by Pintip Dunn
I suck in a breath. Of course. That’s why her symptoms were more severe than any of the others. For the ten long years that she was in her coma, she suffered from a condition where her mind was detached from her body. She realigned her mental and physical time only six months ago. It wouldn’t take much to knock it off-balance again.
“Give me the formula,” I say. “An entire month’s supply, with provisions for the others, too, because they’re all having episodes. I’ll deliver it to them.”
Her face splits into a smile. “That’s not how negotiations work, Olivia. I have something you want, you have something I want. Hand over Preston and Mikey, and I’ll give you all the formula you need.”
Ryder’s laugh sounds in my mind, short and harsh. That’s what you’ll never understand, Chairwoman, he said right before she forced me to torture him. We’re a family. That means we stick together.
He didn’t take my mother’s offer then, and I can’t take it now.
“It’s not my bargain to accept,” I whisper. “It’s not my decision to make.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Use your precognition, Olivia. Reach into the future and tell me what will happen if you don’t turn your friends in. And then tell me if that’s a future you want to live with. A future you want to be responsible for.”
“I…can’t see clearly into the future anymore,” I admit. “The pathways that involve Callie are blurry, and I’m not sure why.”
She nods sagely. “Another effect of the time stream deterioration. But go ahead. Look anyway. Even if you get a partial image of the pathways, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
I take a shuddering breath. And then another. I have a bad feeling about what’s coming. But I have no other choice.
The futures crash down on me, blurred branch after blurred branch. Partial pictures and singed-off scenes, and yet the pathways all depict variations of the same future. Callie getting sicker and sicker. Turning transparent for minutes, and then hours. Logan beside himself with despair. Mikey and Angela, distracted. Tempers flaring, words flinging. Too many episodes, not enough adults. Remi having one accident after another. Falling down a hole, wading too deeply into water, cutting herself on a sharp rock.
And Ryder. Oh Ryder. Blaming himself for his family’s ailments. Embarking on riskier and riskier missions. Inevitably, getting caught. Being punished. Lashed a hundred times with the electro-whip, forced to endure thousands of hours of the phobia reel.
Sometimes, I’m able to get them a round of formula. Maybe even two or three rounds. But what I can bring is never enough. They always need more.
Can I really subject my friends to this future? No. But I can’t break my word to them, either. They trusted me. Even Mikey. They all trusted me to keep them safe. If I turn them in now, Ryder will… He’ll never forgive me. He already gave me a second chance. No way he’ll give me a third.
I squeeze my eyes shut. What do I do? My brain is pushing me one way, but my heart is pulling another. I feel like I’m about to explode, my body ripped apart by this decision. In a choice between two evils, there’s no “lesser than.” Both options are unthinkable. Both are unbearable.
“Listen, I know this is hard for you,” my mother says gently. “But I promise your friends will be treated well. I’ll pardon them of all their crimes. They can even return to their homes in the Underground compound and live there, if they like. They’ll have the formula, Olivia. Food and shelter, all the comforts our technology has to offer.”
I massage my temples, as much to relieve the pressure as to hold my brain together. What do I do? What do I do? What would Callie do? What would Jessa?
My mother is watching me carefully, with an expression that makes a chill creep up my spine. It’s an expression that says she knows my heart, she sees my soul. An expression that suggests she knows me better than I know myself.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Olivia, but your cabin was equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment.” She tosses her head haughtily, as if to fend off any accusations before they come. “After all, you were six years old when you went into isolation. I couldn’t have you living in the woods by yourself, unsupervised. At any rate, I heard some of the things you yelled during your nightmares.” She reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “And I know how you wish you were as brave and unselfish as your friends. As Callie and Jessa.”
I freeze, every lash, every limb. Even my breath is shuttered in my throat. She was spying on me? What did she hear? What did I say?
