He’s dead. Luka’s dead. He’s never going to wake up. Or graduate from high school or go to college. He’ll never tease Rosie or get to know my mother. He’ll never surf again, or teach me how. I won’t feel his warm hand holding mine. No more crooked smile. No more kisses that set my skin on fire. No more hand against my stomach, lips next to my ear—giving me my breath when anxiety has its way.
People gather around us, their whispered questions—What happened? How did we win?—fall into a hushed reverence, punctuated by the shouting of firefighters. It’s not until the first rays of sunlight crest the horizon that people begin to disappear. They will wake up in their beds in the decimated city of Newport, Rhode Island. They will toast to victory. They will probably toast to Luka.
Cap squeezes my shoulder. “We should go.”
I shake my head, because I can’t. I can’t leave this place, not when I can still feel Luka’s life. It’s like a phantom limb, one I cling to for all I’m worth.
“Come on,” he says.
“No.” I don’t want to rejoin my body. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m pretty sure my body can’t handle this amount of pain.
Cap releases a long sigh, gives my shoulder another squeeze, then disappears. It’s only Link now. He stays with me while the firefighters snuff out the last of the flames. He sits with me in the grass and holds my hand while I stare numbly at Luka’s still form. He wanted a lifetime of moments and memories together, but we won’t get them. All I can do is run the ones we did have over and over in my mind while the hole in my chest widens. Leaving a chasm where my heart should be.
Link shifts beside me.
I blink several times and sit up straighter.
Luka fades away.
I reach out to grab him. It’s too soon. I need more time. But he dissolves into nothing, and so, too, does the phantom limb. He takes all traces of his life with him. I’m left with nothing to stare at but the grass.
“Come on, Xena,” Link says.
I’ll never be ready, but there’s nothing for me here. All that remains is a charred house and smoky haze. Luka is no more. Nothing I can do will bring him back. There’s no reason to stay on this battlefield. Not when the war is over.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Closure
Artificial light squeezes through the crack beneath my door. So does the sound of excited conversation. People out in the hallway—speculating, hoping, celebrating. That this is it. That the war is over. Joanna’s bed is unmade and empty. The fluorescent green numbers on the clock read 6:26.
My stomach rolls. A lump of pain expands in the back of my throat. All the world’s gravity parks on top of my chest. My heart, however, remains numb. Or maybe it’s gone. Maybe I’ll live the rest of my life without one.
The door opens, letting in a flood of brightness. Cap wheels inside wearing a pair of sweats over his emaciated legs. It’s how I feel. Emaciated. Mind, body, and soul. He flips on the light switch. “Come with me.”
I curl onto my side and stare at the wall. I did what I was supposed to do. I played my part. I’m done now. I have nothing left. I don’t have to go anywhere. I want to sleep. Escape to a dream like the people who are hijacked, only I will go voluntarily. I will construct a world where Luka is alive and I’ll stay forever.
Cap wheels closer. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
I’m positive there’s nothing I want to see, but I also don’t have any energy to argue. So I force myself to sit up, every muscle in my body sore and stiff. Slowly, I stick my arms inside a zip-up hoodie by my bed and shuffle after Cap, each step an exhausting effort, like I’m trying to push through Jell-O instead of air.
The hallway is all movement and chatter.
“It’s breaking news on every station,” Cap says. “They’re calling it an internal terrorist attack.”
I stare at the back of his head as I shuffle behind him. Does he really think I care?
“Felix, Ronie, and Link are working on getting word from Adam. We want to make sure Cormack is safe.”
He stops in front of room fourteen.
The pain in the back of my throat throbs. This is what Cap wants me to see? It feels cruel. Uncaring. Cap is neither. I shake my head and walk away, faster than when I came. If I see Luka, the pain in my throat will turn into pain in my heart and I need that to stay numb.
“You should go inside.”
