We shove Riley into the van as Shane practically carries Luka out of the post. Shane leads him to my open arms, and once again Sarah and I use all our strength to plop him into the van. Shane quickly revives Justin and helps him into the van.
Shane trots to the driver’s side and hops in. I sit with Luka.
Shane peels the van out of the post, the tires spinning helplessly for a few seconds catching some loose gravel. “We’ll drive for a while and then dump the truck somewhere,” he says. “We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”
“There’s no way they can walk that far,” I say.
Luka and Riley can barely stand, let alone walk.
“It isn’t safe to drive this van all the way to the pick-up point,” Shane says.
I shut my mouth, knowing it’s no use arguing with him.
Luka moans and leans his head toward me.
“You can’t stand to be without me, can you?” he mutters. His bloodied hand reaches out for mine. I laugh and try my best to comfort him. Luka leans his head on my shoulder, his breathing is short and shallow. I close my eyes in thankful reverence that we made it out alive, pretending not to notice the hardened expression on Shane’s face as he watches us in the rear-view mirror.
Chapter 33
I’m awake, but my eyes are still closed. I feel an arm draped across my body. Maybe I’m still sleeping, stuck in a dream that refuses to end.
No.
Fluttering my eyes open, all I can see is the bottom of the top bunk. Luka woke from his sleep several times, screaming and muttering incomprehensible things. After the third time, he pleaded with me to stay in the bed with him. After that, he didn’t wake anymore. His face is still a mess. We were all so exhausted by the time we returned to the airport that we collapsed silently in our beds.
I try to wiggle out of Luka’s grasp, but he wakes in the process.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Just have to go to the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”
But before I can even the finish the words, his eyes are closed, and his breathing is rhythmic. I tip-toe for the bathroom down the hall. No one else is up this early, and I’m grateful to have a few minutes to myself.
As I wash my hands, I give myself a once-over in the mirror. The dark circles around my eyes have gotten worse, but the swelling is gone. I splash water on my face, my freshened eyes noticing the blood splattered on my shirt. I shudder, wondering who it belongs to.
I head back to the room to check on Luka before heading to the mess hall, but a surprise meets me in the hallway. Luka is up and leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that looks like he’s hugging himself.
“What are you doing out of bed already?” I ask.
“I wanted to find you,” he says. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” He looks lost, his voice scratchy and weak.
“Let me help you back into bed.”
He refuses and insists that he won’t be able to get back to sleep. I lead him to the bathroom where I can clean the dried blood from his face.
He leans patiently against the sink. “A shower would be nice right about now.”
I lean back and swipe back the curtain to one of the showers. The water sputters out and a few cold drops hit my skin.
Luka struggles to lift his arms above his head, his muscles sore from being bound so long.
“Let me help you,” I say. I slip the shirt up and over his head as quickly as possible as he lets out a quiet, painful moan. I throw it into the trash, since there is no way to salvage it from all the blood and rips in the material.
As I dab a cut over Luka’s eye, he grabs my arm and pulls it down away from his face. His swollen eyes desperately seek mine.
“Your eyes,” he says. “They’re so blue.”
I pause a moment before continuing to clean him up. I smile demurely. “You don’t like them? I thought…” But I stop myself before it’s too late and thank goodness.
The one thing I remember before the Dust took over my body was telling Justin to give me blue eyes like Marissa. Now, here I stand across from Luka, looking at him with eyes that probably remind him of his dead fiancée.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, still holding on to my hand. “And you shouldn’t’ve come after me.”
“You would have done the same for me.”
He chuckles and lets my hand go. “Don’t be too sure.” His smile still manages to light up his face. He wraps both arms around my waist and pulls me close to him, burying his face into my neck, inhaling my skin.
“I was worried sick,” he says, his voice muffled.
I wrap my arms around his neck, making sure not to cause him any more pain. I lay my head across the tattoo running across his collarbone. His necklace jingles near my ear.
“I know,” I say. “Me, too.
Luka sighs, but doesn’t respond. It takes him a few seconds to recompose himself; his voice is heavy when he speaks. “They didn’t get any information out of us. They tried but…”
We sway in an embrace, and my eyes become thick with tears. I take a deep breath as I try to blow out the emotion through a long exhale, but the tears fall anyway.
Luka pulls me back as I swipe at my face.
“Hey,” he purrs. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
I shake my head, and he pulls me into another hug. His words do little to comfort me, everything I’ve tried to hold back comes pouring out all at once. I heave in silent sobs into his chest, feeling Luka press me in close to him. It seems so selfish of me. He’s comforting me after everything he’s been through these last few days. But I can’t stop myself. I’m like a tree that has been hacked away at with an axe, every cut going deeper. Eventually, I will fall.
Luka hushes me like a crying infant, his lips grazing at my neck. His kiss makes his way to my ear, the humming of his voice sending goosebumps down my arms. He slowly makes his way to my cheek, planting a kiss on the trail of a tear down my jawline.
