Gray said nothing but continued to study the map on the ground. Ginger came to stand next to him. "It's your choice, Gray."
"Why?" He raised tortured eyes to her. "Why is it my choice? Do I condemn Thomas to save Maeve or do I give up on Maeve to save Thomas?" His eyes glimmered. "How do I make that choice?"
###
Maeve woke with a start. Sweat dripped down her face, and her hair was plastered to her head. She moved her head restlessly from side to side. There was something she should be doing. She couldn't lie here in her bed. People were counting on her. But who? Her fevered mind couldn't quite grasp any one thought, and her eyes slipped closed again.
"Maeve," a voice broke through the fevered fog surrounding her brain. "Maeve, drink this."
Maeve struggled to open her eyes, but they felt like someone had glued them shut. She knew that voice. She needed to reach it to keep the speaker safe. Finally, Maeve pried her eyes open. She squinted against the sunlight and saw a figure leaning over her, holding a cup to her lips. Maeve began to struggle to get away. Arabella. Arabella had done this to her and was trying to finish her off. With what little strength she had left, Maeve knocked the cup out of Arabella's hand, and she heard it clatter to the floor.
"Shhh." Maeve felt a cool cloth on her forehead. "It's OK, Maeve. It's just me. Emma."
The name penetrated Maeve's fever-induced delusion, and she stopped struggling and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, they opened again in alarm. "Emma," Maeve croaked. "Why are you in here? Get away. You'll get sick."
Emma slowly straightened from where she had leaned over to pick up the cup. "I think I get to make that choice, Maeve."
"But we don't have the antidote. Why would you do this? We don't both need to die."
Emma clasped Maeve's hand with both of her own. "Do you really think I could just let you suffer without trying to help?" She plumped the pillow behind Maeve's head and refilled the cup. "Drink this. It should help with the fever."
Maeve allowed Emma to lift her head and tip the cup's contents into her mouth. She no longer had the strength to fight, and she had to admit that it was nice not to be alone.
"How long have I been asleep?"
Emma looked at the clock on the wall. "A couple of hours. John should be back soon. Do you know what Arabella's plan was after she dropped you off here?"
A coughing fit consumed Maeve's body. When it stopped, she dropped her head weakly back onto the pillow. "She was going to let everyone get too sick to fight back, then swoop in with the cure and retake power." Maeve turned her head to look at Emma. "The cure, of course, would only be available to those who swore allegiance to her."
"Which the current leaders would never do." Emma rose and moved to look out the window. "It's almost a perfect plan."
Maeve laughed weakly. "I like your optimism."
Emma turned back to Maeve. "You are not going to die. And we are not going to let Arabella regain power in this city. We've worked too hard and come too far. I've spent my whole life fighting this battle. I'm not about to stop now."
Emma gave a weak cough. Maeve looked at her in alarm.
"Don't worry about me. Let's focus on keeping you comfortable." She coughed again.
"Emma, you need to rest. If you've been infected, your body won't be able to fight it. Forget about me," Maeve pleaded. "Take care of yourself."
Emma patted Maeve's hand as another coughing fit wracked her body. "I'll be fine, dear. You go back to sleep."
Exhausted, Maeve's eyes slid closed.
###
"Give it to her."
"Emma, be reasonable. What if we split it? Half to her and half to you. Surely that would be enough to keep you both alive until the lab can make more."
"John, you know that's not how it works. Give it to Maeve. She's going to die if you don't."
Maeve heard the whispered voices but couldn't make sense of the conversation. It sounded like someone was going to die. She wheezed in a breath. Why was it so hard to breathe? She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy. She sank further into the pillows and blankets and focused on breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe... A cough tore through her body, and she thought her lungs might exit her body through her mouth.
A cool hand raised her head, and she felt a syrupy liquid in her mouth. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt thick and closed, and she began to splutter and cough. "Come on, Maeve. You need to drink it." Maeve turned her head away from the cup like a child refusing her dinner. The cup returned to her mouth. Too tired to fight, Maeve allowed the liquid to flow down her throat and tried to swallow without coughing.