I stop, tears welling in my eyes. “You think that’ll make me feel better? Give me some sort of closure or something?” I swipe at my cheek—nausea morphing into anger. Red hot anger. I whirl around. “I don’t want to see him—”
My heart stops.
My breathing, too.
Luka.
He’s standing beside Cap. He—he’s standing. He—he’s alive.
“I told you to stay in bed,” Cap mutters.
“I told you she wouldn’t come in if I did.” Luka looks at me. His green eyes are actually looking at me.
I can’t move. I’m afraid to move. I’m positive if I do, what I’m seeing will go away. So I stand there, my knees shaking like twin earthquakes, terrified to hope, the numb wall surrounding my heart fissuring apart. I’m already dreaming. Constructing. I never woke up. Because this can’t be possible. Luka transurged. I felt his life more powerfully than I felt Gabe’s. And I threw it out as surely as I threw Gabe’s. With trembling fingers, I touch the inside of my wrist. It’s not numb.
It’s not numb.
He cocks his head, his mouth turning up in that crooked grin. The one I never thought I’d see again. “Do you really not want to see me?”
I release a shallow breath. I take one step. Then two and three. Until I’m running, flinging myself into his arms. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and it’s there—unmistakably there. A pulse that throbs against my cheek. Our hearts crash in unison—one crazy, hopeful heartbeat.
“As soon as I woke up,” Cap says, “I went to check on him. Scared me half to death when he opened his eyes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Luka’s voice rumbles in his chest, his breath warm against my ear. “I did it. I didn’t see any other way. I transurged, but my life never left me. I felt it the whole time. I felt you the whole time. It was like we were tethered by an invisible wire. It was like we were—”
“Linked.”
We turn and look at Cap.
“You asked me once if a Keeper has ever survived transurgence and my answer was no. Every instance of transurgence has resulted in the Keeper’s death. But every instance of transurgence has always been between a Keeper and Fighter.”
My eyes widen. “I’m a Linker, too.”
“And you were linked to Luka. When he transurged, his life flowed through the link to you, but it never fully left him.”
“But what about Gabe?” Luka asks.
“Tess wasn’t linked to Gabe. Link was.”
Cap’s right. I was too distraught at the time. Link brought Gabe over. Not me. A hot tear tumbles down my cheek. Followed by another. And another.
Luka cups my face in his hands and wipes the wetness away with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m alive, Tess.”
He’s alive.
He’s alive!
My chest collapses, releasing a sound that is half-laugh, half-cry. Luka pulls me in for a kiss. One that has me curling my fingers into his messy hair. And Cap—the man against any sort of purpling—chuckles softly and wheels away.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Beyond Explanation
The next several days are busy ones. A frenzy of corroborating information and tying up lose ends. Basically ensuring that our victory remains a victory. The news runs 24-7. Not just down in Headquarters, but everywhere. It’s hard to tear ourselves away, so much is being announced and recapped and updated.
Currently, all of us are gathered in the common room to watch a much-anticipated interview between Loraine Masters—the most well-known broadcast journalist in America—and President Abi
gail Cormack, live from the Oval Office. It’s the first time the nation will see her after all the craziness that ensued on the second of June. But it’s not the first time I’ve seen her.
Over the past three days, I’ve visited her twice. Debriefing. Questioning. Verifying. Turns out, her last clear memory before being freed went all the way back to her senator days, which means she was hijacked for a long, long time. Understandably, she’s shaken. Full-out paranoid, actually, which is a good thing. It’ll keep her vigilant. On guard. Combine that with Felix working his connections and getting her four new personal bodyguards (two Shields and two Fighters) and we’re feeling pretty confident that the leader of our country will remain safe and secure.
Luka and I sit on one of the couches, holding hands as Cormack explains what happened. We’ve barely let go since our reunion in the hallway. I’m not sure we ever will. I still can’t stop scratching my wrist. We’re alive. We’re together. And thanks to Cormack, we’re free. Turns out, we aren’t deranged or dangerous. This was another bit of breaking news—one more piece of an elaborate ruse organized by a group of unnamed terrorists. Link, Connal, Lexi, Sticks, and Non have been acquitted, too.