He hovers close to my mouth. We breathe into each other, our exhales meeting in the middle of the slight space between us. He kisses me, and I close my eyes, knowing I’m doing nothing to stop him. How could I? His lips pressed on mine feel familiar, and I revel in the comfort it gives me. The running shower behind us creates a cacophony of water. We break from the kiss, my eyes still wet with lingering tears. Luka looks over to the bathroom door, and I jump back, startled to see Shane standing at the threshold.
* * * *
I sit next to Sarah in the mess hall, Luka not far behind me. Ruby’s father graciously gave Luka a clean change of clothes. He also told me where I could find the stash of medical supplies hidden in the same building where LaRoux’s office is. I can’t help but think Ellen has something to do with that.
I head toward the kitchen to see what the offerings are for breakfast. The resident cook, Vern, winks at me as he hands me a plate of biscuits and what looks like sausage. I haven’t seen a pig within a hundred miles from here, and hope that it’s just another item that’s fallen off an Official delivery truck. He only hands me one plate, but I know not to ask for a second.
I manage to find a couple of bottles of water and then head back to the table. I scan the room for Shane, but he’s made himself scarce. By the look on his face when he walked into the bathroom this morning, I’m in for a real treat when I do see him. Riley still hasn’t made it out of bed. After what he’s been through, I don’t blame him.
I slide into my chair at the table and move the plate of food between Luka and me. I offer some to Sarah, but she refuses.
Luka inhales his half of the food, and I pretend to be full so he can eat my half as well. He hesitates, but practically licks the plate when he’s finished. There’s no telling how long it’s been since he’s eaten.
“What is this place?” he asks.
This time in the morning the mess hall is brimming with people getting in a warm meal while it’s still available.
“There’s one more thing,” I say. “The ICCs. They’re making everyone get one. They’re going to start implanting them at the end of the week.”
Luka shakes his head. “They’re trying to flush us out. With those chips in everybody’s arm they’ll be able to track every move anyone makes.”
“What do we do?” Sarah asks.
I open my mouth to speak, but Luka beats me to it. “There’s nothing we can do…not about that.”
I push the empty plate away, afraid I might fling it across the room. “We need to get in contact with Margaret and Ellen to see if they’ve made any progress with that Official. No chance you still have that phone Riley swiped?”
Luka scoffs. “No, it’s the first thing the Pigeons took when they went through my bag.”
Great.
“We need to talk to LaRoux,” I say.
Luka and I head to LaRoux’s office. I really wish Shane wasn’t playing hide and seek, since I’ll just have to waste time explaining everything to him again later. We cross the tarmac when I come to an abrupt stop.
Across the way, Scratch has returned with two people, both who I haven’t seen here before. It’s a young man and woman, probably my age. The man and Scratch pull some belongings out of the bed of the truck, and it looks like Airport City has just gained two more residents. The girl has dark brown hair and is wearing a tight-fitting top and jeans that look two inches too short for her tall frame. The man has dark, curly hair and a scruffy beard. He’s scrawny with long arms and legs. They look ordinary enough except for one interesting characteristic…the girl’s slightly swollen belly.
Chapter 34
We walk in on LaRoux gathering some of her things in her office. Her eyes glance out to the tarmac through the window behind her.
“Going somewhere?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “There are a few things in town I have to pick up.”
Luka and I stand in a silent stare, waiting for her to mention something about the new arrival on the tarmac. LaRoux ignores us at first, but then lets out a heavy sigh.
“Something I can help you guys with?”
I fold my arms across my chest. I don’t appreciate her beating around the bush. I’ve told her just about everything I know about what’s going on with the Officials. The more I stay here, the more I think she’s not letting on to all that she knows. But you can’t exactly dance around the subject of a random pregnant woman in a place where infertility is rampant.
“We have to know everything that’s going on,” I say. “Or what’s the point?”
LaRoux looks at each of us in the eye for a few seconds before opening her mouth. “There are more of them…all over the Wards.” She doesn’t have to be specific for us to know what she is talking about. “I’m leaving today to help collect them and bring them here.”
Luka clears his throat. “Well, how many are there?”
LaRoux shrugs. “Don’t know exactly. The news is passed along until it reaches here. We’ve got two more in Three that we need to bring here before the Officials find out and get there first.”
Just as LaRoux finishes her words, Shane lightly taps on the doorframe. He looks at everyone in the room, except me.
“He’s ready when you are,” he says.
LaRoux gathers the rest of her things and stuffs them into a small bag. For a day trip, she sure seems to be packing heavy.
“How can we get a hold of Margaret and Ellen?” I ask. “Do they know that you’re here?”
“They know, although I haven’t spoken to them in a few weeks. If we don’t hear from them soon, then I would suspect the worst. I wouldn’t put it past the Officials to kill everything in their way. They’re getting close…too close. My men have seen Pigeons doing random pick-ups along all the Wards. It will only be a matter of time before they know there’re more pregnancies. No one is safe, and the more people we can keep here, the better and stronger we’ll be.”