"That's great. A little more."
Maeve opened her mouth for more liquid. She heard a loud cough from the other side of the room. Her eyes were still too heavy to open. She knew she should be concerned about that cough, but she couldn't hold onto a thought for more than a second. She swallowed another gulp of liquid before the hand holding her head gently settled her back on the pillow.
She struggled to breathe once more. A hand clasped hers. "Come on, Maeve. Just breathe. You'll feel better soon."
Maeve focused on breathing and drifted once more into oblivion.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
"Let's pick up Thomas on the way to Palumbra." Gray heaved a sigh. "It's what Maeve would want us to do. We can't just leave him there all alone."
Tristan gave Gray a thoughtful look. "Do you really think Arabella just left him there?"
Gray walked to the entrance of the cavern and looked at the barren, rocky ground outside their shelter. "What do you mean?"
"She threw us out here because she figured we couldn't survive very long with no food or water and our hands bound. But I doubt she left Thomas at the Oasis by himself." He walked over and stood next to Gray. "It wouldn't make sense. How do you think she was going to get Maeve to actually infect people in Palumbra?"
Gray's eyes narrowed as he processed what Tristan had said. Ginger and Emery joined them at the entrance to the cavern.
"Arabella's smart. Crazy. But smart," Ginger said. "It only makes sense that she would hold Thomas as leverage over Maeve. Otherwise, Maeve would just hide somewhere until she died without infecting anyone else."
Gray stared off into the distance. "That's what I'm afraid of. That she would just give up on living to avoid hurting anyone else." His voice broke. "If she thought she was responsible for harming anyone else, it would break her. She would rather die."
Ginger slipped her hand into his and squeezed. "She's stronger than you think, Gray. We'll find her and figure out how to make her well. But we're of no use to her here. We have to get moving."
Gray swallowed hard and nodded.
"Emery says we need to move Northeast." Tristan looked at the sun then pointed slightly to their right. "We need to go that way."
"What about water?" Emery asked as they made their way out of the cavern and down the rocky slope, sliding and stumbling on the loose rocks.
"There has to be some water somewhere." Tristan surveyed the barren landscape around them. "We'll just have to hope we find something before we reach the desert."
###
Maeve woke to a darkened room and the faint sound of coughing, but it was not hers. Her muscles ached as if she had run a long way, but her mind was clear. She looked around the dim room and realized it was her own. She searched her memory for how she had come to be in her own bed. The last thing she remembered was stumbling into Palumbra and meeting Emma.
Emma. Maeve's eyes widened, and she struggled to push herself to a sitting position. She swung her aching legs to the floor and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed but remained upright. With one hand on the wall, she crossed the short distance to the door and quietly opened it. Steadying herself on the hallway wall, she followed the sound of voices and coughing. At the doorway to Emma's room, she stopped. John was sitting next to the bed, talking quietly to Emma. The look of love and sadness on h
is face held Maeve's attention. Emma smiled at something John said, then noticed Maeve.
"Maeve. Come on in." She coughed weakly after she spoke.
Maeve slowly entered the room, and John offered her his chair.
"What happened? Did I get you sick?"
Emma patted her hand. "No, Maeve. I chose to take care of you. You didn't cause this."
"But I did. I brought this disease to you." Maeve turned stricken eyes to John. "Isn't there anything we can do?"
John gave her a sad smile. "The government scientists are working to recreate the antidote, but it requires plagoran venom, and we don't have any. No one has seen plagorans in years."
"But we have," Maeve said excitedly. "We saw two plagorans on our way to The Hub. We helped one of them after Gray and Tristan wounded it."
John's sad eyes brightened slightly. "Where did you see it?"
"Just outside the outskirts of Palumbra, to the West, toward The Hub, before you get to the desert."
