Steelheart

Tia’s mobile beeped a soft rhythm; it had a medical package, and she had set it on Megan’s chest to detect her heartbeat. Tia occasionally picked it up to take quick ultrasounds of Megan’s abdomen. With the part of my brain that could still think, I was impressed by the Reckoners’ preparations. I hadn’t even known that Tia had medical training, let alone that we had blood and surgical equipment in storage.

She shouldn’t look that way, I thought, blinking out tears I hadn’t realized were forming. So vulnerable. Naked on the table. Megan is stronger than that. Shouldn’t they cover her a little with a sheet or something as they work?

I caught myself rising to fetch something to cover her, something to give a semblance of modesty, but then realized how stupid I was being. Each moment was crucial here, and I couldn’t go blundering in and distract Tia.

I sat down. I was covered in Megan’s blood. I couldn’t smell it anymore; I guess my nose had gotten used to it.

She has to be okay, I thought, dazed. I saved her. I brought her back. She has to be all right, now. That’s the way it works.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Abraham said softly. “The harmsway …”

“It doesn’t work on everyone,” Tia said. “I don’t know why. I wish I knew why, dammit. But it has never worked well on Megan, just like she always had trouble working the tensors.”

Stop talking about her weaknesses! I screamed at them in my head.

Megan’s heartbeat was getting even weaker. I could hear it, amplified by Tia’s phone—beep, beep, beep. Before I knew it, I was standing up. I turned toward Prof’s thinking room. Cody hadn’t returned to the hideout; he was still watching the captured Epic in a separate location, as he’d been ordered. But Prof was here, in the other room. He’d walked straight there after arriving, not once looking at Megan or me.

“David!” Tia said sharply. “What are you doing?”

“I … I …,” I stammered, trying to get out the words. “I’m going to get Prof. He’ll do something. He’ll save her. He knows what to do.”

“Jon can’t do anything here,” Tia said. “Sit back down.”

The sharp order cut through my dazed confusion. I sat and watched Megan’s closed eyes as Tia worked, swearing softly to herself. The curses almost matched the beat of Megan’s heart. Abraham stood to the side, looking helpless.

I watched her eyes. Watched her serene, calm face as the beeps slowed. Then stopped. There was no flatline sound from the mobile. Just silence that carried a weight of meaning. Nothingness laden with data.

“This …,” I said, blinking tears. “I mean, I carried her all the way here, Tia.…”

“I’m sorry,” Tia said. She raised a hand to her face, leaving a bloody mark on her forehead. Then she sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking exhausted.

“Do something,” I said. Not an order. A plea.

“I’ve done what I can,” Tia said. “She’s gone, David.”

Silence.

“Those wounds were bad,” Tia continued. “You did everything you could. It’s not your fault. To be honest, even if you’d been able to get her here immediately, I don’t know if she’d have made it.”

“I …” I couldn’t think.

Cloth rustled. I glanced to the side. Prof stood in the doorway to his room. He’d dusted off his clothing, and he looked clean and dignified, a sharp contrast to the rest of us. His eyes flickered to Megan. “She’s gone?” he asked. His voice had softened a little from before, though he still didn’t sound like I felt he should.

Tia nodded.

“Gather what you can,” Prof said, slinging a pack over his shoulder. “We’re abandoning this position. It’s been compromised.”

Tia and Abraham nodded, as if they’d been expecting this order. Abraham did pause to lay a hand on Megan’s shoulder and bow his head, and then he moved his hand to the pendant at his neck. He hurried off to gather his tools.

I took a blanket from Megan’s bedroll—it didn’t have sheets—and brought it back to lay over her. Prof looked at me, and he seemed about to object to the frivolous action, but he held his tongue. I tucked the blanket around Megan’s shoulders but left her head exposed. I don’t know why people cover the face after someone dies. The face is the only thing left that is still right. I brushed it with my fingers. The skin was still warm.

This isn’t happening, I thought numbly. The Reckoners don’t fail like this.

Unfortunately, facts—my own facts—flooded my mind. The Reckoners did fail; members of the Reckoners did die. I’d researched this. I’d studied this. It happened.

It just shouldn’t have happened to Megan.

I need to see her body cared for, I thought, bending down to pick her up.

“Leave the corpse,” Prof said.

I ignored him, then felt him gripping my shoulder. I looked up through bleary eyes and found his expression harsh, eyes wide and angry. They softened as I looked at him.

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