by Ellery Kane
Without hesitation, I added, “Quin, I love you.”
“You do?” he asked, doubtful.
I nodded.
“You know, nobody has said that to me since I was six. I might need you to say it again.” Quin gave me a boyish smile.
“I love you,” I repeated.
Quin pulled me in close to him. I could feel the soft leather of his jacket on my cheek. “I love you too,” he said aloud, his voice certain.
He began whispering his kisses against my neck, ever so slowly meandering his way back to my lips. It was torturous in the best way.
Taking a step back from me, Quin took off his jacket. I watched him carefully, barely breathing. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then flopped down casually on the bed. I exhaled.
He seemed so calm, as if the whole world wasn’t about to break wide open. Grinning, he beckoned to me with his hand. Quin was right, when I’d invited him here, some part of me must have known this would happen. I had imagined it many times. Still, I felt like another person, an alternate me. This was happening.
I walked toward him, biting my lip, nervous. He took my hand and guided me onto his lap, sitting so my legs fit closely on either side of his body. His face seemed content, relaxed. I tried not to think that he had done this before—I tried not to think at all.
“What are you thinking?” Quin asked. Obviously, my efforts had proven unsuccessful.
“Nothing,” I lied.
He gave me a skeptical look. “Tell me,” he encouraged.
I sighed. “Just that you seem so calm.”
Quin widened his eyes at me. “Are you kidding?” he asked, incredulously.
He took my hand and placed it on his bare chest. A man’s, not a boy’s, his body was different than I had expected, so real that it terrified and thrilled me simultaneously. I could feel his heart beating fast, its rhythm speaking to mine in a language that I understood—its wild pounding so much like my own, both comforting and exciting me.
I noticed a small scar on his shoulder and one on his side. I traced them with my finger.
“Tell me about your scars,” I said.
“Okay, Doctor Knightley,” he replied, with pretend seriousness.
He displayed the knuckles on his right hand. “This one, I think you already know about.”
I nodded. “Punching the wall at Riverbend,” I said.
“This one,” he pointed to his shoulder, “is from a fight I had when I was thirteen. It happened at one of the foster homes I lived in. This bigger kid pushed me, and I fell against a table.”
“And this one?” I asked, lightly grazing the side of his abdomen where his muscles were taut. He grabbed my hand, laughing.
“A fight,” he said again, still chuckling.
“Do you have any scars that aren’t from fighting?” I teased him.
He held up his elbow. There was a thin, white line on it, barely visible.
“Skateboarding, when I was ten.”
“Then that’s my favorite,” I declared.
“Is it?” he asked, a playful lilt in his voice. “Maybe you haven’t seen them all yet.”
Quin gave me a sly grin. I could feel my face warming, but I smiled back. Putting his hands around my waist, Quin moved me gently from his lap to the bed, paper-weighting himself on top of me. He was addressing all of my senses. I saw his brown eyes, lit by the flashlight, twinkling with tiny flecks of amber and gold. I heard his breathing, quick and even. I felt his warmth, his heaviness, so solid like an anchor grounding me. I could smell him—summer morning, crisp and fresh, but with a promise of heat.
He whispered to me, punctuating each word by putting his lips on mine. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CALL IT EVEN
“GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE,” QUIN CHIRPED, a wide grin on his face.
“You’re certainly chipper this morning, McAllister,” Edison observed.
Ignoring Edison, Quin leaned over from behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me on the cheek. In a softer voice, he added, “Good morning, Lex.”
“Oh … that explains it,” Edison infused his voice with mock drama. I waited for him to follow his remark with something mean or sarcastic, but he didn’t. He just smiled.
Quin had never kissed me in front of my mother before—or anyone else for that matter—but she didn’t seem to mind. When I glanced at her, she winked at me. I grinned back at her conspiratorially, inwardly feeling satisfied. For once, I had a secret I would keep.
From across the table, Quin and I exchanged a story with our eyes, one that belonged only to us. It had been early morning by the time we had returned from the marina and snuck back inside the house. Quin lay in bed next to me, running his fingers through my hair. It felt so good that I tried not to fall asleep, but when the sun awakened me hours later, Quin was gone. On my pillow was my poetry book, with a small piece of paper marking the dog-eared page. As I read Quin’s handwriting, I felt giddy.
“Twenty is my favorite year so far. In case you forgot, I love you.”—Q
I had folded the note carefully and returned it safely to the book. Since first seeing it that morning, I had mentally reread it a hundred times. My body was sitting there, having breakfast, but every other part of me was with Quin.
Edison cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, earth to Lex … come in, Lex.”
I felt my face instantly redden, and I glared at Edison. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
Quin chuckled to himself, eating his toast hurriedly. “Edison just asked if you wanted to accompany us on a run. We’re taking Artos.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to be casual. “Sure.”
Five miles later, Artos was exhausted. He lay panting on the porch, lapping up water from a bowl in between breaths. Quin sat next to him, his face glistening with sweat. Elana and Edison stood near the door stretching. For the third time that week, Edison had beaten all of us back to the house.
“Edison, you’re getting really fast,” Elana said, giving him a playful punch on the arm.
