CHAPTER Seven
CAS IS THE ONLY ONE SMILING AT DINNER. WELL, besides James, who is chewing on store-bought beef jerky like it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. He showered and shaved before coming downstairs, and unlike the last time, James is perfectly content with gloating. I may have misjudged his maturity level.
James keeps his hand on my leg, casually, but still there. We sit close, and every so often he brushes his lips over my ear to whisper how much he missed me. I’d tell him to stop pouring salt in the wound, but I don’t. Because tomorrow we’re running away, just like we should have in the first place. I plan to ask Dallas to come with us, but I doubt she’ll leave Cas. I’m going to give her the option anyway.
“So where’ve you been?” Cas asks, reaching to pull some jerky out of the bag on the table. Night has fallen outside, blacking out the windows and dotting the sky with stars. I plan to sit and stare up at them later, enjoy one last night in Tahoe before we leave for the unknown.
“I tried to head back to Oregon,” James says. “Got spooked when I saw the billboard with my handsome mug on it.” He winks at me to let me know he’s joking.
Dallas chuckles. “That must be distracting for drivers.”
“It was,” James retorts. “Tourists lining the road, taking pictures. Traffic jams. I knew I’d be a target. Ended up camping for a day or two before I found your trail. It was pretty lonely. I found my spirit animal though.” He grins. “It’s a rooster.”
“Shut up.” I laugh, pushing his shoulder. James continues to tell ridiculous stories, leaving out everything relating to his dad. He’s keeping it private, which I respect. Dallas seems brightened by James’s return, and I don’t feel threatened by her attention. Not like before.
Realm broods at the end of the table, and occasionally Dallas looks over at him, although she’s clearly still too pissed to engage him in conversation. I hate knowing about pieces of her life that she doesn’t. Can she feel deep down inside that she used to love Realm? Am I cruel for not telling her now?
As if reading my thoughts, Realm pushes his drink aside and stares at Dallas until she looks at him. “Can I talk to you?” he asks.
She scoffs. “No.” She turns back to James, but Realm is quick to reach out and take her hand, startling her.
“I need to talk to you,” he says again, more aggressively. At the other end of the table, Cas glares at Realm.
“Leave it alone, man,” Cas says seriously. “Leave her alone.” They exchange a look, one heavy in meaning, but Realm doesn’t back down.
“I can’t,” he says, his lips pulled tight into a snarl. “And this isn’t your call, Casanova. Not her; not The Treatment. Do you think I haven’t noticed you searching for the pill?” Cas stands, knocking a cup off the table and sending it to the floor with a loud clatter. We all jump, surprised to see Cas react so strongly. It’s an Old West showdown, and James sits up straighter like he’s ready to break up a fight.
For her part, Dallas looks utterly confused. Cas’s reaction is over the top, especially since they’re just friends. And I don’t know what any of this has to do with The Treatment.
“Outside,” Cas growls to Realm. At first I think he’s calling for a fight, but Realm nods solemnly. Cas doesn’t say a word to Dallas before walking out, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.
Realm pauses, but Dallas won’t look at him. He rounds the table, touching my shoulder as he passes. James and Dallas don’t notice. I watch Realm leave, wondering what the hell is going on. Does he genuinely want to apologize to Dallas? Is he freaking out because James is back?
Dallas curses and gets up from the table. “He’s such a dick,” she says, rattled. She wouldn’t talk to Realm, but his attention was enough to break her otherwise good mood. Realm called her unstable, but obviously he’s partly to blame for that diagnosis. There’s real damage here that he has no right to tamper with. And to prove it, Dallas tosses her beef jerky on the table and storms upstairs.
James looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. “What was that about?” he asks. “Are Dallas and Cas—”
“They both say no,” I tell him. “Just friends. Either way, I’m ready to get out of here. They want The Treatment, not us.” At the mention, I realize we left the pill in the room. After that little exchange, I’m feeling paranoid. I want to check on it.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I say.
James doesn’t make a joke because he can see I’m suspicious. Together we go back to the room and I immediately check the small inside pocket of the duffel bag. The pill is still there, tucked inside the Baggie with Kellan Thomas’s business card so I won’t lose them.
