Alliance

by Leigh, Trisha

  If he’s joking, it falls flat.

  Pollyanna’s lips press in a grim line. “I’ll stay, too.”

  “No.” I shake my head, wondering where I’m getting the nerve to boss them around. “If we get into trouble or the CIA tries to pull more strong-arm crap, we’ll need you and your ability. If anyone, I should stay.”

  “Dane’s not going to talk to any of us unless you’re there,” Goose argues.

  It’s weird, but it’s the first time they’ve ever admitted to needing me, specifically. Even if it’s just because of some misguided notion they have about Dane’s affection for me, or the friendship we might have had, it straightens my back.

  “I could stay,” Haint says.

  Mole shakes his head this time. “No. Geoff can stay alone. We don’t need more than one of us to monitor a girl in sensory deprivation, and there’s a chance we’ll need everyone’s skills to get what we need.”

  Whether or not the Olders consider us prisoners, getting out while they’re gone seems to be a smart decision.

  “If Geoff’s going to stay behind, there’s no real reason to wait a day or two,” I say, my voice low. “We should leave tonight while the Olders are away.”

  From the expressions on the other Cavies’ faces, I know we’re all in agreement. We get up then, put our dirty plates in the kitchen dishwasher, and head back to the dorms to pack a few things.

  The boys go into their room and I trail Pollyanna into ours, bumping into invisible Haint on the way through the doorway. “Sorry.”

  “This sucks,” is her only reply.

  We toss the clothes we’ve amassed into bags, along with bars of soap and shared bottles of shampoo, and I grab my rocks. It doesn’t take long. The Olders didn’t give us any warning before they brought us here, which means all we had were two or three outfit changes since we’d been planning to save Flicker and leave town. At least I’d had a coat on when we went to the warehouse that morning.

  We pack in silence, the mood in the room oppressive. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re walking into the unknown yet again; or whether, after everything, we’re leaving Flicker; or if that’s just the way things are now. But whatever the reason, I don’t like it.

  “Are you wearing that?” I ask Polly, eyeing her outfit in an attempt at levity.

  She looks down at her ripped jeans and plain white T-shirt, then rolls her eyes. “Like I’d ever take fashion advice from you, Miss Prim and Proper.”

  “Hey! It’s not like I parade around in dresses. But you know, something clean would be nice.”

  The problem with Polly is that she’s too pretty. Well, and that she knows it. She doesn’t need to shower or fix her loose waves or put on dresses and makeup in order to make people look twice. Not that we have anyone to look good for here, but it can still be infuriating.

  A vision of Jude—all dimples and sandy hair and bright-blue eyes—enters my head before I can tackle it and kick it away. Pollyanna gives me a look like she’s read my mind. She opens her mouth to give me a hard time, but Haint cuts her off.

  “She’s right, you know. You may have come to terms with your natural body odor, but I assure you, the rest of us wish you’d come to terms with a bar of soap.”

  “I’m trying a new lifestyle.” Polly’s cheeks turn red but she can’t help smiling. She knows we’re just teasing. “I smell better than the two of you put together after a three-hour August workout.”

  “Lazy is not a lifestyle,” I comment dryly.

  “Tell that to the potheads of the world,” Polly shoots back, grinning.

  We laugh, then, all of us. It feels good, even if Haint’s still missing from view and moments like this one with Pollyanna have always been rare.

  Then Goose sticks his head into the room, his eyes closed and eyebrows raised in a suspicious arch. “Everyone decent?”

  “Yes.” I’m still giggling, and the expression on his face, as though he hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of the three of us right now, doesn’t help my mirth dissipate.

  “What in tarnation y’all laughing about? Did Haint up the ante on the whole silent but deadly thing?”

  “Ew, gross!” Haint’s disgusted reply coincides with Goose tipping sideways into the doorframe, and I have to admit, it’s pretty hilarious watching someone get knocked around by an invisible person.

  “Ow! You got my funny bone.”

