by Lisa Jade
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I wake to the sound of sirens.
It takes an alarming amount of effort to open my eyes and when I finally manage to do so, all I see is dirt. I’m lying sprawled on the ground amongst a mass of flaming wreckage.
As my ears adjust to the blaring, I can hear other sounds, too. Yelling, screaming, the occasional scuffle. The sound of the others fighting off Guards.
Wait. The others. Pan!
I somehow find the strength to push up onto my elbows, where I notice that the ground below me is red. Huh. Why is it red? My forehead pulses with pain as though in answer to my question, and I take a deep breath before touching a finger to that spot. It comes away crimson.
Great. I got hurt.
The sight of my own blood-soaked finger is sickening. I’m not scared of blood, far from it – but as I stare down at my hand, my vision blurs. Other things follow suit and soon the world is spinning around me. I press my hand to my forehead to stop the constant movement, but it does little to help.
Where are the others? I was with Pan. Is she nearby? Did they already take her?
Dread twists in my stomach as I consider the alternative – that she may not have survived the crash. But no. If I’m still alive, she has to be, too.
I manage to sit upright despite the spinning. Everything seems black and charcoaled in comparison to the blinding flames around me. Pan’s bike is twisted and broken a few feet away, sending panic flitting through my chest.
Please be alive.
Something shuffles to my right. A dark shape, a pair of thick-set legs, broad shoulders.
The Guard steps towards me uncertainly, his eyes narrowing as he looks me up and down. I realise with a start that my hood has fallen back. I look around; the black scarf lies near the bike, already aflame.
“A Millchild?”
His voice is uneven, like he’s doubting his own eyes. I suppose he must recognise the build and dark tan. There’s nobody like me in Thorne. Still, he doesn’t know who I am. I’m still just a random face amongst the flames.
He watches me for a moment, then draws his gun. From the pads on his joints I’m sure he’s one of the bike Guards – he must have seen me shoot the helicopters down. He must know for sure that I’m a criminal. Fear whips through me, stronger and more terrifying than anything I’ve ever known.
As he takes a hesitant step towards me, I recoil. Some small part of me says that I should fight back, that I should get up and wrestle the gun from him. Shoot him. I’ve already crossed that line once today. This would be no different.
But my body hurts, and there’s blood in my eyes, and even as I look at him the world dips and sways around me. Smoke fills the air between us, making it hard to breathe. I can’t move. Not even as he comes to a stop in front of me. Not even as he raises the gun, aiming at my forehead.
Jay’s there before I even hear him coming. In a swift movement he’s grabbed the Guard’s arm and bent it back. The snapping sound is audible even over the crackling flames. The guy screams – but Jay simply throws him to the ground, yanking the gun from his hands and firing a clean shot into his shoulder.
It seems perfectly calculated, as though he’s fought off Guards in this manner plenty of times. But it’s not. In his eyes is fury and rage, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It reminds me of Kane when he stepped up to Wirrow; only fiercer. Much, much fiercer.
And then he’s next to me, kneeling in the wreckage. A warm hand finds my head, pushes my hair back. He grimaces at the blood.
“Are you okay?”
I swallow hard before speaking, and even then my voice wobbles.
“Where’s Pan?”
“She’s okay. She’s with us.”
“I… I screwed up.”
“We can talk about that later. We need to get out of here. C’mon, put your arm over my shoulder.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer; just grabs me and pulls me upright.
The chaos of the helicopter crash works as the perfect diversion. Nobody notices or cares as we drive away on the few bikes we have left. I glance around, noting that I’m not the only one who took some damage. Pan winces with every movement, clutching her leg as she rides behind Jay. Jay himself has cuts all over, some frighteningly deep. Difference is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, and nothing more.
Everything still pulses around me, moments of vibrant colour conflicting with moments of near darkness. I let my eyes slide shut for a moment, trying to calm the jolting.
“Hey,” Jensen warns me, “don’t pass out. I can’t hold you upright and steer this thing.”
I do as I’m told, leaning against him and tightening my grip on his waist. Suddenly, I don’t care whether it’s decent for me to be grabbing him like this. It doesn’t matter. It’s just skin.
Last time, adrenaline took over. And afterwards, I’d felt immense relief and started to laugh about it. Not this time. There’s no rush, no intense feeling of excitement. I feel like my adrenaline is crashing, even without rising in the first place. I don’t want to laugh, though. It’s taking all I have not to cry.
“Nearly done… there we go.”
The woman steps back, admiring her handiwork. I glance at the tiny mirror on the table next to me, counting the stitches she’s spent a half hour putting in my head. Ten. Not too bad, all things considered. The spinning has finally stopped, too.
We’d arrived back in a state. Pan had started to cry the moment we stepped into relative safety, and though I’d fought to keep my expression neutral, I’d been trying not to join her. As the adrenaline rush had vanished completely I’d dropped to the ground, falling back against the wall and pulling my knees up to my chin. The relief that shuddered through me was so intense I thought I might never move again.
