Julian sets me back on my feet and drags me into the corridor, toward the other hives and away from the isolation plains.
“Why are we backtracking?” I struggle against his firm grip. “We need to meet up with the others. . . .” I have to know that at least Virginia is okay, even as I admit to myself that Beckah is a lost cause.
Julian doesn’t stop but ducks into another hive, surveying the damage. “What we need to do is lie low. Get you into a chamber and calmed down.”
I go limp, stop fighting him. It doesn’t matter anymore. Julian always seems to get his way. “I’m calm. You can let go now.”
He regards me with skepticism but complies.
I massage the skin of my forearm and then yank the cuff of my sweater back over my wrist. “Thanks.”
Detecting movement on the horizon in the direction of the hives, I squint to get a better look. It’s a pair of humans, like us. I materialize binocular glasses and then gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Julian knocks me into a recess between hives. “What did you see?” he demands.
“They’re humans . . . but . . . I think they’re infected with that rage river virus Eli was taking about.” I shiver. “They’re shuffling around and sniffing at the air.”
Then we hear it, a bone-shattering roar of rage.
Julian curses under his breath. “They saw us!”
I peek out from my hiding place and see the infected drones racing at us, their eyes popping out with rage, their mouths foaming and spitting. At their pace they’ll be upon us within seconds.
“Get a weapon!” Julian commands, materializing a bow and a quiver of arrows. He strings the first arrow and aims at the head of the larger drone. The arrow pierces his eye, causing him to stumble. But not fall.
As Julian strings his second arrow, I look at him in a daze. I can’t think.
“Felicia! Do you want them to infect you, too?” His second arrow hits the man’s other eye, but even blinded he keeps coming.
I steady myself and will giant-size darts into my hands. The man is innocent, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t know how else to keep him from attacking us. I call up a burst of energy and heave it forward to slam the smaller man to the ground. Then I send the five darts flying, pinning him down to incapacitate him. My aim is true. The man roars and spits, his limbs popping and jerking so wildly, I have to think of a slab of bacon frying in a skillet.
Julian has shot the blinded man a third time—through the forehead—but it hasn’t even slowed him down. He’s close, leaping and tearing at the air, poised to strike at Julian. Julian drops his bow and materializes a sword. When the man claws toward Julian’s face, Julian lops off his head in a clean slice.
I cautiously approach the man I peppered with darts. Despite all his gurgling, moaning, and hissing—and the prominent veins straining against his skin like cords ready to burst—I can recognize him as a man in his late twenties. Someone’s son. Someone’s boyfriend or husband. Maybe even someone’s father. He’s a chilling testimony to how far the Morati are willing to go.
“Chop off his head, and he’ll disappear,” says Julian, coming over and putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “See, the other guy is dissolving into nothingness as we speak.” He offers me his sword.
“To cycle back through again, right?”
“Probably. But with everything that’s been changing around here, I honestly don’t know what the rules are anymore.”
My eyes flit back and forth between the man’s eerie, possessed eyes and the sword. Is it better to leave him here or put him out of his misery? I take Julian’s sword and raise it above the man’s head, but I can’t do it. My conscience won’t let me. Instead I let the sword clatter to the ground.
“He’s a goner either way. Even if you don’t strike the killing blow . . . you contributed.”
“Let’s just go,” I say, unable to look at the man again.
Julian sighs. He picks up the sword, and the man’s god-awful cries cease. I can’t believe Julian can be so calm about killing two people, especially when my nerves are run ragged. I mean sure, technically they’re already dead, but he was so casual about it, so steady, it makes me wonder if he’s killed before.
“I don’t like this at all,” he says. His whole body is on alert as he scans our surroundings. “Scanner drones should have picked up their activity and headed this way. . . . Something’s up.”
“Maybe the scanner drones are otherwise occupied,” I suggest. “Taking Virginia back to their lair.”
“Don’t worry so much. I told you she’ll be fine!” He nudges me toward a still intact hive, and we enter.
