Departures

by E. J. Wenstrom

  Connor gestures towards the bandage on my wrist. “What happened there?”

  “Kinlee.” I grin, pulling it back for him to see.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Nice.”

  As we eat, Raina comes out. She clears off the side of a table and climbs on top.

  “I need everyone’s attention for a minute.”

  I turn and look to Kinlee. Is Raina really telling everyone about Tad? Now? I thought they were trying to learn more first. Kinlee frowns and shrugs – No idea.

  “I have an announcement, and it’s not an easy one,” Raina continues. “Our colleague and friend Rosie has passed away. She put up a hell of a fight, but the cancer was growing too fast. I’ll let you know about memorial arrangements, but for now we all need to be supportive of her loved ones. Understandably, Sue is out of commission for the immediate future.”

  I drop my fork.

  What?

  Raina continues. “I hate to talk logistics at a time like this, but it’s gotta be done. I know there are a number of beyond-the-norm strains on us, but for now go to Noah for anything medical, and be patient with him about anything that is not an emergency. They were overloaded in Medical even before this.”

  Raina steps down and heads straight back towards the bunker, pausing for sad glances with those she passes.

  No one speaks.

  Suddenly, the perfect weather today feels cruel. I hate this day and everything about it. I never want to have a day like this again.

  It doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real. I saw Rosie a few days ago. Sue said this wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t going to let it.

  Each new thought is like a wall slamming down in front of me.

  I stand up. “I need to get out of here.”

  Connor stands too. “Want company?”

  “Yeah.”

  In fact, I’ve never needed him more.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Evie

  “Are you okay?”

  Connor asks it for the fifth or sixth time. But I can’t find a way to answer.

  I throw myself into the rhythm of my steps, wandering deeper into the woods. Am I okay? I hardly know, but if I open my mouth to say something, I will start crying, and I am afraid the tears will never stop. I am not ready for it yet.

  “Evie. Evie! Evie.” He rushes out in front of me and embraces me, wrapping his arms over my own. When he draws back, he peers hard into my eyes through his shaggy hair. The tears start welling up. Despite the coolness of the evening air, my cheeks burn hot.

  “Okay. Okay. Let’s…” He rubs my arms. “Wanna sit in the barn? We’re almost there anyway.”

  I nod. He squeezes me, then lets go to lead the way.

  We settle into the hay near the cows. He wraps an arm around me.

  “Okay,” he says again, stroking my hair. As if saying it enough times can make it so. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  We sit there a few more minutes, and the tears begin to fall. Where do I even start?

  “She said she was going to live.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sue. She said Rosie was going to live.”

  “Oh… Geez. She said that a lot. I think some part of her was trying to make herself believe it.”

  “But Sue’s a doctor. Didn’t she know? But it’s not only that. It’s… it’s…”

  I take a deep breath. All the crap from the last week swells within me, like it’s going to choke me from the inside.

  “Everything has gone so wrong. It’s been totally nuts in Intel – all these shifts, and it’s never predictable, and so much happens that I can’t even talk about, and I hate that. And, shit, I’m so tired. And it’s not only me – did you see Raina? And then Kinlee had a total meltdown last night, and – ”

  “Whoa, what? Kinlee?” Connor’s frown lines grow deeper.

  “Yeah. And now Rosie, and damnit, Sue said she would live. Like she said I would live. But we don’t even know if I have something, other than this ADHD thing, something serious, and – ”

  “Hold on, you got a diagnosis? ADHD? Just a learning disorder! Evie, that’s amazing news!”

  “Yeah, I guess. But Noah said the rest of the tests still matter; they can’t know if that’s all it is for sure until they have them all back. Hell, even if it all comes back clean, they still can’t be totally sure. Maybe the Directorate tech saw something we can’t. And all I can do is wait, and hope Sue isn’t lying to me like she lied to Rosie.”

  Suddenly I’m not sad anymore – the hot melting pot of emotion stirs and turns to a burning anger.

