by Alex Mara
I tensed at once, my eyes flicking to Blaze, who lay on the cot with his eyes closed, face turned to the ceiling. Chances were he’d heard that, as quietly as it had been delivered.
And all at once, I realized Sorin was right. When he’d arrived, I had just been so happy to see Zara again, to know that she had a chance with the transfusion, that I hadn’t paid much more than glancing attention to the man who’d brought her.
But now it was written all over him. That wasn’t 8024—it wasn’t Blaze.
Whoever he was, he’d helped her anyway. But maybe that was part of something more insidious, a larger plan to infiltrate the outpost as the Scarlet had done.
My eyes flicked to Dr. Sorin, and I offered a small nod. “You should get some rest, too.”
“I’ll be close by tonight, in my office in case anything happens with her,” he said, moving off toward the doorway. “Call me if you need me. Understand?”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, watching him disappear through the doorway.
Which left me alone with the man who wasn’t Blaze.
As soon as Dr. Sorin had left, the infiltrator’s eyes opened. He turned his head toward where I stood a few feet away from his cot, my arms curled around my body.
“The doctor’s perceptive,” he said.
I breathed fast. “Who are you?”
“I’m 7950. Hello again, Dr. West.”
7950. The number came to me at once, and I recalled that he’d been exemplary, one of the “hot” ones who’d been promoted to Gale status, but not further. He’d served as a guard in the facility for some months.
I was about to ask my next question, but he lifted his free hand in a placating way. “Don’t worry—I’m not here to kill you or bring you back.”
I remained silent.
“I know you have no basis for believing that,” he said. “But you know I could break out of this cuff in a half-second if I wanted to.”
That was true. He could have killed me many times over already. “Where’s Blaze?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “He stayed behind to buy us time.”
I forced my eyes shut, tears springing into them at once. Now wasn’t the time to sob, so I held it in like a cork stoppering a bottle. “Is he dead?” I managed to say.
“He was badly injured after we got her from the silver den. It was a miracle he made it as far back as he did.”
“Where did you leave him?” I asked, my eyes opening. The reckless idea of going out there after him sprang into my mind, even if it wasn’t possible. The impulse still existed. I still loved him, and love sometimes makes us ridiculous.
“At the forest.”
“…the forest? There is no forest. It’s all dead.”
“There’s a forest, Dr. West. It’s some twenty miles northeast, a long strip of it running north. The silver den lay beyond it.”
A forest. Flora. The world wasn’t totally ravaged.
My focus returned to 7950. “Why are you here, above ground? And why were you helping him—us?”
“Well,” he began, turning his eyes back to the ceiling, “I was sent to kill 8024. It was a simple mission: find him and terminate him by any means possible.”
“And?”
His eyes returned to me, and they nearly seared me with their brilliance. “You helped him escape, Dr. West.”
“I did.”
“You were right—he’s different. I got the jump on him, and he outfought me. He could have killed me right there, but he didn’t. He let me live, and then, well, what else could I do? I wanted to help him live, too.” 7950’s eyes shifted back to me. “We don’t have to do what we’re doing, to be like we are.”
Two tears welled out of my eyes, fell down my cheeks in the silence that followed. “Why did you pretend to be him?”
“He asked me to. He wanted me to protect you and Zara. He wanted the outpost to have a champion among the infiltrators.” He closed his eyes, exhaled. “But the truth is, I just wanted to feel real. To do one completely right thing. We don’t live long, most of us.”
And by that, I knew he didn’t mean humans—he meant infiltrators, and all the shit we put them through. Recycling, fighting, the missions above ground.
Any one of those things were a death knell, but the fact that he had survived all of them meant he was one of the handful.
"You have a chip," I said. It wasn't a question.
"A chip?"
"At the back of your skull. It was implanted in the facility."
His free hand rose, the fingers searching the back of his head. "I don't feel anything."
His was like the Scarlet's, then: inserted elsewhere, somewhere I wouldn't guess. "You're dangerous," I said. "Regardless of your intentions, Ides can do anything he wants to you with that chip."
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. I felt exhausted, my mind addled. I didn't know what to do. Mostly, all I wanted to do was sleep. Blaze was gone.
I sat on the edge of Zara’s cot, facing 7950. I wanted to give him all my attention, to fulfill his wish to feel real. Especially after what he’d done for my sister.
I didn’t blame him. I only burnt for the real Blaze, to see him one more time. But I knew now I wouldn’t.
The words came etched in my mind: I wouldn’t ever see him again. My face dropped into my hands, and I wept on the edge of the cot.
I heard a clink and the creak of the bed frame next to me, and then I felt the warmth of his fingers through my pants. He was softly touching my knee.
“I'll leave,” he whispered. “I’ll do what I need to to protect the outpost and your sister by leaving this place. But you can’t stay here either, Dr. West.”
“You can call me Darcy,” I said, the words coming out broken. Then I raised my face. “Why can’t I stay?”
He studied my face. “They won’t stop coming for you. Don’t you know how valuable you are?”
I shook my head. “The Scarlet tried to execute code 85 on me back in the facility. She would have killed me.”
“It’s different in the facility,” he said slowly. “The rules are different.”
