“Morning,” calls Trevor. His face is poking out of the tent, and he is smiling a dopey smile. I can see his bare, muscular shoulders. Natalie’s long, thin arm wraps around his neck. She places a soft kiss on his cheek.
He turns and kisses her back, then climbs out of the tent.
“Is Juliet pissing?” he asks as he pushes down his spiky hair. “’Cause I need to go.”
As he says it, Juliet reemerges from the tree line. Trev grins and walks toward her, his massive hands undoing his belt. Natalie moves forward and crouches beside me.
“You know you don’t have to be with Trev anymore,” I say. “If you don’t want to.”
She sits down. “I can’t go through this without him. Once this is all over, we’ll see where things stand, but for now, we need to be together. I can’t do this alone.”
She notices the Bolt Glove and raises an eyebrow. “You’re wearing it already?”
I nod. “I’m trying to get as familiar with it as possible. If Craike or a Stalker or anyone notices it before I take my wool glove off, then they’ll win and I’ll be incinerated. Everything depends on me getting inside wearing the glove without them noticing. I—”
“The sun’s going down,” interrupts Dyl. “And just so you know, that rule was dumb. We don’t actually have to do this right now if you don’t feel up for it, Caden.”
I love the way he says my name. CaYYYden. He says it in a way only he can.
I shake my head and stand. “No, the reason we set it is that we’d always postpone if we could. We’ll never feel one hundred percent ready. So let’s do it. Juliet, are you ready to go?”
She shakes her head. “I need to get changed. And so do you, unless you want to stick it to the man in the shirt you slept in. Everyone, get ready and then we’ll leave in five.”
Dyl and I head toward our tent. It used to be mine, and Dyl spent half a night sleeping outside. Then I caved and let him share, so now it’s ours. We both pause in front of the doorway.
“You first,” he says. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Fine.”
I step inside and reach my pile of clothes. The tent flap rustles.
Dyl is standing there.
I gulp down a breath. “What are you doing?”
He steps forward. “Just this.”
He grabs my wrists and lowers them so they hang beside my hips. Then he steps close, so his chest is almost touching mine, and he turns his head and closes his eyes. His lips press against mine. They linger there for one, two, three seconds. He closes his lips, then he pulls away. I open my eyes. When did I close them? His forehead is pressing against my forehead, and his hands are holding mine.
We stand there for a moment, just breathing.
He pulls back an inch. This close, his eyes truly are spectacular. They’re green, sure, but they’re also speckled with all these different shades: some light, like grass, others almost black.
I bite my lip. “What was that?”
He bends down and picks up a shirt and a jacket. “No incentive,” he says as he shrugs off his old shirt. He pulls the fresh T-shirt over his head. Then he wraps the jacket, a dark one that seems to be made primarily of pockets, around his lithe body. It’s a size too big and hangs off him, yet he somehow makes it look cool. “I had no incentive, Caden. None at all.”
He lifts the flap of the tent and walks outside.
That’s why I’m doing this. Is it worth it?
Hell yes.
I take off my old shirt, then pull on a clean gray T-shirt and put on my plaid jacket. I’m grinning. He likes me he likes me he likes me. It’s real. I’m not a foolish child chasing something I can never have. What I felt was real.
Now I need to save it. All I have to do is take down a centuries-old organization that’s armed with the most sophisticated killing machines on the planet. I run my fingers through my hair, spiking it up, then step out of the tent.
They don’t stand a chance.
Outside, everyone else is ready. Trevor’s wearing a brown leather jacket and designer jeans. Natalie’s wearing skintight black pants and an oversized pink sweater. Juliet’s wearing skinny jeans and a royal-blue coat fastened all the way up to her neck. They don’t look like rebels; they look like an average group of kids.
Juliet heads toward the car and gets in the driver’s seat. I let Natalie, Trevor, and Dyl clamber into the back, and then I climb in.
