“Mom … I should have come back. I should have visited.”
She reaches out and places her hand over mine.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “I’ve really made a mess.”
“Okay, darling. Start by telling me the truth and we’ll go from there.”
So I do. Mom and Dad know I’m a Blood. They were the ones who sent my test scores to be analyzed. They wanted security for me. Wealth, status, a nice place to live. They didn’t understand—and neither did I, in the beginning—what it would mean to have such a job. What I would have to do. What I’d be made to watch. They don’t get it, even now. All they know is that I work for the good guys, and Dave died trying to fight them. That kind of confused grief is enough to send anyone mad.
I tell Mom about getting shot, and about how when I returned from sick leave I was given a low-level job as punishment. I tell her about how I watched Josephine, how I started to lose my mind to obsession. How I lost forty pounds and stopped sleeping. I tell her about the night I first spoke to Josi, even though I knew it could get us both killed or worse—cured. I tell her about how we’ve been living together and I’ve been trying to help her figure out the truth. And I tell my mom how I was ordered this afternoon to kill my girlfriend before she murders any more innocent people.
“You love this girl,” she states.
I stare into my cup.
“And if you don’t take her in you’ll lose your job?” she asks faintly.
I feel the air leave my lungs in a gust. I feel sick. I should have known this would be her response. All she has ever cared about is making sure I’m not poor. Once upon a time that’s all I cared about too. When my brother went to protests and riots in the street, I went to work, knowing I had to keep my job to keep my money. I couldn’t afford to have any ideals, any opinions. I was a body for hire, and I was good at what I did.
Then my brother died and I realized there was a different reason to be a Blood now. I didn’t care about anything, not one single thing except the anger. The anger was mine, all mine, and it would only be mine if I remained uncured.
“I don’t care about my job,” I tell her. “It will be my life. They’ll cure me and turn me into a mindless drone.”
Her eyes drop to the table and I feel instantly bad. “Mom, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to insult you …”
“I know it’s true,” she says. “Your father hasn’t laughed in years. Even before Dave. I feel plagued by the thought that I might not be missing my son enough. I can’t … feel anything enough.”
I close my eyes.
“You can’t let yourself become like this,” she goes on. “Not ever, Luke. I don’t grieve for my dead son. I don’t love him. It’s like living through a waking nightmare. You wouldn’t … I’m not sure you would survive it.”
“So you’re telling me I have to have her killed then,” I say, voice breaking. “That’s the only other choice and you’re telling me to take it.”
My mother stands up and gestures for me to follow her. She takes me down the hall to where Dave’s bedroom sits. I pause outside the door, not wanting to go in. My heart is pounding like the panicked flutter of a bird’s wings. I can’t go in. I can’t.
“It’s just our Dave,” my mother says softly. “He’s nothing to be frightened of.”
So I follow her into my brother’s bedroom and I sit down on the bed, looking around at all the shades of Dave, and I know that she’s right—he isn’t frightening. It’s the idea that he was right all along that scares me to my bones.
Mom walks to the desk. There is an old-fashioned whiteboard against the wall, covered in pictures and ticket stubs. In the middle Dave has pinned up a quote, and as I read the words I feel everything shift.
“Your father and I always thought he was foolish and headstrong,” Mom says softly, running her fingers over the photo of Dave and Livvy on the desk. “But he was the smartest one of us all, wasn’t he? He knew about life, real life, and he knew how to live it big and fast, and full.”
I can’t help it now—I start to cry. I close my eyes and the tears slip out onto my cheeks.
“You have more than two choices, my love,” she tells me gently. “You have a third. You can stop behaving like a child, and become a man. You can fight. For yourself, and for the woman you love. Because there’s nothing else left.”
And then she reads aloud the words that defined my brother’s life, and as she does I come to understand that maybe I’m not so different.
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”
*
At home she’s gone. The only trace of her is a note, written in lipstick on the fridge.
I won’t put us before the lives of others. You don’t need me to fight—you’re brave enough to do it on your own. I love you.
I go cold with terror, and I start running.
Chapter Fourteen
September 16th, 2064
Josephine
I’m the cracked bed of a drought-ridden river. I’m dry and parched and sore and falling into thousands of tiny pieces.
I want to claw out my eyes and my hair. I want to yank the teeth from my mouth and tear the fingernails from my hands. I want to die.
I’ve been walking all night and all morning. Now the sun is high in the sky, so hot it’s making beads of sweat trickle down my aching spine. I know that what I’m looking for must be out here somewhere, but my eyes are unfocused and I’m having trouble staying upright.
Something is wrong with my body. Parts of me feel like they’re shutting down. But I have to reach my end before the curse takes over. I wish I’d had the courage to leave earlier. I should have done this days ago, so that there would be no doubt at all.
Finally I recognize the photo I saw on the news three months ago. This is the entrance to the site where they were building a new shopping center, but had to stop because of building restrictions. There’s a massive canyon out here that’s unsafe to have people working near.
