurs.
“No,” I snap. “Not exit. They can fix this.”
“Hannah—” Cash whispers.
“I thought you knew,” Meli says softly. She holds my gaze, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her courage truly crack. “He doesn’t have long.”
I stare at her for a long time.
I’m stuck in a daze, somewhere between exhaustion and grief. I stand by Drew’s bed, and all the strength is pouring out of me.
There is a girl named Alice, I’m thinking. With blond hair who is sweet to others. I think of all the things Drew said about her, and I can almost imagine her face. She bakes soufflés and wins the hearts of red-haired soldiers from the South. Tonight, she’ll be a widow. I wonder if she’ll know. I’ve heard some people feel it.
I lean close to Drew’s ear.
“You’re a hero,” I whisper. I kiss his forehead, sorrow squeezing at my throat.
“Excuse me,” a quiet voice says from the entry. It’s a soldier. He motions for Cash, and the two step out into the main room.
“It was his dream, you know,” Meli says. “The only way he wanted to die was doing something important. Any other death would be a waste.”
I don’t answer because my mind is having trouble accepting this. We were just together—just running through the alleys and climbing walls. I feel like I imagined it all. I can’t seem to ground myself in reality.
Cash steps into the space again, and our eyes meet. Something is wrong.
“I need you to come with me,” he says.
My gaze settles on Drew again. He’s slipping away, barely conscious now. My nose burns, because I’m trying to keep myself together, and not crying hurts. I drop to my knees so my face is near his. I want to say something meaningful, but my mind is tired.
“Goodbye,” I whisper. In my memory, I see his wide grin and the way his eyes tease. He laughed the most—more than anyone.
I hug Meli, and before I pass through the exit, Cash murmurs, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
When I glance back, he’s leaning over Drew. He says quiet words, one soldier to another, and I have to turn away.
I wait in the dim hall, where Workers lean into one another, sleeping. My clothes are filthy and snow-drenched. My skin beneath the fabric is raw. I peel off Cash’s coat and mine beneath it, desperate to leave some piece of tonight behind me. The air in here is cold.
Cash exits the Infirmary and crosses to me.
“Something happened while we were gone,” he says.
Immediately I’m imagining all the worst things. I wait for the explanation, but he’s hesitating. I wish he wouldn’t, because dozens of scenarios are playing out in my mind, and I’m too tired to make them quit. He stands with his hands on his hips, head hanging forward. When he looks at me, dark shadows sit under his eyes. His gaze shifts to my arm, where bloody fabric is wrapped tight around the bullet wound.
“It’s fine,” I say when his fingers touch my elbow. He nods. I know we aren’t done talking about it, but right now there’s something else—something he doesn’t want to say. I’m thinking of Ben now. And Aspen.
“Cash…”
“It’s Lockwood,” he says, but I don’t understand.
“Is he—”
“He’s alive,” Cash says. He steps closer to me, and his eyebrows are low. I watch the way he bites his mouth, deciding which words to say next.
“Please tell me,” I say. The words come quiet, because I already feel the weight of whatever it is.
“He was caught sending messages to Commander Sterling,” he says. “His last messages detailed our plans tonight.”
I’m shaking my head, because this doesn’t make sense. Maybe too much has happened, and I can’t reason it out. Ian saved me. He rescued me from the cells. He wouldn’t do this.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. He’s confessed to everything.” He steps back and wipes a hand down his face. His eyes meet mine again, and I know he’s waiting. But I can’t respond when I’m being gutted. That’s how this feels. Trust is deep, and to lose it means carving it out.
“Where is he?”
“The brick room.”
The blanket over the Infirmary door is pushed aside, and Meli steps out. Her skin is pale and her eyes wet. When she sees me she stops, and words aren’t needed. Even though I knew it was coming, Drew’s death knocks the wind out of me.
Ian. Kind eyes. Dark and Trustworthy.
But our friend is dead now, and he shouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be…if Ian hadn’t betrayed us.
I turn and sprint.
23
Cash doesn’t stop me, but maybe he should. Every running step I take fuels a growing rage in me, and I don’t know what will happen. Drew is dead. He wasn’t, but now he is. And Ian is to blame.
People scurry out of my way, falling against the wall or ducking out of my path.
At the brick room, two guards flank the doorway. One holds a hand out.
“I can’t let you in there, Ms. Bakker,” he says. His eyes skirt mine, and maybe it’s because they’re bright red. I bet my nose is too. And my cheeks. That’s because I’m wind-chapped and wounded. I’m sleep-deprived…and I’m angry.
