“It’s an underwater tunnel that runs between the lab and Governor Voss’s mansion. Originally, it just led to a submarine employee docking lot, but for his convenience, Voss had it extended. Derek’s not just sneaking out of the lab, he’s sneaking out of the mansion as well.”
I shake my head. “Foolish.”
Callum realizes he’s just given me a new worry. “I’m sure Derek has a plan,” he says, touching my elbow for just a second before pulling back. As if a second was too long. “Security will be tight, but with gala prepwork, his won’t be the only unknown face around. Maybe it’s not so foolish.”
I nod, hoping he’s right.
Callum returns to his microscope. Peering down it, he looks perplexed. “Ren—” he begins, voice even. But the expression he’s wearing . . . my nerves fire off warning shots. “I want to show you something.”
Callum slides the mini tank toward me. Inside, dead fungi and algae have sunk to the bottom. “Last night, after taking your blood sample, I got to work immediately on the serum.
“I used this eyedropper,” he says, wiggling it between his fingers, “to move it into a petri dish. Later, I used the same one to withdraw some water. By morning, the pH in the tank was off, and everything was dead.”
“And you think it’s because of my blood?”
“Or blood in general, I’m not sure. But I’d like to run more tests, if that’s all right.”
“Go for it,” I tell him. “Just let me down easy, if you find out I’m actually on death’s door or something.”
Callum rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hey,” I say, glancing toward the hall. “Before Aven wakes up, I want us to be on the same page about this whole prisoner-break-out mission she’s totally gung ho on. You know she promised— I mean, swore on her life promised—that she’d go back there and get them out?”
I collapse into the foldable metal chair and groan. “How the hell would we swing that? There are hundreds of ’em!”
“I don’t know.” Callum lifts his plastic goggles onto his forehead. “But I do believe we should try, at the very least, to consider getting them the serum—which we now have. After the eyedropper mixup, I followed the steps for the last batch exactly, adding your blood last. It’s almost ready—I haven’t yet filtered out the regeneration phytonutrients.”
“Jeez,” I say. “You must have been up the whole time!”
“There’s an event I need to make an appearance at tonight. Thus, no lab work. I wanted to make sure it was mostly done.”
Reaching out to poke his elbow, I ask, “What’s the event, Mr. Fancy Pants?”
Callum hesitates. He doesn’t want to tell me. Why not? A moment later, he gestures toward the window, where a golden square envelope sits atop a metal filing cabinet. “Take a look,” he says, and hands me an invitation.
The lettering is emblazoned with swanky gold ink.
IN HONOR OF GOVERNOR VOSS
DR. JUSTIN CORY, you are cordially invited to an evening of merriment and gratitude. Please join us on Castle Islet at Governor Voss’s home, where we will toast his recent success combatting the deadly HBNC virus.
Water and hors d’oeuvres will be served. Black-tie affair.
Seven o’clock.
I nearly choke on the bullshit. Voss didn’t give the sick the medicine—he stole it out from under their noses. And now he gets a party?
Callum sees my disgust and rereads the invitation to himself. “I imagine he’s hoping to curry the people’s favor before drought season hits too,” he tells me. “The governor is quite aware of the Isle’s financial situation—I don’t doubt he has concerns that citizens might start rioting. You saw the protest. I believe it’s just the beginning.”
I chuck the invitation back onto the filing cabinet.
“For the sake of discussion, say we wanted to free the prisoners.” Callum lets the idea hang in the air, warming me up to it before going on. “How do you think you’d do it?”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Callum doesn’t want to give up so soon. The boy is too much like Aven, needing to do good all the time.
I’d start by killing Voss.
The invitation catches the early-afternoon sun, setting the gold paper on fire.
There’s my chance, I realize.
And it’s burning up in front of my very eyes. Leaning forward, I say, “Honestly, Callum? I wouldn’t even try. Getting the prisoners serum is one thing, but freeing hundreds from a high-security government lab? Where would we even bring them? Not only is it damn near impossible, but if you think about it—if you really think about it—that’s not the problem. It’s just a symptom of a much bigger issue.”
