by Ellery Kane
Quin interrupted me. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
I began again, “We were just—”
“Flirting. It looked like you were flirting.” Quin’s voice grew louder and more assured. And for a moment, I doubted myself. Had I been flirting?
“Chill out, McAllister,” Edison said with annoyance.
Quin’s jaw clenched, and he took a step toward us. “Shut up, Eddie,” he growled. “I’m not talking to you.”
Edison turned to me, eager to feed Quin’s fire. “There you go,” he said, gesturing toward Quin. “That’s the real him. Not as pretty as you thought, huh?”
I felt something heading for me, pressing down on me like a runaway train, but I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t slow it down. I knew instantly that it had been headed my way long before I ever saw it coming.
Quin’s eyes were dark with rage, just like that day on the bridge. But this time, they were fixed on me. He banged the table with his fist, sending Edison’s glass of water and several of Carrie’s files tumbling to the ground. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Talking. To. Him. Anymore.”
Each word was a command in a voice so intense that it shocked me, like the hot sting of a slap to the face. The words didn’t seem to come from my Quin, but rather some primitive other—a vestigial Quin that had been biding its time inside him waiting to be born.
Almost instantly, I could see my fear register on Quin’s face. He seemed as stunned as I was, as if he too had been unprepared for the birth of this other self.
“What’s going on in here?” My mother ran into the room, followed closely by Max, Carrie, and Elana.
Neither Quin nor I spoke.
Edison’s voice eagerly filled the uncomfortable silence. “I’d say jealousy, among other things.” His tone was mocking. I despised him again.
“I’m sorry,” Quin muttered to my mother so fast it was barely audible. “C’mon, Artos.”
Quin quickly clasped Artos’ leash around his neck. He walked hurriedly to the door without looking up. For a second, or maybe even less than a second, he paused in front of the open doorway. I thought—I hoped—he would turn around, but he didn’t.
“Lex, what—” my mother began, her tone a mixture of concern and disapproval.
“Leave me alone.” I walked to my room without another word.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
BREAKING
I LAY IN BED, NOT sleeping until sunrise. Though I hadn’t even closed my eyes, I had convinced myself that the night was a bad dream—until I saw Quin lying on the front porch, Artos curled next to him.
My mother sat at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers nervously. It didn’t seem as if she had slept much either. When I came into the room, she looked up but didn’t speak to me. After taking two big sips of her coffee, she walked toward the door. I followed her like a puppy.
“Alexandra, stay inside.” She was using her authoritative voice. “I need to talk to Quin alone.”
I sat at the table, trying not to feel anything. I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, only the sounds of their voices.
When my mother returned, her face was stoic. “Quin would like to talk to you,” she said.
I felt a heavy fog of dread around me as if I was walking to my own execution. Whatever Quin had to say, everything had already changed. I knew there was no going back to the way we had been before.
“Hi,” I said, my voice small.
Artos perked up first, his tail flip-flopping against the porch. “Hi, Artos.” I gave his head a pat.
Quin still hadn’t looked at me, but I could see he had been crying, and his hand was bruised.
“Are you going to look at me?” I asked him.
“I don’t know if I can,” Quin said. His voice was thin, breakable.
I sat down next to him. “What did you do to your hand?” I already suspected he had punched something. I reached to touch him, but he snapped his hand away.
“You know,” he confirmed.
“What happened last night?” My question remained in the space between us, unaddressed for a long time.
Then, “I know he was just pretending, but he kissed you on the cheek … and then, I saw you laughing with him. I thought maybe you liked him, after I told you … you know, how I felt about you. I—I couldn’t control myself.”
“We were just talking, Quin.”
“I know,” he agreed. “I know that now.” Quin sighed. “Lex, what if I had hit you?”
“But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You’re not like your father.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Quin or myself.
“Do you know that for sure?” Quin asked.
I realized that I couldn’t say yes, so I didn’t answer at all.
“Because that guy in there last night sounded a lot like my dad. That was his thing—he was so jealous. My mom couldn’t even smile at another guy without him flying into a complete rage. The day that he killed her, she was on the phone talking to a mechanic about our car. A mechanic.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” I already knew the answer.
“I ran away from the Guardian Force because I was becoming him. I was hurting people for no reason, people I didn’t even know. To think that I could hurt someone that I … that I love … I won’t let it happen.” His voice softened at the word love, and it made my heart ache.
“Did my mom tell you to do this? To end it with me?” I hoped she had. It was better to feel angry with my mother than to feel this way.
Quin shook his head. “She just told me that if I’m going to stay here, I have to learn to control my anger, and she’s right. She didn’t say anything about you.”
“So that’s it?” My voice was flat, but I felt something inside me breaking.
Quin didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead.
I reached to touch his face. He let me for a second, then he took my hand and put it back on my lap.
“Lex, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
I stood up. “You know, Quin, it doesn’t even really seem that hard for you.” I knew it wasn’t true, but I wanted to hurt him—needed to see it on his face— and I did. But it didn’t satisfy me as I’d hoped. Instead, it only added to my anguish.