I don’t look at him either. Instead I stare at the door and say, “Open it.”
“I’m under orders to keep this door closed—”
“Open the door!”
“Let her in,” Cash says behind me. It almost cracks my resolve. His words are laced with concern.
“Sir, with respect—”
“Solomon will understand,” Cash says calmly. “Tell him I ordered you.”
There’s a long pause, but I don’t look up. If I shift my gaze to another human, all t
he anger I feel will melt into tears. The guard unlocks the door and swings it open.
“I better not get in trouble for this,” he mutters.
“Might wanna plug your ears then,” Meli retorts.
Inside, the table is shoved out of the way, laid flat against the wall. On another wall rests a simple chair, and Ian sits on it, head in his hands. He looks up when we enter, and I feel a cracking deep in my chest. He’s foreign to me, like someone I might have known once. Guilt is pulling at his features, rearranging everything until I don’t recognize him. But I will know his voice when he talks. It’s the one that gave me hope in the cells.
He stands when the door is closed, his uneasy eyes settling on Cash. The silence makes my skin crawl, so I decide to end it.
“How could you do it?” I say. My voice doesn’t sound as angry as I feel. I make a mental note of it for the next words.
“Hannah, listen…” He says it, but no other words come out. I’m listening, waiting for the explanation, but he’s just standing there. He gets to stand. And Drew is dead.
Then it occurs to me that he doesn’t know.
“I didn’t want to,” he’s saying, stepping toward me. “But I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I say to him, fists clenched at my sides. “Always.”
He runs a hand over his head. Down the back of his neck. “You don’t understand—”
“Drew is dead!”
The words fly out before I mean to say them. Even I’m shocked to silence, and we’re all left standing in the echo. A few tears leak from my eyes, but I swallow and glare, trying to control it. Restraining all these pent-up screams feels more dangerous than letting them free. Ian’s mouth falls open, and his gaze shifts nervous between our faces.
“Cassidy’s dead?”
Someone must nod. I know I didn’t. But Ian drops to the chair again and resumes his position with his face in his hands.
It makes me angrier for some reason.
“Why?” I demand again. “Why did you do it?”
“It was just to get Gray,” he says into his hands. “They needed someone on the inside—”
“And you volunteered,” Meli says, spitting the words like venom.
“No!” He stands fast and meets my eyes. Looks at Cash. All his movements are pleading. “But you trusted me so much, and they knew that—”
“Do you even hear yourself? I trusted you!”
“I would never have let them kill you, Hannah! I got you out—”
“You used me! You know Cash is important! You know the resistance needs him.”
“I didn’t—I know you don’t think so, but I didn’t have a choice—”
I explode, jumping forward and shoving him. “Liar!”
He stumbles back but doesn’t react. He keeps his hands at his sides and takes it when I shove him again, an angry cry flying from my mouth. Cash hauls me out of reach but lets go as soon as I stop trying to free myself.
Ian hangs his head and says, “They have my brother.”
Silence again. My hands fall slow to my sides, my breaths heavy. He’s crying now. He doesn’t hold it back the way I am. He lets it free, and I can’t look at him.
“They’ll kill him,” he whispers. “If they don’t get Gray, they’ll kill my brother.”
I turn around. It’s easier than seeing his pain. I’m ashamed that I can’t look at him, but I’m feeling too many things. Cash is there when I turn, and I stare at his face, all my body tense. I understand all the things he’s saying to me in this look. He’s telling me to slow down. To breathe. He’s saying that this is the valley, and these are the things the Council does to command obedience. He knows it better than anyone.
I drop my gaze and walk out the door.
I know the second I leave that I’m wrong to do it. I tell myself to go back, but my feet don’t stop until I’ve found an empty room to hide in. It’s full of clothing bins and thrown away office supplies. Inside, my back falls against the door, and I slide down until I’m sitting.
I can hear things happening in the hall—people talking and babies crying. It’s a steady noise, never quieting to give me just one minute to think. I just need one minute to breathe, and then I might be okay. I press my hands to my ears.
I could forgive Ian. The threat on his brother does change things. There are worse things people have done for family. But Drew is dead, and I can’t get around the pain Alice will feel when she learns of it.
