The kid clenched his jaw hard and shook his head, tension coming off of him in waves.
“All right then. I’ll tell you what I think is going on with you, and you can just tell me where I get things wrong…. I think the whole time you were at that orphanage the other kids made your life a living hell. They taunted you and called you names and it hurt, but you couldn’t do a thing about any of it”
The boy’s face was flushed, but he didn’t try to run from him.
Max took a deep breath and trained his eyes on the kid, holding his gaze. “I think you didn’t have one friend in the world, not one person you could share anything with, and that ultimately, you chose to be alone because of it, and you haven’t learned how not to be yet. I heard what you said about your roommate, so I know they beat you, too, badly, I would imagine, and for whatever reason, you didn’t fight back and it bothers you still that you didn’t….”
He could see the muscles moving in the kid’s jaw, his eyes wet, but still on his, and he felt bad for putting him through this but felt he had to, that it was the only way.
“You think it makes you weak that you let them do this to you. It makes you feel like a coward… and every time someone touches you, and you flinch it just makes it worse for you. It hurts you in ways that you don’t understand or know how to fix. I’m going to guess about last night. Selena likes you. She has for a time, by the looks of it, and she knows you like her too, can see it on you. She told you last night and it scared you worse than anything, and you didn’t know what to do with it, with how you felt, so you ran—”
“You need to let me go, Max. We’re done here. I’m not telling you anything. Not now, not ever. It’s none of your business…. I’ll do what I need to for my father when we get there and I won’t risk myself again, you have my word on that, but we’re done!” he said, voice shaky. Max could see tears pooling in the kid’s eyes, his hands curled into fists so hard they had to be hurting, but the boy stood stock-still in front of him, not dropping his eyes.
Max felt him move to step away from him, only he still had him by the shoulders, so the kid just teetered comically on his feet, his face contorting unpleasantly into full-on adolescent rage.
Max didn’t budge, kept holding him, looking at his face, and the kid lost control then. It would have been comical if not for the hurt that even the boy’s rage couldn’t mask on his face. But he let him flail and let his fists land on him. The kid was stronger than he looked and Max was pretty sure some of the blows would leave bruises.
He hoped the boy would do something like this, hoped he’d let it out however he needed to. He let go of Telan’s shoulders, letting him hit him, but the kid dropped his hands and put his head down, looking helpless and ashamed.
Max hoped the kid wouldn’t hate himself too much for this outburst. But mostly, that he wouldn’t try to run again.
Telan lifted his head, serious gray eyes looking at him. “I didn’t fight back, but it wasn’t because I was afraid to…. That’s not true. I was afraid, the first few times, but after that, when I chose not to fight them, it wasn’t fear anymore. I wanted to fight back, but I wouldn’t let myself. I thought they were right to hate me, Max, so I let them because of that. I was the only one like this, a freak, and I never completely believed the story they told me about the mutation. It didn’t matter why I was different, I just knew that I was. I don’t think I would have fit in there even if my eyes weren’t like this, is what I’m saying. But you’re right, about all the rest of it. I’m sorry for last night, for scaring you,” Telan said in a calm, quiet voice.
Max didn’t see this coming at all, didn’t expect a confession out of him. He asked him softly to sit and warmed up his breakfast for him. Telan took the plate and ate silently, looking at the flames, not saying a word until he was done.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Max nodded and crouched in front of him.
“Have you ever loved somebody? Not your son, I mean…. A girl?” He seemed embarrassed, his face flushed, eyes darting down.
“I have. I still do. I lost her a long time ago but I still love her.” He felt the familiar pang of guilt and pain in his chest. He pushed it down, doing his best not to show it on his face.
The kid seemed puzzled, looking distractedly at the flames again, biting his lip. “Is it supposed to hurt when you like somebody?” he asked finally, in a small whisper, and he couldn’t help but smile at him, a full-on grin, the kid looking even more embarrassed now.
“It is, Telan. It is absolutely supposed to feel like that and worse. But it’s the best kind of hurt in the world.” He stood up, shook loose grass off his boot.
Telan stood too, looking at him like he wasn’t done.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“I need to ask you something, and I’m not exactly sure how to,” the kid whispered, eyes darting down again.
Max took a step toward him and waited silently, and finally snapped at him to just spill it, whatever it was.
Telan looked up at him, nodded. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I’d rather you didn’t say anything about this to anybody,” he said very quietly, eyes trained on the blades of grass again.
“I gave you my word on that before. I fully intend to keep it,” Max said sharply and walked away, toward the river, letting the kid be.
Selena looked up at him and smiled, eyes glittering warm amber from the middle. She reminded him of Brody’s Laurel when he first met her, soft and wise and kind to everybody. There was something magical about her, something that spoke of wisdom one could only be born with. Every time she looked at him he felt like she could see through him, that she could feel every shift of emotion in the people around her. She stood up, lifting the net out of the water, smiling wider now, and she had a reason to. There were a few crabs and three large trout frantically trying to get out of their mesh prison. As good a meal as these kids likely ever had.
They walked back to the fire in silence for a while. They were halfway back to the fire when he stopped and faced her.
