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Authors: Megan Thomason

BOOK: daynight
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“Infinitely less risky than what you’re about to do,” I say.

“Just give us three hours to get in and out and have that barrier down at 2230 hours sharp,” he says.

“OK,” I say. “But, I just want to be on the record that I think this is a bad idea from everything I’ve heard and seen. I’ll do what I can to preserve lives, but I think you’re making a huge mistake.” I still plan to ask Ted to disarm the barrier. I’m not sure I want to be anywhere near headquarters when this all goes down.

“Get off your high horse, Blake. We see the atrocities being committed by the SCI and we’re doing something about it. Unlike Doc’s bunch, we refuse to be a bunch of pansies who are fine to let those evil men continue to torment us—and the Second Chancers. Have a little faith. We know what we’re doing.”
 

He turns to leave without a goodbye. I surely hope he’s right. The largest security detail I’ve seen since I’ve been here came to cart off Tristan, Bri, and the other partiers. From our ‘aerial flight’ and visit to the scale model of the city I didn’t see any obvious place to stash large numbers of security men or an arsenal, but they could have just left something off the model or failed to fly over a secure area.

I retrace my path down the ledge and then jump off once I get inland, twisting my bad ankle again when I land on a rock that I didn’t see in the poor lighting. Great. Now my return trip will take longer. I’d estimate about an hour and twenty minutes, with a lot more uphill riding and energy spent. I have an uneasy feeling about my father’s plan. Everything rides on whether Ted is truly loyal and whether Brad Darcton and the Ten have more capability than my father thinks. I plan to distort the truth when I communicate my dad’s plans to Ted. I’ll tell him I need him to turn off the barrier to let my father and his team in and not tell him it’s their exit strategy. That way, my dad and his team will have a three-hour start and can hopefully avoid an ambush. Any advantage is better than no advantage.

The other thing that makes me feel uncomfortable about the plan is the invariable fallout if the Militants fail. Every Exiler knows about my involvement. So, if caught and questioned, there’s a high probability someone will give me up. How would the SCI handle my treason? Death? Exile? Or would they hurt Kira to get to me? What about our lab babies? Will they destroy them if their father is proven a traitor? I’ve always known the risk to me, but if Kira or the babies suffered for my actions… that I can’t deal with.
 

When I arrive back at my house, ready to collapse, I’m surprised to see Ted still there. I’ve been gone for at least two and a half hours, if not longer, and they look pissed.

“You aren’t supposed to exercise at all and you go ride for three and a half hours?” Kira says. Oops. My calculations on time gone were way off. “We were about to send out a search party.” I need to think up an excuse fast. A variation of the truth usually works best.

“I haven’t slept well lately… I’ve been reliving the explosion at the Eco barrier—having nightmares where all my skin melts off my body. I dunno… I just thought if I went back the spot that I might be able to get some sort of closure or whatever. Sorry, I know that probably sounds really lame, but… it’s the only thing I could think of to help me sleep better,” I say.

“I could have arranged to have you taken by mule,” Ted says. “It was irresponsible for you to board all the way to the beach. The doctor should be here any minute to give you a once over and make sure you haven’t done irreparable damage to your grafts.”

“I’m fine,” I say, a small deviation from the truth. “My back’s a little sore, but I just need to rest. And drink some water. It’s hot out there.” It was pretty stupid to leave without bringing at least a bottle of water.

“A little sore? I see blood on your shirt. And, where’s your watch?” Ted asks, pointing to my wrist.

“Oh, shoot. I must’ve forgotten to put it on,” I say. “Let me go grab it.” I slip away to my bedroom and put on the watch. Why would Ted say that out loud when he knows we’re being listened to? It wasn’t necessary and will just make the powers-that-be wonder what I’m up to. The fact he did it has my suspicion about Ted’s defection from the Exilers’ cause at an all time high.

I let the doctor check me out. I’m so severely parched that he has his nurse insert an IV and tells her to run three bags of fluids through me so that the grafts can rehydrate. Kira bails at the mention of the IV, knowing that it will involve needles. It takes six tries in four different veins to get the needle in. After the juice is flowing the doctor tends to the damage to my patches, stitching a few dissolvable sutures into a dislodged area. Then he wraps my ankle to stabilize it.