“Our government was infiltrated on every level,” Cormack says.
This is how the truth is being spun. Substitute evil for terrorists, and it’s all pretty accurate. Except for the Surgeon General’s innocence. The public believes these terrorists assassinated him once he realized the virus was a hoax.
“So there was never a virus?” Masters asks.
Cormack shakes her head. “They breeched our country’s most secure networks and plugged in false information, which was spread via media channels, who then, of course, reported what we thought was fact.”
A modern day Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds. On steroids.
“Why do you think they did it?” Loraine asks. “What were they trying to accomplish?”
“Exactly what their name implies. To stir up as much fear and chaos as possible.”
“For what purpose, though?”
“To distract us. We believe they’ve been planning a takeover for a long time. It was systematic and widespread, and tragically, they took a lot of lives.”
Cormack and Masters go on to discuss the disturbing information coming out of the woodwork—massive inaccuracies surrounding pregnancy screenings, the gross mistreatment of patients in mental rehabilitation facilities, the disturbing conditions in refugee communities—and the measures being taken to ensure these wrongs are made right, that such colossal injustices never happen again.
“Our country has a lot of healing to do,” Cormack says.
She’s right. All of us do.
I glance at Henry, playing chess with Connal on the floor. Connal shows him how to move the horse. He and Lexi have taken the kid under their wing until he can be reunited with his father and sister, both of whom are alive and on their way to Newport. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to erase the sound of Henry sobbing into the phone as his dad spoke words of comfort into his ear. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to erase the look on Link’s face when he phoned Jillian’s mother to tell her where her daughter had been laid to rest.
“There’s a question everyone keeps asking. I’d be remiss not to ask it tonight.” Loraine crosses her slim leg over the other and folds her hands over her knee. “How did you survive? How were you able to escape? Every secret service agent at your home in Camp David was in on the terrorist plot except for one.” Adam, who’s being lauded a hero. And rightfully so. Our mission would have failed without his fast thinking and exceptional aim. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“It wasn’t. Logically speaking, I should be dead.”
“So how do you explain it, then?”
“I can’t.” Cormack takes a deep breath and tucks her hair behind her ear. There’s no trace of the mark anywhere on her neck. “If I’ve realized anything over the past few days, it’s this. Some things are simply beyond the realm of explanation.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Goodbye
Everyone is packing up. Saying their goodbyes. There’s no reason to stay. We’re no longer in danger. As more and more people leave—returning to what’s left of their former lives—Headquarters grows increasingly quiet.
It’s odd, watching the rooms empty. It reminds me of the summer camp I went to in junior high (another one of Mom’s attempts to find me some friends). The final day, all the girls were crying and hugging and promising to keep in touch while I stood off to the side, brimming with relief that it was finally time to go home. Only now, as Luka and I eat our last meal in the mess hall with Link, Rosie, and Declan, there are two goodbyes I’m dreading.
Declan folds up his empty carton of milk. “When are you two leaving?”
“One-thirty.” I glance at the large clock on the wall, nerves swimming around inside my stomach like hyperactive tadpoles. In two hours, Luka and I will go above ground. We’ll cross that freaky bridge. We’ll board a plane. And we’ll fly home—to Thornsdale, where I will see my mom and Pete and Leela.
Link glances at me across the table.
I take a sudden interest in swirling a glob of ketchup around my plate with a French fry. If it’s a goodbye he’s looking for, I’m not ready. We still have two hours.
“What about you, Link?” Rosie asks over a mouthful of food. “Have you decided where you’re gonna go yet?”
“I’m thinking Denver.”
I look up from my ketchup-swirling. Last I heard, he was still undecided. I invited him to California, but he laughed it off like I was joking. I wasn’t, but I don’t blame him. If I were in love with a boy who was in love with another girl, I sure wouldn’t follow him and that girl across the country to start a new life. Link is so much more than a third wheel. Still, though, the selfish part of me wishes he would’ve said yes. I guess there’s still bits of my grandmother in me after all.
