“Ok, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too,” she says, indicating my burned hand. Then she squeezes through the bedroom door, shutting it behind her with a muffled click.
Ringing out the rag in the bucket, I wipe the sweat and filth from his face first. Some color has returned to his cheeks, though not enough for me to think he’s out of the woods. There’s still the strong possibility of infection from either the burns or the original wound. Without access to medication, an infection will almost certainly kill him. But for right now he doesn’t run a fever and he breathes normally. Lara seems to think the bullet missed his lung by a matter of a few inches. I’m still waiting for Camrie to come give her medical assessment. She has so many people to attend to tonight.
Gently scrubbing the dried blood from his chest, I’m careful not to press too hard on his burned skin, not wanting to cause him anymore pain. Once I’ve cleaned him as best I can, I clean my hand and wrap it in fresh cloth. Then I set the bucket aside, draw my chair closer to his bed and lay my head down until it rests beside his shoulder. I interlace our fingers, watch his chest rise and fall and offer up a silent plea to whomever listens that they please let Jax live.
After all, I promised Daniel I’d always take care of Jax. He has to live, or else I’ve broken my promise.
He stirs slightly, a soft moan escaping on his weak breath. I lift my head. “Jax?”
His eyes flutter open, their bright green- blue standing in drastic contrast to his black hair and pale skin. It reminds me of a photograph I saw once years ago where everything had been color corrected to black and white; except the subject’s eyes, which were a piercing shade of deep green with a hazel ring and tiny gold flecks. Being the only color in the photo, the girls’ eyes became the focal point, giving her an air of mysterious authority and radiant beauty. I often wondered who the girl had been, what happened to the photo, why I don’t even remember where I saw it but can still remember every detail of her eyes.
“Hey, Kelsey,” Jax murmurs with the smallest hint of a smile, probably the most he can manage right now.
I grin, running a finger along his cheek. “Hey. How do you feel?”
“Like a giant bucket of garbage. My shoulder is burning.”
“I know. I burned you.”
He blinks a few times in confusion. “What? I thought I got shot?”
“You did. I burned the wound closed or you would have lost too much blood. Jax, you nearly died.”
I didn’t intend to cry. I swore to myself I’d hold the tears at bay because I have no right to cry. He was there, once again, because of me. He got shot saving my best friend who he doesn’t even like. While I know I can’t blame myself for what happened, I have no right to cry in front of Jax when he's risked so much for me and I've risked almost nothing for him in return. I feel selfish and self-centered and terrified that someone I love will die because I haven't chosen to be better.
But despite my attempts, the tears fall anyway, dainty rivers dribbling down to my chin before splashing onto the wrinkled, faded bed sheets.
Lifting his head a few inches, Jax runs a thumb across my damp skin. “Why are you crying? I’m fine. I’m mostly fine. I’ve told you a million times that-“
“I know, I know,” I interrupt with a strangled laugh. “It’s gonna take a lot more than the stupid League to take you out of this world.”
“Glad we’re finally on the same page,” he says, letting his head flop back to the pillow. “It does hurt like crap though. Guess this time the League came pretty close to making a liar out of me. What’s the verdict? Do I get to keep the arm? I mean, I've had it for longer than I can remember.”
His voice holds a tone of amusement, but I can hear the genuine concern masked beneath. I want to be reassuring and tell him everything will be alright, but he’ll know I’m lying.
“It’s too soon to tell,” I reply. “The bullet went straight through and missed your lung, or at least that’s what Lara said, but there’s still a risk of infection and we have no idea what other damage it may have done. The fact you’re awake right now is a good sign though.”
“Yeah well, I kinda wish I wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Jax. I know you’re in a lot of pain.”
“I guess you would know. You realize that you got shot before me? The ROC kid who never even touched a real gun until her eighteenth birthday gets shot before the rugged, tough surface-boy who has been handling guns and staring down the barrels of them for most of his life. To be honest, I felt like I was missing out before.”
