by Casey Hays
“Wait a minute, Roberts. Don’t get any ideas in your head about going with us. You’re not.”
I straighten. “What? Why wouldn’t you take us?”
“Us?”
I toss my thumb at Justin. “Yeah. Us.”
“Why won’t I take you? For one, you’re too young. And two, I don’t need your blood on my hands if something happens.”
“Well,” I pause, thinking. “You don’t have the authority to stop us.”
Rob frowns, tossing a frustrated glance at Kyle. “Is he kidding me?”
Kyle shrugs. “The kid is stubborn.” He winks at me.
“Look, Rob,” I raise my hands, ready to make my defense. “First off, I’ve been in those tunnels, too. I’ve deactivated an equalization chamber down there. And reset it. I think you could use me.”
I don’t tell him that I was lost for a majority of the time, or that I was scared out of my mind. Minor details he doesn’t need to know.
“Not only that,” I play my real card now. “But as far as I know, I’m the only one who has ever been shot by an Eden-killer and lived to tell about it.”
Rob’s face is a blank sheet of concentration. I can’t read him. Frustrated, I keep talking.
“Put me to the test.” I lift my chin. “I guarantee you I’m faster than anyone you spot against me. Even one of your own guys.”
The other Rovers are moving away, not interested in the debate . . . until I say this. Several ears perk up.
“Now that’s something I’d pay to see,” Evan Rice says through his teeth, the twig still intact. He hasn’t moved from his spot near the fire.
“How old are you?” Rob squints at me. The firelight flickers against his skin turning him all shades of orange and yellow and shadow.
“I’ll be eighteen in another month.”
“Eighteen,” Rob nods. “So you haven’t graduated. You haven’t even started weapons training.”
“That’s what you want to discuss?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “We’re on the brink of a war, and you want to see my credentials?”
“Do you understand what we’re up against?” Rob counters. He moves in close, hands on hips. I catch a glint of his knife blade like a flash of lightening—a hint of metal just below the wooden handle where it’s sheathed on his hip. “How will you handle yourself when you’re face to face with one of them? Will you rip their throats out on instinct? Or will you know how to distinguish between when to take a life and when to spare one?”
I’m frozen, staring at his face, and I swallow once. Because I have come face to face with one of them, and I could distinguish nothing. I could only react. My eyes falter, and after a minute, I look away.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, backing down. “Self-discipline never mattered more than it does right now. You let your defense stem overtake you, and you start making life-changing mistakes. You’re not ready, son.”
He turns on his heels, and Evan rises to follow flicking the twig into the fire as he goes. Kyle tips his eyes up at me from where he still crouches next to his diagram. Justin hasn’t said a word, but he stands now.
“Rob.”
Rob halts, turns back.
“You’re right about all that. We are young, still lack training, and we’ve already made some of those mistakes you mentioned.”
Rob’s jaw tightens, but he’s listening.
“Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want to face that army. Just thinking about it scares the hell out of me. But—” He looks at me for a minute. “We have other concerns. Concerns that have to do with the Serum. My dad—Dr. Phillips—he’s done some things with it. Enhanced it. Figured out how to make seven year olds shift.”
Evan raises his brows, shifts his eyes toward Rob. Rob doesn’t move.
“Why would he do that?” Kyle whispers, sitting back on his heels.
“He’s looking for a cure. For the babies that keep dying,” Justin answers.
Raised eyebrows suddenly join the raised heads. Justin rubs a hand across his jawline before shoving it into his pocket.
“That’s another story altogether,” he continues. “Point is, I need to get inside Eden, like . . . yesterday. I have to see my dad.”
Rob shifts his eyes from Justin to me. “This is your story, too?”
I nod. “That’s something else Penelope can confirm.”
Rob’s sighs with exasperation. “We’re done here.”
He shakes his head, turns, and tromps off. I look at Kyle.
“So is that a ‘yes’?”
He chuckles, folds his diagram, and puts it away.
“Sure, Ian Roberts. Sure.”
He stands, slaps me on the shoulder, and follows Rob.
Justin, hand still shoved in his pocket, looks at me and shrugs.
“I guess we’ll see.”
Justin gets up early the next morning and slips out of the tent. He’s on a mission to find some decent chunks of wood for his carvings, worried that rain may come and soak everything again before he gathers a stash. He’s antsy—nervous about what today could bring—and whittling has always been the thing that relieves his anxiety. His version of running.
After he leaves, Kate slips into my tent and curls up next to me, her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close, and for a minute, my world is perfect.
Birds chirp in the trees above, and I close my eyes with a deep breath and hold very still.
“I told Diana about the virus,” Kate whispers. My eyes fly open.
“And?”
“She cried.”
She wipes at her face, and I squeeze her closer.
“I’m sorry.”
She’s quiet a moment.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
She sighs and rolls away from me to stare at the top of the tent. My eyes follow, and I spot a tiny rip in the fabric, just barely noticeable. It reminds me of an unpatched tear in a broken heart that will only worsen if it’s never repaired.
“What are the chances of her baby surviving this virus?”
