by Marina Epley
“Please,” Rebecca repeats, almost crying now.
“Just leave,” I command, “and be sure to tell everybody that the next one entering this room will be shot on sight.”
Rebecca quietly sobs as she goes. I lower the weapon.
Kitty and I will be always together. I won’t allow those fools to bury her while there’s still a glimmer of hope.
***
The night has fallen. I’m still sitting on the floor, holding a now stiff and cold Kitty in my arms. She hasn’t awakened.
The door opens. I flinch from the sudden noise, instantly raising the gun. It’s Jessie this time. She doesn’t try to say anything. I continue holding the gun on her.
After a long pause, she begins walking toward me, as if the barrel aimed at her forehead isn’t reason enough to keep away. She approaches and carefully takes the weapon from my hand. I let her have it. She sits down beside me, remaining silent.
“We’ll have to bury Kitty,” Jessie finally says. “She’s gone.”
“No,” I answer stubbornly. “You don’t understand, Jess. She can’t be dead. It wouldn’t make any sense.”
“She’s dead as dead gets,” Jessie assures me.
I shake my head.
“Rex, if you don’t stop freaking out, Chase and a squad of officers will break into the room,” Jessie warns. “You’ll be sedated and locked up.”
I nod in understanding.
“Come with me,” she continues.
I nod again, rising to my feet. I place Kitty’s body back onto the gurney.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promise, kissing her lightly on the forehead.
Jessie watches me warily. She motions for me to follow and we walk into the corridor.
Chase, Holtzmann, Rebecca and Marcus meet us in the doorway. I notice a couple of concerned-looking doctors standing behind them. Jessie returns the gun to Chase.
“Sorry about that,” I say to him. “I guess I just overreacted.”
“It’s all right,” Chase answers, still watching me carefully.
Holtzmann mumbles something about getting medical attention and having me sedated.
“I’m okay, professor,” I sigh. “And I won’t be needing a sedative.”
“Are you completely certain that you’re all right?” Holtzmann asks.
“Of course,” I answer, smiling. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
***
The remainder of the night and the next day pass in a haze. I don’t remember many details.
I do vaguely recall Rebecca and Marian trying to feed me. I remember them being very upset. My sister cries non-stop, but I don’t bother with trying to soothe her. I eat whatever food they bring, so that everybody will finally leave me alone.
Jessie and I dress Kitty in a black Elimination uniform. I notice fresh stitches covering Kitty’s body. It looks like maybe seven or eight bullets had hit her. I hope she didn’t suffer too much the last hours. It’s probably good she had passed out almost instantly and then medics quickly sedated her.
In the evening, we all stand around Kitty’s gravesite in the cemetery. We decided to bury her under the shade of a large old oak. I actually think Kitty would prefer to lie under a palm tree, because she always seemed fascinated by them. But there are no palm trees in this city, so the oak will have to do.
It’s winter and the ground is close to becoming frozen. This worries me, because Kitty never could stand to be cold. What if she gets cold under the ground? What if the Elimination uniform doesn’t keep her warm enough?
We don’t have an official ceremony. Holtzmann asks whether I’d like to say any special words. I shake my head because I’ve no idea what to say.
Marcus, Chase and I lower the coffin. Then we all spend a few more minutes in silence, standing around her grave. Marian breaks down completely and sits on the ground. Rebecca hugs her tightly, sobbing as well. Marcus turns away, looking over in the direction of his brother’s grave.
I have no tears to shed and don’t even feel like crying. My only concern is that Kitty may get cold. I can’t stop worrying about that. Maybe I should have wrapped her in a blanket? Maybe I should have dressed her in a warmer coat?
***
Back at the headquarters, I leave everybody in the dining room, heading back toward our quarters. I sit on the edge of our bed till late at night, staring off into space. This room seems awfully silent and empty now. I envision Kitty smiling and laughing. I think of her wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me.
I realize I’ll never be hearing Kitty’s laughter again. I’ll never again see her smile. Never again hold or kiss her.
It hurts so much that I want to yell. I want to fall down onto the floor and cry my eyes out. But I remain motionless and silent. I have no tears in me.
This is all wrong, I think. I should be the one under the tree instead of her.
Her blood is on my hands.
Of course I didn’t pull the trigger of the rifle that shot her. But I put my Kitty in harm’s way.
I’d already gotten Lena killed… and Jimmy, and Chelsey. Vogel died on my behalf, rescuing me from the fire. That nameless recruit died, diverting the guards’ attention away from me back at the parade. Too many deaths. Too many sacrifices.
It feels like I’ve been staggering through an endless cemetery these past several months.
I suddenly realize I might have saved Kitty. If not for my sightless eye, if I could only see as those soldiers approached... I could have shielded her.
As I look back, I also realize that there were numerous other opportunities to avoid her death. I should have done so many things differently.
If only I’d prohibited Kitty from taking part in Holtzmann’s experiment. If only I’d actually died during the lethal injection. If I hadn’t allowed Kitty to fall in love with me. If only I’d never revealed my breaker abilities a year ago…
It’s too late to change anything.