He nodded. “I ran track in high school for a while, but I got kicked off the team for drinking.” I was surprised to hear Edison publicly admit to any flaws in his character. It seemed as if he immediately regretted his disclosure because he quickly added, “And I got pretty good at running away from this guy.” He gestured toward Quin.
Quin shook his head. “I think it was the other way around, Van Sant. You were—” Quin stopped himself. Turning to look at Edison, he continued, “You know we both acted like idiots. Why don’t we just call it even?”
Edison looked surprised, almost disappointed. He smirked. “Man, McAllister, what’s gotten into you? I can’t keep this bitter rivalry going on my own.”
Quin shrugged, glancing in my direction.
“Looks like love is in the air.” Edison couldn’t resist. “C’mon, Red, let’s go inside before Quin tries to hug me.” We all laughed.
When they left, I sat next to Quin, letting my knee touch his.
“That was big of you,” I said.
He grinned, shaking his head in agreement. “You were right. He’s not that bad. But I’m not sure Eddie will know what to do with himself without a sparring partner.”
Quin put his hand on my knee. I saw the thin scar across his knuckles and touched it, smiling to myself.
“I got your note.”
“Did you like it?” Quin’s voice was eager, seeking my approval.
I nodded and looked up into his eyes.
“Can I kiss you, even though I’m sweaty?” he asked.
I laughed. “Quin, you don’t have to ask my permission. From here on out, you can just assume that I’m going to answer yes to any question that starts with, can I kiss you.”
“I like that rule,” he said, lifting my chin gently and bringing his lips to mine.
“Quin! Lex!” My mother’s urgent voice traveled from the kitchen interrupting us mid-k
iss. She pointed to her cell phone on the kitchen table. Her apprehension evident. “There’s a message from Carrie.”
I picked up the phone and looked at the screen, showing it to Quin. There was one word—Resilience, the code word we decided on before she left. It signaled that Carrie’s part of the plan was complete and ours was about to begin.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
SUNDAY
IT WAS THE LONGEST DAY of my life. Time seemed to barely pull itself along as if slogging through thick mud. And yet, the passing of each hour only sharpened my apprehension. I wanted time to pass. Then I wanted time to stop. No matter what I wanted, those hands continued their inevitable measured crawl around the clock’s face.
I spent most of the day walling out my fear by pretending to be a disinterested onlooker, observing everyone else. Though my mother tried to contain her nervous energy, her body would not quietly hold its tension. Like a trapped animal, she paced, tapped her fingers and talked incessantly about nothing.
Edison and Elana were a study in contrasts. Edison was a box, holding his contents in tightly, concealing his emotions beneath a flat and stoic exterior. Meanwhile, Elana’s face gave it all away. Her brow was permanently furrowed, her body on high alert. Typical Quin, he was reserved, his eyes distant. When I watched him, I felt alone, knowing he was somewhere only he could go. I was surprised that, when our eyes met, he saw me, his gaze intense.
We planned to depart from the marina at 3 a.m. A couple of hours before midnight, we ate dinner. Well, Quin and Edison ate. The rest of us picked at our food, pretending to make conversation. Quin talked us through our plan once more. Afterward, I retreated to my room to make a journal entry.
June 9, 2041
I’ve had so many firsts lately, so many experiences that have forever shaped the person that I am. I know tonight promises more firsts, though I have no way of knowing how this will all end. Our plan is dangerous. Even though I don’t want to admit it, I know some people will probably get hurt. But more than that, more than anything, I’m most afraid of losing someone I love. Being without my father for so long was one thing—I knew he was still there, even if he was always just out of my reach. Death, on the other hand, is another country, completely unreachable. I’ve never lost someone that I love before, not that way, and the thought of it actually happening is unbearable. I don’t know how my life would continue, and yet, the worst part is that it would …
There was a knock at my door. It was my mother. I closed my journal, my entry unfinished.
“I thought I might find you in here,” she said softly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with all of this.”
I shrugged. “What choice do we have?” In my mind, the question had no answer.
“Lex, we always have a choice—no matter what,” my mother replied, sitting down on the bed next to me. “I guess I just want to know that you think I’m doing the right thing by going forward with this. I want to do something that you can be proud of.”
Instantly, my eyes brimmed with tears. “Mom, I’ve always been proud of you—even when you think I wasn’t or shouldn’t have been. You always did the best you could.”
She pulled me in close to her. “It means a lot to hear you say that. You’re the only person in the world I need to hear that from.”
Another soft knock at the door interrupted us. My mother released me, wiping tears from her face. It was Quin.
“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s almost time,” he said matter-of-factly.
My mother nodded, giving me one last squeeze before she stood and left the room.
Quin lingered in the doorway, one foot in, one foot out, contemplating his next move. Finally, bringing both feet inside, he closed the door behind him and walked toward me.
“Lex,” he began, his voice hinted at so many emotions—I felt them all.
“You don’t have to say anything, Quin. I know.”
“No, you don’t know,” he said, sitting next to me, taking both of my hands in his. Half-smiling at me, he added, “Even if you do know, let me tell you anyway.”
“Okay.”
