Emerge

by Heather Sunseri

I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly at the sound of her words. I’d loved this beautiful girl since I was a young boy, and now she was a woman and here in my arms. Even if it was only for one night, it was a gift. I was about to lean in and kiss her, when she continued speaking.

  “I promised God that I would let you go, and I would leave the city, if He would save you from Bad Sam.”

  “You didn’t have to leave, though. Turns out I’m immune.” I offered her a smile, attempting to lighten the mood a little.

  “Maybe you’re immune because of my promise.”

  I didn’t believe that, but it was silly to question it now. I touched her hair and moved it off of her forehead. “You look so different from what I remember, but your eyes… now that I’m truly seeing them… they’re the same. You are beautiful.” I tapped her nose playfully.

  She immediately looked down.

  “Don’t look away.”

  After a few seconds passed, she raised her eyes again, peering through a veil of dark eyelashes. “You look almost exactly like I pictured you would. Well, except for a few extra whiskers,” she laughed. “I’ve dreamt of seeing you again.” A playful grin spread across her face, reaching all the way to her eyes. “Maybe not quite like this, but…”

  “But you’ll take it?” I laughed. I slid my hand behind her neck, letting my eyes drift toward her lips.

  Her smile faded. “West—”

  I leaned in and cut off her protest with a gentle kiss. She didn’t resist. Her lips were soft and cool to the touch. I knew I should pull back, but I simply couldn’t. As I deepened the kiss, her lips warmed. She snaked her arm around my back, and I did the same, pressing her body closer to mine. Her feet hooked around my calves, our legs intertwining and getting tangled.

  When we broke the kiss, I refused to let her turn away. We lay in silence for a while after. Many unsaid thoughts lingered between us—thoughts that threatened to change everything all over again.

  The sounds of leaves rustling in the wind and tree limbs clacking together were the only things we heard for a while. Then, eventually, Cricket’s eyes closed, her breathing slowed, and her body relaxed. Tension seemed to fall away as she fell into a deep sleep in my arms.

  I was terrified to fall asleep—terrified I would wake back up, and this dream would be over.

  chapter twenty-one

  Cricket

  The familiar sound of the incinerator woke me sometime in the middle of the night. I was completely disoriented. The warmth of West’s arms around me comforted me at first, but then I remembered why I was facing him, and the feel of his lips on mine. The claustrophobic effects of being confined in a tight space soon crept in, and the sound of the incinerator, though far away, thundered inside my head.

  I slowly eased out of West’s arms, hoping not to wake him. He was finally warm, and I was certain he hadn’t slept much since he’d left New Caelum.

  I quickly dressed and, after stuffing new warmers inside my boots, slipped out of the tent and hiked over to the lookout to stare down into New Caelum. The activity at the incinerator was no mystery to me tonight, though. I knew exactly what the people in hazmat suits needed to rid New Caelum of—the diseased bodies of Garrett and his fleece-jacketed partner.

  I lowered my gaze to the ground. I didn’t even know Fleece Jacket’s name. Would the people inside even tell the two boys’ families what had happened? Or were they simply human sacrifices to whatever New Caelum was trying to do?

  I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of our little campsite, making sure West hadn’t awoken. The wind had died down finally, but it had brought much colder temperatures than we’d had in recent weeks.

  As I watched the activity around New Caelum, I thought about each time they had run the incinerator in the middle of the night. The first time was three months ago, and I’d heard it three times in one week. Two weeks later, I’d heard it three more times. After that, I was so paranoid that I camped closer to New Caelum each night, sometimes allowing Dax, Dylan, and Nina to come with me. Dylan and Nina thought I just needed time in the great outdoors, but Dax knew I was building conspiracy theories surrounding anything the city did. He just didn’t know why.

  And he knew me well enough not to press, or I would have shut him out.

  Once I moved closer to the city, the incinerator stopped for a while. In fact, it didn’t run again for three weeks. Then it began to run on exactly one night every other week, almost always on a Thursday or Friday.

  Though the frequency with which the incinerator was run had changed, it followed another predictable pattern. It soon became my favorite obsession to predict the incinerator’s activity? What night would it run? What time of night? For how long did it run each time?

  Even now, as I parsed through the statistics I’d gathered, it continued to nag at me, until it hit me—

  I sat up, staring straight ahead. “They’re conducting a scientific experiment,” I said to absolutely no one. “They’re running a controlled experiment, complete with exact, identified parameters.”

  I climbed off my tree stump and ran over to the campsite. I carefully unzipped the tent, and crawled in, trying to be as quiet as possible. But when I got there, I couldn’t bring myself to wake West. I just sat there and stared at his face, the only part of him that stuck out of the sleeping bag, and I couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, I was taken back to when we were kids. I couldn’t see much of his face, which was partially covered, and it reminded me of how he slept with a pillow over his head when we were kids. On the first night I slept inside New Caelum all those years ago, Willow, West, and I camped out on the floor in the president’s room. We were all a little scared, so West and Willow’s mom let us sleep on the rug at the foot of her bed. That’s when I learned how he liked to cocoon inside blankets and sleep with pillows over his head.