“But this is an airport…not a hospital,” Luka says. “How are all these babies going to be delivered?”
LaRoux leans against the wall behind her. “What is the other option? These babies will be born whether they’re here or not. If the mothers are left on their own, there is no doubt they will be collected by the Officials.”
I look to Luka. “We need to bring Netty and Catherine here.” The hesitation over this decision has been erased.
There is a long pause before LaRoux speaks up. “I’ll let you discuss that amongst yourselves. I should be back tomorrow.” She gives us a nod and starts to make her way out the door.
The three of us are scattered around the office, each of us with a questioning haze over our eyes.
I break the long silence. “Shane, do you know if anyone’s been reaped from Eight?”.
“No,” he says. “And that’s not what they call it.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“It’s my job to know.”
“How does it work for them?” Luka says.
“The matches are arranged by the families.”
“No reaping?” I say.
“No breeding rooms?” Luka says.
Shane hesitate but says, “None of it. Even if you have a genetic match, you’re not obligated to follow through. It’s all paperwork. Most of the women who even have babies to term don’t survive the birth. No one in Eight wants to risk it.”
“So, they can steal someone else’s baby?” I say. It’s almost impossible for me to comprehend. And then I think about how lucky it was for Netty to survive Catherine’s birth.
His eyes shoot to mine very briefly; the look he gives me is so cold it sends shivers down my spine.
Luka’s lost in some thought, shaking his head mindlessly back and forth. “They need our DNA, and that’s it. They want to repopulate but use women from the outer Wards to do it.”
Shane moves from the doorway and has taken the free chair. Luka inches closer to me as I lean against LaRoux’s desk.
“I think we should leave for my uncle’s house tonight,” I say. I’m ready to wrap this conversation up.
Luka and Shane are battling it out in some kind of unspoken war of words. They are both closing in on me, seeing who can get the closest. I’m starting to get that suffocating feeling again.
I move from the large space between them and walk to the other side of the desk. I look out the window to the tarmac. There are a few old cars parked in the empty lot across from the bunks, but none of them are big enough to hold us all once we get to Uncle Will’s. My eyes stretch across the area beyond the parking lot to the edge of the barbed wire fence where there sits a large box truck, the words GOURMET written in large black letters across the side. Part of the truck looks rusted, but from here it looks like the tires are still intact.
“I wonder if that truck still runs,” I say.
Shane and Luka join me by the window.
“That one?” Shane says. “Looks like a catering truck they used to load the food into the airplanes. I’ve never seen anyone actually drive it…that thing’s like ten years old.”
“Well, it’s big enough to hold everyone,” I say. “Let’s go check it out.” I turn to leave the room, but not before doing an awkward shuffle between two hovering bodies.
* * * *
I finally convinced Luka to get some rest before we leave on yet another midnight adventure. He wouldn’t fall asleep unless I lay with him, but there was no way I was going to get any rest. As soon as his eyelids closed and his breathing turned rhythmic, I gently peeled away his arm and crawled out of the bed.
Outside, dark clouds loom ominously around the edges of the mountaintop, swallowing the daylight. A few kids whiz by me in a game of tag, and I notice Sarah sitting on the picnic table mid-conversation with Ruby. I walk a little farther to c
heck on how Milton is doing with the catering truck.
The hood of the truck is propped open, and Milton and Shane hover over the engine. Tools are scattered on the ground, and they’re deep in conversation about things I don’t understand. Neither one of them notice me approaching.
Shane sees me first but doesn’t say anything. Milton goes around to the driver’s side and hops into the seat. He turns the key, and the engine clicks a few times but doesn’t turn over.
“Don’t think I can get it to run,” he says, getting out. “But I’ll keep trying.” He smiles warmly at me, and I smile back to be polite.
Milton’s the only one in Airport City who knows anything about cars. His white hair grows in puffs around his balding head, and he has thick wrinkles creasing his leathery skin. He clangs a few more tools around the engine, his calloused hands and fingernails smudged with grease.
I sit and watch as Shane continues to ignore me. I wonder how long he’s going to play this game. He stares at me for a few seconds before telling Milton he’ll just be a few minutes. Milton nods his head and continues to tinker with the engine.
Shane stomps toward me, his body stiff and off-putting. Despite the cooler weather, he’s wearing a sleeveless white undershirt, which along with his pants, is smeared with grease. He walks past me, offering a hardened expression. I’m stuck in place, not completely believing he would totally disregard me.
“Hey!” I do my best not to chase after him, but his quick pace makes it impossible.
He turns, hands planted on his hips.
“I’m getting tired of this game,” I say. “You either want to talk about why you’re giving me the silent treatment or not.”
“Fine,” he says. He closes the space between us. With each step, the tension thickens. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”
The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1) Page 16
