by Tarah Benner
There’s a fire burning in his eyes that tells me he’s all in. My brother never does anything half-assed, and I’m using that against him. He’s gonna lead us right into the drifters’ nest, and we’re gonna steal the cure right out from under them.
“You hungry?” I ask.
Owen nods.
“I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
I stand up to leave, and Owen follows suit. At first, I think he might walk out of the tent, but then he opens his arms and draws one around my shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, but it’s full of hope and relief.
I slap him on the back once and pull away before my conscience gets the better of me. I can’t fuck this up.
As I leave the tent, I start to wonder who the worse brother is. Owen may have made all the wrong choices, but he’s not a liar. I always try to do the right thing, but it almost always comes back to hurt the people I love.
* * *
I don’t have a chance to talk to Harper in private until dinnertime.
When I finish my last round of repairs, most of the Recon people are washing up or making food. Harper is seated next to the fire on one of the extra folded canvases, watching a pot of noodles simmer over the flames.
She’s abandoned her air filtration mask, and by her haunted expression, I can tell she feels just as sick as I do.
“He bought it,” I murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Really?” She sits up a little straighter and turns to face me. “What did you say?”
“I said it was only a matter of time before we caught the virus and died. Leaving seemed like the safest option.”
She swallows. “And he believed you?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I told him you were scared . . . since you’d seen what the virus could do at 119.”
“That’s good,” she mutters. “So we’re . . .”
I swallow. “Yeah. We’re leaving tonight.”
There’s a long pause as Harper digests that news. Her hair casts a shadow over her face, but I can still read the anxiety in her expression.
I wish I could somehow make this easier for her, but I can’t. So I just reach for her and pull her into my lap. She settles against me, and I pull off my mask so I can plant a kiss on her warm lips.
After everything with the virus and the drifters, I haven’t had time to process what happened between us that night on the observation deck. But with Harper draped over my legs and her lips fluttering against my mouth, my body suddenly remembers exactly what that felt like.
One of her legs falls over mine so that she’s straddling me, and I press my hand against her ribcage so I can feel the softness of her chest. It’s the closest I can come to groping her out in the open.
Her kiss is heated and frantic, and with so much body-to-body contact, it’s all I can do not to rip off her tank top and maul her right here in the middle of camp. When she grips the back of my neck and grinds against me, I suddenly wish that Owen wasn’t occupying our tent.
The echo of approaching voices draws us out of our little bubble. Harper slows her torturous kisses and slings her leg back over.
As she settles down beside me, reality comes crashing down around us.
“We aren’t coming back . . . are we?” she murmurs.
“Not without that cure.”
She sighs and looks out over the desert with an expression of disgust. “There is no cure.”
I don’t want to pile onto her misery, but I also don’t want to give her false hope. So I don’t say anything.
“What are we gonna do?” she asks. “Out there, I mean.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think . . . Do you think Celdon could come with us?” she asks in a small voice. “If he stays . . .”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to. If Celdon stays, it’s only a matter of time before he catches the virus. One more dead friend.
Dread settles over me. I never told Harper about Celdon’s involvement with Constance, and now doesn’t seem like a good time.
“If he comes with us, he’s as good as dead,” I say as gently as I can. “The radiation —”
“He might have the mutation just like us,” she breaks in.
“We don’t know that.”
“But —”
“Even if he does, he hasn’t had any training,” I say in a firm voice. “He’s not ready for a life out there.”
“I’m not just going to leave him here to die, Eli!”
I shake my head. “He can’t come with us. And you can’t tell him we’re leaving.”
“Why not?”
“Constance could be monitoring our communication. If they get wind that we’re trying to escape —”
“Celdon has his interface blocked. They can’t listen in.”
“You can’t tell him, Harper!” I snap.
She jerks back, startled by my sudden outburst.
“What is your problem?” she whispers, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Listen. You can’t say a word to Celdon about this. I didn’t want to tell you, but . . .”
Harper stares at me, utterly bewildered about what I could possibly have to say.
“You can’t trust Celdon,” I murmur. “He’s been working with Constance.”
twenty-nine
Harper
Staring at Eli, it feels as if my whole world is crashing down around me. I heard him speak, and I saw his lips move, but nothing he’s saying makes any sense.
“No,” I stammer. “No. That’s ridiculous.”
Eli just watches me for a moment, as if he’s waiting for me to accept what he already knows to be true.
“Celdon’s not working with Constance. Constance tortured him, remember?”
“I don’t think he’s been working with them long,” Eli murmurs.
“What makes you think he’s . . .” I trail off, unable to put words to something so ludicrous.
“I saw him,” says Eli. “When I was being held and tortured by Constance. Jayden gave him a job to do. And then later he came to see me. He told me everything.”
I shake my head, thinking that if I just refuse to believe what Eli’s saying, I can somehow prevent it from becoming true. “He wouldn’t. I’ve known Celdon my whole life . . .”