He traces the barcode on my wrist with his thumb. “Now we both have barcodes and bullet holes. The mark of your world and the mark of mine.”
The words sting. The reminder that I’m still not really part of Jax’s world, that I still carry the mark of ROC forever inked on my skin. I know he didn’t mean to upset me, if anything, I have no doubt that Jax now views us as equals, but I pull away from his touch anyway. “Do you need anything? Water? Some food?”
With his good arm, he reaches out for me, bring me back toward him. “Can you stay here with me? Is that ok?”
I smile. “Of course I can.”
Sliding the chair closer, I turn it sideways so I can partially stretch out with my head next to his, half my body on his bed and the other half on the chair. I’m reminded of way he slept when I once laid in bed injured thanks to the League. Somehow, Jax and I always end up being equal, the same, as if we were carved from the same material. Tattoos and demons. It's strange how two people from such very different backgrounds, can become so similar after all.
He pulls my hand up until it rests on the center of his chest, his skin warm and damp with perspiration from the start of a fever. Within a few moments his breathing begins to slow.
“Thank you,” he whispers, groggy with the first vestiges of sleep. “For saving me.”
“Thank you for saving Rey.”
“I had to. For you. If he died, I knew you’d die too.”
I wish I could say that isn’t true, but I know I’d be lying. Isn’t that how we all ended up here in the first place? After everything I’ve been through, after meeting and falling in love with Jax, having Rey return from the dead, I remember what happened when I thought I’d lost him once before. I can’t stand the idea of it ever happening again.
But I also can’t say it would be any different if Jax died. Pieces of my soul have become so intertwined with both of them, as if they are part of the lifeblood keeping me alive. Should anything happen to either of them, I will never survive.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I wake late the following night, well after dinnertime, shocked that I slept for probably close to eighteen hours. Stretching my stiff neck, causing the bones to pop, and shaking my right arm that tingles from having fallen asleep, I take a moment to check on Jax. His condition seems unchanged from the night before though there's no denying the heat of the fever on his brow. He still snores, lying flat on his back with his mouth hanging open.
My stomach gives a dissatisfied grumble, which is understandable considering I haven’t eaten in over a day. Giving Jax one last glance, I tiptoe from the room to find food. I know some of the others brought packs with them just in case we couldn’t return to the compound right away. Ryder always has fat, juicy apples because I’m pretty sure that’s all he eats. And large chunks of rare meat.
Then I realize I haven’t seen him since Rey found me last night. Nor have I seen Charlie. I wonder if they’re here or if they went all the way back to the compound. They might not even know about Jax, having so many other injured or dead to handle.
Finding my way to the first floor, I poke my head into several empty rooms in search of either the food packs, or someone in charge to update me on the rest of last night’s happenings. As I turn down a narrow, wood paneled hallway, muffled voices drift from behind a closed door at the opposite end. Moving closer I recognize Nole’s baritone voice.
“We’d need more manpower
. Even without losing men in the battles with the League, and more like Raoul and Nathan who’ve set off to form their own group elsewhere, we still don’t have nearly enough. Ten to one at best."
“There are people inside willing to fight too,” someone replies. “I’m not sure how many exactly, they’d never say, but at least a hundred. Maybe more."
“Rey?” I whisper to myself in surprise. What could he and Nole possibly be discussing? Silent as one of the rabbits in the forest, I position myself inches from the closed door. If Elsa were here, she’d punish me for eavesdropping, especially on a leader which is illegal in ROC, but she isn’t here and this isn’t ROC. Didn’t Jax tell me once that rules are a little different on the surface? Why not use that to my advantage?
“Well, that works in our favor I suppose,” Nole says. “But without any way to contact them and confirm numbers, we can’t use that as part of the plan until we get there, provided your point of contact hasn’t been discovered yet.”
“Maybe we can appeal to that group to the west,” I hear Charlie respond. “I have a decent connection with Asandra. I think we can convince her to join our cause, or at least give her people the option. They have about as much to lose or gain as we do.”
