Unraveled

by Gennifer Albin

  “We should keep moving,” Erik suggests. I nod in agreement, but before we make it out of the alley a man appears at its end, blocking our departure. He has the same decaying appearance as the dead girl.

  “We need to get out now,” I murmur.

  “You want to run past him?” Dante asks. He has a point. “We need a distraction.”

  Erik rummages through his rucksack but comes up empty-handed. “We can shoot him,” he suggests weakly.

  I don’t even know what to say to that suggestion. But I don’t have any suggestions of my own. In this strange severed existence, I cannot be sure my powers will work. I could do more harm than good.

  “We don’t know how the disease travels. We don’t want any of his blood flying around. It’s too dangerous,” Dante says.

  “I’m out of ideas,” Erik says.

  If we touch the man, we could become infected. But how are we going to get past him without touching him or hurting him?

  Dante motions for us to huddle together, but as we come closer, I notice something is off. Our group is smaller.

  “Wait. Where’s Val?” I ask, but I’m afraid I already know. I pop my head out of our cluster and immediately spot her. She’s no longer waiting silently by us. I know what she’s doing. And I know why. Valery, so in need of validation after her betrayal, so eager to prove herself, is going to sacrifice herself. It is too late to stop her.

  “Val!” Jost shouts, trying to call her back, but she’s already only a few steps from the decaying man. She turns just as his arms close over her frail figure. When the man opens his mouth, a swarm of insects spills out, engulfing Valery. They cover her skin in a teeming black coat.

  “No!” I yell. My fingers whip through the air, trying to latch on to the weave around us, but Dante grabs my hand.

  “Stop,” he commands me. It’s only then that I see the tear I’ve left in my wake. The weave around it frays, unraveling into thin, brittle strands. This world is dying. Valery is dying. And I can’t do anything to stop it.

  Valery calls into the dead night, but her words are soft. The only one I’m sure I understand is, “Run!”

  “It’s too late,” Dante says, dragging me beside him. I know he’s right. As we rush past Valery, the insects have vanished, but then I see them trembling along under her skin as it puckers and bubbles until the bugs begin to strip her flesh. Even through her agony, she manages a small smile.

  My fingers reach toward her, but Dante pushes me out of the alley and away from her.

  “Did anyone touch the girl?” Dante demands.

  I can’t bring myself to answer his question. Valery will be dead soon. There’s no way to stop it. If one of us is infected, we all will be soon.

  “Ad!” Dante shakes me.

  “She’s clean,” Erik says. “If any of us were infected, there would already be signs. You saw how quickly it infected Valery.” He places a protective arm around my shoulder, and Dante turns his attention to the rest of us. No one shows signs of infection. We have to hope we’re safe, but the truth is that none of us knows what we’re dealing with.

  We keep our lights on and move in a huddle. No one talks. A sense of shared urgency pulses among us.

  “Why would she do that?” Dante finally says. His words are a mix of disgust and admiration, and I’m almost certain he’s not looking for an answer.

  “Guilt.” Erik answers anyway, though his eyes never waver from the street ahead of us. “She betrayed us. This was her way of making it right.”

  I want to thank him for this obvious answer, but I know I’m looking for an outlet for my anger. I want to crack a joke and make the ache in my chest go away. But it’s not going to be that easy this time. If it was ever that easy before.

  “She didn’t have to get herself killed.” Erik’s words are few, but full of meaning.

  “Sometimes death is the only absolution,” Dante says.

  I shake my head. I don’t buy that for one minute. “There is no absolution in death, only escape.”

  “There’s absolution in sacrifice,” Erik says softly. I hear it in his voice—the pain of his own sacrifice. But what has he given up, and why?

  “Sebrina’s house should be another block,” Jost says, switching the topic to something practical to distract us from what we’ve lost.

  “What if she isn’t there?” I ask, immediately wishing I hadn’t.

  “She’s there,” Jost says. There’s not a trace of doubt in his voice.

