In the Afterlight (Bonus Content)

by Alexandra Bracken

  The door creaked open behind us again. Chubs shrank back against the wall as Vida came strolling out, her shoulders set back, head of mussed purple hair held high—the curl of her swollen lips gave her a look of smug satisfaction. Liam stepped back, letting her by.

  Vida didn’t say a thing; she simply dropped Chubs’s jacket over his head as she passed, letting it hang there. He waited until the sound of her boots against the tile had faded before sinking down onto the ground. Chubs kept the jacket pressed to his face, looking for all the world like he was trying to suffocate himself.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “She’s going to kill me. Actually kill me.”

  “Wait…” Liam began, not bothering to hide the grin on his face. I put a hand on his shoulder, afraid he’d start jumping up and down in total and complete glee. “Are you…?”

  Chubs finally lowered the jacket. And, after a deep breath, nodded.

  Well, I thought, surprised at my lack of surprise. Well, well, well…

  “Wow…I mean, wow. I think my brain is going to start leaking out of my ears,” Liam said, pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Chubsie, but I’m so confused, but I’m proud, but I think I need to lie down.”

  “How long has this been going on?” I asked. “You haven’t…you’re not…?”

  One look of mortification told me everything I needed to know. They had. They were. Liam choked a bit at that.

  “What?” Chubs demanded. “It’s a…it’s a perfectly normal human response to—to stressors. And it’s winter, you know, and when you’re sleeping in a car or tent it can be freezing…actually, you know what? It’s none of your business.”

  “It is if you’re being stupid about it,” Liam said.

  “Excuse me, but I’ve known about contraception since I was—”

  “Not what I meant,” Liam said quickly, holding up his hands. “Not at all what I meant, but, uh, good to know.”

  I crouched down in front of Chubs, putting a hand on his arm. “I think what he was trying to say was, if this doesn’t pan out, or one of you gets hurt, it’d be hard to take.”

  “Oh, you mean like if she erased my memory, forcing me to keep a little fact sheet of who I am in case she does it again?” The minute it left his mouth, I could tell he wanted it back inside his head, where the thought belonged. That alone eased the sting.

  “Hey…” Liam warned.

  “No, it’s fair,” I said. “I know you can handle it, but Vi’s been…well, the people in her life really put her through the wringer. You’ll be careful with her heart, right?”

  “There are no hearts involved in this arrangement,” he reassured me, which wasn’t actually reassuring, let alone believable in any way. “It’s…coping.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And she doesn’t need anyone to protect her or fight her battles for her, got it?” he added, looking between us. The fierceness deflated somewhat. “God, she’s going to kill me for blowing this. We haven’t even been back for a week…You won’t tell anyone, right?”

  “Vida’s the kind of person who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what others think,” Liam pointed out. “A quality I greatly admire in her.”

  “Are you saying she asked you to keep this quiet because she’s embarrassed?” I said. “Embarrassed of being with you?”

  “She didn’t say it outright, but it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe she just wants to keep it between the two of you for now because it’s so new,” I added. “Or because it really is no one else’s business, even ours.”

  “You’re a great catch, buddy,” Liam finished. “It’s not you. And she can’t be that mad, anyway, seeing as it’s only the two of us who know, and we’d only ever tell each other. And maybe a G-rated version to Zu. But, man, give yourself some credit. Obviously you’ve got something she likes if she’s jumping your bones.”

  “Liam Michael Stewart, wordsmith and poet,” Chubs said, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from the ground. I watched him as he fell silent, wringing his hands, trying our line of logic out. A shadow passed over his expression, one that had me wondering what he was thinking—or remembering. In the end, he shook his head. “I’m not…I mean, I don’t have delusions of grandeur about this stuff. I know who I am and who she is, and I know it’s like putting an apple next to an onion. Whatever. We have an understanding.”

  Liam gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “Anyway, good night,” Chubs said. “Don’t stay up too late. You’re leaving tomorrow morning, don’t forget.”

  Liam waited until Chubs had disappeared around the corner at the other end of the hall before turning to me, not even trying to hide his grin. “You wanna go build some shelves with me?”

  I held out my hand for him to take, leading him back down toward the right door. It was almost painful, I thought, to have a heart so swollen with gratitude and what must have been pure, untainted happiness. I wanted to live inside the feeling forever.

  If nothing else, this one thing—this one choice—wasn’t made under pressure, or fear, or even desperation. It was something I wanted. To be as close to him as I could, with nothing standing between us. I wanted to show him the things that my words were too clumsy, too self-conscious, to really convey.

  Neither of us were laughing now; the moment drew me closer to him, winding something up inside of me, making my heart feel weightless with anticipation. His eyes were dark, suddenly serious with the real question. I reached up and brushed an unruly lock of hair off his forehead before I tilted my face, brushing my lips softly against his, a question of my own. Liam let out a sweet, soft sigh, and nodded. I pulled him inside the room and managed to tear myself away long enough to lock the door behind us and take a breath.

  Liam sat at the edge of the bed, his shape bright against the dark. He held out a hand and whispered, “Come here.”