“That would be far more beneficial,” Nole says. “Of course, that brings us to the next question of how do we get in?”
“Same way I got out,” Rey replies. “We have a team that can climb down the airshaft I escaped through. It’ll take us into the chambers located in Sector C and we can infiltrate from there. A group could head for the armory, one for the tech station and another to open the exterior door from the inside. If we go at night, follow my instructions and get in contact with Jericho once inside, by the time the Gendarme see us on the camera monitors and get themselves mobilized, we can be spread out through all five sectors. They'll never expect an attack from the surface."
My breath catches, my throat clenching so tightly I almost choke on my own saliva. They’re talking about ROC. They want to break in ROC.
Without thinking, I fling open the door and storm into the room, much to the surprise of Nole, Charlie and Rey.
“Are you people insane?” I demand as they all appear too stunned at my entrance to say anything.
“Kelsey!” Charlie exclaims, her features wide in shock.
“Told you so,” Rey says matter-of-factly to Nole with a hand flourish my direction. “You all didn’t need to worry about me saying anything. She figured it out all on her own.”
Scratching his head before smoothing his thick black hair back into place, Nole rises from his chair and moves around me to shut, and this time lock, the door to the hall. He then turns to me, mouth drawn into a tight line of annoyance. “You should sit.”
“You’re going to attack ROC, aren’t you?”
“Miss Keslin, it really would be best if you took a seat right now.”
“Do you all realize what will happen to you? They will kill you! All of you! You don’t even understand what you’re up against down there. The Gendarme are better armed than the League, you have cameras everywhere, and entire team of-”
“Kels,” Rey says, “can you seriously just sit down for sec?” He motions to the chair Nole has vacated. Pursing my lips, I glance between the three other occupants, all of whom look exhausted and I wonder if they even slept today, or just immediately began to plan the next war.
“Kelsey,” Rey says again, pointing at the chair. “If you’ll just hear us out.”
Plopping into the seat, I cross my arms over my chest and offer Nole a look of challenge. I’m not sure what reasoning he can give that will ever make me think this is a good idea.
“In response to your question,” Nole says, “though I realize it was rhetorical, yes, we are planning to infiltrate ROC.”
“But why? Charlie said they’ve left you all alone for like, almost fifteen years.”
“They have, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t attacked or even eradicated other surface groups in that time and we'd never know. Nor does it mean they aren’t planning something larger against all of us. Their mission is to wipe out all rebels on the surface, including us. It's why ROC was founded in the first place. If they ever want to return to the surface, they must first complete their mission."
I shake my head in fervent disagreement. “No. My father would never…”
Never what? Never kill people? Thanks to his lies and the continuation of the Gamble, he already has, my mother included. What makes me think that he would sentence the one he was supposed to love to death, but opt against killing total strangers who threaten the entire underground world he controls so carefully? I had made a promise to myself that I would no longer bury my head in the dirt and pretend my father and the rest of the Councilmembers aren’t some kind of monsters all their own. I've spent my whole life buried, now it's time to see the light, see my father for who he really is.
Lost, I stare vacantly around at my best friend and the two people who have risked so much to keep me alive. They've done more for me than anyone in ROC has even considered. These people have become my family now.
“Can we have a few minutes?” Rey asks, addressing Nole and Charlie. Sharing a quick glance, they both nod and quietly slip from the room, leaving Rey and I alone.
For a tense minute, neither of us speaks, choosing instead to hold the other's gaze, waiting for the other to back down first. We’ve done this ever since we were little. Normally it’s Rey who agrees to come around to my side. I used to think it was because I was always right, now I wonder if it isn’t because he’s always been in love with me and just wanted me to be happy.
Whatever his reasoning in the past, he does not seem to have any intention of backing down this time.
“Rey,” I whisper. “You can’t be serious about this?”
