by Dan Wells
He decided to be direct, at least in part. Maybe they could trust Calix more than Kira thought. “We’re trying to help the Partials,” he said. “They have a problem of their own, a sickness that’s killing them, and if we can cure it, it might mean a chance at peace between our species. That’s why we came to the ParaGen complex, to see if we could find something to help us—and to help them.”
“You’ll have to talk to Dr. Vale,” said Calix. “He knows all kinds of stuff about RM and disease. Maybe he knows something about what’s happening to the Partials.”
“We have very similar doctors at home,” said Samm, thinking of Morgan. Do Vale and Morgan know each other? Is Vale truly a part of the Trust?
“But Dr. Vale cured RM,” said Calix, “like, twelve years ago. Your doctors haven’t been able to do that yet.”
“Does that seem odd to you?” asked Samm. “He had a cure for RM almost as soon as it appeared? Within weeks?”
“I guess no one really asked,” said Calix. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting . . . that he had sinister motives? How could saving people’s lives be sinister?”
If he already had a cure prepared before the Break, Samm thought, and kept it for himself and his “Preserve.” But the rest of the Trust didn’t have it, did they? Morgan or Nandita, or Trimble from B Company—where was their cure? It didn’t make sense, and Samm found the discrepancy intensely troubling. There was more going on here than he could grasp, and he didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry you had to live so long without a cure,” said Calix, leaving Bobo and stepping toward Samm. “Naturally immune or not, that must have been horrible, to watch everyone you know die, to watch all those babies, year after year. . . .”
“Yes, it must have been,” said Samm, almost immediately realizing what he’d said—his phrasing made him sound like an outsider from the human society. But Calix didn’t seem to notice; instead she took his hand in her own, rough and calloused but warm and gentle. He tried to smooth over the mistake with a firmer statement. “Every infant has died since the Break.”
“You have no children at all?” There was a look of deep sadness in her eyes as she contemplated the life in East Meadow. “No wonder Kira seemed so overwhelmed.” She paused a moment, looking at Samm’s hand. “Are you . . . ? Are you and Kira . . . ?”
“Leaving?” asked Samm.
“Together?” asked Calix. “Are you . . . married? Dating?”
Samm shook his head. “No.” But before he could say another word, Calix was kissing him, her lips pressed against his, soft and supple, her body warm against him and her arm wrapped behind his head, pulling them closer together. Samm froze in surprise, his brain melting under the sensation of her lips, but he regained control and gently pushed her away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good at this.”
“I could teach you.”
“I mean, I’m not very good at communicating,” said Samm. “I don’t always understand . . . It’s not important. What I mean to say is I’m sorry if I . . . led you to believe something I shouldn’t have.”
Calix’s face was a mix of surprise and confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You seemed . . . interested.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I think I’m in love. . . .” He paused. “I don’t think she even knows.”
Calix laughed, a hollow sound that seemed more sad than amused. She wiped a tear from her eye and laughed again. “Well. I look like a big stupid idiot now, don’t I?”
“I’m the idiot,” said Samm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s very kind of you to say,” said Calix. She took a deep breath and shook her head, wiping another tear. “If you could do me a favor and not tell anyone I, uh, threw myself at you like a moron, that would be very kind as well.”
“Of course,” said Samm. He felt suddenly embarrassed to be looking at her, and cast around for something else to occupy his eyes. He chose the floor, and stared at it awkwardly. “You’re much more forward than she is.”
“Apparently so,” said Calix. Samm watched out of the corner of his eye as she walked back to the horses. “You crossed the entire continent together, and yet neither of you ever made a move?” She huffed another short, hollow laugh. “No wonder you don’t have any children.”
“That’s not the reason,” Samm began, but Calix cut him off with another nervous laugh.
“I know, I know, it was just a stupid joke. I’m sorry, I’m really making an ass of myself today, aren’t I? Good old Calix.”
“You’re very attractive,” said Samm.
Calix groaned. “That’s not what I want you to say right now.”
Samm felt terrible, first because she felt terrible, and more so because he didn’t know how to talk to her. Damn link, he thought. I know how to talk to Partial girls, but humans are so . . . He rolled his eyes. They’re like a whole different species. He felt horrible for giving Calix signals he wasn’t aware he was giving, and now he couldn’t even console her.
“I wish I knew what to say,” he said. “I’m really, like I said, a terrible communicator. I’m not good at talking—”
“It’s okay,” said Calix quickly.
“It’s not okay,” said Samm. “I’m sick of it. I want to be better at this, but I’m just not built for it. I didn’t want to cross an entire continent with Kira without ever saying anything, but I did, because I don’t know how to say it. There are a lot of things I’m stuck with, but . . . I’m just sorry. I am.”
He looked up, and saw that Calix had stopped her work on the horses and was staring back at him. Her voice was soft. “What is it you want to say to Kira?”