  I swayed a little on my feet as I stepped into the circle of his waiting arms, watching his slow smile. I brushed the hair away from his face, knowing he was waiting for me. This whole time, from the moment we met, he’d been waiting for me to realize he’d known me all along, and he had never once wanted me to change.

  “The you that you were then, who you are now, who you’ll be,” he began quietly, as if sensing my thoughts, “I love you. With my whole heart. My whole life, however long I’m lucky enough to get, nothing will change for me.”

  His voice sounded raw, flooded with the same searing feeling racing through me. The relief, the certainty, the overwhelming gratitude I felt that fate had given him to me, all burned my eyes, left me unable to speak again. So I kissed him and told him that way, over and over again between breaths, as he moved over me, inside of me, until there was nothing in the world beyond us and the promise of forever.

  THE NEXT MORNING, HE WOKE ME WITH A KISS, AND THEN ANOTHER, UNTIL THE WARM, LAZY FOG DISPELLED AND I WAS FORCED BACK INTO REALITY. Liam pulled away with reluctance and reached for his clothes on the floor to start dressing. I watched him for a moment, amazed at how calm and peaceful I felt—like knowing he wanted and loved the whole me unconditionally had finally and fully brought the pieces of me back into alignment. He centered me so completely, and there was something so beautifully simple and straightforward in what I felt for him. Even something like this, something so important, had been simple for me.

  Finally, seeing his amused look as he turned around, I forced myself to get up, too. I couldn’t put off any longer the fact that he was leaving, but it didn’t mean I didn’t try as I caught him for one last, long kiss at the door.

  Liam and I were the first ones to the tunnel’s entrance that morning, even after he took a detour to grab food from the kitchen and shower. He had just gone back downstairs to say good-bye to Chubs and the others when Cole appeared at my left, stepping out of Alban’s old office. Just before the door shut, he caught it with his foot and held it open, looking around the room. His whole body seem
ed drawn with exhaustion, and there was a fresh cut on his left cheek.

  I pointed to the spot on his face. “What happened here?”

  “Ugh.” Cole rolled his eyes, gave a small laugh. “In a move straight out of Lee’s playbook, I rolled over in bed this morning and hit the dresser. Already killing it this morning.”

  “You actually slept?” I asked. He turned toward me, and the answer was clear enough. I knew it had to happen, that he couldn’t go much longer without telling his brother the truth, but having kept secrets myself, I still felt guilty for putting him in that position last night. “Everything…okay?”

  “Everything’s okay,” he said. “Felt better than I thought it would, to be honest. Liam’s not the best litmus test, though—the kid would love the hell out of a one-eyed, three-legged, bald dog if it wagged its tail in his direction. Had to do my little trick for him a good five times before he believed I wasn’t hiding a lighter in my palm.”

  Cole hefted a black duffel bag over his shoulder, its contents rattling ominously.

  “Have enough guns in there?”

  “Purely precautionary,” he said with a wink.

  “It better be. This is surveillance, not an assault, remember?”

  “Aw, Gem, don’t worry.” Cole brought his free hand around the back of my skull, smoothing my hair down along its curve. “I’ll have him back by tonight.”

  I pushed him away, rolling my eyes. “I mean it. Please…just be careful.”

  “You, too,” he said. “Sorry to leave you to deal with the Little Prince again. If he acts up, don’t be afraid to send him to bed without dinner. And double-check that the teams going to the water treatment facilities have everything they need before they head out.”

  “Got it.”

  “Harry said he’d try to check in tonight around eight. If we’re not back by then, can you ask him to lock down another five pounds of C-four? Tell him I looked into hiring the buses to take everyone back east and it’s a no-go.”

  “Got it,” I said, already eager for Harry to get here at the end of the week, because it would mean finally seeing Cate. “Did you get the phone from Nico?”

  Alice couldn’t bear to be parted from her fancy camera, even for this, and there wasn’t time to get another one. Nico had programmed a cell phone to automatically upload the photographs they snapped of the building and send them back to us.

  Cole looked down at his watch, then over my head down the hall where the others had just appeared. “Taking his sweet-ass time this morning, isn’t he?”

  “Or someone’s a little too impatient to get going,” I pointed out.

  “Just ready,” he said. “Can we pick up the pace a little, Sunshine? It looks like a cat threw you back up.”

  “Better than you—you look like you came out the other end.”

  Cole chuckled. “Got me there.”

  I grabbed Liam’s arm as he passed me on his way to the tunnel door, kissing his cheek. “See you later tonight.”

  He stepped down into the tunnel, shouldering a backpack Cole had left for him there. When I turned to say good-bye to the other Stewart, he’d stooped, turned his cheek toward me, and was waiting. I flicked it with my finger, making him laugh again.

  “You’re impossible,” I informed him.

  “It’s all part of my charm,” he said, shifting the heavy bag on his shoulder. “Take care of things, Boss.”

  “Take care of him,” I said, pointedly.

  He gave one last mock salute before shutting the door to the tunnel. I waited until the sound of his and the others’ steps faded completely before locking the door after him.

  For a moment, I was tempted to go back to sleep—just showering and crashing for a few more hours sounded better than it had any right to. It already felt like a long day, and it had only just begun.