I pull on my seat belt. “It’s funny, I’m about to go into a scenario where death is highly likely, and I still have to buckle in.”
Juliet turns on the engine. “That’s a good thing. It means you’re not an idiot. Have you ever seen the stats? There are so many deaths every year that could’ve been prevented if they’d been wearing a seat belt.” She plants her foot on the accelerator and the car moves forward.
“Juliet,” I say. “Do you know that you’re incredible?”
She turns to me. The wind coming in from her open window is blowing her hair. “What?”
“I said you’re amazing. I want you to know I think that about you.”
“Thank you, Caden.”
“I think you’re amazing too, Jules,” says Trevor. “I hope you know I think that.”
“I do. Thanks, Trev.”
Silence falls over the car, becoming so thick it would take something really worth saying to break it. Juliet is staring forward, her eyes slightly narrowed, her shoulders hunched, her hands gripping the wheel at nine and three o’clock.
She looks like Dyl. They’re more alike than they realize, both super intense and confident. I’d bet most of the people at school don’t know Juliet is a science prodigy, even though she is literally the best at it in the entire school. It doesn’t matter to her that no one knows she’s so talented. She’s also incredibly brave and already saved my life once by destroying the Stalker. If I didn’t know before, now I totally know why the LIC wanted to monitor her.
I nestle into my seat and stare out the window. The forest blurs past.
After about an hour and a half, the trees start thinning, leaving gaps of foggy gray air between the smooth white trunks. Up ahead is a long stretch of flat earth. Fog fills the air, and the grass glimmers with frost.
Juliet pulls onto the side of the road and parks.
“This is where we leave you,” she says. “We can’t risk driving out in the open. Well, until you get the door open, that is.”
I step outside. I push my arms out in front of me, and feel the satisfying cracking of my vertebrae as they click back into place.
Juliet walks around the front of the car and stops in front of me. “Give me your hand, Caden. The one with the glove.”
I raise my gloved hand. She picks it up and starts fiddling with the wires. Then she presses the button above my wrist. Blue light streams from the base mechanism. With a buzzing sound, the wires start to glow neon blue.
“There,” she says with a proud grin. “It’s working perfectly.”
She passes me a pair of gray wool gloves.
I put the left one on my free hand, then hesitate. “Won’t the contact activate it?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, you need to press pretty hard in order to make it work. Like, really push into what you want to electrocute. It’ll be fine.”
Slowly, I pull the wool glove over the wires, then flex my fingers.
Juliet pats my shoulder. “Are you nervous?”
Of course.
“Yeah, I am.”
“You shouldn’t be. You’ve got this, Caden.”
She grips my shoulder one last time, and then she walks back to the car and steps inside.
Dyl walks up to me and offers his hand. I grab it with my free hand and we shake. There are too many words and not enough time to say what I want to say, so silence feels right. Once he moves away Natalie gives me a tight hug, then lets me go and joins Juliet in the car.
“What’s with the silence?” says Trevor. “Caden’s about to risk his life, for pete’s
sake!” He grabs me in a rough hug. “Go smash it, Caden. I know you will. And Dyl, so help me God, if you don’t hug this glorious boy right now I’m going to have to punch you.”
“If I have to,” says Dyl with a sheepish smile. He looks like a Nice. He walks across to me and extends his arms. I step forward, and he grabs me and pulls me to his chest. He smells like the campfire and coconut shampoo. A few long strands of his silky hair press against my face. In my ear, he whispers: “Do it for us.”
Us.
Not him. Not me.
Us.
I want to ask if he means a capital u Us, like a capital w We, but he lets me go and moves back to the car. Dyl, the real freaking Dyl, referred to the pairing of the real me and the real him as an us. If that doesn’t give me strength, then nothing will.
Or is he talking about us as in Love Interests? Maybe that’s what he meant—like, I should make all the bastards at the LIC suffer on behalf of every single child who was forced into that hellish existence. I want to ask him, to know for sure what he meant, but he’s already climbing back into the car.
