The Offering

by E. R. Arroyo

  Karen cocks her head to the side and back, pondering her response. “We could pick a place on the map, load up and go, hopefully find somewhere safe to get us by until we can figure something out. Don’t know if it’s feasible. I’ve sent for help from the doctors in Delilah and Wisdom. There has to be something we can do.” She shakes her head, letting it fall into her hands. “Or … we can stay here, hope that Antius doesn’t come for us. We’ve significantly weakened them. Their new leadership might not be as malicious as Cornelius and Nathan Burke were.”

  My body tenses at the mention of their names and Dylan notices, squeezing my hand in response. But he doesn’t speak or do anything to draw attention to me. Given my former relationship with Cornelius, it’s still hard for me to view him as the same as his son Nathan, who was nothing short of demented and cruel. But I have to remind myself that Antius was Cornelius’s creation and I can’t pretend his hands were entirely clean.

  When Karen looks up, I notice dark circles under her eyes. I know she’s doing everything she can, but nothing’s working.

  “What did you find out about The City?” Henry asks, his voice bland, leaning against the wall nearby. I hadn’t noticed him come in.

  “It wasn’t a military attack,” Max explains. “A few of them were killed trying to stop the soldiers from abducting members of their clan.”

  “Abduct?” Henry crosses his arms, raising a curious brow.

  “Yes and a few went after them to rescue the victims,” I interject. “But they haven’t returned.”

  Dylan squeezes my waist and presses his forehead against my shoulder, responding to the ever so subtle tremble my tired body has taken on through the course of this short conversation.

  “We asked them to send word when their men return,” I tell them.

  “If they return,” Max corrects, not sounding optimistic. “We have to be realistic here. You shouldn’t get your hopes up about what some kids with knifes are capable of against Antius’s forces.”

  Heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. Well, that was blunt. I shake my head, trying to hide my growing concern.

  “I’m sorry, ki—Cori, but The City is the least of our problems right now.” Max’s eyes hold an apology, but he obviously feels that needed to be said. I can’t fault him for it.

  Seeming to sense my disappointment, Dylan lifts me and takes my hand. “Let’s get you to bed. We can talk more once you’ve rested.”

  I excuse myself and follow Dylan to my room. As he’s tucking me in, he whispers, “I’ll talk to you in a bit.” He kisses my forehead and heads out. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  At that, I can’t help but smile.

  After a few hours of sleep, I slip into the hall and head toward the common room, but find no one there. Everyone is likely out doing whatever it is they do during the day.

  Feet scamper down the hall past me, and I poke my head out in time to see Karen’s bedroom door slam closed. Tiptoeing closer, I hear her shuffling around. I press my ear to her door in time for her to stop moving. Seconds later, a muffled whimper escapes her. I resist the urge to burst in and find out what’s wrong, but it sounds like sadness not distress.

  Sadness I’m familiar with, but it’s not something I know how to relate to in someone else. I hardly even discuss it with Dylan. Dylan, on the other hand, doesn’t seem sad at all. Just stressed. As much of a toll as it seems to be taking on him, I’m proud of him. He’s so determined to help. He’s so fundamentally good. Selfless.

  I pull away and head back to the common room, pretending to busy myself with something until I hear her coming back. I step out right as she’s passing. As suspected, her eyes are red and wet from recent tears and I’m taken aback by how tired she still looks.

  “Are you okay?”

  She steps back. One hand drifts to her stomach and the other wipes her eyes. After a long, deep breath, she rasps, “I’m fine, hun. A lot going on, you know?”

  “Yeah.” I think I should probably pat her shoulder or offer a hug, but I’m still working through my own issues. I don’t know how to comfort her properly. “I’m sorry,” I offer, not knowing what else to say.

  “It’s all right.” She sighs, runs her fingers through her hair. “I better get back to work.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help out?”

  She wipes her eyes again then rubs her forehead. “You any good with kids?”

  “Not as good as I am with a gun.” I grin, and I think it cheers her up just a bit.

