Cole braced himself and prepared to roll.
21
DAVIS
Davis ran faster than she’d run in months. Her lungs burned, but she pushed through it. She was half ecstatic, half terrified. She’d arrived at the Olympiads to see a large projection of the guards congregating on the rooftop as they waited for Cole to make his slow ascent. She saw their guns and their handcuffs, and she’d turned from the spectator stands, pushing her way back to the streets, toward the building where they stood.
It wasn’t just about Cole making it through the ropes alive anymore. He’d been identified, likely by someone in the crowd—some dirty old Prior gambler—who’d recognized him from the FEUDS. He was so close to making it to the end—a minor miracle in itself—but for what? She knew what the guards would do if she didn’t get there in time. The thought of being given a second chance and having it ripped away was too much to bear. Fear kept her legs moving faster than she’d run since before she contracted the disease. She prayed Cole would move slowly, that even the promise of money—which is surely why he’d risked the Olympiads in the first place—wouldn’t enable him to quicken his own pace.
She had to get to him before he got to them.
Cole. Her Cole, whom she’d loved with her whole heart and had never stopped loving. Only one thing mattered to her then, and that was reaching him in time. She would die herself before she lost him again.
She’d recognized the building from the advertisement looming above it. She’d passed that very sign—an ad for luxury apartment buildings—every day on her way to her dance studio. She’d memorized the outline of the swimming pool, of the laughing, canned faces of a young family posing happily. It was a half mile from the border of the Slants. It may as well have been a hundred miles. She felt, as she went, as though she were running in place. Every second felt like an eternity, and yet her lungs burned and her legs begged for relief. Her still-weakened body fought against her mind and heart. But every time she wanted to stop, Cole’s face flashed in her mind.
She’d never met anyone like him. He was determined, stronger than his limitations. He was brilliant and sensitive and kind. He was doing it all for her; she’d seen that. All this time, he had to have known she was still out there—and he was pulling himself across that rope straight to her.
Or straight into the hands of the policemen.
She couldn’t let it happen. She couldn’t allow it to end this way.
It took her four minutes to reach the building from the spectator stands. Four long minutes in which she felt Cole’s life slipping away even as it was just restored to her. Then she was there, riding the elevator to the top, racing up and down the hall on the top floor as she searched for the entrance to the roof deck.
Thankfully, it was well marked for staff and judges. The hallways were eerily still. Where was everyone? Her heart in her throat, Davis pushed her way up the stairwell and onto the roof.
There were twenty or thirty people obscuring her view. Judges, civilians, fallen competitors. Gasps and cries rippled through the crowd of onlookers. What were they gaping at? Were they staring at Cole’s slain body? Davis shouldered her way through, elbowing and shoving everyone in her path without caring how it looked or whether she hurt them or whether anyone tried to stop her. She nearly fainted from relief when she saw Cole kneeling, still alive, in front of several guards. She paused just long enough to take in the scene.
One guard lifted an arm high in the air. He was wielding a Taser. “Go!” he yelled, and three other guards formed a semicircle, blocking Cole in against the edge of the roof. They, too, drew Tasers from their belts. Davis saw Cole’s eyes darting to the open air behind him. She knew in an instant what he planned to do.
“Cole,” she cried, hurling herself in front of the crowd, then in front of the guards, who didn’t register her presence fast enough. “Cole, no.” She threw her body onto the black tar surface of the rooftop, shielding his body from the guards. She braced herself against the pain that was sure to follow. She wasn’t afraid of the Tasers. She didn’t care what happened to her, as long as Cole was safe. She shut her eyes, trembling, shutting out the roaring cries from the people surrounding her. Waiting for the shock and the ensuing current of pain to rip through her body.
“Davis.” She heard his voice, low and tender, next to her.
She opened her eyes to find Cole’s eyes locked on her own. His were full of feeling, wide and disbelieving. He reached toward her, touching her cheek lightly, as if she were a fragile thing that he couldn’t quite believe was real.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks and over his fingertips. Together they looked up to see all four Tasers angled down at them. And yet, no one shot.
“Look,” Cole said, reaching for her. She looked up into the mouths of the guns. There was a firm hand gripping the arm of the guard who’d barked the command to pull the Tasers. The hand was adorned with a government-issue signet ring. Her father. He’d stopped them for now, but his eyes were fraught with doubt.
“Dad,” she said, pulling herself to her feet, careful to keep her body between Cole and the guards.
“Davis. You need to step aside.”
“He’s not a kidnapper, Dad,” she said. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. All this time, he’s been taking care of Vera in the Slants. Vera and her baby. Vera’s pregnant, Dad. That’s why her parents threw her out. And they’re working on a cure for Narxis. Vera’s baby is going to save us all.” She stopped, aware of the way her sentences were running into each other, making little sense to anyone.
“What are you saying?” her father said. Then, to the guards, “Lower the Tasers, for God’s sake.”