  “I believed her. I saw Rosie was getting worse, but Sue said… Ugh, I am so stupid.” I kick at the floor.

  Connor runs his fingers slowly back and forth over my back, loosening my tense muscles.

  “No. You’re anything but stupid. You’ve never really seen death before. And you’re right. It’s awful. It never seems right or fair. It just happens.”

  Something in his voice catches, and I remember his dad. The mix of emotion stirs again, turning to stinging shame. How selfish am I being right now, acting like I’m the only one this affects? I lean over and wrap my arms around him, setting my head against his shoulder.

  “Did you know Rosie well?”

  “Not especially, but before the cancer, she was always all over the camp. Always in motion, always smiling, always joking. Sue’s total opposite, in every way. But they hit it off from the start. Sue’s always been… well, Sue. But Rosie wasn’t fazed by it like most of us. Like they were made for each other.” He sighs.

  “Poor Sue.”

  For a moment we sit there, holding each other. Daisy moos from the other end of the barn. The more I think, the more hollowed-out I feel, like I could implode and break down into nothing. I can only imagine what Sue must be feeling right now. No one should have to feel like that.

  Connor shouldn’t.

  But until the rest of my testing is finished – even if it all comes back negative, really – I could still end up just like Rosie. It’s not fair.

  I pull away.

  “We should stop. At least until I know something more definitive. This isn’t fair to you.”

  “Shit, Evie. This again? Now?”

  He drops a fist to the ground. “I don’t know how else to say it to you. It’s not about avoiding pain. It’s about taking your joy where you can find it.” He’s talking faster now, his muscles tensing in little twitches. “For me, that’s with you. For however long you’re here, whether that’s another day or a hundred years.”

  He pulls away and stands up.

  “I don’t know how to make you believe me, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over.” He tugs at his hair in frustration.

  I curl up in a ball. I hate it when we fight.

  “Or maybe,” he says, his voice getting louder. “This isn’t really about that at all. Maybe you don’t want to be with me anymore, and this is your easy pass to get out of it. After all, I’ve hardly seen you for weeks. And you’ve got a diagnosis now.”

  “No! Connor – ” I bolt to my feet. “That’s not it at all – it’s just been so busy, and I just got my diagnosis today – it’s the exact opposite. I love you. So much. I don’t…”

  As I realize what’s blurted out of my mouth – I love you – my stomach drops. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that, not now, not with so much else to worry about. I reach for anything to say to blow past it. But how can I make him understand? Seventeen years in the Quad, and I had no one. Not like this. Or like Kinlee. It was all about keeping my distance, avoiding the terrible feelings of grief later. Sure, they can treat you to make the grief go away, but the ones who get to that point always seem broken, in a way. Like Mother, those last weeks before I left. “I feel this hole in me for Rosie, and I think of the hole I must have left in Gracelyn, and… and… I don’t want to make any more holes. Especially not in you.”

  By the end I am crying so hard I am not sure the words
come out right. My arms clutch around my middle and curl up in a ball, like maybe I can still hold myself together.

  Connor’s shoulders drop, relaxing, and his frown gives way to something gentler.

  “Evie.” He strokes his palms over the sides of my arms. “You aren’t the hole. Rosie isn’t the hole. My parents aren’t the hole. Life. That’s the damn hole. You’re what fills it.”

  I’m not sure we’re making sense anymore, but I get it anyway, and something sheds from around my heart.

  He always has the words for everything, every idea, every situation. But right now, like so often, I have absolutely none. For a moment I stare at him. He baffles me daily, his mind so alive and crackling with questions, challenges, curiosity. And he thrills me. Does his brain never get tired?

  His eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed, his mouth set and determined, waiting for my pushback. I can hardly remember what it was like not to want him, not to have him on my side. I close the remaining space between us and press into him. He wraps around me, and he’s right – it makes the hole feel a little smaller.