  I wish I had that kind of conviction. I wish it were as simple as deciding to believe—in our plan, in the future, in who I am. My world is so tinged with little gray lies I can’t be sure I know what to do or what to believe in anymore. The Eastern Sector is playing tricks on my mind.

  The darkness creeps around us and I’m reminded of the world I left behind at the Coventry. But here the monster we face cannot be outwitted. It’s simply a matter of being faster than it.

  It’s as simple as not being touched.

  NINETEEN

  THE STREET IS FULL OF HOUSES THAT blend into the night, each perfectly plain and unobtrusive. The trees are dying, their thin branches drooping like broken limbs to the clumps of grass and remains of plants in each yard. What was once precise and pleasing is now a neighborhood of ghosts. Any of these houses could be infested by whatever the Guild has unleashed. There’s no vitality to the weave. Tarnished time threads knit through the brittle, frayed threads that make up the world around us. Only a few hours ago I believed there was no Eastern Sector. Now that I’m here I know that, without looms, there won’t be one much longer. Everything here is dying as time and space slip back into the universe.

  We quietly pass each house and I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting for the next attack.

  None comes and that almost makes it worse.

  The space between fear and anticipation is a waking nightmare of recrimination and doubt. I’m perpetually trapped in the knowledge of my own inferiority.

  Could I make the sacrifice Valery did?

  Would it even matter in the end?

  The farther we walk in silence, the more questions tumble through my head. I have no answers and the lack of finality breeds more doubts until my mind is numb, overstuffed with questions I can never answer. It is a table of plates with no food—a feast of famine to gorge my mind on as we move closer to Sebrina.

  I focus myself on this mission. I can effect change. I can save Jost’s daughter.

  I can.

  I can.

  I can.

  I repeat it over and over in my head, but I come no closer to believing it.

  Jost stops in front of one of the houses and we wait for him to give us instructions. After a few minutes I realize he’s as stuck as I am, caught in a loop of self-doubt.

  I take his hand and hold it. “Let’s get Sebrina.”

  But he doesn’t move, only turns to look at me. There’s something imploring in his eyes. “What if she’s dead?”

  “She’s not.” I channel his earlier certainty and try to sound as confident as he did then.

  “She won’t know me,” Jost says. “I’m a stranger, not her father.”

  This time Dante is the one to speak. “You will always be her father. Nothing can change that.”

  A lump grows in my throat. Poor Dante is the closest to understanding how Jost feels.

  I know what scares Jost. He’s worried that after everything he’s gone through to find her, Sebrina will reject him. How do you swallow the truth after a diet of lies?

  “Let’s check it out,” Erik says, pushing past us.

  I want to stop him because I can’t bear to watch another person walk into the unknown. Instead, I follow him, circling the house to check for signs of people.

  The house appears deserted.

  “I think it’s abandoned,” I say to Erik.

  He gives me a grim look and he doesn’t have to say what I know he’s thinking. Or they’re dead.

  “We won
’t know until we go in,” Jost says, moving toward the door.

  It’s locked. His hand balls into a fist, but before he can knock against it, the door opens a crack.

  “Are you the doctor?” a small voice asks.

  Jost drops to his knees until he’s level with the child peeping through the crack.

  “We’ve come to help.” His voice is husky and I can hear the tears he’s holding back.

  “My parents are sick,” the child says. “They won’t come out of their room.”

  My stomach turns over. They have the virus.

  Does Sebrina?

  I bend down and smile at her. “Can we come in and help?”

  There’s a moment of hesitation, but the girl nods.

  As I stand up, Dante whispers in my ear, “Don’t touch her.”

  I don’t like that he said it. Not only because I hate what he’s thinking, but also because I worry what will happen to Jost if Sebrina is ill. And because this is now an introduction layered with fear instead of joy.

  The door opens and there she is. Already half my height, I know she has to be nearly five years old with the time we’ve spent on Earth. I expect to see the same calculation in Jost’s eyes when I turn to speak to him. But it’s not there.