“He doesn’t think he deserves you, or anybody, I think…. Him living like he was for so many years, being called all those names, it did something to him, something that’ll likely take a while to undo is all. Just give him time,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t feel so bad about Telan taking off on her like that. Max walked on ahead of her, not wanting to see the hurt on her face. He glanced back at her when he could smell and see the smoke, and of all things, the girl was smiling at him. He stopped, confused.
“I already knew all of that, Max. You don’t need to tell me anything. I know how he is, always have, I think. And I think it’ll take him less time than you think. He’ll be all right, is what I’m saying, so stop worrying about him. You have fear and concern for him written all over you” —she took a step toward him, all the smiles gone from her face now—“but I do need to know something.”
He nodded to her.
“His father… how could he do that? How could he give him up like that?”
He owed it to this girl, so he told her as much as he could about Lancer and how he was. Told her more than he told Telan, and he felt all right about doing it. It was a relief to tell someone, and this girl was good, he knew that from the first, from when she wouldn’t shake his hand or take his gun afterward.
She listened in silence, face serious, and then threw her arms around him. “Thank you, for telling me. He is just like him, you know, though they never knew each other. I think I might like all those people you’re taking us to. I think I might want to stay with you after all,” she said, and ran off to the fire, not making any noise, the net bouncing, spraying water through the holes as she ran.
Max watched her run, walking slowly now to give her time to say a few words to Telan in private if she needed to, and he caught himself smiling at these two kids, at how genuinely good they were, even with all the horrible stuff that happened to them, and for the first ti
me in months, he let himself believe that it would all work out for them and for his friend. That he could keep everybody safe and alive and ultimately, that there’d be no more freaks; that no kid would ever have to live with that ugly word thrown at them in some orphanage or worse, be put down like a rabid dog. Like Trina. And not for the first time, he felt grateful to Lancer for not shooting him that night so many years ago. Grateful for every day he got to spend with Brody and the other kids, and for every Zoriner and half-breed kid they saved since.
Selena and the boy were not at the fire when he got there, likely talking it out in private in some clearing. Max found the girl’s catch on the grass a few feet away from the fire and went about filleting the fish and getting the rest of the stuff together for lunch. He worked quickly, but calmly, enjoying the simple tasks. And after a few minutes, he caught himself humming to himself, Drake-like. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that, and it made him wish Lancer were here to jab at him over it.
5
Betrayal
Lancer, June 14, 2244, Reston, Med Wing.
He knew Riley would be sitting in that old-fashioned overstuffed chair before he opened his eyes, could feel his presence. Riley seemed to spend all his time in this room lately and it made Lancer feel guilty. Made him feel as if he were stealing something important from him.
“Let me guess, Riley. The last of the Eagles found us and the whole city has been destroyed all over again, only you magically survived to make sure I don’t unplug my bloody chemo,” he spat at him.
Riley didn’t take the bait, as usual.
Lancer opened his eyes and stared at him, noting the underslept, rugged look to him, a stubble of a beard on his cheeks. Riley stopped taking care of himself ever since Ams took off with that guy from engineering over half a year ago now, long enough for him to have gotten over it, only it was obvious from just looking at him that he hadn’t.
“You look like shit, Riley, and I mean it in the nicest possible way. I’m still hoping that you’ll introduce me to someone before I die, kid, or I’ll hound you half to death from the other side, and that’s a bloody promise….”
Lancer tried to sit up, but the restraints around his wrists and waist kept him solidly in place. He kept forgetting about the damn straps. “You know, in the old days, people were allowed to pass into the night with some dignity instead of what you’re making me go through, for no good reason, I might add. We all know this isn’t going to work, and you’re making me spend what little time I got left tied up and injecting me with poison. It pisses me off.” He shook his head and swallowed the dryness in his throat, and then looked at Riley’s tired face again. “I’d like to sit up and maybe have a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”
Riley was on his feet and out the door without a word.
Lancer leaned his head back on the pillow, hating how tired he felt from just talking, how entirely useless his body was. He’d rather someone put a bullet in his head than this, but there wasn’t one person here who’d do that for him. Max maybe, but Max was inexplicably gone. He’d likely have to do it himself eventually, the way he planned. When he was ready, and when the others came back, so he could say goodbye properly. He wanted to leave all these kids with more than the anger he’d been showing them lately.
Riley came back, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, smiling at him. He unstrapped him and lifted him on the pillows, settled down on the edge of the bed and massaged his wrists for a few pleasant moments, and then handed him his coffee.
“You don’t look so hot yourself, Lancer. Frankly, you look like a washed-up compound guard who’s drank too much bad liquor and couldn’t shoot at anything a meter away from him if his very life depended on it.” He grinned at him in that way he had when he said it, and Lancer let him, had to let him. It was Riley’s way of saying goodbye.
Riley watched him drink in silence, his face serious now and Lancer knew he’d ask again by that look on his face.
“I know why you didn’t want us to before, Lancer, I get it, but now … why the hell won’t you let us? It’ll be his decision, you know that. No one will force him to do anything. You owe it to him to ask. Bloody tell me why you won’t let us find him, because I honestly don’t get it!” His voice cracked.