The others didn’t let that happen, though. Jensen had offered me a steady hand to stand up again, and his comforting smile had broken through the fear in my chest. After that, we’d been pulled in separate directions through the tunnels.
The woman dabs away the last speck of blood and smiles.
“Feeling better?”
Her voice is thick with sympathy – and for once, I actually appreciate it. I touch the cut gingerly. It doesn’t hurt anymore. The dizziness is gone. Turns out I wasn’t all that badly hurt. Which, I suppose, begs the question; why didn’t I fight back? I’d thought it was due to the blood streaming down my face, the way I was seeing double. But if it wasn’t that, then why was I frozen against the ground, unable to move even to defend myself?
I don’t want to answer the question, so I push it aside. The woman’s face creases with concern as she looks down at my clothes – they’re ripped to shreds by this point, barely covering my modesty. Another time, I’d try to cover up. Now? I simply don’t care. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head sadly.
“Honestly. What was Jay thinking?”
“It’s not his fault,” I mutter, “it was my mistake.”
“Well, it was his idea to sneak off without reinforcements. He didn’t even tell us where you were all going. We heard about it through the Feed.”
“The Feed?”
“The television channel. Apparently, Maynard thought it would be charming to air the whole dreadful thing.”
My gut clenches. So everyone knows that I shot down the helicopters. That I froze up at the worst possible second.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I mean, it cut out as soon as the helicopters went down, but…”
She trails off, eyeing me curiously. I can tell she wants to ask about the gun, question why I did it.
“I mean…”
“It’s okay,” I say, my voice hard, “you can say it.”
She hesitates, and I realise for the first time that I don’t even know her name. We were swarmed as we came in to the Atrium, and as she’d grabbed my arm to lead me away, I hadn’t even stopped to wonder who she was.
“What’s your name, anywa
y?”
“Marla. What’s yours? I mean, what name do you go by?”
“Noah.”
She bites her lip.
“Well, Noah, it was pretty brave what you did back there. I don’t know many people who would be willing to destroy three helicopter crews just like that.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” I snarl, “what else could I have done?”
“Darling, you misunderstand. I mean it when I say it was brave. I’ve often thought that if only we were a little harder on our opponents, then maybe we could win this fight more easily. Everyone here adores Jay and would have wanted you to do whatever it took to protect him. You did a good thing, Noah.”
My stomach churns.
“It sure doesn’t feel like it.”
“Well, it was. This is war, remember? If we’re too afraid to fight back, we’ll never win.”
She smiles again, a broad, tight-lipped smile, and I return it uneasily.
The door to the room nudges open, and a familiar face pokes its way past the doorframe. I immediately feel shame welling in my chest.
“Jay.”
If he’s angry at me, it doesn’t show. Instead, he smiles blandly at Marla.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she replies, “just a bump to the head. Minor at worst.”
Perhaps she senses the tension in the room, because she glances at each of us in turn before excusing herself. As the door slips shut behind her, I find myself physically recoiling from Jay’s gaze. I don’t quite know what to expect. A scolding? A thrashing? Some small part of me cries that this isn’t the Mill, that I won’t be punished. But this isn’t talking back. It isn’t some small trace of resistance that can easily be quashed. I took matters into my own hands and probably hurt a lot of people. If not worse.
Still, as he looks me up and down, conflict in his eyes, I can’t bring myself to feel remorse. I don’t like what I did, but I can’t bring myself to question it. It feels terrible – but if I hadn’t done it, we’d all be captured or dead by now. I’ll take whatever punishment he wants to throw my way.
But then he collapses into the nearest chair, wiping the sweat from his brow, and I get my first real look at him since we got back. Jay’s face is pale and drawn, and there’s sweat on his lip. His body is covered in bandages and sterile patches, covering the multitude of cuts he sustained in the crash. Suddenly, despite the muscle in his arms, he looks frail. For the first time since I met him, I feel scared for him. He seems so very tired. He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s just staring at the ground, as though he could count the rivets in the floor. I can’t stay silent a moment longer.
“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t move.
“For what?”
“For using that gun. I thought I was helping, I really did. But it was a disaster. I… I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
He raises his head now, narrows his eyes at me.
“What are you talking about? Everyone got out alive, didn’t they? Sure, Pan’s got a broken leg and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna hurt for Nate to piss for a few days, but that’s it. They’re alive. Nothing else matters.”
“Even so, the pilots…”
“Were trying to kill us. I don’t condone violence, I really don’t, but in doing what you did, you saved our asses. Nobody’s going to hate you for that.”
And he says it so calmly, so confidently, that for a moment, I actually believe him.
“Are you okay?” I ask, “you seem exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine. Stressed, but it’s wearing off. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be alright.”
I don’t reply; there’s nothing to say. But then he looks at me, his brows furrowed in concern.
“You sure you’re alright?”
I glance down at myself. I can see why he’s asking. The blood’s drying in my hair, my clothes are torn to shreds, and my fingertips are still shaking a little. Like him, it’s taking a little while for the stress to fade. I swallow hard.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thanks to you.”