John hurried over to the other side of Emma's bed. "Did you hear that? It's our best hope. I have to go tell Cleo and the others." He kissed Emma's forehead. "You stay alive. I love you." Maeve turned her head away to give them a moment of privacy. John straightened and hurried toward the door.
"Wait." John stopped at Maeve's words. "The plagoran had some kind of tracking tag in its ear. It might help you find it."
John nodded and turned to go again. "Please don't hurt it," Maeve pleaded.
"I'll do my best, but we need that venom." He gave Emma one last look and walked out the door.
Maeve turned back to Emma. "Why are you so stubborn?"
Emma gave a slight shrug. "Guess I was born that way. Nice to see you looking better, though."
Maeve wrinkled her forehead. "How did that happen? And why isn't John sick?"
"You don't remember?"
Maeve shook her head. "The last thing I remember is Rufus getting you. Where is Rufus anyway?"
"Downstairs, sleeping. He looked like he'd had a rough few days. We cleaned him up and fed him. John says he's been sleeping ever since."
"But why do I feel better? And why isn't John sick?"
"A long time ago, John worked for Arabella." Maeve's shock must have shown on her face. "It was a long time ago, Maeve. There was a time when Arabella had ideals that John thought were worth pursuing. When her goal became the pursuit of power, he walked away."
"But that doesn't explain why he's not sick."
"There was a vaccine for this virus, and Arabella gave it to her top advisors."
Maeve sat in stunned silence. "She's had this virus plan for that long?"
Emma raised an eyebrow. "She's a smart lady. She always has a plan."
"But why do I feel better, and you're still sick? I thought this virus was 100% deadly."
The edge of Emma's mouth quirked in what could have been a smile or a grimace. "It is. John gave you the antidote."
"How did he have the antidote? Why didn't he give you some, too?"
Emma captured her gaze with a strong, steady one of her own. "When the WG was disbanded, all of their research was set aside to be looked at. The new government hasn't had a chance to go through everything, so John and some others went through the research to find anything related to this virus. They only found one dose of the antidote, Maeve. I told him to give it to you."
Maeve stared at Emma in stunned silence. "Why would you do that?" Her voice was strained. A lump formed in her throat.
Emma picked up Maeve's hand. "Because you have so much more life to live."
Maeve pulled her hand away and struggled to her feet. "So do you," she shouted. "Why would you choose to give it to me when I was the one that made you sick?"
"Maeve, sit down," Emma said in a calm but firm voice. "Shouting isn't helping anyone."
"But how could you do this?" Maeve returned to the chair. "You've survived so much. Why would you choose me?"
Emma scooted herself up a bit in the bed, and Maeve adjusted her pillow. "Maeve, it's because I've survived so much that I made that choice. I've lived my life. I've done my part." She began to cough, and her whole body contorted with the effort. When the coughing fit had passed, Maeve passed her a glass of water.
"Now, it's your turn. You have so much life left, Maeve." She smiled a weak smile. "Look at what you've already accomplished. Imagine how much more you can do."
Maeve shook her head. "What have I really done? Walked my friends into trouble because I was ridden with guilt. Infected you with a deadly virus. That's not a really great track record."
"Overthrew a corrupt government. Saved Gray's life. Taught kids like Thomas that freedom means something." Emma patted Maeve's hand. "I'd say you've done pretty well for only being 17."
Maeve gave her a doubtful look, then picked up Emma's hand. "But you can't die. I need you." Her eyes glimmered with tears, and she could speak no more.
Emma's body was once again wracked by a coughing fit. Maeve gripped her hand tightly until it passed. Emma took another sip of water. "You will be fine when I'm gone." Maeve shook her head but said nothing, still holding tightly to Emma's hand. "I've lived way longer than I expected to when I was your age. I've seen and done so many things. But my time is over."
"Don't say that. John and the others will make some more antidote now that they know where to find the plagoran."
"Maybe. And that would be great. But, honey, if they don't get it made in time, it will be OK. I don't want you to blame yourself."
"But I did this to you. I brought this virus into our house."