Lancer could see all the sadness washing over him, as it did every single day for the last five weeks. Ever since Ella told them about the transplant, something he wished she’d kept to herself. He didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to hurt any of them, but he couldn’t explain it to them either, so he shook his head at him softly and leaned back, setting his almost empty mug on the small metal table by the bed.
Riley would leave now and go pace somewhere, blow off steam, the way he always did, only he didn’t. He turned away from him, took a few quick steps to the wall, and rammed his fist into the concrete, hard.
Lancer flinched. “Please don’t, Riley … please don’t do that again,” he whispered and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the damage the kid’s done to himself or the look of pain on his face.
He felt Riley’s arms moving him down gently after a while, the restraints closing around him, and then Riley’s lips on his forehead for the briefest of moments, and the sound of the door opening and closing softly behind him. He was okay with being alone. It didn’t hurt as much when he didn’t have to look into the faces of all these people, mourning him, as if he were already gone.
He must have slept for a long time, the light coming in through the window looking gray, dusky when he woke up. A familiar large hand gently wrapped around his fingers and he smiled. Max was alive then, alive and back. He always knew he’d come back, just didn’t know if he’d make it before he turned into a vegetable or was so full of pain meds that he wouldn’t be him anymore. Max seemed asleep in Riley’s chair, his head down on his chest. He looked tanned for some reason as if he spent all this time he was missing outdoors, which didn’t make any kind of sense. Max hated the outdoors, always finding something to bitch about whenever they had to camp out.
Lancer wiggled his fingers under the calloused hand, Max’s eyes staring at him, awake now. “Welcome back, friend. What took you so damn long?”
Max just smiled. “How much more of this do you have?” He pointed at the bag of chemo.
“Two days. Two more bloody days. I took care of them for eight years, you know, and they tie me up like a criminal and pump me full of poison….”
Max unstrapped him, and massaged his wrists, not saying anything until he let his hands go. “I have to tell you something … something that’ll make you really angry with me. I can wait two days if you want me to, or I can tell you now. Whatever you want,” he said softly, looking at him without any smiles now.
Lancer felt his stomach clench and turned his face away for a moment, hoping he had enough strength left to take it, whatever it was. “Sit me up, Max, and spill it. I can probably still take you, so remember that. Maybe not now”—he jabbed a finger toward the chemo contraption—”but when I’m not hooked up to this damn thing anymore.”
Max took him gently by the shoulders and moved him up, stuffing all the pillows under his neck and head, and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Lancer waited for him to speak, patiently, he thought, but Max just sat there, looking at his hands, not saying a word.
“Bloody spill it!”
Max winced and finally looked at him. “I brought him…. I found him and I brought him here….”
Lancer squeezed his eyes shut, every cell of him rebelling against the words he just heard.
“He is with Ella now running whatever tests they need to run. You can do to me whatever you want for it afterward, but he wants to do it, and you will let him. I’ll drug you myself if I have to.”
He didn’t see this coming at all, not from any of them, and certainly not from Max, and it hurt worse than anything that his best friend betrayed him like this. He bloody gave him his word. They all did. Yet here it was.
“You wasted your trip. I won’t let him anywhere near me, and I’m pretty sure you know that. So I need to know why my best friend would do this to me…. Did you finally decide to get back at me for not shooting you or letting you shoot yourself? Because I can’t, for the life of me, think of one thing I’ve done to you since that would make you do this to me. Help me understand it, help me understand why my best friend would turn on me in the eleventh hour,” he said in a whisper, and he was all out of words after that, couldn’t think of anything at all he ever wanted to say to this man.
He felt the bed move. Max stood a few steps away, his head down, when he looked at him again. Lancer felt rage coursing through him, the kind of rage he hasn’t felt in years. He reached over and pulled the port out of his arm and put his feet on the cold floor, hoping he had it in him to stand up.
Max took a small step back to give him more room, his hand reaching for him to help him up. He swatted it away.
Lancer steadied himself against the table and took a tentative step toward the door, not looking at Max. He was done with him, done with all of them. He just needed to get out of this room, this whole place, and they needed to let him. There was no way in hell he would let Telan see him like this or take anything from that kid. He walked toward the door, knowing how ridiculous he looked doing it. It didn’t matter. He just had to make it the rest of the way. He felt bone tired and had to grab onto the wall a few times, but he finally made it, and stood there, panting, both hands pressing on the heavy door handle he couldn’t push all the way down for the life of him.
He felt Max’s hands on his shoulders and spun around, and then he was falling, darkness swallowing the man in front of him, everything going blurry on his face, everything but the eyes with all the gold flecks in them. He tried to hold on, to keep standing, but he couldn’t feel his legs, couldn’t feel anything but Max’s arms around him, cradling him like a child against him, and he wanted to hit him, wanted to keep hitting him until his whole face was bloody, but he couldn’t move anything at all. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch his body betraying him like this, so he didn’t have to watch this man he wished never to see again carrying him like a little kid, looking at him with sadness in his eyes. He felt warm water on his face and somehow knew it was his, knew that he was crying, but there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about that. There wasn’t a thing he could do about any of it.
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 59