Samm stood still, emoting a thousand different bits of data that Calix didn’t even know were there. Right now wasn’t the time to say things like this to Kira, they had more important things to do. And yet . . . Kira thinks I’m a statue, he thought. An emotionless mannequin. He deliberately imitated the signs of sadness and resignation he’d seen in other humans, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. A sigh. “I don’t know what she wants,” he said at last. “You made your intentions clear. Kira is a mystery to me.”
“You don’t know if she loves you back.”
“We’re too different,” said Samm. It was hard to talk without saying too much. “I don’t know if she wants . . . what I am.”
“Sure,” said Calix. “For all we know, she might really get turned off by handsome, competent, kindhearted guys.”
“You’re very kind,” said Samm.
“Lot of good it’s doing me,” said Calix. She sighed as well, moving away from the horses and sitting cross-legged on an old, weathered table. “Look. You and Kira was not the relationship I’d hoped to be discussing today, but I’ve done this enough times with Phan that I’m pretty sure I’ve got some pointers you could use. First of all, everything you said about not knowing what she wants? She feels exactly the same way—I haven’t talked to her or anything, but I guarantee it. Ironclad. I’ve been watching you ever since you came into town, and you never gave a single sign that you were interested in her. That’s why I made a move. If I couldn’t tell, neither can she.”
“I’m very bad at commu—”
“I know,” said Calix firmly. “I am very quickly becoming an expert in how bad a communicator you are. We’ve established that, and we’re moving past it. Step two: You said you were grateful to me for being so up-front about my feelings, and frankly, I’m grateful to you for being up-front about yours. Once I forced it out of you. I’d rather know how you feel than hope and wonder and delude myself for weeks on end—which is exactly what she’s been doing.”
“You can’t know that,” said Samm.
“Of course I can,” said Calix. “Not everyone’s as bad at this as you are, Samm. Anyone with eyes to see can tell she’s got a thing for you.”
Samm stood stock-still, but any Partial linking with him would have been stopped short by the intensity of his emotions. He wonde
red if it was true—if Kira really had feelings for him, a Partial, one who’d attacked her people, betrayed her to a madwoman, and caused her more trouble than he cared to think about. A man with barely a year left to live before the Partial expiration date erased his life and his future in a single stroke. He didn’t think it was possible.
“She has a boyfriend,” said Samm. “Another medic, back in New York.”
“New York’s pretty far away.”
“But we’re going back.”
“And if you get all the way back there without saying anything, you deserve to lose her,” said Calix.
Samm couldn’t help but agree with that. “Marcus makes her laugh,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
“You could always try just lunging in for a kiss,” said Calix with a wry smile. “Didn’t work so hot for me, but you never know.”
“I don’t think that’s my style.”
“Your style is silent celibacy,” said Calix, “and I can guarantee that won’t work either. Just talk to her.”
“I talk to her all the time.”
“Then start saying the right things,” said Calix.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Vale still won’t see us,” said Kira. They were sitting in a small park—a cluster of picnic tables in a small grove of trees in the Preserve. Samm and Calix had returned in time for lunch, and Calix had abandoned them almost immediately to play a game of football with a larger group of teens on the field nearby. Phan was playing with them as well, and paused every few plays to cajole Kira and Samm into joining them, but Kira had too much to discuss, and welcomed the relative privacy. Samm, for his part, seemed even more quiet than normal, but Kira took this as a renewed focus on the task at hand. He insisted that Calix wasn’t hiding any secret motives, but said little else about their trip into the ruins.
“Vale is obviously hiding something,” Kira continued, “and even if we sit around waiting for him to give us the meeting he promised, he’ll probably just give us another runaround. He’s hiding something, and I don’t like it, and we still haven’t heard anything from Heron, and I’m sick of it. It’s time to go to the spire.” She glanced at it, a tall black peak jutting up behind the other buildings. “Phan took me around earlier, just kind of showing me the complex, and some of the buildings get pretty close to it. We could get most of the way there without arousing any suspicion and then, I don’t know, try to sneak in without anyone noticing. I honestly don’t know if anyone would even care—Phan said it was structurally unsound after the Partial bombings, but they don’t exactly seem nervous living next to it. They don’t really seem to think of it at all.”
“Is there a fence?” asked Samm.
“A low wall,” said Kira, “mostly made of junk and old furniture. They’re trying to keep the kids from wandering in by accident, but they don’t seem to have any active security—that’s pretty typical of this society as a whole. They don’t expect anyone to attack, or rebel, or break the law at all, and as far as I can tell, no one ever does.”
“And naturally this makes you suspicious,” said Samm.
“That would make anyone suspicious,” said Kira. “There is no perfect society—there’s always going to be unrest, or criminals, or something sinister underneath, making it run. Maybe Vale is using some kind of mind control to keep everyone in line. Like the link, but for humans.” Samm looked at her with a reasonable attempt at skepticism on his face. She smirked. “I don’t know, but it’s something.”
