Gravity (The Taking)

by Melissa West

  “Tell me,” I say.

  “I just overheard— It could be nothing. I mean, they can’t. It’s—”

  “Tell me,” I repeat, not dropping my eyes from his.

  “Execution base. They’re talking about bringing everyone who’s infected to one location to be”—he swallows hard—“disposed of. I heard Mom say it would be too expensive to send Operatives to issue R1 serum and they weren’t sure what to do with the bodies if they did it at the centers. So one site, one blast that kills everyone and incinerates the bodies.”

  “What?” Mom shrieks as her phone crashes to the ground.

  “It hasn’t been approved yet, Claire,” Dad says from behind her as he walks into the room. We all wait anxiously to see what else he might say. “But the testing has already been announced, and they do plan to make arrests. I had to bring in reinforcements.” He closes his eyes, and I realize for the first time just how hard this is for him. He took it hard when Mom told him, refusing to believe it until he saw me, and then he questioned me again and again before finally, his face fell and he left my room without another word. I had never seen him look so…broken, and even now, the thought brings tears to my eyes. I never meant to hurt my parents in this way, though I suppose becoming an Ancient wasn’t by choice. Still…I feel like it was, like I brought this on myself and now I can’t undo it.

  “I requested a home inspection, along with most of Process,” he says. “Of course they agreed. Our appointment is tomorrow. That’s the best I can do.” He slumps in a chair across from me. Law sits next to me on the sofa.

  “How are you feeling?” Gretchen asks, her first words to me since she arrived, and that alone tells me more than anything she could say. She’s not just worried, she’s afraid, something I’ve never before said of her, and that realization, coupled with Dad’s morose expression, is enough to make me want to scream. I may die, but I won’t have everyone else suffering my death while I’m still here, breathing.

  I consider voicing my thoughts, but I can’t bring myself to be harsh. Not now. “Fine, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

  “Fine?” Mom says. “You’re not fine. You’re infected and dying and I’m your mother and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing. I’ve tried. I can’t figure it out. I don’t know what to do. Someone tell me what to do. I’m not supposed to outlive you. I…can’t…outlive my daughter…” She breaks into sobs. I reach for her, but Dad finds her first, burying her head in his shoulder.

  “What if I have a solution? It’s not ideal, but if it would save Ari, would you agree?” Lawrence asks.

  “What is it?” we all say in unison.

  “Well, I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, so how about this—I’ll be back tonight, hopefully with our solution.” He leans down and kisses my forehead before heading out the door.

  The rest of the afternoon creeps along. I’m getting sicker by the second, my body falling apart, but my mind refuses to shut down. If I could sleep then maybe I wouldn’t feel so horrible…and so helpless. The news is unbearable. People are dying all across the world, not just here. So many infected. People die walking down the street, on the tron, as they wait in line to be checked for the infection. Parliament calls it the first epidemic in modern history. The Chemists—who created the neurotoxin—can’t seem to find a way to reverse its spread. It amazes me that Parliament approved the release of a toxin that we had no way of undoing. Are humans really that stupid? We throw a chemical into our atmosphere without a second thought of how it may impact us, the humans? Unbelievable.

  My skin is no longer ivory. It’s like the sky just before rain. Gray and miserable. My body wants to die. I can feel it caving in on itself, begging my mind to let go. But I can’t. I won’t. Mom keeps giving injections, each targeting a different side effect, and all only successful for a few minutes before the poison burns through them. I wonder if this is what the elderly feel like just before death. Our society gives an option—natural death or an injection of R1, a serum that causes instant, painless death. Most choose natural, and now I understand why. Suffering, while horrible, still gives the inkling of hope. Maybe the infection will pass. Maybe one of Mom’s concoctions will work. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  I glance back to the T-screen and see another news bulletin. “Volume up.” The sound returns just as the anchor declares, “Mandatory containment.” Everyone infected will be detained to guarantee the survival of the human species. My mouth drops as what they’re saying—or rather what they aren’t saying—sinks in. The execution base. They plan to bring us in to kill us. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. My breathing escalates, panic overtaking me.