I walk to the side of the road and stand on the marshy ground. The car’s engine turns on. The twin beams of the headlights illuminate the path I must follow: the path that will lead me directly to the LIC. I don’t look back as I hear the sound of tires spinning against the road. Then it grows quieter and quieter.
And I’m totally alone.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Stopping isn’t an option. I know it isn’t. Yet my gut is practically begging me to turn around and sprint toward the forest. Still, I keep going, marching with my head held high toward a place where my death is a very real possibility.
The air is so cold I can see my breath. It’s thick and white, like smoke. I can’t believe I’m returning willingly. I used to think the only way I’d ever go back would be in a body bag or as the prisoner of a Stalker.
But here I am, walking back to the LIC. I can already see it. It’s smaller than I expected, just one square building, not much higher than a house. There’s nothing else around for miles, save for the occasional lonely tree, so I know this is the right spot. Plus, it’s probably nerves, but there’s a strange heaviness in the air, a constant weight pressing me down. As if I didn’t already know there’s something seriously wrong with this place.
My feet make grating sounds as they thump down on the road. I lighten my tread and the sound softens. How many steps have I taken since I left the others? I spin and look behind me. The tree line is about three hundred yards away, although it’s hard to tell due to the murky darkness. I turn back around and check the LIC. It’s about half a mile away.
Now that I’m closer, I can see the square building leads to a runway, one that’s protected by a wire fence. I’ve been here before. This is the bunker. This is where I was taken when I was first assigned to Juliet.
I scratch the bare bump of bone that connects my hand with my forearm. The wires are poking out from above the wool glove. I tug the sleeve of my jacket down, covering them.
Dyl’s smiling face appears in my mind. His real smile, the genuine one, not the one he learned at the LIC. The one that reaches his eyes, lighting them up. The smile he made when he was outside my window. My life has had so much darkness but it’s the sparks of joy, like his smile, I think of now. Kisses. Laughter. Friendship. Those are the things I want to remember, and the things I look forward to.
I guess that makes me an optimist.
I guess that makes me Nice.
A chain-link fence appears. Atop it is a massive curl of razor wire. I reach the gate and loop my fingers through the cold metal.
Time to out-act Craike.
“Help me!” I scream, taking all the frustration I feel and funneling it into a different cause. My eyes fill with tears. “Please! I need help!”
At the top of the fence is a black security camera. It pivots, and the reflective end faces me. A spotlight turns on, covering me with a circle of white light.
I jump and point at the camera. “There! I know you see me!”
A few tense minutes later, the door of the building swings open and Craike steps out, wearing a black suit and a canary-yellow tie. In his slender hands he’s holding a silver handgun. He strides across to the gate and aims it.
Right at me.
A blur of darkness streaks out of the door and stops directly in front of the gate. I stare into the Stalker’s chest. A little galaxy of silver light glimmers where its heart should be.
That’s where I’ll aim.
Craike stops beside the Stalker. He’s holding the gun steady, aiming it right between my eyes. A gust of wind opens his jacket, revealing a second gun strapped to his hip.
“Caden,” he says. “Welcome back. We missed you.”
“Before you do anything, please hear me out,” I say. “I was dragged into rebelling. I didn’t want to run but Dyl tricked me into doing it. I came here to hand him over in exchange for my freedom.”
“You expect me, of all people, to believe you’ve fallen out of love that fast?”
My face falls. “I was delusional, and he was playing me. You know love can drive people to act irrationally. But I’m smarter than my feelings and now I know it was all a fantasy. I want to get back to reality. So please, let’s put this behind us. That’s all I want. I’m good at being a Love Interest, you must’ve seen that, so I’m valuable to you. Let me tell you where Dylan is and then we can…”
He types a password into the square screen beside the gate. It flashes, then the door swings open.
I step forward. “So we have a deal?”
He grins. “Throw him.”
What?