“What’s going on?” James asks, shutting the door before going to sit on the bed. “Have the rebels been trying to get ahold of The Treatment?”
I shake my head, trying to figure out what’s making me so uneasy. “Not really, or at least, not obviously. They want to keep it safe from The Program. I assumed Arthur Pritchard was the threat, but I may have misjudged him. Now it’s up to us.” I think again about the doctor, hoping I’ll be able to reconnect with him eventually. If he understood the risks of The Treatment, maybe he’d have another idea on how to combat The Program. Maybe there can be a happy ending in all this.
“Can I see it for second?” James asks. I lift my gaze to where he sits, and nod. I take the Baggie and crawl onto the bed.
James lies next to me, and I hand him the items, resting my cheek on his shoulder. He reads the business card through the plastic and then begins tracing the pill with his thumb.
“A cure dangerous enough to kill us,” he says. “What a cruel twist.”
I close my eyes, thinking back on what Dallas said. She would have made James take The Treatment. Realm would have made me. They both thought it would be worth the risk, and now that James has lost everything . . . I wonder if they’re right.
“I understand if you want to take the pill,” I tell him. “I know you’re strong enough to fight off the depression if you want the memories. Especially now that your dad is gone.” James turns to press a kiss on my forehead. “I have all I need right here,” he murmurs. “And if there’s a chance a doctor, or anyone, can figure out how to use this pill to save others in the future, we should hold on to it.” He smiles. “How the hell did we become responsible for the fate of the entire world?” I laugh. “I have no idea.”
James slides the Baggie into the leg pocket of his cargo shorts and then turns to wrap his arms around me. He pets my hair and I reach to stroke my fingers over the scars on his bicep—the names The Program took away.
“We’ll keep the pill safe from The Program,” he whispers.
“In the morning we’ll go far away until all this has blown over.
We’ll even get a puppy.”
“Two,” I say, although I know we’re just playing house again. I don’t mind. When your entire life has morphed into a low-budget action movie, you fantasize about a boring subur-ban existence. How easy it would all be.
There’s a sharp pain in my temple, and I wince and touch the spot. I’m reminded of what happened last time a memory cracked through. But just as quickly as the pain hits, it disappears. So I don’t mention it. I just snuggle next to James and drift off to sleep.
There’s a whisper of wind through the trees, rustling the leaves above us. James stands behind me in the grass, brushing his fingers through my hair as he works out the knots.
“I feel like I’m dating Medusa,” he says. “Do you have snakes hidden in here?” He brushes my hair over my shoulder and the black curls cascade down before he leans to kiss my skin.
“If I did, they’d surely have bitten you by now.” James bites playfully at my shoulder, and I spin and push him back, laughing. He leans down to pick up a pile of leaves from the ground, eying me in a way that leads me to believe they’re going to end up down my shirt.
“We have to get to class,” I warn, taking a step back from him.
“Miller will be lost without us, so no ditching.” James doesn’t answer, only grins stupidly as he moves closer.
“James,” I warn again, although my voice is twinged with laughter. “I will knee you so hard. Don’t make me do that.”
“You won’t,” he says, taking another step.
And just as I scream and turn to run, I feel him tackle me from behind and I fall onto the grass, leaves crunching underneath me as he proceeds to shove a handful of dirty foliage down my shirt, laughing like a maniac. But true to my word, I bring my knee up. It isn’t until he howls, rolling off of me, that I regret what I’ve done. I curse and immediately move beside him as he cups his package, his teeth barred.
“Goddamn it, Sloane,” he chokes out. “I think you just neu-tered me.”
“I’m so sorry.” I lean down and put my face near his neck, trying to hug him although he’s still moaning in pain. I feel awful, even if he totally started it.
“You just killed all our future children,” he mumbles, although his hands have gravitated to my arms as he keeps me in an embrace.
I breathe against his neck, kissing him there once and whispering another apology.
“I didn’t want kids anyway,” I add. “I wouldn’t want them to grow up in a world like this.”
James is quiet for a moment, and the mood changes. The tragedy of life sinking in. “But what if I want them?” I sit up and stare down at him. “You’re joking, right?” I ask.
