Jane Doesn't Save the World

by Erin Grey

  “I couldn’t do that to anyone, let alone—” Aidon cleared his throat. “We may never be able to use the link, but it does mean something. I could never abandon you like that, knowing we’re connected.”

  Jasper wanted me to make a formal expression of gratitude, but Gwendolyn’s tearful thank-you won out.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, handing me the end of his scarf so I could wipe the tears away. He grinned. “It makes you go all blotchy and red-nosed.”

  I pushed his hand away. “Just when I thought you were nice, you go and be a jerk.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t cute.” He grinned wider than ever.

  Gwendolyn swooned.

  “This is inappropriate,” said Jasper. “Remember your vows, Jane.”

  “Can’t forget,” said Mitch.

  “You’re all overreacting,” Sandy fumed. “None of this means anything. It’s all a game to people like him. It always is.”

  I sniffed. “You’re … you’re so confusing.”

  His grin fell. “What do you mean?”

  I threw my hands into the air in frustration. “One minute you treat me like I’m a maths problem to be solved, then I’m an annoyance, then you’re all sweet and … and … complimenty.” I huffed. “Never mind; I won’t be around much longer.”

  Sandy yelled at me to stomp off, preferably slamming a door or two on the way, but Jasper convinced me to stand my ground and listen to anything Aidon might have to say.

  His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

  “I’m still tired from yesterday,” I said, filling the silence. “I’d like to lie down for a bit.” I turned to go but then Jasper reminded me of the importance of manners. He made me look Aidon in the eye. “Thank you for helping me until now and for everything you’re doing to help me get home. I really do appreciate it. I don’t want to fight with you. I think I’ll feel better after a nap.”

  He let me go without another word. But Quirinus didn’t. He waited around the corner, arms crossed. “Hypocrite,” he said softly.

  I halted. “What?”

  “You’re the one with multiple voices in her head, and you accuse Aidon of being confusing,” he said gruffly.

  “How do you know I …?”

  “You act differently depending on the situation you’re in or who you’re with, then look puzzled at your own behaviour,” he answered. “You hesitate before speaking, but your face shows the dissension inside. It’s subtle, but I used to be the same, before I learned how to properly use my energy. I know the signs now.”

  “You heard voices too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they …” I licked my lips. “Are they still there?”

  “Of course. But they work together now instead of arguing and making me behave in ways I don’t intend.”

  “There’s no way I’m ever going to stop arguing with Jasper,” said Sandy. “He’s such a spoilsport.”

  “Well, madam,” said Jasper. “I can’t say I am able to envision a peaceful relationship with one who constantly insists on applying the logic of a loose cannon.”

  I folded my arms, feeling more than a little vulnerable. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” I told Quirinus.

  “These walls are made of bamboo.” He grinned. “They’re not insulated against sound.”

  I huffed. “What do you want me to do? I can’t help the voices, or acting differently, or not understanding Aidon.”

  “You might not be able to help the first two before you’ve harnessed your energy; I’ll grant you that,” he said. “But understanding Aidon, you can do.”

  “He won’t tell me anything.”

  “He will. When he’s ready. In the meantime, I’ll tell you what you need to know for now: He lost his parents as a young child. His adoptive parents turned him over to the Regulators when they decided he was an ‘Abnormal’. He escaped, eventually, but he’s had years of loss and fighting and dragging himself out of the mud. Have a little empathy.”

  “I don’t see how that helps me understand—”

  “Pay attention,” demanded Quirinus. “He’s lost things, over and over again. So have you. How easily do you connect, knowing the risks?”

  “It is not logical to form strong connections when the probability is that those connections will shortly be dissolved,” said Jasper.

  “Friends hurt,” said Mitch. “Losing things hurts.”

  “But we need friends,” said Gwendolyn.

  “We’re better off without people,” said Sandy. “They don’t stick around anyway. They just mess everything up and then leave.”

  “You’re having a battle in there right now,” said Quirinus, poking my forehead. “I can see it on your face, in your eyes.” He jerked his chin towards where Aidon had been standing. “So is he. So are all of us.”

  I thought of Ju and her spiteful words about Charis, her coldness towards me. I should know better than anyone how hard it is to fight with your own mind.

  “Every one of us is broken,” continued Quirinus. “That’s why we need each other. Together we make something whole, something that works. It’s the only way we can have some sort of life. There’s no doing this alone.”

  His words echoed between the voices in my head, each one of them trying to understand in their own way. Jasper searching for the logic in it, Gwendolyn trying to see the bright side, BIOS parsing, compiling. Sandy fighting against it, clinging to her independence, knowing all the while that she was spiting herself. Mitch drowning in his fear of relying on others who could let you down, had let us down so many times before. Emmy reaching out her arms for a hug.

  I think Emmy got the point long before the rest of them.

  33

  Before

  34

  The bit where I get upset

  Aidon was pacing around the edge of the sleeping area when I woke. His eyes locked onto me as soon as I sat up.

  “Hi,” he said, fiddling with his glasses. “I want to take you somewhere. I think it’s time we did something about those powers of yours.”

  “Why?” I asked, still drowsy from my nap.