“How? Why? Why am I so valuable?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and he paused. His eyes bore nothing but honesty, and if anyone could pick out honesty in an infiltrator, it was me. “But that Scarlet’s mission was to bring you back explicitly alive.”
I sighed. “And I can’t even question her. Her chip detonated when she was captured.”
“They’ve probably already issued another,” he said. “Last I heard, the next one to come after Blaze would be the Gale he nearly killed. Iteration 8013."
I slow-blinked. The last time I'd seen 8013, Blaze had shoved into a fast-cryo machine and flipped the switch. The chances of him surviving that were...low. "8013's alive?"
"Very much so. And personally invested in neutralizing you both. You need to leave this place, Darcy.”
I raised my hands, gestured around me. “And go where? Do what? Survive how?”
“Go northeast, to the forest.”
“Why the forest?”
“Because it’s a forest, and they’re not supposed to exist,” he said simply. “The trees provide camouflage, shade from the sun. There’s running water.”
My eyes flitted to Zara. “I’m not a fighter like her.”
“Not a physical one,” he said. “But there are other sorts of fighters. And you are a fighter.”
How were these infiltrators so wise? I rose from the cot, wrapping my arms around myself again. I suddenly felt cold, drained, lifeless. And I didn’t want to hear him talk about me leaving Beacon anymore. Not tonight.
“There will be a trial,” I said. “With any luck, I can convince them not to hang us. I’ll tell them the truth about the facility. And who knows? Maybe they’ll banish me from here, and I’ll have to leave anyway.”
"You won't have to worry about them hanging me—I'll be gone by th
e morning." He returned to his recline on the cot. The newly scabbed scars from his fight gleamed in the overhead light, but 7950 lay with the pride of a king. I wished I had such confidence, after everything. "I wish you luck, Darcy West."
"And you," I said.
I turned to Zara, placed a kiss on her forehead, and I returned to the room in the hospital where Blaze and I had lain together for the first time. It was dark, empty, though when I lit the lantern and swung it around the room, I almost expected it not to be.
Only ghosts here. Patients long-dead, the eerie outlines of beds. The Blaze and Darcy who had once been together, who had known a little happiness.
I crossed to that bed he’d rested on, climbed onto it. From here I would be able to hear if Zara woke, or if anything happened. And this was the only place I felt safe. Here, at least, if I thought hard enough about him, maybe I could will that memory into my dreams.
I stared at the lantern's flame until my eyes closed, and darkness took me.
2:42 a.m.
A hand came over my mouth, large and powerful. I opened my eyes. The lantern's wick had burnt low and eventually snuffed itself. Or maybe it had been blown out. Either way, I only had my hearing—and my sense of smell.
I recognized that scent. Tears came to my eyes.
“Don’t yell,” he said.
I nearly sobbed, but I held it in.
The bed depressed next to me as he sat, his warm hand sliding off my lips. Even that touch sent electricity through my nerves.
“Are you you?” I whispered.
In response, he lowered his mouth to mine. His breath was warm on my face, and his lips were warmer. They touched my own with depth and urgency, parting to allow his tongue to dart in. His mingled with mine, caressing it in a way that felt wholly new and familiar all at once. Heat fluttered in my stomach.
Finally I pulled myself back. “Blaze.” I placed my hands at either side of his face. He felt dirty, grimy. “You're not dead.”
“I'm very much not dead,” he murmured between kisses. “Thanks to you.”
My hands slid down to his shoulders, his bare chest. He felt ripped up. "You're injured." I sat up. "How bad is it?"
"I'll live," he said, stroking my hair from my face.
"What happened? Where did you go? How did you survive them?"
"Right now," Blaze said, nearing my face with his own, "I have one request. No talking."
And then he kissed me so hard that any protest I might have conjured drifted away with the meeting of our tongues, and I found I had no will to talk anyway.
All I wanted to do was feel him against me. Inside me.
Our bodies took possession of us, and I wasn't aware of our clothes being discarded, or the heat that had built between us. I only knew the sheets beneath me felt wet, and we moved slickly against one another in the darkness.
I felt his lips on my mouth and cheeks, my forehead and eyelids. He found my neck, my chest, my sensitive nipples. And when he had whipped me into such a frenzy that I bit at his shoulder, he entered me all at once, and we went so still only our breathing sounded in the night.
"Darcy," he murmured by my face.
"Blaze," I said.
And then we didn't speak again with our voices—only our bodies in the darkness, playing a tune of breath and movement, of pleasure and a want I didn't think would ever be completely satisfied.
From him, I would always want more.
Afterward, we lay close. He stroked my arm, and I the hairs on his chest.
"7950..." I began.
"He's already gone," Blaze said.
I opened my eyes. "What do you mean?"
"He left the outpost."
"Did you see him go?"
"We spoke briefly. I'll be taking his place in the trial."
I raised to one elbow. "No, Blaze—you shouldn't. You can't. They might hang you."
He placed a hand on my cheek to steady me. "I can, and I will. We're together in this. If you want, we could leave now.”
“How?”
“The same way I got in.”
I didn’t even know what way that was, but I believed he could get us out of the outpost.