I am a long way from where anyone lives. Surrounding me in every direction is rough wilderness. In the far distance I can see the smudge of the wall towering into the sky. And before me, as I stumble toward it, is the hole in the ground, deep enough to destroy even a curse-ravaged body.
I duck beneath the safety partition and stand at the edge. The drop is dizzying—I can barely see the bottom from this height. A crater gouged from the red earth as if with the fingernails of a mighty hand.
I look up into the sky, my vision blinded by the pure light. With my eyes stinging, I think of my parents, whoever they are. I think of the world we’ve been left to and I imagine a life outside this one, in a place where no one can take anything of yours. I imagine what a world without sadness would be like, and I think I’m quite happy not to see it.
I think of Luke’s brother and I wish I could have met him. He sounds brave.
I don’t think about Luke.
I don’t.
I close my eyes and take a breath. I must do this. I must. What will I be if I wake tomorrow and learn that I’ve killed again? I’ll barely be human anymore. My toes curl over the edge.
And that’s when I hear a sound from behind me. I freeze, disbelieving. It’s a car. I have to do this now. I can’t be around people so close to nightfall.
“Josephine!” a voice shouts. My heart lurches. How did he find me? I shake my head. There’s no possible way he could have followed me, so how did he know?
“Don’t you dare!” Luke yells. “Get away from the edge!”
I swallow. I can’t let him distract me. I have to do this now, before he creeps inside my head.
“If you jump I’ll hate you forever,” he tells me.
My mouth falls open and the breath catches in my chest. I look over my shoulder, which is definitely a mistake. He’s standing at the partition. He could reach me if he tried to. His green eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. There’s something different about
him, something frenetic and excited. Something real.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “You couldn’t possibly. Something like this … it could almost be forgivable. No control, no memory, no concept of the damage being done. But I know what it’s like to be hurt, to be attacked. It goes back so far I can’t even remember a life without it. I mean, Christ—when I was four they made me sleep outside in the rain because I didn’t finish my dinner. I got pneumonia from that. I’ve been hit and kicked and whipped and beaten in just about every way you could imagine. And it’s okay, but it’s not something I will ever forgive myself for doing to another person.”
He closes his eyes for a brief second. “If you die, you’ll be doing it to me.”
“This isn’t about you,” I utter. “My life’s not worth more than anyone else’s.”
“Yes it is,” he says loudly. “Don’t you get it? It is worth more because you’re the only one left with enough fury to fight!”
“This is… I’m trying to fight her,” I whisper. “This is the only way I know how.”
His jaw clenches. “I’m not talking about that anymore. It’s not just about fighting the moon and the transformation—it’s about fighting the cure itself, and the Bloods, and this wall that’s locking everyone in. The world needs you, Josephine Luquet. You’re going to help me find a way to stop all of this madness. I can’t do it without you. I won’t.”
I realize with a start that this is it—this is the difference. Luke has only ever wanted to fight my transformation. He never wanted to find the resistance—he wanted to coast along and live beneath the radar. He wanted to hide and survive. Now the wildness I saw in him from the start is making its way to the surface. He’s vicious and savage and he wants to fight the entire ruined world.
“Give me your hand, sweetheart,” Luke says.
I feel a thrill of excitement slam into my chest. I turn toward him, but something in my head hurts, and then it’s black and I’m falling over the edge.
Luke
She turns around and I see the moment that I get her. The spirit is back in her eyes. In that moment—that millisecond of time—I see our future stretch out before us. I see the two of us taking a stand. I see us together, for the rest of our lives, living in passion and joy, fury and love.
It’s a stupid thought, because it doesn’t take into account two things. First, that I’m the asshole who has lied to her repeatedly, and that she’ll loathe me until the day she dies when she finds out. Secondly, that there is still a kind of poison in her veins, turning her into a monster, and that we have no way of stopping it.
“Give me your hand, sweetheart,” I tell her, reaching out. She lifts her hand, but something comes over her, like a dizzy spell. Her eyes glaze over and she starts to fall backwards.
I launch myself over the partition, hooking my feet over it. Stretching myself to my full length, I catch her by the elbow, my hand gripping fast. She’s unconscious, which means she’s all dead weight, and she nearly pulls my shoulder out of its socket. Groaning with effort, I stretch out to take her other hand. Since my legs are hooked and the rest of me is dangling over the cliff, I have nothing to use as leverage and no way to climb back up. Breathing heavily, I think it through. I can’t last much longer like this. I’ll have to swing her up to the top. I start moving her from side to side, which has the unfortunate result of loosening my grip and scaring the shit out of me, but pretty soon I have her picking up momentum. Praying that it won’t hurt her too much, I haul her up to the side where she plonks down on the hard ground and makes a moaning sound. Using the cliff edge, I push myself backwards bit by bit, until enough of me is on solid ground to maneuver myself to safety.
I crawl to where Josephine is lying and check that she’s breathing. My hands brush her face and she opens her eyes.
They are red.
I jerk backwards in shock. All the blood vessels in her eyes have burst, and she looks like some sort of bloodthirsty demon. This didn’t happen last year. I’m sure of it.
