by Casey Hays
I flinch.
“About that. Justin . . . isn’t quite back yet.”
Dr. Phillips stiffens, and his eyes narrow with sternness.
“He didn’t return with you?”
I shake my head, not daring to look at him. “None of them did. We were separated a few miles back when . . . I got the baby. I left them behind to get here faster.”
He tosses the towel into the sink and crosses his arms, and I tense. He’s about to drill me, I know. My heart thuds like an erratic drumbeat as I mentally prepare myself for his avalanche of questions.
“Where did you boys go on this “‘camping trip’”
This one is easy. The boys and I meticulously mapped out the “details” of our trip, in the event that something just like this might happen. I shrug casually.
“Just north of Gaza. Scarlet Forest. We saw an eagle, too.”
This last part is actually true. We learned that eagles were extinct, but there he was—a day or two before we reached Kate’s village—soaring low over the tree tops. And he was big, too. The biggest bird I’ve ever seen. I suddenly realize if I want my story to be credible, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned this, but Doc seems to overlook it.
“Right,” he concedes. “You went to Scarlet Forest as requested. Therefore, your tardiness is inexcusable. Scarlet Forest is a two days’ walk from here. Walk,” he emphasizes for clarification. “Two weeks was ample time.”
“I know,” I nod. “We just lost track. And then the baby thing happened.” I shrug as if this should be explanation enough. “We know we were wrong. We broke the rules.”
I say this without much conviction. I would have broken the rules a thousand times over to get back to that village. But Kate is safely on her way to Jordan. My ultimate mission is done. It’s easier to admit my disobedience now. I’ll take whatever punishment they dish out and be content. And it may take me a little while to get myself past the wall, but I will. I always do.
“You go on home, now,” Dr. Phillips says, ushering me toward the door with a wave of his hand. “Your mother has been a wreck. I’d advise you to think twice before doing something like this again.”
“What about her?” I ask, my eyes flitting toward the table. “What will you do with her body?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that. You did what you had to do. You’re job is done. I’ll take care of it.”
“But—but what if her mother wants her? You know, to bury her?”
He cocks his head slightly. “If she was high on Cricket, why would she care?”
He’s caught me. I have no answer, and requesting her body is not an option. I have to leave her—a rescue baby that rejected the Serum. That’s what we call the babies we bring in. The ones we save from the hoppers. Thanks to me, Tabitha has just become one more casualty. My heart drops to my feet as a sick feeling begins to invade.
“Doc?” My voice is tentative, trembling as I fight the tears. I can’t let him know that Tabitha wasn’t just a dying baby. She was much more than this. She mattered to people who matter to me. But still, I have to ask. I need to know if the niggling theory my brain has concocted is accurate. “This baby? She had never been to Eden until tonight. I know you want me to believe she had, and I can’t explain why, but I’m certain she’s never been here.”
He eyes me intently, but he doesn’t say a word.
“So, I just need to know how this happened. Is the toxin . . . is it . . . is it leaking out? Is the equalization chamber not working?”
His eyes like steel, he purses his lips. And then, he walks to the door, pulls it open, and faces me.
“Son, you need to leave the grown-up thinking to the grown-ups. There is a perfectly logical and medical explanation for why this baby died. It’s not something you need to worry yourself over.” He opens the door wider, and the low gleam of lights from the hallway slides in to fill the entrance. “Your job is to concentrate on your training.”
“But if it’s no longer contained—”
“Ian!”
I stop, our eyes meeting in an awkward kind of stand-off that I am markedly losing. With a grand motion, he shows me the door.
“Go home.”
I stand still another beat as understanding floods me. And I exit the exam room just before the nausea hits. I lean against the wall waiting for the feeling to subside.
I have to leave the baby—just lying there on the cold table with all the dents. And it makes me sick to think that I will have to explain this to Diana. I won’t have an answer when she asks me what happened to her body. “I don’t know.”It’s the only answer I’ll have, and it’s no answer at all. I fight the gorge that rises in my throat at the thought. This is wrong. All of it. That baby in there on that table should not be dead. Not from toxin.
My mind is numb with realization.
Somehow, the toxin is leaking. It has to be. Dr. Phillips might as well have stamped the message on my forehead. I could see it written in his eyes. I could hear the answer in his weak words as he forced me out of the room.
A fear, crouching low in my gut, suddenly leaps, and I’m sprinting down the hall. My rubber soles squeak against the shiny, tiled floor as I dart through the lobby, stooping for my belongings without stopping. I shove through the glass door. I pick up speed, jetting down the street, scrambling into my pack, not slowing at the corner. I whiz past the stores lining Main Street. The inner gate looms ahead—fifty feet . . . twenty . . . ten. I have only one thought racing through my mind: Justin can’t bring the girls across the river. If the toxin is leaking out of Eden, what will happen when they cross? And how long before the toxin reaches the other villages? This thought rekindles the nausea, and it burns the lining of my stomach.
The tears come, pricking fiercely at my eyes. I’m not being sensible, and I know this. If the toxin has already traveled far enough over the bridge to kill Tabitha, there’s a good chance Kate will never make it to the bridge.
