Feuds (23 page)

She looked behind her, but no one had followed. Maybe not everyone had seen the tabloids yet—it was still early in the day. Eventually, the very same motie she'd seen the other day idled up to her spot on the bank.

“You back for more, pretty girl?” he asked. Another sharp wave of nausea rolled through Davis's stomach, and this time she didn't fight it off—she gagged into the weeds at the bank, but nothing came out. There was nothing in her to expel. She righted herself, wiping tears from her eyes. She made an effort to straighten her shoulders, and she zipped her jacket, pulling the hood up to conceal her face for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Then she faced the motie, nodding back at his toothless grin. She stepped inside the rickety vessel and steeled herself for another passage to the Slants.

 

14

COLE

The banging on the front door was frantic. Cole moved the curtains aside and, when he saw who it was, yanked the door open without a second's hesitation.

“Get in here!” he whispered harshly, pulling Davis in by a trembling forearm. She winced and he pulled back—he hadn't meant to be rough with her. But if anyone had seen her, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to protect her a second time—she'd be torn to shreds. Her very act of coming to him could result in her murder.

Her temples bore beads of sweat, and she looked exhausted. Her normally porcelain complexion was almost translucent, her eyes were watering, and she had bits of leaves stuck in her hair. Still, Cole's heart lifted at the sight of her. She looked pretty even now, even in the apparent height of her despair. “You can't be here,” Cole told her after he helped her inside and she'd settled herself on the low wooden bench that bordered the dining table. Cole checked out the curtains that bordered either side of the trailer, just to make sure no one had seen her arrive. “You could get yourself killed!”

“I know,” she said, resting her head in her hands. “But I didn't know where else to go! If I go home, I'm dead. Have you seen them yet, Cole?”

“Seen what?”

“You and me. All over the tabloids.” Cole's jaw dropped. He felt his cheeks begin to flame, and fear penetrated every part of his body. Everyone knew. He'd be executed, or at the very least thrown in prison. It was only a matter of time; it had to be. He thought fast; he had to pretend to be as shocked as she was. He struggled to maintain an expression of surprise, which wasn't so difficult, given that he
was
surprised it had happened like this, so fast.

Above all, Davis couldn't know that he knew it was a setup. “Oh, God,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.” He paused, gauging her reaction. He was struggling to sound surprised, but his voice sounded false and had even shaken a little. Still, she seemed oblivious. Her eyes were trained on his. He looked for hints of suspicion but found none. “We have to get you out of here,” he told her, his voice tense. It was all his fault. He'd been responsible for dragging her into this mess—he'd get her out of it or die trying. He racked his brain for places to take her. If someone found her—if anything happened to her—he'd never forgive himself. “I have no idea who could walk through here—Hamilton's friends are always in and out—and if people recognize you like they did at the riot, I'm pretty sure they're not letting you get away this time. At least not without a million questions. Come with me.” He put a hand on her shoulder, attempting to urge her from the bench, and her back felt as brittle as a bird's under his touch.

“Can I just … can I have some water first?”

“Sure.” Cole filled a glass from his tap and handed it to Davis, waiting. She stared into its rippling surface but made no attempt to bring it to her lips. “Davis,” he said gently, “I know you're freaked out, but we have to go. I know somewhere where we can talk.” She looked up from the glass, guilt creasing her features, and all at once he understood: she was
afraid
of the water. Afraid of the Gens' filtration system, that it might not be clean, that it might give her something contagious. The irony almost made Cole laugh, but her fear was too palpable for him to make light of it.

“I think I have bottled water here somewhere,” he told her. “Here,” he said, grabbing a bottle from the minifridge in the corner. “You can take it with you.” Bottled water was expensive, but Cole's mom had been coughing so much lately that he'd used some FEUDS money to invest in a case. Davis had been right to be a little concerned—the filtration system hadn't been updated in who knew how long.