  Sebrina was a baby when the Guild took her from Jost. Now she’s a young girl, self-sufficient enough to open the door for the doctor. She has wide, curious eyes that are the same blue as her father’s. But her hair is dark and curly. She wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms as she takes us in.

  “You don’t look like doctors,” she says.

  “We’re not,” I say, gesturing to Jost but adding quickly, “They are.”

  As Tailors, Dante and Erik are as close to doctors as it’s possible for any of us to be right now.

  “What are you doing?” Dante whispers in my ear. “We can’t save her parents. We have no renewal patches and no medicine. They’re probably already dead!”

  Sebrina’s eyes flash up to his and her lower lip trembles.

  “How long have your parents been sick?” I ask her, ignoring Dante’s paranoia and taking her small hand.

  “Father left to get food. He said it was too dark for me to come along, but I miss going outside and I miss the sun.” She speaks in the rambles of a young child, trying to get the information out as quickly as possible, but getting distracted along the way.

  “I know.” I squeeze her hand. “When did your father go out for food?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Ad,” Erik calls, and I find him in the kitchen. “He managed to find some.” On the counter sit a few boxes of co-op instant dinners.

  “Who knows how long they’ve been there, though,” I say quietly to him.

  Sebrina perks up. “I’ve only had one. I made it last until I fell asleep.”

  The pride is evident in her voice, even though she has no idea how much she’s really told me.

  “He must have gone out in the last few days,” I say to Erik. “Maybe not long ago if she’s only had one.”

  “Then her parents could still be alive,” he says. To the right of us, Jost draws in a long breath and I remember that Sebrina still has one living parent and immediately feel guilty.

  “We should bring her with us,” Dante says. “Even if they’re alive, they won’t be much longer.”

  I’m not sure what to expect Jost to say in this moment. He’s waited for years to get his daughter back. He lost too much time trying to find her, yet he doesn’t sweep in and scoop her up. Instead he shakes his head. “I want to talk to her … parents.”

  “They’re infected,” Erik reminds him.

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I barely do myself. But what the Guild did—these people had no part of it,” he says slowly, as though he’s working through it himself. “They took care of her when I couldn’t. I need them to know she’ll be cared for now.”

  I can’t pretend to understand his feelings. It’s the barrier that’s always stood between Jost and me. I’ve never felt anything as deeply as he does.

  “Where are your parents?” Jost trips over the word as he asks.

  Sebrina takes his hand and leads him into a short hallway. The house reminds me of my home in Romen. Simple and efficient. Bathroom, kitchen, dining room, living room, and two bedrooms. Sebrina is the only child, so they wouldn’t need a bigger house. The Guild gave her to them for being steady and responsible and to make up for something the government couldn’t control. But this is how it will end for them: victims of the government they obeyed.

  Sebrina stops in front of a closed door and looks up to Jost with large eyes. He crouches down next to her. “I’m going to talk to your parents now. I want you to wait out here.”

  I move forward to take her back into the other room, but Erik beats me there. Before I can react, Erik picks her up and takes her away from the bedroom door.

  Jost’s eyes meet mine and I raise an eyebrow. Things between them have certainly changed since I left.

  “Come with me?” he asks.

  “Always.”

  He raps softly on the door but there’s no response. He knocks again, more loudly, and the door shakes as something bumps against it.

  “Jost…” I say in a low voice.

  He raises a finger and we wait, our breath in our throats.

  “I’m here to help,” Jost calls. “Your daughter says you’re sick.”

  “Go away.” The voice coming through the door is rough and shallow.

  “Please,” Jost says, more insistent. “I need to talk to you about your daughter.”

  The door opens a fraction, but we can’t see the person behind the door. “Is she safe?”

  “Yes. I can explain if you’ll open the door.”

  “No!” the woman cries. “You mustn’t come in here. You have to take her away.”

  “I will,” Jost promises. “But there’s something you should know. I’m Sebrina’s father. Her biological father. I’ve been looking for her for a long time.”

