Cured (24 page)

“I would never make you kiss me,” he whispers. “I see the repulsion in your eyes when you look at me. I'm not the kind of guy you should be thinking about kissing anyway, especially when you've got a decent guy trying to win your heart.”

The double meaning behind my words sinks in, and I lean away from him. “Okay, I did not just ask you to kiss me. And my eyes aren't filled with repulsion when I look at you.” My voice is filled with repulsion. A wave of guilt makes me want to shrink and disappear. “Wow. That sounded really bad. I'm so sorry, Jonah. I guess I have a talent for doing really stupid stuff.”

He drops his head and laughs a hoarse, whispered laugh, possibly the first laughter that has come out of him in four years. “I know I'm hideously ugly. You don't have to pretend I'm not.”

My heart aches at his words. I know how it feels to look at yourself and see nothing beautiful there. And then I think about how Jonah held the beast-child for hours while we waited for the cure to start working, and how he spoke so gently to me when the raiders caught me and Bowen was furious. He is good and kind and meek.
That
is real beauty.

“Jonah,” I whisper. I kneel in front of him, take his face in my hands, and lean forward until my lips are on his. They're cool beneath mine and so much softer than the rest of him. He kisses me back, soft and so gentle that tears spring to my eyes. He shouldn't be here. He's too good for this place. I pull back but don't let go of his face. “Real beauty can't be seen.” My voice trembles with the truth behind the statement.

He's quiet for a long moment, and I don't let go of his face. Finally, he says, “Thanks, Jacqui.”

I sit down on the mattress and wrap my hands around my knees. “And I hate Kevin, if he's the
decent guy
you're talking about.”

“Don't hate him. Not until you can make a fair judgment about him.” Jonah lies down on the mattress beside mine. “Life's too short to let little things bring you down.”

My nostrils flare and I grit my teeth. “You call Kevin's handing me over to a gang of raiders a little thing?”

“Yes. Trust me. There are worse things that could happen.”

“There are?” I don't understand how he can say this when I am living my worst nightmare. “Like what?”

He lies absolutely still and silent. When he doesn't answer, I take the rest of the granola bar out of the wrapper and eat it. It's not until I swallow the last bite that I realize my head didn't hurt when I chewed. I blink and my eyes don't feel like they're going to burst out of their sockets. Maybe there
is
something beneficial about eating beast spit.

I lie down on my mattress, rest my hands over my stomach, and stare into darkness.

“Being tortured by a group of raiders because they want you to tell them where your new bride is. That's probably worse.”

I sit up too fast and my head feels like it's going to snap off. Pressing my hands against my temples, I ask, “Are you talking about Bowen?”

“Yes.” He shifts, and the mattress he's on squeaks beneath him. “Or, having your free will stripped from you, and then being struck with the overpowering desire to kill and eat anything that moves. And then remembering it every waking and sleeping second of your life. That's worse than being handed over to a gang of raiders.”

I barely hear his whispered words over the drone of rain falling on the roof. But I
do
hear them. I think of the empty look in his eyes, his long silences, and my heart aches.

“I don't want to find my mom,” he whispers.

I gasp. “Why not?”

“I killed my dad. I remember it. It was in the music room. My hands . . .” He takes a deep, trembling breath. “My mom will never be able to forgive me.”

I reach out and touch Jonah, resting my hand on his shoulder. Kevin's betrayal is dwindling down to insignificance. My problems seem small now, relatively speaking.

“He's the Siren,” Jonah says.

I frown in confusion. “What?”

“Kevin. He's the Siren.”

I blink twice before answering. “Are you serious?”

“He denied it when I asked him, but I still think he is.” Jonah shifts on his mattress and the cuffs on his arms reflect the dim light seeping through the window.

“No way. He's a raider.”

“No, I'm pretty sure he's the Siren. Think about it, Jack. The cowboy warned us to keep away from the Sirens because, in the cowboy's opinion, Sirens are bad. But the cowboy is a raider. That means the raiders don't like the Sirens. That means the Sirens are probably good. Do you see what I mean?”