After she took a couple of sips, she looked slightly better, and some of the color began to return to her face. Cole helped her stand, and then he gave her one of his hoodies, which hung all the way down to her knees—but it was the best he could do for a disguise. They left the trailer together and made a sharp left, heading away from the center of the Slants. Cole didn't want to go too far from the riverbank—it was important that Davis be able to return home quickly—so he headed for the decrepit, abandoned carousel on the outskirts of the trailer clusters.

They were just twenty or thirty feet from the carousel when he heard voices headed in their direction. Davis's eyes, wide with panic, moved to his. He grabbed her arm and pulled her underneath a small, makeshift deck that stretched from the back of a trailer. It was really just a few boards of plywood supported by cement blocks, and they struggled to fit their bodies under it, squirming against the dirt. Cole made sure Davis was concealed first; then he wiggled in after her, pulling himself against the ground using his forearms. They lay there, their breathing louder than he'd have liked, as the footsteps drew nearer. He heard laughter; there were maybe two or three men, their voices unfamiliar.

As they lay there, Cole became aware of Davis's body pressed against his: her shoulders and hips and waist and thighs filling the negative space between them. He couldn't see her in the dark, but Cole had the sense that her face was only inches from his. That if he moved just slightly—

“I think they're gone,” she whispered, breaking the silence. Her breath was hot on his cheek, but he forced himself to move. They had to keep going. Her safety was most important right then.

“I think you're right,” he said. “Let me check first.” He scooted from under the deck and took inventory of the area before coming all the way out and motioning for her to follow. She emerged from under the building, her clothes and face covered in dirt. A smudge of dirt crossed her cheek near her mouth, and he reached out to brush it away. She took his hand as if to stop him, but then to his surprise, she held it in her own, squeezing it tight.

“Let's go,” he said. Hand in hand, they ran the rest of the way to the carousel. Priors had dumped the broken structure in the Slants years and years ago, like they did with most of their junkyard items. That's what the Slants really was to them—a place to chuck their trash, to get rid of things they didn't want to see, including the Gens themselves. But the carousel had become a staple in the community. Kids had liked to climb all over the painted animals, even though it wasn't running. Not anymore, though. Over the years, parts had rusted and metal had corroded and it was no longer very safe.

“This place used to seem amazing to me,” he told her, a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “It's funny how even the crappiest stuff can seem that way when you're a kid with an imagination. But now it's all just junk. Perfect for getting away from everything, though,” he added with a smile. He ducked into a car shaped like an elephant, and motioned for Davis to sit next to him. The stuffing on the seat was moldy and popping out, but the elephant car was dark and deep and offered the greatest shelter, in case anyone happened by. Not that anyone loved wandering by the old fairgrounds. No one liked to linger in the more dismal parts of the Slants. And everyone's parents were keeping them on lockdown these days, since the latest body dumping.

To her credit, Davis didn't look disgusted. Just terrified and exhausted. Davis's shoulder pressed against his—another benefit of the close quarters of the elephant car—and Cole tried not to focus on how the contact made him feel.

“Cole,” she started, “did you
know
people were photographing us?”

“Of course not!” He moved away, startled. “Why would I lie about that? I'd basically be throwing myself to the wolves.” He held her gaze, struggling to stay calm. If she figured out the truth, he'd lose her for sure.

She sighed, and a new torrent of tears made their way down her face. Cole reached out and carefully wiped her cheek. She responded, leaning into his touch. So she wasn't mad at him. She still wanted him as badly as he wanted her, he thought.

“I'm so scared,” she said. Her body looked slight inside the carousel car—child-sized, as if it had been designed for her. “I'm scared, but I hate this feeling. I don't want to sit here, helpless. I want to
do
something! But I can't go home. I'm so scared. Cole, my family is ruined. My father's whole career is over because of those photos. I can't face him. And what about…” She stopped, choking back a sob. “I'm worried about Narxis. I'm worried you were right.”

“Come here.” Cole placed an arm around her shoulder and drew her body toward his. She felt stiff, like her whole torso was encased in some protective shield. She slowly relaxed into him. “I wanted to tell you last night,” he continued, “but there wasn't time. Gens weren't allowed past the Slants, so I couldn't even have reached you if I'd tried.”