Once all needles and sharp objects are put away, Kira brings me some bland toast. I try to make some light conversation, but I can see she’s clenching her teeth to keep from chewing me out in front of company. She knows better than to discuss our issues within the walls of our house. So, she stays silent.
 

Maybe it’s better she’s ticked. If the Ten thinks we’re on the outs, there’s a chance she won’t be blamed or punished for my actions. It was far more irresponsible for me to start up a relationship with her than to board down to the beach. I knew better than to get involved, but did it anyway. I let myself be tricked into thinking I had hope of a normal future. People like me don’t get normal futures.

Whenever two good people argue over principles, they are both right.

Marie Von Ebner-Eschenbach

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kira

“So, you had plenty of time to think on your long ride,” I say to Blake.
His story about not sleeping and wanting to face the source of his nightmares is not believable. He could sleep like a baby even if tornado sirens were blaring. We are sitting on the upper path of the canyon looking out at the lights. Blake still thinks it is safe to talk here. I know that nowhere is safe, but can’t tell him. All I can do is persuade him to abandon everything he believes in—or he dies. “What’s your verdict? Adjust to life here or fight your father’s cause?”

“I want to support my father’s cause and be with you. If his mission fails, I’m all yours and we’ll do things your way. But I can’t abandon him or the other Exilers now. They’ve sacrificed too much for me,” he says.

“Is it worth your life?” I ask.

“I’m not really involved at this point. I got my dad his intel and now I just have to wait and see what happens, so don’t stress. I’ll be fine,” he says.

“Since you met with them on the beach you haven’t done anything to help him? No intelligence gathering? Nothing?” I whisper. Although I don’t want Brad Darcton to know the answer, I need to know whether Blake will lie to a direct question. I stare directly into his eyes so that he has to do it to my face. After finding out my entire relationship with Tristan was a sham, trust means everything to me. If I can’t trust Blake… if he can’t be completely honest with me, even when I completely disagree with his actions, then how can I possibly fathom spending my life with him?

“No,” he says, although he seems to be sweating more than usual. “What good would that do? It’s not like I could get any information back to my father in time to make a difference. I’ve done my part.”
 

“You’re sure that you aren’t keeping things from me? Because, whether it’s to protect me or avoid disagreeing with me, I’m not okay with dishonesty and secrets. After the whole Tristan and Bri thing I realized that trust is paramount,” I say. I’m giving him a second chance to fess up. He pauses for a few seconds before answering.

“Nope, there’s nothing important to tell,” he says, brushing some large beads of perspiration away from his eyes. “Other than the fact I love you.” He leans in to kiss me, but I pull away.

“The watch at the Festival? Your board trip? I
know
you’re lying,” I say, again with a whisper. “Plus, Ted told me about the passkey and code he gave you.” I stand up, brush off my pants and turn to leave. It’s time for me to do some thinking. He just lied to my face. Twice. Unbelievable.

“Kira, wait,” he says, popping up. “Let me explain.”

“No,” I say. “I gave you the opportunity to come clean.”

“You set a trap for me,” he says. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is lying to the person you say you love,” I say. “I thought we were partners—that we had each other’s backs.”

“So, that’s it? You’re done with me just because I don’t give you a freaking log of my whereabouts?” he says. Typical guy reaction. They’re the jerk and they try to make the girl look like a taskmaster.

“I think you know the difference between me being a control freak and you doing stuff behind my back that puts us in danger,” I say.
 

“Well, at least I didn’t go spend a few weeks with some girl behind your back,” he says. Ah yes, when the taskmaster accusation doesn’t work, he accuses me of cheating. “If you want to talk about omission, let’s talk about you and Ethan and what’s really going on between you two. Obviously you’ve had a thing for him for a while since you called me his name when you were all hopped up on TB.”
 

Blake has been relentless in his accusations about Ethan. He is one-hundred-percent convinced that Ethan’s in love with me and that I return his feelings. No matter how much I try to explain that Ethan’s heart lies elsewhere, Blake responds that ‘feelings can change.’ Sure they can. I know that. But Ethan’s been consistent about loving another girl since the first night I met him. So, Blake is just being jealous and paranoid.