Julian materializes the same eggplant-colored sofa I’ve come to know so well. I sink into it, and Julian sits beside me, propping up my chin with his knuckles. He tries to catch my eye, but I refuse to look at him. “You’re safe,” he says.
“For now. But for how long?” Everything is falling apart, and I can barely hold myself together anymore.
Julian pulls me into an embrace, rocks me slowly, kisses the top of my head. “Shhh . . . We’ll lie low here for a while and then join everyone at base. They’re fine. You’ll see.”
“Beckah definitely won’t be fine.”
“No,” he agrees. “Beckah’s gone. A victim of the war. She was your friend and you honor her with your courage, but you have to let her go now.”
“You have no right to comfort me,” I say, lashing out at him. “You helped do this to her.”
Julian sighs. “I told you, I didn’t know about that.” He crosses his heart and then hovers his finger above my heart, making the same motions. “If it had been up to me, I would have done things differently.”
“Oh, yeah?” I scoff, disbelieving. “Like what?”
He shifts his weight and settles in next to me. “Well, first of all, I would have come for you a lot sooner.”
I finally ask the question that has gnawed at me forever. “Why did you leave that night at the Irish pub? You didn’t even say good-bye.”
“Do you have regrets?” he asks, his voice raw. “If you could go back and do one thing differently, what would you change?”
Just one thing? Hard to say with all the mistakes I’ve made. But I know the most likely answer is one Julian won’t want to hear. “Autumn and I should’ve never gone to the sushi restaurant that day,” I say carefully, not looking over at him. “I should have never met you.”
I steel myself for an angry outburst, but Julian merely chuckles. “Not that I really want to bring up my competition, but you do know that if you’d never met me, you might have never met Neil. You see, I am a part of you . . . like it or not.”
I nod, conceding his point, but hating that he knows so much about me. “So what would you do differently?” I ask.
He leans in closer. “I wouldn’t have left you that night,” he says so softly, I have to strain to hear him. “At the time, I thought I had to go, that it would be better to make a clean break.”
“That’s your big regret?” I ask, incredulous. “I can’t imagine I was ever that important to you.”
He reaches over and touches my cheek, turning my head toward his. “Do you even realize the effect you have on me?” His voice cracks with emotion. “I tried to forget about you. To go on living my life. But I never could.”
Julian’s confession shocks me, but it doesn’t change anything. I lift my hand to his on my cheek and pull it away gently. “Don’t do this, Julian. You know I love Neil.”
“Wait. So tell me this . . .” He regards me with a calculating expression. “Do you really think, if you hadn’t died, you’d still be with Neil? I mean, you didn’t know him long enough to say definitively that you’d be together forever. You were only seventeen. You don’t go making lifelong commitments at that age.”
Ahh . . . another of his ploys to push me off balance. But I never have allowed myself to question my love for Neil. I won’t start now. It’s the kind of thing that can drive you
crazy if you’ve had enough time to think about it. And I have. Centuries, at least, by the feel of it.
Instead of answering Julian, I place his hand in his lap and get up, turning away from him because I don’t want to see his reaction. I have an overwhelming urge to visit Neil, to find comfort in my memories of him. I slip into a chamber and pull up a memory.
Ward, Felicia. Memory #32689
Tags: Ohio, Neil, True love waits
Number of Views: 67
Owner Rating: 3 stars
User Rating: 2 stars
“You think I should go up in front of the whole church and sign the card, don’t you?” I huff, turning down the volume on the radio.
Neil flips the turn signal and smoothly changes lanes. “I don’t think that. Some ‘concerned congregation members’ think that. Maybe Pastor Joe thinks that.” He reaches over and rubs my knee. “I think you should do what you’re comfortable with.”
I stare at the road ahead in silence. Our meeting with Pastor Joe has upset me greatly. Why do people have to get into our private business? Why do they need me to make some public pledge to save my virginity for marriage? We’ve been together fewer than six weeks, and already they suspect me of corrupting Neil? Sure we’ve “slept together,” if you count our increasingly frequent afternoon naps in Neil’s bed, but it has never been anything more than innocent cuddling and kissing. I’ve yet to even see him without his shirt, for God’s sake.
