She moved it an inch, then another, each one slow and agonizing, when suddenly she heard an audible snap in the bowels of the machine, and a surge of electricity racked her body.
The pain was excruciating. Every muscle in her body clenched at once, flexed tighter than she ever knew was possible, and suddenly the pain was gone, and she was gasping for air. Her head felt fuzzy, and she struggled to think; she felt like she’d been beaten with a metal bat but couldn’t tell where. She croaked, trying to speak.
“Help.”
The surge came again, a raging maelstrom of electric current coursing through her body. Her eyes rolled back and the world went dark. Her entire world was formless, placeless pain, and suddenly the shock was gone again. Her heart was fluttering erratically, and she felt her head grow light. She fought to stay awake.
“Help me,” she whispered. Her voice was feeble and hoarse. “The scanner is … electrocuting—”
Another burst of electricity cut her off, drowning her in pain, and when it stopped her lungs took five full seconds to start working again, her heart run ragged by the extra current, her body too confused to know what to do. When she finally breathed again, desperately sucking in air, she smelled the acrid stench of her own charred flesh. Her eyes focused slowly, and she saw that the door was open now, just a few inches, and an eye was peeking through—two eyes, one white and one black.
Not an eye, she thought, her brain like mush. It’s the barrel of a gun.
The door rocked slightly, shoved uselessly against the pile of rubble by the soldiers beyond. It didn’t budge. “It’s the girl. Is anyone else alive in there?”
“You have to help me,” she croaked. “My heart is stopping.”
“Can you see the prisoner? Has he already escaped?”
“The beats are … too erratic,” she said, feeling her body start to shut down—her muscles, her heart, her lungs slowly fading into nothing. “You have to help me. One more shock … and I’m.…”
She heard voices—shouting and screaming that seemed a hundred miles away. A warm breeze blew softly across her face, and she opened her eyes. The world was a formless blur, and yet something was there, moving, and suddenly the pressure on her legs was gone. The massive DORD machine flew across the room; the world rang in her ears. Strong arms pulled her clear of the wreckage, and she tried to focus. Someone was holding her, carrying her, checking her for wounds.
“Thank you,” she coughed. Her voice was so quiet she could barely hear it herself. She clung to her rescuer tightly. “I think … he got away.”
“I’m right here, Kira.”
I know that voice.
She struggled to think, straining her eyes, and slowly the world came into focus: Samm was holding her, his clothes still smoking from the explosion, the tattered restraints hanging useless from his arms. Around them the room was destroyed, the floor covered with rubble, the wall a gaping hole. The trees swayed in the wind. The crumpled mass of the DORD machine lay discarded in the corner; Shaylon lay in the other corner, bloody and still.
She looked up at Samm. “You saved me.”
The door finally wrenched open, and soldiers poured in like a flood. “Put her down!”
“He saved me.”
“Put her down now!”
Samm knelt, laying Kira gently on the floor. As soon as she was clear, the soldiers sprang forward and knocked him down with the butts of their rifles. Kira tried to speak, struggling to protest, but she was too weak. All she could do was watch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The room was dark. Hospital equipment beeped softly, tiny lights blinking on and off in the shadows. Kira opened her eyes, then closed them, gasping, her mind still full of pain and light, as if she were still in the midst of the explosion.
Samm saved me.
The soldiers had beaten Samm for almost a full minute before chaining him back up, kicking him in the stomach and hammering him with their rifles. He never fought back—he didn’t run when he had the chance, and then he didn’t fight back, he just let them hit him, over and over, an agonizing string of thuds and cracks and grunts of pain.
He’s a Partial, she told herself. She had told herself the same thing a hundred times over the past three days. He’s not even human. We don’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s thinking, what he’s plotting. And yet even as she said it, she knew she didn’t believe it. He wanted the same thing she did: to solve their problems instead of just working around them. On the entire island he was the only one she’d found who agreed with her.
But he was a Partial.
Kira tried to sit up, but a pain in her leg knocked her breath away. The same leg she’d had burned by the DORD machine. She moved the blanket for a better look, but was bandaged and she couldn’t see it well. She could recognize the itchy burn of her muscle fibers knitting back together, and knew she’d been treated with a regen box. It would be a while before she was well enough to sit up, let alone stand or walk.
She heard a soft sigh and looked across the room at another hospital bed. There were more than enough rooms in the hospital, but only enough juice to power a few floors, so most patients were doubled up. She peered closer at the shape in the bed, nearly faceless in the dim light, and realized with a start that it was Shaylon. He must have been shattered by the explosion—the way he was bandaged, he must have had dozens of broken bones, and hundreds of cuts and abrasions from the shrapnel.
His breaths were small and feeble, but he was breathing on his own, and he appeared stable. It looked like he was going to pull through.
He’d seen the Predator in the blood, and he’d heard her speculations on its nature. Had she given too much away? Had she exposed too many secrets? The island was ready to burst into flames at the slightest spark; when he wakes up, please let him keep quiet.
Kira heard footsteps in the hallway and looked at the door just in time to see it open.
“You’re awake,” said Nurse Hardy.
