by Casey Hays
He frowns and wipes a nervous hand across his brow, although I see no sweat there. I haven’t seen him sweat—not once in all the time since he came back to the Village for me. I suppose this is another aspect of the Shift. But I intended to touch a nerve, and I see that I have. He needs to know the impact of his deception.
He suddenly and very gently pulls me to a stop, makes me face him. I cast a glance at the others. They still trudge on ahead, unaware of us.
“You win, okay?” His voice is quiet, begging me to hear him out. “I’ve been wrong about all of it, and it took a trip back to Eden for me to see it. The minute I knew I loved you was the minute I should have broken Code.”
I stand still, taking in his confession like a long drink of overdue water. But I don’t respond.
“Kate . . .”
My name is a desperate whisper coaxing me to believe him. And I want to more than he knows. But there is that tiny reservation in my heart. I sigh, casting my eyes to the ground.
“It hurts, Ian, to find out the truth from someone else. You had time, plenty of time long before Tabitha became ill to tell me these things. You didn’t, and while you’ve been gone, I’ve had to reconsider the entire plan for my life.”
“Not all of it.” He takes up both of my hands in one of his own and draws them to his chest. “We can still be together, just not in Eden. We can still have a life.”
“But where is the trust?”
“I will earn your trust again. I promise you, I will. And . . .” he pauses, fixing his eyes on me. “I want to tell you the rest—what I didn’t have time to tell you before. But . . . I don’t want you to hate me for it. With everything that’s happened—”
He stops. I raise my brows in anticipation and attempt to swallow the lump that suddenly and without warning swells inside my throat. I’m uncertain I can bear much more.
“What is it?” I whisper. The sound is full of desperate pleading—more than I intended. “No more secrets.”
He looks at me so long I’m afraid he won’t say anything more. And then, he nods.
“It’s the toxin. It’s not—” He struggles to find his words. “It wasn’t—caused by the Fall.” He sighs, long and deep before the rest of his words come rushing out of him. “Well, there were toxins after the war. That is true. And they killed people. But the toxin now? The one in Eden? It’s manmade. We make it. Well, not me personally, but—”
He’s rambling, but he halts, his eyes faltering. At first, I think I’ve heard him wrong. I’m stunned. I clutch at my throat, taking a step back from him.
“Why would they do that?”
Another huge sigh escapes him, and he closes his eyes. “We need it. It’s the only way the Serum works to make us into what we are. And . . . we like what we are.” He looks up at me, a fear in his eyes. “The Code. Eden’s way of protecting mankind. To create people who would survive another war. Our agenda is preservation.” He shakes his head as if he’s ashamed of what his city has done. “At least one city won’t fall ever again. We’ve made sure of it.”
“At the expense of the rest of us?” I can’t believe his words.
He takes a step toward me. But I tense, a quick flash of anger stabbing through me.
“I know,” he whispers. “But . . . now you know everything.” His hands reach for me, cup my face tentatively with their warmth, his eyes doing their best to drown me as always. “I have broken Code completely. For you.”
The statement is intense. I ponder whether this should move me or fill me with some sort of privilege. It doesn’t, and my heart is conflicted. His love for me has forced him to choose. And in that choice, he breaks his vow to his people. And yet, what they have done to preserve themselves is . . . monstrous!
“I don’t care what anyone says,” he continues, and I feel something inside me ready to boil over. “The toxin has to be leaking. A lot.”
“But your father says it isn’t leaking,” I insist. “Perhaps he’s right.”
“Then how do you explain what happened to Tabitha?”
I shake my head. “I—I can’t.”
“Because that’s the only answer. It was the toxin. And who knows how many more people it’s killed that we don’t know about.”
“So, what happens now?” My voice sounds frantic inside my own head. I clutch my throat. “How do you stop it?”
He shakes his head. “I . . . don’t know. The toxin has always been contained.”
