"Hey!" a voice calls when I near the Green.
I glance to my left. Link jogs toward me. I cringe, really wishing he hadn't seen me yet. I haven't had a chance to talk to him since our last conversation when he got mad at me for keeping him out of the loop. I can only imagine how much angrier he's going to be, seeing how I disappeared for two days.
"Hey, Link," I say as he draws near. "I'm sorry ab—"
His arms come around me in a tight hug. "Glad you're back! I've been worried."
"You have?"
He lets me go and grins sheepishly. "Not really. I mean, I knew you were with Rafe, so figured you were pretty safe, but, you know, you left without saying goodbye, and I didn't have a chance to say sorry about giving you a hard time."
"It's me who should apologize. You had every right to help us recover the Originals."
He laughs, actually laughs, and I'm so confused.
"Forget about it. Everything will work out." His smile is big and bright, almost unnaturally so. I don't like it.
"Are you okay?"
"I've never been better." He glanced behind him. "I better go, but I'll catch up to you later, okay?"
"Sure," I say, my brows drawn together.
Just before he turns away, he says, "By the way, you're looking really good. Did you do something to your hair?"
I reach up to touch it. "Trim," I say lamely.
"I like it!" He jogs away.
I stare after him, wondering why he is so happy. Maybe there has been some breakthrough with Ebony while I was gone. Maybe he found out where his father and brother are being held, which means they probably know where Max is too. I pick up my pace, hoping this is the reason for Link's sudden happiness.
The small hospital is mostly empty except for a few nurses and a couple of Originals sitting in a waiting room. Since Primes heal so quickly they rarely need medical attention.
I peek in the room Jenna was in, but she's not there. Tank's is empty too.
"Are you looking for Tank?" a nurse asks me as she passes by.
"I am."
"He left this morning, but I bet you can find him over in the Ariel Hall building at orthotics. They were fitting him with a robotic arm."
"Oh good," I say and hurry back the way I came.
It takes a good ten minutes to cross Enfield over to Ariel Hall. It is hard not to run with my new strength. I bet I could've made it in two minutes. The second I get the chance I want to sneak away to truly test my speed. The treadmill Zander had me on couldn't go any faster.
I open the door to the small building that I didn't think was ever used. I haven't been in it before, nor have I seen anyone use it. There's a small waiting area that looks like it hasn't been used in months. There's even dust along the tops of a long reception counter. Had my hearing not been recently upgraded, I might've turned around to leave, but I detect voices coming from a back room.
I walk down a long hallway and stop just outside a closed door to listen in.
"It's a little tight right here," Tank's voice says. His voice is deeper than I remember—no, that's not that right word. Weightier? It's missing his positive energy I'm accustomed too.
There's a shuffling of sounds, metal on metal, material sliding in and out of each other.
"Try that," a feminine voice says.
A moment later, Tank says, "That's better, but it still feels awkward."
"You'll get used to it."
I knock on the door.
A woman with bright blue eyes and orange hair opens the door.
"Oh! Hi Sage!" she says as if we know each other, but I've never met her before.
"Hey." I glance over her shoulder at Tank. He has a shiny, metal robotic arm attached to his shoulder. Straps across his chest help hold it in place. His blue eyes slowly meet mine. I almost suck in air. The spark, his happy zen or whatever you want to call it, is gone, and in its place is palpable anger.
"You left," he says.
I hold his gaze as long as I can before I have to look away. To the orange-haired woman, I say, "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"
She glances between us both. "Sure. Whatever you need." She exits the room and closes the door.
I approach him slowly. "How's your arm?"
"Gone."
I flinch. "I'm sorry."
He shrugs his good arm.
"This looks like a good replacement," I offer. I reach to touch the metal arm, but leave my fingers hovering an inch away.
"It will get the job done. Where have you been?"
"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I wanted to, but—"
"Answer my question.
"Tank…are you okay?"
"Are you? Anthony dies. Jenna and I are left in the hospital, and you disappear to what," he eyes me up and down, "get your hair done? Have a spa day?"
He narrows his eyes, really examining me now. "What did you do?"
I turn my back on him, my heart racing, and cross the room where I'm not so close to him. "Rafe took me to see Myers."
"To do what?"
I turn around, but avoid eye contact. A lie forms in my throat, but stops at my tongue. I don't want to deceive him, not if I can help it. He is still one of my best friends. "We're going to discuss it tonight. How's Jenna?"
"Not talking to anyone." Tank slides off the long table he is sitting on and stands to his full height. It would be intimidating if I didn't know him. "I'm leaving soon to bury Anthony next to his wife. You're welcome to come if you want."
"He's not getting cremated?" I ask, surprised. The government had made this rule over two hundred years ago. With so many people dying, there was a time when society simply couldn't keep up with burying the dead. Now the practice has become tradition.
"He wanted to be buried with his wife near their old home just outside of Boston."
"That's beautiful," I whisper, a growing weakness threatening to overtake me. Anthony was one of the few Primes to actually fall in love and marry, but his young wife had contracted the Kiss early. For most people, a loved one’s death would cripple them, but Anthony focused his grief on helping others.