  “I didn’t know you had one, sorry.”

  Goose sticks his tongue out in the general direction of Haint’s voice, then gets knocked out of the way again as his brother shoves him aside with a hip. “If you’re all quite done acting like lunatics, we should go check on Flicker.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Pollyanna mutters under her breath, then widens her eyes in fake innocence as Athena glances her direction.

  We’re trying so hard, but the humor feels like we’re about ready to be wheeled into dangerous surgery and are trying to pretend it doesn’t bother us. Tension crackles in the air around us, above us, and nothing but action is going to satisfy it.

  “We’re ready,” I say, itching to move. If we arrive in Charleston during the workday, then my dad won’t be home and I can grab my computer without having to confront him, to see the hurt on his face, to lie to him again.

  We turn toward the doorway to find the redheaded Older lurking in the doorway. She eyes us warily, twisting her fingers together. They’re wrinkled from the dishwater. “I couldn’t help but overhear your plans downstairs…at breakfast.”

  There’s a beat of silence before Pollyanna steps forward, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what, you’re going to stop us?”

  “No.” Her shoulders straighten as though she’s decided something. “I’m Madeline. Maddy or Mad, if you want.”

  “Because your superpower is being crazy?” Athena queries, as tactless as ever.

  Madeline snorts, the first display of an actual personality since we first saw her. “No. It’s my actual name, like the one on my birth certificate.”

  My curiosity climbs through the roof. “The one on file at Saint Catherine’s?”

  Her eyes widen a little. “Yes, that one.”

  “Why don’t you go by your Cavy name?” Goose asks, worrying his bottom lip.

  “I prefer Madeline.” She doesn’t offer to share her Cavy name, or her mutation, or an explanation for that matter. It only serves to make me more curious…and distrustful. “And I don’t want to stop you. I want to help you.”

  Awkwardness infuses the air for a few minutes, sharp and a little tangy. We exchange glances, wondering whether to ask her more questions or just tell her thanks but no thanks. The truth is, we could use an ally among the Olders, and I’m not sure why, but something’s different about her.

  “Why?” Mole asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “My reasons are my reasons, so maybe the right question is what I can do to help you.”

  “Okay, fine,” Mole snaps. “What can you do to help us?”

  “If you leave, you’re not going to come back. I’ve been the one monitoring Flicker since we brought her here and I’m the best one to help her out of the coma. If the GRH-18 works and she’s able to steady her mutation, I can help her with that, too.”

  “I’m going to stay and watch her,” Geoff asserts, shoulders rigid.

  “Which is fine, but you don’t know as much as I do.”

  The way she says it makes me think she’s talking about more than how to take care of Flicker. We exchange uncomfortable glances, unsure of how to reply but maybe all unwilling to turn down help. What if she’s right and we aren’t able to get back here for some reason? It would make me feel better to know someone’s here with Geoff. On our side. Remembering to care for Flicker.

  “Come upstairs with me. I’ll go over things with you, share my thoughts on where you might want to go from here.” Her tone turns coaxing, her dark eyes pleading in a way that makes me think she’s desperate for us to take her up on
the offer.

  “And then you’ll tell us what’s in it for you,” I say softly, watching her reaction.

  Madeline’s head jerks up, her surprised gaze landing on my face. She gives a sharp nod. “And then I’ll tell you what’s in it for me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Flicker looks exactly the way she did the last time I saw her, which isn’t great considering she’s unconscious in a sensory deprivation tank. When I meet the gazes of the other Cavies, my fear and distrust reflect back, skipping through me at an increasing rate.

  “Why isn’t she awake yet?” I ask Madeline.

  “It’s been fewer than twelve hours since we started weaning her off the narcotic that’s slowing her brain activity,” Madeline explains in her quiet voice, the one that sounds as though it expects to be smacked upside the head for opening her mouth. “We’ll decrease it further now and reduce the pain medication over the next twelve hours. It’s not a fast process, I’m afraid, and from now on, either Geoff or I will have to stay here to monitor her progress. We’ll need to be available to pull her out of the tank as soon as she wakes up.”