Eli sighs. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not a bad guy. He helped me when I was being held prisoner, and he kept Jayden from luring Owen in.”
“Why would he —”
“I guess they told him they had information about his mother. Celdon joined to find out what they knew about her. I think he really believed he could get out after they told him what he wanted.”
Suddenly, everything makes sense. I would never have believed Celdon would do such a thing, but his mom is the source of all his fucked-up shit. Celdon always thought she abandoned him out on the Fringe, and I think that feeling of being unwanted, unworthy, and unloved drove him to self-destruct through pills and meaningless sex with strangers.
I thought I could make him feel better by telling him that his mom had been killed by the compound leaders, but lying was a mistake. And if Constance offered him a chance to put those old ghosts to rest . . .
“I’m sorry I had to tell you,” says Eli. “But now you know why he can’t come with us. You can’t say a word to him about this.”
I think I nod, but I can’t be sure. My head no longer feels as though it’s attached to my body.
I want nothing more than to prove Eli wrong, but his eyes say that he’s certain. I have no idea how long I sit there in front of the fire, but Eli leaves and reappears with Carter’s interface.
“I think you should talk to him,” he says. “Just to see him one last time.”
I take the interface between my shaking hands and slide it onto my ear. Even though Celdon is just a mile away, it feels as though I’m reaching out from the other side of the world.
The connection is staticky as the video call goes through, but to my
relief, Celdon answers.
Apart from the grainy video feed, Celdon looks like Celdon. He’s tired and a little pale, but his light-blue eyes are bright and healthy looking. If he is infected, he isn’t showing any symptoms yet.
“Hey,” I choke, forcing myself to act normal.
“Hey.” He glances from side to side as though he’s checking to make sure no one is watching. “How are you holding up?”
“All right, I guess.”
“I saw them shove all you guys out onto the Fringe,” he murmurs. “It’s fucking horrible.”
“You have no idea,” I say in a flat voice. “They . . . They shot my friend — Blaze.”
“What?”
I nod, trying to keep the rising tide of darkness inside me at bay as I recount the story. “The controllers were herding us out there like animals, and Blaze refused to go. They just shot him dead — right in front of me.”
“That’s horrible.”
I nod. “Is it true about Sawyer?” I ask in a small voice.
Celdon hangs his head, and in that moment, it seems impossible that he could be working against us.
“Yeah, it is. It was all over the news feeds. That AWOL guy stabbed her.” He drags in a shaky burst of air. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I should have listened. You knew those people were carrying the virus, and I didn’t believe you. I told Sawyer your theory, but —”
“It’s not your fault,” I croak. “You warned her. She knew the risks.”
“That asshole stabbed her in the chest. She’s in isolation. They won’t even let me see her.”
Celdon’s voice cracks, and he breaks off. I’m a little taken aback by this display of emotion. Celdon and Sawyer were little more than grudging allies, and I didn’t expect this to affect him so dramatically. Maybe he’s faking it for my benefit.
“Where are you?” I ask, studying the dark background.
He shrugs. “Nowhere.”
He isn’t sitting in the dark; the walls are dark. He isn’t in his Systems cube or his compartment. He’s in Information.
My heart sinks. Eli was right.
A fine sheen of sweat has broken out over Celdon’s forehead. He glances up at something beyond his interface and clears his throat. “Listen, I need to let you go. Things are . . .”
“What?” I snap, unable to keep my new discovery to myself. “Things are heating up in Constance?”
A look of shock and horror flits across Celdon’s face. He schools his expression quickly, but he’s still watching me with poorly concealed panic in his eyes.
“Harper . . .”
“I can’t believe you’d do this,” I mutter.
“It isn’t what you think.”
“How is it not what I think?” I ask, my voice climbing in pitch.
Celdon’s eyes are wide and serious. “Trust me.”
“How long?” I demand.
“What?”
“How long have you been working with them?”
“I —”
“How long?” I yell.
“Not long. I swear.”
“Since I told you about your mom?”
He swallows. “Yeah.”
“You just sat by while I was arrested and Jayden brought Eli in to be tortured. How could you do that?”
“Harper, I tried to warn you about Owen. I took a fucking beating trying to warn you. And I didn’t even know Eli was in Constance until just before they released him.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Harper, how long have we known each other?”
“I’m not sure I ever really knew you. I never thought you’d go and do something like this.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Celdon’s gaze shifts beyond his interface and flashes nervously back to me. “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything later. It will all make sense as soon as I tell you. But right now, I have to go.”
I nod, feeling too disgusted and betrayed to speak.
Celdon glances through his interface projection again. The voices in the background are growing louder, and I would bet they’re approaching whatever little cubby he’s holed up in.
“I’m on your side,” he whispers in desperation. “Please, Harper. You have to believe me. I’m always on your side.”
I shake my head to fend off the tears gathering in my eyes.
“I have to go,” he says in a rough voice. “I’m sorry.”
And then the screen goes dark.
I’m left sitting next to the dying fire wearing a stranger’s interface, feeling as though everything I know to be true has been pulled out from under me.
