Unraveled (28 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

T
HE REFUGEE CAMPS ARE FULL OF THE
broken and the bruised, the angry and the grateful. Each camp is a press of bodies—living,
working, and healing together. Although there are no elected leaders, the strong step
forward to direct and guide until there is a working system. I stop at each camp,
checking the wounded; the bodies have been buried by volunteers. The bodies that made
it to Earth before Arras faded into space. The evacuation was dangerous, but the days
after were worse. Peace is still a fragile reality here.

But in the camps along the eastern coast of America, they tell me stories of the ones
who came to save them. They tell of the brothers with the same eyes, who fought the
Guild forces when they came.

No one has seen them.

Amie travels with me, choosing to leave Pryana behind at the first camp, and I’m grateful
for her company. Without transport, we walk, and the days become weeks until our new
reality no longer feels new. We’ve been on the surface a little over a month, and
Amie hasn’t questioned why I won’t stop looking.

I think she wants answers that I cannot give her—about what happened in Arras. But
those memories are too tangled with grief for me to separate them into words, so we
are mostly quiet as we travel. I am bound to a promise and haunted by hope. Alix said
Sebrina made it to the surface, and I have to find her for Jost. But I’m on the east
coast, about to give up, when news of an outlying camp on the northern end of the
seaboard reaches us. We speak to one of the self-appointed leaders, hoping he can
point us in the right direction.

“That outpost is a two-day walk,” he explains to us.

“Amie”—I turn to my sister—“you should stay here while I go to check it out.”

“No, I’ll come with you.” Despite leaving a life of luxury, Amie hasn’t complained
once about the conditions on Earth. Our weeks here have been full of harsh travel
as we walked in search near the coasts. I’ve spent so much time thinking of Amie as
a liability—as a victim—that I never saw how strong she has become in the absence
of our parents. We’ve both grown up too soon.

One of the men from the camp comes over to us and whispers in the leader’s ear. Their
conversation is low and strained, but when it ends, he turns to us. “I can offer you
two motocycles.”

“We can’t borrow them,” I say. “We’re heading west by week’s end. I can’t return them.”

“It’s a gift.”

He doesn’t look like he’s in a very giving mood—this is clearly the other man’s idea—and
I shake my head once more, even as Amie squeezes my arm. She wants me to accept. I
want to, too, but I also know how valuable a motocycle would be out here.

“It’s a generous offer,” I say, “but I can’t take them from you. You need them.”

“Miss Lewys, I don’t know how you did what you did,” the other man says. “And I know
there are a lot of rumors flying around about what happened in Arras between you and
Patton. Not everyone here likes you.”

So I’ve been recognized. I knew it would happen as the survivors’ shock dulled. I’d
been on every screen in Arras only weeks before its destruction.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m not one of those people, and I want to say thank you,” the man says. He keeps
his gaze level with mine; his eyes don’t blink, as though he’s challenging me to decline
his offer again.

“Thank you.” I don’t say anything else. I know what it’s like to feel like you have
nothing to offer someone in need. I know how hard it is to even say thank you.

The motocycles are slick, large beasts, recovered from Guild warehouses near the abandoned
mine sites. Chrome tubes twist along their bodies and even parked they look nearly
as large as motocarriages. The man gives Amie and me a tutorial on how to ride them.
I don’t tell him that I’ve ridden one before or that I’m terrified of it now. Both
because I don’t want to look ungrateful and to set a good example for my sister. More
than anything she needs to see that I’m strong and capable in this world. The engine
hums to life between my legs, the vibration traveling up through my fingers and dying
on their damaged tips, and I grip the handles tightly and kick off from the dirt.
We roar forward to our last hope.

With the motocycles the journey to the outpost takes only a few hours. We have a compass
to guide us, but it doesn’t take us long to see signs of life. Now that the population
of Earth has grown exponentially, travel between the new outposts is more common.
And with the number of refugees and wounded on Earth, more and more people are reaching
out to the fledgling communities that surround them. We pass two young men walking
down the road toward the camp we came from. They wave hello and I slow to speak to
them.