“You mean the governor,” he says, not skipping a beat.
I raise both hands like he’s caught me saying something criminal. Thankfully, though, free speech is still kind of a thing—a civilized holdover from the Mainland days. “Getting rid of him? It’s like that saying about the stone that kills both the birds. Except, instead of killing the birds, it saves them. And I’d count myself and Aven among those saved. Voss will never stop hunting the spring, or me, or her.”
“Could you do it?” he asks. “Assassinate him, I mean?”
I could. If I had the opportunity, I could.
I don’t answer Calllum—the beast made of teeth sets me on edge if I look at it too closely.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Callum watching me, wondering. It lasts only a second: he don’t need a straight answer.
I think he knows I’d do it.
19
AVEN
3:07 P.M., FRIDAY
One single blade of sunlight carves between the drapes, slicing me in two. I wake fast and move out of its way. It’s just sunlight, I tell myself. Sunlight can’t hurt.
Looking around the room, I realize I’m glad Ren’s not here. My nightmare woke me and now she thinks I’m broken. And for whatever reason—sheer stubbornness, probably—it makes me feel less broken. Like I want to fight back. Yawning, I lift myself up from the bed—
Something feels different. . . .
I lifted myself. I felt the bend of my wrists and the push of the mattress against my palms. I could be imagining it. It wouldn’t be the first time. I almost don’t want to look, but my fear isn’t so big it stomps out my hope.
I scoot myself closer to the edge of the bed, and, using my teeth, I begin to unravel the gauze. It flies away from me, piling invisibly against the white sheets. White wings. The fluttering stops me cold as my dream—my nightmare—comes back, but the gauze is already off.
I gasp, dizzy.
I don’t believe it.
Pale skin, blue veins, and lines of new muscle have regrown up to my knuckles. Brand-new knuckles. There, the bones end, with only a little bit of finger webbing between them. It looks funny, but I’m not complaining. Turning my hand over, I inspect my palm. That’s there too, complete with life lines and death lines. Love lines. The thought puts my heart in my stomach, and I think of green eyes.
I’ve been given it back, all of it. Almost.
They could grow more.
I laugh into the soft padded flesh of my palm. The knife in the back of my mind dulls, and I remember my promise to the stars. I can do it, I tell myself. I can go back there. I don’t want to see the white room and the black room again, but with Ren, Callum, and Derek—I could do it.
I won’t let my fear be the reason I don’t keep my promise.
Jumping out of bed, I quickly grab my new comm. Using my teeth, I strap it to my wrist and run from the room.
“You guys!” I yell, throwing open the door to Callum’s lab. I find him and my sister standing over the glass tanks, talking. “Look!” I hold two palms up to their faces, one for each.
Ren grabs my half hand with her full one. “Holy brack!” she says. “I don’t believe it!” She wiggles the soft triangle of flesh between my index finger and thumb, amazed. Then she rolls my hand over, tracin
g each new line like I just did.
“Do we think it’ll keep growing?” I ask hopefully, trying to read my future. Some people say it’s possible. I don’t know if it works on yourself.
“I think it will,” Callum answers, drawing another vial. “Let’s make sure, shall we?” He hands it to me as if it were a glass of white water: bubbly stuff that Ren sometimes drinks at Tank parties in the Ward. I take it between my palms, and I drink.
After topping it off with one last chug, I breathe deep. The water buzzes through my veins. The lightning sensation is back, only a tiny bit weaker.
“So. You guys,” I begin, my eyes bouncing back and forth between Callum and Ren. Fully supercharged with the water, my promise overrides all my fear. “Can we come up with a plan today? To get Mrs. B and Miss Nale and the others out?” I ask, throwing the words into the air like dice.
“Callum and I were just discussing it.” Ren avoids my eyes, hesitating. I hold my breath. “He suggested we, at the very least, try to get them the serum.”