Rosie holds what’s left of her sandwich beneath her chin. “What’s in Denver?”
“Mountains. And a lead on a pretty cool job opportunity for a hacker like myself.”
“And a really hot girl named Ronie,” Declan adds with a smirk.
“Oooo. Link and Ronie sitting in a tree …”
Link throws a French fry at Rosie while I battle a bout of jealousy. It’s a stupid reaction, one I need to ditch pronto. I can’t have them both—Luka and Link. And even if I could, Link deserves to be someone’s first choice. That’s what he is with Ronie. She’s crazy about him. I should be ecstatic that he’s going with her to Denver.
“What about you small fry?” Link asks. “Where are you off to?”
Her face brightens. “I’m going back to Detroit.”
Detroit? I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go back there. It’s cold, for one. And a hot mess, for two. “Why?”
“Cap and his wife are gonna take in me and Bass.” She practically bounces in her seat when she says it. “Cap says his wife’s a really good cook. And I finally get to go to school. A real one.”
My heart lifts. It’s funny what war can do—tearing families apart, then putting them together again, often in the most unlikely of ways. “That sounds amazing.”
“Don’t give her the wrong impression. It’s not going to be all sunshine and roses.” The gruff voice belongs to Cap, who’s rolled up behind me. His weathered face and stoic expression fool nobody. Underneath that rough exterior is a man who cares deeply. I can’t think of a better father for Rosie and Bass than him. He nods at me. “Can I have a word?”
I scratch my wrist. This is one of the goodbyes I’ve been dreading, but there’s no more avoiding it now. With a hard lump in my throat, I slide my tray to Rosie and follow Cap out of the mess hall.
“If you’re not careful, Rosie might eat you out of a house,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets as we reach the hallway.
Cap chuckles, then pivots his chair around, his demeanor turning serious. “I wanted to tell you something befo
re you left.”
I scuff my shoe against the floor, waiting for him to say what he’s going to say. You’d think I’d know better. This is Cap. He won’t speak a word until I’ve given him some eye contact. When I look, his silver eyes are fierce. And if I’m not mistaken, a little dewy.
“You’re a remarkable soldier, kid.”
I blink several times, but this stinging in my eye is a stubborn thing.
“You fought the good fight, all the way ’til the end. Even when it was impossible. You made me proud. And there’s nobody else I’d rather have on my side.”
I look down at my shoes.
“Even if you do drive me crazy half the time.”
I laugh. And sniff.
“You know you’ll always have family in Detroit.”
I bob my head, mostly to keep my emotion in check, and then I bend over and give him a hug. I think it surprises us both. “Thank you,” I whisper into his ear, his whiskers scratching against my cheek. “For everything.”
Cap pats my back a couple times, wishes me safe travels, and one of my two goodbyes is over. On my way to the barracks, I spot Claire standing in front of the general store, a small duffel bag strapped around her shoulder as she hugs Ashley and Danielle. She was there in the end. So was Clive. They risked their lives to fight.
She catches my eye over Danielle’s shoulder and pauses.
I lift my hand—a simple, resigned wave. A peace offering. One she returns. While I will never ever be her fan or her friend, I suppose Cap is right. Maybe one horrible choice doesn’t have to define us forever. Maybe it’s the choice we make next that matters more.
When I reach my room, Joanna is inside zipping one of her bags shut.
I stare at my bed. Everybody’s been stripping their rooms, putting sheets and comforters and towels and other random things into a makeshift supply room. I pull the fitted sheet off my mattress and begin folding it into a tidy square. It’s a trick my mother taught me—how to neatly fold a fitted sheet. Something I could write on the front of my file. A useful skill. One I hope to be using a lot more than my others. “What do you think will happen to this place?”
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