Summer Ruins (2 page)

I’m not dead, so they didn’t poison me.

Also, there hasn’t been a power surge like I experienced last autumn after ingesting the pink drink, the one that demanded to be released before I melted from the inside out. Either my ability to control the fire inside me has grown more stable, or the laced water Deshi brought me is a lower concentration. Perhaps some combination of both.

If the pink stuff is the substance the Others are mining from Earth, Lucas, Pax, and I figure that even if it has a detrimental effect on humans, it could have a positive one on us. The Others must at least realize that possibility since they gave it to the Terminal students, so why would they give it to me now? The Prime has made it pretty clear he plans to wring my neck as soon as possible; my being dehydrated and half-dead from acid burns would make that easier. Which means he may not know Deshi gave me the substance, since it made me
stronger
.

Footsteps return before I’m hungry again, and Deshi lets himself in without me going through the whole quiet ploy to lure him closer. He tosses me a bag with a sandwich this time and swaps my empty pitcher for a fresh one. My first gulp of water tells me this offering is clean of pink dust, which vexes me.

“Thank you,” I say quietly after swallowing a bite of bread and turkey.

Deshi nods. He’s quiet for a moment but not like he’s going to leave. More like he wants to say something but can’t quite figure out what.

“Will you stay and talk to me for a while?”

His slender black eyebrows knit above the bridge of his nose. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?”

No response to that, but I can figure it out even if he can’t. They’ve been lying to him, and the Others are smart enough to realize I’ll tell a different story about what’s happening on Earth and our potential role in it. Except I can’t say that. He thinks of the Others as his family now, so insulting them will get me nowhere. I feel my forehead wrinkle in thought. If Deshi tried to tell me Pax and Lucas were liars, I’d tune him out immediately.

Instead my thoughts turn to the one thing that changed my mind about Earth more than anything else. “I have a dog. Did you know that?”

Deshi squats down until our eyes are at the same level, but he doesn’t relax enough to sit, even though I think he might want to. “I heard a rumor after what happened in Utah, but I thought Zak was messing with me.”

“Does he like to mess with you?”

Deshi shrugs. “Sometimes. Not in a mean way, more like friends. Or brothers.”

Brothers. Two boys born to the same Partners. If Deshi has brothers, they’re Lucas and Pax, not a cruel, calculating Other like Zakej. A guy who kills with a flick of his wrist if it suits his cause. I swallow the protests on the tip of my tongue and bite back the urge to extol my friends’ virtues. “Anyway, it’s true. At first I thought he was a wolf, but when Pax showed up he told me it was a dog.”

“But it looks like a wolf? Gray and big?”

“Yeah. His name is Wolf, actually.” I’m starting to regret bringing this up. Talking about my dog brings tears to my eyes. I wonder if he’s okay, if Brittany is taking care of him like she promised, if he misses me or wonders why we left him. “He saved our lives—mine and Pax’s, a couple of times. He’s sweet.”

Deshi snorts. “Sweet. Yeah, right.”

He stands up and brushes off his pants, then holds out his hands for my empty plate. I hand it over, thinking hard about the best way to breach his defenses. “I wish you could meet Wolf. He’d like you, I think.”

“Maybe I would have if Pax hadn’t left me to rot.”

It feels like all of the air sucks out of my stinking pen. The smell of last night’s urine in the corner, combined with mildew and earth, hardly registers as Deshi and I both wait for me to say something. Anything.

I have to try. “Deshi, Pax feels badly about that. He did what he thought was best, but then… things got out of hand and he traveled. But I promise, he tried—”

“Save it, Althea. You don’t need to make excuses for him. And you’re just as much to blame as he is. Zak told me you’re the reason Pax didn’t come back. Because he has some sort of weak human thing for you and follows you around like he’s attached to your ass.”

“What’s an ass?”

Deshi bursts into unexpected laughter. “It’s another word for butt. Rear end.” He slaps his own backside.

“Oh.” We stare at each other for a minute. I don’t know if the right thing is to protest or to let it go, for now. My nerves wring my stomach like a wet rag, reminding me that time is running out. “What’s the pink stuff you put in my drink? I mean, I know it’s what the Others are mining, but what’s it called? And why’d you give it to me?”

He lets his arms fall to his sides; the plate he took back from me bangs rhythmically against his knee. “You can’t tell them I gave it to you. Or that I came down here at all.”

“Why? What’s going to happen?”

There’s a long pause filled with the sound of our breathing and the thud of the plastic tray against his jeans. “Do you feel better today? How’s your leg?”

At first, the question seems so disconnected it’s hard to force my mind to catch up. Then I realize maybe his train of thought is logical after all. “Does it… is the pink stuff supposed to fix me?”

“I can’t tell you what it is, but yeah, it gives us a boost of strength and healing, if we need it.”

“You can’t tell me what it is, or you
won’t
?” It’s not really a question. The Others can’t control our ability to blab their secrets the way they can with their minions and Wardens. I want Deshi to admit he’s more like us, but instead he does the opposite.

“I won’t. Zak and his family have been there for me while you and Pax weren’t.”

“And what about Lucas? You don’t even know him but you’re condemning him, too.”

Deshi turns and leaves my cell, replacing the marble bars in his wake. “He’s one of you. That’s all I need to know.”

With renewed determination, I scuttle off the floor and over to the bars, staring for a second at Deshi’s retreating back. Finally, my hands wrapped around the cool marble, I tell him what I’ve been wanting to say. “You’re one of us, too, Deshi. A Dissident.” He pauses, and I know he’s listening. “You know it’s true. No matter what they tell you or what you’ve had to believe to survive. There’s no changing who you are.”

Deshi’s shoulders slump, uncharacteristic for his rigid posture, and he disappears into the blackness without a word.