I pull the book Pastor Joe gave me from my bag. “Passion and Purity,” I read the title aloud and then thumb through it in disgust. I remember the title from one of my discussions with Savannah. She swears by it. She even told me, without a trace of irony, that “Thou shalt remain a virgin until marriage” is the lost eleventh commandment. I shove the book back into my bag. Neil doesn’t comment.
“And how do they know if I even am a virgin anymore? I can’t pledge something I don’t have,” I say, kicking at the floorboard under my feet.
But when I glance over at Neil and see how still he has gone, I rush to reassure him. “I mean, I am. But it’s not because I signed some silly piece of paper.” I snort. “It’s because my mother always told me if I had sex, I’d get pregnant and my future would be ruined.” I raise my voice. “But you know what, Mother? Looks like my future is already ruined, so I might as well do the deed, right?”
Neil emits a strangled noise from his throat and starts to cough furiously.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Uh . . . fine.” He brakes at the stop sign and then turns right. “But you know your future isn’t ruined. We’ve discussed this. Like a zillion times.”
Despite the fact that I still haven’t confided my checkered past to him, Neil keeps insisting I have a bright future. And I guess if everything were up to him, maybe I would. But that’s not how the world works.
“Yeah, well. I’m still not convinced,” I say, twisting the strap of my bag. “And what about your future? Have you considered that, because of me, you could lose your position as worship leader? And everything you’ve worked for?”
Neil taps his index finger on the steering wheel, thinking. Finally he asks, “Is there any way you would consider making the pledge? I mean, not for them. For you.”
I’m not sure of the protocol here. It’s like church is some foreign country and I missed out on the cultural briefing. I started going because Grammy needed me to drive her. I started to enjoy going because Neil was there. But that doesn’t mean I’ve bought into the idea that God cares if I stay pure or not.
“It’s nothing I was ever confronted with before,” I say honestly. “I always figured someday I’d fall in love, and sex would happen naturally. I never thought I’d need to be married necessarily. And now everyone’s pushing the issue. I . . . don’t think I’m ready to make such a commitment.”
Neil pulls into his driveway, puts the car in park, and kills the engine. “But you know I’ve made the pledge. . . .” He looks at me for confirmation.
I squirm in my seat. “Yeah . . .”
“And I do take it seriously.”
My heart sinks. “Does that mean . . . you want to break up with me?” I ask in a small voice.
“No—of course not!” Neil’s denial is forceful. He unlatches his seat belt, leans over to brush wayward strands of hair behind my ear, and lets his hand rest on my neck. “Every relationship has its hurdles . . . and the big test is if you still want to be with someone despite those hurdles. And I do. I want to be with you.”
I nod. “So if you aren’t breaking up with me, and I’m not signing the pledge, then . . .”
Neil sighs. “Well, my parents won’t be happy about it, but if the congregation insists, then I’ll give up the worship leader position.” My heart swells, but I’m scared, too.
“And everyone will think you’re getting it on with a slut,” I say sarcastically, instantly regretting my words when Neil reacts as if he’s been slapped.
“I hate that word.” Neil draws back and unlocks his car door. “And I told you—I don’t care what everyone thinks.” He gets out, walks around the car, and opens my door for me. He’s not smiling.
I put my bag on my shoulder and get out. “What about what Andy thinks? Didn’t he warn you to stay away from me?” Andy also told me that Neil has a weakness for damaged girls, that I’m another in a long line of his mission projects. He accused me of taking advantage of Neil’s kindheartedness, and told me it was his job as Neil’s best friend to look out for him.
“Right, like Andy’s anyone who can afford to be judgmental.”
Face-to-face, we regard each other a long moment. I sigh and run my hand down his cheek. “I appreciate what you’re willing to sacrifice for me . . . but you shouldn’t have to. I can’t ask that of you. I can’t.” I lower my hand and hang my head, biting my lip.