It took everything in me to walk back inside the house and away from Quin. Each step yanked fiercely at my heart as if it was tied to him with an invisible thread.
CHAPTER FIFTY
FOR THE BEST
WHEN I WALKED BACK INSIDE, Max and Elana were awake.
“Lex, what happened? Are you okay?” Elana asked.
I ignored her, walking past them and back to my room. I pulled back my covers, crawled into bed, and pulled them over my head. I could still smell Quin on my pillowcase. I let the tears come, not even bothering to wipe them away.
I heard my door open and close. I knew it was my mother.
“Go away, Mom,” I snarled, without even showing my face.
She sat down on the bed and rubbed my shoulder through the blanket. “Lex, I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but it’s for the best. Quin has a lot of growing up to do, and I think you know that.”
“Whatever, Mom. Please stop talking.” I couldn’t stand knowing that she was right.
My mother didn’t listen to me. She kept right on talking. “What he went through as a boy … what he saw … well, it’s going to be hard for him to love someone the right way. Right now, his need is so intense that he’s going to break anybody who cares about him—and I don’t want that to be you.”
As she spoke, I could see the lights through the sheets flickering off and on and off again. My room went dark, matching my mood.
“I’m not your patient, Mom. You don’t have to use all this psychobabble with me. I understand Quin, probably better than anybody and certainly better than you.” I knew that my words would wound her, but I didn’t care. I only wanted someone to join me in feeling miserable.
; I continued, my anger gaining momentum. “Besides, what do you know about loving someone anyway? You drove away the only person who loved us. You just gave up.”
My mother was uncharacteristically silent. I peered at her cautiously from under the covers. Her eyes were welling with tears. More than anything, I wanted to take my words back, rewind and reverse them, tuck them back safely inside my mouth, where I would let them die. But I knew I couldn’t.
“You’re right, Lex. I didn’t handle things properly with your father.”
I was stunned. She hadn’t mentioned him in years.
“I think about that a lot, more than you know. But my mistakes aren’t relevant here. You do know Quin, so you know that I’m right. I want you to find love—the kind of love that you’re looking for. But I’m your mother, and I also have to protect you.” She patted me gently on the shoulder and kissed my head.
After she left, I lay there, numb. I had no tears left. Opening the locket around my neck, I studied my father’s face. I wondered if what my mother hoped for me was even possible. Did anybody actually find the love they looked for? And if they did, did it last? It seemed to me that someone always ended up giving up or running away or just watching the slow fading of love, like a picture left too long in the sun.
I closed the locket and pulled the covers back over my head.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
DISTURBING
I SPENT THE DAY IN a fog, avoiding everyone. I didn’t see Quin again until the next morning. He was sitting at the table with Carrie and my mother, the three of them hunched over Carrie’s computer. I could see right away something was wrong.
Quin met my stare first and didn’t look away. I wished he had. My eyes were puffy and red from crying. I saw my appearance slowly register on his face. He looked pained, as if someone was pinching his arm under the table.
“Lex,” he said, his voice flat.
My mother and Carrie looked up simultaneously. Carrie’s concern for me was instantly obvious, while my mother pretended that I looked just fine.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I was surprised to hear the sound of my own voice. It was a hoarse croak.
“Augustus,” Carrie said, gesturing me over to them.
I sat down next to my mother as far from Quin as possible. I could feel him still watching me, taking my inventory and sizing up the damage.
“Augustus?” I asked. I had hoped I would never have to speak his name again.
My mother nodded and turned Carrie’s computer screen toward me. There was an email from Dr. Bell.
Dear Carrie,
I have been so worried about you. I hope that wherever you are, you are safe. Since you left, a lot has happened, most of it because of you. After I saw your message, I looked at the data you referenced about the bullet that killed Elliot Barnes. Of course, you were right. Augustus knew all along about Quin. It seems as if he lied to turn us against Quin, but I’m still not sure why. Perhaps you know. I can only hope that Quin is safe as well.
After I realized that Augustus couldn’t be trusted, Hiro helped me hack into his email account. What we found was … well, there are really no words for what we found. You’ll have to see it for yourself. I’ve attached a link to this message, but please be prepared—it is disturbing. We believe that Augustus was planning to use it to blackmail the Guardian Force.
Right away, I convened the Council. We voted for Augustus’ removal from his position and planned to demand he leave headquarters immediately. But when we went to find him, he was gone. We haven’t seen him since.
I’ve assumed the leadership role here, but I must admit we are a bit lost. Vera couldn’t handle the stress and has resigned from the Council. People are beginning to lose faith that our cause is viable. I’m not sure if this message will reach you, but if it does, please let me know that you are okay.
Take care,
Shana
I sat in stunned silence for a moment before speaking. “I can’t believe Augustus ran away.”
My mother sighed. “I’m not surprised,” she said matter-of-factly. “Snakes like him have a way of sensing danger and slithering right under the nearest rock before it’s too late.”