I glare at nothing, breathing down the anger in slow, measured exhales. But then I remember Drew’s laugh, the way he threw his head back when Meli teased him, and I’m on my feet. I lift an empty box from the floor and throw it hard at the wall. It doesn’t do enough to ease the pressure building in my chest, so I grab another and throw it at the stack of bins in the corner. An angry noise flies from my mouth, and I hate the sound of it. It is helpless and useless, and that’s how I feel.
I fall against the door again and stare at a point on the wall, quiet tears wetting my face. I cry until I’m empty, and when my breathing slows, I’m left staring into the room, numb.
“Hannah.”
It’s Cash’s voice, quiet and at my level through the door. I should answer.
I expect him to say something else—maybe my name again. But for a couple minutes there is nothing but silence.
I rise, but when my fingers touch the doorknob, my eyes close. I want Drew to be alive, but I know he isn’t.
The door opens slow, and Cash is sitting with his back against it. He twists to look up at me, eyes tender and worried. But he didn’t force his way in. He let me sort my feelings alone. Just now, looking down at him and bearing all this pain between us, I know I love him for it.
He’s slow standing. Now that we aren’t running to stay alive, our bodies are tired and stiff. At his full height, he steps closer, creating a separation from the rest of the people around us. At first he’s just looking at me, and I’m looking somewhere near his chin.
Quietly he says, “He chose wrong. I know what that feels like.”
“It’s not the same—”
“No.”
Our eyes meet.
“What I did was much worse.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know that. If he did this, who’s to say he isn’t responsible for the barrier? Or the fire?”
“I don’t believe he is,” Cash says. “Lockwood was wrong. And he betrayed our trust. But his heart is good. I don’t doubt that.”
He says it so easily, and it makes me feel foolish. Forgiving Cash was a simple thing. That night on the roof, I didn’t hesitate, because I saw the truth of him in his eyes. With Ian, what he did was personal. And it feels worse to be the one betrayed. But I know Cash is right. And if he can forgive this, maybe I should too.
“Come on,” he says, touching my elbow. “Time to bandage that arm.”
I look down at it—at the bloody fabric and the tight knot holding it in place. Drew did that.
24
When my eyes open, Aspen’s red hair is the first thing I see. I spent an hour with Ben before the nurse told me to get some sleep. I didn’t want to leave him, but she made me.
Aspen lies on the mattress beside me, taking more than her share of room just like she always did. I don’t mind. I prefer her near me. When I shift to stretch, she turns over to look at me. There’s still something missing from her expression; the light is still dim in her eyes.
“That night,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have let them do what they did.”
“It was you against grown men,” I say to her, my face resting on the pillow. “Soldiers. I don’t blame you for what happened.”
She nods, and moisture pools in her eyes.
“Oh, Aspen,” I murmur. “How did you get involved with them?”
She sniffs. “One of the boys…Simon…he told me. I guess I thought it sounded better than sitting around here doing nothing.”
Her face contorts, like s
he’s hit with a sudden burst of pain, but only for a second. Tears slip from her eyes, but she’s quick to gather herself.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” I whisper. She nods again, closing her eyes against more tears.
“They all are,” she says.
“But how did you get out?”
“A few of us got out where the wall had fallen,” she says. “It was damaged in the explosion.”
“Jace?”
“Yeah. And two others. I don’t remember their names. But they were slow. I think one was shot already.”
I wait in the quiet, hoping she’ll go on; I don’t want to push her. Aspen rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling.
“Jace had me,” she says. “But he got shot in the leg.”
She chews her lips for a few seconds, then says, “We got halfway back, but he was bleeding too much. The Watchers were really fast. They have trucks, and we were walking.”
She looks over at me, and her eyes are wide, full of fear.
“What happened, Aspen?” I touch her hand and don’t move it when her fingers grab on to mine.
“He tried to kill me,” she says, fresh tears springing from her eyes. “He said if we couldn’t get away, it was better to die than be captured. I kicked his leg and ran. I just ran.”
I stare at her, stunned. What she went through was so much worse than I imagined.
“You’re so brave,” I whisper. She shakes her head, but I stop her.
“Even before,” I say. “You were always the brave one.”
It’s a long time before either of us speaks again. We’ve experienced too much, and words don’t feel big enough. Then I remember the book of pictures in my backpack, and I may know how to help her.
“I have to show you something,” I say, grabbing my bag. When I dig for the book, my hands brush the green dress. I’d forgotten about it. I will never wear it in this place.
Aspen shifts until she’s sitting. I settle beside her again and hand her the book. She eyes me curiously.
The Slave Series Page 36