  There’s a long pause before the woman responds. “The Guild told us she was an orphan.”

  “They told me she was dead,” Jost says. “I wanted to—”

  “I didn’t know!” The woman’s voice is a shriek and I can hear how hard she clings to control as illness ravages her body.

  “I wanted to thank you,” Jost says, placing a hand on the door. “And I wanted you to know she’ll be safe with me.”

  “There’s no safety left in Arras.” A choking sound accompanies the words.

  “I’m taking her away from Arras. She’ll be safe. I promise you.”

  I think of Amie, rewoven as Riya, and wonder who Jost’s daughter has become. “What’s her name now?”

  Jost gives me a look that shows this never occurred to him before. But when the mother answers, it’s not what I expect. “We call her Sebrina. We were told that was her name.”

  “It is,” Jost says. “It always will be.”

  “Look after her.” The mother sounds calmer now, as though knowing Sebrina will be safe has given her enough peace to cope as she dies.

  “Goodbye.” I leave the farewell lingering between us as Jost turns and takes his daughter from Erik. She doesn’t fight him. It’s as though she somehow knows he will care for her, even though she can’t remember him. Sometimes love survives everything, even the darkest hours.

  TWENTY

  ON DANTE’S ORDER, THE AGENDA MEMBERS LEFT at the Guild offices place the facility on lockdown as soon as we enter. As it’s a former Ministry complex, there are plenty of controls in place to ensure no one can get in or out without permission. But I can’t help feeling as though we’ve locked ourselves in a cage.

  “Where’s Valery?” Jax asks as we enter the room.

  Jost shoots him a warning look. Sebrina is in his arms, nearing sleep, but trying to keep her eyes open. I don’t blame her for wanting to see where she’s being taken.

 
“Do we have anything for her to eat?” Jost asks.

  Jost refused to take the rations Sebrina’s adoptive father managed to bring home. He claimed they were unsafe. He might have been right, but I knew that he wanted to make sure Sebrina’s adoptive parents had food as well. Not one of us dared to tell him it was a pointless waste.

  Jax manages to find some rations and the remains of a chocolate stash hidden in one of the ministers’ offices. Sebrina bites off the candy in huge chunks, sighing contentedly while the rest of us watch.

  “I’m going to find her somewhere to sleep,” Jost tells us, gathering his daughter in his arms.

  As I run my fingers along the glossy wood of the tabletop, I can’t help wondering about the important decisions officials made here. In Arras there are three more tables like this, all full of officials meeting to discuss the problems Arras faces. I wonder if I’m on the list today or if Cormac has managed to cover up my escape.

  “Valery?” Jax prompts as soon as Jost leaves.

  I shake my head. “We were attacked. She didn’t make it.”

  “Attacked?”

  “There’s something out there,” Erik whispers. “A disease or a virus.”

  “A swarm,” I say, thinking of how it descended upon Valery, disappearing into her skin. “Valery sacrificed herself so we could escape. It works quickly. She was already infected before we could reach her.” Thinking back on the attack, I’m more certain than ever that we aren’t dealing with a natural phenomenon. The Guild is up to something.

  “You’re sure you’re clean?” Jax asks. He doesn’t take a step back from us, but I sense that he wants to.

  “Trust me,” Erik says. “You can see it. Plus, it infects quickly. By the time we saw the first victim, the woman’s skin was rotting off. She hardly looked human.”

  “She reminded me of a Remnant,” I admit. I can’t get my last image of Valery out of my head, nor the words she whispered as we passed.

  Valery and I had a trying relationship on Earth, but we had been friends once, in the way I had been friends with Enora, my mentor and her lover. We were kind to each other, helpful even, but neither of us truly shared who we were until it was too late. Standing here now, I realize we weren’t so very different. We both lost loved ones. Neither of us ran until it was too late. The only thing that separated us was my skill. It bought me time and chances I deserved no more than Valery.