  “How long is all of this going to take?” Pollyanna demands.

  “It depends on how her body responds to the sudden lack of drugs. I’d guess at least a week until she’s functioning.”

  Madeline bustles around the tank, checking wires and explaining them to Geoff under her breath, then she goes to the fridge and pulls out some vials. They tinker with those for a few moments, then do the same with the dials on the monitor connected to the wires on Flicker’s head and chest.

  Impatience tightens my throat. “You want to help Geoff watch Flicker and bring her out of that tank, then maybe start her on GRH-18. Why? What’s in it for you?”

  Madeline’s confident now, as though she already knows how she’s going to respond before the question falls off my lips. “I want to leave Saint Stephen’s, too.”

  “You want to come with us?” Mole asks, aghast.

  She nods. “I’ll stay here until Flicker’s well enough to travel, then we’ll all join you where you’ve set up camp.”

  “What makes you think we’re going to have a camp for you to join? We don’t have anywhere to go.” Goose’s gaze narrows on her. “We don’t have a plan, either.”

  “Let’s just say I have a hunch that y’all will be my best chance.”

  “Why should we trust you? I mean, you’re one of them.” Worry and hope whirr through me in equal intensity. I want to believe her motives are personal, but after dealing with Fake Flicker for two weeks, it’s hard.

  She’s not one of us. If the couple of months in the real world taught me anything, it’s that people are almost never what they seem. And most of them are more than adequate liars. She might be spying for Chameleon, along just in case we do stop the GRH-18 and they can’t track us.

  But maybe that’s all we are, all of us. All we were ever meant to be. My heart sinks at the thought. Can we change what we were bred for, or have we been kidding ourselves this whole time?

  “You shouldn’t trust me.” Her dark eyes swim with determination. “Chameleon is crazy, and he’s paranoid, and he probably doesn’t even realize when he’s lying anymore, but he’s not wrong about everything. None of us can trust anyone.”

  Her gaze flicks around our little circle, making it clear that she would include each and every one of us in that piece of advice. But it still doesn’t explain why she wants to leave the Olders.

  “Okay, fine, then why should we let you come?” Haint’s voice reveals impatience, which is typical of her when people play word games.

  “Because I can make sure nothing else happens to Flicker.” She makes a face. “That’s not true. I can make sure she wakes up healthy and be there to administer drugs if she’s in pain, but if she starts ’porting again I won’t be able to do anything except up her dose of GRH-18.”

  “We don’t want to take that stuff anymore,” Mole says, his haggard face set in determined lines. “Not until we know more about it.”

  “I don’t blame you, in some ways, but for Flicker it might be the only way she’ll ever be able to truly control her abilities.” She motions to the case of vials on the table. “You should take some with you, just in case. If nothing else, Haint needs to be visible and we all know your incident in the cafeteria yesterday was no random occurrence. The GRH-18 offers us a multitude of improvements and has very few negative side effects.”

  “Aside from the tracking,” Mole grunts.

  “Aside from that. The rest of it, you’re going to need. Particularly the ability to evade the government’s collection of nulls.” She pauses, checking for our understanding. “The agents that are dosed to withstand our abilities.”

  I’m not convinced that we should let her help yet. There’s obviously a lot she’s not saying. “You still haven’t told us why you want to help, why you’re so keen on getting out of Saint Stephen’s in the first place.”

  Madeline sighs. “What Chameleon said in the graveyard last night, that we all have the choice whether to work with the government on certain occasions?” She glances around, as though she’s worried about being overheard even though the only other Older in the building is Gills. “Not all of us get those same options.”

  She doesn’t expand on her point. I have the feeling she wouldn’t even if we asked, but the truth underlying her vagaries seems to point to the fact that she’s not allowed to leave Saint Stephen’s the way the others are. We don’t push her, because even if we can’t trust her, we do need her.

