Rebellion (13 page)

But when I get there, even though I'm early, it's quickly obvious I'm already too late. I hear the screaming the instant I push open the door from the waiting room. I race down the hallway, following the screams to an open door. There I see the nurse on the floor, blood everywhere and the Enforcer waiting to clean up the mess.

It's not the same one as before, but she doesn't even bother to fight with me. She bolts the minute she sees me, bumping and knocking me to the ground in her hurry to get away.

The wheels spin in my head. Why would she do that? Enforcers don't run. They're supposed to stay and fight, no matter what their chances of survival are, but this makes two who ran from me. Someone they could easily take down. It doesn't make sense!

I don't have time to think about it as I pull out the device used on Dr. Moreau. The plans in Dr. Friar's notes say that the device can start and stop the disruptions in the nanos, but not if one particular device works for everyone, so I don't know if this one will work on the nurse, but I have to try. I hit the button and almost immediately the woman stops the bloodcurdling screams and folds in on herself, sobbing.

So I bend to help her up, only to stop short when I realize just how late I am. Both of the woman's arms are gone and half of her left leg. There are missing chunks all over her body, including one that allows me a glance into her stomach. She's bleeding out so fast from everything, I don't think there's anything I can do to stop it.

 

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Mr. Hunter is much like his father in that he believes he is above the law of common men. A reminder that he is in fact
below
common man might serve him well.

—
M
AYOR
S
T.
J
AMES'S JOURNAL

Gavin

I walk out of the mayor's office, confident I made my point. Of course, there'll be a consequence to my actions. I either made this worse or I fixed it. Either way, it feels great having done
something
.

Mrs. St. James stops me as I'm leaving, and for a minute I stand frozen in front of her. I did just knock her husband out.

“I'm sorry—”

“Shh!” she hisses, glancing at her husband, who still appears to be out cold on the floor. She grabs my hand and yanks me to the far side of the office. She glances back at the office door again, but only the top part of the opening is visible.

“I'm so sorry for your mother,” she whispers. “She's a good woman and doesn't deserve what my husband is doing to her or your family.” She glances back at the door. “But right now, you're making a big mistake.”

Of course I am. Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she
is
just like
them,
even if she grew up here. I give her a look filled every bit with the disgust and anger I feel.

“I know what you're thinking, but hear me out. I've been married to my husband for over twenty years. I know him much better than you do. And I will tell you that he is much worse than you can even fathom. He always gets his way. At whatever the cost. I do mean whatever the cost.”

“I've dealt with people like that before. He doesn't concern me,” I say, thinking of Mother.

She frowns. “I don't doubt that, but you must listen to me. He never says anything he doesn't mean, so he very much meant that your family will suffer if you don't do as he asks.”

“I don't know where—” I start, but she holds her hand up and I stop.

“We both know that's not true, but it doesn't matter, because I agree you shouldn't tell him where they are.”

I blink and stare at her. That is totally not what I expected from her. “You … don't want to know?”

She gives me a look filled with longing and hurt, but something else, too. Something I saw on Evie's face just before I left. Determination. To do the right thing, no matter what the personal cost is. “Of course I do, he's my son and I love him. But if my husband even thinks I have an idea where Asher is, I'll have no choice but to tell him.”

“Why?” But I already know the answer. I've seen the look in her eyes when I was a kid—it's the same look I saw in Johnson's dog's after Johnson had gotten done beating it. I was only six, but even then I knew what it meant.

She looks away from me and her voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it. “Do you really think that he'd be any different with me just because I'm his wife?”

“Why do you stay?” I can't stop myself from asking, but I know the answer to that one, too. It's the same reason the dog stayed with the Johnsons and the same reason Evie stayed with Mother: because they didn't know there were other options or were too scared to leave.

She finally looks at me, her eyes brimming with tears, but they don't spill over. Somehow that makes it even worse. “You have your secrets and I have mine. Let's just leave it at that.”

I nod, not sure what else to do or say.

“But never mind all that. You're going to need to tell him something and you're going to have to make it sound believable.”

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“That's something you're going to have to come up with on your own, but I suggest something that puts Asher and Evie together. Like they've run away together or something.”

“And me?”

“Well, you'd be hurt, right? You'd need time to accept that the girl you loved left you for your best friend. Don't you think?”

“He's not my best friend,” I mumble out of habit, but I'm not sure I mean it anymore. I did trust him enough to protect Evie in Elysium while I'm gone. “You really think that'll work?”

“I know my husband, Gavin, but I'm not an oracle. Just think about it. And steer clear of him until you're willing to give him an answer. He's not going to be happy with what you did.” She looks back at the door to his office. This time there's a slight groan, and panic crosses over her face. “Go! Now! I'll take care of this mess, but if you wish to help your family you need to go.” She practically pulls me to the front door and out of it. “Take some time to think about it. But not too much. He tends to get grouchy when he doesn't get his way.” The groaning grows louder and she slams the door in my face.

I do as she asks, but not without a bit of guilt. I wince at the sound of the mayor's angry shouts. I don't want to cause her any more problems and I have a lot to think about.

I leave the village. It's obviously not safe there. Nowhere to hide, even if the villagers were to help me. I don't want them involved in my mess.

I pass the guards and they back completely away from me. I don't even bother looking at them. I'm too busy trying to decide whether I should trust Asher's mom or not.