"We won't be gone long." Tank pulls a t-shirt over his head. It takes him a few seconds to position it correctly over his metal arm.
"I'll be there," I say.
"We leave in twenty minutes." He opens the door and disappears.
As soon as he's gone, I collapse into the wall behind me, my legs no longer able to hold my weight. Tank is so different, so angry. Do I look like him to the rest of the world? I already know the answer.
I only hope my grief will cool before I turn out just like Rafe.
11
It's risky traveling close to Boston, but we all agree it's worth it. We arrive in record time. Tank had flown his hovercraft fast, not saying a word to anyone. I didn't talk either, but even if I had wanted to, there wouldn't have been anyone to talk to. Jenna had shut herself in the medical room the second she stepped aboard. No one else had come along as a service had already been held the night before. I was told the event was attended in record numbers. This didn't surprise me.
Anthony can't have lived in this neighborhood more than eight years ago, but by the looks of it, you'd think more time has passed. None of the houses look inhabited anymore. Many of them have broken doors and windows as if they had been robbed, and all the lawns are overgrown. Only the road and sidewalk are in good condition.
"What happened here?" I ask, hoping one of them will answer.
Jenna is several steps ahead, and Tank walks off to my side, but nowhere near me. He pushes a long, horizontal crate on wheels down the street. Anthony. I quickly avert my gaze.
"War," Tank says. "People have fled most of the outer areas to seek refuge with either us or the Institute. Many of the cities are divided into two groups. There's no room for people to fence-sit anymore. You're either in or you're out."
"But no one's forcing this. Surely people can choose whether they want to figh
t or not."
"Not anymore. Several months ago, when you were still at Eden, the Institute went door to door enlisting people to fight with them. If their bribes didn't work, then they used threats. Those who didn't flee ahead of them were conscripted."
"No one told me." I ground my teeth together, resisting the urge to slam my fist into a nearby light post. "I hate them."
"We all do." Tank swats at a No Parking sign in front of us, knocking it over.
Jenna glances over her shoulder. This is the first time she has looked at me. I expect to see the same anger in her eyes that I feel in my own, but instead, there is only sadness. Maybe she really is broken.
Tank stops in front of a small house. "This is it. Forty-eight Pine Circle."
Anthony's home might've once been picturesque with white paint and blue shutters, but it doesn't look like much now. Trees have grown all around it, nearly smothering it, and the home's windows are all broken.
"He said he buried her a ways behind their house in a clearing. There should be a swing set there too." Tank pauses, his chest heaving up and down. "They bought one for future children."
I lower my gaze, fighting back tears. Very few people ever plan on having children. It is difficult enough for Primes to get pregnant, but even if they do, babies often have medical issues because of the overuse of DNA tampering. But Anthony didn't care about any of that. He saw beauty in everything he did.
"Let's split up to find it," Tank says, but Jenna is already walking around the side of the house to the backyard.
I take a few seconds before I follow after them. I need some time to gather my emotions, to tightly compress them into the back of my mind where they won't try to stop me from doing what needs to be done.
The forest is even more overgrown behind the house. I step over fallen limbs and around tall bushes, searching for a headstone.
"I found it," Jenna whispers.
My perfect hearing has no problem detecting her voice. I maneuver my way to her, trying hard not to just toss trees aside that are in my way.
Tank and I reach what might've once been a clearing at the same time. The area is mostly overgrown now, a rusted, toppled swing set lying in the grass. Jenna stares down at a slab of concrete on the other side.
"You're sure quiet walking through this forest," Tank says to me. "I don't remember you being so agile."
I avert my gaze and walk up to Jenna.
"Look at the quote beneath her name," Jenna tells us.
I read the headstone. It has his wife's name: Mary Aldridge and the date she died three years ago. I remember Anthony telling me once that he had married Mary when they were both just seventeen, which means they were together for six years. The words "Love Heals" has been scratched beneath the date. It looks like someone has taken a knife and carved those two words many times deeper into the stone.
I stare at the phrase like someone looking at an abstract painting. I loved Anthony, but right now there's only room in my heart for hate and anger. Anthony is dead because of the Institute. Max and Colt may be too for all I know.
"Sage," Tank says, "help me get the shovels. I'll get Anthony."
We trudge back through the forest into the backyard of Anthony's home. Tank opens the lid to the long crate. I mean to look away, but I'm not fast enough, and my heart clenches inside my chest. Anthony's body is wrapped in long brown material secured by ropes. I had tried hard to bury my emotions when he died, to appear strong, but they come now. I place my hand on a nearby tree and lower my head to let my silent tears fall into the overgrown grass.
Tank inhales a deep breath before reaching in and lifting Anthony's body. He doesn't say anything to me as he disappears into the forest. I tilt my head back, and try to slow my breathing. Sunlight warms my face and dries my tears.
I scoop up the two shovels and return to Tank and Jenna. Tank kicks aside deadfall to the left of Mary's grave. I hand him a shovel.
Tank motions to Jenna who kneels next to Anthony's wrapped body. "Jenna can use the other one."
"No," I say quickly. "I can do this."
