Gravity (The Taking) (12 page)

“We have to get out of here. Now.” He grabs my hand and drags me through the door of station nine and into a cloud of smoke. At first I think it’s part of the simulation, but then smoke spills into my lungs, and I cough, clamping a hand to my mouth. “There’s been an explosion,” Jackson says. “I don’t know where. We have to get out.”

We reach the exit to the gym before I’m able to wiggle from his grasp. “I can’t leave Gretchen.”

“She was in two. Come on.” We rush through the smoke, barely missing people as we go. How Jackson finds station two, I’ll never know, but he has the door open and pulls Gretchen from the center of the room, headset still over her head. She screams and fights against him until I yank the headset off and force her to look at me.

“We have to go!” I say and tug her toward the door. She pulls back, but then her gaze shoots past me, her eyes widening. She nods without a word. As soon as we’re out of her station, I realize we can’t leave everyone else. Jackson must sense my thoughts and rushes from station to station, opening the doors and commanding everyone to run. Most seem as confused as Gretchen, but eventually the smoke causes primal instinct to kick in.

A voice comes over the intercom instructing students, by code, to the secret exits and protective shelters planted around the school. They’ve been ingrained in us as prep for war. Chaos ensues in the gym as the announcement sparks fear and worry. People begin to shove others out of the way, desperate to get out. This feels like a war.

I motion to the emergency exit doors of the gym, where bright red lights flash, directing us to safety. Gretchen looks hesitant—the doors are all the way across the gym and the main doors that exit into the school are closer. “No, let’s go this way,” she screams over the high-pitched alarms echoing through the school.

I shake my head and point to the emergency doors. “Those go directly outside of the grounds. Come on, we don’t have time to argue.” Just when I’m about to drag her with me, the ceiling starts to cave in, debris crashing to the gym floor. I duck down, covering my head with my arms, and when I stand back up, she’s gone. “Gretchen!” I spin around and around. “Where are you? Gretchen!” Nothing. Panic crawls up my spine. “Jackson?”

“I’m here. She ran; I’m not sure where. We have to get out of here.” He grabs my hand and directs me toward the emergency exit, but it’s a dead end. Debris is scattered all in front of it, blocking access to the door.

“This way.” I tug Jackson to the left toward Coach Sanders’s office, which I know has its own exit to inside the school grounds. We rush through the hallway, pass his office door, and turn left down another long hallway with a door at the end. But once we barrel through the door, the world stops, as if in slow motion.

Smoke floats through the air, heavy, suffocating, so much worse than the smoke in the gym. My eyes dart left and right. Coughs chorus from every direction. Everyone’s running. A boy falls to the ground. I reach out for him, but Jackson gets to him first, standing him up and pointing him to the exit closest to us. The boy stumbles forward and I fear he’s going to fall again and we’ll be gone and no one will help him. “We can’t just—” Then I look around. There are too many to count. Girls and boys coughing and sputtering on the ground, some crying, all paralyzed with fear. I rush to a tiny girl hunched in the corner to my left and motion for Jackson to help another one a yard or two away. I’m not leaving this building while all these people are inside. We lead the two girls out the main double doors and turn back to go get more, but this time thirty or more students who were safe outside now rush in after us, everyone joining together to save as many as possible. Finally, emergency medics arrive and usher us outside. I start through the crowd, eager to find Gretchen, when an overwhelming pain slices through my head and I collapse to the ground, screaming.

“Ari!” Jackson reaches for me. “What is it? What’s wrong?” My head twitches, and I wrap my hands around my skull as if I can press the pain away. Jackson cradles me in his arms and starts to run away from the crowd. I want to ask where he’s taking me, but each second brings on a fresh wave of pain, like a heartbeat.
Relief-pounding-relief-pounding.
I bite down on my lip, tasting blood almost immediately, sure I’ll pass out any second from the pain.

“What happened to her?” a voice calls. Then fast footsteps followed by, “Where are you taking her?”

Lawrence? But I don’t dare open my eyes because I can still hear the piercing screams of my classmates and professors, inside the school and out. Screaming, so much screaming.

Before I know it, we’ve reached some alcove that feels spongy and wet. I open my eyes fleetingly. Jackson and Lawrence kneel beside me. They’re talking too quickly to keep up. The world spins in a mixture of pain and nausea and dizziness. I try to keep my eyes open but the pain slams them shut.

