CHAPTER SIX
Ariel tapped her fingers on the stock of her rifle, watching Nandita as the women in the house readied themselves to leave. It would be so easy to kill her—half a second to aim, another to pull the trigger. Boom. Dead. So easy to rid the world of its most heartless, deceitful, irredeemable denizen. Nandita Merchant had created the Partials, she had created RM, she had kidnapped Ariel and three other girls and experimented on them for years, right under everyone’s noses, lying to them about their true nature. Ariel was a Partial. Her adoptive sisters—Kira and Isolde—were Partials. The enemy.
In Ariel’s mind it felt as if Nandita had changed her with a sentence, like a magic spell, stealing her humanity to leave her gasping in the darkness. She had made her a monster, with the blood of the world still dripping from her talons. She didn’t know what to think, or even how. It was too much to take in. The world had shifted, and it would never be the same.
Only one thing remained after the announcement: She had hated Nandita before, and she hated her now. She touched the trigger, just lightly, not even pointing the rifle in Nandita’s direction. The curve of it gave her a dark, illicit thrill. It would be so easy.
Isolde walked into the room, a stuffed backpack in each hand and Mohammad Khan, her red-faced, screaming baby, in a tight sling across her chest. Ariel moved her hand back to the stock.
“I have blankets, clothes, and everything in the house that can be used as a cloth diaper,” said Isolde. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice was raw from emotion and fatigue. “I think that’s everything, but I don’t know. I’m convinced I’m forgetting something.”
“You’re fine,” said Nandita, stroking Khan’s cheek ineffectually. He was five days old—an outright miracle in the world after the Break, when most children died in three—but his apparent immunity to RM wasn’t saving him from the other disease he’d had since birth, a mysterious illness that spiked his fever and ruptured his skin with boils and rough, leathery patches. Nandita thought she could save him, that Khan’s human/Partial hybrid DNA would make him more resilient. But Ariel knew the truth. Being a hybrid hadn’t saved her baby two years ago, and it wouldn’t save Isolde’s now.
Isolde set her backpacks on the couch, next to Xochi’s and that of Xochi’s adoptive mother, Senator Erin Kessler. Madison’s bag was on the floor, packed mostly with supplies for Arwen, her baby, and the only healthy human child since the Break.
Isolde froze in terror when a sudden knock sounded sharply on the front door. Every woman in the house looked up with wide, wild eyes, for a knock on the door meant only one thing.
Partial soldiers.
Ariel took stock of the room in a single, practiced glance—almost everything in the house was liable to get them arrested, starting with Arwen. The Partials had heard rumors of a thriving human child, nearly one year old, and they wanted her for their experiments. Khan would probably mean nothing to the average observer—his condition made him appear as just another doomed baby—but the guns were contraband and the loaded backpacks were a clear sign that they were about to make a run for it. Nobody was allowed to leave East Meadow, and if the Partials thought they were trying, they’d arrest them all just to be sure.
Ariel stashed her gun behind a bookcase, still in easy reach if she needed it, and caught the bags Xochi threw to her. Nandita, who the Partials had been searching for almost as eagerly as Kira, hid herself in a back room, while Senator Kessler did the same—she wasn’t necessarily a criminal, but if the Partials recognized her as a senator, they might take her anyway. Isolde struggled to calm her screaming baby, and far in the back, beneath a false panel in the floor, Madison quietly shushed Arwen. Ariel hid the last of the bags in a kitchen cupboard; barely ten seconds had elapsed since the knock on the door. The soldier outside pounded loudly again, and Ariel opened it.
“What do you want?” Her voice was more surly than she’d intended; she was trying to act innocent and unnoticeable. When the Partials didn’t react to her anger, she realized that maybe anger was the most innocent reaction of all in an occupied city. She allowed herself a fierce scowl, surprised at how good it felt.
The pair of Partial soldiers on the porch were both young—about eighteen years old in appearance, as they all were, though she knew they were closer to twenty. She wondered if she’d seen these two around the city anywhere, maybe guarding a street corner when she’d been out scavenging for food, but they all looked so similar she couldn’t tell. The Partials weren’t clones of one another, but they may as well have been. Ariel found them completely indistinguishable. It made her wonder if the Partials thought the same thing about humans.
Which only made her grimace, nauseated anew by the realization that “us” and “them” meant completely different things than they had three days ago.
“Miss,” said the first Partial, “we heard a baby crying on the premises. We’ve come to see if there’s anything wrong.”
You mean you’ve come to see if it’s Arwen, thought Ariel. She glanced at Isolde, who flashed a look of impotent fury before gritting her teeth and giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. They had prearranged a plan to use Khan to hide Arwen, and while Isolde had agreed with it, she hated it intensely.
“Yes,” said Ariel, pointing toward the swaddled infant. “Can you help? We’ve done everything we can, but he’s dying.” The Partials glanced at Isolde and her baby, and Ariel stepped closer. “It’s RM, and it’s killing him.” She felt more anger boiling to the surface and unleashed it like a flamethrower. “Don’t you have any medicine? They told us the Partials had the cure—can you help him? Or are you just here to watch him die?”