To prove my point, I shove the spaded part of the shovel deep into the ground and scoop a large load of dirt and grass. Tank joins me. The work isn't difficult, and I find it comforting to have something to do.
"I can take a turn," Jenna says to me after awhile. "You've got to be exhausted."
I keep shoveling.
Occasionally I feel Tank's eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. The deeper and longer the hole gets, the madder I become. I shouldn't be here digging a grave for my friend. None of us should be. Anthony was taken way too early.
"This will do," Tanks says.
I stop shoveling and look down, surprised at our progress. There's a hole just as long as Anthony and about four feet deep. Jenna and Tank lift Anthony's body and gently lay him inside. I press my hand to my heart as if I could somehow stop it from racing. I still can't believe we are doing this.
Jenna straightens. "I don't remember my real father, but Anthony was the next best thing. I didn't say it to him while he was alive, but I loved him. He made me a better person. I don't know how he did it, but he found the best parts of me and taught me how to use them. I think without Anthony, I might've been a very selfish person. Even with his daily lectures about standing up for what's right and caring for others, I still struggled to open my heart." She inhales a hitched breath. I should walk over and comfort her.
I don't.
"It's just easier not to care or love," Jenna continues. "There's so much less pain when you don't love the people who go away or die." She glances over to Mary's headstone. "But I understand now why it's important to love despite the pain, and why we should open our hearts to everyone around us." She looks at each of us. "Because of their friendship, the love that we shared with them, heals us in so many ways."
"How's that?" Tank asks. There's an edge to his voice, but I don't think Jenna catches it because her expression stays soft.
"Because of Anthony I have hope for the future, something I didn't use to have. Because of Anthony, I know I can make this world a better place. Because of Anthony, I believe this world is not the end. Because of Anthony, I know I will love again. Shall I keep going?"
"Because of the Institute, Anthony is dead," I add. "They should pay for everything they've done."
"And they will."
Tank snorts. "Then why are you talking about love right now when we should be talking about killing every last one of them?"
She looks at each of us. "I see the looks in your eyes and feel the anger bleeding from your pores. You guys don't care about making this world better right now. You only want blood."
"And that's a problem?" Tank asks.
"You should be fighting to get your family and friends back and to protect others. This is fighting out of love and what Anthony would want."
"Anthony's not here anymore," I say.
Her head snaps in my direction. "What happened to you?"
"I could say the same to you. Since when do you care so much about people and making things better?"
"Since Anthony died and I realized I was wrong." Her eyes turn to steel. "What's your excuse for turning into a bitch?"
"Jenna—" Tank warns.
My muscles flex beneath my skin. "Where have my words or actions gotten us? We’re in a worse position than ever before! Anthony is dead, and Colt and Max taken along with hundreds of others. It's time for some real action. We need to hit the Institute with everything we can. And I'm willing to give up everything to spill their blood in the same way they spilled ours."
She stares at me long and hard. "Then promise me this, Patch. After you're done with your killing spree, you come find me and tell me how revenge tastes."
She turns on her heel and stomps away from us.
I grind my teeth together and close my eyes to prevent any tears from forming. Part of me knows she's right. The taste in my mouth is already bitter, but I can't stop it. I'm too angr
y.
"Jenna's wrong, you know," Tank says as he scoops up dirt and tosses it onto Anthony's body. "I don't care where your head is at or what you're feeling. We just need to stop the Institute in whatever way we feel is best."
I don't say anything, but I do join him in burying Anthony. We're slower this time but still make quick work. When we're finished, Tank says, "I will miss you, friend."
"We'll make it right," I vow.
We stay silent for a few minutes, the sounds of birds chirping overhead making a soft melody. My eyes focus on the deeply etched phrase "Love Heals." Maybe one day when I have time to rest.
"Give me your hand," Tank says.
It's a strange request, but I hold it out, thinking maybe he wants to pray or something. As soon as he grabs it, he turns it over and inspects it.
"You don't have any blisters."
"So?"
"We just shoveled for over an hour. Not once did you break a sweat, nor do you have any blisters. The old Sage would really be struggling about now. Look at me."
"Tank—"
"Do it!"
I slowly meet his gaze.
He looks deep into my eyes, then his eyes widen. He noticed my contacts. "Did you choose this?"
"Let me explain."
"Answer me! Did you choose this or did Rafe force it on you?"
"I chose it," I say, my voice barely making it past my lips. "I'm tired of being weak. I know Anthony said words can be just as powerful as weapons, but right now we need strength if we’re going to get Colt and Max back. We don't have much time."
He nods his head as if he understands. "I'm not going to judge you. I would've made the same decision in your shoes, but I only hope you made it with all the information. I know Rafe. He only cares about the results and not who gets hurt in the process. What price did you have to pay for whatever it is they gave you?"
I glance away. "It doesn't matter."
"It's going to matter to Colt and to your family. Thank goodness there's a cure should you ever develop the Kiss. Otherwise, I don't think anyone would forgive you."
I attempt to swallow, but my throat is so dry I cough instead. I can't tell him that there is no cure that will work for me. My fate is sealed.
Saving Eden (Original Series book 3) Page 8