  Mom walks in and asks if I need anything, but the look on my face causes her to rush to my side. “What is it?” she says, placing her hand on my forehead then cheek.

  I point to the screen. “They’re going to kill us, Mom. They aren’t giving us a chance. They won’t even wait to see if the Chemists can reverse it.”

  Mom swallows hard, and I know she’s trying to hold herself together for me, to ease my fears with her strength. She takes my hand and holds it close to her. We’re both too speechless to say anything more. It’s a matter of time, anyway, I guess. Everyone dies. My time just came sooner than most.

  I’m about to command the T-screen off when the screen jolts and someone else appears there, someone unexpected. Zeus.

  “Volume up, volume up!” I scream.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Zeus says. “As you just learned, your government has issued mandatory containment for all infected members of the population.” His head twitches then he blurts out, “Population: the whole number of inhabitants in an area or region.” His face relaxes and he continues as though the interruption didn’t occur. “Surely by now you realize what they mean by containment. That is how much your government cares about its people. I offer you another alternative. At five p.m. today, we will open all ports to Loge. Anyone infected who chooses to be healed may join us on our planet. We welcome you. I have only one caveat: choosing to come to Loge means you turn your back on mankind. We will attack Earth. We will win. Choosing to join us means choosing to live. There is no dishonor in living. The ports will close one hour after opening. I bid you farewell for now and hope to see many of you soon.”

  The T-screen cuts to black, then a scene over in Landings Park appears. People are on the street chanting, “No assisted killing! Just say no! No assisted killing! We won’t go!” They repeat the words over and over. Then the screen turns black again. Zeus couldn’t have timed his announcement better. People are angry and afraid. He just guaranteed them life. The only thing they have to do is disown a government that plans to kill them. It’s so simple it’s laughable.

  “Power off,” Mom says. We sit for a long moment, saying nothing. Then Mom slides in beside me at the foot of the sofa, resting my legs on her lap. “Do you remember the stories Grandma Bea used to tell?”

  I smile for the first time all day. Grandma Bea—Mom’s mother—used to tell us outlandish stories about her past.

  “One time,” Mom says, “she told me there were divers that dove way into the ocean, just to see what was down there. She said the ocean was full of colors, more colors than the rainbow. Nothing like the ocean our tablets describe.”

  “Do you believe her stories?”

  “I don’t know, but I can promise you this.” Her eyes brim with tears. “If we survive this, if you survive this, we will go.”

  I sit up, despite the weakness. “To the ocean?”

  “Everywhere. We will travel everywhere. I will show you the mountains, the ocean, the desert. I will show you everything I was never brave enough to show you before. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to give your life depth.” Tears rush down her face. I grasp her hand, but I won’t let myself cry. Not now. I don’t want her to think for a second that she did anything wrong by me or my life. I had a life, a wonderful life, because of her, not in s
pite of her.

  I’m about to tell her that when Law enters the room. Mom and I both jerk up. His face shows signs of worry…and glistens with sweat. “Hey,” he says, sitting down on the table in front of me. “Everything’s in place. Now the waiting.”

  “But what are we waiting for?” Mom asks. “Did you see what your mom just issued?”

  He lowers his eyes. “I know. I wasn’t there when she made the decision. Not that she would listen to me anyway. I haven’t told anyone about Ari,” he says. “I wouldn’t—”

  Mom tosses up a hand. “Enough. Please tell us what you’re doing. What’s your plan?”

  Law bites his lip, hesitating. Then he sighs. “Well, Zeus’s message today made my plan easier. I sent a message to Loge requesting for Ari to go live there. Now all we have to do is get Ari to a direct port before five p.m. I’m sure they’ll be crowded and we only have one in Sydia. But they have healers. She’ll—”

  “What?” Mom screams. “She’s not going there. How could you make such a decision without consulting us? We’re her parents!”

