“I’m pregnant.”
89
THE CONFESSION HUNG in the air between us, and I instantly wished I could snatch it back. I hadn’t told anyone—until that moment, I hadn’t fully admitted it to myself. But I couldn’t hide from it now. Saying it aloud made it real.
More than that—from the doctor’s expression, I knew it had power.
“It can’t be,” the doctor whispered, his face twisting in horror. “Fang is dead.”
I remembered when the doctor had kidnapped Fang. He’d told Dylan that Fang had to die because his invincible DNA posed too high a risk. I’d wondered why they didn’t kill him that day, and realized the doctor was too power-hungry to destroy the key to immortality.
Wordlessly, I switched my grip to one hand and unzipped my hoodie with the other. The wind whipped open the fabric, and Gunther-Hagen’s gaze traveled down to where the T-shirt underneath pulled taut against my stomach, revealing the smallest hint of a curve.
“It’s over,” he murmured.
“Oh, it’s just beginning,” I said.
And that’s when he pressed the screen on his arm again. “Reactor, engage,” he commanded.
I inhaled sharply, wincing as I waited for the explosion in the distance, praying that Dylan had managed to save as many kids as he could.
But there was no explosion, no far-off mushroom cloud that spelled death and destruction.
There was no beeping, either, or suggestion of a countdown, and I saw from Dr. G-H’s fury that it hadn’t worked. There was something wrong with the signal.
I didn’t know what had happened any more than Gunther-Hagen did, but I thought of Nudge’s hacking abilities, and Angel’s mind-reading, and Gazzy’s bomb knowledge, and I knew my flock had probably just saved my life for the thousandth time.
“What’s the matter, Hans? Is your final plan not working? I guess it doesn’t matter if you die now, after all.” My tone was biting, but my brain was flooded with such a surge of relief I felt like I was about to pass out.
I guess that’s why I was so unprepared for what happened next.
The old man lunged forward, gouging at my stomach with a silver pen. “That child is the virus that will plague the whole world!” Gunther-Hagen shrieked. “And I am the Remedy!”
“You’ve killed enough people already,” I snarled at him. “You don’t get to kill Fang’s child.”
Then, with all my strength, I flung him away from me, into the empty sky.
For a fraction of a second, he hung in the air, his white coat billowing around him, his eyes snapped open in surprise, his mouth frozen in a perfect O.
Then he fell.
I fluttered my wings, watching as the Remedy, the supreme terrorist of the world, plunged to the ground. I thought of Fang, how he must have grabbed at the air in the same panicked way.
Just before the body hit, I crossed my arms over my stomach and turned away.
90
EVERYTHING SEEMS STARKER in the daylight, doesn’t it? It’s easier to see all that you’ve lost, and all that you’ve gambled, and how hard it’s going to be to get back to where you started.
We never did have a victory celebration. After all the bombs and burned homes, no one was very excited about fireworks. And with blood still staining the field around us, no one could really imagine partying.
Not here, anyway. Not now.
Instead, for the past week, crews had worked on burying the dead and cleaning up the tent city. Others questioned captives and explored Himmel’s labyrinth of tunnels.
I had started hauling food up from the vast storage supplies of Himmel. I needed to do something with my hands—organize supplies and make plans for shelter, or plant some of the seedlings we’d found in the giant greenhouse. I needed to focus on the future.
But everything is so stark in the daylight.
I felt the faintest, mostly healed scratches on my stomach chafing against my shirt. Now that I’d said a certain two words aloud, the future was feeling like a pretty scary place.
I patted my belly button, feeling the swell that was growing a tiny bit bigger every day. I pressed my knuckles against the small curve, kneading in, but it always rebounded.
I really hoped this wasn’t going to be a great big egg to lay. How could I possibly sit still on it for nine months?
“What are you doing?” Angel asked from behind me.
I dropped my hand from my stomach and tried to clear my thoughts.
