The Survivor

by Dylan Steel

  A single tear escaped as she stared back at him with loathing.

  “Don’t cry, darlin’,” he crooned. “I was just starting to enjoy your spirit.”

  “I’d be glad to show you more of it,” she choked out, “in a fair fight.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you life’s not fair?”

  “Dutch!”

  The smile on Dutch’s face disappeared abruptly, twisting into a frown. He turned toward the alley’s entrance where a hooded figure stood silhouetted against the growing darkness of the evening.

  “What?” Dutch snapped. Sage winced as his fingers dug deeper into her chin. She held her breath, not knowing what to think of this new development—what this man’s appearance meant for her and Everett.

  “I need you elsewhere tonight.”

  “In a minute,” Dutch snarled. “The gents and I just—”

  “This is not a discussion,” the figure said in a menacing voice.

  Uncertainty flickered over Dutch’s face for a moment.

  “Now, Dutch.”

  Sage’s face throbbed as Dutch’s hand dropped to his side. He nodded to his companions, and they obeyed his silent order, immediately making their way to the end of the alley where the figure stood waiting.

  “I hope we meet again soon, darlin’,” Dutch whispered as he released her.

  Without his support, Sage’s legs collapsed underneath her. She slid to the ground, reaching out a hand for Everett while keeping an eye on the men retreating. Her fingers brushed against his sticky skin, eliciting an anguished moan that set her heart pounding even faster. Deep hatred burned in her chest.

  In that moment, a large part of her wanted nothing more than to strip as many Chances from Dutch as she could, but she knew he was unstable enough to turn around, to come at her again in a violent rage. And she couldn’t afford to blindly put her trust in whatever authority the mysterious figure seemed to have over him. Dutch didn’t seem the type to care much for others’ authority.

  “Everett,” she whispered, still watching the men. He let out another groan of pain, but she didn’t allow herself to look down at him until the last one filed out of the alley, leaving them completely alone.

  “Oh, Ev—” Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t need daylight to see that he was messed up. Bad. A slick coat of blood covered his entire body, soaking through his clothes.

  “C’mon.” She hooked her arms beneath his, pulling gingerly, cringing as he sucked in sharply. “We have to go before they decide to come back.”

  Everett swayed unsteadily on his feet, stumbling more than walking. Sage wrapped her arms around his torso, supporting him as best she could as they staggered in step together. It was incredibly awkward and painful for both of them, but at least they were moving.

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered.

  17. SEEING RED

  A blinking light caught Sage’s eye. It was coming from the corner of the tech table beside hers, so she wasn’t the one being summoned this time. Her stomach flipped in anticipation. She was about to have the room all to herself.

  “Of course. Guess I’m up.” The tech beside Sage stood, sighing. “Probably just something that needs to charge. Feel like making a bet on it?”

  “Mmm, no thanks. I don’t like my odds,” she said jokingly, shooting him a half-hearted grin.

  Lack-of-charge was the diagnosis at least nine out of ten times. If the officers ever figured out how to put their toys away, there wouldn’t be much of a need for techs anymore. That was one of the reasons techs didn’t try to explain to the officers how they were almost always able to fix things so quickly.

  “Can’t blame you,” the other tech admitted. “It’s not really a fair bet.” He shrugged on a jacket and waved behind him as he walked through the door.

  Sage turned her attention back to the table immediately. Its glow illuminated her face as her hands swept through images. This was the first time all day that she’d been alone in the room, and she wasn’t going to waste a second pulling up the Chance-colored map overlay.

  A hollow, gnawing sensation overtook her, settling deep in her stomach. She chewed on her lip as she tried to take a mental inventory once more of how many Chances had been stripped from her last night. If the pain was any indication, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. She was grateful just to be sitting there wondering anything at all. There was no doubt in her mind that they’d both come close to losing all their Chances. But—other than a deep-seated dread and the fresh memory of last night’s agony—there was no real way to tell for sure if that was true.

  The Quorum had decided a long time ago that citizens shouldn’t be told their actual number of Chances. They found it created too much anxiety among the population—not to mention that too much self-awareness impeded what the Quorum deemed the more appropriate motivations like loyalty and patriotism and integrity. If people knew how many Chances they had left, they might behave better—or even worse, knowing they could get away with more. Either way, when a person altered their behavior based on their number of remaining Chances, it was more than a little frowned upon. The Quorum considered it a degradation of the integrity of the System of Worth.

  That was the official reason, at least. Sage figured it was just another easy means of control. If they kept everyone just scared enough, no one would dare oppose them. It’d been working pretty well so far.

  The colorful map was the only way Sage knew of to estimate how many Chances either one of them had left—and she wasn’t technically supposed to even know that much.

  She pulled up a view of their apartment, checking on Everett first. It was easy to find him since he was still resting. Sleeping, hopefully. He’d taken much more of a beating during the attack, and she guessed it would take at least a week of recovery before he could return to work. After fending off a gang of miscreants, that didn’t seem like it should be too big of a deal, but in reality, neither one of them was sure how he’d be able to explain it. Recent graduates weren’t often afforded that much time off.

