by Megan Lynch
“Jude,” he said, dragging out the vowel. “Jude, there are lots of people who love you.”
Jude sobbed again and lifted one of his hands to wipe his nose.
“Bye, Bristol,” he said.
And he jumped.
Bristol jumped, too. The water felt like glass shattering when his body hit, then stabbed cold shards all over his skin. He hadn’t really thought through the part after the jumping; Bristol could not swim. Even so, some survival instinct overtook him, and his arms and legs made swimming motions, pushing the water down so he could rise to the surface. When he made it to the air, he took a big breath, and then swore loudly. Water dripped from his forehead into his eyes, but he looked around for Jude.
He’d made it, too. He was only a few hundred feet away, making huge circles with his arms and breathing heavily. Bristol kicked his feet until his body started to move to Jude.
“Jude!” Bristol shouted. “Get over here!”
Jude swam towards Bristol with what looked like skilled technique.
“Get me to the shore,” Bristol said, just before taking in a mouthful of dirty water.
Jude hooked one arm around Bristol’s middle and swam, and in moments, Bristol’s legs found the floor of the river. He started to walk toward the pebble-lined shore, his legs heavy and his body freezing. “You! What were you thinking? Did you really think—”
Jude collapsed, folding himself so rapidly that his head nearly hit the brown rocks.
“Jude…”
“I just wanted to make things right!” he screamed. He flung a fist down, then did it again and again until blood flung from his awkward shape.
Bristol hunched with his hands on his knees until his breath slowed. He’d never been happier to hear it. He saw the blood coming from Jude’s fleshy hand.
On the sidewalk, pedestrians slowed their pace and stared. More were crossing the street to have a look. Bristol imagined the sight through their eyes: two dark-skinned immigrants, soaking wet, both out of breath, one more emotional than the culture would ever allow. He grabbed Jude, still flailing his arms up and down, and dragged him onto the street. From there, he threw him over his shoulder and walked in the direction of his apartment. “Sorry!” he called to the people staring. “My brother! He fell, but we’re fine now!”
Jude sobbed all the way to Bristol’s apartment.
“What on earth!” said Denver when Bristol finally set Jude down in the doorway.
“Can you get us some towels?” asked Bristol and closed the door.
Denver darted in and out of the bathroom with her signature speediness, but it still gave Bristol a moment to realize she probably shouldn’t be here when he talked to Jude. He took the towels from her and wrapped one around Jude’s shoulders.
“Thanks. Can we have a moment?”
“No, you may not,” she snapped. “This is my house too. What’s going on?”
“Jude…fell in the river.”
She glanced down at Jude’s face, then back at Bristol. “Did he jump?”
Bristol sighed. “Yes.”
“Because it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, but it’s all my fault.” Jude buried his face in his hands, and through his fingers, he told them everything.
Chapter Fourteen
Jude woke the next morning, still on Bristol and Denver’s couch. He stared at the ceiling and thought of last night. After he’d admitted to blowing the mission and essentially killing Stephen, Denver had reacted much in the way he’d expected—lunging for his throat—but Bristol had restrained his sister and reminded her that Jude was probably out of his mind. Anything could have led to Stephen’s plane being shot down.
Still, Jude was sick from shame and grief. At least someone knew now. If he couldn’t kill himself, he at least had to suffer. Now, suffering meant that as many people knew of his failure as possible.
Jude turned to his side. Someone—probably Bristol; sure as hell not Denver—had covered him with a white knitted afghan. The weight of it had a grounding effect on Jude, and he felt his body melt down into the cushions.
Next to him, the doorknob jingled. He curled his body in tighter and pulled the afghan over his head.
Denver walked out of her room and opened the door. “Hey, Samara.”
“Where is he?”
Denver’s voice was cold. “There.”
Jude cringed and felt the blanket being lifted away from him. Samara’s face was close to him.