  He starts to respond but stops. I can see by his expression what he’s about to say. He didn’t act without consulting my parents. Dad knows his plan.

  Mom shakes her head in a spasm of anger, and then suddenly she stops, her face as still as stone. “Lawrence, how did you know how to contact Loge?”

  His eyes dart from Mom to me, unsure of what she may know and what I may want to keep from her. I nod. It’s time we gave my mom the respect she deserves. “Um, well—” he starts, but I cut him off. It should come from me.

  “Mom, Jackson is technically only half Ancient.”

  Her mouth falls. “Half Ancient?”

  “Yes,” Lawrence says. “His mother is human.”

  “And how do you…?” Mom asks.

  Law focuses on her. “Because he’s my brother.”

  Mom then starts quizzing Lawrence about his past. Why isn’t he half Ancient, too? Which is simple. His father is human. Why did his mom send Jackson away? Then more and more questions about Loge, finally ending the questions by asking if he’s ever been there. I expect him to say no, but when he pauses before answering, my eyes jerk to his.

  “Not until today,” he says.

  “What was it like?” I say, unable to stop myself.

  He pauses again, collecting his thoughts. “Like a dream…only better. I found myself wishing…” He lowers his head. “Well, wishing I were the one sent there instead of Jackson.”

  I’m about to respond when a simultaneous pounding from Dad’s private entrance and a knocking at the door jars us from the conversation. Mom and Law stand as Dad rushes into the room. “They came early. They’re here. I tried to get here first.”

  Worry and dread hang in the air. The Chemists came to check for infection, but they won’t even have to test me; it’s obvious I’m infected. My heart hits in my chest. I wasn’t afraid before, but now that death is literally knocking on my door I want more time. I need more time. My eyes dart to the back patio. Maybe I can run. I try to get up and collapse back down, my legs no longer strong enough to hold me.

  Law scoops me into his arms. “I’ll carry her outside. Tell them she’s not here; they’ll have to come back to test her. You’re the commander. They won’t argue.”

  Dad buries his head in his hands. “She’ll worsen outside. It’s more potent air. She might…”

  “What choice do we have, Grexic?” Mom says and nods to Lawrence.

  Law leans in close and whispers into my ear. “Try not to breathe. You’re strong—remember that.”

  I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. I hear the patio doors slide open and feel the air rush past me. It’s like instant food poisoning. My stomach flips and my body shakes. I consider opening my eyes, but with them closed at least Law won’t see how bad it is.

  He eases down the back steps and into the forest edge, hiding us from view. I think of all the times I’ve walked through these trees with Jackson, always fearing them, and now they protect me. It’s amazing how ironic life can be. I draw another weak breath, trying to pull in as little air as possible, but this second breath cuts through me. I won’t survive this.

  My head bobs to my chest and I feel myself being pulled under, in and out of consciousness. I see my family, Lawrence, Gretchen—Jackson. I see my life before him and how complicated it became after him. I wish I could ask him why. But it’s too late for that. Why no longer matters. I feel Law moving and try to open my eyes to see what’s happening. I strain to listen, but all I hear is a soft hmmm. The air changes around me. We’re back inside my house, where it’s easier to breathe, if only marginally. He lays me down on a sofa.

  “Baby girl,” Mom says, cupping her hands around my face, “can you hear me?”

  She continues to talk, her words moving in and out as though she’s far away. “I hear you,” I say, though I’m not sure whether the words are in my mind or voiced out loud. Wetness covers my cheek. She’s crying. I want to tell her to stop and that everything will be okay. My eyes blink; my head becomes heavier. I don’t want this misery anymore.

  “Ari, talk to me,” she urges. “Please, talk to me.” She shakes me, then she says something to Dad and I feel her leave my side. She returns a few seconds later and whispers, either to herself or to me, I’m not sure, “Please, let this work.” And I feel the prick and burn of another injection.