  At around two in the afternoon, I realized I was being followed.

  She never spoke, and she stayed well away, but Lillian Gray was there, observing from a safe distance. It made my skin crawl, the way her eyes were always assessing.

  Dr. Gray was there, watching the training through the windows of the gym; hovering outside of the computer room; leaving the kitchen just as I was coming in. It took me another two hours to realize that it was likely she was trying to work up the courage to ask me something. And even then, it was only because Alice pulled me aside after harassing the woman into a short interview and told me, point-blank: “She wants to see her kid.”

  Seeing my expression, Alice added, “Look, I don’t have any kids of my own, so I can’t exactly give you insight as to how a woman’s brain can get rewired to unconditionally love the same little dirtbag that scrambled her brains, but I have a feeling she’ll be a lot warmer toward us if she gets her way.”

  “Did she give you anything you could actually use?” I asked as we walked back toward the big room.

  “She’s a true politician’s wife,” Alice said ruefully. “She talked for two hours and managed to say nothing useful. Any interest in sitting down with me for a chat, by the way?”

  “Not even a word about the president?” I asked, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. That was what worried me most about this arrangement—Dr. Gray had made the arrangement with Alban to help Clancy, and she’d done it behind her husband’s back. As far as we knew, they hadn’t been in contact for years, but we had no sense of how she really felt toward the man. His name came up, and she shut down.

  “I think she’ll talk—she’ll give me the smoking gun on how long, exactly, the president has known about Agent Ambrosia—but not for free. Is there any way—”

  “No,” I said, firmly. “It’s not a good idea.” Clancy had been reasonably well behaved up until now. I didn’t want to tempt fate by even hinting his mother was nearby.

  “Liam would say yes.”

  “Good thing he isn’t here.”

  Alice’s look of irritation morphed into one of amusement. “You’re the boss, lady. I’ll figure out another way to get her talking before I leave tonight.”

  “Are you all set for the trip?”

  “We should be fine. Our water treatment facility isn’t too far away, otherwise we would have left early this morning like the others.”

  I had no idea if Alice told the other woman that I was the roadblock, but it was about an hour later that Dr. Gray found me in the kitchen, slowly and reluctantly pulling together a meal for Clancy. One look at the rapidly depleting pantry stock had taken my mind off her until, like an unwanted chill, she stepped inside the kitchen and shut the door behind her.

  “If you’ve been following me in the hope that I’ll slip up and reveal where he is, you’re going to be disappointed. And,” I added, “you’re delaying his meal.”

  Her mouth tightened into a flat, bloodless line. Everything about this family was cold and distant, wasn’t it? With both this woman and her son, it felt like I was constantly walking on my toes, trying to keep my balance.

  “He has a mild nut allergy,” she said, nodding toward the open container of peanut butter I’d scraped clean. “And he doesn’t like Granny Smith apples.”

  Instead of being touched by this demonstration of motherly concern, I felt my expression rearrange itself into one of total and complete exasperation.

  I actually bit my tongue to keep from saying, He’s lucky he gets any food at all.

  “I suppose Miss Wells told you about my request, then?”

  Miss Wells…oh. Alice. I cut the sandwich in half and turned to walk the knife over to the sink. She was still there, watching me expectantly, when I walked back over. “Yes, she did. I’m surprised you even asked.”

  “Why?”

  “Do I really have to remind you about what happened the last time he saw you?” I asked. “You’re lucky you walked away with your life.”

  Finally, a crack appeared. “Clancy would never kill me. He’s not capable of it. I realize how deeply troubled he is, but it’s because he was never able to
get the emotional help he needed after he left that camp.”

  “Plenty of us went into those camps,” I said. “Not all of us turned out like him.”

  Dr. Gray held my gaze a second too long for it to feel comfortable. “Is that so?”

  I felt myself straighten to my full height, ignoring the familiar stab of guilt.

  “Yes,” I said coldly. She doesn’t believe me. At all.

  “You should know that I have always disagreed with the rehabilitation camp program, even before it turned into what it is today,” Dr. Gray said. “I have never liked my husband’s foreign policy, nor can I comprehend the extreme action he took in California. But if he were to give me the facility and materials I need to perform the procedure on my son, it wouldn’t even be a decision. I would go back to him in a heartbeat. I would do that, for Clancy.”

  I almost felt sorry for her. The simple truth was that the camps didn’t damage us all in the same way. If you spent your time there feeling small and terrified, once you stepped outside of the electric fence, you didn’t just stand up tall one day and resume your old life, forgetting the desperation you’d had to make yourself invisible. If you spent your time there simmering in your own anger and helplessness, that rage carried over; you took it with you into your new life.

  It was disturbing to me how clearly I could see Clancy’s point now. His mother really had no idea what they had done to him at Thurmond. How could someone who participated in, or at least viewed, the research conducted on the Psi kids have no conception of the kind of pain or humiliation he went through?

  “You realize that giving him the procedure won’t fix him, right?” I asked. “Not in the way that really matters to you.”

  “He won’t be able to influence anyone,” she insisted. “He’ll come back to himself.”

  The idea was too ridiculous to even laugh at.