“Let’s not, because we’ve already discussed it and it’s not at all relevant to you lying to me,” I say.
 

“You lied to me,” he says.
 

“I’m going now,” I say, throwing up my hands in defeat. “You go do your thing. I’ll be back later. After I’ve had a chance to cool down and think things through.”

“I bet you go see Ethan. That’s your plan, right?” he says. “You can whine about me to him, and he can comfort you and tell you how much better he is for you than I am.” Wasn’t my plan. Not until he put the idea into my head.

“Goodbye, Blake. I’ll see you later,” I say, done with the fight. How could Brad Darcton ever think I had a shot at getting Blake under control? I walk off, shaking my head, disillusioned about any hope of a happy ending to this bleak situation.

Not wanting to go home,
I take the mini-rail into the city, a couple short zips across the canyon to get to a residential area, and then walk around. Part of me wants to go see Ethan and the other part doesn’t want to validate Blake’s theory. It can’t hurt to at least figure out where Ethan lives, I think. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while and I have his address, so I start walking until I’m horribly lost. The heat is brutal, even in the middle of the night. My clothes are clinging to my body and my hair is matted against my head. A hubbub of activity under a portable spotlight catches my attention and I turn towards the crowd to find someone who can give me directions.

Bad move. As I approach I’m pummeled with dirty water along with the rest the onlookers. Dirty,
hot
water. Even the water in the main lines gets heated. On Thera, there’s no need to heat your water, only cool it. I try to brush the gooey, sticky mess out of my face so I can see. A young female worker apologizes to us and explains that a water main had broken earlier in the night. While they thought they had it fixed, the patch didn’t hold. Murphy’s law in action. The good news is that she kindly gives me directions to Sunflower Lane, where Ethan lives.

It occurs to me as I ring his doorbell that Ethan’s probably at work. And even if he is home, that he might prefer a visitor who isn’t covered with mud. On the short walk from the water main break to Ethan’s house, the mud dried to my body and itches like mad. Just as I turn around to leave, the door opens.

“Kira,” Ethan says, chuckling at my ridiculous appearance. “What happened to you?” He must’ve worked tonight. He’s in Garden City headquarters attire, which looks like it was designed just for him. The shimmery blue top matches his eyes perfectly, and the tan pants look as good as any pair of jeans would on the model-worthy boy. His appearance literally steals the breath from my lungs.

“Well,” I say. “I was walking around trying to find your place and happened upon a broken water main.”

“Come on in,” he says, looking me up and down. “I was going to come by your house, but you saved me a trip. I have a surprise for you, but first… do you maybe want to get cleaned up?”

“Getting cleaned up would be good. Unless you want mud all over your house,” I say as I come in and immediately remove my shoes. His house smells oddly like a fast food restaurant, which makes me really hungry. “What smells so good?”

“Stay here,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’ll be right back.” He returns a couple minutes later and has me follow him to the bathroom. A fresh towel, robe, and one of his shirts are on the counter.

“Just throw your stuff outside the door and I’ll wash and oven-dry your clothes. It’s as close to instant laundry service that I can offer here,” he says, brushing my mud-covered hair out of my eyes. “My shirt’s pretty big so I figure you can wear it as a dress in the meantime.”
 

“Thanks,” I say. He leaves and I take a look around his bathroom. Although it’s identical to mine, the products are suited to men. I undress and open the door to put out my clothes and am thankful to be largely shielded by the door when I find Ethan waiting to take my clothes. He blushes, I bite my lip, and hand him my filthy attire before closing and locking the door. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but want to secure any possible temptations. On both our parts.

Despite it being awkward to bathe in his house, I take a quick shower, dry myself and put on Ethan’s shirt over my wet, but still clean underwear. The shirt’s barely passable as a dress, extending no more than six inches past my butt, but it’ll have to do. I crimp my wet hair with my hands and use some lotion on my face as men aren’t issued makeup. After, I join Ethan in the kitchen to see the source of the smell.

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