  “The portal is going to bring you face to face with the Regulators,” he answered with a grimly set jaw. “The more control you have over your energy, the safer you’ll be. You may even be able to use it to protect yourself.”

  “Okay,” I said, tipping out of the hammock and scrubbing my face with my hands. “I just need to grab some water.”

  Aidon patted the small pack on his back. “I’ve got everything we need.” He tapped his foot.

  “Somebody’s in a hurry,” said Sandy.

  After a quick bathroom visit, Aidon led me into the tangled jungle past the river, fearlessly pushing his way through thick undergrowth that I was scared to touch.

  “Ow!” I slapped my arm. “Something bit me!”

  “You’ll be fine,” said Aidon, not looking back. “There’s nothing life-threatening on this island.”

  I shivered and scratched, feeling spiders and bugs crawling all over my skin.

  At last we entered a cave hidden by intertwined vines. Aidon switched on the torch of his slab, and we plunged into the descending darkness. I fought back the stomach-churning, sweat-inducing claustrophobia that had increased tenfold after nearly being buried alive the last time I was in an underground passage.

  Fortunately, it didn’t take long to reach our destination: a massive cave with a ceiling at least three storeys high. The torch light didn’t reach to the furthest walls, even after Aidon set it on a high ledge to give the most illumination.

  “Let’s start at the beginning, like we did before in the arena,” said Aidon.

  “I don’t want to,” said Sandy. “It’s hard and it doesn’t work half the time.”

  “Oh, but we have to try,” said Gwendolyn.

  “One cannot improve without practise,” said Jasper.

  I followed Aidon’s instructions, but, unlike the one time when I’d invoked my energy together with
his, I couldn’t get beyond the snap and disconnect that happened with each try.

  I lost count after the tenth attempt and my patience shortly after that.

  “Told you it doesn’t work,” said Sandy with a sniff.

  “Look, just give up on me, ok?” I said, kicking a stone across the ground. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

  “We can make it work,” insisted Aidon. He lifted my hands and clasped his with them, palm to palm. “Let’s try the link.”

  >Warning! This application is attempting to perform an illegal operation!

  I blenched. “I thought it was too dangerous. The Regulators will find us.”

  “We’re too far underground here. And the walls are solid obsidian, which naturally blocks energy. The Regulators won’t be able to sense anything.”

  “Ok,” I said uncertainly and tried to focus.

  I reached down into the Earth, but at the first hint of Aidon’s power, I panicked and jolted away.

  Aidon refused to let go of my hands. “You’re nervous. Just relax. I’ve got you. No one is going to do anything to us. Breathe.”

  I took a deep breath and willed my muscles to loosen. Then I reached.

  Energy flowed through me, supported by Aidon’s power which welled up through his fingers into mine. I grasped at it …

  Snap.

  I whimpered in disappointment.

  “You’re getting it!” said Aidon, rubbing my shoulders. “You held on for much longer there.”

  I sighed and massaged my temples.

  “Let’s take a little break,” suggested Aidon. I flopped to the ground while he reached for his pack and pulled out two silver bottles of water and some bulbous, ribbed fruit. He sat next to me and handed over the goods.

  I bit into the fruit and gasped as the taste shocked my tongue. “It’s salty!”

  “They grow along the beach,” said Aidon, biting into his and slurping up the juices. “I picked them while you slept.”

  I swallowed some water. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m just … totally out of my element right now.”

  Aidon nodded. “I understand. I shouldn’t push you so hard.”

  “No, it’s ok. I know you’re just trying to get me home.” I ate to the core of my fruit and looked at the heart-shaped pits inside. “Do I eat these?” I asked.

  Aidon grinned. “When I was a kid, we used to have competitions to see who could spit them the furthest.”

  “Wanna play!” said Emmy.

  I quickly popped one in my mouth and spat it across the cave. I was pleased with my two-metre trajectory until Aidon sent his pit a good metre further than that. By the time we’d run out of pits, he’d wiped the floor with me, but I was laughing so hard I didn’t care. Emmy was the happiest I’d ever seen her.

  “Where did you spend your childhood?” I asked. “Caruthia? Is that how you know Zhian?”

  Aidon’s expression turned sombre.

  “Oh no,” cried Gwendolyn. “He’s sad now!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said hastily. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore topic. Forget about it.”

  “It’s ok,” said Aidon, leaning back on his elbows, long legs stretched out in front of him. “I don’t mind talking about it.”

  I sat cross-legged, arms resting on my thighs, trying to appear non-threatening.

  “Oh, I want to hear all the sordid details,” said Sandy gleefully.

  “Do not press him,” said Jasper. “He has no obligation to share such information.”

  “I was actually born in Jenju,” said Aidon. “But we moved to Caruthia when I was four. My parents died in a road accident a few months later.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured.

  Aidon chuckled. “You have an odd habit of apologizing for things that have nothing to do with you.”

  “I’m sorry—” I mentally kicked myself. “I mean, I know. What I’m trying to say is that I’m sad it happened to you, and I wish it were different.”

  “Okay,” said Aidon. “Thank you.”