I do a double take, not understanding. “Wait . . . are you saying we can’t do it?”
She looks to Callum for backup.
“It would be quite difficult,” he agrees, spreading his arms wide and sighing.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “But difficult is not impossible, right?” I ask in disbelief. This is what being dropped from a skyscraper must feel like.
“Aven . . . ,” Ren starts, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Freeing hundreds of people from a top secret government lab ain’t exactly a cakewalk. Honestly, I wouldn’t know where to start. But getting them the serum? That we can talk about.”
I bite my lower lip to keep from crying. I have to do this. I said I would. And I can go back now. . . . I’m not broken. I’m strong enough.
The tears come anyway.
“I’m sorry, Feathers,” she says, softer now. “I’m just not interested in risking both our lives so soon. Your life, especially. I just got you back, remember?”
“Then what did you save me for?” I shoot at her. “If not so that I can live my life . . . then why? What if I want to risk it? You’re not my mother.”
Her face falls. Now I feel like I’ve just dropped her from a building.
She’s not, though. I’ve been given a second chance, and this is how I want to use it. Except—
I can’t do it without her.
It’s too late. The damage is done. Red-eyed, tear-streaked, I shake my head, because I don’t know how to give up. Ren taught me that. I hear myself pleading with her like I’m a fly on the wall. I sound like the child I’m trying to prove I’m not.
I can’t stop myself. “But I made a promise—”
“Exactly,” Ren spits, her forehead vein blue and pissed. “You promised. Not me. I didn’t volunteer for this job.”
I stop breathing. I—I can’t believe her. Can’t she see how awful it is? Everyone believed me. I’m a liar now.
Ren’s comm buzzes.
I look away, pushing tears from my face, but I can’t stop the crying. I already begged. I yelled. I’m still the child. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her spin around and do a little jump. She’s happy.
“It’s Derek,” she says. Exhaling, she reads his comm.
Her smile disappears.
20
REN
3:22 P.M., FRIDAY
Leave—the DI are coming to talk to Dr. Cory. Ter’s got his Omni waiting at Sybil’s Cave, but it’s getting late. DI security tightens at 5—they’re closing Castle Islet to the public. You have to leave now, or it’ll be too dangerous.
Callum should stay put, act normal. They have nothing on him.
“Brack,” I curse. Slamming my hand against the wall, I read the comm aloud. “We’ve gotta leave, right now, this minute. Please don’t argue with me, Aven. Just get your things.”
I half expect her to pull the “You’re not my mother” card a second time. She’s fourteen; I probably should’ve seen it coming. Instead, I was blindsided—and damn, I had no idea how bad it would hurt. My sister just threw my heart to a ten-headed, ten-jawed shark and she don’t even know it. Thankfully, she leaves the room without a fight, and I answer Derek’s comm.
Will you meet us?
His reply is instantaneous:
Don’t wait up—I’ll find another way off the island if I can’t meet you.
“Where’s your map, Callum?” I ask, looking around. “I need to find Sybil’s Cave.”
He doesn’t hear me; he’s breaking down the tanks, muttering to himself. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he says. “I was just one of Aven’s doctors at Ward Hope. That’s all this is.”
He disassembles the ecosystem in pieces—algae, fungus, rocks, and water. He ties them in small individual bags, then all together in one large sack. Into a second bag, he pours the serum with my blood added. He lowers both in front of me.
“Map?” I ask again.
“Of course.” He walks me to the closet door and points inside. It’s massive. At the top, it reads, The United Metro Isles and the Upstate Region (Southern Half Only). “Sybil’s Cave,” he repeats to himself, searching the West Isle side of the map.
Meanwhile, I inspect the rest. Instinctively, my eyes find Falls—the city that once supplied us with water. Only thirty miles north, we got slaughtered in the First Appeal. “A Dawn for Discourse” forgot to discourse that informational tidbit.
“Here we are,” Callum says, finally dropping his thumb somewhere along the Isle’s coastline. His index finger drags southeast over water. “And here’s Sybil’s Cave,” he says. He traces the small green landmass of Castle Islet, and taps its far coast.