  “Well then, why don’t you find Max and see what he’s up to?”

  “Will do, thanks.”

  I find him outside, rinsing his hands in a bucket of water next to the well. He splashes some on his face before acknowledging me with raised brows. I’m not sure what he’s been doing, but it’s clear he’s been hard at work on something given the dirt on his arms and shirt.

  “Patrol, wall, tower, or gate?” I ask him, standing at attention, awaiting orders.

  “Last I checked,” Max clears his throat, “you’re not one of my soldiers.”

  “Not officially, but a soldier nonetheless.” I left my crutches in my room hoping I’d look tougher without them. It doesn’t seem to be paying off.

  “I’m not putting an injured soldier in harm’s way.” He throws his hands on his hips, his posture just as stubborn as my attitude.

  “Tower, then. No safer place than the guard tower.” There is only one tower in Mercy and it’s right in the center of the compound, though not nearly as tall as the ones in Antius. “Come on, Commander, put me to work.”

  “Dylan and Karen can’t use you?”

  “They’re trying to solve medical mysteries. I promise, they need brains, not whatever it is I have.” I shift my weight, trying to look confident. I need to contribute. This is my home now, however temporary, and I won’t be a mooch.

  Hands on his hips and frowning, he looks me over. “I’d like you to rest up today and we’ll have a talk tomorrow.”

  Eyes downcast, I nod.

  “I mean it. Get some rest.”

  * * *

  “We need to talk,” Dylan whispers at dinner.

  “Sure.” I push around what’s left of my food, not feeling hungry enough to finish it.

  “You done?” He reaches for my tray.

  “Right now?”

  “If you don’t mind….” He lays his hand on my back, rubbing up and down once before he grabs my tray and his. He takes them to the little window between the kitchen and the dining space, passing them to Marge. She smiles as she takes them.

  “How’s your leg?” he asks when he shuts the door to my room, eyeballing the crutches in the corner.

  “I’m fine. I’ve been meaning to return those to the medical unit.”

  He seats himself on the bed and I join him.

  “We’ve been trying to recreate some of the medicines we’re running out of. I’ve been in the lab nonstop, and we’ve got the compounds close.” He looks down into his open palms then fidgets with his hands, turning them over as if searching them for answers to some great mystery.

  “That’s great news.”

  “It’s close, Cori, but it’s not complete.” He looks up finally. “And it’s not effective. There seems to be a key ingredient that we don’t have.” He wipes his furrowed brow, sweating even though I’m not warm at all.

  “But you’ll keep trying… Maybe the healers in Delilah…”

  “Delilah’s doctors are already here. We’ve tried everything. People’s systems are still not acclimated to the environment and the colonies have depended on Antius for their inoculations and antibiotics. Every citizen has been getting annual shots, a serum designed to support the immune system. Many of them are due for another within the next couple months, but we can’t get more from Antius, obviously. And like I said, we can’t recreate that or the antibiotics. All Delilah’s drugs can do is ease symptoms. We can’t fight off these infections if we can’t recreate those medicines.�
�

  “So you need to find the missing ingredient?” I try to put the puzzle together but come up with nothing. In fact, I wonder why he’s discussing it with me at all. I feel bad for him, but I don’t have answers for this kind of thing.

  He slowly reaches over and grabs my hand, holding it between both of his warm palms. He pauses, takes a breath. Looks up.

  “Cori. I have a pretty good idea of what the missing ingredient is. Something only Antius has had access to.” He takes in a long, deep breath, then cups both sides of my face, his expression drawn in pain and worry. He gazes into my eyes with so much regret I almost think he’s done something horrible.

  I search his eyes. He looks physically pained as he mutters the words, “I’d like to run some tests.”

  The words echo in my ears and I’m so confused—I’m not sure I heard it right. I pull his hands away from my face, gripping them tightly. Too tightly.

  And then it hits me. He hasn’t done something horrible at all. He’s asking me something horrible. Something unthinkable.