For hours I walk around the other side of the cove, where I did most of my hunting while Evie was here. There are lots of trees, so small game mostly, but it kept me close to her. There are plenty of spaces to hide, should the mayor decide he wants to come after me.

I still don't know what to do when night finally falls and I realize I haven't eaten anything all day. My mom is probably worried about me. So I make my way through the woods and to the edge of the cove, only to stop short.

There's an orange, flickering light emanating in the distance. A long column of smoke drifts into the sky from where my house is located.

“Shit!” Something's on fire. I just have to hope it's not the house. I'm able to delude myself into thinking maybe Tristan accidentally spilled some of the tallow oil when he was refilling the lighthouse and somehow lit the spill on fire while igniting the wick.

He's too small. Too young for all the duties that I've tossed at him. I want to scream and rage at the winds of fate for making me put him in the same position I was in at his age. Guilt eats away at my insides, though, that I didn't at least prepare him. For God's sake, I never even let him take care of the lighthouse. There's no one to blame for this mess but me, and I have to teach him to take over for me. I
will
be going back for Evie, and he'll have to take my place here.

I race across the sand, slipping in it, scraping my palms and face on it. People think sand is soft, but when you fall it can burn just like a cheap rug.

I reach where the fire is and stop short as I gasp and suck in air. But I'm already too late. The fire's obviously been burning for some time. The pump house is almost completely decimated.

Conflicting emotions clash in me. Relief it's not the house and pain for having lost the pump house, the one Dad and I built together. But it's just the pump house. Not the house. Not my family.

They're standing, watching it burn. I go to my mom and brother. Mom's crying a bit, and poor Tristan is standing there with a bucket of seawater, looking lost and slightly afraid. I don't even think they've noticed I'm here. I try to take it from him, but he turns to me, terror flying over his features before he yells, “No! Don't!”

“What…” I trail off when I see the two guards from the gate and Mayor St. James come from around the side of the house.

“Pretty sight, that, wasn't it? Fire always is. It purifies. Cleans unworthy things.” He smiles at me. The light from the fire dances off his face, making him appear more evil than even Mother. “This is your last warning, Gavin. Tell me where they are or your house will be next.”

I clench my hands into fists, and start to move in his direction, but Mom stops me by hugging me and pulling me back. “Don't, Gavin. Just leave him be.”

“Want a go at me again, boy?” He touches a hand to his cheek where I hit him. “I wouldn't suggest it.” The guards move forward to the well, and start destroying it and its components with sledgehammers.

I rush forward to stop them, but a man pops up behind me, grabbing my arms. He yanks them behind my back so hard the muscles in my shoulders would scream in pain if they could. Another guard slams his fist into my jaw, and I have just a moment to think how lucky I was I didn't bite off my tongue before he punches me in the stomach. Stars fly into my vision and I try to double over, but I can't because the other guy is holding me up. The second man hits me again in the same spot and this time when the stars burst into my eyes, the first guy lets me go and I fall onto the ground in a ball of agony.

Mom rushes to help me, but I spit out the blood that's accumulated in my mouth and push myself up to a standing position, even if I do stagger a bit. I won't give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing me down.

I glance over at the men smashing bits of the well off. I've fixed the damn thing enough over the years to know that even though the pump itself probably works, and water isn't spraying everywhere, the whole damned thing is toast. Anger fades to anguish as I realize what this means for my family. It's completely decimated, and we have no access to the parts we need.

The mayor grins at me in the still glowing embers from the pump house's remaining wood. “It's going to be tough living out here without fresh water, don't you think?” He wanders away, murmuring,

“… Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink…”

I wait until the sound of his footsteps die off and then kick at the sand. “God damn it!” I yell and spin around and kick the sand again. I pace, and even though my face, stomach, and head are pounding, I still pull at my hair.

Mom puts her hand on my arm. “It's all right, Gavin. We'll find a way to make this work. We always do.” I spin around on her, ripping my arm from her hand, choking on the hot ball of rage, pain, and anguish in my throat. She doesn't even wince, just lets her hand drop as I swallow several times, trying to get my breathing and emotions under control again.

We
do
always make it work. The pump has broken several times over the years and every time, Dad or I fixed it. But that was when we could go to the blacksmith for parts. Now we can't even do that. It seems I wasn't proactive enough. I ended up having to react. Again. Exactly what Mayor St. James wanted.

Dealing with him is like playing poker—a game my dad taught me to keep me busy on long hunting trips. No matter what hand you're dealt, there's always a way to win. Even if it's bad, you can still walk away with everything if you can bluff right. And if there's one thing I know about, it's how to keep a poker face.

In any deal, if you play your cards right, there's always a way to win. Even if you have to cheat a little to get it.

 

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

Today is to be a holiday in the memory of my daughter and her heroic sacrifice. Halt your duties, dress in your finest clothes, and join me in the Square to celebrate our safety, peace, and freedom! Long live Elysium!

—
M
OTHER'S SPEECH ANNOUNCING THE INAUGURAL
D
AUGHTER OF THE
P
EOPLE
D
AY

The nurse never stood a chance. She was lost before I even tried to save her, but I had to try. I grabbed gauze and dressing and tourniquets from the closet cabinets. Wrapped and covered and tied everything that even appeared to be injured. But still the pool of blood just keeps growing. My legs are coated in its sticky heat. My hands are stained red to my wrists as if I'm simply wearing gloves. I watch helplessly as my fight—and my pleas—to keep her alive go unheeded. The light in her eyes fades as her life flows out of her into the puddle I kneel in.