by Tarah Benner
“You’re unbelievable,” I snarl. “The people out here — the ‘lowlifes,’ as you call them — are defending this compound from drifters day in and day out.”
“Of course they are,” says Shane. “And they’re doing a fine job. But what are they doing at night, huh? I’m sure you’d like to think that your handsome lieutenant is a saint, but men are men, sweetheart, and young Mr. Parker is no different.”
I glare at him.
“Besides . . . the men risking their lives for this compound deserve a little fun before they’re killed by drifters.”
“Shut up!” I snap. “You don’t know anything about Recon or the drifters.”
“That’s why I stick to my areas of expertise, Miss Riley: entertainment, recreation, and young ladies.”
“Drugs, parties, and prostitutes,” I spit.
“Oh, come on now. It’s just business. No reason to be bitter. You’re good at what you do, which is why I brought you here.”
I finally manage to wriggle out of Marvin’s grip and back up into the corner of the tent. “You had your men kidnap me so you could ask for a favor?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Miss Riley. I just want you to fulfill your end of our bargain.”
“What do you want?”
Shane looks at me with an amused expression playing in his eyes and tilts his head to the side. “I want you to bring me the cure.”
There’s a long drawn-out silence as the full impact of Shane’s words hits me.
“You want what?”
“The cure!” he says, thrusting his arms forward as though this is obvious. “The cure to this goddamned virus!”
I let out a crazed laugh. “Oh my god. You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head. “You think you can have whatever you want just by asking for it, don’t you?”
“History is the best teacher, Miss Riley. And a man in my position tends to get the things he asks for.”
“If there were a cure, don’t you think the people at 119 would have found it?”
“The folks at 119 didn’t know what hit them,” says Shane. “They were completely blindsided by that virus, so they had no idea how to keep it from spreading. Nobody at 119 even looked for a cure. They were too busy trying to treat it like any other virus. By the time they figured out that nothing was working, it was too late. I’d like to see that go down differently here, wouldn’t you?”
“What makes you think a cure even exists?” I ask. “The drifters released that virus to wipe us out.”
“Not if it meant wiping themselves out in the process,” he murmurs. “Look, the way I see it, those people haven’t survived out there this long by being stupid. They wouldn’t have created a full-scale epidemic unless there was a way to control it. What if someone from the compound carried it back to their people, huh? They know it would devastate their ranks just as quickly.”
I shake my head. “They got that virus from some compound in Colorado. It was just a sample of a virus the government was trying to keep contained. There was never any cure.”
Shane fixes me with that steely gaze of his and pokes his finger at my face. “I say you’re wrong.”
There’s a long pause as we size each other up, and I briefly wonder what he’s going to do when I say no.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, trying to take the edge off my refusal. “But I’m not going out there looking for something that doesn’t exist. It’s suicide.”
A cloudy look flares across Shane’s face, and I have a sudden flashback to the time he threw a glass tumbler at McMannis’s head.
“Are you telling me you want to back out on our deal?” he asks in a deadly voice.
“I said I would do you a favor. That offer still stands. But I’m not the right person for this job.”
Shane lets out a dark laugh. “See, this is where we disagree. I think you’re the perfect person for this job.”
I don’t say a word. I’m too busy waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Miss Riley, I’m Second Gen. When I came to this compound thirty years ago, I had absolutely nothing. They placed me in EnComm, and it took me nearly two decades to build my empire.
“In all those years, I learned one thing over and over: Nine times out of ten, the person best suited for a job is the person who’s most motivated to succeed.”
He stares down at me from under heavy lids, and I get a good look at the deep lines carved along the outer edges of Shane’s eyes.
“I have some information that might interest you . . . something that I think will make you very motivated to find the cure.”
“What’s that?” I ask, bracing myself for whatever threat he throws at me.
“I happen to know patient zero. You do, too, actually.”
“Who?” I growl.
“Your friend, Sawyer Lyang.”
Suddenly it feels as though all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. My body goes cold and rigid, and I’m having a hard time expanding my lungs.
“Sawyer?” I croak.
“Yes,” says Shane. “They’re calling her a hero. She tried to stop the AWOL operative from releasing the virus, but he stabbed her in the chest. Nasty business.”
“Is-is she okay?”
“She’s alive . . . for now. But you really have no time to waste.”
I take several seconds to collect my breath. My head is spinning, and it’s making me feel weak all over.
Sawyer is infected. The virus is raging through her system right now. In a few days, Sawyer will be dead.
Finally I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“Now, I’m sure you and Mr. Parker have a lot to talk about. And I myself have some family business to attend to.”
“Family business?” I repeat.
The tent is still spinning, but Shane’s words thrust me back into the present.
“Yes. Send my son over, will you? I’ve got something I want to ask him.”
Shane’s casual request throws me off balance. For a moment, I almost forget that Blaze is dead. I half expect him to walk in here, glaring up at his father but ready to accept whatever unsavory mission Shane asks him to complete.
“I can’t,” I choke.