  “After everything we’ve been through…” I shake my head. Surely I’m misunderstanding. Eyes watering, I look up. “You want to do that to me again? To drill through my skull again?” Blood pounds against my temples, a subtle throb forming in my head at the mere idea of being subjected to that again.

  Hands on either side of my head, I stand up to put distance between us. I begin to pace the room, only slightly limping. I stop midstride and cover my face with my hands. My chest aches under the weight of Dylan’s words. This is a lot. Too much, in fact. Too much to ask of me. I take in ragged breaths as images race through my mind of labs, needles, and pure oppression. All marks of the prison I’d been so eager to escape. An overwhelming sense of dread mounts at the thought of it all, making me feel heavy and weighted down as if concrete filled my limbs. And Dylan had been a part of that.

  I look over at him, sitting patiently on the bed, his posture perfectly straight, his hands gripping his knees. The sight of him, so calm while my world is shaking, makes the dread shift into something else. Something angry.

  “Just days ago I found out you were doing this to me without my knowing. And you apologized. How do you apologize for something and then ask to do it again a few days later? How can you possibly think this is okay? Things were just getting back to normal between us.”

  “I don’t want anything to come between us,” he says. “And I know it isn’t fair—I don’t want to ask this of you.”

  “Yet here you are, asking me this. This!” I say, pointing to my head where he used to draw fluid from my brain.

  He motions with his hands, about to speak, but his eyes meet mine and he stops himself. Taking quick, shallow breaths, he rubs his face. When he looks up again, his hand is cupped over his mouth and chin, his eyes wide. He pauses, sighs, then claps his hands on his knees. “Cori, I wish it hadn’t come to this. You have to believe that.”

  “How can I?” I whisper. I move across the room to the chair in the corner and ease down in it. I drop my head to my hands. Chest heaving as I try to calm myself down, I take one deep breath and then another.

  His voice comes out lower, thicker when he speaks again. “I’ve been on your side at every turn. I’ve always had your best interest at heart. And honestly I’m getting a little tired of having to convince you of that.”

  My head pops up. “Well, I’m getting a little tired of being nothing more than a tool—of being used for the sake of everyone else. I’m a human being, Dylan. I have more to offer than some stupid chemical.” There has to be another way. Some other answer no one has thought of. Something.

  “If you think no one values you for who you are, you are wrong. But I can’t deny that we need a solution, Cori, or people are not going to get better.”

  “There has to be another way…” my voice trails off as dread tries to takeover, my eyes stinging with fresh tears that I fight to hold back. Did I leave one hell to willfully enter another? It’s more pressure than I can take.

  Dylan exhales, getting to his feet and stomping toward the wall opposite the door, turning his back to me. I’m stunned by his sudden show of anger. As I stare at him with my mouth open, he slams his palm against the wall. He takes a deep breath, calming himself a little before he speaks.

  “I just need you to try to think of someone besides yourself right now.” He doesn’t look at me.

  “What are you saying?” I gawk, my heart pounding even harder somehow.

  He rubs his eyes then drags his hand through his hair. “Maybe…” He sighs. “Maybe you’re being just a little bit selfish.”

  “Selfish?” I repeat.

  He says nothing.

  “You think I’m being selfish?” I cross my arms with hurt feelings and wounded pride.

  He whips around to face me. There’s an apology in his eyes, but he doesn’t say it. “I do.”

  My stomach becomes a cold pit, fraught with ache as if I were punched there. I clear my throat. “Okay.” I look around the room, not really for any good reason, while I think, while I process the situation. My eyes fixate on a crack in the wall that runs from the bathroom doorframe up to the ceiling. “I’m sorry that’s what you think of me.”

  “Don’t do that,” he groans. “Don’t make this about us. I’m asking you for your help, and you’re being childish about it.”

  “Wow, you’re on a roll. Selfish and childish. Great.” I clench my fists, unable to keep my rising anger from taking over.

  “Cori…” He strides toward me, taking my hands in his.

  I pull away. “No.” Don’t touch me, I warn silently. He doesn’t hear my unspoken message.