“This is your opportunity, Olivia. Would you subject your friends to that nightmare mockery of a life, just so you can keep your word? Just so you can know that someone was thinking fondly of you? They might hate you if you turn them in, but at least they’ll be safe. At least they’ll get the treatment they need. If you truly cared about these people, if you truly cared about that boy, Ryder, you would do what’s best for them. Not what’s best for you. For once in your life, Olivia, you have the chance to be unselfish. Do it.”
I know the answer now. It came to me at some point during my mother’s speech. Even as my stomach revolts, even as my soul mourns, even as my heart withstands the jabs of a thousand swords. There’s only. One. Decision.
I open my eyes. And pray to the Father of Time to forgive me. Because Fates know, no one else will.
I tell my mother about the rendezvous point, describing its approximate location and the twisted-together tree trunks. She’ll find Preston and some of the fugitives there, I say. And if not, the directions to the next campsite will be found underneath the roots.
“Perfect,” my mother says, tapping the information into her wrist com. “And the others? Mikey? Where are they?”
I take a deep breath. “They’re hiding in a cellar in this very cabin.”
29
When I crouch in front of the cabinet and open the trap door to the cellar, Ryder’s the first one up the stairs. Limbo. He’s the last person I want to see.
The smile spreads widely, automatically, across his face, and everything inside me shrinks into a little ball.
“Are they gone?” he asks. “Is it safe?”
I don’t respond. I don’t have to.
I know the moment he glimpses the guards’ heavy black boots over my shoulder. The smile evaporates in an instant, and confusion clouds his eyes.
Ow, that hurts. That single moment when he’s not sure what happened, when he still wants to believe the best, despite the evidence stacked against me. I feel it like a dagger piercing my throat.
“Olivia?” he asks quietly. “What’s going on?”
Tears leap into my eyes. The situation is obvious, and yet, he’s still asking. He’s still hoping he’s wrong. “I’m sorry, Ryder. I messed up. I shouldn’t have brought you guys here, but I did. And now, I have no choice.”
His mouth tightens. “You always have a choice.”
“Yes,” I say. “But it’s not always the one you want to make. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be safe. Pardoned from your crimes. All the formula you need—”
I break off mid-sentence as Scar Face shoves me roughly away. “Come out, now, before I drag you out,” he growls, jabbing the electro-whip directly in Ryder’s chest.
“What are you doing?” I shriek. “He’s not a criminal. Get that thing away from him.” In response, Scar Face just pushes the electro-whip deeper.
I whirl to my mother, who is standing with her arms folded casually across her chest. “Mom! Tell him to back off!”
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” she says, and there’s not a single note of regret in her voice. “As I said, when the ends are big enough, any means will justify them. I can’t let your friends loose in society. They’re too big a risk. I said what I had to say to get what I want.”
I inhale sharply, and my heart drops like an anchor in my chest. I can’t believe it…and yet, I should’ve known. The chairwoman thinks nothing of torturing small children. She wou
ld have no qualms about lying to me.
Oh Fates. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
I try desperately to catch Ryder’s eyes, but he won’t look at me as he maneuvers his body through the open cabinet door, his movements stiff. The rest of them crawl out after him. Angela, with Remi clasped to her chest. Mikey, his eyes narrowed and glaring. Logan, who keeps his gaze down, as though he’s afraid of what his eyes might reveal, as though the monster he keeps tethered so tightly will come roaring out. And finally, Callie.
She trips on the bottom frame of the cabinet, and her body launches into Scar Face. Their eyes lock, and something moves over his features, something dark and disturbing.
“So…Callie Stone. We meet again.” The vicious smile pulls and yanks at his scar. He taps the electro-whip against his palm. “It’s been ten years, and I still haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”
She returns his smile, just as cruel, just as brutal. Before any of us can react, she brings her knee up, straight into his groin. “And you won’t forget me today.”
He doubles over, moaning. A second guard rushes forward. He’s much younger than Scar Face, much newer and more inexperienced. Not good. That will mean he has something to prove.