  Now I listened to West’s rhythmic breathing and wondered what was waiting for him back at New Caelum. Would he be welcomed back in, or would the people shoot him on sight now that they knew the others who’d left had contracted the virus? Was his life in danger?

  My stomach tightened into a knot, and a lump formed in my throat. I didn’t know if Dax or Zara was dead. West’s friends, Key and Ryder, were dying in one hospital, and his sister, Willow, was dying in another. Dylan was now sick. It was happening all over again. The people around me were sick and dying or somehow being cut off from me. And no matter how many ways I tried to look at it, I kept coming back to the same conclusion—the return of Bad Sam and the killings were the fault of the people inside New Caelum. Just like it had been President Layne’s fault that my parents were cut off from our country during the initial stages of the pandemic. She’d been the one to give the order to shut down all air travel in and out of the country. West’s own mother had insisted that we cut our country off from the rest of the world.

  And with that ice-cold order, she also cut off my desire to have anything to do with the world of New Caelum. My chance to grow up with West—for us to be together—was over. Even at twelve, I had thought we’d be best friends forever—in fact, I’d thought we’d be more than best friends. And now, I knew he had believed the same thing. But we had been so naive.

  Was being here with him now a second chance? And if so, a second chance at what? What if he’d been raised to be just like his mother? No, I refused to believe that. Besides, his PulsePoint wasn’t working. Had his own mother cut him off?

  I came to a decision. I wanted West to live, and I knew they would kill him if he returned to New Caelum. They sure weren’t taking names last night when they began shooting at will.

  And that meant I would have to leave him behind.

  I leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, letting the warmth of his breath feather across my face before I pulled back. After leaving his PulsePoint where he would see it, I crawled back out of the tent, thankful that he was both exhausted and a heavy sleeper.

  I gathered my backpack, loaded with only the f
ew things I needed: the vials of virus antibodies, the beginnings of a cure that Caine had started, and my PulsePoint. And, of course, the countdown timer at the bottom of the pack.

  I had very little time. If Zara successfully planted the bomb inside the walls of New Caelum last night, I had barely three days.

  I hiked down the mountain at a good clip, attempting to cover my tracks the best I could as I went. But with only the moon to light my path, I stumbled a few times. Finally I was forced to slow down; the last thing I needed was a broken bone or spilled vials of viruses and antibodies.

  When at last I reached the gate into the city, I pulled out my PulsePoint and typed a message to West that he would hopefully find when he woke.

  Then I scrolled through my contacts, found the president’s private line, and pushed “call.”

  The video call was answered on the third ring. “Hello,” said a man with dark hair and dark facial hair, trimmed short in almost a full beard. “Who are you?” he asked.

  It was strange that this person didn’t automatically think it was Christina Black. Would my name not have popped up on the screen of the PulsePoint he was holding? Of course, I looked nothing like the Christina they were expecting.

  “I need to speak to President Layne,” I said.

  “I am the acting president. Who are you?” He narrowed his eyes, looking beyond me. “You’re outside.” His voice grew more concerned. “I demand to know who you are. I’m starting a track on this device.”

  Without even giving me the chance to answer, the man covered the PulsePoint and began to issue a muffled series of what I assumed were orders. When he reappeared on the screen again, he said, “Who are you, and why do you have Christina Black’s PulsePoint?” Now he was getting closer to knowing who I was.

  “I am with Christina Black, but by the time you reach me, she will be gone. If you would like a cure to Bad Sam, you will allow me to enter your city unharmed, and you will guarantee my safety while I’m there.”

  The man smiled, and not in a way that made my heart rate slow. “What should I call you?”

  “I’m Cricket, and I am your only hope for saving the president’s daughter and anyone else who has contracted Bad Sam.”

  “Well, Cricket, I’m Justin. I think we can accommodate your wishes… if what you say is true.”

  It didn’t take long to hear the scrambling of vehicles and feet. The outer gate of New Caelum clicked, then slowly began to open outward.

  A truck pulled through. Headlights blinded me. From around the truck came twenty or so people dressed in red hazmat suits, holding firearms pointed directly at me.

  chapter twenty-two

  West

  The fact that my arms, feet, and nose were ice cold eventually rose to the forefront of my subconscious. It took several more minutes for that irritation to jolt me awake. And as I woke, I realized why that freezing sensation had come back:

  Cricket was gone. And she had taken the warmth with her.

  My eyes sprang open. Not only was Cricket missing, so were her winter coat and the backpack that she never let out of her sight.

  I sat up and felt around for my clothes. When I reached for my coat, my hand fell on my PulsePoint. I knew I hadn’t left that out.

  I scrambled to get dressed and pull my boots on. I climbed out of the tent and secured the camping gear the best I could, then quickly scanned the area for any sign of where Cricket had gone. It was still very early, and only a little light filtered through the trees.

  Had she left me sleeping in order to enter New Caelum alone? How could she possibly think she would survive without my help?

  And she had left my PulsePoint out. Had she left me a note?

  I started to turn it on and check, then remembered how Cricket warned me that she was careful not to leave any tracks that might lead anyone to the campsite. I wouldn’t want to activate the PulsePoint here and risk bringing people to her sacred spot.