“Cole and his friend Tom are developing a cure for Narxis,” Davis said again. “He wants to help. He’s not a bad person, Dad. He doesn’t deserve this. I … I love him.” She held her father’s eyes, trying to convey through a single look the depth of emotion she felt and the truth of her words.
Her father swallowed, saying nothing. “Cameras off,” he finally said. “Off,” he bellowed again, when nobody moved. There was a general chaos as Priors scurried to obey his command and onlookers muttered to themselves. Davis turned to Cole, wrapping her arms around him.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” she wept into his neck. “I was sure you were dead.”
“I stayed alive for you,” he told her. “All of it, every day, was for you.” His forehead rested on hers and his breath was hot. Through her chest she felt his heart pounding. Without hesitating, she drew his mouth to hers, kissing him passionately. His lips against hers made her feel whole, complete again in a way she had forgotten. She felt bigger than life, and her heart soared with his above the rooftop and her father and the crowds and the Olympiads. Together, they were so much more than they were alone. They were invincible.
“Well,” her father said, his voice rough. “There’s certainly not a lack of love here.”
“Dad—” Davis started, but her father held up a hand, silencing her. He turned to address Cole.
“I watched you out there today,” he told Cole. “I saw the way you fought. You had strength of character. You fought from inside, without trying to derail anyone else. And you saved a competitor’s life earlier. I respect that. I’m not going to have someone executed for trying to live with integrity.”
“Sir, I—”
“Not a word,” her dad said wearily. “We have a lot to talk about. But let’s do it back in my office.” He put his hand out, helping them both to their feet, then he led them from the roof, past the few officials who had lingered to watch it all unfold. When they descended to the ground floor and climbed into the waiting taxi, Davis wrapped her arms around her father.
“Thank you,” she told him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Everything I do is because I love you,” he said to her.
“I know, Dad,” she said. “I understand that now. I kno
w all about my mom. And I see that you were protecting me all along. I know why you hid her from me.”
Her father’s eyes were sad as he spoke. He squeezed her tighter, and she breathed in his familiar scent of cigars and vanilla aftershave. It was a scent she’d known her entire life, and it immediately calmed her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he told her. “I can’t help but feel like I should have told you the truth. I couldn’t bear to hurt you. But maybe it wasn’t the right way. I’m human, just like everyone else. I spent my whole life teaching you. But it’s a new world, and everything’s changing. Maybe I could use a few pointers from you.”
“No,” she assured him. “I’m grateful for it. I wasn’t ready to know the truth until the moment I did.” Her dad smiled down at her, squeezing her shoulder, then turned to Cole.
“What’s this you say about curing Narxis?” he asked as the car sped back to their apartment. “Is what my daughter said true?”
“It’s all true, sir,” Cole said, his face grave. “We’ve been working for months. We’re close to developing something that may work.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” her dad repeated, gazing out the window. “And I’d like to help. I’ll provide your friend—the one directing the experiments—with anything he needs. Just tell me where to find him.”
“I can do better than that,” Cole said. “I can take you.”
“No.” They pulled up in front of their building, and Davis’s father nodded toward the door. “I want you to stay with my daughter. I suspect you two have some things you may want to talk about.”
Davis smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
She climbed out of the car while Cole gave the driver detailed instructions to Worsley’s lab in the Slants. She waited for him, and when the car pulled off, they walked hand in hand into her building. Cole had never been to her home before, she realized. He’d never been allowed. The feeling of freedom was intoxicating.
Cole felt it too, she realized. He squeezed her hand, drawing her to him. This time, when they kissed, it was a promise.
“I’ll never leave you again,” he told her.
Everything from now on—their devotion to each other, and what they chose to do with it—was up to them. Freedom was powerful. It was invincible. It was their destiny.
22
DAVIS
TWO MONTHS LATER
Davis completed thirty-two fouettés en tournant and slid to a graceful stop, padding lightly to the window of her studio. It had been ages since she’d nailed the thirty-two fouettés, but this week she’d done it three times. She was free of Narxis, having tested an early version of the vaccine, which was in the production phase. For the past month she’d been building back her strength and training for her role in the New Atlantic Ballet Company’s Cinderella, due to go on tour that month. Cole had promised to attend the opening performance. Davis wasn’t the prima ballerina in her new company. But she’d realized belatedly that it was better this way; she was dancing for the love of it, and she was working hard, but she no longer felt the pressing need for perfection.
The window of her studio overlooked the Slants. Formerly an eyesore, the Slants were being built up—and her father was at the head of the plans. Integration was moving full speed ahead, now that her father had passed the bill that allowed Priors and Gens to intermingle at all points in Columbus, and required equal plumbing, electricity, and housing standards in the Slants as well as in North Columbus.
