The Dead-Tossed Waves (24 page)

I clench and unclench my hands, frustrated at not understanding. “People don’t last this long infected,” I say. “It’s been too much time. I don’t understand.” They glance at each other and then Elias slowly stands. He picks up the knife I’d dropped by his head and holds it out to me, handle first.

“He’s immune,” Elias says.

I
stare at him, everything around us still and somber except for my heartbeat, which can’t contain itself. And then I stare at Catcher, waiting for him to explain. Because there’s no such thing as immunity. They’d have told us growing up if there were. “That doesn’t exist,” I finally say. “No one is immune. They’ve always made sure we understood that:
No one is immune.”

I look back and forth between Elias and Catcher. It’s what they tell us from when we’re old enough to listen. It’s what we’ve always known: There’s no cure, there’s no immunity, there’s no escape. Once you’re bitten, you’re infected and dead.

“You said it yourself. It’s been six days, Gabrielle,” Catcher says. “There’s no other explanation.”

But I’m looking at Elias. I’m trying to decide if I trust him. If I can trust a Souler. He seems to understand what’s going on here, to know more than he’s saying.

I want to believe him. I want to think that Catcher will be
okay. That I haven’t failed him. That something in this world can be good. Even though it goes against everything I’ve known and believed.

I have so many questions but only one thing matters to me now. I stare at Catcher, barely able to breathe. “You’re okay?” I ask him. “You’re … you’re better now?”

I watch as he clenches his hands by his sides. As the muscle along his jaw tightens and jumps. “I’m still infected,” he says.

“What does that mean?” I ask him.

Elias answers before Catcher can. “It means the Mudo don’t sense it when he’s around them. It means they don’t attack him. It means the infection won’t kill him—he won’t turn—”

Catcher cuts him off. “It means we can go home.” He walks over to me and takes my hand, presses it against his chest. His skin is so hot I can feel the heat of him through his clothes. “Go back to the way things were,” he adds. “Pretend none of this ever happened.”

Elias crosses his arms over his chest, his lips pursed tight. But I don’t care about him anymore. All I can feel is my heart singing. He’s okay. Catcher’s going to live! Just moments before, I thought he was already dead, already Mudo. I thought I’d never have the chance to talk to him again, to hold him and have him understand me. And suddenly all that fear is washing away and hope is budding inside me.

“We can go back to Vista, Gabry. We can go back to the way it was before. You and me and Cira …”

I lean my forehead against his shoulder so that he can’t see my expression. The air in my throat chokes me but whether it’s sobs or hysterical laughter I don’t know.

The reality of our situation strikes deep. He still thinks things can go back to how they were. That his infection is the only thing that’s happened in the past week.

But now I’ve killed someone. Even if I wanted to, I can’t ever go back to Vista. The Militia will find out it was me. They’ll execute me for killing one of their own.

It’s impossible for me to go home.

I can’t believe how out of control everything’s suddenly become. My deepest wish—that Catcher would be okay—has come true but at the expense of everything else. If I’d only known. If I’d even dreamed it was a possibility.

“Why didn’t they tell us about immunity?” I ask, my voice on the edge of a wail. It’s not fair, none of this is fair. My mind scrambles, trying to figure out a way to make it work, to get back to my old life but everything leads back to the reality of Daniel’s death and Cira’s punishment.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Catcher says, his hand wrapping around mine. “I’m okay, that’s what matters. I can’t wait to tell Cira.”

I’m already shaking my head and backing away. “You can’t,” I tell him. He steps closer but I hold up my hands, waving him away. “We can’t go back,” I say, almost choking on the words.

Elias says nothing, just tilts his head as he watches me, his expression unreadable.

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Catcher says, but I’m shaking my head.

“It won’t work,” I tell him. I twist my fingers, running the pad of my thumb along the cut on my hand, feeling the pain radiate up my arm, grounding me. “I lied about Cira,” I whisper.

I stare at the heat wavering on the concrete, at the clouds building in the sky above, anywhere but at Catcher. “They came after us that night, the Militia. I got away but the others didn’t. The Council voted to send them all to the Recruiters.” My voice is limp as I finish, afraid of what he’ll say.

Catcher’s head falls back. I watch as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. “You didn’t tell me,” he says, his voice even. “I asked about her and you said she was okay.”

“I know.” My words carry hardly any sound at all. I’m overwhelmed by how everything’s shifted and changed underneath me again. “I’m sorry,” I add uselessly.

He turns away from me, pushes his hands into his hair and yanks. “Where is she now?” he asks. His frustration and anger cut through me, slicing at my happiness that he’s still alive.

“They have her in the Council House.” I swallow. I want to explain, to tell him that I thought he was dying. That I didn’t want to add to his pain. But I don’t. “The Recruiters arrived today. They’d started the swearing-in ceremony when I came here.”

He bangs a fist against the stone arch and I jump at the sudden violence. I want to go to him, to pull away his pain and anger. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll push me away.

He places both hands on the wall and breathes deeply.

I look over at Elias. Embarrassed that he’s watching this, that he knows what I’ve done.

“We have to go get Cira,” Catcher says, his voice muffled. He turns to face us. “I’m not letting them take her. I told her I’d protect her and I will.”

“How?” I ask. “They’re not going to give her up.”

When he looks at me his eyes are cold and hard. “I don’t care,” he says. “I’ll find a way.” He stalks into the amphitheater, down toward the stage, and I start after him.

“Catcher, wait!” I call out. Without even turning around he throws up a hand, waving me off. I stand there watching him go, Elias behind me. I’m afraid to face him, mortified at being dismissed by Catcher in front of him.

Just when I thought I was putting all the pieces back together they’ve cracked and fallen into different patterns, this time with sharper edges. I don’t know how to make it work, how to make it right.