Kitty is gone and I have no reason to continue living. Nothing should keep us apart, even death.
***
I find Kitty’s forty-five right where she hid it in the closet. I sit back down on the bed and place the barrel in my mouth. I hold a finger on the trigger. And then I make a really stupid mistake. Instead of shooting myself, I hesitate, as if waiting for some miracle to happen. No matter how much I wish to die, some small part of me still holds onto life, although doing so makes no sense. Some kind of damn survival instinct.
“Are you trying to eat your gun now?” Jessie asks, entering the room.
I quickly remove the barrel from my mouth, embarrassed.
“Leave me be, Jess,” I say quietly.
“You were doing it the wrong way,” Jessie explains, grinning. “You have to press the barrel toward the rooftop of your mouth. Otherwise, instead of blowing out your brains you might just make a big hole in the back of your throat.”
“Well, thanks for the advice,” I say. “Now leave, please.”
Jessie remains in the doorway.
“I don’t really mind your committing suicide,” she proclaims. “But do you really think that’s what Kitty would want you to do? She saved your life, Rex. So she obviously wanted you to live.”
“It doesn’t matter much now what she wanted, does it?” I say. “She’s no longer with us.”
“What about Guardian?” Jessie continues. “Would you leave him unpunished? I imagine you know very well who ordered Kitty shot.”
“So what?” I ask.
“Don’t you want a little payback before offing yourself?”
“His death won’t bring Kitty back. So what’s the point?”
Jessie slowly approaches and sits down beside me. I become a little tense. I’m not so willing to let her take my gun away a second time.
“Rex, I’m not here trying to talk you out of committing suicide,” Jessie explains. “We just have to take care of Guardian first. You must realize I can’t kill him on my own. I hate to admit it, but I do need
your help.”
“It’s over, Jess,” I answer. “There’s no way to kill Guardian without Kitty. She was the Alpha subject.”
“There has to be a way!” Jessie exclaims. “And we have to find it!”
“Well, go ahead and find it,” I suggest. “Consult with Holtzmann. He must have a few ideas. But I'm out.”
She turns to face me. Her eyes become angry.
“That’s just being selfish,” Jessie says.
I shrug.
“You can’t just walk away. Guardian will destroy the entire city. He’ll kill everybody here, including your sister and Rebecca. Did you even bother to stop and think what might happen to them?”
I shrug again.
“Fine,” Jessie snorts, rising to her feet. “Then go ahead and do as you please.”
She turns to head toward the door, but I suddenly grab her wrist. Jessie stops, glancing back at me.
“Stay awhile,” I say. “Please.”
I know very well I won’t survive till morning, left alone.
I squeeze her wrist tighter, as if afraid that Jessie may run from me. She hesitates for a few moments, but then seems to come to understand everything.
“Let’s go to my room,” Jessie offers. “I have some whiskey there.”
We walk together through the long lonely corridor, heading toward her quarters. I’m still holding her wrist, but Jessie pretends not to notice. Inside her room, she pulls out a full bottle from her closet.
“I was saving it to celebrate our victory,” she explains.
We both sit on her bed, passing the bottle and taking long pulls. I quickly become drowsy, but continue drinking. I want to knock myself out so that I can’t think about anything.
At some point, Jessie begins crying silently. It’s so shocking to see that I even stop fantasizing about shooting myself. I never imagined that she could actually cry.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. We sit side by side and head to head for a few moments, sharing our grief. I’m not sure whom she’s crying for. It could be Kitty, her parents or even herself. Or maybe she’s crying for all of us.
Jessie wipes her eyes, finally calming down. She snatches the bottle from my hand, takes another slug and passes it back.
We finish off the entire bottle, and we’re still not drunk enough yet. Jessie slides off the bed and rises to her feet, swaying.
“Wait here,” she commands in a slurred speech.
I nod, watching as Jessie stumbles toward the door. Left alone, I fall onto my back on the bed and lie unmoving, gazing up at the ceiling. It’s spinning. I feel nauseated. But I’m not sure I’d be able to pass out yet.
I continue thinking of Kitty. She’s actually dead, the thought swirls in my mind, Kitty’s really gone.
Jessie returns, raising a bottle filled with some unidentifiable liquid.
“Where did you… what…,” I mumble, unable to finish a sensible phrase.
Jessie mutters something back, but the meaning of her words slip outside of my consciousness. She hops onto the bed and we continue drinking.
I pass out somewhere about half way into the second bottle. No more worries or sad thoughts this night.
***
I awaken to a monstrous hangover. The sun is coming up and the room is growing lighter. I’m lying on my side across the bed. My head is pounding. I feel nauseated and ill. I can’t remember where I am or how I ended up here. This place doesn’t resemble my quarters at all.
My memory suddenly returns. I remember drinking with Jessie. And I also recall the precise reason why we were getting drunk.
I shut my eyes, hoping to pass out again.
But I remain conscious. I finally sit up, wincing from the sharp pain inside my head. I feel like I’m about to vomit, so I crawl off the bed almost stepping on Jessie. She’s lying on the floor, an empty bottle still tightly clenched in her hand. She’s sound asleep.