There was a cry of triumph from the field, and Kira looked up to see half the football players jumping in excitement. A young man was lying on the ground, moaning softly, the ball lying next to him, and Calix was walking away from what appeared to be a brutal tackle, a small dribble of blood on her cheek. Kira’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. I had no idea she was that intense.”
“She’s got some stuff to work through,” said Samm. He narrowed his eyes as he peered at the field. “I hope she doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Now’s our chance,” said Kira, putting a hand on his arm. “Wait till they set up for another run, and then follow me. If we go behind these trees and left to that building, we’ll be out of sight before they even notice we’re gone.”
“And if somebody else sees us?”
“We’ve never been specifically forbidden,” said Kira. “If somebody sees us, we play the ‘new folks in town’ card and thank them for keeping us out of a dangerous building, then we regroup and go back at night. But if there’s even a chance we can get in now, I want to at least try.”
“Okay,” said Samm. “You armed?”
“Semiautomatic in the back of my waistband.”
“Ankle holster,” said Samm. “Here’s hoping we won’t need them.” They sat in silence, watching the game; Phan got on the line of scrimmage, ready to run, not pausing as he had so often to call Kira and Samm into the game. The rest of the players lined up as well, the quarterback called hike, and Kira and Samm slipped away. They were around the corner before the play had even finished.
“This way,” said Kira, and led Samm along the building toward the center of the complex. The spire reared up behind the building, so tall it was visible from almost anywhere in the Preserve. People said hello to them here and there, but nobody Kira recognized from her brief tour with Phan. She waved back, hoping no one would stop them for conversation, and no one did. Two buildings later they were at the edge of the large central clearing. Beyond them was the low wall, a mishmash of broken tables and filing cabinets and here and there a boulder or a fallen tree, and beyond that was the massive, blackened shape of the ParaGen spire. The outer wall was a lot like so many other skyscrapers Kira had seen—once covered with windows, now a checkerboard skeleton of shattered glass and dangling wreckage—but unlike those other buildings, this one had been directly attacked and then pounded with years of corrosive rain, and portions of it were blackened or twisted or pocked with grotesque holes. It was also shaped oddly, tapering into weird juts and angles that might once have looked modern and beautiful, but now only added to its strange, brooding menace. Kira could almost imagine she saw lights inside, and imagined for a fleeting moment that they were the ghosts of old office workers, still toiling endlessly in their forgotten tomb. She chided herself for being silly, and thought of more plausible explanations. Was the power that still ran the complex still running in the spire as well? What was left in there to be powered? The clearing looked blocked and overgrown, as if no one had entered the building in years.
“Heron was here,” said Samm.
“Was or still is?”
“The data’s too faint to tell,” said Samm.
“Now we know Vale’s hiding something,” said Kira. She looked around. “If we can make it over the wall, we’ll be completely hidden in the underbrush beyond,” said Kira. “We can probably get in without being seen.”
“It would be better to wait for night.”
“And have Phan and Calix tied to our necks again?” asked Kira. “This is the best chance we’ll ever have.” She looked around. “I don’t see anyone else—they’re all eating lunch, or playing football, or whatever these people do in this creepy place.”
“It’s called ‘living normal lives.’”
“And it could all just be a show for our benefit,” said Kira.
“Do you really think . . .” Samm shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” said Kira softly, feeling the sudden weight of their never-ending quest crushing down on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
“You know I believe in this as much as you do,” said Samm. “Other people’s normal lives are what make our crazy ones worthwhile.”
Kira felt a flush of emotion. “I promise you that as soon as we’re done saving the world, we’ll eat lunch and play football.”
“Deal,” said Samm.
Kira looked back at the spire. “Ready?”
“Try to k
eep up,” said Samm. He looked around for observers, then looked back at the spire and narrowed his eyes. “Go.”
They sprinted across the open clearing, dodging the stumps of fallen trees that dotted the lawn. Samm reached the wall first, vaulting over into the tall desert grass beyond; Kira followed, dropping to the ground in the tall brush. They held still, listening for cries of pursuit or alarm, but Kira heard nothing.
Samm was panting.
“Are you winded?” Kira whispered. “I didn’t think you could even get winded.”
“We’re still weak from crossing the wasteland,” said Samm. “Our bodies aren’t functioning at peak capacity.”
“I’m fine,” said Kira.
“So am I,” said Samm. “Let’s go.”
They crawled on their bellies through the underbrush, staying out of sight below the tall grass. Samm seemed back to normal again, and Kira forged ahead, determined to reach the building as quickly as possible—hidden or not, they could still be discovered until they were inside and away from prying eyes. Soon she grew nervous, afraid that the slow pace of crawling was taking too long, and rose up to a crouch to take a peek above the grass. The Preserve complex seemed quiet and still. She dropped back to her hands and knees and scuttled forward more quickly, the building now nearly in reach. Samm followed, his face grim and determined. When they reached the building he was breathing oddly again, not panting but taking long, slow breaths.