“Maybe,” I say.

“If I'm right, Kevin is playing both sides—raider and Siren. The raiders didn't brand him because more innocent people trust him that way. It was our
plan
to have him hand Bowen and me over to the raiders so we could get into this building without getting shot.”

“We didn't plan that,” I blurt.

“
You
didn't help us plan that part, but that's what we planned. Kevin didn't want you to know he was working with the raiders.”

I bristle with frustration. “Why wouldn't Kevin tell me something so important?”

“To protect himself and you. The fewer people who know what he really is, the more likely he is to live. The raiders think he is one of them, so they trust him. He can go where they are, and know what they have planned. That's how he saved us when we were at the golf course—by knowing how the raiders work—and how he saved you when you guys were surrounded by them later that night. Today, he didn't tell them that you're a girl, which drastically increases your chances of surviving.”

He pauses for a long moment and then adds, “I believe he's the one who freed the raiders' women.”

I think of the things I saw in his shelter—the tampons, the baby formula, the diapers. “Did they have babies? The raiders' women?”

“I don't know.”

It almost makes sense. Except for the fact that he handed me over to them. Especially if he broke all the women out in the first place.

“But he
gave
me to—”

“He had no choice,” Jonah retorts. “You were wearing a bright red sweatshirt! They
saw
you coming. If Kevin let you go, the raiders would have known he's the Siren, and his cover would have been blown. Can you imagine what they would do to him if they suspected he was the one who broke all of those women out? He'd be
lucky
if they killed him.”

I think of how I treated Kevin when he handed me over to
the raiders. If Jonah is right, I owe Kevin a huge apology. “So, why didn't they put me in wrist cuffs?” I ask.

Jonah laughs under his breath. “You're just a little thing—not a big enough threat. They cuffed me and were going to put me in with the beasts. … Electromagnetic cuffs are only necessary for beasts and Fecs. They'll shock me with them if I get out of line, and they are held together with five hundred pounds of force.”

“They have beasts here?”

“About ten.”

“Why?”

“Something about the ‘new guy' wanting them. I don't know if Fo told you, but drinking beast blood is a lot like eating beast spit. It makes you stronger and makes you heal faster.”

I shudder.

A light flickers, something more yellow than the stark, pale blue of lightning. An icy hand grabs mine, squeezing. “They're coming,” Jonah whispers. “Be tough, don't say anything stupid, and act twelve!”

The light flickers again, illuminating the square window in the door. A shadowed face appears in the window, and the slow arc of a flashlight sweeps across the room before stopping on Jonah and me. The door rattles and then is opened, and a black mass is dropped inside. The door slams shut and a lock clicks into place. Before I have time to wonder what just happened, Jonah is on his feet and across the room, grappling with the dark mass. It takes me a moment to realize what it is—a person.

“Jack, come here!” Jonah maneuvers the person onto a mattress.

I scramble over to Jonah's side and jump when a light flashes on. Jonah shines a small flashlight onto the person and I can't tell who it is because his face is swollen and bleeding. But then the mouth moves. “Jack?” And the voice gives it away.

“Bowen?”

He groans and one of his eyes opens just a tiny bit, too swollen to do more. “I was hoping you would have escaped by now.” His eye flickers to Jonah. “Have you been feeding her spit?”

“A little. She won't eat it.”

“Jack, you've got to eat the spit! If you don't get out of here, they're going to give you to—” He tries to sit up but Jonah pushes him back down.

“Who? They're going to give me to who?” I ask. There's something urgent in his voice. He doesn't answer. Jonah squeezes
Bowen's cheeks so his lips open and then spits into his mouth. I don't mean to, but my mouth puckers and I shudder.

A horrible gagging sound comes from Bowen's throat and then he swallows. His less-swollen eye cracks open again. “Wow. That's so much more pleasant when it comes from your sister.”

“Well, get used to it,” Jonah says. “You're going to need a lot more.”

Something bubbles up in me and spills out. Giggles. I press my hand over my mouth and hold them in.