I clench my jaw as my fearful anger grows. And I should be angry. I have every right to be. Angry at him, at Eden . . . at something, and a pang flashes through me. Tabitha is dead because Eden chose to create a poison for its own selfish gain. In my mind, this is the worst of all evils—to put innocent people at risk. A slow heat rises in my chest when I think of it.
“How could you let this happen?” I grit my teeth, and the words escape angrily.
Ian stares at me, his eyes glistening on the brink of tears, and I falter. What am I saying? None of it is his fault. He didn’t create this toxin, and he didn’t cause it to leak out to steal Tabitha’s life. Ian has simply lived by the ways of his people as I lived by the ways of mine. It would not be fair to blame him for this. So I reel in the anger, release a long breath, and lean into him until he wraps his arms around me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
I close my eyes. What my own people did was just as monstrous. I must remember this. And I’m tired of the anger. I’ve been angry about too many things, and nothing that Ian has confessed changes anything.
“I don’t think we should cross the river,” he says. I look up at him. “I understand what the guys are saying. But we don’t know what is happening on the other side.” His arms tighten around me. “I know what I saw, and I don’t know how far spread the danger is. It might be no safer in Jordan. I don’t want to take you there without knowing.”
His eyes dance with a solid fear, and I feel it. I tilt my head.
“Then what do you want to do?” I ask.
He shakes his head, stares out across the road to the trees. “I want to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m . . . kind of terrified. I thought I knew more than I do about my city, but I’m not so sure now. I thought I knew how the world works. But I don’t think I know anything.”
“Look at me, Ian. Look into my eyes.” I loosen myself from his grip and press my palms against his chest until he complies. “You have to stop being so afraid for me. Your fears keep us apart . . . in here.” I thump a fist against his chest. “Please don’t keep me out anymore.”
His lip trembles, and he nods, squeezing me again.
“We’ve come all this way. I’m never going back to my village. So we have two choices,” I conclude. “We can stay right here on this side of the river and live out whatever meager life we can find as stragglers while you ward off all the dangers that come for me—which is impossible. Or . . . we can take the risk and face whatever we must together on the other side.”
He is very still for the longest time. Long enough that I wonder if he will ever answer. I sense him thinking, weighing my words against his reason, against his fears, against his courage.
“What do you want?” he asks.
I blink. It’s the first time he’s requested for my input instead of simply making a decision he feels is best for both of us, and I am moved by the gesture.
“I want to go,” I respond without a thought.
His eyes crease in the corners with definite objection to my idea, but I hold my resolve, bite my bottom lip and nod with all the temerity I can muster. And he can’t refuse me.
“Okay.” He sighs, with a defeated shake of his head. “Then we go.”
A small pinch of relief echoes through me because I need to cross the river. It is a need in me that I cannot express in words. A need that longs to be on the side where I will see life again. Where I will meet this Penelope and hear of her god. Because I am convinced that once I’m on the other
side, everything will change.
“Thank you,” I say. He tucks me up under his arm, and we walk. And I feel the tension between us slowly begin to release its tight fingers.
“Do you . . . do you want to talk about . . . Tabitha?” I dare to ask.
His face is a blank sheet, and a resistant thump in my chest vibrates through me, but I need to talk about her. And I think he needs to speak of it just as much. He chews on his bottom lip a few paces more. But then, he nods with closed eyes.
“It was horrible,” he begins quietly.
“Have you seen it before?”
“Not like that. Not so personally. She was so tiny. So helpless. Dying right up against my chest. I don’t think I can express how that made me feel. Powerless, I guess. Useless. And then… she was just lying there on the table and—”
He cuts his words short, squeezing his eyes shut against the image, and I tighten my arm at his waist.
“She was just gone, and I was thinking, ‘How can this happen?’ She was nowhere near the city when she got sick. And then I had to leave her little body there. I had no good excuse to ask for her. To bring her back to Diana—”
We are quiet. I press my lips together to staunch their trembling. Ian chokes back a heaving wave of breath that shudders through us both.