There’s an even better chance that she’s already dead.
My fear is replaced with overwhelming panic. If she and Diana are still alive, we can’t bring them any farther.
We have to take them back.
Chapter 18
The guard on duty at the inner gate sees me just before I reach his post. In a flash, he leaps from behind the glass window to bounce in between me and the only exit to the city. I come to a complete stop the moment my chest collides with his, but I bore into him, taking his challenge.
I expected this. My dad has already contacted the gate and added me to the restricted list. Very few people make this list. I suppose I should be honored in an infamous sort of way that my name can now be counted among the other offenders—for the second time. Perhaps—in the long run—this will be important. I like to think so.
“Where’re you going, buddy?” the guard asks, his nose so close to mine I can feel the small puffs of air emitting from it every other second.
“Need out,” I say, casual-like. “I’ve got some business to attend to on the other side.”
I don’t remember this guard. He’s young, but not as young as I am. His hair is close cut up under his hat, his jaw a hard set line, his spine as straight as one of my arrows, giving him the official “soldier” look. His weapon is still holstered, but I gather by his hand position, it would take less than half a second for him to draw it.
I clutch my bow. It’s useless at such close range and against a well-trained guard.
“You wouldn’t happen to be Ian Roberts, now would you?” he asks. He turns his head slightly, almost imperceptibly as he waits for my reply. He doesn’t need it. He knows.
“I might be.” I take a step back. My fingers flinch slightly against the grip of my bow. My breathing is steady, but adrenaline pumps through me. Clicking. Antsy. If this guy is looking for a fight, I’m poised to give him one.
“You’re restricted,” he says. “Just got the call. So you need to turn yourself around and go back where you came from.�
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The barrel of his gun thumps into my temple at the same moment the tip of my arrow pierces through his beige t-shirt, drawing blood. In that instant, we are both as still as stone statues. He squints menacingly.
“Is this the game you want to play? You really want to break Code? Take that risk?”
I narrow my eyes. String stretched taut, the feathers of the arrow tickling the side of my cheek, I feel courageous. Powerful.
My challenge is irrational, of course. He’s an authority figure. It’s my obligation to adhere to his order whether I like it or not. Defying an order by one of the guards earns you a day in lockdown. I count in my head. How many edicts of the Code have I broken? The last thing I need at the moment is lockdown. Lockdown will not get me any closer to Kate.
I can’t fight my way through. Because if I lose—and this is highly likely—I may never get past the wall.
But . . . if I could take down just this one lone guard, I’d be one step closer.
I ponder the idea. Press my arrow deeper into his chest even as I imperceptibly loosen the string’s tension slightly to relieve the ache building in my arm. He doesn’t flinch, and his weapon clicks loud next to my ear as he cocks it, his finger on the trigger.
A scenario races through my head. We take each other down; Ernie and Tag hear the report of the gunshot and find us. And I wake up on a cozy cot in the basement of Town Hall in a few hours.
I’ve never been in lockdown, but I’ve heard rumors. Claustrophobic. Dark. Lonely. The worst three companions for someone from Eden.
A shudder rumbles my body, and the Pit, the cave, ten bamboo bars come into focus in my memory.
I have been in lockdown.
I lower my bow.
“Good choice, Ian Roberts,” he says, keeping his gun pressed against the side of my head a moment longer. “That would have turned out much worse on your end.” He steps back. “Rethink what you’re planning. And for now, go on home. Sleep it out. You look exhausted.”
His eyes aren’t hard, his voice is not demanding when he says it. In fact, I hear some camaraderie mingled in with the tones. I examine him. A slight twitch of his mouth confirms my suspicions.
“I’ve heard about you, Ian Roberts.” He says my full name again, as if not to do so might transform me into someone else. “You survived on the outside—before you shifted. Pretty damn amazing if you ask me.”
I don’t move, not even to blink. So he continues.
“I have to say, you’ve been the talk in the mess hall ever since you came back. A hero. A lot of us have wanted to ask you how you did it. I mean, you were pretty low on Serum when you crawled back in here. But with no team? How did you survive?”
I swing my bow up over my shoulder and hitch my pack higher onto my back. “I managed,” I say. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
He nods once. “Right.”
I turn back toward the city. I’ll get nowhere tonight. And the minute he mentioned sleep, exhaustion cast a shadow over me, draining me of the last of my energy. When was the last time I slept?
“So, where were you headed just now?”
I ignore him, trudge a few more steps away from the gate.
“I might be willing to lend a hand. Depending on what you’re after.”
This stops my steps. I wait for him to continue.
“We guards, well, we don’t get to leave the city. No need. We have our assigned jobs here, protecting the wall. Protecting the citizens. Expeditions are not part of the regular job description.”
I face him. He places his gun back into its holster.
“I’ve been outside twice. Just right outside the gate is all,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, I like my job fine. But . . . I’m thinking about changing fields. I’d like to be assigned to an expedition team. See if that suits me better.”
“If you’re so moved by the idea of the outside,” I reply. “Then let me through the gate.” I pause a beat and then add, “Come with me if you want to.”
The offer is ludicrous, which is why I say it. A guard would never leave his post.