“You can’t what?”
I turn my head up to Shane, unsure how to proceed. “I can’t . . . bring Blaze in here.”
“Why the hell not?”
“They killed him.”
A confused expression passes over Shane’s face, and the creepy man who distracted me exchanges a dark look with Marvin.
“Your son is dead,” I add quietly, as though whispering it will somehow dampen the harsh reality of the situation. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Marvin loosens his grip on me, and I can almost feel the tension in the room as the men watch for Shane’s reaction.
Now that I’m free, I feel as though I’m intruding. I grab my mask off the ground and back slowly out of the tent.
I’m already ten yards away when I hear Shane’s devastated howl. The sound is so primal that it feels like a knife to the heart. I drag in a shaky breath to keep the tears at bay, but I feel them burning up my throat and leaking out of my eyes.
When I slip back inside our tent, Eli and Owen are still fast asleep on opposite sides, looking like mismatched twins.
Eli is lying on his back wearing only a pair of athletic shorts. He has one hand resting on his bare chest while the other clutches the bedroll. Owen is dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a green jacket, but his sleeping position is identical to Eli’s.
Fighting the sense of helplessness creeping over me, I curl up next to Eli and smother my tears in the side of my pillow.
No matter where I go — no matter what I do — I can’t keep my friends safe.
twenty-six
Harper
After my talk with Shane, sleep becomes impossible. The air is still cool and light, but between Eli’s body heat, the lumpy bedroll, and my worry over Sawyer, I’ve never felt more awak
e.
I can’t imagine life without her. She’s been by my side ever since our first year of higher ed. Sawyer is such a formidable person. I can’t even imagine her being swept away by something as stupid as a virus.
The last time we thought we were infected, I was facing down my own mortality. But being healthy out here while Sawyer grows sicker and sicker in there makes me feel incredibly helpless.
I desperately need to talk to her, but they must have confiscated her interface. She hasn’t answered any of my messages since yesterday, and today I can’t even get them to go through.
The thought that I might never speak to Sawyer again is too horrible to consider. I can’t just lie here and worry.
Careful not to wake Eli or Owen, I slide off the bedroll and slip out of the tent. The whistle of the wind drowns out my loud thoughts, and for a few minutes, I experience the blissful relief of silence. Apart from the guards pacing the perimeter and a handful of ExCon early risers, camp is still fairly quiet.
Once I clear the rows of tents, I’m only a few yards out from the latrines. ExCon never installed showers out here, but there’s a well we’ve been using to wash up that draws from one of the compound’s main cisterns. It hasn’t been filtered, but it’s clean enough to wash away the sweat and dirt.
When I yank on the creaky handle, a lukewarm stream of water gushes out. I splash some in my face, desperately trying to clear my head.
Leaving the compound is suicide, and the chance of there being a cure is incredibly slim. But every second that I stand here and do nothing, Sawyer inches closer and closer to death.
I jump at the sound of footsteps behind me and clench my fists automatically. I’m just about to wheel around to strike Shane or Marvin when I feel familiar hands wrap around my waist.
Eli splays his palms over my stomach, and his warmth makes my heart flutter.
“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling me against him.
“Hey.”
It’s all I can do to keep my voice from cracking on that single word, but Eli hears my worry and pivots me slowly until I’m looking right at him. His blue eyes search my face with concern, and he plucks the towel off his shoulder to dab at the water dripping down my nose.
The gesture is so sweet and tender that it makes me want to cry. With all the shit that’s happened, Eli is the one good thing that’s come out of all of it.
“Don’t worry,” he says, rubbing his hand down my arm and interlacing our fingers. “He’ll be gone by tomorrow at sundown. If he just stays in the tent today, nobody will ever know he was here.”
I sigh. He thinks I’m upset about Owen. But with everything else going on, him materializing in camp is the last thing on my mind.
“It’s not that,” I say, ducking my head as tears sting my eyes.
Eli drags in a sharp burst of air. “Hey, hey . . .”
His fingers find my chin and lift it so that I’m looking right at him. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head, trying to banish my tears so I can think more clearly.
“Harper . . .”
Eli’s eyes crinkle in pain. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, so he lifts his mask and plants a few soft kisses on my lips.
Miraculously, it helps. The contact is comforting, but it also grounds me in reality long enough to form a coherent sentence.
“Shane grabbed me when I came back from watch this morning.”
“What?” Eli snaps.
“Yeah. I guess Constance had him thrown out of the compound.”
“Shane was here?”
I nod, still trying to rein in the waterworks.
A murderous expression crosses Eli’s face. “What do you mean he grabbed you?”
“One of his guys distracted me, and the other pulled me into his tent. Shane was waiting there.”
Eli looks as though he’s about to march over there and stab Shane through the heart, so I continue. “Nothing happened. But Shane told me I still owed him a favor.”
Eli lets out an angry sigh. “What did he want?”
“He wants me to go out there and find the cure.”
“What cure?”
