“Besides—there are worse things than killing her.”
The old man cleared his throat.
“You’re wasting time, both of you,” Sinclair said, looking at Sutherland through the screen, shaking his head as if disappointed. “We’ve taken time for granted, and now it’s no longer our ally. Of course Jonah will do it—stop stretching the argument and let’s get this thing going.”
“Fine,” Sutherland said. “You’re right. You don’t do what needs doing; we’ll see how many men are interested in a pretty young woman like Ana—and then she gets a bullet in the forehead. You get to watch. After that, we’ll find someone else to deliver the poison. Either way, it happens. The question is, Jonah, would you like to save your daughter?”
As Sutherland finished his sentence Jonah felt a sharp puncture at his neck. He turned to see Sinclair holding a needle.
Sinclair said, “Enough dillydallying. I just injected you with the antidote. You will get on the train, as instructed. If not, I will personally see to it that your daughter dies even more harshly than Molly.”
Jonah was about to take a swing, wanted to take a swing, more than anything he’d ever wanted.
But he couldn’t.
Jonah was at their mercy.
They had played him, no different than Keller.
Now he would follow their orders, like a good little soldier.
CHAPTER 47 — DR. LIZA GOELLE
Liza was sitting in the lab, staring into a microscope at a slide with a sample from the latest blood drawn from Ana.
The virus was gone.
No sign of it in her blood whatsoever.
Osborn stood beside her, smiling—as best he could.
“Wow,” she said.
He’d been the first to notice that the virus was gone. He’d brought her over to look, and was as excited as Liza had ever seen him.
The door suddenly opened, and Sutherland entered.
“Well, well, why is everybody so happy?”
“Come look,” Oswald said, leading Sutherland to take Liza’s place at the microscope.
Sutherland looked through, and then up at them, perplexed. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure what I’m looking at.”
Oswald said, “It’s Ana’s blood. There’s no sign of the virus, an amazing change from just two days ago.”
“So, she’s cured?” Sutherland asked, eyes wide.
“I would say so,” Oswald said.
Sutherland looked at Liza. “And can we extrapolate this to a cure for the virus? For a vaccine?”
“Well, we had nothing to do with her cure,” Liza said. “But I believe that she holds the key. It’s early, too early. I feel great about it, but I’ve felt great before, so I’m trying to temper my thrill. Having said that, I don’t know if it’s this lab, the genius of Dr. Oswald, Katrina, you, or any of this,” she made a tiny loop in the air by twirling her finger, “but I’ve never felt more confident that we’re close to something big. Something world changing.”
“And Oswald,” Sutherland smiled at the cyborg zombie, “he is helpful to your efforts?”
“Oh definitely! Oswald is fantastic. He knows what I’m going to say before I say it, and has already suggested several things I would never have considered.” Liza giggled like a little girl. “This is just such a different environment for me than working in secret.”
“Ah, yes, I imagine it was tough working in the shadows of City 6,” Sutherland said. “Lonely too, I’m sure. Did anyone ever help you with anything? I mean beyond the regular doctor stuff, did you ever have help with actual testing, or with the creation of the medicines you used on your subjects?”
“I had a few assistants who helped me in the field, but none were doctors, or even medically trained. Just a few members of The Underground I could trust.”
Sutherland turned to Oswald. “And? Are you up to speed? Are you confident you can continue Dr. Goelle’s work alone after the good doctor returns to City 6?”
“Yes,” Oswald said. “Absolutely. I have everything needed to start right now.”
“I was thinking,” Liza said. “I do need to go back to City 6 and take care of a few loose ends, but I would love to come back, perhaps permanently if there’s a position for me? I could do so much more good here.”
Sutherland’s face turned blank, charm gone missing.
He said, “I’m afraid that’s not possible, doctor.”
“Oh,” Liza blinked, confused. “Why not?”
“Because we no longer need you.”
“Oh,” she said, offended, but not wanting to make a scene. Sutherland pulled one of the blasters from beneath his coat and pointed it at Liza’s face.
She stepped back and suddenly realized precisely what he meant.
Because we no longer need you alive.
Oswald started to say something just as Liza opened her mouth to scream, but Sutherland’s blaster tore through her first.
Liza was dead before she hit the floor.
CHAPTER 48 — LIAM HARROW
Liam’s agitation was swelling.
It had been three days since their arrival, and he couldn’t help but feel like he and Ana were prisoners below the fields of flowers. Everything was nice. They were taken care of. Comfortable. Safe. Eating better than they had since leaving Paradise. Liam felt rested and strong.
And, according to Oswald, Ana might be the first person cured of the infection.
He should have been happy, but wasn’t.
It was probably a childhood spent at the Rock, but the thought of such constant confinement rankled Liam like little else. Even soft, Hydrangea’s sheets still felt like shackles.
“You don’t see it—at all?”
Liam had already asked her the same thing a dozen times, once every couple of hours over the last two days.
Ana answered, “No, I don’t see it. At all. I think you’re paranoid. Even if you’re right, I don’t care, let them keep us prisoner. I’m tired of running, and this is the best life I’ve had, we’ve had, in a while.”