“Have you looked at the link yet?” I wondered.
They all shook their heads.
Minutes later, we were all convened around the table, tunnel vision on Carrie’s computer screen.
“Here goes,” she said, clicking the link, her voice tentative.
It was an amateur video—the camera shaking and jostling, disconnected voices in the background.
“What are we looking at?” my mother asked.
Quin answered her. “It’s the Guardian headquarters. It looks like a real-life training exercise. After I became a member of the Guardian Force, I had them monthly to prepare for missions and deployment. They videotaped the exercises for our performance reviews. Usually, if we weren’t being tested, we were assigned a role, like acting as a civilian.”
“I assume you were administered Emovere beforehand.” My mother’s voice was more of a statement than a question.
Quin nodded.
The camera stabilized and a hand appeared, holding a white index card. It read:
Training Exercise, January 10, 2041.
Candidates Assessed: Legacy 132; Greenhorn 111; Legacy 365; Greenhorn 225.
Medications Administered: Emovere (batch #120); Agitor (batch #32); Onyx (batch #4)
In the background, we heard a man’s voice giving the command to begin the exercise. It sounded like General Ryker.
“Ryker,” Quin said, confirming my suspicions.
The Guardians advanced stoically and methodically on a group of pretend civilians. One of them spoke. I saw a badge on his jacket that read Greenhorn 111. His voice sounded removed, as if he was an unskilled actor.
“You are all under arrest by order of the Guardian Force. Stand up and face the wall.”
None of the pretend civilians moved.
Quin commented, “As civilians, we were usually instructed to resist or to refuse to follow instructions, anything to make the exercise more challenging.”
Another Guardian, Legacy 365, approached the civilians. He seemed agitated. His jaw was clenched as if he was grinding his teeth.
“We gave you an order.” His voice was demanding. I saw him reflexively kick one of the pretend civilians in the stomach. The man doubled over clutching his mid-section, groaning.
The background voices suddenly quieted as if everyone had turned their attention to the training exercise.
Greenhorn 225, a female Guardian, approached her partner and said something too quiet for the camera to record. Legacy 365’s fists balled tightly in response. He stiffly walked back toward the rest of the group. Behind him, one of the pretend civilians scurried to help his injured comrade.
At the sound of the movement, Legacy 365 turned back, removing his weapon. The camera fell, likely dropped in panic by its holder, but it continued to record. There was yelling and running, a chaos so fierce that I had to look away. When I turned my eyes back to the screen, I saw Legacy 365 shoot two of the pretend civilians and his partner, Greenhorn 225, before he was restrained by his fellow Guardian Force troops. A single drop of blood spattered onto the camera lens. Seconds later, it went to static, and my mother quickly pressed stop.
Elana ran from the room, crying. Carrie followed closely behind her.
I couldn’t help but look at Quin. He was the only one still staring at the computer screen. I watched his face for a moment, but it gave away nothing. He stood up without speaking and walked from the room.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
OKAY
I WENT TO LOOK FOR Elana. I found her sitting on the porch, petting Artos’ head methodically, her hand shaking. Quin was sitting next to her, his armed draped protectively around her shoulders. The sight stonewalled me. It felt as if my heart was being twisted and wrung out like a wet towel.
As I joined them, Quin removed
his arm, placing it casually by his side. Still, I couldn’t unsee it. I sat down next to Elana, but she didn’t acknowledge my presence. Her face seemed vacated as if she had left her body sitting there, abandoned.
“Elana?” I asked.
She didn’t respond, but continued her rhythmic petting, her hand’s movement almost involuntary.
I grabbed her arm. “Elana?”
She looked at me and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
“Elana, it’s okay. It’s over. You’re okay.”
She nodded, but her face seemed blank. My mother came outside, her brow furrowed with concern.
“I think she’s in shock,” Quin said.
My mother shook her head, her face contorted with guilt. Putting her arm around Elana, she said, “I shouldn’t have let her watch that … with what she’s been through. No one should have watched that.”
I turned back toward the house and saw Max standing in the doorway, observing us with unease.
“Is she okay?” he mouthed to me.
I shrugged. Okay was relative.
“I think we all need a break,” my mother announced, helping Elana back inside.
I followed them, sitting down next to Max in the living room. He flipped on the television. A rerun of a once popular reality show was playing. I was grateful for the distraction, even though I had seen the episode at least ten times. Since the government had assumed control of the media, television programming had changed drastically. Reruns recycled regularly, broken only by twice-a-day broadcasts from SFTV. Each city had its own local broadcast team approved by the government. At the bottom of the screen, a news ticker kept the public apprised of any breaking developments. I nudged Max and pointed.
Government announces short list for military promotion … Jamison Ryker thought to be top candidate … Ryker currently serves as leader of the Guardian Force in the San Francisco Bay Area …
Max raised his eyebrows. “Promoting Ryker? That seems like a not-so-great idea … unless you want a sadistic psychopath controlling drugged-out people with guns.” He snickered at his own vivid description.