They stared at each other for a few moments. Jude braced himself for another assault, but Samara only stared until her bottom jaw began to tremble. Jude looked into her eyes and saw something he didn’t expect—fear.
“Miss Shepherd…” He sat up and reached out. Samara hugged him. She was the only one who ever did that. He held onto her until silent tears trekked down his cheeks. His throat was too tight for air.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
“I know.”
“Tell him,” said Denver, her feet planted and her arms crossed. “Tell him what he’s done.”
“Not now, Den.”
“He needs to know.”
“What?” asked Jude, his voice breaking.
Samara exhaled through her nose and lowered her eyes. “Parliament met last night at midnight. They voted to send us back.”
Jude felt a stab in his stomach. “What? Doesn’t the UC council have final authority?”
“They’ve withdrawn their support in light of the mission failure. Since they don’t have a way forward with the mission now, they decided to let Scotland figure out what to do with us. And Scotland is going to send us back.”
“When?”
“Soon,” said Bristol, stepping out of his room. “I just talked to Cindy on the watch. She says the police will be by this afternoon to reclaim this apartment and to get all the essentials out this morning.”
Things weren’t quite coming together in Jude’s mind. “They’re sending us back? What does Daniel say?” Daniel was the coordinator at the Red Sea, the international aid group that initially provided support to the rebels in America. Surely he’d know what to do.
Samara rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The Red Sea is just an arm of the UC council. Daniel is trying to talk some sense into his superiors there, but it’s not looking good.” Samara’s head dropped back, her throat exposed.
“There are only two hundred of us. Can’t they just give us some manual labor and leave us alone?”
Samara made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “That’s what I’ve been pushing, Jude, for years now. In the past, when the world’s population was bigger, they may have overlooked two hundred people. Now they can’t, or they won’t.”
“We’ll have to go into hiding,” said Bristol.
“Hiding,” scoffed Denver. “And we thought we were done with that. Hiding.”
“We’re very lucky, actually,” said Samara, directing her words at Jude. “As long as we leave before the police can apprehend us, the five of us can go to London.”
“Five?”
“Well, seven, actually. Me, you, Denver, Bristol, Taye, and his two little brothers. Taye just came back to Edinburgh, but his employer in London said they’d take us at his warehouse, as long as we keep our heads down. It’s a different one that he worked in; almost all of the workers at this one are not documented citizens. The conditions don’t look great, but we’re beggars now, not choosers. Taye had arranged it at first for just him and his brothers, but he thinks they’ll take us too.”
Cork was one of Taye’s brothers. Jude hadn’t spoken to him since their tense ride back from the airship.
“Are we ever going to get to—”
“No,” said Denver. “No, we do not.” She held up a hand to stop Samara from saying anything further. “No, we do not get to go home. No, we do not get to stay here. No, we do not get to live in peace. No, we do not get to feel safe. We’re all on our own now. And we all have you to thank for that. All because you had to have your f
riend with you. What, are you in love with him or something?”
Jude blushed deeply.
“Oh my god.” She stormed out of the room, and Bristol followed her.
Samara whisked the blanket up and folded it. “This could be useful,” she said, “but it’s so big.”
“I can carry it,” said Jude. “I don’t have much.” He knew the words would sound hollow, but he needed to say them anyway. “I’m sorry.”
Samara put the blanket on Jude’s lap. “I know you’re sorry, Jude. I was angry at first, and part of me is still angry, but mostly I wouldn’t want to feel the way you feel right now. We were in trouble before, you know? But I do wish we still had Stephen. He was our foundation.”
Jude didn’t say anything as they gathered a few more essential items and left the apartment to pack up at Olympic Village. He was pretty sure, though, that Samara had been the foundation. For him, she had always been the strongest person in his life—the one with answers amid chaos. It was a wonder she didn’t know it.
Chapter Fifteen
Since there were no seats on the train, Denver threw her overstuffed red tartan duffle bag on the floor and sat on it. She was aware of Bristol’s gaze—a nonverbal warning not to draw attention—and ignored it, huffing loudly while she leaned back against the wall.