  He tries to get me to look at him, leaning to the side to force eye contact. “No?” He tries to lay his hand on my arm, but I dodge it.

  I back up. I extend my palms toward him. “Just … give me a little space, please.” I can practically feel myself shutting down. Suddenly, the old Cori is fighting to return—the one who didn’t trust people, the one who didn’t want to be touched. The one who was on her own.

  I sit on the bed and pull my legs up in front of me to hug my knees to my chest. I don’t understand what’s happening. We were fine. I thought we were fine. And now he’s saying these things about me that aren’t true and aren’t fair. Despair splinters in my chest. A lump forms in my throat but I swallow it down—steady myself. And I straighten my shoulders once I’m finally able to speak again.

  “If that’s what you really think about me, I don’t really know where that leaves us,” I tell him.

  He kneels beside the bed, finally careful not to touch me. He rubs his brow, sighing. “What do you want me to say?” His voice is softer now, but exasperated still.

  “Nothing.”

  Anger flares in his eyes. He stands and moves toward the door. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “Can’t deal with this or can’t deal with me?” I look up.

  His jaw tenses, his eyes the hardest I’ve ever seen them. His chest rises and falls several times and he doesn’t answer. The longer he stands there looking at me like that, the easier it becomes to fight off the tears, instead mirroring his anger.

  “Let me make it easy for you, then.” I hop off the bed and walk as calmly as I’m able to the door. I open it and motion for him to leave. “I am officially no longer your problem.”

  “If you know me at all,” he says, “you know that I will not beg.” He doesn’t move, not even an inch.

  “There’s no reason to.”

  “This is a mistake, Cori. You’re overreacting.”

  I cock my head toward the open door. “Goodnight, Dylan.” Goodbye, Dylan.

  Chapter Five

  “Are you going to say goodbye?”

  “No.” I have nothing more to say to Dylan. I crouch by Max’s truck adjusting the stuff in my bag, making sure I have everything. Max crosses his arms, looking down at me and shaking his head.

  “Let’s go then,” Max
says reluctantly.

  Max gets in the driver’s seat and I hop in on the passenger side.

  “Thank you for doing this,” I mumble as Max pulls through the gates of Mercy. Once again, we face the wild open between here and The City.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He grips the wheel with both hands. It took a lot to talk him into this, but he seems to know that when I get something in my head, I don’t give up.

  “No.” I keep my eyes on the passing scenery even though it’s still dark out. The sun will be up soon.

  “So, you really want me to take you to The City and leave you there? Walk away and let the savages have you? I don’t think they took to you all that well last time.” He leans against the door casually, tapping the steering wheel with his right hand.

  “At least they weren’t hostile.”

  “They were definitely hostile.” Max chuckles and a moment later so do I. “This isn’t permanent, right?”

  I scratch my forehead, not sure how to answer. Of course it won’t last forever, but I don’t think I can bear to be in Mercy right now. I thought it was only the sick women who felt horrible things about me but clearly Dylan does too. Who knows, maybe everyone does. But how could I face Dylan after everything we said to each other last night? I’m not sure if that makes me a coward.

  The ache in my chest is renewed at the thought of fighting with Dylan. I don’t even realize I’ve clutched my shirt in my fist until my knuckles begin to ache.

  I have no idea what I’m going to do without him. Ever since we were little kids—until just recently—he was in my life every day. He was my best friend. He helped me through so much. Taught me, encouraged me. And now that we’re apart, I don’t even know who I am—who I’m supposed to be. I have no idea how to be on my own, but I know that I need to. I have to do this … and somehow hope that I can figure it all out, and that I’ll be better for it in the end.

  Max reaches across the open space between us to pat my shoulder briefly before turning his sympathetic gaze back on the road ahead.

  I feel the all-too-familiar sting of tears attempting to pool in my eyes and I tip my head back to keep them from spilling out. I’m sick and tired of crying. Dylan wanted to condemn me back into a life of laboratories, but I’m done with the days of my life being outside of my control. I’m taking it back. I’m done with crying too.