The Stalker’s hand shoots out and grabs me by the neck. It jerks to the side, sending me spinning through the air. The earth rushes toward me. My face grinds into the grass, filling my mouth with dirt clods and warm blood. I place my hands on the ground and push myself up. My mouth is full of warm and salty liquid. I spit, spraying the grass with red.
“Again.”
Hands grab the back of my shirt and yank me up off the ground. The collar of my shirt digs into my throat. A button pops off my jacket and falls, spinning, to the earth. I’m high off the ground, and my body is straining against the material of my clothes. The hands holding me release, and I follow the button down. I barely have time to raise my right hand to protect my head before I land. My nose and my balls take most of the force, and my nose gushes twin jets of blood. As for my balls, well, they feel like mini supernovas of pain, sending an ache right into my core, to the part of me that sits behind my stomach. I curl up, whimpering like a kicked dog.
I failed. I …
Fingers wrap through my hair and pull. I scream and am wrenched to my feet. Craike. I’ll kill him. I want to shock him now; I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Yet I leave the wool glove on, and scramble forward with tears streaming down my face.
The back of my head is pushed, and I land hard on my hands and knees.
Craike is sneering at me. He’s standing about a yard away, aiming the gun at my forehead. Instinctively, I raise my hands, like surrendering will save me.
“Back when you were first released,” says Craike, “I told you what we do to rebels. And you’re a smart boy, Caden, so I think you know that you’re about to die, no matter what your intentions in coming here. But, in case you’re confused, I’ll explain what is about to happen. I’m going to take you to the incinerator.” He turns away and taps on the screen that’s embedded in the wall. It’s a touch-screen keypad. I watch his fingers: the code he enters is 2484972. Easy. “And you’re going to burn.”
I realize the only reason he didn’t try to disguise his password is that he doesn’t think I’m going to survive long enough to ever use it. I swallow, and find my mouth is parched.
The door rolls upward, and Craike grabs me by the shirt and pulls me to my feet. He moves around and places his hand on my back. With a push, I
stumble inside. A white jet sits in the middle of the bunker. He presses the barrel of the gun into my spine, and the metal digs into my vertebrae.
I have only one trick left up my sleeve: to be myself. Maybe if I stop acting like the meek, sensitive boy he expects me to be, he’ll be entertained enough that he keeps me alive a little longer. It might buy me enough time to finish my mission.
We reach the silver elevator, and Craike presses his plastic key card against the wall beside the door. The machines start to whir. The doors open, and he turns to me. He’s so close I get a whiff of his icy cologne. “Get inside.”
I walk into the elevator, then spin and face the open doors. Outside, the massive metal door is slowly descending. Past that, the moon is rising. The Stalker struts inside, its cold forearm pressing against my shoulder. I roll my wrists, which makes a cracking sound. The door closes.
The elevator descends, as signified by the streams of white light that pass outside and the general sinking feeling. Craike scratches the tip of his nose.
“Well, this is awkward,” I say.
They both ignore me.
The door slides open, and the Stalker grabs me by the biceps, its grip tight enough to bruise, and pushes me forward into a serene mirrored hallway. Instinct makes me try to step backward, away from this hellish place, but the Stalker is holding me too tight and I can’t move. Relax. Deep breaths. It’s okay. After this, I’ll never come back here. One way or another, this is it for me and the LIC.
A guard dressed in red steps toward us. He’s holding a long black baton. I turn away from him and come face to face with my reflection. Staring back at me is a thin young man with messy hair and hunched shoulders. It takes a second to register that the scruffy kid is actually me. I look more Bad than I ever have, and there’s this intense, fiery look in my eyes. I look nothing like the boy I was when I lived here.
I freaking love it.
“Is everything under control, boss?” asks the guard.
“Don’t talk to me,” barks Craike. We proceed down the hallway. The guard steps into the elevator and then the doors close.
Save for the elevators, there’s only one door on this level, and it’s at the very end of the hallway. It’s made of black glass.
The Love Interest Page 27