  I give in, accept my fear and let it exist, like something separate from me. If he says he wants this, then who am I to say otherwise? I need it too badly myself to keep fighting it, to keep holding back from him. Once I am past the fear, my body wakes up with a hunger – a desperate need to feel alive.

  I tilt my head up, and I kiss him, hard.

  He pulls away. “Look if this is some tactic to distract me from – ”

  I kiss him again, softer, sweet, long.

  He tips his chin so that our foreheads touch, his fingers tangling into my hair. “Then I am completely okay with it,” he finishes, his breath a hot whisper on my cheek.

  He leans in and kisses me back. His hand trails down my cheek and finds my neck, his thumb brushes over my jawline. Our kisses become more heated, and I press up against him.

  I reach my arms around him, my hands settling over his hips, and pull him against me. His other hand finds my waist and wraps around me tight. Everything but his touch fades away, doesn’t exist.

  I slip my hands under his shirt and a thrill rushes through me as the warmth of his skin soaks into my fingers. It’s like an addiction – suddenly, I want to be touching all of him. My body craves to be closer, closer than close, to wrap around every inch of him. My mind hums as if I’m on some kind of drug.

  My fingers trail forward against the ridge of his jeans and settle at the button. I undo it.

  Connor jumps back. The world forces its way back in with abrupt force.

  “What is that?” Connor exclaims.

  “Wh – what?” My head is still rushing. I take a breath and try to make myself focus. His hair is adorably tousled.

  But he’s frowning. Behind the anger, confusion and maybe even a little fear are etched over his face.

  Maybe I should have left him alone after all. I reach for him. “What’s wrong?”

  He pulls away again. “Hold up. What exactly were you doing?”

  What was I doing? I shake my head. “I… I don’t know.” I wasn’t thinking at all, I realize. My entire face floods with heat.

  “Was it… going where I think it was going? Because we’ve never even talked about that. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I haven’t thought it through.”

  My face gets hotter as I begin to think again, and I realize, “Me neither.”

  My body is still humming with a craving for him, for his touch. I take another step back. “Shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

  I plop down onto the ground, wrap my arms around my knees, and tuck my head in against them. This was already the most terrible night. Now, I’ve made it my most embarrassing night, too.

  “Aw, I’m sorry,” Connor says, sighing. He refastens his jeans and sits down next to me. We’re back where we started, in a huddle on the floor, and him comforting the crazy mess that I’ve become. “It’s not a big deal. It’s really not.”

  He’s rubbing my back again, trying to comfort me. It’s too much.

  I can’t keep up with this roller-coaster of emotions I’m riding tonight, all these things he draws out in me. It’s a whole new level of living, and I don’t know what to do with it.

  “I want… you make me feel…” I sigh and bury my head between my arms. It’s impossible. “I don’t even know how to explain it. I want to be as close to you as I can get.”

  He leans into me and his lips press softly into my shoulder. “We’re fine. Really. I was just surprised. It’s… It’s not that I don’t, um, want to, ya know?”

  “Really?” I lift my head back up and look to him.

  He nods. “It just got… heated. I needed to think.”

  Of course he did. He always thinks. Leave it to me to forget to think.

  “Besides,” he says. “There’s no rush, right? I mean. I’m not going anywhere.”

  My heart flutters. “Me neither.” Definitely not.

  He looks away and shifts his position.

  “I wasn’t ready for it, you know? I’m not exactly a hot commodity around here. I guess I thought maybe someday I’d grow out of all this gangliness and I’d move back to the real world, and then, maybe. But I never expected anyone… for you… to actually… I didn’t think I needed to think about it yet – not that I don’t think about…” He sighs, tongue-tied.

  I have never seen him at a loss for words before.

  I remember what I thought of him the first time I met him – disheveled, obnoxious, awkward – and realize suddenly that must be how he sees himself. It makes my heart melt.

  I wrap my arms around him. “Well, I do. You’re amazing. I want you. Not in a few years, not when you’ve grown out of anything. Now.”

