Luke looks at me. Our eyes lock. He climbs in and holds me as he plunges under the surface, pulling me down with him. I open my eyes underwater. We are wrapped in each other’s arms and he’s looking at me and with tiny bubbles leaving our mouths we kiss.
Eventually we have to resurface for air. We bob up and rest on the slippery bath.
“I wish we could stay under forever.”
“Me too,” I agree.
“When will the world stop needing us?”
“I’m not sure it does.”
“That’s because you underestimate the impact you have.”
“Sometimes I want to leave,” I say. “I imagine building a boat and sailing with you until we find a new place. Or just walking. I picture us walking out and out and out.”
“What would we find?”
“I don’t know. Just … quiet. I used to imagine you swimming out into the sea until you were nothing but a speck on the horizon.”
“When did you imagine that?”
“When I was in the asylum. I missed you like a limb cut off.”
He swallows. His hand moves to my jaw. “You never say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you love me.”
I close my eyes so I don’t have to look into his too-green ones.
“Josi.”
“I feel it too much that I’m afraid to say it.”
“Darling,” he murmurs roughly.
I open my eyes. “But you know, right? You know I do.”
He nods a little. “I know.”
“Sometimes I miss you even when you’re in my arms. I’m scared of how much I love you.”
Luke lets his lips touch mine, but I move away because I’m anxious. “Psychologists say when it’s this intense it’s not real. They think it’s limerence, not love, and that it will burn out just as fast as it arrived.”
“What’s limerence?”
“It’s the sickness of love, the madness of it. The soul destroying, obsessive passion of love. Doctors called it unhealthy, a kind of fugue state we needed to break free of. They said that couples who suddenly fell out of love with each other didn’t love one another at all – they were just limerent.”
Luke thinks about this and the look in his eyes constricts my chest. He runs his hands down my stomach to my thighs and then in between them. “Maybe it won’t last forever but the sad ones who’ve never felt it must be the ones who say it isn’t real.” His fingers slip inside me and I gasp. Against my mouth he says, “I think I’d rather be limerent than anything else in the world. I think limerence is how love begins and maybe how it stays.”
*
Later he gets out to deal with dinner but I stay immersed in the water. My body is a prune, so wrinkled I could be ninety years old. I look at my fingers and imagine myself at that age, I imagine loving Luke this much so long into the future. I think of the intensity of it and wonder how it can possibly last.
It does feel like a fugue state, sometimes. A kind of madness all too similar to the one that crept inside me on those dark nights of the blood moon. And like that madness, it seems to me in this moment that whether or not this fugue state ends or lasts, such a thing could be very dangerous and very powerful. It could even be a weapon.
The sad ones who’ve never felt it must be the ones who say it isn’t real.
Chapter 6
March 6th, 2067
Luke
I pull the smoking tray of pork and leek sausages out of the oven and swear loudly. It is such a treat having meat that I can’t believe I let it burn.
“They’re still okay,” Hen tells me, peering over my shoulder.
I shake my head. Okay is disappointing. I wanted us to have one nice meal, just one, that wasn’t made up of damper or rice or pasta. At least all the vegetables will be tasty. I drizzle them in a garlic dressing and scatter some slithered almonds over the top.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“This is not cooking. But my parents taught me.”
“They must have been well off, cooking food like this.”
“Not at all. Later there was a period in my life where I could afford to buy any food I wanted.”
“Must have been nice.” She sighs. “I had a similar period.”
I look sideways at the girl. Josi’s still in the bath and Will is doing a perimeter check so I have a moment alone with Hen. “Money doesn’t mean anything real. I love good food but I love freedom more.”
“Well, obviously. Only sometimes it doesn’t feel like we’re free at all.”
“Why’s that?”
“We live with the rats and the monsters and we’re always worried about getting caught or killed.”
“It won’t be like this forever.”
“So how’s it going to be different?”
“We’ll make it different.”
“How?”
I hesitate. We don’t talk to the kids about our big plans. The ones that include taking out an entire government. Because they scare even us. They’re unwieldy and difficult to grapple with, they have an unknown outcome and they’re more than likely to get us all killed. But something about Henrietta craves big, even the scary big.
“By changing the way this city works.”
“Are you going to seize control?” she asks. “You’d be a perfect leader.”
I shake my head. “There can’t be only one leader and even if there could be, it wouldn’t be me.”
“That’s stupid. There’s no one else it could be.”
I don’t respond. I don’t like the idea of that.
Hen lowers her voice. “I’m not sure Josi’s up to this. I could go. I’d blend in better. I’m more comfortable in that kind of situation. My parents took me to functions all the time.”
I glance at her as I slice tomato for the salad. “You’re sixteen. They wouldn’t let you anywhere near that kind of party.”
“I wouldn’t look sixteen.”
“Hen. There’s no way in hell. There’s also no need. Josi’s got it covered.”
“She’s not—”
“She was messing around in the shop but she takes ops seriously. She’ll do whatever she has to.” I add with a smile, “And if you think she’s not the most beautiful woman on the planet then you’re out of your mind.”