“Just do it!” Law commands.

I wonder who he’s so angry with when Jackson yells back, “It isn’t that easy! It’ll expose her. I can’t—”

I start to drift off, unaware of where I am or who I’m with or what’s happening.

“Do it now. Please, look at her,” Law says, his voice rattling.

A second later, I feel intense warmth, and then ice pours over my head, moving down my neck and into my body. I breathe in, and with each release the pain begins to diminish. More and more seeps into my body until it’s as though I’m floating through a gentle stream. My body is weightless matter, nothing more than a beating heart inside an empty shell. I’m sure I can open my eyes now, but I don’t. I want every bit of the icy liquid. I want it to never leave. Maybe I can stay here in the majestic stream, light and airy, without worry…without the screams.

CHAPTER 11

When I wake, I expect to see blood or bodies or, worse, nothing at all. I’m so afraid that I hesitate, my eyes closed while my mind processes my environment. I hear an argument, and then a door closes, blocking out the sound. I sit up as my mom comes toward me with a tray of food.

“I’m so glad to see you awake,” she says, placing the tray on my nightstand. “How are you feeling?” She runs a hand over my forehead and through my hair before easily patting my back as though I’m a young girl again.

“I’m…okay. What about everyone else? What happened?”

She sighs that long, drawn-out breath that means she’s trying to avoid the question. “There was an electrical fire at your school. What do you remember?”

I remember Jackson and Lawrence and… “Where’s Gretchen?” I barely remember being taken from school, but somewhere deep in my fractured mind I remember not knowing where Gretchen went and worrying whether she would make it out.

“She’s at the Medical Center, but she’ll be okay,” Mom says. “I spoke to her mom. She said Gretchen had a breakdown. Something to do with being pulled from the Op simulation too quickly. She’s fragile right now, but her mom assured me she would be fine and to let you know.”

I slump back against my pillows, relieved. I remember an excruciating pain just before I blacked out. That must have been my breakdown, but then…then came the cold. But not an agonizing cold, it was soothing, almost like drinking something iced on a hot day. I remember basking in it, not wanting it to end.

“Honey,” Mom says. “You have a few visitors. I’ve kept them away while you slept.” She shakes her head in obvious annoyance. “They refuse to leave until they see you.” She opens my bedroom door, and Jackson and Lawrence fight to get through the doorway. Mom rolls her eyes. “You have ten minutes. She needs rest.”

I wait until I can hear her descend the stairs to speak. “Why are you two together?” I ask.

“We— I— Jackson?” Law shoots him a look.

“A bomb was planted at the school,” Jackson says.

“Bomb? Mom said it was an electrical fire.”

Jackson stares at me, almost in disappointment, like he expects better than for me to just accept what someone tells me. “No. And we’re running out of time.” He paces the room, raking a hand through his hair and scratching his chin. “Zeus is growing impatient, and he’s not the sort of leader to care who he kills. I think… I fear…”

“Genocide,” Law says. The word hangs in the air, a dark cloud over us. “Which is why I had to help. I’m the next leader. Besides, Jackson thinks they’ll kill our mom soon if she doesn’t cooperate. That’s all he told me. He approached me as soon as he found out. I’ll admit,” he says, glancing at Jackson, “it took me a while to believe him, but there’s too much evidence. Plus—”

“Wait,” I say, waving my hands in the air, confused. “What do you mean o
ur
mom? Who is
our
?”

Lawrence’s eyes shift from me to Jackson. “Seriously? You couldn’t even be honest with her about that?”

“You’re…brothers?” I ask, putting it all together. I cover my face with my hands, wishing I wasn’t so tired so I could think. “Get out,” I say. “Both of you. I want to be alone.”

Jackson starts to explain, but I point at the door before he can continue. “I said, get out!” I’m so sick of all the secrets.

Mom rushes in, hearing my shouts. “What’s wrong?” she says to me.

“I’m tired.”

She looks from me to the two of them and nods. “Okay, guys, she’s had enough.”