As expected, he shakes his head. “You know how stupid your plan is? You have no team. Even an insane person would know better. And Ernie has three guys on the other side with him. You want to face them? Plus, you’d have to wait for the chamber to equalize. You have no reason to leave—no permissions. You’re restricted.” He emphasizes this last statement with purpose. “And I’m not willing to put myself on the line right at the front gate. I’m a guard. I might as well break every rule of the Code as to do that.”
I’m irritated by his logic. It moves me farther and farther away from Kate.
“What’s your name?”
“Kyle.”
“Well, Kyle. I wish you the best in your career change.”
I throw him a mocking salute and turn away.
“I live on Ash if you change your mind. I know my way around this wall, if you get my meaning.”
I do, but I don’t look back. No need to alert him to the possibility that his words intrigue me.
Now that my panic has subsided, reason begins to ebb in and settle around me. Even if I made it past the wall tonight, I wouldn’t make it much farther. Fatigue is catching up. I don’t know where on the trail the others are. It may take me hours to reach them. Or days, depending. I need sleep. I need to rejuvenate. I may even need a dose of Serum. I don’t want to, but it’s just as well that I wait.
It is entirely possible that Kate has already been exposed. And if that’s the case, there’s nothing I can to about it even at my best.
Surviving the toxin has everything to do with the Serum. I know this in my head, but my heart doesn’t care to conform to the idea. Whether the toxin is leaking or not, Kate wasn’t sick when I left. That’s enough for me to believe that she’s not sick now.
So, I’ll go home, see my mom, get some sleep. And tomorrow? Tomorrow, I will be able to think. Tomorrow, I will make plans.
And until tomorrow—and every day after that until I see her again—Kate is alive.
Mom waits for me in the den. She’s dozing, her cheek leaning against her propped hand on the arm of the sofa. She’s tried to stay awake, but it’s late, and she’s losing the battle. I drop my gear in the foyer and make my way to her.
She looks beautiful with the dim light of the lamp cascading over her. I hesitate a moment, think about not waking her and slipping on up to bed. But if she wakes, she won’t know I’m safely home, and I owe her that much at the very least.
“Mom,” I whisper, kneeling. Her breath catches and her blue eyes flutter open.
“Ian!” She straightens, grabs my shoulders, and clutches me to her. “You had me worried sick, boy. I was terrified this was a repeat of last time.”
“No.” My voice is muffled against her. I free myself enough to lean away. “We just lost track of the days. I’m sorry I worried you.”
She nods, running a hand across my cheek. Tears glisten in her eyes. “You look terrible, Ian.”
I smile weakly. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“When did you last sleep?” She runs her hand through the side of my hair.
I shake my head.
She nods, a noticeable sigh of relief causing her shoulders to tremble. “Your father says you’ve been restricted.”
I simply nod.
“I think this wise, for now.”
I start to protest, but the look on her face makes me think better of it. Even if she doesn’t agree with him, Mom would never openly object. They always maintain the appearance of a united front. So I clamp my mouth shut.
“Ian.” My name is a weary whisper from her lips. “You need to find a way to prevent your excursions from becoming outright violations. You cannot afford to take these kinds of risks. And I can’t handle it. I’ll have a nervous breakdown.”
I purse my lips, unsure how to respond, so she continues.
“People h
ave been restricted for life for breaking too many rules of the Code. And that’s the worst possible outcome you could face, next to permanent lockdown. You have to learn how to be discreet if you want freedom outside the wall.”
I stand, turn my back on her. She sighs heavily.
“We tried to teach you this by letting you go on a few expeditions early. But now that you have shifted, there are things you must learn. I know your father has discussed this with you. We must all be careful.”
I spin, my words harsher than I intend. “I know, Mom.”
I’m exhausted. I have no clever comeback to battle her logic.
She rises from the sofa and squares her tall frame with mine. She stands at exactly six feet—short by Eden’s standards. Her blonde brows crease together as she implores me to be reasonable.
“I know you do, but I’m going to say it again. We must be careful of detection by Outsiders. Careful of hurting someone unintentionally or otherwise. Careful to know your strength, your speed. To know when to exert it and when to refrain. This new life is only months old for you, Ian. You’re like a newborn, and it is imperative that with each move, each decision, you calculate the dangers to yourself and others.”
“To myself? Mom, a few weeks ago, I—”
I stop short. She squints up at me.
“You what?”
Her blue eyes pierce me—same color as mine. Sometimes when I look straight at her, like now, it’s shocking. I see my own eyes staring back at me. A mirror image in more ways than one. I quickly turn away.
I can’t tell her. I can admit that I walked away without a scratch from a massive puddle of my own blood in the bottom of a pit. In a village on the forbidden side of the river, no less. But she should already know we are not in danger. We are the ones people should fear.
This thought frightens me. After all that I’ve experienced in the past months, am I still so bold? My hand inadvertently stills over the front pocket of my jeans where the knife with the serpent insignia rests against my thigh.
“Son.” She tugs on my arm until I face her, and she bends in to catch my gaze again. “I know something has not been sitting comfortably with you since your return.”