“We heard there’s a camp full of the wounded ahead.”

“We have a few, miss. They were at the battle of Allia.”

My heart beats hard, and I’m sure it can be heard over the roar of the engine. The
Eastern capital. That was where Cormac unleashed his forces. I know Erik and Jost
were there.

“Can we give you a ride?” Amie asks.

“No, miss.” The boy smiles widely at her, and I realize, with more than a little apprehension,
that he thinks she’s pretty.

It’s still hard to fathom that my baby sister is nearly as old as I am now. Or that
she’s grown into a young woman. It had been only months for me that we were separated,
but it’s been years for her. She grew up while I wasn’t looking.

“We should go, Amie.”

She shoots me an annoyed, if amused, look. Maybe I do know how to protect her.

The camp isn’t far ahead and we park the bikes outside the tents.

“You know, there aren’t purity standards here,” Amie tells me, poking me in the arm.
“I can talk to boys.”

“It’s not the
talking
to boys I’m worried about,” I say dryly.

“I’m not the one stalking across half the world looking for a boy.” Amie claps a hand
over her mouth. I know she wishes she could take it back, but I roll my eyes, unwilling
to betray the stab of pain in my chest. Her accusation hurts because it’s true.

We don’t talk about Erik. She hasn’t asked me about him since we’ve been on Earth,
but love is one emotion that leaves its marks on you. Even my kid sister can see them.

“That’s why I’m worried about you,” I say. “Trust me, this isn’t something I want
for you.”

Amie stops me and studies my face for a moment. “You love him?”

No matter how I frame these trips as being about finding Sebrina, I hope to find him,
too. And she can see that, so I nod.

“Why wouldn’t you want that for me?” she asks. “We were lucky to grow up with parents
who loved each other, Ad. It’s okay to be in love.”

I can only give her a tiny smile. I don’t tell her that this is killing me. Not knowing.
Pretending to be strong when I need to crumble. That this is what love is: vulnerability.

“About purity standards,” Amie says, changing the subject.

“Yes?”

“Any chance you still meet them?”

“You saw Erik,” I say, grinning despite myself. “What do you think?”

“Forget I asked.”

Zigzagging through the tents, we stop to speak to survivors, looking for directions
and tips like we’ve done in every camp thus far. At the base of one tent, a woman
eyes us warily as we approach.

“Hello,” I say, trying to sound friendly. “We’re looking for some survivors from Allia.
We think they might be here. Two—”

“Don’t know anything about two brothers,” she says.

I look at Amie. I hadn’t said anything about brothers. I push down my mounting suspicion,
but I can’t bring myself to say anything. Or I’ll want to accuse the woman of lying.

“Are you sure?” Amie asks. Her tone is naturally kinder than mine.

“Nope.”

“Thanks anyway,” I say, grabbing Amie’s arm and dragging her off. I know the woman
is watching us.

“What was that about?” Amie ponders out loud.

“They have to be here,” I say through gritted teeth. My eyes dart between the tents
and before I can stop myself I start lifting the flaps and looking inside them. More
than a few people yell at me, but I wave an apologetic hand and continue looking.

“Why would she lie to us?”

“I don’t know.”

When I lift the next flap, I’m staring at Alix.

She’s chopped her long blond hair into a bob and she’s dressed in jeans and an old
flannel shirt. No one would think this woman is a threat, but I don’t know what to
think of her at all. I know she’s capable of force, and of deception. That’s why I’m
not surprised to see her here. I’ve thought Alix was hiding something since she showed
up in Cormac’s offices. Why else would she take off as soon as we reached the surface?

“Adelice,” she says, but the shock in her voice is manufactured. She knew I would
come.

“What are you hiding?” I demand, ducking into her tent.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” She stands to greet me, but I don’t take her extended
hand. She turns and offers it to Amie, who accepts it with an uncomfortable glance
in my direction.

“Is he here?” I ask her. I know she had a history with Erik, but would she keep me
from him after what’s happened?