“If it is leaking, you shouldn’t be standing here right now,” he concludes. “Nothing makes sense.”
I study him intently. He stops us to face me again.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.” His lip quivers, and the beginnings of a tear glisten in the corner of his eye. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. I don’t know what is going on anymore, and I’m scared. I’ve shifted. I’m not supposed get scared. Why? Why am I still scared?”
His voice cracks. I slide both arms around him.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But it’s okay to be afraid. It’s natural.”
His arms tighten around me, encasing me in their strength, and his embrace severely contrasts the words that spill over.
“I want you to know that you mean more to me than anything I’ve ever known.” He sniffles once. “And this is dangerous because I come from a place where we are all freaks of nature. On purpose.”
I pull back, and his body tenses, not wanting to release me.
“You are an Outsider,” he says intensely. His breath teases my hair. “I am a freak. You’re amazing, and I don’t deserve you. And even if I could take you there, you would never be welcomed in Eden. Not by anyone. And if my city is the reason Tabitha is dead—” He chokes on the end of the sentence. “You should hate me for this. She didn’t deserve to die. None of them do.”
His lip trembles again, and I’m thoughtful a moment.
“I suppose I should hate you,” I say without blinking, and his breath catches. “But I can’t.”
It is my honest truth, and his tightened features loosen as his shoulders relax at my words.
“This journey has been more difficult than I ever imagined,” I continue. I wipe at a lone tear that slides freely down my cheek. “Not just physically, but emotionally as well. I am heartbroken over Tabitha. I loved her.” I raise my chest in an attempt at bravery, steadying my emotions. “And . . . I would be lying if I said I was not disappointed about Eden. I have longed to see it. But it would be naïve of me to think you will never disappoint me, and I understand why you did. I know you meant only good with every decision you’ve made. I know this because I know you, Ian.”
He is quiet, his eyes burning into me like two blue flames flickering into eternity, and my heart flutters. Because I see his fear in them, an ice cold chill that sweeps over him at the possibility of not being strong enough or brave enough or fast enough. A fear at the thought of another death that he can’t prevent. And in all of this I know he fears he will never be good enough. For himself. For me. For anyone. He’s wrong. I reach up, run my fingers over his cheek.
“Do you truly think that I could stop loving you so easily?” I whisper. “My heart is not such a weak thing.”
In the quick intake of his breath, we finally and completely reach each other. He bends, kisses me lightly. And for the first time since his return, I know I can trust it. His eyes tell me everything. I reach up to brush back a piece of loose hair from his forehead. He picks me up and spins us.
Through our mutual tears, we share a moment of laughter. I can’t remember the last time we did so, and I lose myself in the sound before it’s stifled by the collision of our lips.
“I don’t get it,” Justin says. “Ava jumped onto the roof of Town Hall? From ground level?”
We’ve stopped for the night to sleep in another dilapidated house of the last town we will encounter before we cross the river. The fire glows, warming the room, which is bare but for a large, decaying chair that Jesse effortlessly shoves out of the way to make room for the sleeping bags. The carpet in this house is threadbare in so many places, there seems to be none left. But the roof is intact in case of rains, which is more possible than not.
The boys have related our adventures, including my illness and the fire, and now they turn to Ian’s astonishing news.
“I’m still having a hard time believing it.” Ian props up on his side on top of a sleeping bag spread across the bare floor, and shakes his head. “It was kind of amazing. I mean, she didn’t even take a running start. She just… bounced . . . right there where she was standing. Can any of us do that?”
“No way,” Jesse concludes, and Max shakes his head. “Man, this is weird.”
“More than weird,” Justin adds. “First, it doesn’t happen this early. Did she say if there were any other kids like her?”
“Yeah.” Jesse sits up taller. “Like my little brother. He’s about her age.”