He took an audible breath. “I want to tell you that, since I met you, my whole life has … well, it’s started making sense again. It hasn’t made sense for a long time.” He paused. All that was past seemed to travel through his eyes. “I’m so scared right now that something could happen to you, but in a strange way, that makes me glad. It’s good to have something to lose.”
I squeezed his hands tightly. “You know, you’re not the only one with something to lose. You are …” All words seemed flat and insufficient, but I selected one anyway. “You’re special to me.” Special? Not even close.
He nodded and leaned toward me, pressing his forehead to mine. “Let’s talk about something else,” he whispered.
“Alright.” I hoped he would kiss me, his lips always a welcome distraction, but he continued speaking.
“When this is all over, there’s this thing I need to do. I can’t do it without you. Will you promise me something?” He addressed me quietly, his face serious. I listened with intention, keeping my eyes on his.
“I promise.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
DREAD
IT TOOK OVER AN HOUR to maneuver our small dinghy into view of Alcatraz. The water was rough, spitting cold spray at us, jostling us left and right. I felt queasy, taking deep breaths of the salt air until the churning in my stomach passed. Halfway through, we cut the engine and rowed toward the shore.
Quin had positioned us on the south side of the island, completely opposite the lab, near the Agave Trail. According to Quin, the Guardian Force rarely used this part of the island. We would wait here, unnoticed, until the lighthouse flashed its beacon three times, signaling a change in watch. Carrie and her team would meet us at our second position, just behind the building marked Model Industries on the map. Quin had scratched through the name, his red pen spelling out Lab/Research Facility.
Just before we reached the shore, Quin jumped from the boat, the frigid water lapping around his knees. He towed us in and anchored us to a rusty metal stake driven between the rocks. Apparently we weren’t the first boat to visit this side of the island. We pulled a tarp over us, leaving a small opening to stay in view of the beacon.
“Is everyone okay?” Quin looked only at me as he spoke.
I nodded. Though his eyes comforted me, I wished to be somewhere, anywhere, else.
“How long do we wait?” my mother asked.
Quin consulted his watch. “The change in guard should happen around 5 a.m., a little less than an hour from now.”
From behind me, I heard Edison’s voice. He made a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “So how does it feel, McAllister? This is quite a homecoming.”
Quin laughed nervously. “I could ask you the same, Van Sant.”
“Well, I never thought I’d see this place again,” Elana said. Her voice quivered noticeably.
I patted her arm, trying to comfort us both.
No one else spoke. We sat quietly, listening to the waves break on the rocks. It was almost peaceful. Almost.
Just as Quin predicted, at exactly 5 a.m., the lighthouse beacon flashed three times, illuminating the sky with an eerie yellow glow. Quin and Edison pushed us away from the rocks and rowed to the west. As the black waves roiled around us, I looked toward the city. A few lights flickered back at me in response. Their distant twinkling made me feel lonely and disconnected, conjuring a feeling that I had lost something essential without even realizing it yet. Overwhelmed with melancholy, I turned away.
As we passed the lighthouse, advancing to our second position, my stomach flip-flopped. There was no boat awaiting us, no Carrie, no Resilire.
“Where are they?” Edison gave a worried voice to my observation.
I looked to my mother. She shrugged helplessly. “I told them 5 a.m.,” she insisted, her voice wavering.
“Don’t panic,” Quin soothed her. “I’m sur
e they’ll be here.”
We anchored our boat and waited.
“Look,” Elana directed, pointing out into the darkness. In view, but still a mile or so away, I spotted another boat. Trailing behind it, I saw another smaller raft with several large containers inside it.
As they drew closer, Max waved to us. Carrie sat next to him, her face exasperated, nearly frantic. Cason Caruso and Hiro Chen were on the boat as well, along with several armed men I didn’t recognize. Seeing Cason, I was alarmed, but I momentarily withheld my suspicions.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Max whispered, punching Quin on the arm as we drew their dinghy alongside ours.
I edged my way over toward Max, nearly losing my balance in the wobbling boat. Quin grabbed my arms to steady me.
“Careful,” Quin said gently, holding me to him a little longer than was necessary. I saw Max watching us closely, reading the signs.
As we embraced, with an ear-to-ear grin, Max reminded me, “I told you he would make it right.”
I nodded, smiling back at him.
“What happened? Did you oversleep?” Quin teased Max, then addressed Carrie with seriousness. “Why are you late?”
Carrie took a deep, frustrated breath and considered Cason with disdain. “He insisted on coming.”
“I am a part of the Council … remember? I have every right to be here.” Cason glared at Carrie. Judging by their mutual disgust, I imagined this argument had been going on for hours.
“We don’t trust you,” Max countered. “You’re working with Augustus.”
“Even if that was true, you obviously need me … if this is the team you’ve assembled to take down Ryker,” Cason said, clearing his throat, as he turned toward my mother. He eyed us with condescension. “I’m confused,” he asked her. “Are you the psychiatrist or the crazy one?”
His arrogance infuriated me. I wanted to punch his face just to witness his surprise.
“Hey,” Quin cautioned him, “this is the team. We don’t have time to argue. You’re either with us or you’re not.”