"No," Emma said fiercely. "Arabella did this to us. You did what you had to do to protect someone who was defenseless. You made the right choice."
Tears spilled over out of Maeve's eyes. "But I didn't," she sobbed. "I had the chance to kill Arabella, and I didn't. I could have prevented all of this."
"Tell me what happened."
Haltingly, Maeve told Emma about holding the gun on Arabella and choosing to set it aside rather than kill her. By the time the story was told, Maeve had laid her head on the bed, weary to the bone.
Emma gently stroked Maeve's hair. "Why did you make that choice, Maeve?"
Maeve sniffed. "I couldn't do it. All I could see was that soldier dying when I shot him." She raised her head. "I would do it again to save Gray, but I couldn't just kill her in cold blood. I couldn't." She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "But I should have. If I had..."
Emma stopped her with a raised hand. "What would have happened if you'd shot her?"
"Her guards would have killed me." Maeve continued talking before Emma could stop her. "But that would have been OK. At least you would have been safe."
"What about Ginger, Tristan, Emery and Gray? What about Thomas? What would have happened to them?"
Maeve stared at the frayed edge of the quilt before speaking. "The guards would have killed them, too," she said quietly.
"And what happened next?"
Maeve looked at her in confusion. "They injected me with the virus."
"So instead of making the choice that would assure you and your friends died, you chose to lay down your life and gave your friends a chance to live. Is that right?"
Maeve's eyes widened at Emma's choice of words. "Those were the words at the sanctuary."
Emma wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What sanctuary?"
"In Bellus, Gray and I ended up in a sanctuary, and the keeper told us this story about these men who had saved the people of Bellus at the cost of their own lives. Inscribed on the wall were the words 'Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends.' I don't think I really understood them until I had to make a choice." She raised her eyes to Emma's. "But if you die, was it the right one?"
"Maeve, look at me." Maeve raised her eyes until they met Emma's wise gray ones. "You made the right choice."
Maeve started to interrupt, but Emma held up her hand again. "You made the right choice. In both instances,
the soldier and Arabella, you protected your friends. That's never wrong. You gave them a fighting chance at life."
Maeve still looked skeptical.
"All we can do in this life is make the best choices we can, guided by what we know to be right and true. Is killing ever right? In a perfect world, no." Emma let out a short laugh that ended with a cough. "But this world is far from perfect, and sometimes there are no good choices. You can only pray that the outcome of the one you choose causes less harm than the other option."
Maeve considered Emma's words. "But how do you live with the knowledge that you picked a bad option simply because it was less bad than the other one?"
Emma shifted in the bed. "No one can tell you that. You have to make peace with it however you can. You pray for forgiveness, and you learn to forgive yourself. And, Maeve, if I don't make it, remember, I made a choice, too. And I know it was the right one."
Emma's eyelids began to drift closed. "I'm tired. Why don't you get some rest, too?"
Maeve helped Emma lay back down in the bed and returned to the chair. Emma's breathing evened out, but it contained a worrisome rasp. Maeve knew she should return to her own bed, but she stayed in the chair for a long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
"Come on, Emery. You have to keep up." Ginger stopped to wait for her sister. Emery stumbled on the rocky ground and slowly made her way up the hill everyone else had already climbed. Her face was pale and her hair lank and sweaty. Her breath came in short pants.
"I'm trying, Ginger," she huffed. "But I'm so thirsty." Emery finally reached the top of the hill and leaned against Ginger, struggling to catch her breath.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder at them. "We have to find water soon," he said in a low voice to Gray.
Gray nodded as his eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of water. In the distance, he could see the edge of the desert. Without water, they would never make it to the oasis. Emery was still recovering from being infected with the virus. She needed water and rest. Gray's stomach growled. Some food wouldn't hurt either. He turned to continue toward the desert when a shimmer to the west caught his eye. Slowly, he turned his head to get a better look, hope rising inside him like a fountain. He squinted into the distance and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun as a smile broke over his face.
The Lost City: The Palumbra Chronicles: Book Two Page 20