A familiar feeling of uselessness tingles inside me. “I’ve messed it all up again,” I say.

On the stage below, Catcher stands facing the tethered Mudo, staring at them. They don’t even notice his existence, don’t reach for him and it makes me feel cold. It looks so wrong to see him so close to them.

Elias shifts and comes to stand next to me. His hands are by his sides and I know that I’d just have to twitch my fingers to touch him, to feel his comfort.

“Why didn’t they tell us about the immunity?” I ask him weakly.

He sighs and raises a shoulder. “It’s rare, Gabry. Really rare. I guess they didn’t want people getting their hopes up, letting people turn just to see and causing the infection to rage again. Most people don’t know about it.”

What he says makes sense but I don’t care. I cross my arms over my chest, to avoid the temptation of touching him as much as to hold myself in. “How do you know it’s immunity? That he won’t turn in a few days? That it’s not just taking longer?” I hold my breath waiting for his answer, hoping that I’m wrong.

“Only the Immunes can do that,” he says, nodding toward Catcher. “I learned about it when I was in the Recruiters. Immunes are the only ones the Unconsecrated don’t sense.”

My stomach twinges at the word
Unconsecrated
. Thinking of my mother. Remembering that she’s gone. I shake the thought out of my head.

“It’s how I knew it about him,” Elias continues. “When the storm came in I thought you might not make it back. I went and brought Catcher here to the camp, figuring he’d need food and water while he waited …” He swallows, not wanting to finish the statement, and I look at him, examining his profile. A soft sheen of dark fuzz has begun to grow on his head and his skin is tan from so many days outside in the sun.

I have to ask him the question that’s been hammering in my mind. I take a deep breath, pushing my nails into the soft flesh of my arm to force the courage. “Would you have … I mean, if he’d turned, would you have done that to him? Made him into one of those?”

We’re both looking at the Souler Mudo, at their disfigured faces. The moans swirl around us like a breeze.

Elias scowls, his shoulders tense. “No,” he says simply. But I still don’t know if I can trust him.

“Why do you worship them?” I ask.

He takes a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips as he turns toward me. I notice again how his eyes are almost colorless, the sharpness of his cheekbones. “I don’t worship them,” he says.

I don’t understand. “But you’re a Souler,” I tell him, as if it’s obvious.

He studies my face and I want to look away from him but I force myself to keep his gaze. I squirm a little under his scrutiny. “I’m not a Souler, Gabry,” he says. “That’s what I was trying to tell you on the beach. I’m not one of them.”

My eyes widen and I shake my head, feeling as though he’s
playing some sort of trick on me. “But you’re here with them. You were there the other night. You watched them sacrifice that boy. And you’re dressed like them and look like them.” I could keep going but he holds up a hand for me to stop and I fall into silence.

He presses his fingers to his forehead, pushing at the skin as if trying to gather the words he needs. I bristle, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I told you I was looking for someone,” he says, and I nod. “It’s my sister. I’m looking for my sister.” He swallows. “I lost her.” I can hear the desperation in his voice and it makes me feel physically weak. I want to close my hand around his but a part of me is still suspicious of him.

“She was all I had left and I promised I’d take care of her and she’s gone. We’d been living in the Dark City but neither of us were citizens. I was only allowed in to trade and sometimes even then I could barely make the rents. I joined the Recruiters so that I’d get citizenship—so that I’d be allowed as a permanent resident of the Protected Zones and I could take her with me without having to pay anymore. But when I came home after serving she wasn’t there.” He pauses, wiping a hand over his face.

“I couldn’t find her anywhere and I thought maybe she’d been forced to leave. I had to find her.” His words come out in a rush, his voice cracked. “A single man can’t travel through the Protectorate. The roads are too dangerous, with Unconsecrated and bandits. Half the towns and cities won’t even let you in the gates if you’re alone.”

He leans toward me, speaking fast now, his breath weaving hot around us. “The Soulers are recognized by the Protectorate. They’re nomads—they can go anywhere and be
granted access. Joining them was the only way for me to search for her.”

It’s so much to take in at once that I feel stunned, having to retrace everything we’ve ever said to each other. To rethink every thought about him in the softer light of this new information.

His eyes are so earnest, so full of pain, that I want to believe him. I can see in his gaze that he needs me to believe him. “But you were there when they let that boy die. How could you even watch that? How could you be a part of it? How can you stand to be around them?”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “They’re not monsters, Gabry. Everything in this world isn’t black-and-white. They have their reasons for what they do, for what they believe, the same way we do.” He shrugs. “My sister means everything to me. I’ll do anything it takes to find her.”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear more. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I don’t know what to think.” My heart aches for him and his loss but I can’t reconcile it all in my head, can’t make sense of it.

I walk away from him, out of the shadow of the arch and down the bowl of the amphitheater toward Catcher. He still stands staring at the Mudo. I don’t get too close, a dread of their moans too deeply ingrained in me.

He turns to face me and I realize how terrifying it is, seeing him there so close to those monsters.

“I want to go back, Gabry,” he says. “I want it all to be normal again.”

Behind him the Mudo sense me, their arms reaching past Catcher for me. My breath catches as I try to swallow the
unease. I close my eyes against them, against him. More than anything in the world I wish I could give this to him: normalcy. But too much has changed. Because of me we can’t go back.

“I can’t go back to Vista,” I tell him. “I’ve done something. I’m in trouble. And you can’t either. They know you were there that night. You’ll get sent away with the others.”

“I’m not leaving Cira,” he says. His voice thrums around me and then I feel his hands grabbing mine. I open my eyes. His face is so close that I can’t help but flash back to the night we first kissed. “And I’m not leaving you either,” he adds, his voice softer.