Henrietta blushes and immediately walks out the back door, presumably to find Will.
Despite my confidence I’m worried too. Not about Josi’s abilities but about the danger of sending her into a pen of starved perverts. It makes me queasy.
As I set the table she emerges with dripping wet hair and flushed pink cheeks. She looks relaxed and not the slightest bit nervous about tomorrow. We sit down to eat and they’re all very good about oohing and aahing over the food, even though in my opinion it’s nowhere near up to scratch.
I look around at the little safe house. Its layout is quite similar to the house I grew up in, which is only a couple of blocks away. Apart from the millions of security cameras set up everywhere here, the house feels familiar and I can almost imagine that the four of us are a different four: a mother and father and their two sons sitting down to eat dinner.
“Here’s to last suppers!” Josi announces, raising her wine.
Nobody follows suit.
“I’m kidding. Jeez, lighten up.”
“At least we can take comfort in the fact that even if you do die tomorrow one of the other universes will hold the you that doesn’t,” Will offers placidly.
“Come again?”
“The multiverse theory.”
Henrietta rolls her eyes. Will sees it and looks crestfallen.
“Explain,” I prompt him. I’ve heard of it but can’t wait to hear his explanation.
He shrugs it off.
“Explain,” Josi and I say together.
“It’s the theory that because of the rapid rate of expansion of our universe, one day in billions of years all matter will be wrenched apart, leaving a massive void of emptiness. But this
emptiness will make way for more big bangs, the births of new universes. And if this is true, it essentially means that when our big bang occurred, there were probably a whole lot of others beside it, giving birth to many many parallel universes wherein any and all possible outcomes occur. So if you choose to do the mission tomorrow in this universe, there’s also one where you don’t, and a whole different set of events are spurred. The multiverse.”
My eyebrows arch, impressed. Josi is more than impressed – I know she loves this idea but for Will’s sake pretends she hasn’t heard it before.
“That is so so so cool,” she breathes.
Henrietta nods tightly as though she can hardly admit to liking such a nerdy thing but does anyway.
Will smiles.
“But surely all these other universes wouldn’t be identical to ours,” I protest. “I mean, there probably are a bunch out there, but surely there wouldn’t be versions of us in them. The simple fact of us being here in this one is like the luckiest thing ever when you think about how many millions of animals had to survive and breed in order for humans to evolve and then how many had to survive to preserve our exact ancestry. Thousands and thousands of generations led to us, and not one of them died before they could have a child. That’s just crazy. And miracles like that don’t happen more than once.”
“Who says? If there are infinite universes then there must be a whole bunch that reach our births and then splinter off differently,” Josi points out. “Maybe we’re in some but not all.”
It’s a strange thought. I’m not sure I like it, actually, but Josi’s eyes are alight with the idea of her alternate selves. I wonder what it is that she imagines for them, and what she could regret so much about this reality.
“Maybe in one universe I’m a concert cellist.” Josi grins. “Nah, that’s too boring. I’m a trapeze artist. Or a hot air balloon pilot. And I sail around the clouds of the world, walking the high wire at dazzling and never-before-seen heights.”
“Maybe we all have bat wings and sonar clicking capabilities,” Will suggests, the weirdo.
“Ooh, yeah, and we fly around clicking blindly at each other until we find our families,” Josi agrees.
“Maybe everyone gets to eat whatever they want, whenever they want,” I say. My imagination is much more boring than theirs.
“And swim in the ocean. Maybe we’d all have sealcoats we could shed when we come ashore, like the sea folk,” Josi says wistfully, reminding me of when I told her that story while swimming in the ocean. She turns to Hen. “Come on, what would your multiverse alter ego be like?”
Henrietta fidgets uncomfortably. “Maybe … she’d be a queen.”
“There you go!” At least my imagination is better than Hen’s.
We laugh and keep playing. I grab a brush and tackle the knots in Josi’s hair, since she refuses to bother with it herself. It’s become our nightly ritual, one I spend most of the day looking forward to.
*
As tomorrow draws closer, Josi tosses and turns in bed and makes it impossible for me to sleep. I pull her against me and hold her limbs so she can’t move.
“Deep breath in, let it out slow,” I murmur.
She does so, again and again, and I feel her heart begin to slow.
“Let your mind settle and hold on an image.”
Sometimes this is the only way she can get to sleep. If it works it won’t last long before her nightmares wake her again, but then we’ll just try the meditation once more.
Softly she says, “Maybe in one universe we never evolved from animals. Maybe we’re all wild beasts in that one, just as we started.”
In the corner of the room I see the shadows of flying birds. I don’t see them often, but when I do it’s an all-too-painful reminder of the blood moon and its hold over me. The one I choose to keep hidden from Josi. The one I have to deal with again in six months’ time.
“Maybe in that universe there are still birds,” she says, as though she has seen the shadows herself.
I watch the flutter of wings and reply, “Maybe.”