  Nothing happens for what feels like forever. I can hear, but I can’t speak or open my eyes. No one says anything, but I can tell they’re all there, waiting, watching me for a response. Then…then, it feels as though fresh air blows through the room, into my lungs, helping me breathe. I draw in a long, satisfying breath and open my eyes. When I look around, I realize Gretchen is here, which means I must have been out for a while.

  Mom comes back into the room just as I’m looking around and rushes over, tears spilling down her face. “Thank goodness.” She starts laughing, and I think she’s delirious until I glance around and see Dad, pale as snow, and Law with eyes wide. They must have thought I died.

  “Can I have something to eat?” I ask, realizing I’m starving.

  After Mom gives me something to eat and some water, everyone settles down, relieved. I feel so much better that I’m afraid to trust it, waiting for the sickness to return, but after half an hour, I’m stronger, finally able to stand on my own.

  “What did you give me?” I ask Mom.

  “I was so afraid,” Mom says. “It’s never been tested. I had no idea what would happen, and when you didn’t wake, I thought…I thought.” She clears her throat. “It’s a healing serum, like healing gel but more potent. The one I told you about. I’ve been working on it for months. I’m not sure how long it will last.”

  I nod, worry creeping into my mind. This may be temporary. I walk over to the window that overlooks our street and peer out, loving the sight of the sun, wishing I could go outside, but I’m afraid. I’m about to step away when something catches my eye. There are Operatives stationed outside every house, all of them armed. “What are they…?” Then a high-pitched scream comes from the Roman house across from us. A guard carries their ten-year-old daughter from the house, her mom screaming and beating against the Operative the entire way, until another Op on the steps blocks her. Everyone in my house rushes to the windows, opening the blinds to expose the full picture of what’s happening, the full horror.

  An Engineer truck sits at the end of our street with the back door open. Down the street, more and more Operatives carry or march people from their homes—some young, some old, all terrified. Before long, the infected line both sides of the street, marching by gunpoint to the truck. Family and friends scream from each of the houses, but Operatives block them from doing anything more. I start for the door, but Law pulls me back. “No, you can’t go out there. They’ll know.”

  “I don’t care. We can’t stand here doing nothing.”

  “He’s right, Ari,” Dad says. “Yo
u can’t go out there.”

  I charge him, anger taking over. “You did this, didn’t you? You approved this. How could you?”

  “No,” he says. “This came from the top.” He drops his head and goes to his office, shutting the door tightly behind him.

  President Cartier. My body spasms with anger and frustration as I watch the Operatives herd the infected into the truck. The back door closes and a line of Operatives forms, stopping anyone from following. A small boy runs down the street, calling for his daddy over and over. An Operative grabs him, tossing him roughly over his shoulder. The boy cries out in pain, and then he stops crying, stops moving.

  “Mom,” I say, not taking my eyes from outside.

  “I’m here,” she says.

  “Can you get more healing serum?”

  She wrinkles her brow in confusion. “Yes, of course, why?”

  “I’ll need it when I break into the execution base.”

  CHAPTER 27

  It took me half an hour to convince them I’m not crazy. Even Gretchen, who usually trusts my ideas, wouldn’t agree until the news showed a girl from school getting carted off by the Operatives. She was the first to falter, then Law, and finally my mom, the biggest surprise of all. We decided to spend the next hour formulating a plan and preparing, partially because we still didn’t know where the execution base was located, but also because the healing serum wore off an hour after it was injected. I needed time to rest, since I didn’t want to waste so much of the serum on me. But with Zeus shutting down the portals at five and the time ticking at fifteen past two, whatever plan we came up with had to happen fast.

  Law set off to uncover the location, while Gretchen went to retrieve some weapons from her house and Mom left for the Chemist lab to get more healing serum. I have no idea how much we’ll need, but I’m guessing enough to dose a few hundred people. My job while they’re gone is to develop the plan, which is next to impossible with me getting sick every few minutes. Mom left me three vials of the serum just in case, and I decide to inject one, knowing without it I’ll never have a dependable plan before they return.