He flicks his finger, and the electro-whip in his hand hums to life.
Father of Time. He can’t actually mean to whip Callie.
I dart a glance at my mom, and she’s leaning against the wall now. Her face is pained, but she’s not doing a damn thing to stop the guard.
Logan steps between Callie and the ray of electricity.
“Out of my way,” the second guard growls. Scar Face has limped to the side and watches with a mixture of pride and glee. The other guards are slipping electro-cuffs on the wrists and ankles of Mikey, Angela, and Ryder, rendering them immobile.
Logan spreads his legs, blocking Callie with his body. “You will not touch her. You will not hurt my family.”
The two men size each other up. They appear equally matched with lean, muscular builds. But the guard has a distinct advantage. He has a weapon—and Logan doesn’t.
“Last warning.” The guard spits on the ground. “Move, or I’ll take out my extreme displeasure on your girlfriend.”
Logan bares his teeth. “She’s my wife. And you’ll have to get through me first.”
I grab the guard’s sleeve. “Please, I’m begging you. You don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way to punish them.”
He flicks my hand away, the energy roiling through his body. Limbo. Before I can blink, he snaps his wrist, and the whip lashes Logan directly across the chest. I feel—rather than see—the electricity sizzle through his body, and he collapses to the floor.
Callie cries out and drops next to him, pulling his head onto her lap.
“Stand up,” the guard barks. “You’re next.”
“Wait!” I say. “She’s pregnant. If you whip her, you’ll endanger the baby.”
The hand holding the electro-whip stills, as the guard looks from me to Callie.
“What are you waiting for?” Scar Face snaps. “Finish her off.”
“But Captain.” The hand lowers completely. “She’s a lady carrying a baby.”
“Then she should’ve behaved more like a lady.” Scar Face strides forward and grabs the electro-whip from his assistant. “If you can’t get the job done, I’ll do it myself.”
I start forward, but my mother grabs my shoulders. “Don’t, Olivia. We have to give the guards autonomy to act.”
I look directly into her opaque eyes. The chairwoman never shows any emotion, never gives anything away. Is that because she’s the consummate actress? Or because she has no soul? “You’re a mother, too. You know how this feels.” Or at least you should.
The chairwoman’s fingers dig in to my bones. “The child doesn’t matter, Olivia. Callie won’t live long enough for it to be born.”
Sorrow arrows into my heart. This is my fault. I made this decision. I set us on this path.
I used to think the burden of precognition was seeing tragedy in the future and being helpless to stop it. Now, I know the real pain: seeing tragedy—and choosing it anyway.
“I won’t live that long, either,” I whisper.
Callie’s still sitting on the floor. Scar Face whips back his entire arm, and the electricity arcs toward her torso. Toward Logan’s head on her lap.
I leap in front of the electricity. And it sears me instead.
30
I drift. Not quite awake but not quite asleep. Not quite dreaming but not quite aware. I’m jostled, moved from one surface to another. I hear the chatter of indistinct voices. Hands poke and prod me, injecting me with this and wrapping me with that.
At one point, I feel a soft kiss on my forehead. “I love you,” a voice says. “More than you’ll ever know. More than you can even begin to fathom.”
It sounds…a whole lot like…my mom.
But that can’t be right. The chairwoman doesn’t love me. She never has. Am I dreaming, after all? Or remembering one of my mother’s alternate pathways?
Minutes or hours later, I return to myself enough to wrench open my eyes. Red digits blink on the ceiling above me, denoting the time and date. Twelve days. I have twelve more days left to live. A wave of sadness hits me, and I feel like I’ll drown in its tide. Oh Fates, that’s not enough time! I need so many more hours, more days, more years.
“You’re awake,” a voice says.
That’s when I realize I’m lying in a bed, and somebody’s sitting next to me. But it’s not my mother. It’s Jessa.