Neil draws me into a fierce hug. “Look, we’ll figure it out, okay?” He kisses my forehead. I want so much to believe him.
As we walk into his house, Sugar runs to the door and rubs her face against Neil’s shin, meowing. I’m struck by a sudden, irrational jealousy when I see her. Maybe because her relationship with Neil is well defined, without any of these squishy gray areas and emotional land mines.
“Tea?” Neil asks, laughing as he picks up Sugar to carry her into the kitchen.
I laugh too. The tea question has become our inside joke, since every time Neil brews it, we forget to drink it. I’ve made Neil waste a lot of tea. I just hope I don’t make him waste his life, too.
I’m cozy and thinking of warm tea when the harsh glow of my hologram screen breaks into my consciousness. I twitch. Someone’s touching me, running fingers through my hair.
“Felicia?”
I groan, not wanting to open my eyes. “What, Julian?”
“I have been sitting here this whole time, thinking about you and me. About us.”
I sit up and look at him full on. Is he delusional? “There is no us.”
He acts like he doesn’t hear me. “We can break away from the rebels. Let them fight the Morati and see where the chips fall. If we stay out of it, we have a chance to live.”
I’ve avoided thinking too much about the personal consequences of waging this war, but it makes sense that there’s a good chance I won’t make it out “alive.” Would he really be willing to help me escape the Morati and the rebels? Would I be willing to leave Virginia with them if it meant a new chance for finding Neil?
“Maybe you’re right.” I throw my legs over the side of the chamber and push myself out. “We could run off, find Neil, and all live happily ever after. Assuming the rebels manage to defeat the Morati without us, that is.” Saying it out loud, it all seems so absurd.
“You’re still going on about Neil?” he asks, a nasty edge creeping into his voice. “You sound like a broken record.”
“Of course I am,” I say, annoyed. “You told me you’d help me find him, but you haven’t kept that promise. But you know what? I don’t n
eed you anymore. I can find people on my own now.” Okay, so I haven’t found anyone but Beckah, but I won’t give up easily.
Julian crosses his arms and smirks. “You won’t find Neil.”
“Sure I will,” I say, jutting out my chin.
“You won’t,” Julian repeats. “Because Neil is still on Earth.”
CHAPTER 18
“BUT HOW CAN THAT BE?” My eyes cloud over, and I feel like I’m going to faint. “I’ve been dead for so long, Neil would’ve died by now too.”
Julian starts pacing, reminding me of a high school teacher about to impart an important lesson. “Time exists differently here. It’s been only two Earth years since you died.”
“Two years?” I lean on the wall next to the chamber for support. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie?”
Julian clenches his jaw. “I didn’t lie. I said I know where Neil is. And I do. He’s on Earth.”
“Seriously?” I’m so frustrated with Julian, I could scream. “You think you can get off on a technicality? You let me believe I could find Neil. Here. In Level Two.”
“You can find him,” Julian says nonchalantly. “There’s a window to Earth here.”
I perk up. “Really? Where?”
Julian materializes three bowling pins and starts juggling, as if he’s totally over our conversation.
“Where’s this window, Julian?” I ask again, my anger mounting to the point where I push one of his pins with my mind.
The pin drops to the ground, and Julian bends to pick it up with a huff. “The window is in the Morati’s palace. Ask them to give you a glimpse of what your boyfriend is up to these days. I’m sure they’d oblige.” He covers his mouth but not soon enough to disguise a smirk.
“Are you serious? Or are you lying again?” I don’t know what to believe anymore.
“I wasn’t lying before,” Julian insists. “I’m not lying now. I even saw it for myself once.”
So that’s it, then. Unless Neil dies soon, which I hope he doesn’t, he won’t come here for a very, very long time. And who’s to say that by then he’ll still care at all about me? He’ll probably live a long life, get the worship leader position back, marry someone worthy of his goodness, be happy. There’s no room for me in such a scenario.
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