“They hunted our ancestors. They were the predators. We were the prey. They chased our ancestors from their home world. They turned it into a barren, frozen mass. Now, they’re here, looking to conquer another planet. Earth. This planet. Our planet. That feeling of fear inside you is justified. It’s been bred into your genes. Into all our genes.” He gestures toward the others, who stand ready and alert. “But you have to master it. Beat it down. We’re not the prey anymore.”
His explanation is so far beyond believable that I want to discount it out of hand. But I don’t. For the first time, his cryptic assertions actually make perfect sense to me. But you have to master it. Beat it down. It’s a conundrum I know well: the need to stay when every instinct is screaming for you to go. I faced it every time I went to the hospital with Mom. I wanted to run as fast and as far as I could. From the tubes. From the machines. From the smiling nurses who hooked up bags of poison that drip, drip, dripped into my mother’s veins in an effort to kill the thing growing out of control inside her. But for her, for Mom, I stayed.
“My instinct is to run, but you’re telling me I can’t. And you’re telling me that somewhere inside of me, I know what’s waiting in there. Genetic memory.” At his raised brows, I clarify, “We talked about it in bio.”
“Genetic memory.” His lips shape that barely-there smile. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
“But why me? How am I supposed to do this? I’m not trained. Shouldn’t there have been boot camp or something?”
“Or something. This is it. You have your genetic memory, your instincts. Trust them. Besides, you are trained, more than most who get pulled. Kendo, right?”
I swallow and nod. He’s just added about a million questions to the billion already buzzing around in my brain. “You owe me answers when we’re done,” I say, reminding him of his earlier promise.
“When we’re done.” Jackson brushes the backs of his fingers against the backs of mine, the touch so fleeting I almost think I’ve imagined it. I feel his approval, his admiration, even though his expression doesn’t change.
“Here’s what you need to know right now. The things that are in there—”
“The Drau.” That’s what both he and Tyrone called them.
He nods. “They’re day walkers. The planet they come from is in an S-type binary star system. Their planet has two suns. That means that they live in daylight almost all the time. And that means that at night, they’re groggy and slower.”
“Like bears hibernating in winter,” Luka supplies.
Jackson doesn’t acknowledge the interruption. “By going in at night,” he continues, “we stand a better chance that all of us will walk out of here.”
“With our health still green,” I say, holding up my wrist.
“That’s the plan.” He pauses, and it’s clear that he’s battling over whether or not to say more. “I heard what you said earlier, about not being a team player—”
“I—”
“No.” He cuts off my attempt to cut him off. “Listen to me. Not being a team player is good. I don’t want you to be one. This isn’t a team thing, Miki. Not really. If push comes to shove, you need to be all about you. You need to make sure your health stays green. Forget about everyone else. Take care of you, because no one else can do it for you.”
And here I’d just started feeling a little warm and fuzzy toward him.
But he’s just voiced aloud my darkest suspicion, the belief that started the day Mom died: You can’t really count on anyone but yourself. Everyone leaves. “Is that what you do? Take care of you?” My cynicism leaks into the words.
“In the end, it’s what we all do.”
My mouth goes dry. “So despite what you said before, you’re not actually going to watch out for this recruit.” Why does that bother me? I’ve been relying on myself for a long time.
He huffs a short laugh, but it has a hard, ugly edge. “See, that’s the thing. I shouldn’t. But I’m going to. I just hope it doesn’t get me killed.”
I narrow my eyes. “Eight years of kendo,” I toss back the reminder that he tossed at me earlier. “I won’t let you get killed.” I think we’re both startled by my vehemence.
“You ought to just take my advice and watch your own ass.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” For a second, I think I’ve done it, that I’ve had the last word.
“You do that,” he says, and grins. White teeth and that killer dimple carved in his cheek. He’s not afraid to go in there, to face the Drau, and that makes me a tiny bit less afraid.
As he walks around me, back toward the door, I catch Richelle watching me with a frown.
Everyone gets back in formation, Richelle reaching for the door while the others cover her. She pushes it open. The feeling of wrongness oozes out from the dark interior, weaving through my cells. Everything inside me screams for me to run. But I force myself to step forward. This is just a game of some sort. Richelle and Luka said we get to go back when we’re done. And if their word isn’t enough, I’ve already seen it in action: I got hit by a truck and survived that. Whatever happens in here can’t be any worse.
CHAPTER FIVE