“Exactly,” I moan. “There is no cure. Owen never mentioned one, and if it existed, the people at 119 would have found it. I told him it was impossible, but —”
“But . . .”
“But then he told me —” I break off as a fresh wave of sobs threatens to overwhelm me.
“Harper, what did he say?”
“He told me Sawyer was infected. Sawyer was the person in the medical ward who tried to stop Xavier. She’s patient zero.”
Eli’s face drains of color, and the look in his eyes tells me that his worst fears have been confirmed.
“You knew?” I splutter.
“No! But I knew things were bad in the medical ward. I’d be surprised if she wasn’t infected.”
“What are we going to do?” I sob. “Even if there is a cure, there’s no way —”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eli sighs. “Shane thinks there is, so he’s going to expect you to go looking.”
“I mean . . . do you think it’s even possible?”
Eli shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess Malcolm might have been smart enough to have a contingency plan . . . just in case the virus found its way back to him.”
“But if there is, how are we supposed to find it? He could have it hidden anywhere.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We’d have to get close to someone on the inside . . . someone who knows Malcolm well . . .”
Suddenly, Eli’s expression changes. It’s as though an idea just occurred to him, and he glances back at our tent. He’s conflicted — that much is clear — and for a moment, I think he might reject the notion completely.
“There is one way we might be able to get inside.”
“Owen?”
He nods.
“No, Eli,” I groan, slightly crestfallen that he doesn’t have a better plan. “No. Owen would never agree to that. He wouldn’t help us before. He’s not going to turn his back on the cause now.”
“I know. That’s why we’re not gonna tell him.”
“Eli . . .”
“Look, he still wants me to leave here with him. If we say we want to go, maybe we can get him to lead us back to Malcolm’s gang. If we can convince the Desperados that we’re one of them, maybe we can get close enough to find the cure and bring it back to save Sawyer.”
“What makes you think they won’t just shoot us on sight?” I splutter. “We’re the enemy, Eli. If we march into their camp —”
“I know it’s a long shot,” he interjects. “But right now it’s our only chance.”
I’m still shaking my head, as though my refusal might make Eli realize what a terrible idea this is.
The drifters treat compound people the way we treat them: Shoot first, ask questions later. Even if we managed to infiltrate their ranks unscathed, they would never trust us enough to divulge where they’re hiding the cure.
Then there’s the issue of the much less charming Parker brother.
“Owen’s never going to buy it,” I murmur. “He isn’t going to believe that you suddenly changed your mind and decided to join the cause.”
“I can handle Owen,” says Eli.
“How?” I snap. “From what I’ve seen, Owen can barely handle Owen.”
“You didn’t hear him last night,” says Eli, running a hand over his head. “He was begging me to forgive him.”
He swallows and fixes me with a determined look. “He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he’s not a sociopath. It’s eating at him, what he did. He wants to make things right between us. I think if I told him I wanted to come, he’d jump at the chance.”
For a moment, I just stare at Eli. I’m a little shocked by what he’s suggesting, but right now it’s the only way to increase Sawyer’s odds of survival.
“Are you sure this is something you can live with?” I ask. “Lying to Owen? Tricking hi
m into thinking . . . what? That you forgive him? That you want to be a family again?”
Eli sighs and looks off at the horizon. “I don’t know. But the way I see it . . . Sawyer isn’t the only one who’s going to die if we don’t find a cure to that virus. It could wipe us out. We don’t really have another choice.”
I want to tell Eli that he doesn’t have to do this. I don’t want to put him in the position of doing something he may later regret. But he’s right: Our options are extremely limited. And if there’s even a shred of possibility that a cure does exist — if there’s any hope of saving Sawyer and the rest of the compound — then we have to try.
By now, more workers are beginning to stir. People are milling around their campfires, trying to stoke the flames back to life to cook some oatmeal.
Soon Eli will have to join the other ExCon guys in repairing the solar panels that were damaged in the shootout, and I’ll have to report for training with my squad. It’s strange to think that life will continue as usual despite everything that’s happened.
Eli lets out another heavy sigh and meets my gaze. “If we do this, Harper, that’s it. If we don’t find a cure, we can’t ever come back.”
“I know.”
Staring out at the Fringe, I try to imagine what it would be like to live out there. In truth, I can’t even fathom trying to eke out a living in the harsh desert, dodging enemy gangs and avoiding the Recon patrols.
But I can’t imagine life without Sawyer either. Losing her would kill me.
I nod slowly and meet Eli’s gaze so he knows I’m serious.
“I’ll talk to Owen when we break for dinner,” he says. “See if you can gather us some supplies. If he buys it, we leave tonight.”
twenty-seven
Sawyer
Ever since I was a little kid, I knew I wanted to work in Health and Rehab. Whenever I got sick or came in for my yearly physical, I never felt like a patient; I felt as though I was on a field trip shopping for my future career.
I’d watch the important-looking doctors and researchers move down the tunnels and feel jealous that they got to spend all their time working in the clean, beautiful medical ward.
