Chapter 35
When I was twelve I went to an all-day pool party. I forgot sunscreen. My skin was so sunburned, I couldn’t sleep that night. My skin feels just like that now. Burned to a crisp—all the way into my lungs. Every breath fills my chest with an inferno, feels like lifting the weight of the world, and I am too tired to lift any extra weight.
Cool hands touch my brow, fiddle with my wrist. A pair of green eyes peers into mine, eyes that remind me of summer. “You’re alive!”
Stringy blond hair trails over my face as a weight is hefted from me. Now I can fill my lungs. But breathing air feels like breathing fire, and I cough and gasp.
“Fo? Fiona, can you hear me?” Bowen asks. His words are muted, as if my fingers were pressed into my ears. He frames my face with his hands and stares into my eyes. “Can you hear me?” he asks, eyes frantic.
“I hear you,” I whisper, pushing my aching body to sitting, wondering how I’m still alive. Four blood-streaked bodies are in the red-splattered pool, yet I am the one who will walk away. If I can find somewhere to go. If I can walk.
Beside me lies a still form. His skin shimmers iridescent red, every blood-covered inch coated with diamonds—glass from the ceiling. Only Jonah’s pale stringy hair gives away his identity. A tear streams down my cheek as I place a trembling hand on his bare chest. His heart beats against my palm, a weak, fast flutter.
“He’s still alive,” I say, looking at Bowen.
Bowen yanks the handgun from his belt and with trembling hands, points it at my brother’s chest. Shocked, I lean over Jonah’s body. “Don’t shoot him! He saved my life!” I say, surprised at the energy in my voice.
Bowen doesn’t waver. “Fo, he is a Level Ten. I watched him kill the other beast. There’s nothing human left in him!”
I shake my head and cringe at the pain. “He saved my life,” I whisper. “A part of my brother is still in there.”
“Would you look at that,” a voice says. The voice. The commentator. He’s standing on the side of the pool, looking down in. “The female Ten is protecting the body of the male Ten! And I thought beasts didn’t have feelings!”
Bowen glares and stands, his jaw muscles pulsing. He walks to the side of the pool and holds his hand up to the commentator. The commentator, round belly nearly popping the buttons off his white shirt, reaches down and clasps Bowen’s hand, ready to hoist him up. But Bowen yanks. The man topples over the side of the pool and lands on his back at Bowen’s feet. He blinks, stunned, and the crowd—those who have braved the grenade to see what is going to happen next—gasps.
Bowen balls his fist and hits the man in the face. The commentator’s eyes roll back in his fleshy head, and his pudgy cheeks sag.
Placing his fingers on the commentator’s ample cheeks, Bowen pries open the man’s mouth and sticks his finger inside, removing a tooth-sized metal chip. He sticks it into his own mouth and glares up at the remaining people.
“Listen to me.” Bowen’s voice drones impossibly loud, vibrating my bones, just like the commentator’s. “My name is Dreyden Bowen. This is Fiona Tarsis.” He points at me without looking. “She’s a Level Ten. And she’s not a beast! She’s been cured!” The crowd goes utterly still, staring down at Bowen with wide eyes. “Now take a good look at the boy beside her. That’s Jonah Tarsis. Her brother! You all came here today to watch our only hope for survival, our first real hope for the future, be torn apart by her own brother! You disgust me!”
The crowd inches toward the pool, all eyes on Jonah and me. The low drone of whispers fills the room. Women blink back tears, hang their heads in shame, and leave. Some of the men shout apologies. Others shake their heads and follow the women out.
Bowen crouches beside me. “The militia should be here any minute, and doctors are on their way,” he says. He frowns and breaks eye contact, studies his hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how else to save you.” He looks as if he’s about to be sick.
“What do you mean?” I whisper. The thought of medical help is a comfort to my throbbing body.
Without looking at me he says, “When they took you in the tunnels, I knew you were going to go to the pits. Tommy and I got back to south gate as fast as we could, but when we told them you were cured and needed to be rescued, they didn’t believe us—locked Tommy and me up as traitors. But when Micklemoore came back to the camp—he had been out searching for you—and found out that I had info about your location, he set us free and had us contact the lab with your whereabouts. Then Mickelmoore convinced the director of the lab to issue an order to open the gates for reinforcements, so the militia could help rescue you. So Tommy led the militia through the gate, and I came here through the tunnels.” Finally, he meets my eyes. “Fo. The only way I could get them to agree to help was by telling the lab your location. I couldn’t let you die in the pits. At least in the lab, you won’t feel anything when you die. They’re coming to take you.” His cheeks are pale and sunken, and blue shadows darken the skin under his eyes. A definite improvement from the last time I saw him, but still far from the glowing picture of health he used to be.
I reach a trembling hand to his face and trail my fingers over his bristly cheek. “How are you?” I ask. Hope that he will live a long, prosperous life burns in my chest. I don’t care if I have to go to the lab, as long as he survives.
He leans into my hand, and a hint of a smile touches his blue-tinged lips. “I tell you you’re going to the lab and you want to know how I am?” He tilts his head and kisses me so softly and so gently I could lean into his lips and fall asleep forever, but he pulls away and looks into my eyes. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
A door on the side of the pool opens. Bowen stands and grabs his gun, aiming it at a lone man wearing a long white jacket. The man puts up his hands and steps into the pool.
“Looks like the lab has arrived,” Bowen mutters, lowering his gun. His lips harden into a thin, straight line.
I look at the man in the white coat and my eyes narrow. He steps over Arris’s lifeless body and walks toward me. Dark brows frame pale blue eyes. My heart starts pounding and a memory floods my vision.