Jonah and I clean up Bowen as best we can and then make him comfortable on one of the mattresses. By the time we're done, my head is hurting like I have an average, ordinary stress headache—a miraculous improvement. I lie down on a mattress with Jonah's mattress on the left, and Bowen's mattress on the right, and close my eyes. They haven't been closed that long before Bowen and Jonah both start to snore. I lie still and open my eyes, listening to Jonah's thrashing and mumbling. The sound mingles with the occasional rumble of thunder, the barking of dogs, and the deep hum of rain. I worry about my family, and Fo and Vince. But mostly I worry about me.

And then I hear a scratching, like a mouse scratching for food. I hold my breath and listen. The scratching changes to a tiny clicking sound, coming from the direction of the door. I prop myself up on my elbows and look at the door's dark window just as it swings open and someone comes inside. Whoever it is eases the door shut before creeping toward me.

I grab Jonah's shoulder and shake him. He gasps and sits up. “What?” he whispers, voice heavy with sleep.

“There's someone else in here!”

“Who's there?” Jonah asks.

“It's me,” the shadow whispers.

Jonah claps me on the back. “Good luck, Jack. Hopefully I'll see you soon.” He lies back down and rolls onto his side and I want to scream. The raiders are here for me and that's all he can say? “
Good luck, Jack? Hopefully I'll see you soon
?”

I hug my knees to my chest. The shadow kneels down on the mattress beside me and throws his arms around my shoulders. “I am so mad at you right now I could almost kill you!” he says. He squeezes me until my ribs creak against his.

“Kevin?”

He lets me go and then I am being kissed—warm, soft lips on my own. I shove him away hard, and he sighs. “You have
no right
to kiss me without my permission,” I whisper, voice bitter. “Oh. I forgot. That's what raiders do, isn't it?”

“Ouch,” Kevin says. Pulling me to my feet, he drags me toward the door. I dig my bare feet into the floor, but he's way stronger than me. “We've got less than an hour to get you out of here, so will you please cooperate? Once the sun is up, the raiders will be able to see us!” The door swings open like a slice of darkness, and Kevin pushes me through. I grab the door frame and hold tight, and Kevin walks into me.

“Jack, what are you doing?”

“What are
you
doing?”

“I'm breaking you out of here!” he whispers. “Hurry up! Let's go!”

“And leave Jonah and Bowen?”

“Yes! They still need to get the cure, and they're not about to die.”

His words hit me like a slap in the face. “
They
're not about to die … but I am?”

He pries my fingers from the door frame and pushes me into the dark hall. “Not if I can help it.”

“Wait … I'm really about to die?”

He shuts the door, and we stand in the black hallway. “Yes. They're giving you to their dogs this morning for practice.”

My brows furrow. “Practice? What kind of practice?”

“They've infected three of their dogs with the bee flu vaccine and taught them to hunt humans.”

I stare at the black wall as everything slowly makes sense. When a dog catches an animal, it always goes for the neck, either snapping it or tearing into it with its teeth.

I am neck-tearing practice.

For the raiders' dogs.

Which have been turned into dog-beasts.

The ground seems to drop out from under my feet, and I claw at the wall to keep from falling. Arms come around me, warm and gentle, and strong, and hold me upright. I press my face against Kevin's chest and inhale. He smells faintly of vomit.

“We need to go, Jack. I'm so sorry you ever had to come here in the first place.”

“You're sorry? You're the one who gave me to them!”

“Because I had no other choice. And now I am getting you away from them.” His hand trails down my arm and clasps mine. My life is spinning out of control, and the only thing grounding me is his hand. I clasp our intertwined fingers with my free hand and hold on like my entire existence depends on it.

Together, we walk down the long, dark hall. The only light
is from the square windows on the doors that line it—one shade lighter than pitch-black. We turn a corner and pause. The distinct
tap-tap
of hard-soled shoes walking on a hard floor fills the hall, and the golden glow of a flashlight dances off a wall not far ahead of us. Kevin yanks me back into the hallway we just left, opens a door, and shoves me into a room that is so dark I could be walking off a cliff and not know it. He shuts the door and puts a cold hand over my mouth.