“Josi?” I whisper. But she’s gone. There’s nothing human behind her eyes. Only a depth of cold such as I’ve never seen before.
She sits up slowly, her red eyes locked on me, vacant and terrifying.
“Josephine, it’s me—Luke,” I try desperately. I don’t know why I’m even bothering—nothing will bring her back now. I need to run.
The noise of an engine sounds close by and, before I know it, there’s a sleek black car exactly like mine rounding the corner and pulling up beside us. There are three men dressed in black within it—Bloods.
One of them I’ve met before but I don’t remember his name. I’m not supposed to—all I need to know is that he’s a Blue, the other two are just Reds, like the Blood Josi impaled on the meat hook in the factory. I outrank all three of them by a lot.
“What are you doing here?” I snap coldly. I keep one eye on Josephine—she’s staring at the newcomers with an eerie fixation.
“We came to make sure you did your job.”
“How did you find me?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
So Jean had me tracked. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s ironic, really, since I put a tracker on Josephine last week and that’s how I found her today.
“Go home,” I order. “This is under control.”
“We’re here to help you,” one of the Reds says mechanically.
We are standing around talking, when what we should be doing is running as fast as we possibly can. My heart is thumping painfully and adrenalin is pumping through my body. These boys are highly trained and dangerous, but they don’t understand the threat standing three feet from us.
Another noise interrupts us. It is further away, the sound of a much larger engine. We all stare in concern at the mouth of the road, and pretty soon a huge fire truck rumbles into view.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter in horror. “What is that doing here?”
The other Bloods share a glance—they still don’t get it. “Must be here for something to do with the construction.”
“Well get it out of here!” I snarl. “Or every person in that vehicle is dead.”
The Blue looks at Josephine skeptically. She doesn’t look dangerous. In fact she’s standing quietly, looking well behaved. But for her red eyes, you could almost believe she’s perfectly normal.
I’m not fooled. I know something’s going on inside that head, something sinister. The cells in her body are rearranging themselves to make her stronger and faster, fuelled by the white-hot flame of fury only she can feel.
The Reds move over to the fire truck, but they’re too slow—half a dozen men are already pouring out of it and approaching us. I start toward them, raising my hands to forestall them, but that’s when Josephine moves.
In this state she is faster than I am. Much faster. She moves past me with a fluid, animal grace, straight into the path of the first firefighter. He doesn’t even have time to react to her approach before she snaps his neck.
Everyone in the dirt clearing freezes. There’s not a single sound, for one impossibly long moment.
“Ray?” one of the firemen gasps, his voice strangled with sheer disbelief. It doesn’t make any sense.
Another fireman starts whistling. His brain can’t interpret the right response to what he’s seen. Neither can mine, actually—I don’t know what the right response is for this. I don’t know that there is one.
I force myself into the state of calm I use when I work. I can’t get emotional right now, or I’ll never save the rest of these men.
“Get back in your truck,” I order softly, my eyes locked on Josi. She’s staring down at the body of the man she’s killed. She kneels beside it and lifts the fireman’s head, letting it drop back down. She looks like a child playing with a doll, unable to understand that the man is dead. She does this again, lifting his head and watching it flop onto the ground. It chills me.
Nobody is moving. They’re too shocked
. “Get back in the truck!” I roar. The sound of my voice gets Josephine’s attention. Her eyes jerk up to me, blazing savagely. I hold her gaze, wanting to give the men a chance to get away.
Two of them get into the truck quickly, but three of them start toward Josephine, wanting to fight I suppose. The Bloods move quickly to cut them off, but Josi senses all the movement behind her and she lunges toward the Blue while his back is turned. She grabs his elbow, kind of like I grabbed hers to save her life. Josi pulls him backward with a jolt of strength that makes him lose his footing.
I have no doubt that if this man had seen her coming, he could have fought her and maybe survived for a little while—he’s a soldier. But the speed at which Josi now moves is undeniable. Before the Blue has even finished stumbling, she snaps his arm with a ferocious twist. He screams briefly, then cuts himself off because he’s trained to manage pain.
It’s pretty much a free-for-all now. The two Reds plus the three firemen attack her all at once. I race around to the back of the fire truck, searching for something I can use to dispel the situation. My eyes alight on the huge hose.
Climbing up to the reel, I unwind it and place it on the ground. It’s a monster of a thing, extremely heavy. I’ve got no idea if I’ll be able to aim it once there’s water bursting through it, but I have to try. I grit my teeth and wrench the wheel around—it takes all the strength in my arms to loosen it on my own.
Water explodes out of the nozzle, and I scramble down to catch the wildly bucking hose. From behind the truck I hear gunshots and my heart skips a beat. Wrestling the hose into tremulous obedience, I point it toward where the fight has been raging, but when I round the corner it is to see that all the men—every single one—have been torn into pieces. There is a pile of body parts and a pool of blood seeping toward my feet.
Woozy shock pummels me—it’s the most appalling thing I’ve ever seen, this macabre arrangement of human bits. But I don’t think about it—I can’t, not yet. I have to find Josephine.