Chapter 3.

Deshi returns the next day in a surprisingly good mood. I expect him to be angry that I confronted him, more determined to prove he’s one of them—simply an Other, not a Dissident, not Something Else—but if anything he’s more willing to chat. I wish I were the kind of girl who could simply accept my good fortune, but my life has embedded a sad overflow of suspicion into the fiber of my nature.

I take a bite of another dry turkey sandwich, wishing for mustard or even a tomato to soften the paste clinging to the back of my tongue. The water is clear again, maybe because Deshi wanted to make sure I survived the acid burn but he can’t have me strong enough to cause any kind of real trouble. Not that I would. There’s no chance I’m getting out of here on my own, and winning back Deshi’s trust is the only thing I’m focused on, the only thing that can make any kind of real difference to our situation.

We need him if we’re going to have any chance of standing against the Others, maybe figuring out how to get them off the planet and then save Earth from their environmental destruction. Our friends are out there, and in a few weeks they’ll start making their way to the cabin in Deadwood, if we don’t escape and show up before then.
They
can start working on the problem of the primordial elements.
I
need to work on Deshi.

Still, I’m suspicious of his good mood. “So, what’s going to happen when the Prime gets back from the Harvest Site?”

“He’s made no secret of his plan to kill all three of you.”

I gulp, air smashing harder than a boulder into my lungs. It’s not a surprise, but to hear my future roll off Deshi’s tongue so carelessly brings the reality home. We’re going to die soon and no one will stop it. Instead of freaking out and screaming, crying, or begging—all of the things my brain would like to do at this moment—I force myself to give Deshi a disinterested smile. “What makes you think he’s not going to kill you, too? I mean, you’re one of us, you could be just as dangerous as we are. And you’ve served your purpose in luring us here.”

The suggestion comes out of nowhere; it’s not something I’ve consciously thought until now, but it must have been brewing in the back of my mind. It’s cruel, probably, but I can’t let it bother me.

Deshi’s expression flickers between horror and anger, settling on neither as he tries for indifference instead. The perfection of the look reminds me that he grew up the same way I did, always alone and pretending to be the same as everyone else, and it lands like a hard smack across my cheek. We should be in this together, not dancing around these issues trying to make each other feel the worst about the situation. I clamp my teeth together and wait for his answer, twirling a filthy chunk of red hair between my fingers.

“They… they care about me. We’re friends. They know I’m no threat to them.”

I lean back against the cool dirt, sip some clean water, then snort. “You
are
a threat to them, Deshi. We all are. That’s why we’re here in the first place and not walking through our last year of Cell like everyone else.”

“No. They hate you and Lucas and Pax because you’ve injured Others. You killed Nat.”

That takes me by surprise, and Deshi sees it on my face before I can think to hide it.

“What? You’re going to tell me you let him live?”

“Why on earth would we kill Nat? I have nothing against him.”

“You had to have killed him. Otherwise, why hide him from us?” Deshi’s voice softens with curiosity, and for the first time he sits on the floor across from me, still out of reach, still tense, but finally engaged enough in our conversation to forget he’s not supposed to be in here at all.

Even so, his casual use of the term
us
makes me cringe. “So you couldn’t find him, obviously. Zakej is the one who almost killed him, not us.”

“But…” Deshi trails off, understanding dawning. “Because he was with you, and if we could find Nat, we’d find you three as well. And the Sidhe twins? They’re alive, too?”

“I can’t tell you anything specific. You’ll only tell the Prime and his family, and we went to a lot of trouble to make sure they’re safe. Well, as safe as possible, at any rate.”

They’re not safe. The three of them are trapped in their minds, probably dying at this very moment. We went into the hive and protected their vulnerable sinums so that the Prime can’t find them, but the long-term consequences are unclear. I’m honestly shocked Natej stayed alive all the way to the cabin, the way the Others beat him senseless after learning of his affair with Greer.

“But why?”

“Greer’s my friend.” It’s the simplest reason, but one he probably won’t understand.

Then again, he refers to Zakej as a friend. The thought wraps cold fingers around the back of my neck until freezing dread squeezes my spine.

Whether he understands or not, I’ll never know, because he doesn’t react to my confession. Deshi crosses his arms over his chest, blowing upward until his breath moves a stubborn chunk of black hair away from his eye. “Is it true about you and Pax?”

The question reminds me that Deshi is still hurting over Pax’s betrayal, over the perceived betrayal of us all—gallivanting around the Wilds having a grand time while leaving Deshi with the Others. That’s how he sees it.

He sided with the Others because he had no choice. My brain realizes the truth of this even while my heart resists sympathizing with anything about this traitor, this boy who trapped us here, who will play an integral part in our upcoming deaths. If he hadn’t made friends with Zakej and Kendaja, if he hadn’t believed what they and the Prime told him about us and about his place in this world, what would his alternative have been? Would they have killed him already?

His choice wasn’t a choice at all, but a decision born of simple survival instinct. I know this, but it doesn’t mean it sits any better. “I love Pax. I’m
in
love with Lucas.”

The sentiment is still so new to me that my cheeks heat up with the admission. When I get it under control and look up, Deshi is studying me with his eyebrows pinched above his nose.

He blows that stubborn lock of hair away again, squinting and scooting a little closer to me, though it doesn’t seem as though he’s aware he’s doing it. “What’s the difference?”

“Well. Hmm. It’s not that easy to explain.” He doesn’t respond, but stares at me intently. I owe it to him to try. We’ve been out there, learning a little bit more about our humanity and this planet every step of the way, while he’s been stuck in here, being spoon-fed lies. “Pax is my friend. I care about him, and I’d do anything to keep him safe and alive. Lucas is all of those things, but also something more. I want to be near him; he makes me happy. Like the feelings between Partners.”