Celdon is in Constance. Celdon, my best friend in the entire world, has been working against me.
“I’m sorry,” says Eli. “I wish you never had to know.”
“You should have told me,” I say in a hoarse voice. “But I know why you didn’t.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know how. And with everything that’s happened . . .”
I nod. I’m not angry with Eli for keeping the truth from me. I’m not even that angry at Celdon. I just feel lost and empty. Everything is so messed up.
“Hey!” calls Lenny, striding toward us at a limp.
My heart sinks, and I glance up at Eli. His expression tells me what I already know: We can’t take Lenny with us either. Between her bum leg and her gunshot wound, she hasn’t been getting around very well. She won’t stand a chance where we’re going.
“Hey,” I sigh in a weary voice.
Eli squeezes my shoulder once and walks off to let us talk.
“What’s wrong?” asks Lenny, coming over and sitting down on the canvas next to me. The movement looks as though it pains her, which just confirms my conviction that she has to stay here.
“I just heard about my friend Sawyer,” I say slowly.
Lenny’s creamy skin looks pale under all those freckles, and she leans forward. “Is she all right?”
I shake my head. “She was the one who tried to stop that AWOL guy from spreading the virus. He stabbed her, and she was infected.”
“Oh my god,” says Lenny, shaking her head.
Then she reaches out and places one small hand over mine, and I almost burst into tears. It’s not just Sawyer that I’ll lose if the virus continues to spread unchecked. I’ll lose Celdon, Lenny, Bear, Kindra, and Miles.
“I’m so sorry, Harper,” she murmurs.
I nod, trying to keep it together long enough to decide what I’m going to say to her.
“Listen. I’m going to tell you something that’s going to sound crazy. But you can’t tell anyone, and I’m not going to be able to answer all your questions.”
“Okay,” she says, not batting an eye.
I take a deep breath. “Eli and I are leaving the compound.”
“What?” she splutters, her huge green eyes growing wide and round.
“We’re going to try to find a cure to the virus,” I say. “And to do that, we have to find the drifters who released it.”
“A cure?” Lenny shakes her head, making her red curls go haywire. “What the hell are you talking about? You think the drifters are responsible?”
“Yes. That virus came from a CDC facility in Colorado. It was preserved in one of the compounds, and the drifters got ahold of it.
“The outbreak at 119 was no accident. The drifters released it. But Shane Adams seems to think they wouldn’t have introduced it to the compound if there wasn’t a cure.”
“H-how do you know all this?” Lenny asks, closing her eyes in confusion. “And what’s Blaze’s dad got to do with this?”
I sigh. “I can’t tell you. That’s all I can say right now.”
Lenny opens her eyes, fixing me with a suspicious, almost distrustful look that I’ve never seen from her before. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know something else. But I can’t tell you how I know it.”
“What?” Judging by the expression on her face, she’s wishing she d
idn’t have to ask.
“The drifters are going to attack again. I don’t know when, but I know it’s happening . . . probably in the next couple days while we’re weak from the outbreak.”
Lenny’s face drains of color, and she swallows twice before answering. “Wh-what should I do?”
“Wait until sunrise, and then tell the other officers what I just told you. They’re going to be looking for us, but you have to keep them focused on the drifters. Keep your eyes open, and keep yourself safe.”
Lenny’s eyes are wide, and her hands are trembling with fear. But Lenny’s strong, and I know I can trust her. She nods twice and pulls me in for a tight embrace. I squeeze her back, hoping this won’t be the last time I talk to her.
By the time she pulls away, Eli is walking back toward our tent, carrying a ragged rucksack. His somber expression tells me he must have said goodbye to Miles and explained our plan.
Lenny follows my gaze and nods slowly. She doesn’t ask to come with us or beg us to stay. She knows what needs to be done, but she also knows her limitations. More importantly, she knows what she can do to help, and she’ll get it done.
“Good luck,” she whispers, diving in for one more quick hug.
“Thanks,” I say, giving her a squeeze.
She gets up to walk away, shooting Eli a knowing look. Eli gives her a weary nod and then jerks his head toward the tent.
I follow him inside, where Owen is pacing between the bedrolls in a tight circle. Maybe he was worried Eli would change his mind and decide not to come with him after all, but he calms down a bit when Eli starts packing.
He shoves a few water bags into the bottom of the bag. Then he adds a handful of ration packets, extra ammo, a first aid kit, two knives, and the thin blankets from Operations.
“Anything you want to put in here?” he asks me.
I shake my head. All my stuff is back in my compartment. There’s no way to get it now.
Eli gives me a sympathetic look and reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. Then he strips off his jumpsuit and pulls on jeans and the nondescript navy T-shirt he wore the other day.
“I kind of stick out in orange,” he mutters.
“You’ll have to ditch those masks,” Owen adds. “I have some normal clothes back in the truck that will fit her. Nobody can know you’re from the compound, and those uniforms are a dead giveaway.”