“What if Sutherland is like the witch in Hansel and Gretel? Stuffing us fat to serve us at a big feast?”
“Oh please, do you realize how crazy you sound?” Ana said, laughing. “I just want to be happy until my father gets back.”
“What if he’s not coming?”
“He’s coming, Liam. And I wish you’d stop reminding me of how many things could go wrong. I appreciate your concern, I truly do. I know you’re looking out for me. And I love that about you, Liam. But let’s just enjoy this moment for what it is. My arm is healed,” she held it up, skin fresh pink like a baby’s, “and I feel like I could maybe be happy, we could be happy, if you would stop worrying so much.”
She picked up a fat pillow and threw it at Liam, giggling.
Liam finally relented, and allowed himself to smile. Her laugh was infectious.
“OK, OK,” he said. “I’ll stop doomsaying and try to lighten up.”
“Liam,” she said excitedly and then paused, as if trying to finish the thought in her mind before she said it out loud. “Do you think that if there really is a cure, and everything works out, well, do you think we can leave here after my dad comes, and maybe build a life together, the three of us, you know out in The Barrens? Or heck, maybe even stay here, if we like it and we’re welcome?”
Ana then drew a deep breath, as if trying to work up to adding something more, something she wasn’t sure she should say. She then exhaled her final thought. “You and me, do you think we could ever have a life … like the one you wanted with Chelle?”
Ana fell silent, her wide open eyes staring into his, waiting for a response.
Liam didn’t know what to think. Of course he wanted that. Somehow an obligation to protect Jonah’s daughter had turned into something more. He wasn’t sure if it was the shared hell they’d suffered through, or nearly losing her a few nights before, but Liam was coming to the startling realization that he was in love with Ana.
Not now.
Not yet.
To do so was to tempt fate to snatch her from him. Just as it had done to his baby, and to Chelle.
Bad things always happened when Liam answered love’s knocking.
He held her gaze, not wanting to shy away and send the wrong message. He wanted to let her down easy. To tell her that she was thinking foolishly, like a child.
But then his mouth surprised him.
“Yes, Anastasia. It’s what I want more than anything.”
His heart felt as if it had stopped, along with his breath, waiting for her to respond in some way.
Her cheeks blushed, and she looked down.
And then she looked back up, their eyes locking.
He thought about how he could stare into those eyes forever, if fate allowed him to be so lucky.
She moved closer, her lips parting.
And then the moment was shattered.
The door to their quarters clicked, then hissed open.
Oswald hurried inside.
Oswald often came to check their blood and ask Ana questions, but he always knocked. This time he didn’t; the door opened and he barged right in as if the place were on fire.
He stopped when he reached them and stared, his good eye focused on neither, while the one that was lazy and mottled was unmoving and dead.
Liam had never seen Oswald without his lab coat. Today he wore some sort of jacket, half fabric with strips of metal and small blinking lights. The mixture of metal and worn fabric reminded Liam of Oswald himself.
“Did you need more blood?” Ana held out her arm.
“No, I need to talk to you both.”
“What?” Ana looked from Oswald to Liam. Her face flinched in worry.
Liam said, “Go on.”
The cyborg zombie swallowed. And Liam swallowed involuntarily as Oswald’s Adam’s apple moved up and down the withered and charred tube of his neck.
“I don’t have long. My jacket will disable the camera, but not for long so I’ll need to be quick. If I say the words thank you that means I sensed the camera is back online, and I need you to say nothing. Just return to normal conversation. Understand me?”
Ana looked confused. Liam understood immediately. “Yes. Go on.”
Oswald said, “You’re both in danger. Dr. Liza hasn’t drawn your blood because she’s dead.”
Ana gasped.
Liam said, “What?”
“Dead. Sutherland killed her.”
Liam gasped.
Ana then said, “What?”
“Sutherland’s not who you think he is. If someone can cook up a cure to what he’s making, he wants that someone dead. Dr. Liza could. He had to get her here, learn what she knew, then kill her.” Oswald’s good eye moved to Ana. “You’re a bargaining chip for Sutherland to use with your father. Once that no longer has value, you won’t either.”
Liam said, “So we have to leave, right?”
“No,” Oswald shook his head. “We can’t leave. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll be dead for sure. We’ll have an hour, if we’re lucky, before Sutherland would know we’re gone and sends people after us. There’s nowhere we could go in time. He’s got too many people out there. We wouldn’t make sunrise if we left at dawn.”
Ana asked, “What makes you think he won’t kill you anyway, or us?”
“Because he can’t. I’m the only one who can manage his vaccine. He needs me alive, at least for a while. He needs you alive as long as I need you alive, which I keep assuring him I do.” Oswald turned to Liam. “You’re alive because of her.”
No shit.
“So what do we do?” Liam asked, sobered from his irresponsible dreaming just minutes before.