When I see in his expression that he’s serious, that he’s completely serious, I can’t talk fast enough. “James,” I say, “having children when they’re growing up to kill themselves is stupid. Really stupid and irresponsible. Second of all—having kids is hard. Like . . .
what? I’m so confused right now.”
James shakes his head. “I’m not saying I want to plant my seed tonight or anything—”
“Gross!” I slap his arm and he laughs softly. “Please don’t talk about seeds of anything. I think I’m going to barf.”
“I’m just saying,” James continues, taking my hand to pull me closer. “That a little me would be kind of adorable and you should consider it. Like, fifteen years from now.”
“No.”
“Blond hair, blue eyes, a thirst for trouble. What could go wrong?”
“So many things.” I let James take me in his arms. It’s true that anything half-James would be cute and obnoxious, but that’s not enough. My heart sinks as I consider the future—the amount of people who’ll die. And how I never want to experience the loss my parents have. James must sense the despair settling in, so he hugs me tighter and kisses the top of my head.
“Don’t worry about it now,” he murmurs. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen years.”
I awake with a start, the memory still as clear as if it just happened. There’s no residual pain, and for a second I wonder if it was just a dream. But in my heart I know it really happened, can feel in my soul. James is next to me in bed and I shake his shoulder.
“Sleeping,” he mumbles, folding the pillow over his head.
“James.” I put my palm on his cheek, and he blinks his eyes open. “I had another memory. We were playing in the grass and you were talking about having children.”
He pauses, and then gets up on his elbow. “I’m sorry, what?”
I laugh. “You said you wanted kids and you were so sweet.
I had a memory, and right now I’m not even dizzy. I don’t know, yesterday was a pretty stressful day, so it must have spurred something on. But maybe returning memories aren’t always bad. James,” I say, ecstatic and relieved, “we were so in love.”
James smiles then, pulling me closer. I’m about to kiss him, ready to refresh his memory too, when there’s a loud commotion from downstairs. I hear Dallas scream—actually scream, and both James and I bolt upright in bed.
We’re still in our clothes from last night, and James pulls me from the room so quickly, I’m afraid I’m going to trip over my own feet. He staggers to a stop in the hallway when we hear voices downstairs. The true devastation hits me—The Program is here. They’ve found us.
James spins to face me, his eyes wide and terrified. “Back door,” he whispers, and then yanks me toward the small doorway and spiral staircase that leads to the kitchen. We’re halfway down when we hear the footsteps over our heads. James curses, and then we’re moving faster, clumsier. I bang my elbow on the door frame as we bust into the kitchen. Behind us there’s a trample of footsteps on the staircase.
James crashes through the screen door, and the morning light is bright, the air is crisp. I’m gasping in puffs of air as we escape the house, heading for the woods as our cover; it’s our only chance. I’m still barefoot when my toes sink into the dewy grass and soon we reach the bridge—a bridge where I stood just this week, thinking how beautiful the world could still be.
I was wrong.
“Stop!”
I glance over my shoulder and see a handler, dressed in the signature white coat, chasing us. “James!” I shout to spur him on, fear cracking my voice. James’s hand is clasped tightly around mine even though he could be long gone by now if I wasn’t holding him back. The second we’re over the bridge, James darts to the left. We disappear into the woods, and he lets my hand go to protect his face from the branches threatening to scratch out our eyes.
We’re hopping over fallen tree limbs. Branches dig into my forearms and one opens a gash on my cheek. We have to keep running.
We have to get away.
The noise behind us quiets, but then up ahead there’s a flash of movement, making James and I stumble to a stop. I turn around, looking in every direction, terrified that we’ve been surrounded. But then I see the blond hair, and I moan my relief.
“It’s Dallas,” I say, and now I’m the one leading. Dallas notices us and waves us forward, but she puts her finger to her lips. The woods are dense, and I have no idea which direction we’re even headed.
When we finally catch up with Dallas, she’s cut up, her shirt ripped and hanging off her shoulder. “Realm?” I ask out of breath. “Cas?”
“Cas ran ahead,” she says, pointing in one direction and then another as if she’s lost. “I have no idea where Realm is. He disappeared. Damn it,” she says when there are shouts behind us. “This way.” She motions to the right and then we’re running again.