She picks up my hand. “Thank the Fates. Logan woke hours ago. He’s a lot bigger than you, but still, we were beginning to worry. Scar Face had his electro-whip dialed to the maximum setting.”
“So that was Scar Face?” I ask. “The one you’ve been looking for this entire time?”
She nods. “I already broke into the database and cut his credits in half. Made sure the uniforms he ordered are a size too small. Put laxatives in the Drinks Assembler in his office. I only wish I’d found him sooner.”
I manage a smile, even though any petty revenge Jessa takes will never be enough. Will never take away the soul-deep pain he inflicted on both Callie and me.
I sit up, wincing. Every part of my body feels like a self-driving pod has run it over, repeatedly. “You mentioned a ‘we,’” I say hesitantly. “Who’s ‘we’? You…and my mom?”
“I meant Tanner.” She bites her lip. “I haven’t seen the chairwoman. I don’t think she’s been by to visit. Yet,” she adds awkwardly.
So. There’s my answer. That wasn’t my mother telling me she loved me. Doesn’t matter. Once upon a time, I may have indulged in daydreams about my mother’s love, but I’m not a kid anymore. Not by a long shot.
“How’s Logan?” I ask, changing the subject.
Jessa grimaces. “The medics let him stay in the recovery area for an hour after he woke up. And then, they shipped him to the detainment cells with the others.”
I jerk. “They’re in detainment? Callie, Ryder…everyone?”
“They’re criminals, Olivia. They’ve committed treason against ComA. I know they got injected with a round of the formula, but after that, they went straight to detainment.” Her words are slow, as though each one has to be individually pried from her mouth. I don’t know what’s more painful: her saying the words—or me hearing them. I knew my mother had lied to me—but I didn’t know the extent of her betrayal.
I throw myself back against the pillows. So many pillows—and so soft. What are the others sleeping on? The hard concrete floor? A mat thinner than a strand of my hair?
With a sweep of my arm, I send my pillows to the floor. I thought it would make me feel better. It doesn’t.
This is my fault. All of it. I should never have led them to Potts’s cabin. I should never have turned them in. I made the decision based on my mother’s words, based on my vision—but my precognition is faulty! Blurred pathways, missing
branches. I shouldn’t trust it.
Just like I shouldn’t trust me.
I close my eyes, disgust swirling in my stomach. When am I going to learn? I’m better off on the sidelines, following the lead of others. I have no business making decisions, especially when they affect other people.
At least I’m back at FuMA now, with Jessa. And it doesn’t look like I’ll be joining the others in detainment. I can go back to playing the role I was meant to fill. Jessa’s shadow.
“They told me how you got lashed,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Because you jumped in front of Callie—and her unborn baby.” She stops and gulps at the air. “The chairwoman stopped the guards after that, even though she wasn’t willing to do it before. Thank you. You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself. I’m so grateful.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say, my voice—and my heart—overflowing with disgust. “Don’t ever thank me, for anything, ever again. I don’t deserve it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I’m done stuffing my self-loathing into a corner of my soul, I open them again. “Have you seen them?”
“I was waiting for you.” A sound scratches out of her throat. “Silly, isn’t it? They’re only my family. I’ve dreamed about seeing them every day for the last six months. And yet…” She licks her lips. “I wanted to talk to you first. Find out if you explained. Find out…if they’ve forgiven me.”
I sigh. And wish there was another answer I could give. “I did explain, and Callie said they’d all forgiven you, except for Mikey and Ryder. But I can’t tell you how they feel anymore, about either of us, since I betrayed them. They may think we were working together.” I clench my stomach, bracing myself for her anger—or worse, her disappointment. “I’m sorry, Jessa. I really believed I had to do it. I saw into their future, and I thought the alternative was so much worse. I thought this was the only way to protect them. My mother lied to me. I didn’t know she would throw them in detainment, but I should’ve guessed.”
“I believe you.” She doesn’t push me further. I suppose she, of all people, would understand. She did the same thing, after all.