  He blushes, and I kiss his cheek.

  “In a totally non-rushy, no-pressure kind of way.”

  He laughs and pulls me close. Then he turns to face me and reaches around my arm to brush his hand over my cheek.

  His expression softens, then turns suddenly serious, and for a moment my chest flutters, wondering what I’ve done wrong now.

  “I love you, too, by the way,” he says, tilting his forehead against mine.

  My heart swells until I’m sure it will burst. “I love you,” I echo back. It feels good to say it again. To say it on its own, without the anger and confusion of earlier.

  We sit there, trading soft kisses, long into the night.

  Part of me is afraid to go back to camp. When we go back, everything else will come back with it. And everything else keeps going straight to shit. In fact, the worse things get, the more I start to believe something even worse is bound to happen, and soon.

  Chapter Forty

  Gracelyn

  Work, and the rest of life, has fallen away into a blur. All I have been able to think about since my night out with Quinn has been the Licentia, and our plans to break out again. I spend the rest of my time bracing to get caught. Every time a watchlizard skitters by, or Father glances at me, or the instructor calls on me in class, I am sure I have been found out.

  But nothing happens.

  The day of our plan is normal, like any other day, except that I cannot seem to hold still. I bite my nails and tap my leg and hope I look like I am being productive. I hardly notice the light fading for curfew, and then suddenly it is time, and Quinn is waiting outside.

  This time I place one of the strips on the window myself before we climb down the tree.

  The trek to the DMD storage building is long, with all the dodging and hiding to get around security cars. I had no idea the Quad was so expansive – and the DMD building is far from the only structure the Directorate is hiding on the Quad’s edge. There is a whole neighborhood of tall concrete blocks out here. What kinds of things would DMD have that would need to be stored all the way out here, hidden away on the outskirts of the Quad?

  Quinn shrugs when I ask. “All sorts of stuff.”

  She slows as we near the buildings, but I do not see t
he two dark figures until we are almost on them.

  “I told you I didn’t want her here. She’s too fresh,” C says, popping up from behind a cluster of bushes along the building’s side.

  Quinn gestures to me, and we join them, ducking behind the bushes, our backs pressed against the rough bricks behind us. To C’s other side is the scraggly-bearded man – P, I assume. C and P both wear knit masks that pull down over their faces.

  “It’s fine,” Quinn whispers.

  I hope so. My heart races, and I force myself to take slow, even breaths to fight it. Is this what Evie’s attacks used to feel like? C is right, I have no business being here. I have never done anything even close to this before. Before all this stuff with Evie, I never broke a single rule. Not one my entire life. At least I wore more functional clothing this time – my black fitness leggings and a black turtleneck I used to wear to school.

  “It’d better be fine,” C says. He casts me one more glare. “A few more minutes before the security drive-by, and then we’re heading in. Started to think we were going to have to go in without you.”

  Quinn shrugs, pulling her knit cap down to cover more of her hair. “We’re here.”

  Like C said, a security vehicle drifts by minutes later. We duck back behind the bushes, and as soon as it passes, we rush to the door. P pulls out a large piece of tech and starts syncing it to the door’s digipad reader. It hums, then the door clicks open.

  “Don’t they have security feeds in here?” I ask, pausing.

  “That’s part of what P is here for,” C says. “He’s re-routing last night’s footage to the feeds. They won’t see us.”

  I look to Quinn. She smiles. I guess it is okay.

  “File room’s this way,” she says.

  Inside, the building is as sparse as the outside. The large windows are filmed with dust and dirt. Does anyone ever come here?

  As Quinn leads us through the halls, P lags behind, digging through his backpack, preparing, I suppose, for whatever is next. When we get to the archive room, he hacks a second digireader to get us in.

  The archive room is gigantic – half an entire level of the building, at least. One part is filled with rows and rows of servers. Their hum is loud and persistent, dampened by the shushing of aggressively-circulating air.