Once they’re gone, I’m able to think through what they’ve said and what it means. I feel gross inside. Law kissing me in public all the time, like he was marking his territory. Jackson stiffening every time he saw Law with me. I can’t believe they didn’t tell me. No, I can’t believe
he
didn’t tell me, because I know this was all Jackson. He could have told me at any point that Law was his brother. Why not tell me? Why not be honest? I slump down in bed, wrapping the covers tightly around me. Exhaustion overcomes me, and before I know it I’m asleep.

When I wake it’s dark outside and my alarm clock reads one a.m. I slide up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and freeze as my foot connects with something hard.

“Glad to see you awake.” I lower my hands to find Jackson sitting at the foot of my bed. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

I hesitate, torn between telling him to leave and wanting to know more. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice hard.

He walks around the bed and sits next to me. “I’m sorry. It was selfish and mean. I just… I wanted you to trust me because of me, not because of him.” His face turns bitter, and I realize he’s jealous of Law.

“You know, honesty builds trust, not withholding stuff. And I was beginning to trust you, but now…I don’t know.” I lean back, taking him in.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

I stare out into my room, wanting to stay angry, but I can’t keep my curiosity from bubbling up. “So tell me how this works. How are you and Lawrence brothers?”

He straightens. “We’re not brothers. We may share the same blood but he isn’t my brother. I don’t know him, not really. My family is on Loge. To the Cartiers, I was just a mistake.” He pulls back, his face reddening, but not out of embarrassment, out of anger. “Did you know the patch used to not exist?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, years ago there was nothing blocking humans from seeing Ancients. You can guess what happened—hormones kicked in, attraction overcame logic, and a few mixed breeds were born. Sandra Cartier, my birth mom, was twenty-two when she had me. I think she cared for my dad, and he for her, but none of that mattered. My grandparents came for me. See, half human or not, once xylem enters our bodies, it multiplies. With half of me already Ancient, it took very little time for the xylem to spread. I became a full Ancient within three months of my birth. I never saw my mother, or even knew who she was, until I came here. My grandfather was afraid I would sense a connection to her and seek her out, so he told me everything. I agreed to not speak to her, and I haven’t. But once I learned she was in danger, I had to tell Lawrence… Regardless of what’s happened, I don’t want a war.”

“That’s horrible,” I say.

He glances up. “I know. I guess my grandparents assumed I would hate her for ditching me. I should feel that way, but I don’t.”

He seems so sad and broken that my body moves before I remember that I’m supposed to be angry. I lean in, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that sends a flood of warmth through my body. I ease away slowly, so slowly I can feel his breath against my neck, my cheek, my mouth.

Jackson separates, and it’s as though all the warmth in my body went with him. He smiles awkwardly and scratches his chin. “I thought you were mad at me.”

I look down. “I am, or I was. I guess I understand why you didn’t say anything, but that doesn’t make it all right. If you want me to trust you, you have to be honest with me. From now on, got it? And you need to trust me, too. This isn’t going to work unless we can be open with each other.”

He tilts his head as though contemplating something, and then finally says, “I do trust you, and I’ll prove it. Come someplace with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Jackson opens my window, letting in an easy breeze. I reach behind me for a sweater and slide on some shoes. “Okay, ready,” I say, then stop. “Wait, what about the Taking?” Most of his Takings lately have been short, but still he hasn’t missed a night.

“Nah, not tonight. You’re just recovering. I don’t want to risk weakening you.”

Jackson slips out my window onto a wooden ledge and waits for me to follow. The platform stretches from my window to a giant oak behind my house—the Ancient tree assigned to my family. I glance to my right and left, seeing tree after tree, all similar to this one, all allowing Ancients into homes along my street. It’s a surreal sight, viewing it from here. I’ve always known how the Taking process works, how an Ancient is assigned to each of us at age ten, but I’ve never witnessed a visual like this row of trees that shows just how connected the Ancients are to our lives. I can’t believe I’ve never walked out on this platform until now.

“We’re pretty high up, so watch your step,” Jackson says as he maneuvers his body under one of the branches. I freeze. We are seriously high up. My heart begins to race, and then Jackson swings through the limbs, his body curving and folding around branches as though he is one of those gymnasts in our athletic tablets. I watch him in awe. Then a thought leaks into my brain. Can I do that? Surely not, but something inside me screams that I can.