The Cross (Alliance Book 2)

by Inna Hardison

  She told him finally about finding Reston, the city with nobody in it, and all that happened there. About the way Stan looked at her and Ams at first, and then finding that field of bones and knowing why he thought of them that way. And how Ella took the tag out of Drake there, and Stan gave Ella her voice back.

  And she told him about how it changed her, being in Reston after she knew what her people did to everybody there. How she thought the implant in her could make her do horrible things. Maybe not now, but someday, because it didn’t make sense for anyone to do something so awful to someone else on their own, without something making them do it. Told him how she asked Stan to get it out of her, hoping that he could, and him drawing it for her on a pad, the tiny connected dots inside a drop of blood, and telling her that he couldn’t get it out of her, out of any of them. And how she almost killed herself with Drake’s mushrooms after he told her that, to make sure her implant never hurt anybody, only Ams and Riley wouldn’t let her.

  She stopped then, not looking at him, just breathing. He reached over and took her small hand in his, wrapping his fingers around it as tightly as he could without hurting her, feeling every kind of wrong for asking her to tell him any of this.

  “I am sorry, Laurel. You don’t need to keep going. You don’t need to tell me anything.”

  He had no right to make her remember this for him. He knew he couldn’t help her fix how she felt, make her un-see any of what she had seen. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting for her to go, but she didn’t go. She took a deep breath and kept going.

  She told him about leaving Reston, and about finding the waterfall, and she seemed happy telling him about that. He thought of Riley looking like he wanted to go to the water earlier, and knew now why he didn’t. She told him how after the waterfall, the next morning, she knew for sure for the first time that Ams really loved Riley, and that something changed for the two of them, because Riley was smiling all morning after that, couldn’t help smiling, and Riley never really smiled. And finally, she told him how she saw Drake running to them, a worried look on his face, and Riley telling them to move back, but they were all making too much noise, so they stopped, and Riley was on the ground watching the smoke from the fire that spooked Drake like that, an awful lot of smoke, and then he was running out there, running through the trees and screaming his name.

  He put his head down at that. He knew the rest of it. She didn’t move, didn’t take her hand away from him. He could barely hear her breathing. He looked at her, made himself do it, to make sure she was all right after telling him all of this, but she just sat unmoving, calm, staring at some spot in front of her.

  “I know you don’t want to let me help you, Brody. And I think I know why, and it’s not just because you gave Riley your word. You don’t want me or anyone to help you because you don’t think you deserve it. In the same way you won’t eat, or let anyone be kind to you. That’s the real reason.” She looked at him when she said it, and he lowered his eyes. She was right, of course, but he wished she didn’t quite figure him out like that.

  She turned to him, making him look at her, “I am sorry for making you uncomfortable. Sometimes I just don’t know to keep my mouth shut. But this, what I want to do, this isn’t about you, Brody. One way or another, I am going to go back, by myself if I have to. At least this way it’ll mean something to somebody, and you can keep me safe until I get there. But I am going, no matter what you or Riley or Ams say. Unless you are willing to put one of those bands on me, I am going.”

  She got up, and walked to the door of the cave, and then turned around, looking at him with sadness in her eyes, “I need to know something, Brody.”

  He nodded, looking up at her.

  “Would you have gotten Ella and me back if Riley didn’t trick you?”

  He slid up the wall fast, too fast, scraping his back against the rocks, anger making his face burn, “You think…. What kind of a monster do you think I am?” But of course it made sense for her to think that. It’s the only damn thing that made any sense. He shook his head at her apologetically, “I am sorry, Laurel. I am not angry at you for asking this. It makes sense. I am okay with it, I promise, but you can’t come here trying to talk to me again.” He hoped he didn’t sound angry when he said it. He tried his best not to. He just needed her gone. Needed to be left the hell alone. By all of them.

  She walked back to him, and without asking, wrapped her small hands around the fists he was making. He wanted to shove her away from him, and if it were Riley or anyone but this girl, he would have, but he couldn’t do that to her, so he stood still, letting her keep her hands on his, making himself look into her serious, blue eyes. He deserved this, this girl thinking the worst of him, but it still hurt.

  “I don’t think you are a monster, Brody, but I think that you do. That’s why I asked. To see if it would hurt you. I am glad it did.”

  He felt himself flinch and wished she wasn’t standing close enough to see it.

  She let go of his hands, and kept going, much softer now, “You said earlier you weren’t like Riley, but you are exactly like him in this. He, too, punishes himself in the stupidest ways for all the things that aren’t really his fault; all but the one, maybe. He didn’t care if Ams shot him when she found him on the lawn at the compound. He had her hold the gun against his chest asking her to pull the trigger, and then didn’t care if she took him to Hassinger, even after what that woman did to him. He thought he deserved it somehow, because he failed, because he didn’t think he could save his sister after all.