“Sorting supplies for distribution.” I tossed one of the frozen meals to her. “Dr. G-H sure loved him some TV dinners.”
“You have to put them back.” Angel was already messing with the piles I’d made. “Right now. The plants, too.” She nodded at the bean plants sprouting in the plastic containers. “They won’t survive out here in the cold, and we have to eat what we can in the forest before it’s gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’? The woods are full of wild game. We’ll have lots of time to build shelters and get set up out here before winter.”
“Try nuclear winter.” Angel squinted at the hazy sky. “Do you see how thick the dust is getting? The asteroid and all the bombs sent tons of stuff into the air, and that cloud is coming our way. It’ll totally block out the sun.”
She looked at the thousands of makeshift tents strewn around us. “Tomorrow we’ll get organized, try to contact any other survivors. We’ll probably have to go underground in less than a month.”
“You want to live in the Remedy’s city?” My body recoiled instinctively at the thought of those claustrophobic tunnels, and I shook my head. “I can deal with the cold.”
“Not cold like this,” the little prophet insisted. She pinched the top of a bright green bean sprout. “They’ll grow fine in artificial light.”
Could I, though? I thought of the small life taking shape inside me, never seeing the sun, and I started to shake.
Just focus on stacking supplies, I thought, gripping the packaged food so tightly I was crushing the boxes.
You don’t have to hide it from me, Angel’s voice said in my mind. I already know.
My eyes flew to hers.
Angel smiled. “Why do you think I made Dylan and Kate stay glued to your side during the battle?” she said with a smirk.
I was confused about so many things—including whether I wanted to strangle Angel or hug her.
“I’m not ready to be a mom,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
I’d fought super-mutants and defeated dictators, but this was so far out of the realm of things I could handle, I was asking a seven-year-old for parenting advice.
“Yeah, you do.” Angel smiled, bumping my shoulder. “You mothered us, didn’t you?”
I remembered the flock’s food fights at breakfast. My utter hatred of school. The way Nudge had to remind me to brush my teeth.
Not really.
Angel giggled and snuggled against me. I smoothed her pale curls away from her forehead like I had since our days in dog crates.
“I never got to tell Fang,” I said after a minute, my voice flat with defeat.
That was partly why I had been tracking him so desperately. I’d needed his help to find the Remedy, but I’d also had something urgent to tell him.
“Excuse me, ladies.”
I looked up to see Dylan standing in front of us—I’d been so wrapped up in talking to Angel that I hadn’t even noticed him coming.
“Hey,” I said, my face burning. I pictured the day that Dylan found out about the baby and just wanted to curl up.
“Max, can you come with me?” he asked. “I need to show you something.”
91
ANGEL LOOKED AT Dylan, her head tilted to one side. She frowned, but he met her gaze evenly.
“It’ll just take a minute,” Dylan said.
“Sure,” I said, standing up. I gave Angel a “we’ll finish talking later” look and she nodded solemnly at me. Dylan and I set off, and I couldn’t help smiling whe
n I saw Iggy demonstrating a homemade wrist rocket to Margaret A.
Dylan saw her, too, and gave me a rueful smile.
“So where are we going?” I asked.
“Remedy’s lair.”
My head whipped around and I stared at him. “What? What for?”
“I need to show you something,” Dylan said again, and I felt the slightest twinge of fear. Now that I was paying attention, he seemed kind of different. I’d hardly seen him for the past week—sometimes in the evening around a fire, he’d show up, looking exhausted. Almost haunted.
Again and again, Dylan had proven his loyalty to me and the flock, but the whole world had spun out of control and I couldn’t help wondering if being one of the Horsemen had changed him forever in ways I couldn’t imagine.
Or maybe I could imagine them. Maybe that was what the hint of fear was about.
“I am not going down that billion steps again,” I said lightly. “My legs are still aching from that.”
Dylan gave me an almost sad, distant smile and shook his head.