A new bridge linking the Slants to the city proper had already been erected, and from her position at the window, Davis could see construction commencing on several modern apartment buildings. The estimated time for completion of the project was one year, with displaced Gens living in temporary housing in downtown Columbus, smack in the center of the town. It was no longer uncommon to see Gens and Priors intermingling, and according to her father it was happening more steadily and quicker than any other integration in history—largely due to the Gens’ recent contributions to the medical field. Ever since Thomas had perfected his Narxis vaccine, he’d become a local celebrity. Best of all, TOR-N had been shut down for good, and proceeds from the lawsuit against doctors who’d been skimming had been put toward the care of remaining patients and proper burials of the dead. Dr. Grady had finally gotten what was coming to him: he was in jail for a minimum of five years, even after paying reparations. The island itself had been turned into an animal sanctuary. Davis liked that.
Furthermore, a dialogue had been opened about just what was preventing Gens from attending top colleges, and why. Columbus had banded together to rebuild the city, and everyone was encouraged to contribute. The stigma still existed, but after only two months, they were making enormous strides. Davis felt pride, looking out at the Slants and knowing that just a few months ago there had nearly been a civil war. She and Cole—and their love—had helped bring about the change.
Her DirecTalk beeped loudly, interrupting her blissful haze. At first she worried it might be Mercer—they were in the process of rebuilding their friendship, after he’d professed his love for her, post-Olympiads. Davis had always known he didn’t really love her—not her essence, just what she represented for him. But she was glad he was in the process of finding himself, that he’d stopped trying to hide from what he was. Still, things had been tentative between them.
She picked up the new, heart pendant Cole had given her—purchased with part of his Olympiads winnings—after she had abandoned the chain that reminded her of her birth mother.
A message from Tom Worsley—not Mercer—was projected into the air. “Hospital,” it read. “Come quick. Rm 314.”
Cole was already waiting for her when she arrived at the hospital ten minutes later. Davis dashed inside, barely able to form sentences due to her excitement and the fact that she’d sprinted over as fast as she could. He smiled broadly and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Did you come right from work?” she asked, indicating his brown contractor’s uniform.
“Nope, I’ve just taken to wearing this thing around,” he said, rolling his eyes at the baggy tunic and matching pants. “Yeah, of course I came from work. Had to negotiate an early lunch, no big. You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“I wish you would just wear it around,” she teased. “You look pretty cute.” She pulled him in for another, longer kiss on the lips. She’d meant it. Cole was healthy and rugged looking, now that he spent his days in the sun working on building up the Slants. He wrapped a muscular arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She leaned there for a second, listening to his heartbeat where her head pressed against his broad chest. He smelled like sweat and linen and something else all his own. She loved his smell. She loved that it had become familiar to her.
She pulled back, realizing there was something else that was different about him. Then it hit her: the worry that had once darkened his features was gone. He smiled at her, and it occurred to her that he smiled so much more now, and he and Davis had taken to teasing each other and laughing a lot. What had once been a relationship built against the odds now felt easy. She’d never been so happy, and she thought he could probably say the same.
Hand in hand, they ran toward room 314, in the Delivery wing.
“How is she?” Vera’s health had been on the upswing since Thomas had perfected the vaccine. Still, he’d warned them that because of the physical toll the disease had already taken on her body, the birth would be high-risk. The thought of her friend in labor had put Davis’s nerves into high gear. Plus, she was two weeks early. Thomas stood outside the room, looking grim, and her heart sank. Then he broke into a smile.
“Both mama and baby are perfectly healthy,” Worsley informed them. “We’ve got a little girl on our hands. Our little miracle baby.”
Davis brought a hand to her mouth, and Cole wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Can we see her?
” he asked.
“She’s awake now,” Worsley said. “She’s been asking for you two. Go on in.”
Vera looked tired, but her smile glowed as she looked up from the little bundle in her arms to greet Cole and Davis.
“You came!” she said. “I’m so glad.”
“Of course we would,” Davis told her, rushing to her side. She gave Vera a kiss on her forehead and clasped her hand, gasping as she stared down at the baby’s lovely face.
“Vera. She’s incredible,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Vera asked. “Davis, I would love her no matter what. But it makes me so happy to know that none of her peers will be…” She trailed off, catching Cole’s eye.
“They won’t feel superior,” Cole finished. “They’ll all be the same.”
“Not the same,” Vera corrected. “Just not perfect. Your dad made the right decision, banning in utero treatments. Hope is going to grow up in a world free of all this awful pressure and prejudice.”
“Hope,” Davis repeated. “I like that.”
“It’s fitting,” Cole agreed. “She’s a special little baby.”
“Would you like to hold her?”
Cole nodded, and Vera placed Hope in his arms. Davis watched as he cradled the infant, his face full of emotion.
“Cole,” Vera said suddenly. “How’s the girl you’re friends with? The one who was with you that day when you found me at the abandoned house?”
“Mari’s doing well,” Cole told her, staring down at Hope’s upturned face. “So’s her father. Davis’s dad helped them relocate to a safe commune.”
“It’s fully integrated among Neithers, Gens, and Priors,” Davis added. “We’ve visited them there—they seem happy.” She smiled and leaned into Cole, bringing a finger to the baby’s cheek. Hope’s skin was soft and new. She was beautiful.
“That’s wonderful,” Vera said, leaning back against her pillow. “I’m so happy to hear it.”
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