“Why not?” he asks in challenge, his voice steady but his eyes full of an anger so alien to him, I almost wonder if he’s been possessed.
“Because it will get all of us killed.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, if we do nothing, we’re dead anyway. It’s only a matter of time before they come after us, come after the compounds here on the surface. It’s like sitting inside ROC waiting for the next Gamble, wondering if our number will be drawn and knowing the odds are worse the longer we stay alive. I refuse to live like that anymore. I’d rather take action now than wait for ROC to do it.”
“Fine, but right now we have an advantage we never realized we had in ROC. We could leave. All of us. You and I could convince Charlie and Nole to take the Risers and get as far from ROC as possible.”
“And do what? Hide?” he demands, his angelic face darkened into a harsh scowl.
“And forget.”
Moving so quickly, I don’t have a chance to react, Rey storms forward. He yanks my burned right arm, twisting it around until my wrist stops less than two inches from my nose, the black tattooed barcode and numbers all I can see. The small scar from where Jax cut out my tracker. I cry out and try to pull away, but his grip is too strong, fingers pressed against the bones in my wrist so tightly I worry if he might actually break something.
“Tell me you didn’t forget!” he shouts, shaking my arm in my face. “Tell me you didn’t forget what they’ve done to us! To everyone in the O.Z, all those lives that have been lost from the rations and illness and the damn Gamble! My cousins are down there. My friends. Your friends, Elsa, people we care about and people who don’t deserve anything that has happened to them. People who could have a chance at life if it weren’t for the Council controlling their entire world! How are we supposed to just forget about them?”
Just as suddenly has he grabbed it, Rey releases my arm, letting it fall back to my side as his face transforms into an expression of despair and regret that is enough to splinter my already cracking heart. “Please, Kels, tell me you didn’t forget.”
Turning away, shoulders crumpling forward, he walks to a nearby window and places one hand on
the dusty glass. For the first time since I saw him that night in the woods, I realize how old he looks. He’s no longer the impish, vibrant eighteen-year old boy I grew up with. Now he’s become a lost, broken shell of himself; void of all of the things that I had grown to love; someone who has lived an entire lifetime of trials and tribulations that have left him less of who he once was. I am gazing upon the shattered remnants of a life of tragedy.
An intense, debilitating sadness washes over me, rubbing my insides raw. I want my best friend back, the Rey that laughed with me and pulled childish pranks during lessons and somehow always found a way to make me smile. The Rey who tampered with cameras just to spend five minutes with me and risked his number in the Gamble so I could have a sugar cookie on my birthday. I don’t know who this new Rey is, this grown man filled with rage and hatred, looking for revenge.
I want to hug him. I want to tell him that it’s ok to be broken. I’m a little broken too. Maybe, together, we can each become a full person again and learn to fix ourselves. I want to touch him and kiss him and find my lifelong friend again. I want to bring back the boy I love who may very well have died in those gas chambers after all.
But instead I stand, my feet rooted to the floor because I don’t know what to do with Rey. I don’t know if there is anything I can do anymore to save him.
“Rey,” I finally murmur. “I didn’t forget. I’ll never forget, but we’re up here, alive and together. That’s all I could possibly ask for. Going back to ROC, what purpose would that serve other than to lose more lives?”
“Do you know that today is May fifteenth?” he asks, his back still to me as one finger traces along the frame of the window, paint chips being brushed to the floor. “There’s a family on the second floor of the Risers’ compound and the wife keeps a calendar for everyone, creates a new one each year. Today is May fifteenth, which means the last Gamble was exactly one month ago. One month ago when my number was selected.”
Turning back to me, his face a mask of sorrow that strains at my heart, he leans against the window, the old wood of the frame creaking slightly. “The Gamble has taken everything from me; my dad first, then my mom, and eventually any hope I had of a better life for myself where I wouldn’t have to increase my odds of death just to have the chance to live.”
The Choice (The Gamble Series Book 2) Page 14