All around us, kids were working to build us a better future. I took comfort in the fact that there seemed to be people everywhere—no place felt deserted or lonely. Still, when Dylan led me inside Himmel and through the tunnels, I felt myself going on guard. And when he stopped in front of Jeb’s old lab, I hesitated and looked up at him.
“What are we doing here, Dylan?” I asked softly.
Again that slightly sad smile. “I have… a present for you. I think.”
Okay, that sounded ominous. I took a breath and felt my muscles tense. I really didn’t want to go back into that place. Looking up into Dylan’s crystalline aqua eyes, I searched them to read his intent. But I couldn’t.
He pushed open the door to the lab and gestured to me to go in. The last kids we’d seen had been a couple of minutes ago—out of screaming range. Pressing my lips together, I stepped in, praying that someone had gotten rid of Jeb’s body.
The lab had been cleaned up. Everything broken was gone, everything left was neatly arranged and labeled. I looked around in surprise.
“Who did this?” I asked.
“I did,” Dylan said. “I’ve been working in here.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “Doing what?”
“In a way, continuing my father’s work.”
I stared at him, unconsciously moving away and glancing around for possible weapons. “Dylan, come on,” I said, keeping my tone even. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” Dylan turned and went through a door on the other side of the lab. I instantly sprang over and grabbed a scalpel, though what I would do with it, I had no idea… Dylan was much stronger than me now. Hiding the scalpel behind my back, I waited, and in just a minute Dylan came back—pushing a hospital bed.
Someone was lying on that bed, covered by a sheet.
I saw just a bit of black hair spilling out from beneath the white cloth and almost screamed. My breath came shallowly as I stared at the bed, and then at Dylan.
“What… what in the world have you been doing?” My voice was high and squeaky. “Wh-who… who is that?”
“You know who it is,” Dylan said softly, and pulled back the sheet. “It’s Fang.”
And… that was when my pregnant self fainted like a schoolgirl, right onto the floor.
92
OR I WOULD have hit the floor, if Dylan hadn’t had enhanced reflexes and superhuman strength. My eyes fluttered open just seconds later to see him looking down at me in concern.
He was holding me in his arms as if I weighed nothing, and now he gently lowered my feet to the floor. I grabbed hold of a lab table to steady myself and felt anger rising in me.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I practically spat. “You know how I feel about clones. Your so-called dad was nuttier than a fruitcake, and you know it! Why would you do this? Why would you make a fake Fang?”
Dylan held up his hands, then pushed them through his dark blond hair in frustration, seeming to hold his head for a second. His jaw twitched and his teeth clamped together. Suddenly I realized I had dropped the scalpel when I fainted. Dylan must have seen it, must have known I’d picked it up as a weapon.
“Max,” he said tightly. “Everything I’ve ever done has been for you. It’s not like I’m a hero—we both know I was programmed to want to… be with you, above anyone else.” His eyes met mine. “You know how I feel, and how I would feel about you no matter what, whether I was programmed to love you or not.”
My cheeks heated and I swallowed, not knowing what to say. Why is he telling me this?
“I love you,” he said steadily. “I always have, and I always will. You know that.”
I looked away, not wanting him to humble himself this way.
“And I know you love Fang,” he went on more softly. “You always have, and you always will.”
Now I felt really bad.
“I—” I started, but he held up his hand to stop me.
“It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just how it is,” he said, and I felt a hormonal tear come to my eyes. “Once I hoped—I hoped maybe Fang was your first love, and I… I would be your last.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling an ache in my throat that might never go away.
“It’s not your fault,” he said again, gently. “This hasn’t turned out the way I hoped, but then, what has? The world hasn’t turned out the way we hoped, either, right?”
I nodded, praying I wouldn’t start blubbering.
Dylan swallowed again and glanced at the hospital bed. “I pretended to kill the flock, so they would be safe. I had less control over what happened to Fang. The Horsemen were there—Jeb and the doctor were trying out a new upgrade—and there was only so much I could do. You saw how Fang dragged them all over the cliff with him. You saw how one of them… took off Fang’s wing.” The last words ended in a whisper.