  “And the only bad thing I ever saw him do, I think it would have killed him if Ams didn’t come around and started talking to him again. He bullied her into coming with him, using me as bait. She didn’t want to run, but I did, so he told her he’d take me but only if she came too. I didn’t tell you that part. Ams wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. I had to take his food to him and put HealX on his scars, and I watched him do what you are doing, watched it for days. Punishing himself, looking as if he wished he were dead, not eating, not speaking either. All those horrible things you did, or think you did, he did all of them too, in his own way, only he did them to a little girl who didn’t even know him well enough to like him yet, not to his best friend. But you are like him, whether you see it or not… I am sorry I hurt you, Brody. I needed to know for sure who you are. I think I do now, and we will talk again,” and she left then, and he didn’t know what to do about her after that.

  Riley came in, looking at him in his old Riley way, but he didn’t know how to tell him any of this yet, so he slid back down the wall and shook his head at his friend, and he let him be. He watched Riley dig through his bag, and pull out a shirt. The one he had on was wet for some reason. He pulled it off, too much light landing on all the scars he could see above his bandages, thin white lines diagonally drawn across his back. He felt sick looking at it, after what Laurel just told him.

  “I am going to kill her, Riley. Someday. I will find her, and I will kill her.”

  Riley turned around, surprised look on his face, “Kill who, Brody?”

  Of course. He had no way of knowing that he knew how he got those scars.

  “Hassinger. I am going to kill her.”

  Riley crouched in front of him, concerned look on his face.

  “I had Laurel tell me what happened to you, to all of you. I think she told me everything she thought I could take. And then some things I don’t think she meant to tell me. You and Ams things. I think she wanted to go back even before me. Because of all the sadness, the sadness on you at the compound after what you did to Ams, the way Stan made her feel, the field in Reston. I think she means to go back, Riley, and I don’t think any of us can stop her.”

  “I know. But we can’t let her. At least not until we know she’ll be safe. I don’t trust them, Brody, the Alliance, only now, after what you told me about Trina, I don’t trust us either. It’s like they are all playing some kind
of game, and none of us know what it is or why they are doing it. I need to know for sure she’ll be okay if she goes back, and until I do, she can’t go anywhere. We can’t let her.”

  He nodded, letting Riley know that he was with him on this if he needed him.

  “Brody, whatever Laurel told you about me and Ams, she did it for a reason. She gets people, reads them somehow. It’s like she can see through everybody. Her telling you that, she meant well by it, and I don’t mind you knowing. I’m actually glad that you do. I am not the saint you think I am, Brody. Never was.”

  He left him alone after that, and he didn’t want to think about Laurel and all the things she just told him, so he made himself think through everything he learned about the Alliance in the last few years, trying to connect it all up so it made sense, but he couldn’t do it. Riley was right, it wasn’t adding up. But Hassinger would know. They just had to get their hands on her, and make her talk. He still had her on the ECH. All he had to do was tell her that he had one of the replenishers. She’d come for that. And he’d make her talk, and then he would kill her. He went through Riley’s bag and found his comm, and typed in the GPS numbers for a secluded spot he scouted with his crew a while ago. It was about a six-hour walk from here, if they didn’t slack off. So he punched in the time-stamp of tomorrow at six in the evening. It should give her plenty of time to find a private flier and get Trina.

  He told her that she wasn’t going anywhere with the girl until he had Trina, and that if she were smart, she’d come alone, as he’d have most of his well trained crew on standby, and she didn’t want him to have to reach out to his crew for this. He signed off, and for the first time felt hungry enough to eat. He joined the others at the fire, ignoring the angry looks from Drake and Ams, just listening to them talk, and he hoped Riley didn’t kill him tomorrow morning when he’d have to tell him what he just did.

  One way or the other, tomorrow all of this will be over. He needed for this to be over, before he completely lost himself to his anger, to the relentless chase for Trina and to the guilt he went to sleep with every night for his parents, and guilt for what he had done to Riley. He just had to make it through the night now. That much he could manage.

  SEVEN STEPS

  Trina

  [Crylo, May 16, 2233]

  She expected someone to come and ask her questions or at least tell her what they wanted from her, but nobody came. She’d been locked up in this box for two days and nobody came to tell her anything. When she woke up the first morning after they brought her here, there was a small plastic tray with a cup and a small thermos of some dark brown liquid. It wasn’t tea, she could smell that much. She poured out a small sip and tasted it, spitting it out. It was thick and bitter. There was a silver box next to the strange liquid that she couldn’t open at first, couldn’t figure it out, and then finally she did. She didn’t know what she was looking at. Didn’t have names for any of it.