“Don’t thank me for that.”
“I get it. It’s just what you do for people, huh? Part of being a leader.”
He laughs – but it’s a dark, unpleasant sound. It doesn’t suit him.
“I wouldn’t have shot a guy for just anyone.”
My nerves build.
“You mean because I might be Ada?”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. As an awkward silence settles over the room, I consider what’s going to happen now. One way or another, Jensen still got the data. We still have to find out the truth.
As if on cue, Nate taps the door open and waves at us.
“Hey. You might not be up for it yet, but Jensen’s got the database working. We can check any time you want to.”
With that he’s gone, sending a flurry of uneasy feelings swirling in my stomach.
“Well, there’s no reason to put it off,” says Jay. He draws himself up to his full height and pulls back his shoulders, as though he’s trying to personify the strong leader he’s always thought to be. Beside him, I hesitate.
I don’t want to do this.
Before, I felt like knowing the truth would be the answer I needed. If I wasn’t Ada, I could just go back to the Mill and stop bothering these people with my presence. If I was, I’d do whatever I could to help them. Both answers were about causing the least harm to them. But now?
“Are you coming?”
Jay’s voice is warm, inviting; but I’m too scared to reply. Instead I hang my head, tightening my grip on the sides of my chair.
“Noah?”
“I don’t want to.”
He pauses – and for a moment, I expect anger. I wouldn’t blame him. It’s my fault everyone got hurt. They wouldn’t even have tried that trick if it weren’t for me. To say I don’t want it now is nonsensical, selfish and stupid. We can agree on that much.
“But you wanted this. You wanted to know who you are.”
“It won’t change anything,” I say flatly, “we both know it.”
“Of course it will. Listen, if you’re Ada…”
“And if I’m not? Then I’ll have to leave, and you’ll all have gone through this for nothing.”
I can’t see his face, and I don’t want to. I lower my head a little more, creating a blonde barrier between us. I can’t stand to see the disappointment in his eyes.
“That’s… listen, if you’re not Ada, I still want you to stay.”
“You do?”
“Of course. This is home now, right? We like having you around.”
I shudder. Yes. He’s right. This is home. I can’t imagine ever going back now. Pretending this didn’t happen.
“But if I am Ada…”
“Then there’s no problem. I’ll have my sister back, and you can slip right back into your old life. Pick up where you left off.”
I raise my head now, meeting his eyes – dusty blue, just like mine. He’s so much like me. We share the same dirty blonde hair, the same twisted smile. Heck, even the same nose. It’s easy to see why we could be related.
“You barely know me,” I mutter, “how do you know you can trust me? It’s hardly been a week.”
“You’ve done a good job so far, haven’t you?”
“I’m not like you. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people.”
To my surprise, there’s heat in my cheeks. I bite back on the tears, refusing to let them out, but they’re still there. They lurk behind my eyes, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. I don’t deserve to be among them. Their laughter, their kindness. All spoiled by me. I think of the pilots, hospitalised or worse. Of perfect strangers who are hurt because of me. I think of Kane, digging in the darkness, filled with anger and bitterness because of what I did.
“You’re better off without me around.”
He watches me for a moment, like he’s scared to say what he thinks.
But then,
he laughs. It’s a different sound from before. It’s light and airy and wonderful – and if it weren’t for the sadness in my chest, I’d feel the urge to join in. Instead, I feel irritated.
“H-hey! This isn’t funny!”
“Yes it is!” he laughs, “you’re hilarious.”
“I’m not trying to be. This is serious.”
He leans over suddenly, resting a reassuring hand on my arm.
“You think you’re the first person ever to make a mistake and hurt someone? Noah, I’m the leader of the Clover. When I make mistakes, people die. And I’ve made mistakes. A lot. Pan used to have a roommate, you know. Key word – used to. They died because I fucked up. Trust me, I know how awful it feels – but to make mistakes is human.”
“I know it seems that way…”
“It is that way. Okay, you screwed up. You feel bad about it, right?”
“Yes.”
“You know it was wrong, right?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll never, ever make that mistake again, right?”
“No, I won’t,” I reply, though I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.
He gives a triumphant smirk.
“Then why are you beating yourself up? You made a mistake and you learned from it. You can’t feel guilty for the rest of your life. You’ve got to learn to forgive yourself.”
“But I…”
“Please, Noah. Just try.”
I swallow hard, pushing the feeling back. The tears pressing against my eyes seem to fade, though the pain’s still there, lurking under the surface. I doubt it’ll ever really go away. Still, I nod.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I am full of wisdom,” he teases. I shoot him a sarcastic look.
“Let’s go and see if it’s brotherly wisdom, shall we?”
I’d half expected the others to still be off somewhere in the tunnels, being patched up. But no – they’re waiting for us in the Atrium, bright smiles on their faces. I notice with a grimace that Pan’s leaning heavily on Nate, perhaps to hide the fact she’s hurt her leg. My guilt rises again, but as I meet those clear, green eyes, I realise she’s not angry with me.
Instead, she looks me up and down, then laughs.