“What happened?” Kira demanded. “How long was I out?” She stopped short when she saw the nurse wheel another bed into the room. It was Madison. Kira sat up quickly, gasping at the stab of pain in her leg.
“Madison, are you all right?”
“She went into early labor,” said Nurse Hardy. “We managed to stop it, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it much further.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Madison. She looked over at Kira. “They won’t even let me sit up anymore, let alone walk. Let alone use the bathroom.”
“Just stay calm and rest,” said Nurse Hardy. “We’ll keep you in here for a few hours while you recover, and then we’ll see if we can take you back to your regular room. You have to relax.”
“I’ll relax,” said Madison dutifully. “I’ll stare at the ceiling and won’t move a muscle.”
“You should sleep,” said Nurse Hardy. She glanced over at Kira. “And you should too. You were only asleep for a few hours, and your body needs rest. Let’s have a look at your leg.” She pulled back the sheet over Kira’s legs and lifted up the edge of the bandage; Kira held her breath, trying not to react to the pain as the moving bandage tugged at her burn. Nurse Hardy tutted disapprovingly at the palm-size patch of blackened skin, gooey with burn cream and antiseptic. “It’s healing, but it’s a nasty burn. We’ve already used a regen box on it just a few hours ago, so we’ll have to wait awhile before another treatment.”
“Thanks,” said Kira, gasping softly as the nurse gently laid the bandage back down.
“Go to sleep,” said Nurse Hardy, “both of you.” She left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Kira looked at Madison’s outline in the darkness.
“Mads, do you know what happened up there? Was it the Voice?”
“It must have been, but I don’t know much more than you do. There was an explosion. Someone got through the security perimeter.”
Kira hesitated. “And Samm?”
“Samm?”
“The Partial.”
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Madison gave her an odd look. “I’m sorry, Kira, I don’t know. I had more problems with the abruption, and I was getting examined when the explosion hit. I haven’t been able to move, much less talk to anyone who has any idea what’s going on.”
Kira fell back into her pillow, grunting at the release of tension in her burned leg. “I can’t be here. I have to find out what’s happening.”
“You and me both.”
Kira laughed dryly. “Sounds like you’re just as bad off as I am.”
“Oh, you know. Sunshine and rainbows.” Madison shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. “I’ve got ten weeks left, and I’ll be lucky to make it four.” Her voice grew soft and sad. “I’m going to lose her, Kira.”
“You’re not going to lose her.”
“Even if she’s born on time—even if she’s born late, with plenty of time to develop—I’m going to lose her to RM.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You can’t stop it,” said Madison. “I know you’re trying, I know you’ve done everything you can possibly do to help, but it’s not enough. Maybe someday, but not for me.” Her voice broke. “Not for Arwen.”
Kira cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Arwen?” She thought she knew all the pregnant mothers. Maybe Arwen’s a new one? I’ve only been working with Samm for three days, but that’s plenty of time for a new mother to get on the list.
Madison started to speak, hesitated, then whispered softly. “Arwen is my baby. I named her.”
The thought hit Kira like a punch in the gut.
“Mads—”
“I know I shouldn’t have,” said Madison. “I know. But I love this baby, Kira. I love her more than I can even describe to you. It’s like I know her already—she’s so independent, and so strong, and so … funny. I know it sounds ridiculous, but she makes me laugh every day. It’s like we’re sharing a joke no one else can hear. I couldn’t not name her, Kira. She’s a real person.”
“I’m so sorry, Mads.” Kira wiped her eyes. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you to have Samm here in the same building—”
“Haru doesn’t know I’ve named her,” said Madison. “And no, I don’t hate the Partial.” Kira thought she saw her shrug in the darkness. “Whatever the Partials did, they did it eleven years ago: If I held a grudge that long, I’d be just as dead as everyone we left behind. I don’t want to live in a world full of dead people.” She paused, breathing deeply. “And anyway, even if she dies, at least I got to meet my daughter. At least I got to laugh with her jokes.”
The door opened again, and Nurse Hardy returned with a syringe. Kira wiped her eyes.
“Just a little something to help you sleep,” said the nurse.
“I don’t need it,” said Madison.
“You don’t want it,” Nurse Hardy corrected, prepping the needle. “I’m the one who decides what you need. Some sleep will do you good.” She pulled the cap from Madison’s IV tube, inserted the needle, and pressed the plunger. “All done. It should only take a few minutes to kick in, and you’ll finally get some rest. I’ll see you again in the morning.”
Madison sighed. “Fine.”
“I want to see Mkele,” said Kira. “Now.”
“And what do you expect me to do about it?” asked Nurse Hardy. “There’s been an attack on the hospital; Mkele’s busy.”
“Can you find him?”
Hardy gestured at Madison and shrugged helplessly. “She’s one of seven mothers on the floor right now. I’m pretty busy myself.” She sighed. “If I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
“Thanks.”
Nurse Hardy left, and the room returned to darkness.
Kira wiped her eyes again. “Arwen Sato,” she said. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“It’s my grandmother’s,” said Madison. “I know Haru wants a Japanese name, but I think he’ll like this one.”
