Zhukov's Dogs (29 page)

I handed the pillowcase full of medical supplies to Anya. She opened it, and everyone leaned in closer to get a look. There was a simultaneous gasp when they saw what was inside.

“No way!” Tibbs exclaimed. He reached in to pull out one of the burn ointments, staring at it as if it were a fabled, unicorn-eating monster or something equally unheard of. “You know how much this stuff is worth?”

“Save it. Don’t sell it,” I insisted as other hands dove to scrounge through the bag. I doubted they would sell any of it, but I needed to be sure. They would, after all, need them one day very soon.

“Ahh, that reminds me,” Val said.

He’d been silent and still in his chair across the room, not caught up in the shared excitement of his friends. Over Anya’s shoulder, I watched him grab something off the floor. He set my bag on the table in front of him and a bottle of orange, cold medicine next to it.

Compared to the rest of my day, a case of the sniffles seemed like nothing at all. I smiled and made my way past the group still huddling around the bag of stolen supplies. Val’s fingers had stopped tapping, and he was doing his best to keep them still as I came closer. Of all the things I could have said to him, things which needed to be addressed even if I didn’t want to address them, I said, “Thanks.”

Val didn’t reply; he merely stared. There was no sign of the impassive trust I’d grown accustomed to seeing in his eyes over the last few days. No, he was studying me like he knew I wasn’t telling the whole story.

I kept a blank face, afraid to smile or say anything more to him. My mind backtracked over every single word I’d said. I hadn’t slipped up once, though. Did he need more proof? Was he still upset with me? Had Tristan called him and told him who I was, despite the threats I made on his life?

“Your eyes,” Val mumbled.

My contact. Of all the stupid, moronic mistakes I could have made, I had to pick the most noticeable one. Horrified was a grave understatement for the feeling pulling every fiber in my chest taught. With Val’s connections back east, it was possible he’d heard of the government dog with one green and one brown eye. Under his stare, I couldn’t remember how to open my mouth and lie.

An hour ago when I planned this out in my head, it didn’t seem hard. Reintegrate, plant the chip, and get back to the governor’s house. Simple.

I looked over my shoulder to where our friends were still examining the pillow case full of goodies. They were all relieved to know I’d made it back to them, unaware of my affiliation with the organization burying their city.

The revolutionaries had opened their home to me, shared their stories, and given me the opportunity to be the semi-carefree teenager I’d never had the chance to be. There were more people in the room with me at that moment who I cared about than there were anywhere else in the world, combined.

It made me sick to think I’d misled them all along. Their entire world, everything they knew, was going to be destroyed. Their homes, places they’d played when they were young, friends and memories, would all be buried. And my big solution was to stage their abduction.

“Nik?” came Val’s voice.

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat didn’t budge. The chair scraped across the floor as Val stood up. He repeated my name, quieter this time and sympathetic enough to trick me into looking back at him. It wasn’t a trick, though. The suspicion in his eyes was gone, and in its place, I saw the same concern from earlier that afternoon. That same concern I didn’t deserve.

I couldn’t think about the city falling anymore. All I could think about was Val and all the things I wanted to say to him. Things that were as illogical as they were impossible, but things I desperately wanted nonetheless, and things I couldn’t ignore with Val staring at me.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked. “Alone?”

257 Second Avenue East—Seattle, WA
Wednesday, November 18th, 2076—1:04 a.m.

an I talk to you for a minute?

A lifetime of military training and a compulsive lying gene, and somehow that was the best I had come up with. Val’s slight grimace assured me it was as uncomfortable a question as I feared. Still, he sent everyone out of the war room, suggesting they get some sleep after the long day they’d had.

A chorus of goodnights, the click of a door, and we were alone. Val remained seated on the far side of the table. His jaw locked, and his posture was straight despite the exhaustion in his eyes. He was trying harder than usual to appear cool and collected. It made me smile a little.

“I was born like this,” I said.

Val’s reserve faltered, his head tilting slightly. Apparently, those weren’t the words he’d expected to come out of my mouth. “You mean your eyes?”

I nodded and explained. “It’s a mutation, kind of like having webbed-toes, only not as weird. I’ve been wearing a colored contact lens this entire time.”

“Why?” Val asked.

“Not a big fan of the stares and questions I get because of it.” Val might not have seen it as some sort of gigantic confession, but for me, it was as if a weight had lifted off my shoulders. Telling the truth felt better than I expected.

Val sat quiet for a moment, studying the differences in color. I hoped he was only examining their strangeness and not trying to recall a friend’s mention of a government dog with two-tone eyes. A small smirk from him put me at ease.

“You don’t have webbed toes, do you?” he asked.

“No.” I laughed. “How about you?”

“Ha. I’m a Grey. There’s no way the great Genetic Gods would curse me more than they already have.”