  And there’s not a doubt in my mind that she’d walk away before revealing anything more personal.

  “I don’t know why we’re standing here acting like we’re not going to accept,” Pollyanna huffs. “Flicker needs her expertise, and if we’re even considering not coming back here, or worried it might happen, we can’t leave one of our own behind with no plan. Y’all know that.”

  Our combined silence is as good as agreement, and Madeline’s shoulders slump in relief. “You can leave whenever you’re ready. There’s a car in the barn and the keys—”

  “Are in the visor, I know.” I nod.

  A surprised smile leaps onto her face and even though the nerves in my stomach are making it hard to think, I can’t help but give her the smallest smirk in return.

  It’s nice to know I have a few secrets from the Olders, too.

  We pack the GRH-18 Madeline gives us even though we don’t come to an agreement about continuing to take it. Haint and Mole both take doses to counteract whatever stopping it entirely did to them yesterday, but the rest of us refrain. For now.

  We don’t speak as we trek toward the barn. There’s no point in talking it to death—we’re leaving, Geoff and Flicker are staying, and we’re relying on Madeline to keep them alive.

  Then something occurs to me that makes my blood turn to gazpacho in my veins.

  I reach out and grab Mole’s arm, squeezing it through his jacket sleeve as I pull us to a stop. “It sounded like there’s some reason Madeline hasn’t been able to leave before now. If Chameleon doesn’t want to lose her for some reason, they might come after her.”

  The others stop too, their eyes big as the implication of my observation sinks in. If they drag her back here, they might do the same to us, for helping her out.

  “What makes you think that?” Haint asks, her fingertips and nose starting to come into view.

  “She said she’s been waiting for the opportunity to leave. I mean, if they would let her go, why wait until now?”

  “And that whole thing about some people not having choices about their lives,” Goose adds, casting me a thoughtful glance. “It could be trouble.”

  Stealing someone Chameleon considers a commodity, who he might see as special for some reason, has the stink of disaster on it. We still don’t know what she can do.

  Maybe we should have tried harder to make her tell us, but I doubt it would have done any good.

&
nbsp; “I mean, obviously he’s not that worried about losing us—maybe there are Olders who can pretty much do what we can do but Madeline’s the only one of her kind.” Athena’s musing makes my stomach hurt.

  If Madeline is the only Cavy with her ability—whatever it is—then Chameleon definitely won’t let her go without a fight.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” Polly insists. “We need her, and besides, if she wants to leave and we don’t help her, we’re no better than Chameleon and the others. We want to make our own decisions? Well, so does she.”

  “Plus, once Flicker’s awake and okay again we can always kick her to the curb,” Haint says, a wicked glint in her voice in response to both Pollyanna’s and my incredulous looks. “What? I’m kidding.”

  Mole raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “I love you guys,” I say, a grin splitting my cheeks despite the mounds of worry perched on my shoulders.

  “Lord have mercy, can we get out of here before Gypsy starts sappy crying? Remind me to never let her get drunk or she’ll go into a hug fest and we’ll all find out the intimate details of our deaths.” Pollyanna rolls her eyes, but the sparkling light in them tells me she’s feeling good about today’s decisions, too. We’re taking control, going to find answers, and it feels right.

  “Shut up, Polly.” I almost call her Tate, the name on her birth certificate, but it would only piss her off.

  “Both of you shut up and let’s get the car,” Mole says. “I’m driving!”

  That makes us all giggle, though our laughter dies off as we enter the barn. The boat of a car is exactly where I left it, but it’s going to be a tight fit. Good thing it’s old enough to have a bench seat in the front.

  Haint starts toward the driver’s door, a faint blur in the air now after her double dose of GRH-18, but I put out a hand to stop her. “You’re the only one with a valid driver’s license, but you’re still mostly invisible. That’s going to freak other drivers out. Rightfully so.”

  “You’re going to drive?” Mole asks me, fake horror on his face as he clutches his chest.