The first Partial stepped inside and walked to Isolde, examining Khan up close. Isolde took up the act as well, though she was less angry and more pleading. Ariel studied the second Partial, still in the doorway, covering his partner like a good wingman; his rifle wasn’t aimed, but it was ready to bring up at a moment’s notice, and they all knew from experience just how fast a Partial could be.
It occurred to Ariel, not for the first time, that she could give them Nandita. The old woman was concealed in a closet, trapped like a rat if Ariel decided to lead them to her. What would they do if they found her—torture her? Kill her outright? Nothing good, she knew, or Nandita wouldn’t be so intent on staying hidden. Ariel wanted to speak up so desperately she had to clench her fist to keep from blurting it out, but there were two reasons she forced herself to keep quiet: first, because the inevitable questions that followed might possibly expose Arwen, or even Khan’s unique parentage. Second, and more frustrating, was Nandita’s mysterious power over the Partials—she seemed to be able to control them, and exposing her to these two soldiers would do nothing but give her a new pair of pawns.
The control, she knew, came through something called the link—Kira had discovered that the Partials used a system of chemical communication, like pheromones in an ant colony, breathing one another’s thoughts and feeling one another’s emotions. Ariel, however, could never sense any of it. She breathed deeply, trying not to be obvious about it. Nothing. It made her wonder if Nandita was simply lying to them—if they weren’t some alternate Partial model, but human after all. She’d lied about everything else, why not that?
“Hi,” said the Partial in the doorway. “I’m Eric. That’s Chas.”
Ariel stared back, furious at the soldier’s attempt at conversation. How dare he treat them like friends—like equals—in the middle of an enemy occupation? In the middle of an armed home invasion? She wished she could use the link just so she could blast him with the full force of her rage.
Caught by a sudden impulse, before she knew it she was blowing out a long, slow breath, right toward his face. Any harder and he’d feel the wind of it. Her heart seemed to stop as she waited, watching his eyes for any reaction, but she saw nothing—no sudden alarm, no glimmer of recognition. If she had the link at all, he was as deaf to hers as she was to his. She didn’t know if she should feel triumphant or disappointed, and the confusion only made her feel sicker. She scowled, and gripped the door frame for support. The Partial in the doorway shot her a quick glance, saw nothing important, and continued with his scan of the living room.
The Partial named Chas inspected Khan, presumably trying to determine for himself whether this fevered newborn was the fabled Miracle Baby. The women’s plan, posed by Xochi, was to present Khan to any Partial scouts in the hope that they wouldn’t bother looking for a second baby. The only problem would come if one of their neighbors—perhaps someone starving, or hoping to free a loved one from the Partials’ prison—had sold them out. All the humans knew about Arwen, and where she was hiding, but none of them would dare to betray the Miracle Baby. She hoped. Ariel held her breath, trying not to look as scared as she felt, waiting for the Partials to leave.
“What are these blisters?”
Ariel felt her chest grow tighter; she was still facing the doorway, but she could hear the sharp intake of breath as Xochi or Isolde, maybe both of them, reacted in sudden fear to the question. Had the Partials noticed their fear? Did they suspect the girls were hiding something? She wanted to spin around, to see what was happening in the room, but forced herself to stay calm. She studied Eric in the doorway, looking for a sign of alarm in his face, but saw nothing. That might not mean anything, she told herself. The link makes them express emotions differently from us. He could be on the verge of killing us, and we’d never know.
The silence dragged on, the soldier’s question hanging in the air unanswered, and Ariel realized that Isolde was too shocked to speak. Maybe the Partials would miss a sudden intake of breath, but a failure to answer a direct question was bound to arouse suspicion.
Ariel turned around slowly. “He’s sick. I told you already.”
Chas adjusted his rifle and leaned in closely over Khan; the baby whimpered slightly, too exhausted from its constant pain to keep screaming. Chas reached toward one of the dark-yellow blisters. “This doesn’t look like RM.”
“RM’s not the only disease a baby can get out here away from a hospital,” said Ariel, her anger laced with fear. Why won’t they just go away? She swallowed nervously.
Isolde turned and stepped back, shielding the baby from the soldier’s hand. “Don’t touch him,” she snapped. “The blisters are painful.”
Eric raised his rifle—not all the way, but just enough to signal that it was still there, and that the Partials still had all the power. Ariel felt things spiraling out of control, the situation turning dark and desperate and ready to snap. She raised her hand to reach out, but she didn’t know where or to whom. Chas reached for Khan again, more aggressively this time, and saw Isolde raise her hand.
“Isolde!” Ariel tried to force her voice to be bright and chipper. The blond girl looked up, her hand frozen halfway through what might have been intended as a slap or worse. “Can I get you a drink of water?”
Isolde glared at her, her pale face practically red with rage, but she allowed the soldier to touch Khan’s face, probing carefully at the rough patches of hardened skin. Isolde seemed to swallow a scream and nodded to Ariel as mechanically as she could. “Thank you.”
Ariel walked toward the kitchen, but Chas barked a sudden order.