I step carefully around Jessie, heading into the bathroom. I kneel in front of the toilet and begin throwing up. Afterward I wash out my mouth with cold water and return inside the room. I sit on the edge of the bed, thinking of what to do next.
Jessie mutters something incoherent. I remember our hunting down Wheeler together. It was Jessie who finally got him. I look at her sniper rifle propped against the wall. I think about Guardian raising me up into the air, using telekinesis. I remember him losing his concentration when Kitty, Oliver and Chase opened fire on him. He had dropped me, being momentarily distracted.
I finally understand what must be done.
The lethal injection. That’s when things started going completely wrong. I was supposed to die that day, but didn’t. So it’s time to make things right.
I kneel down beside Jessie, shaking her awake.
“Wake up, Jess!” I exclaim. “Please, wake up!”
She groans, pushing me away.
“Come on!” I shake her harder.
“Leave me the hell alone,” she mumbles.
“Wake up!” I insist.
Jessie finally opens her eyes, wincing. She must be suffering a terrible headache as well.
“What do you want from me now?” she asks.
“I know how to kill Guardian,” I answer. “But I will be needing your help.”
Chapter 29
“What are you talking about?” Jessie asks, sitting up unsteadily and rubbing her head.
“You and I will kill Guardian together,” I state, grinning like an idiot.
“Fine,” Jessie answers indifferently, falling back down onto the floor. Her unfocused eyes close again as she goes back to sleep.
“Damn it, Jess!” I exclaim, shaking her. “Wake up! Can you hear me?”
She pushes me away, groaning.
“Come on!” I persist.
“Please!” she exclaims. “Stop pestering me, my head is killing me!”
I continue shaking her. She sits up, finally understanding that getting rid of me is simply not going to happen.
“My head,” she complains. “I need a drink.”
Jessie looks disappointedly at the empty bottle still clenched in her hand. I find a glass and fill it with cold water. I hand it over and she drinks half.
“Where are my cigarettes?” she asks.
I find a pack, light one and stick it between her lips. She takes a deep drag.
“Better?” I ask.
“Not really,” Jessie mutters, coughing.
I begin telling her about my new plan on how to assassinate Guardian. Jessie raises her hand, motioning for me to stop. I stop talking. I realize I have to let her recover first. I doubt she’s able to comprehend much of what I’m saying at the moment.
After Jessie finishes her smoke, I suggest she take a shower. Hopefully, it will help to revive her. Jessie mumbles something incoherent, neither in support nor opposition to my idea. I grip Jessie under her arms, pulling her up. I lead her toward the bathroom.
“You’re such a jerk, do you know that?” Jessie grumbles. “Why can’t you just let me sleep it off?”
She’s becoming more aggressive and rude. I’m thankful because it’s a sure sign of her recovery.
I shove her on inside the bathroom.
“A shower will help you wake up a little,” I say, smiling. “And then we must have a serious talk.”
“Will you just close the damn door already?” Jessie asks angrily. “Or were you planning to watch?”
I hesitate a moment. I have a thought that she could fall in the shower, and wonder whether it’s safe to leave her alone in her current condition.
“Just don’t fall down, all right?” I say finally. “Please be careful.”
Jessie rolls her eyes.
“Fifteen minutes,” I add. “If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, I’ll know that something bad has happened and I’ll come in.”
“Good grief!” she exclaims. “You’re a real creeper!”
Jessie pushes me out of the bathroom and shuts the door. Well, perh
aps I am overreacting a little. But what should she expect, when everybody seems to be dying on me?
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching the clock. I hear water running in the bathroom. I think of Kitty and the cold, dark grave we buried her in.
A few minutes later Jessie returns to the bedroom, drying her short hair with a towel. She looks much better, her eyes now more focused and attentive.
“All right,” she says. “Spit it out.”
I tell her about my plan. Jessie listens intently, frowning and assessing the odds for success. I know it seems crazy at first, but I’m sure Jessie will agree to everything I’m suggesting. She won’t be able to resist an opportunity to personally gun down Guardian.
I explain how Elimination should attack the Death Camp and destroy it, instead of passively waiting for them to strike the city.
“I’m sure we can handle that part,” Jessie says. “I can see how Elimination with Oliver’s recruits might overpower Guardian’s troops and destroy the Camp. But what about Guardian? Who’d kill him?”
“You,” I answer. “He’s yours.”
“He can stop bullets,” she reminds me.
“Not when he’s distracted.”
I explain to her how Guardian lost his concentration after being distracted, and dropped me onto the floor. She never had a chance to witness all that, having been shot in the stomach.
“I was right there,” I tell her. “I saw everything with my own eyes. So I believe that Guardian won’t be able to stop your bullet, provided we divert his attention. The problem is that you’ll have to make the shot from pretty far away. And you’ll only get one try, Jess. Otherwise, he’ll realize what’s happening and kill us both.”
“I suppose you’re planning to be the one to distract him, aren’t you?” Jessie asks.
I nod.
“How?” she asks. “He may explode your head on sight.”
“Not if I have the same level of telekinesis.”
“But you don’t… Wait. Are you going to…?”