“There’s not much we can do. Your father’s in danger, but that will end soon. When he returns, we’ll leave. Once Jonah’s here, I’m confident Katrina will come. She too has grown uncomfortable with some of Sutherland’s plans.
Liam wasn’t so sure. “What if we take our chances in The Barrens? Leave Hydrangea anyway?”
“You could do that,” Oswald said, “but you would leave me here to die. Sutherland would know I told you, and would kill me immediately. Then he would kill Katrina since Sutherland is a man who likes to be certain that every loose end is tied. After we’re gone, he’ll wait for your father and execute him the second he sets foot in camp. And you two still won’t see sunrise.”
Liam took Ana’s hand.
“Just promise us we’ll leave the second Jonah gets here.”
“I’ll have everything prepared,” Oswald promised.
CHAPTER 49 — JONAH LOVECRAFT
Jonah had once met with a visitor from City 1. He had been was assigned to drive the visitor during his stay behind The Walls. The man had worn a long leather jacket. Immediately, something struck Jonah as odd, but he didn’t realize what that something was until the third or fourth day of driving the man around. The visitor’s jacket was made of real leather, rather than the imitation leather found in City 6. Once Jonah recognized the difference, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Real leather, once identified, seemed somehow even more obviously authentic.
Jonah thought of the jacket as he stood on the train station platform, waiting for the train’s arrival. Like faux leather, he was a sham, walking in a city where he didn’t belong. His life, his entire world, was an imitation. An ugly copy of something so much better.
The train pulled into the station and Jonah stepped into one of the long cars. Powder-blue doors whooshed closed behind him. The cabin lulled forward with a sound that reminded Jonah of hovering orb.
Jonah passed many seats with smiling people, their eyes reflecting no worry. They smiled at Jonah, oblivious to his promise of death.
I can’t do this.
The old man chirped at Jonah through an earpiece. Jonah could feel the man watching his every move via the train’s camera system, ensuring that Jonah live up to his end of the deal.
“I’m sure you’re having second thoughts, Jonah. That would be perfectly natural. You’re a good man with a strong conscience, whose life has done much to warp perception. Doubt is expected, but results required. I’m sure you don’t need a reminder of consequences, or my plea that you keep me from unfortunate choices and inevitable barbarism.”
Before Jonah could respond, the old man said, “Keep walking, and press the button … now, or else your daughter dies.”
Jonah put his hand inside his jacket pocket and flipped the cap covering the detonation button. He hovered his thumb, pressing nothing as he looked around at the dozens of people filling the train car—innocents going about their lives heedless of his threat.
Jonah had been to enough crime scenes, including bombings from The Underground when the group was more radical, to know the aftermath of such monstrous acts. He’d always wondered what kind of person could do that.
Now he was forced to be that kind of person.
His heart pounded, his throat tightened, and his legs began to tremble. He hadn’t been this nervous since the first time he slept with Molly.
Jonah noticed someone looking at him—a small girl, around six or so. She wore a pretty blue dress, formal, with a matching bow in her hair. Her mother (Jonah assumed) sat beside her, typing something into some sort of small rectangular piece of glass, with graphics similar to those broadcast by the lamppost. The woman was ignoring her daughter, no idea their last few moments were wasted.
The girl’s large brown eyes met his.
He thought of how Ana used to look at him, when he was the man who could do no wrong.
Before he murdered Molly.
Before he failed her.
Before he wasted a train of innocents, and likely, a city.
I can’t kill this child.
Can’t kill these people.
If he didn’t, Sutherland and his new cult would kill Ana. Hundreds—thousands—of lives t
o his precious one.
The girl smiled and cracked Jonah’s heart.
He looked away, walked past her, two more rows, and then pressed the button.
He couldn’t tell for certain if the poison was being released or not. He felt the vials in his jacket, but had no idea if the vapor had been released.
He kept walking, passing by the soon-to-be-poisoned people, forcing himself to stare in their eyes. They deserved at least that.
Jonah passed through the first car, and stepped into the next. He continued his death march, meeting eyes, slowly stepping into the impossibility of what he was going to do.
Jonah was murdering normal people who had done nothing wrong.
People who hadn’t chosen a side in this war, let alone known they were even in one.
People who were probably guilty only of being born into City 1’s seat of power by the sea. Sutherland could justify the citizens’ guilt by saying they were somehow culpable for living here, and doing nothing to rise against their leaders.
But that was radicalized bullshit.
Not everything was so black and white. Most people, even people who lived in the “evil empire,” were probably just average people living their lives, taking care of their families, and waking up the next day to do it all again.
They weren’t guilty.
It didn’t matter now. They were still being sentenced by a coward, ordered to by a committee of weaklings. Perhaps Jonah was the biggest coward of all, knowing how wrong this was even as he kept sentencing passengers to death.
He stepped into the next car, spreading death with a false indifference.
Three cars from the end of the train, Jonah ran into another Watcher—dressed exactly like him, though obviously feeling more comfortable.
The Watcher looked up at Jonah, smiled as if confused, maybe wondering why there were two Watchers on one train, or perhaps who Jonah was.
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