But she was locked in a stare-down with Ford, neither of them registering my existence, and I held my breathing, waiting for her answer, praying that she would for the first time in her life admit that she had the right to want something. Say it, Ariane. Please!
Ariane shook her head. “I did,” she said slowly. “But what difference does it make now?”
Ford straightened up, though it must have been painful. “It always makes a difference. What we want matters, even if no one else will acknowledge it.”
I felt like I was eavesdropping on a conversation in code. Something was happening; I could feel it in the weight of the air. Everyone else could too, evidently. Even Rachel and Laughlin had gone silent, watching the exchange.
“If these men do not start the program again, another will,” Ford said in a warning tone.
Ariane nodded with a confused frown. “I know. But at least we can stop these from—”
“Then you know what needs to be done,” Ford said, as if this were the end of a long discussion.
Then she looked straight at me with that flat but somehow still defiant expression. “Family first,” she said, her normally uninflected voice carrying a tremor of emotion.
Ariane’s eyes widened then, a spark of alarm within them. “Ford, no.”
But before she could say anything more, Ford stepped out of the way, leaving Laughlin and his gun aimed at us. Her intent was clear: she was going to let him go and he would fire on us. He wouldn’t be able to stop, even if he wanted to. His finger was already pulling on the trigger.
“Ariane,” I shouted, dropping to the ground and covering my head out of instinct and the very near and real memory of being shot. Rachel shrieked and hit the floor, following my lead.
The pressure change in the air when Ford released her hold on Laughlin and the others was palpable. And immediately after, the sound of multiple shots echoed loudly in the enclosed space, making it impossible to tell where they were going.
With my head down, I didn’t have a clear view of everything, but peering through a gap between my arm and the carpet, I could see enough.
Ariane didn’t run or duck. Instead, she lifted her hand in a wide-sweeping arc that was almost a blur.
Bullets hit the wall behind Laughlin with a quick rat-a-tat sound, knocking bits of drywall to the floor.
Then it went quiet. Even the police outside had stopped trying to get in. Or maybe I couldn’t hear them anymore over the ringing in my ears.
I scrambled to my feet. “Are you all right?” I asked Ariane, searching her for wounds and finding no obvious ones.
“I am.” But she didn’t sound like it.
Ford swayed on her feet, turning toward us as she did, and I saw the new hole in her ribs, just below her heart. She’d caught one of the bullets Ariane had deflected.
Oh, shit.
Ford sank to her knees.
“No,” Ariane whispered, moving to her side.
I stayed back, giving them some room.
“We could have found another way,” Ariane said, her eyes bright and overflowing with tears.
Ford shook her head, her face a mask of pain, blood trickling from her mouth. “Your human is right. There is no other way for me. And I couldn’t let him go.”
I didn’t know who she meant by “him” at first, until I realized that Laughlin was no longer standing. A quick glance at where he’d been showed him on the ground, gun still clutched in his hand. Ragged red circles now decorated his forehead and his cheek.
I grimaced and looked away.
Ford had done it deliberately, knowing Ariane would protect us the only way she could. It was a testament to Ford’s character that I wasn’t sure if she’d used Ariane or protected her from the guilt of doing what needed to be done.
“You will make sure that it never happens again,” Ford said, her gaze seeking Ariane’s for confirmation. “If we are all one, all of us who suffered and died and hang in display cases for the humans’ pleasure and advancement, then someone must stand for us.”
Ariane shook her head with a bitter smile, tears leaving bright tracks down her face. “It should never have happened at all.”
“And yet we are here….Here you are.” Ford coughed, spraying blood in a fine mist.
I swallowed hard. Ford had made our lives more difficult, unquestionably, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see her die.
Slowly, Ford sat on the floor and then lay down, curling up on her uninjured side, like she was preparing to go to sleep.
“Ford.” Ariane reached for her hand, taking it into her own, the same slim, long fingers entwined. “I can’t…I don’t know if…”
But Ford’s eyes were now fixed at some point beyond Ariane, beyond this room, perhaps. “I wish I could have seen the mountains,” she said, the words barely understandable over the liquidy sounds of her breathing.
I had no idea what that meant. Maybe nothing, a product of whatever dying vision she was seeing. But Ariane’s shoulders bowed in grief, as if she understood.
And when Ariane rose to her feet a few moments later, I knew Ford was gone.
“Are you all right?” Emerson asked from his corner of the room. I looked over to see him standing up cautiously.