Ten days. Stephen and stupid Jude were only supposed to be gone for ten days, and then their fate would have been in the steady hands of professional spies and military fighters. Now those same professionals had turned on them. If they saw someone following too close or a person in uniform, they’d have to find a way to dodge them.
Bristol flinched, a tiny gesture that anyone else may have missed. But not Denver.
“It takes some getting used to,” she said.
He crouched next to her, and she could smell aftershave. He must have made sure to put some on, not knowing when his next shower would be. “What?”
“Not wearing a watch.”
Bristol bit his lip. “It didn’t take that long to get used to having it on; it can’t take that long to readjust.”
“It shouldn’t, but it does. They’re so cleverly designed; they feel like an extension of yourself after an hour. The loss of it makes you realize how vulnerable you are.”
Bristol made circles on his wrist with his thumb. “Good thing I’m adaptable.”
“A family trait.” Samara crouched on the floor next to them. Jude, Taye, Cork, and Henry joined them until they formed a little circle.
“So, when are we going to talk about the important stuff?” asked Taye, looking at Samara.
Bristol’s heart constricted. If this wasn’t enough of a nightmare, of course Taye had come back and immediately begun sniffing around Samara. He’d briefly considered going back to Cindy and asking if she knew of any way his fame could protect him—but he didn’t want to end up married to her, so he’d left without saying goodbye.
“What’s that?” asked Samara.
“We’re running again. A week ago, there was a plan in place to stop running for good. How can we get it going again?” Taye asked.
“You’re one to talk.” Bristol was surprised to hear a growl in his voice, but he tried not to let it show. “You ran from the running.”
“Ha! I like to think of it as moving onto better opportunities.”
“Better than liberating our home? Better than rescuing our families and friends?” Bristol asked. Denver put a hand on his shoulder.
Taye flipped his hand. “Says the hardened revolutionary who drew pictures for the resistance.”
Bristol jumped to his feet; Taye did the same, half a second behind. “I never liked you,” said Bristol, clenching his fists at his sides.
Samara stood and whispered harshly, “People are watching.”
The two men sat, both eyeing each other over crossed arms.
“The whole world is watching,” said Taye. “Which brings me back to my original point.” He turned his chin up at Samara. “What are we going to do?”
“Nurse Sue and Marty May are on a fishing ship to Norway. Kareale and Danovan should be in Ireland by now. People are scattering as far as Poland and Austria. How are we supposed to coordinate now?”
“Samara’s right,” said Denver. “The best we can hope for at this point is a life where no one bothers us. I’m willing to keep my head down if it means a little bit of peace.”
“That’s all it will be,” said Jude quietly.
Bristol looked up at him. In his peripheral, he saw Denver’s jaw tighten. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“A little bit of peace. Just for us, and it’ll never be for certain. Back at the monastery, someone said—” Jude bowed his head as if he didn’t know whose gaze to avoid. “Someone told us that if we were good at accepting defeat, we wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t be alive, really.”
Bristol closed his eyes and felt the train jerk underneath him. No one spoke as it gathered speed and volume. He supposed that even though Jude had been the one to muck everything up for everyone he loved, he was, in a sense, family. He was stuck with him. And even though he knew that Jude was the last person he should be listening to, he had a point.
Samara, of course, was the one to break the silence. “You know…the opposite of a little bit of peace is an abundance of conflict.”
“Well,” said Denver, looking daggers at Jude, “what else have we got to lose?”
Bristol and the others were allowed to drop their things off in their room before immediately being put to work. Bristol was afraid that all of their things wouldn’t fit in one room, and was reminded to once again lower his standards when he saw it. Just a small room with blankets and sleeping bags in muted colors strewn about in no order. There were no windows along the white cinderblock walls. It smelled strongly of mold.