“What do you mean, ‘Gens weren't allowed past the Slants'?” Davis drew back, her eyes full of worry. “Why not? Because of the riots?”

“No.” Cole shook his head. “Because there was another death last night. One that couldn't … go unnoticed.”

“Who was it? A Prior?”

“They're all Priors,” Cole reminded her. “It was Marcus Eastman,” he said. Davis's body tensed.

“The swimmer? Four-time winner of the Olympiads?”

Cole met her eyes and nodded.

“But … I met Marcus once. At an athletic conference two summers ago. They brought him in to talk to us. He seemed so solid. He was invincible.”

“No one's invincible,” Cole said. “They dropped his body just past the city limits, and now we're on quarantine. I'm not even sure how you got in here.” He paused. “I'm not sure I want to know, actually. They think Gens are infecting everyone. But none of us are sick—look around. There haven't been any Gen deaths, only Priors. It's not something that's starting with us, Davis.”

“Narxis is real,” she breathed.

Cole nodded. “I think so.” He hugged her again, and this time she melted into him, but only for a second.

“There's one thing I need to know,” she said, pushing away again. “Why me, Cole? Why did you choose me? You had to have known who my father is. You knew you were ruining my life by doing this.”

“I didn't know, I swear!” Cole fought to steady his breath. At least that much was true—he hadn't known Davis was Robert Morrow's daughter. “I never would have come after you if I'd known.” That part probably wasn't true. Cole swallowed back his guilt. The truth was, he would have gone after anyone Parson told him to, no matter who it was. He'd had to, in order to get Parson on his side and secure his place in the FEUDS. It had been the only way out of the Slants and the life he'd been born into—the only way of creating a better future for the family he loved. He might have gone after anyone … but he wouldn't have fallen in love with anyone. For that, Davis was entirely responsible. It wasn't just her beauty and the attraction he felt for her. It was her way of looking at the world, her ability to see a different future, to question everything that had been fed to her all her life. It was her curiosity, and her empathy, and the way she still loved her mother so much after so many years. It was even in the way she was hard on herself, and the way she wanted to please everyone. It was the way she smiled up at him, like she trusted him more than anyone else ever had. And the way she held his hand that showed him they were in it together. It was a closeness he'd never felt with anyone else—had never even imagined feeling. And a strength he sensed in her, this indomitable force that was far more powerful than any brute strength he could show in the cages. It was a combination of all of these things that made her different from anyone he'd ever met. He wanted to treasure her, and love her, and protect her forever.

Could he tell her about Parson? Cole opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Davis looked at him expectantly. When he didn't say anything, her lips formed a grim line. He had to say something, fast. But if she knew everything … if she knew her father's rival had
paid
him to get close to her—she'd never in a million years believe his feelings for her were real. And they were. They were the strongest, most intense feelings he'd ever felt for anyone in his life. He couldn't lose her.

He swallowed. He'd made his decision.

“This is going to sound really pathetic,” he said carefully, wincing as the lies poured from his lips. “But I just … I really wanted to see what life would be like as a Prior.” He waited, seeing if she was buying it. She didn't respond, but her expression softened. “I'd never really been outside the Slants except to fight in the FEUDS. I wanted to see what it was like. Some friends of mine … we joked around that I could maybe pass for a Prior. So I tried, and it worked. And I met you. And Davis…” There he paused, swallowing the lies and hurrying ahead to the truth, wanting to feel good about himself again and to tell her how he really felt. “I connected with you the second I saw you. I wanted to know everything about you. When I saw you first, you weren't facing me—you were turned away, and even though I hadn't seen your face, I knew you were the most beautiful girl in the room. Then when you first smiled at me, and we first started to talk, it was like I could talk to you forever. That was real. Everything since then was real. You're everything to me. Every time I touched you, or kissed you, it was because nothing in the world could make me happier.” He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time since he'd begun talking. He had no idea how she'd react.