“Stop.”
Ariel froze. She could just see Xochi from the corner of her eye, edging toward the curio cabinet where she’d hidden her handgun.
“No one’s allowed to leave the room,” Chas continued, his voice grim and serious. “You all stay exactly where you are, where we can see you.”
Ariel looked the other way, still frozen in place, and counted the steps to her own rifle’s hiding place. Three steps, and cover when I get there.
It still won’t be enough.
If they started a fight, Senator Kessler would be here in seconds, surprising the Partials and, if they were lucky, taking one out of the fight. If the fight went long enough, Nandita would expose herself as well, using her power over the Partials to stop it—she didn’t like to use her control out of fear that it would attract too much attention from the rest of the Partial army, bringing out forces they couldn’t hope to deal with, but for a situation like this she might step in. But Xochi or Isolde or both might already be dead by the time Nandita came out, and maybe even Ariel herself.
At last Chas turned away.
“Let’s go.”
He walked to the door, and that was it—no warnings, no parting words, no acknowledgment of Khan’s illness or Isolde’s desperate cries for help. They were looking for Arwen, and this wasn’t Arwen, so they left. Isolde clutched her baby close to her chest, and Xochi closed the door the soldiers had left hanging open.
Ariel grabbed her rifle, checked the barrel, and tried to slow her breathing.
“We’ve got to get out of town tonight,” said Kessler, stepping into the room with her own rifle gripped tightly in her hands. “That was too close.”
“I think we handled it pretty damn well,” Xochi snapped.
Kessler growled, rolling her eyes. “I never said you didn’t.”
“Be quiet or you’ll make him start crying again,” said Isolde, and hurried out of the room. Ariel slowly peeled her fingers off the rifle, though she still couldn’t take her eyes off the locked door, or the windows they’d so carefully blocked to keep from being spied on. Xochi and Kessler pulled the bags out of the cupboards in the kitchen, running last-minute checks to make sure everything was ready. Ariel set her rifle on the table beside her but couldn’t bring herself to take her hand off it.
“You may have saved their lives, Ariel,” said Nandita, so close behind her that she almost jumped when she heard the old woman’s voice. She shot her a dark glance over her shoulder, then walked into the kitchen to help with the bags.
“The other girls froze,” Nandita continued. “You didn’t. I thank you for that.”
Kessler glared at Xochi, but neither of them spoke.
“You still haven’t told us where we’re going,” said Ariel.
“Does it matter?” asked Madison, walking in with Arwen on her hip. “We need to get out, I don’t care where.”
“Where this group goes matters more than almost anything else in the world,” said Kessler. She had a soft Irish lilt in her voice; Xochi, her adopted daughter, was Mexican by birth, but had lived with Kessler so long that the same lilt crept into her voice when she was angry.
It was fully evident now. “You know that’s not what she meant, Erin.”
“Yes, we have to get the children away from the Partials—” said Madison, but fell abruptly silent almost before she could even finish speaking. Ariel felt everyone’s eyes on her but said nothing. “The Partial soldiers,” said Madison, correcting herself. “We had the perfect cover today, and it still almost fell apart.”
“I’m not suggesting we stay,” said Kessler. “I’m just agreeing with Ariel. We need to know where we’re going.”
“To the same lab where I spent most of the last year,” said Nandita.
“That doesn’t tell us anything,” said Ariel.
Nandita sighed. “And what if one of you is captured? They could torture you, and get the location, and cut the rest of us off before we even arrive.”
“What are you expecting this trip to be like?” asked Ariel. “Two infants, an old woman, and barely enough survival training to go around. We’re sticking together just to stay alive, and if they find one of us, they find us all.”
Nandita glared back at her, but after a moment of silence she spoke. “Before the Break there was a government laboratory on a tiny island off the eastern tip of this one, the Plum Island Disease Research Center. Being separated from the rest of the continent made it the only safe place to study the most contagious organisms, but it turns out that same isolation saved it when the rest of the world fell apart. It has its own power source, its own air and water recycling system, and a hermetically sealed interior—it hasn’t fallen apart the way everything else has. That’s where I made this.” She held up the hand-sized leather bag that hung around her neck, containing the small glass vial with a chemical trigger; the trigger that would release . . . something inside Ariel’s and Isolde’s bodies. Nandita had thought it was the cure for RM, but given everything unexpected that had happened with Khan, they could only wonder. “If there’s any facility in the world where I can study and cure Khan’s illness, it’s there.”
Ariel found herself instinctually assuming that Nandita must have other motives as well, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Isolde entered the room, and Khan, in a rare moment of surrender, was passed out from fatigue, asleep on her chest. Isolde looked just as exhausted.
Ariel looked back at Nandita, fixing her with her stare. “Can you actually save him?”
“I will stop at nothing.”
They stared at each other, sizing each other up. Ariel wondered what the old woman was thinking, what she was reading in Ariel’s face and attitude.
“If you can really help him,” said Ariel, “then I’ll stop at nothing to help you do it.”
And as soon as he’s safe, I’ll kill you.