  So I started down the hill, and waited until I was far enough away before I turned on the PulsePoint. And as I feared, she had sent me a note:

  Westlin,

  In another life, I would have loved the fact that you found me again. But this is not that life. I don’t know what’s happening at New Caelum, but for some reason they cut you off, and after witnessing their murderous acts last night, I hope that you will decide to stay away from there. I will do what I can to save your sister, and to make it back out.

  Please understand that I, with the help of Zara and Dax, have already ensured my safe escape. Please don’t interfere. You’ve been given a chance at a completely different life, if you want it. I hope you’ll go back to Caine and your friends and wait for me there.

  I asked you if you had been happy inside New Caelum. Content is not good enough. I hope you’ll take this chance I’ve given you to stay on the outside and find happiness. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll get the chance to get to know each other again.

  Love,

  C

  “You’ve lost your mind!” I shouted. I was a second away from shattering my PulsePoint against a tree trunk, but stopped short, knowing I might yet need this one connection to the inside.

  How had I given her the impression that I desired any sort of life on the outside? I had no intention of living out here, and I had every intention of one day leading New Caelum into the next era.

  I rounded a bend in the path and faced New Caelum’s outer gate. Had Cricket truly gone in there without me? How did she get past the gate without being shot?

  I stared down at my PulsePoint. She’d obviously turned her own PulsePoint on in order to message me—and that meant she’d alerted anyone watching for it to the fact that Christina was, in fact, alive. That was a big risk, and I knew she hadn’t made that decision lightly.

  Maybe it was time for me to take a risk, too.

  Since I’d left New Caelum, the only person I’d tried to contact had been my mother—because, of course, she was the only one who knew I had left the city. But she wasn’t answering, and it was a safe bet that everyone else had figured it out by now anyway.

  I scrolled through my contacts and pressed on the one name I was sure would answer.

  A faint ring sounded through the PulsePoint several times before I heard a voice on the other end.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the president’s son.”

  “Hi, Justin. Something seems to be wrong with my PulsePoint. Mother sent me out to scout out a nearby settlement, but when I tried to call her to let her know—”

  “Don’t bother lying, West.”

  I made a fist and tried to keep the anger off of my face. “What are you talking about?”

  “We know you found Christina. Your travel companion, Cricket, is here, inside New Caelum. We know she left you behind. You will be allowed back inside under one condition.”

  A sweat broke out across the back of my neck, immediately turning cold in the frigid air. I couldn’t decide if he knew Cricket was Christina, or if he simply knew Christina was alive because of Cricket. “And what condition would that be?”

  “You will stick with the government track so that you can join your mother and me in the governing of New Caelum. And you will convince Christina to join us inside New Caelum as well.”

  “Or what?” There was no way I would convince Cricket to do anything against her will. And given the amount of hate I had for Justin Rhodes, my mother’s vice president, I wasn’t especially motivated to try.

  “Or I will make sure this Cricket thinks that you were the one responsible for Bad Sam being sent out into the outside settlements.”

  chapter twenty-three

  Cricket

  The enclosed sanctum of New Caelum was drastically different from the outside world I had come to know. The hallways were brightly colored. Lighting was placed strategically along the floor and on the walls near the ceiling, making me feel almost as if I were on a spaceship. The sleek, clean interior contrasted greatly with the run-down, and oft
en dilapidated, buildings that I’d come to know over the last six years.

  But despite the colorful atmosphere, I wasn’t welcomed to New Caelum with open arms. As soon as I walked through the gate, I was escorted to a tiny white room by armed men dressed in red hazmat suits, then told to wait.

  Hours later, I still waited. I sat on the edge of a bed that was covered in crisp white sheets, perfectly folded back and tucked under the mattress. There was nothing to do, nothing to look at. There were no exterior windows, and the blinds on the interior windows were closed from the other side.

  On my arrival, I had been given a change of clothes and pointed toward a bathroom—with “everything I needed” to take a shower and “sanitize” myself—but I had chosen to remain in my cargo pants, black tank, and tattered, oatmeal-colored sweater. My heavy coat, dirty and torn, was draped over a silver metal chair in the corner, and crumbles of dried dirt fell off the bottom of my boots onto the tiled floor every time I moved them.

  When at last the door to my room opened, I stood and faced it. In walked a man in a dark gray hazmat suit.

  I cocked my head. “You’re scared I’m sick?” I asked.

  “We can’t be too careful,” the man said through the speaker in his mask.

  “Whatever. I need to speak with Dr. Hempel.”

  “What makes you think there’s anyone inside New Caelum by that name?”

  “Because Dr. Caine Quinton sent me.” I decided I wasn’t playing games with these people. Maybe if I shot straight arrows, I’d hit my mark faster. “He says Dr. Hempel is the only person who can help me.”

  The man shifted and looked around the room. “Why have you chosen not to shower?”

  “Because I like my clothes, and I don’t plan on being here longer than I have to.”

  The man smiled. “You’ll be here long enough. You’ll see no one until you’ve properly sanitized and been tested for Bad Sam, as well as a few other diseases.”