  “In my home country, we have a word we use all the time: ‘shame’. In other English-speaking countries, it has a different meaning, but where I come from, we use it to express empathy. And it’s so full of meaning that when someone says it to you, it’s like they’re saying, ‘I feel your pain, I wish I could make it better, I’m here for you’.” I threw him a quick sideways glance. “That’s how I feel for you right now.”

  He sat upright. “Say it again.” He watched my mouth as I repeated it.

  “Shame,” he mimicked.

  “Yes, that’s right.” I smiled. “Shame, poor little Aidon, losing his parents so young.”

  “I like it,” he said, settling back on his elbows again. “I think I’ll use it from now on.”

  “Who took care of you when your parents died?” I asked.

  “Zhian’s family took me in.”

  “Ooh, shocker!” said Sandy.

  Aidon shifted onto his back, folding his hands on his chest. “Our mothers had been friends since childhood. Zhian became my best friend. Until …” He trailed off, brow furrowed.

  “Until?”

  “Do not pressure him!” barked Jasper. “It is impolite.”

  “Don’t spoil it!” hissed Sandy. “I want to know the whole story.”

  “It’s a sad story,” said Mitch.

  Aidon closed his eyes. “One day—we were about eight, nine, I can’t remember—Zhian and I were playing together outside. He’d already discovered his healing abilities and was learning how to use them, but I hadn’t accessed my energy yet. The doctors said it was normal for a child who’d experienced a trauma like losing their parents, that I just needed time.

  “Anyway, we were playing, looking for wounded animals for Zhian to heal. And I found this rabbit. It must have gotten caught in a trap or something because its leg was all mangled. I held it while Zhian started to mend its leg.

  “We were sitting on the ground, and suddenly I felt this connection that kept reaching further and further into the earth, until I could see everything that was going on underneath us. At the same time, I saw inside the rabbit, saw that there was this … thing inside it that was rotting, and all its cells were rotting too, and then I panicked and the rotting thing kind of exploded. Next thing I knew, I was holding a dead rabbit, and Zhian was screaming that I’d killed it. All around me—the grass, the plants—everything was dead. When Zhian saw that, he ran home, yelling to everyone that I was a murderer.

  “I still remember how his parents looked at me when I got back to the house. Angry and sad and … sorry for me. Maybe they saw how terrified I was. But they couldn’t risk keeping a killer in the house. They sent me to a clinic the next day.”

  “That’s so …” The hurt reached into my heart and squeezed, making Mitch cry out. “I just … shame, Aidon. Shame.”

  His lip tilted up slightly. “The clinic wasn’t too bad. I was drugged so thoroughly I don’t remember much at all. It was only later, when I hit puberty and the drugs weakened in effect, that I realised what was happening. I decided I wasn’t going to live like that forever.

  “I stopped taking the drugs but kept acting drugged. When I was about fifteen—I’d lost track of time, didn’t even know my own age exactly—I escaped. Quirinus had just been brought in to the clinic. As soon as he was released into the general population, I got him off the drugs and told him my plan. A couple of days later, we were free.”

  “Then you started TRAG?”

  “A few years later. We got in touch with other ‘abnormals’ on the run. Many had friends or relatives in clinics. I decided I was going to do something about it, and Quirinus stuck by me. It took years to build a network, set up bases, and get equipped before we could start breaking people out.”

  “How many have you freed?”

  “Around 300.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t hide Gwendolyn’s disappointment. She had expected a much larger number.

  Aidon opened his
eyes and looked at me. “It’s not much, I know. There are so many incarcerated. But we can only move small groups at a time. And each operation takes months to plan. In between, we have to go dark so they can’t trace us.”

  “I get it,” I said, doodling in the sand. “It’s actually quite a big number, when you think about it.”

  Aidon sat up and rested his arms on his bent knees. “But not nearly big enough.”

  He stood and put out his hand. “It’s time to try again.”

  I groaned. “Do I have to?”

  “Come on.” He caught my hand and pulled me to my feet. “You can do this.”

  “I’m so tired,” I whined.

  “Shame,” said Aidon.

  I snickered. “You’re not supposed to use it sarcastically.”

  He put his palms against mine and entwined our fingers. “Focus.”

  I let out a heavy exhale and thought about reaching into the ground.

  “Think about why you want to get back to Earth so badly,” said Aidon. “Then channel that energy into your connection with me.”

  “Them,” said Mitch. “We have to help them. Things are bad. Everything’s bad.”

  You’re bad, said the Deep Dark.

  “We’ve got to do it for them,” said Mitch. “We have to die.”

  Aidon’s grip tightened painfully.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, fingers of one hand holding fast to mine while the others pressed against his temple. His eyes flashed open. “You want to die.”

  I frowned. “You already knew that. I told you my family needs my life insurance money to get out the country—”

  He shook his head. “That’s a reason to fake your death. But you want to die. You crave it.”

  My jaw dropped. I tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed my other hand and held tight.

  “It’s the only way,” I said desperately.

  “You truly believe that, but not because it will save your family and not because of any temporary anxiety or depression. You long for death at the core of your being.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”