I nodded and wiped away a single tear, feeling like the most ancient fifteen-year-old in the world. What was left of it.
“I… waited until everyone was gone, and then… I flew down into the canyon.”
My eyes widened. No. I knew Fang was dead. Angel knew Fang was dead—she had felt it.
Dylan shrugged. “The doctor had labs all over the place. I found Fang at the bottom of the canyon, just as he was about to die. In fact, he might have actually been dead. At any rate, by the time I got him to one of the doctor’s labs, he was dead.”
My eyes narrowed. “Okay. And the point is…”
“The doctor had done all kinds of experiments. You can guess,” said Dylan, looking disturbed by the memories. “But he had the means to put beings into stasis, to hold them until he was ready for them, or whatever.”
I refused to have hope, refused to even think about it. “For God’s sake, Dylan. What are we doing here? Just—tell me.”
Dylan gestured to the bed. “That’s Fang. And… I can make him live.”
93
“WHAT…” WORDS FAILED me. That happened very rarely.
“Actually, it’s up to you,” Dylan said. “This is Fang, and he’s in stasis. His body healed itself, mostly, but his wing… well, it was gone. I’ve given him a new wing. It’s artificial but looks and feels just like the real thing. He’ll be able to fly.”
My head was spinning, and actually, the room was, too, a little bit. Abruptly I sat down on a lab stool, gripping the nearby table even harder. I just couldn’t take it in.
“What are you saying?” My words were barely audible.
“Experiments and artificial… parts. I know you hate it, hated everything that Jeb and the doctor did,” Dylan said. “And here I am, doing the same thing. But—I did it for you. Because I love you. I did it because this was Fang, and you love him. So I’m giving you a choice: Do you want me to complete the process? Or would it be better to let him go, the way he should have? Would you still want him, with an artificial wing?”
My eyes felt as big as moons
as I stared at Dylan. “Is he a cyborg?” My mouth moved but hardly any sound came out.
“No. It’s like a person having an artificial leg,” Dylan said.
“He would be alive? And—and normal?”
Dylan nodded slowly. “Flesh and blood and brooding silences, the whole lot.”
“I would want him,” I said. “I would want him, wings or no wings, arms or no arms, eyes or no eyes…”
For a long moment, Dylan looked steadily at me.
“Dylan—I’m going to have Fang’s baby.” That was hard—it was like a light went out in Dylan’s eyes. I felt terrible, seeing that this was the final blow, the thing Dylan would never be able to pretend away.
“Congratulations,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. Then he coughed and nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”
It was like being in a sci-fi movie, watching Dylan wheel in equipment, flip big switches, instruments jumping. He put diodes all over Fang’s still form. I was horrified by my decision, but I knew that even if Fang were a zombie, I would want him, and I would take care of him and protect him for the rest of my life.
Finally Dylan double-checked everything and nodded again. He came to me, and on his face were a calm acceptance and a sweet honesty that I would remember for the rest of my life.
“I love you,” he said.
“I know. I love you, too, but not—”
“I know. It’s okay. I just—want you to forgive me.”
“For what?”
Dylan didn’t answer, just took my face in his hands, so gently, and kissed my forehead. “Good-bye, my love.”
“Good-bye? What do you mean—”
And before I could move, Dylan grabbed a knot of wires in one hand and flicked the last switch. The lights in the room blinked on and off, there was a horrible buzzing, crackling sound, and I saw Dylan’s body spasming as thousands of volts of electricity surged through him.…
And into Fang.
On the hospital bed, Fang’s body arced once, then fell back. In the flickering lights I saw one of his hands twitch, his fingers curl. Dylan slumped to the floor, his eyes wide and still, his face slack except for the slightest smile on his lips. He was dead. He had killed himself so that Fang would live. He had killed himself for me.