“How do we get there?” I ask, peering closer.
He taps the map, remembering something. “It’s a stop on the historic ferry tour. My building’s also on the route, as it’s pre–Wash Out. Every hour, on the hour, weekdays nine to five.”
I check my comm—next boat arrives at four. “We have twenty minutes to get there.”
Callum hands me both bags of water. “We can’t risk the DI finding them. And don’t take the pathway to the docking area—exit out the back, you can cut through. Careful, though; the terrain is steep, and fairly wooded.”
He looks at me, his brows heavy and his face pale.
“We’ll make it,” I promise. He nods, and I go for the hug first. I tackle his waist, crushing his abs with my cheek. “We couldn’t have done any of this without you. I just hope we’re worth the risk. I know how important the water is to you.”
Don’t know why I just said that. It’s not about the water anymore; it can’t be. He’s got different reasons for helping us. Maybe I want to know what they are. . . .
Callum’s first to pull away. He reaches for my penny charm necklace and tugs at the newer one—the one he gave me. “You don’t really think it’s about the water, do you?”
Shaking my head, I scoff. “Hell no. It’s ’cause, secretly, you like living on the edge. I know the truth about you, Callum Pace.” Twice I poke the bony spot right over his heart. “Don’t think you’re fooling me.”
He hugs me again, presses his cheek to mine like I’m something warm and he’s something cold, when really it’s the other way around. There’s a quiet in the room, but not because the room is actually so quiet. Burners are still hissing blue tongue flames, and different mixtures are bubbling in rows. It’s the quiet of things better left unsaid.
“No, Ren. There’s no fooling you,” he says.
We both let it be true.
Exiting through the rear of Callum’s building, Aven and I race across a brittle lawn—then lurch to a stop. “Link arms with me,” I tell her, peering down a green, tree-veiled gorge that drops straight into the Hudson.
Aven doesn’t say no, but she also doesn’t say yes, ’cause now I’m the bad guy.
Instead, she steps into the ravine and takes off at a canter, sideways. One bag bounces against her back—in it, the cure wit
h my blood. When she hits sunlight, her pale hair goes invisible, like she’s got no hair at all.
Carrying two bags of my own—one with algae and fungus samples, the other a backpack filled with fresh from Callum—I take off after her. I dart around trees taller than some leftover buildings in the Ward.
Leaves underfoot, overhead . . . they block out the evening sun. We run through splotchy patches of shadow and brush, grass and fallen branches. “Careful,” I say after nearly slipping. “It’s steep.”
Aven adjusts the bird mask flopping at her collarbone. “I can see that it’s steep, Ren,” she answers between huffs of air.
I slide down a pile of dead leaves like I’m surfing. “Hey,” I say. “Don’t hate me, all right? I didn’t want to lose you twice. That’s no reason to be angry with me.”
Aven exhales. Farther down the gorge, she jumps off a rock and lands perfectly despite the incline. I bat away feelings of envy. The kid’s two years younger, and inches taller. Her legs rival these trees.
“That’s not why I’m upset, Ren. You know why I’m upset.”
“Yes,” I say, gritting my teeth. “I know why. And I’m asking you to have a little perspective. What you promised is downright impossible.”
“You’ve done impossible things before, haven’t you?”
“Well, now I’m tired and I want a break! Isn’t that allowed? Since when did saving everyone on the planet become my job? I’d like to, ya know, get back to living my own life at some point.”
Aven slows at a wire fence, dock in sight. She turns to face me. “I understand. I just never thought of you as selfish, that’s all.”
I stop. My heart is gone—it’s a jigsaw puzzle and every piece is missing. Keeping Aven safe has been my life. Am I selfish?
I never wanted to be without her.
“Ren. Don’t you even wonder?”
“Wonder what?” I answer quietly.
“You found the water. If it were meant to stay hidden—if that’s the only way to deal with this miracle—then . . . why?”
The Isle Page 9