“Here,” said the foreman, shoving an ancient handheld electronic device into Bristol’s hand. It was gray and about the length of his hand, with a screen on top and numbered buttons below it. “When an order comes in, this will beep. The number of the bin will show up here. Go get it, and put it here on the conveyer belt for shipping.”
They worked for nearly eight hours after their ten-hour train ride. By the time they made it back to their moldy room, Bristol fell asleep without even unpacking his own sleeping bag. He slept beside Samara on the cold tile floor. Just before he fell asleep, he wondered who might be on her other side.
Chapter Sixteen
Samara splashed some water on her face in the sink that stood in the corner of the room they all slept in. She knew she’d regret not brushing her teeth, but she was already late and being fired was unimaginable. She rushed out the door and down the metal-grid steps to the warehouse floor below.
It wasn’t that they weren't eager to formulate a new plan to infiltrate America with no financial or intelligent support from any government agencies. It was just that there didn’t seem to be any time to do it.
She had forgotten what it had been like to work like this: every waking hour, eating as fast as she could in order to spend more time working. She hadn’t spoken to anyone longer than three consecutive minutes since they’d arrived two weeks ago and, to make matters worse, every time they did speak, it was about fetching things and dropping them off again. She couldn’t seem to get away from it.
She was disappointed in herself for feeling so above it all. After all, she was raised a Five, and jobs like this one was what she’d expected to do for her entire life before Metrics surprised her with the assignment of Education Manager. This was the kind of job her parents would consider respectable. Not fancy, certainly, but honest, with a chance to keep physical strength and stamina up, and the ability to keep herself fed without taking any handouts.
Samara’s shoulders and neck ached, and she tried once again to put the pain out of her mind. Taye, coming from behind her, quickened his pace and handed her a handheld scanner.
“Here,” he said. “I’ve already gotten your first order for you.”
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“You’re a lifesaver. I overslept.”
“I’m sorry. I would have made sure you were up. Who was the last person out of the room? Why didn’t they make sure you were awake?”
Samara wasn’t quite sure, but she thought it might have been Bristol. She vaguely remembered shutting him out with the blanket over her head, insisting she’d be up in one minute.
“I don’t remember.”
“I’ll speak with everybody. We need to stick together. If one of us is out, there’s nowhere for us to go.”
“I could always join Nurse Sue in Norway.”
“Not possible.”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not.” Taye stopped and took a precious few seconds to take her free hand. “I need us to all take care of each other for one reason and one reason only. I don’t know what the next step from here is, but I know I want to take it with you.”
Samara really wished she’d brushed her teeth. She pressed her lips together and looked over his ear. “Let’s just get through today. Thank you for covering for me.”
She broke away and walked toward the bins of sex toys. One out of every three orders seemed to come from that area, so it was a good guess. Her scanner buzzed. She was right.
“What was that?” asked Denver, retrieving an unwrapped dildo and already starting off.
Samara grabbed a box of edible underwear, though she wasn’t exactly sure it was the correct flavor specified on the screen, and caught up with her. “Nothing. He wants us all to be more collaborative.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Collaboration?”
“He has a crush on me. So what?”
“So, you’re enjoying the attention at the expense of my brother.”
Samara’s face flashed hot. “No, I’m not.”
Denver shot her an eyebrows-up look and tossed her dildo onto the conveyer belt for shipping.
Samara threw her box on the belt and seethed. Attention was the last thing she wanted. She wanted time and space to think. Why was everyone so insistent on love? When they’d first arrived in Edinburgh, Bristol had wanted to marry her that first week, without any thoughts of their security. They hadn’t yet spent a month as foreign runaways and Taye was already making declarations of love and public displays of affection. Denver should be less worried about emotional affairs and more worried about having a funeral with no body, as they had for her husband just a few weeks ago. Having no time to think, plan, or strategize pissed her off enough, but having precious mental energy stolen by matters of the heart infuriated her.