“Nope,” Ian rubs a hand along my forearm as he speaks. “She wouldn’t say a word. She only showed me what she could do.”
“And your mom?” Justin leans forward to poke another skinny log into the fire, and it flares up to light the dimming room once again. “What is she trying to tell you?”
“I don’t know.” Ian stares into the fire. “It feels like I’m supposed to do something.”
“I wonder if it all has something to do with that plane,” Max adds calmly.
“And you’re restricted.” Jesse shakes his head with a slight chuckle. He leans back, hands behind his head. “You’ve got guts leaving like you did. You probably should make it a point never to go back.”
Ian nods. “Yeah. Even Jones thinks I’m not ready, understandably. I mean, my track record doesn’t do me any favors. My parents have pretty much decided I’m through with the outside for a while. And you know my parents. They’ve been pretty liberal. But Mom? I can’t figure her out. It’s like she’s giving me permission in one hand and forbidding me in the other.” He pauses. “Oh. I guess I should mention you’re all restricted, too.”
Not one of them looks surprised at his confession, but the conversation lulls into a tense silence. Ian’s mother knows he crossed the forbidden river, and this, along with the news of his sister’s early move into the supernatural, stumps all of them. And then, there’s the impossible plane. The fire crackles, and no one moves.
I have nothing to contribute, so I hold quietly still beside Ian and simply listen. The boys have allowed me into their confidences. Where Diana and I are concerned, they have whole-heartedly conceded that the Code is broken. They no longer speak in hushed tones, tossing their eyes at each other over my head with silent signals. No. They include me. Tonight, I belong in their midst.
I don’t feel anything like the Outsider that I am.
Beside me, Diana curls up on her side, unmoved by the conversation, and I know that if the world were to stop turning, she would be that much happier for it. Life isn’t supposed to march on, leaving you behind to grieve in its wake. And yet, this is exactly what Life does. She knows it, and so do I. We’ve seen it time and again.
I reach over and squeeze her arm
. She remains still beneath my hand.
On the other side of Diana, Justin sits facing me. He clenches a fresh piece of wood in his fist, but his pocketknife has yet to touch it. I saw him take it up this morning and shove it into his jacket pocket just before we left camp. Now, he stares at it, uninspired. And when he feels my eyes on him, he glances up. I smile. His eyes linger a moment, and then he lies down, clutching the wood to his chest.
The change in his mood tugs at me. We’ve hardly spoken since Ian swept in and planted his kiss on my lips, and this saddens me. I think he plans to keep his distance, and I know why. I would be a fool if I didn’t sense his feelings for me. And I would be even more of a fool if I denied that there is a piece of him that pulls me in and makes me feel safer than I feel with anyone else.
I love Ian, but there is room in my heart for Justin in some form if he will allow it. As love comes to make more sense, I’m beginning to understand how big a place the heart is and how much it can bear. It is full of pockets: one for grief, one for joy, one for friendship, and so on. I haven’t told Justin how much I need his friendship. That even in this brief time since we’ve known each other he’s become important enough for me to tuck him into that pocket. And I hope beyond all that exists I’m not seeing an end to it.
Everyone begins to drift off to sleep, and soon, I’m the only one awake. Ian has draped his arm across me, and he breathes lightly. It’s nice to feel his presence near again.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind full of images that refuse to rest. We saw an airplane days ago, crashed in an open field—its graveyard for the past one hundred seven years. I try to envision it flying high above the clouds, but my mind cannot fathom how something so large and heavy could stay adrift on the air. Is it truly possible that Ian saw such a thing?
If he did, I dread what it could mean for this world. I ponder what Mona might have thought of such an event. What would she have done as leader of our village if a plane had roared across the top of it? How tarnished would her ideas of peace and safety have become then? Would she have finally admitted that the ways of the Village were in vain? That despite the Council’s efforts to prevent it, war in some form or another never ceases as long as there is life?