*
March 7th, 2067
Josephine
Teddy has done his job well. When I arrive to wait at the gate with the other women someone scans my eye and thumbprint, and my identity appears in their records as cleared for work tonight. Half a dozen Bloods escort us inside to where a small bus waits to carry us through the winding streets. Lush greenery lines the roads, while trickling fountains and modern sculptures are dotted through stretches of immaculate lawn. White fairy lights dangle from trees. The buildings are a mix of modern and old architecture, and are all bigger and more regal than any that still exist in the city. I’m still gazing around at it all when we arrive at a circular driveway. It takes us around the biggest fountain yet – oddly it’s shaped like the molecular makeup of DNA – and stops before the entrance of what looks like a palace.
Here we are searched for weapons again, scanned, and ushered inside. The carved ceilings are so high I can barely see them. It’s like a museum. We are lined up on either side of a huge gold staircase and I see the other women plastering smiles on their faces, sticking their chests out and tilting their knees. I copy them exactly, even down to the slightly vacant look in their eyes.
“Okay team, Dual’s inside Shay’s house,” Teddy says in my earpiece. He’s watching the whole thing from the tunnels, and linking all our teams together.
“I’m directly below,” Luke informs us. “It stinks like shit down here, unsurprisingly. I’m about to go underwater so I’ll be radio silent for the next twenty minutes.”
“We’ve circled the perimeter and locked onto heat signatures,” Will says. “All looks quiet, no unusual activity from the guards, no movement within.”
I, of course, say nothing because it would get me instantly killed. Bloods watch us so closely I can sense the woman beside me growing nervous simply from the scrutiny. They are all very beautiful, and Hen was right – all are covered elegantly from neck to wrists to toes. Some even have head scarves. Their gowns are worth a million times what mine is and even I can tell that just from glancing. They look and smell of wealth and class and confidence.
The only thing I’ve got going for me is that I happen to be quite a good actress and an excellent liar. I set my spine straight and my face almost entirely blank, but not quite. The key, it seems, is to still be a human, just one caught between obedience and disdain.
The men arrive and champagne flows freely. We mingle in what can only be described as a ballroom, for god’s sake. The chandelier glitters while trays of unbearably expensive food are offered. The whole thing reeks of decadence and I hate them all so much I can hardly focus.
“Bloody hell,” Teddy says in my ear. “So this is how the other half live.”
“Not half,” Will reminds him. “Less than one percent.”
“True. One one-hundred thousandth of the city’s population, actually.”
I circle slowly, not wanting to speak to anyone directly and trying not to catch anyone’s eye. Falon Shay has yet to arrive. He always comes last, according to Luke (who, it turns out, came to three of these nights, cheeky bastard), which means I have time to get out of here before he shows up and recognizes me.
The speed with which things start to unravel astonishes me. Before I can blink, cocaine is being snorted and men are kissing women or pulling them into corners or spare rooms or just groping them where they stand. Gambling tables are opened and a man shouts at another, play-acting a fight. There is a performance being enacted around me and it’s one of emotion. A parody of emotion, of huge hand gestures and lifted voices and cackling hysterical laughter. It is the trend, I realize, to be full of feeling, to be overt with it, to advertise its presence as a means of stating their position in this world. They are rich and high-born and pure-blooded and just better than the rest of us, so they’re the only ones who’ve been spared the cure.
I’m sickened by it; I have to get out.
&
nbsp; Near the door I’m stopped by an older man with meaty wandering hands and it reminds me so much of the time I was attacked in a casino bathroom that I almost have a panic attack.
“Where are you scurrying off to, little mouse?”
I take a long, slow breath and look him in the eyes. “Just the bathroom to freshen up.”
“You’re fresh as you are. Fresh and un-plucked, by the looks of you.”
Ew.
“On the contrary,” I say. “I’ve been plucked so many times I might as well be a harp.”
He stares at me and then his face twists with distaste. “How vulgar.”
“Indeed! Unforgivable, in such esteemed company. Excuse me while I wash my mouth out with soap.”
Teddy and Will are both laughing as I make my way toward the bathroom.
“I’m in place,” Luke suddenly pants. “The water is mighty cold, so if you could move things along, my darling, that would be greatly appreciated.”
“Looking for a way out now,” I mutter, since there’s no one in this hallway.
“Just so you know, certain appendages may have frozen off by the time you reach me. Very necessary appendages.”
“Necessary for who?”
“For both of us – trust me.”
“Gross,” Will comments.
“Stop distracting me,” I scold Luke.
“Sorry.”
“Dual,” Will suddenly exclaims. “We’ve got eyes on Zachariah.”
“Where?”
“He’s with his father in the grounds.”
“What? Why? What are they doing?”
“Dunno. Talking by the looks of it. Standby.”
I reach the bathroom. Inside there are a couple of other women retouching their makeup or doing lines of blow. There are toilet cubicles, for crying out loud, like we’re not in someone’s house. I shut myself in a stall and gather my breath. No way to escape out of the bathroom as there aren’t any windows. I decide to actually pee, then head out and wash my hands, all the while waiting for Will to tell me what the hell’s going on.
“I like your dress,” a woman tells me kindly. She’s a tall redhead, beautiful and willowy. Her dress is scarlet and made of such fine silk it looks like rippling water.