At the same time, I wanted the trial. These people needed to know the truth.
“No,” I said. “We have to stay until tomorrow.”
Blaze stirred beneath me. “I’ll go get 7950’s cuff on.”
Tears hit my eyes, and I placed my hand over his. "Can you stay with me until morning, at least?"
He stilled. “If that’s what you want, then I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, nudging my face back down to its place in the crook of his shoulder and chest. And I settled there easily, pooling into his warmth. "Just pretend we're in a cabin."
Something feathery moved inside my chest, even as my eyes grew heavy. "What did you say?"
"A cabin," he murmured, "deep in the forest, in the depths of winter."
I wanted to say more, but exhaustion pulled at me, his soothing words lulling me into a sleep so deep I could almost forget that we would be tried in the morning.
Tried and sentenced, and maybe banished. Maybe hung.
Twenty
Sunday, May 11, 2053
8:58 a.m.
Darcy
Trials always began promptly at 9. As a girl, I’d hated that hour of the day; it usually ended with someone hanging from the tree at the center of Beacon.
Beside me, Aiden apologized again. “They didn’t have to manacle your hands,” he said. We stood in one of the council building’s anterooms, waiting to be called in. I knew that Blaze waited elsewhere, except he had been restrained at both the wrists and ankles.
7950 would have been next to him, but as promised, he'd been gone from his hospital cot by morning. In his place had been Blaze, who had lifted his cuffed hand to greet me and the guardian who'd spent a night posted outside.
“It’s fine,” I said. “The elders are all about procedure, right?”
“Screw procedure,” Aiden said, grinding his teeth. “You’re no threat.”
I glanced up at him. “You might reserve judgment until you’ve witnessed the trial.”
A faint chime sounded, and Aiden set his fingers lightly at the small of my back. “I’ve already decided,” he said, gesturing me forward, “to trust the woman I’ve known since I was a boy. Regardless of whether she wants to kiss me back or not.”
His words hit me like a gut punch, but I didn't have time to respond. I took a deep breath, steeled myself as we stepped out into the council chamber. I had only been here once—not while a trial was underway, but as a field trip as a child. Our teacher—now Elder Leila—had brought us into the center of the circular room, swept her hand around, and we had all been awed by its size and grandeur.
This time, I was surprised by the closeness of the twelve elders’ faces staring at me. The room felt low, claustrophobic, and as I was escorted to my podium, I realized that this had been the reality of this outpost all along.
Beacon wasn’t nearly as large or as safe as I had always believed. That had been was an illusion of childhood, of a life spent inside its walls.
Aiden closed the small gate behind me, stood guard by my side. Across the way, Blaze was being escorted to the opposite podium. He had been given a roughspun clothing, and even after five years spent in a cloning facility, I was surprised by how impressive he looked in the simple clothes.
It seemed being outside the facility for a few days had changed my perception of things.
His eyes searched the room, and as soon as they found me, they stayed there. My heart felt overlarge as it thumped in my chest.
A moment later, the trial commenced as Elder Lucian stood. He spoke the familiar words about truth and justice, words of a nation now gone. And when he turned to me to ask if I would be truthful, I spoke at once. “Yes.” I would tell only the truth.
All of it.
Blaze agreed to the same, and soon I was being questioned by the elders in
rapid-fire fashion.
Lucian began. “Tell us how you know this man, Darcy.”
“He's a clone from the Ides Facility," I said, without grandeur or affect. "It's where I spent the past five years as a geneticist, designing them. He's been engineered and trained as a soldier.”
“To what end?” Elder Leila asked, her white hair floating around her head.
“To infiltrate the silver population,” I said. “And to end them.”
"Infiltrate?" Elder Lucian snapped. "What do you mean by that?"
I swallowed. "He's a shapeshifter, elder. He can turn into a silver."
A moment of needle-dropping silence occurred before the whole room burst into agitation. Elder Lucian was calling for Blaze to be removed and killed at once, and Elder Leila was trying to calm him, to allow the trial to proceed.
A few of the elders seemed to want to leave the council room entirely, while others appeared curious.
In the end, Elder Leila's temperance won out; additional guardians were posted around the platform where Blaze stood, their crossbows drawn and ready.
Elder Lucian drew his elder's robe over his chest, shook his head as he stood again. "We have a silver in Beacon and the woman who created him, but it appears I've been overruled in my opinion that these two should be hung at once. The trial will continue."
Elder Lucian inhaled, let out an enormous sigh before he said, “Has this silver been inside Beacon before?”
I nodded. “Not this one in particular. But yes, other infiltrators have on previous missions. Never with the intent to harm anyone in the outpost, though.”
“You’re certain of that?” Elder Leila asked.
I closed my eyes. “I can’t be totally certain, but I know what they were intended for. I personally designed many of their training modules and oversaw their psychological evaluations.”
"What about the woman who appeared at the gates two nights ago? The one who injured a guard when she spontaneously combusted? Was she capable of shifting, too?" Elder Lucian asked.
I gritted my teeth. "No, she wasn't capable of shifting. And yes, she was intending to harm someone in Beacon. Me, specifically. But I don't really count amongst the other citizenry."