  There was a round orange thing, cut up into four pieces. She liked the way it smelled, but after the stuff in the thermos, she was going to have to be more careful. She ran the tip of her index finger against one of the slices and licked it. It was the strangest thing she’d ever tasted. Sweet and tart and perfumy, the smell mingling with the taste. This she could eat, and she did, juice running down her chin and dripping onto the tray. The only other thing in the box was a white square bar. She tasted it first, in the same way she did with the round orange thing, and it tasted like sweetened milk and something else she couldn’t quite place, but it was decent enough, so she ate that too, and then walked over to the sink and washed her face and hands under cold water. She rinsed out the thermos and filled it up with water at the sink and drank that.

  She slept again after that, thinking of Brody, making his face show up in her head, his eyes looking at her in a way that made her insides feel warm. She knew she did the right thing, sending him away like that, but it didn’t help her not miss him. She must have slept most of the day, because when she woke up, her old tray was gone and there was a new one on the floor next to her bed. This one was red. She was paying attention to all these clues now, as there was no way for her to see what time it was, not even if it was day or night. So this would be dinner. And she couldn’t eat any of it. She couldn’t even bring herself to smell it. She moved the tray away from her, not that it helped in this small space, and went back to her cot. She wasn’t that hungry yet anyway. At worst, she knew she wouldn’t starve if she just ate the stuff on the white trays from now on.

  She needed something to do to occupy herself, something that would make the time stop moving so slowly. She got up and started taking mental notes of everything she saw through the walls and the floor of this box. It still made her feel a bit uneasy when she looked through the floor, but only when she was thinking about it. She didn’t notice feeling sick earlier walking on it, she remembered that. The people walking around below her looked impossibly small. She could barely tell men from women from so high up, and she only figured out that much because she could see women’s dresses or skirts dragging on the floor around their feet.

  Men’s legs looked like black matchsticks, nothing flowing around them at all. There seemed to be about an equal number of both here, she noted. None of these little people below her seemed to be aware she was stuck in this box, dangling over them. They never seemed to look up. She could see where the door to the building was from here, as that seemed to generate the most people traffic, but she couldn’t see anything through that door. She would have liked to be able to see outside if only to know if it was day or night. It felt strange, not knowing something so basic. Through the sides, all she could see were empty hallways and an elevator shaft just to her right. That was it. Not much she could learn by looking at any of it, so she slept again, not knowing what else to do.

  At least she could dream when she was sleeping, and she was getting pretty good at dreaming about Brody, and Waller, and all the things she loved there, and about her parents. She didn’t want to dream about them now. She pushed their faces away from behind her eyes and was looking at Brody’s head, bent in front of her. She was running her fingers through his hair, counting the gold streaks, comforting him. He ran to her without a jacket of any kind, just in his t-shirt in the middle of January, looking entirely out of sorts. Brody never looked like that. She dragged him inside, slamming the door at the cold that followed him, put a warm blanket on him, one of her mother’s, and ran into the kitchen to heat up some tea. He stood at the door, right where she left him when she came back out again. She had to take him by the hand and walk him into the kitchen as if he were a little kid, and make him sit down, hoping he would just spit it out, whatever this bad thing was, so that she didn’t have to pry. And finally he did, three words, “Andy is dying,” and there wasn’t anything she could do to make him feel any better then.

  She made him his tea, without any sugar in it, and put the steaming mug in front of him, but he just put his head down, so many gold streaks spilling onto the table in front of her. She couldn’t tell if he was crying, couldn’t see his face at all, but she hoped he was, hoped he trusted her enough to do it in front of her if he needed to. Andy was all he had left of family, she knew that. And she knew how much he loved that man. She knew he went to that warehouse every day after dropping her off from school, running to that depressing place in the old part of town, even when it was really nice outside and he could have been doing anything else he wanted, like the rest of the kids. But Brody never was like the rest of the kids. He stuck to this routine for as long as they were together, only taking the occasional off day when she begged him to, for her, and she always felt a little guilty asking him not to go to Andy’s on those days.

  He looked up at her finally, eyes without any suns in them, dark and sad, “They can’t fix it. The thing that’s killing him, nobody here can fix it, and he won’t try to get help anyplace else. I tried to make him do it, but he… He. Just. Won’t. Go,” and the head went ba
ck on the table again, and she was pretty sure he was crying now, so she walked around him and hugged him with all the weight she could put on him, letting him cry it all out without the embarrassment of looking at her. After too long of this, he stood up, slowly, looked at her for a long time and then kissed her softly on her forehead, “Riley doesn’t know. I don’t know how to tell him yet. I don’t know if I want him to know.” She nodded to him and he left. She knew he needed some time to be alone with this, however he needed to.

  The white tray was exactly the same as the last time when she woke up, only this time she dumped the containers of the thermos into the sink without even looking and immediately regretted it. This liquid looked very much like tea, and smelled right, but it was too late now. Somebody must have been watching her for them to know that she didn’t drink the other thing. She ate the round orange thing and the milky bar, and paced around the box. Seven small steps in any direction. No wonder they called it a cage, she thought without humor, only if she were in the cage, she was supposed to have a bloody audience at the very least.