I stop breathing, and the sudden stillness of my lungs causes my heart to thunder more loudly, vibrating through my chest. I don’t like the question. In fact, I’ve forced myself not to think about this question. Because it encompasses not just Diana’s unborn baby, but every unborn baby. My unborn babies. And Kate’s.
I swallow. “One in three.”
She turns her head to look at me, her hands folded over her stomach.
“Her first child was taken from her. Perhaps he’s the one who lived.”
I lift my hand, brush a piece of chocolate-colored hair from her eye. “You said babies were taken away all the time—for lots of reasons.”
“Were they?” she asks. “Or perhaps it was for this reason alone.”
“You can’t know whether or not her first baby had the virus.” I roll onto my side, raising up on my elbow to gaze down at her. “As terrible as it is to think it, maybe he did.”
Her dark eyes stay glued to my face, the beginnings of tears causing the color to deepen with a shiny hue. I run my fingertips across her cheek.
“Listen. We have too many other things to think about right now. Until we know for sure that Diana’s baby is sick, we can’t jump to conclusions. Okay?”
Her eyes soften, and she gives me a quick smile. “Okay.”
I lie back, keeping my eyes connected with hers. “Isn’t there some scripture about not worrying or something?”
Her smile deepens. “As a matter of fact, there is.” She shifts her eyes to the ceiling again. “I’m not very good with that one.”
She licks her lips, rose-colored with health, and I suddenly want to kiss her. So I do.
Her mouth responds to me with a hunger she’s never expressed before, and warmth gathers up inside me. A desire growls, howling her name like a wolf who’s imprinted on his mate, and it feels right. I understand how much this one girl was made for me. Created to be everything I
will ever need in a partner. I want to face the rest of my life—good or bad—with her by my side.
I pull away, tearing our lips apart with a sharp smack, and her breath catches. She blinks sleepily, her hands on my chest.
“I love you,” I whisper.
She smiles, runs her fingers through my hair.
“And I love you.”
I press my lips to her forehead before peering down at her. “Things will be different once all of this is over.”
Her mouth parts slightly, and for some reason, her eyes scare me—because I see a hesitation in them. But I don’t give her a chance to speak.
“You can meet my parents and my sister. We can tell them that God is real and show them the Scriptures. And we never have to be apart again. It’ll be great.”
She nods. “Yes. But . . . I’m still an Outsider.”
She creases her brows so innocently that I laugh, leaning away from her slightly.
“What?” she demands.
“Well, I have a feeling after this, we’ll have moved beyond that problem.” I lie back. “The world I once knew is gone. And this world is as different for me as it was for you when you discovered the Village wasn’t the only one after all.”
“What are you saying?”
I roll my head to look at her. “I’m saying, we know too much now about Eden. About what the Board has done.” I sigh and stare at the rip again. “About what Doc is doing. The term ‘outsider’ is about to become obsolete in Eden.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ll make sure of it.”
Kate nods and turns her eyes away from me.
“Are you going with the Rovers?”
Her question unfolds that deep-seated urge in me. The one that says I’ll do what I want and no one will stop me. But for some reason, I have reservations. I feel an obligation to defer to Rob. The Rovers, they are new to me, and they are exciting, and my blood boils when I think about what they have seen . . . what they have accomplished in their lifetime. But I don’t want to bully my way into this mission. It’s important to me that they acknowledge that I’m an asset. I want Rob to need me, and I will honor his decision, whatever it is.
“I don’t know yet.” I take her hand, raise it to my lips, kiss her fingertips. “I’m waiting for Rob to decide.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
I sigh. “I know. But you know I have to if he lets me. I can’t sit back and do nothing if the Rovers really think they could use me.”
“And you want them to need you, don’t you?”
I settle my eyes on her face. Every time, I’m blown away by how beautiful she is. I’m even more blown away that she’s mine, and that I know for certain that it was no coincidence that brought us together. God did this.
“Yes,” I answer. “I want to be doing something. But—” I break off, my thoughts going dark. “I don’t want to kill anyone else.”
I sit up abruptly as my mind reels. I see the lives I’ve already taken. Five lives gone, just like that. What is it like for a soldier who spends his day in battle, taking hundreds of lives? How does that feel? My heart speeds up, and I take a deep breath.
“Perhaps you won’t have to kill anybody else.”
Kate’s eyes, sweet and chocolaty, stay pinned on me, and when I connect with them, my heart slows.
“I doubt that.” I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “I may not even be able to stop it. The Serum . . .” I shake my head again. “I haven’t had enough training yet.”
“But you have a different kind of strength to lean on now.”
I sigh, and my eyes fall on a copy of the Scriptures sticking out of the side of my pack. Aaron gave it to me just before bed last night with orders to read it. I reach for it now, leaf through a few pages.
“It’s still new to me, too,” I admit.
She pushes herself up and crosses her legs beneath her, facing me.
“I know. But at least we have a hope—whatever we may have to face.”
“Yeah,” I smile taking a fistful of her dark, loose curls and draping the tips through my fingers. She draws her knees to her chin, and her lips tip at the corner with the beginnings of a smile before it fades.