Our laughter was short-lived then awkwardly faded back into silence. Complete silence. Val’s fingers were still where they were folded against his ribcage. If there was ever a time for him to be on edge, I figured this would be it.

“You’re not tapping,” I noted.

Pointing it out earned me a couple quick taps. He shrugged, and his posture stiffened again. “I had some time to get ready for this.”

“For what?”

Val hesitated. His fingers rapped then pulled into a closed fist against his side, like he didn’t want me to notice his nervous quirk. With a begrudging smile, he said, “The ‘I’m not into you’ conversation.”

I gave a short, uneasy laugh and rubbed my hands together to sweep the sweat off them. This was it. I could ride off on Val’s conversation with a casual “yeah” and let that be the end of it. There was just one problem. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to run back to D.C. with Val thinking everything between us was one-sided. I didn’t want to leave him like that. I didn’t want to leave him at all.

I had almost worked up the nerve to speak when Val beat me to the punch. “Nik, I… I mean I’m fine with ignoring those messages if you are.”

I was sure he hadn’t meant for it to sound like a challenge, but in my head, his words translated into a loud cry of coward. I was a lot of different things; coward wasn’t one of them. I walked around to the other side of the table with Val’s eyes following me every step of the way. He inched closer to the edge of his seat the closer I got, as though he expected me to be angry, and he was getting ready to run.

“I don’t want to ignore them,” I said.

“Huh?” Val stammered as he jumped from his seat. He held onto the back of the chair, half hidden behind it. “Wait, hold on. Are you serious?”

I chuckled. If only he knew. Even if I told Val everything, who I was and where I’d come from, I doubted he’d understand how serious I was. With only the width of the chair between us, I stopped and said, “I’m serious.”

“But you’re—”

“Straight?” I interrupted. I’d heard the same argument from him a few times before now. For a while, it even seemed like a good excuse to ignore what I felt, but not anymore. “Yeah, I thought so, too. Guess that makes you an exception.”

I’d expected Val to be happy with the news. Instead, he frowned and looked away. He grumbled something to himself, which I couldn’t make out. Val stepped back as I came around the chair. He bumped into the table and folded his arms over his chest, shoulders rolling forward and eyes on the ground between us. I was confused by the way he shut himself off from me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nik, we… We can’t do this.”

A chunk of ice scraped down my throat and dropped heavy into my stomach. Was I really getting rejected? Rejected by the person I was risking everything to be with? I was so stunned, so completely speechless; I couldn’t even be as upset as I wanted to be.

Val didn’t say anything more. The longer he fidgeted in uncomfortable silence, the louder the drums pounded in my head; the more bitter I grew, and the more courageous I became. I stepped closer. Mere inches between us, Val went still. His eyes flicked up to meet mine. They’d grown dark, the color of asphalt slick with rain.

“Back off,” he said, voice low and threatening.

I didn’t budge. “No.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Nik.”

“I like you.”

“I’m serious, Nik. This isn’t—”

“Val!” I seized him by the arms. My patience was strung thin, ready to break. Val’s mouth snapped shut. The muscles in his neck strained as he tried to swallow. I didn’t get it. Why was he pushing me away? After a week of banter, often one-sided, I was finally ready to accept things for what they were. I was finally his.

It was impossible to tell if my hands shook with ire or Val’s shoulders were quivering with unease. Maybe we were both just as upset. Maybe, but Val was giving me nothing to work with. I had no clue what he was thinking or how I could make us okay.

I squeezed Val’s arms tighter. His gaze dropped from mine. Never had I been so unappreciated, so shut off by another person. Even if Val didn’t know the truth about me, even if he didn’t realize how much I was willing to give up to be with him, that didn’t give him any excuse to close himself off.

“Val, talk to me.” I lowered my face to meet his eyes again.

I waited. Val said nothing.

Breathing became more difficult the longer I waited for a response I knew would never come. The hold I had on his arms slipped. It was too much, too far beyond what I could deal with after everything I’d been through.

There was nothing more to say. I’d leave a note on my way out, warning Val about the fall of the city, but I wasn’t going to waste another second on him. I reached past him, grabbed my bag off the table, and headed for the door.

“Nik,” Val said.

I shook my head and didn’t look back.

“Nik,” he repeated, louder this time.

Forget it
.
Forget him. Forget everything. Go back to D.C. and back to the way things were before. Before Seattle. Before the revolutionaries. Before Val.

The ache in my chest would fade. I never should have allowed myself to open up in the first place. I never should have put myself in a position to get hurt. It was all one big, stupid mistake. Dogs like me weren’t supposed to feel.

A sudden rush of weight struck my back. Arms encircled my chest and nails dug gently into my sides. Val’s head pressed between my shoulders. “Don’t! Don’t go… I’m…”

His arms tightened. There was enough morphine left in my system that his embrace didn’t hurt. Not physically, at least. I shoved his hands off, shrugged out of his hold, and kept walking.