  Her hope was that it wouldn’t even come up—that maybe they just wouldn’t notice at all. After all, the Cabinet had been operating with a bit of a skeleton crew anyway since the Lawless attack. The building was still undergoing major repairs and didn’t have enough office space for everyone. It wasn’t too much of a stretch.

  Sage’s face fell. There, sitting on their bed, was a red dot. She’d checked once before, and he’d been bright orange, almost yellow. Her stomach wrenched painfully as she remembered her own contribution to the color change. She’d actually stripped one of his Chances. What if they’d taken just one or two more of his Chances last night, and that had been enough to—

  Her lip quivered, but she choked down her guilt and swept her hands through the air again, pulling up a closeup view of the Peace. She wasn’t looking forward to giving Everett the bad news when she got home, but she had to know her own prognosis too. Zooming through the rooms, she focused on her floor, then the tech room, then her desk, then—her.

  A gasp of air left her chest. She could barely breathe, and she couldn’t hear anything over the loud drumming of her heart in her ears.

  No, not her. It couldn’t be her.

  She knew she’d been in excruciating pain last night, but this—this couldn’t be right.

  She stood up, looking around the room in desperation, hoping she was looking at someone else’s dot. But she was completely alone.

  Just after graduation, her dot had been yellow. Now, it wasn’t yellow—or orange. It almost wasn’t even red. She—or rather, her dot—was a deep burgundy color now. Not quite red, not yet black.

  She was nearly out of Chances.

  18. DOSED

  “Sorry, hon, your results are negative again.” The nurse looked Sage up and down sympathetically.

  “That’s ok. I mean, I still have a little time, right?” Sage said, shifting in her seat. The plastic robe crinkled loudly under her thighs.
<
br />   The nurse’s eyebrow shot up. “Technically. But we’re going to have to start a more aggressive round of interventions this week.” She walked to the cabinet, pulling out another vial. “This will give you a better chance of conceiving this month. Gotta give nature a helping hand,” she added in a singsong voice.

  Sage stiffened, instinctively leaning away. “Well, then why haven’t I been getting that the whole time?”

  “Oh, hon,” the nurse said kindly, shaking her head, “we don’t use this unless we have to. This particular fertility aid can have a dramatic effect.”

  “Side effects?” Sage bit her lip, worried now. It was bad enough that the fertility drugs usually made her nauseous. She didn’t even want to think about what this injection might do to her.

  “They’re not usually too bad.” The nurse tried to suppress a grin. “You may not even realize when it takes effect.” She swiped a cool disinfecting pad over Sage’s arm and then jabbed a needle under her skin. “But don’t worry, hon, this is incredibly effective. More than the other stuff, if you want my opinion. I’m sure you’ll be pregnant in no time.”

  The nurse finished up quickly, putting her supplies away as she continued giving Sage instructions.

  “Now, you should be paying particular attention to your diet. Eating well helps. You should also minimize stress and other distractions for the next few weeks. And you’ll need to come back here every two days at the same time for the next few weeks until you—”

  “Every two days? What for?”

  “For this injection, hon.” The nurse gave her a look that said it should have been obvious.

  “Isn’t there some kind of timed release option?”

  “This one doesn’t work like that, hon. Besides, it’s already sort of a delayed release. Trust me.” Her lips twisted into a sort of knowing grin, like she was keeping a juicy secret all to herself. “I think you’ll find that your body would overload on a dose any bigger than this.”

  “Oh.” Sage’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  “Aw, hon, it’s not so bad. I promise. And we’ll stop the injections once you’re pregnant. Plus, you’ll find out sooner this way since we’ll be testing you at each visit.” She beamed with excitement.

  “Yeah,” Sage said, attempting enthusiasm and failing miserably. She stared off into the distance, brows furrowing pensively. “Do I still need to come in weekly too? That’s, like, three days in a row next week.”

  The nurse wrinkled her nose apologetically. “Yes, sorry, hon. I know it sounds like a lot—”

  “It is a lot.”

  “Well, this is just the way things have to be when you’re a bit of a late bloomer.” The nurse shrugged. “It’s for your own good.” She glanced down at her databook, checking the time. “Ah, now you’d best be going. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

  Sage cocked her head. That was a strange thing to say. “I actually have today off,” she corrected the nurse.

  “Ah, perfect.” The nurse pursed her lips, fighting back another smile. Sage was starting to find her mannerisms pretty irritating. “Well, then, by all means, don’t let me keep you from the rest of your day. I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

  There was that annoying almost-smile again.

  “Thanks,” Sage managed, relieved when the nurse finally left the room.

  As soon as her clothes were delivered, she yanked them on hurriedly and headed straight for the door, hoping to avoid running into the odd nurse again before she could leave the clinic.

  ***

  Sage tiptoed into the apartment, closing the door behind her as softly as she could.

  “You don’t have to be quiet. I’m up,” Everett called from the bedroom.

  “Oh.” She cringed. “I was hoping you’d still be sleeping.”