Alix turns away from me and rakes a hand through her loose hair. When she speaks,
her voice is low and distant. “Erik is dead.”

I die in that moment. Amie’s arm wraps around my waist, but I push her away. I squeeze
my eyes shut and try to erase the words from my head.

“You’re lying,” I accuse.

Alix rounds on me and there are tears in her eyes. “I wish I was lying.”

And then I know it’s true, because I can see her heart is broken. I hear it in her
voice. I see it in the absence behind her eyes. I feel it in the hollow of my stomach.

“What happened?” Amie asks because I can’t.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t there,” she says, reaching down to retrieve a bag from the
ground. “Come on.”

We follow her out of the tent. Each step is automatic. I follow her because I should.
I don’t care where we’re going.

“How can you know he’s dead?” Amie asks her. “If you weren’t there.”

A spark of hope flares in my chest. Why hadn’t I thought to ask that?

“I saw his body.”

The tiny flicker dies.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“I buried it.”

I don’t ask her where. It doesn’t matter. Erik isn’t there anymore. I try to remember
what Loricel told me about people who die naturally. A piece of them fades back into
the universe. Had I watched him fade away with Arras as I stood on the surface of
Earth? No, Alix said she buried him, so he must have made it here.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing Alix’s wrist and twisting it. “You told me you didn’t know
where he was. The night of Protocol Three.”

“I didn’t know where he was then.”

“But when you found out, you didn’t send for me?” I accuse.

“This isn’t Arras,” Alix reminds me. “I can’t shoot you a telebound. He’s dead, Adelice.
I can’t change that.”

She can’t change it, and it’s not her fault. But I need to be angry with someone,
because the pain is building like an inferno desperate for oxygen. I want it to consume
me and destroy me.

“Where are we going?” Amie asks, trying to change the subject.

Alix stops in front of a large canopy made of a variety of canvases patched together.
She gestures for us to enter. Inside lie rows of makeshift cots full of the wounded
and the recovering, and Alix marches down one. A few volunteers stop her to ask questions.
Obviously Alix has stepped up to a leadership position in this camp.

“You were Agenda the whole time,” I say finally.

“No, I was turned,” she says.

“By whom?” I ask.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

I want her to say it. Was it Erik who convinced her to betray Cormac?
How
had he convinced her? What promises passed between them? There were more layers to
discover about him. Now I can only uncover those secrets through her.

“Adelice.” Alix turns and stares at me. “I understand you have questions, but there’s
only one thing you need to know. Erik loved you.”

“I know that.” It’s the only thing that feels real.

“Nothing else matters, then.”

In the void left by his death this seems impossible to comprehend. Of course other
things mattered. Because without answers there was only the aching absence of him.
If answers could fill the void, I would keep searching for them.

But even as I thought it, I knew that they never would.

“Nothing I can say will bring him back to you, and there are other things to consider.”

“Like what?” I bark. Alix has had weeks to deal with this loss. But it’s a naked wound
for me and I don’t need her to lecture me on how to handle it. Maybe she can forget,
but I can’t. I’ve been asked to forget too many people already.

“Like him.” Alix points to the cot she’s stopped beside. I turn angrily to the bed
and the sight sucks the breath from me.

He’s badly injured, a thick wind of gauze around his head, dried blood coating the
outside. I drop to Jost’s side and push the hair from his face, revealing the telltale
marks of battle already scarring along his jaw. He’s healing quickly, but the damage
is extensive.

“Jost?” My voice is barely a whisper over the pounding of my heart.

“You didn’t lose everyone,” Alix reminds me.

I am not alone to tell the story. This thought crowds into the empty space inside
me, threatening to spill over into joy.

“Will he live?” I ask Alix, and as if to answer my question, Jost’s hand jerks forward
and grabs mine.

“Jost?” This time I’m calling to him, asking him to hear me.

There’s a flutter of lashes and he opens his mouth, but no words come out, only a
groan.

“He’s in bad shape,” Alix says, “but he’s a fighter and he has a good reason to live.”

“Sebrina,” I guess.

“She’s here. You missed her by about five minutes.”