“How many times can we escape Death?” she asks.
My hand stills, the ends of her hair tickling my palm. I think for only a minute before I tilt my head to one side.
“We already did,” I answer.
She lifts her eyes. I hold up the book.
“We get to live for eternity no matter what happens to us here on Earth. Death already lost when Yeshua rose from the dead.” I catch her cheek in my palm. “We believe it, and that changes everything.” I take her hand, fold my fingers through hers, palm to palm. “And so I’m yours . . . and you're mine. And we’re His. Forever. ”I straighten with a kind of shock as the thought penetrates. A revelation. “It really means something now.”
With a smile, she covers my hand with hers, and she kisses me—soft and sweet and quick.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” Her dark eyes hone in.
I shrug, squeeze the book to my chest. “We could pray,” I suggest.
“Okay.”
I set the Scriptures aside and take both of her hands. We bow our heads, and say our very first prayer together.
It’s one of the sweetest moments of my life.
Chapter 31
A
t least an hour slides by with Kate in my arms, and the world seems to come to a standstill for a little while. I’m not a fool; I know it’s only a small break from the danger that threatens us. But I pull her closer and revel in every minute of it.
Soon, I’m proven right. Shouts outside the tent followed by a thundering of feet push the world into movement again. I slide to the entrance and pull back the flap.
A few Rovers gather just outside, talking, but none of them seem too anxious. I pull the flap wider, straining to see around the side of the tent. Nothing. Another shout in the distance. The group of Rovers turns toward the sound but stay put. I perk my ears as another flock of shouts soars over the trees. I’m on my knees just inside the tent.
A rumble of voices echoes. One of the Rovers shakes his head with a snort.
“Rookie,” he mumbles.
“What is it?” Kate asks. She leans over to peer around me.
“Not sure.” I crawl through the opening and bounce to my feet.
Penelope’s family lounges around their campfire a few yards away. Aaron holds a metal cup, steam rising off the rim and disappearing in the cool morning air. He stands, turns toward the commotion, concern threading through his features. Thomas kneels beside him clutching a large branch in his hand like a sword, his eyes wide as he watches another group run past in the direction of the shouts. Aaron takes a slow sip of his tea and meets Claudia’s eyes where she sits twisting Sophia’s hair into a thick braid. Penelope fries up breakfast over the fire.
I study them for a moment—this family who risked everything when they welcomed me into their home—and my heartbeat thuds in my throat. They had no idea what they were getting into, and it was the worst possible time to show hospitality to a guy from Eden, but they did it anyway. They nursed Kate back to health; they fed us, protected us . . . loved us.
Because of them, my life will never be the same.
My eyes fall over Claudia, and I watch her hands for a minute, her fingers working the braid. Her eyes connect with mine, and I’m suddenly transported back to that room. I know she’s seeing what I see. But then, she smiles, and it’s like sunshine breaking through impossible clouds. And if I didn’t know what I now know about her faith, I would never believe that she could smile ever again. But I do know, and she can smile.
A few yards away, Evan Rice sips his mug without a care in the world. Intimidating as always, he keeps his head down, ignoring everything and everyone around him. But I’m just curious enough to approach him. I lift a friendly hand as I make my way over t
o casually ask my question.
“What’s all the shouting about?”
He takes his time lifting his head—even takes another long sip before he stands.
He towers over me by about three or four inches, a thin rough beard outlining his jaw. His eyes are dark and hard, and they tell a story. A story of the things he’s seen in his line of work—unmentionable things that I don’t care to know. I swallow, waiting, and eventually, he nods toward the trees where intermittent shouts still echo back.
“Our new recruit,” he answers. “You know him.”
I frown. “Kyle Stevenson?”
“That’s right.” He pauses, too long in my opinion—before he says, “He’s gone off in the head.”
I’m taken aback by the answer. “What?”
“The prisoner?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “The guy who won’t talk. What about him?”
“Apparently, he pissed Stevenson off.”
“How did he manage that? He’s tied to a tree.”
“Couldn’t say.” He takes another drink, smacks his lips. “Stevenson isn’t your average Rover. Our training is extensive and rigorous—something he didn’t undergo himself.” After a minute, he nods. “I suppose we should go find out what the damage is.”
I leave him, duck inside my tent for my bow.
“What’s happening?” Kate ask. I fling my bow across my back and settle the quiver on my shoulder.
“Kyle,” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m going with Evan to check it out.”
Diana slips out of their tent, her blue eyes searching my face. Kate comes to her feet.
“That Rover.” She nods toward Evan. “I heard what he said. You have someone tied to a tree?”
I sigh, and remembering my promise to never keep things from her again, I face her.
“Jeb caught someone.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet. A soldier, maybe. He hasn’t said one word.” I shake my head. “It’s like someone’s got his tongue?”
She lifts her brows. I smile, squeezing her hand.
“It’s just an expression.”
“Why don’t you girls come eat?”
Aaron’s voice, interrupts us across the short distance. He nods at me knowingly. I toss him a grateful smile and squeeze Kate’s elbow once more before I take off for the copse of trees where the prisoner is still tied to the tree.