  “Nah.” He hobbled into the living room, still favoring his left side. “I know you’d like it if I did, but I can’t actually sleep all day.”

  “You need to rest,” Sage said pointedly, shooting him a look of disapproval.

  “And I am.” He yawned, then winced as he realized he’d opened his mouth too wide. “You wouldn’t think this would be such a big deal after surviving a bombing, huh?”

  “Well, sure. Being beaten half to death is totally different. Way easier to recover from.” She rolled her eyes.

  Everett grinned. “Well, it would be if there were a med kit for it.”

  “Like for smoke inhalation?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mmhmm.” She crossed her arms, unimpressed with his attempt at banter.

  “I’ll be fine. Really.” He gestured at himself. “I’m already feeling a lot better. I think I’ll go to work tomorrow.”

  Sage’s eyebrow shot up as she went to retrieve a glass from the kitchen. “Oh, yeah? So everyone can ask you how that happened?” she asked, nodding toward the bruises on his throat. “If they think you’re getting into fights, they might decide to—”

  “People can think whatever they want,” he mumbled, rubbing his neck self-consciously as he joined her. He leaned against the counter. “And if they ask, I’ll tell them the truth. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  Her eyes widened as she flicked on the water. “Other than what you were saying just before Dutch showed up,” she muttered, counting on the noise to disguise her vague words from Eprah’s listening ears.

  “I doubt they heard much.” He lifted his shoulders in exasperation and then winced at the motion. “I can’t exactly afford to take any more time off. It’s already been three days.”

  “But you’ve only missed one actual day of work,” she countered.

  “Yeah, and that’s my max without getting into real trouble. And even that might bother someone enough to…” he trailed off uneasily. “I just don’t want to give anyone a reason to hold a grudge. And that could happen pretty easily if they suddenly have to start picking up my slack. Besides, we can’t really afford for me not to be working right now, especially since they’ve cut my hours during the construction.”

  “It’s not about credits—I mean, it matters, but…” Sage hesitated. “I know I told you your Chances were bad, but you’re not—you’re still red. Mine was darker than yours, and I’m still walking around.” She tried to smile, but a fresh swell of guilt rose inside her. He’d definitely have at least another spare Chance if she hadn’t stripped one of them from him a month ago.

  “So are you trying to convince me to go back to work or not to go back to work?”

  “Not.” She frowned, rubbing her forehead. “I think. I’m just saying you can probably afford one annoyed coworker more than having your entire department suspicious of your extracurricular activities. You know fighting’s illegal. They might not all give you a chance to explain before they—” she stopped, biting a worried lip. “It might be better to miss a few more days.”

  “A few more days won’t hide everything, but it might earn me more than one annoyed coworker. I think I’ll be lucky if I stop limping in a week.” He sighed, setting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I can’t stay in our apartment forever.”

  “Everett,” she breathed, her pulse quickening at his touch, “I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

  “I’ve gotta live, remember?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he lowered his voice and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Not just survive.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sage said, suddenly completely overwhelmed by the dizzying feeling of his breath against her skin and the nearness of his perfect lips and the way his shirt pulled tight across his pecs.

  Her eyes flitted to his outstretched arm—the one still resting on her shoulder. She sucked in a sharp breath. Eprah’s name. Had his arms always been that huge?

  He drew back, dropping his arm as he took a sip of water, apparently unaware of the effect his touch had had on her.

  Sage swayed a little on her feet. She furrowed her brow, trying to make
herself focus again. This wasn’t the first time that she’d noticed Everett had grown more attractive, but it wasn’t like her to be this distracted by him.

  “But you have to survive in order to live,” she pointed out, gripping the counter for support. Maybe she just needed to eat something to settle her system after her visit to the clinic. That was probably all it was. Easy to fix.

  She grabbed a bag of dehydrated fruit and poured it into a bowl. Flicking on the water, she hurriedly rehydrated them and grabbed a spoon, shoveling berries into her mouth as fast as she could.

  Everett raised an eyebrow. “And apparently, you have to eat in order to survive?”

  “Fertility clinic,” she managed between frantic bites.

  His forehead wrinkled for a moment and then relaxed as he nodded in understanding. She’d mentioned it to him before, how the injections made her queasy.

  After the first few bites, she realized she hadn’t added enough water. The sharp sides of a strawberry scraped painfully against the inside of her throat as she swallowed hard. His dark eyes watched her appraisingly.

  She stared back at him. One of the bruises on the center of his chin made it look like he had a slight dimple. It made him look older, even more handsome than before. Blushing, she dropped her eyes back to her bowl and held it back under the water.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “That it’s affecting you so much.”

  “W-what?” Sage choked, nearly spitting out a mouthful of fruit. She coughed as she grabbed a glass of water, trying to clear her throat.

  “The injections, I mean.” He looked at her with concern.

  “Right. Probably just the extra one they gave me. You know, since they think we’re having trouble,” she said, quickly polishing off the rest of her bowl. She wasn’t about to tell him that her impulsive need for food had little to do with her normal post-injection side effects and much more to do with quenching her sudden, unexpected hunger for him.

  “They gave you an extra injection?”