“I think he’ll like it a lot,” said Kira.
“Then I’ll see you … in the morning.” Madison yawned again. Kira watched as her friend slowly calmed, stilled, and fell asleep. Her breathing was deep and rhythmic.
I’m not going to let her child die, thought Kira. I don’t care what it takes. That baby is going to live.
But how? She shook her head, completely overwhelmed. The civil war may have already started, and I can barely walk. And that last blood sample—it was exactly what I never expected it to be. A new strain of the virus that no one’s ever seen? It doesn’t make sense. I thought I knew how RM worked, but now … everything I thought I knew was wrong. And I’m out of time to find the answers.
Kira drummed her fingers nervously on the rails of her hospital bed. I need to put all the pieces together. She thought back over the things she’d learned, trying to see them in a new way. RM had four forms, or at least four that she’d found thus far: the airborne Spore, the blood-borne Blob, the Lurker from Samm’s breath, and the Predator from the newborn’s sample. I thought the Spore would turn into the Blob, but it didn’t. It turned into the Predator. And according to the older records, it had done the same thing in the past, so it wasn’t an anomaly. Does it happen every time? What if the Predator is an intermediate step between the Spore and the Blob?
She mentally reordered the versions of the virus, naming the airborne Spore Stage 1, the Predator Stage 2, and the Blob Stage 3. No one had ever actually seen the Blob virus kill anyone—it was in everyone’s blood, so they made the natural assumption, but it had always been in the survivors’ blood. What if it wasn’t actually deadly? What if the killer is the Predator, and then by the time we run a test it’s changed into the Blob?
Kira shook her head, cursing the explosion. If I could test another sample, without an explosion interrupting me, I could know for sure what’s going on here. Maybe. But I don’t have time for more tests—I don’t even have a lab anymore. She shifted again, trying to move, and gasped at the pain in her leg. She cried out in frustration. How can I fix this when I can’t even move?
The door opened again, and Kira looked up to see Dr. Skousen, and after him Mr. Mkele. Skousen walked to Shaylon’s unconscious body.
Mkele locked the door.
“You’re awake,” said Mkele, studying Kira carefully. She smoothed the sheets on her legs and stared back defiantly. “I’m glad. This concerns you.”
“What happened?” she asked. “And where’s Samm?”
Dr. Skousen walked to Madison’s bed, probing her head and face carefully with his fingers. “She’s asleep.”
“Good,” said Mkele. “Let’s get started.”
“What the hell is going on?” Kira repeated, trying to sound as firm and commanding as possible. Instead she felt weak and vulnerable—wounded and tired, half-naked in a hospital bed. She pulled the sheet tighter around her thighs and back. “That was a Voice attack, right? Have they attacked other sites—has the civil war already started? And someone tell me what’s happened to Samm!”
Dr. Skousen pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his lab coat, followed by a small syringe and a tiny needle. The needle seemed to fill Kira’s vision, glinting softly in the faint light.
“Samm is contained,” said Mkele. His eyes looked tired, his face gaunt. “We’re here to contain the other loose end.”
Kira tensed, eyes shooting around the room to look for exits—the door was locked, the window was locked, and her leg screamed in pain even just thinking about running. She looked at Dr. Skousen, slowly filling the syringe, then at Mkele. “You’re going to kill me?”
“No,” said Mkele, walking toward her, “though we do ask that you refrain from shouting.”
Dr. Skousen held up the syringe, and flicked it with his finger. Kira’s eyes grew wide, she opened her mouth to scream, and Mkele clamped a hand over her mouth, grabbing her shoulder and holding her still. Dr. Skousen stepped not toward her, but back toward Shaylon. He inserted the needle in the young soldier’s IV tube an
d pushed in the entire dose.
“We did not want this,” said Mkele, practically whispering in her ear. His voice was thick and heavy. “Whatever else you think of us, know this: Our hand has been forced.”
Kira watched in horror as the chemical from the shot swirled through his IV tube and into his body. No, she thought. No, no, no.
“I’m going to let go of you now,” said Mkele, hands still clamped tight around her face. “I’m going to uncover your mouth. You are not going to scream.” He waited until Kira nodded, still wide-eyed with terror, then lifted his hands and stepped away. “There. It’s done.”
“What did you do?”
“We gave him medicine,” said Mkele, “but I fear that even with it, he won’t pull through.”
“You killed him,” said Kira. She looked at Dr. Skousen. “You killed him.”
“No,” said Skousen. He sighed. “He died tragically from injuries caused by the explosion.”
“But why?” she pleaded.
“He saw too much,” said Mkele. “Far more than he was intended to see. He would have told others, and we cannot have that.”
“We could have stopped him first,” said Kira. “We could have isolated him, and explained what we needed, and—”
“You’ve met the boy,” said Mkele. “I trust him to go where I tell him, and to shoot where I aim him, but I do not trust him to keep this secret. Not after what’s happened.”
“Then what about me?” Kira demanded. “Obviously I can’t keep a secret either, so why not kill me too?”
“Shaylon was a liability. You are an asset.”