Summer Ruins (9 page)

It doesn’t make sense, but then I stop struggling forward and take a deep breath. Heat flickers in my center, but another inhale and exhale pushes it outward until my blood warms, and then my skin. Pax’s hand falls out of mine. Then I’m warm, and the air brushing my face feels like the summer at the lake that Cadi showed me.

My eyes see nothing of the sort, though.

Ice stretches as far as the eye can see. Ahead and to the right is a huge, transparent dome. It looks like a soap bubble but sturdier, the early morning sunshine glittering off the frost that coats the top and inches down the sides.

Now that Pax and I aren’t in danger of freezing to death, each encased in an invisible temperate pouch of our own, the climate doesn’t seem different when we step through a hatch and into the enclosure. I realize after a moment how much energy it takes to maintain my shield of warmth and drop it a little at a time, testing the temperature in the bubble.

Not as warm as I’d like, but not cold. Lucas’s hand slides into mine and I take a couple steps toward him so that our hips are touching.

There are rows and rows of tents that resemble the Prime family’s quarters, only smaller. They stretch from wall to wall, front to back, and stack from bottom to top. Pathways wind between them and rickety staircases like the ones Deshi collapsed in the Underground Core last spring climb toward the roof. It’s eerily quiet. There must be thousands—tens of thousands—of people housed in here, and yet I don’t hear a peep.

“Where is everyone?”

“Breakfast isn’t for another ten minutes,” Deshi explains. “The tents are designed by a species I doubt you’ve met—Antals. They trap sound as efficiently as they hold the inhabitants inside except during allowable work hours.”

Antals. I wonder where they’re from, why the Others chose to drag them along after they used up their planet. I’m almost too tired right now to care.

Deshi’s still talking. “There are four meal tents, spaced out against the outside walls. You’ll recognize them because they’re bigger than the rest of the furnicars. Plus Lucas has seen it before, he can show you around.” He stops, holding open a flap. “Here we go. This is where the Elements stay when they’re on site.”

Inside, it’s not quite as nice as I expected. There are two beds, each smaller than the ones in all of my human houses. The sheets are plain white, the blankets brown and suspiciously scratchy looking. The ground is the same transparent substance as the bubble, and white ice glows underneath it. Between the beds, at the back of the tent, is a single dresser. Deshi pulls open a drawer to reveal clean clothes.

“The cleansing rooms and wasterooms are clustered in the center of the terraform. There are four, but they only operate the hour after the workday concludes. We’ll make an exception today, since you’ve just arrived and I doubt you realize how off your conception of the day and time are. Tomorrow you’ll be expected to observe the same schedule as everyone else.” He strides back to the tent flap that leads outside.

“We’re trapped in here, then? Until when?” Pax demands, his hands clenched at his sides.

None of us fare well in captivity, not after so many years of not being able to go or do as we please. Familiar distrust blooms in my chest, crawls upward until it gets the better of me.

“Why are you even letting us stay together? Isn’t the Prime afraid we’ll cause some kind of trouble or get away or something?” I shoot at Deshi.

“As I said, you will be confined by the Harvest Site rules, and there is little free time for anyone.” Deshi smirks. “Lucas can fill you in on why extreme measures aren’t necessary, even for you.”

I glance at Lucas, who shrugs. “There’s no way out of here. Not even for us. We could make trouble using our elemental abilities, but there wouldn’t be any point. We’re here until they say we’re not.”

“I wouldn’t cause any trouble. The Prime and his Wardens may not be able to kill the three of you, but they can separate you. And they will not hesitate to take out their anger on those who are not protected by genetics.”

Silence follows his threat and jabs me with cold fear. We’ve hurt enough humans.

“Why are there only two beds, if this is where the Elements stay?” Pax asks.

It strikes me as odd, too. There are four of them, and none of them are couples, as far as I know.

“They’re not allowed to stay together, the four of them. It’s painful, but they have earned the distrust.” It’s like he’s quoting from a textbook again, and it’s almost creepy the way I can hear Zakej’s voice coming from Deshi’s mouth.

“Oh. Kind of like us,” I try.

“No. Not like us. Only three of us have earned distrust.” Deshi levels a serious gaze at me. “Brittany says hello, by the way.”

With that, he sweeps out of the tent, leaving Pax and Lucas staring at me with open mouths.

“You told him about the cabin?” Pax’s eyes are huge and filled with worry.

“It was a last-ditch effort to get him to see our side.”

“What did you tell him?” Lucas asks, sinking down onto the edge of the bed on the left.

I would love nothing more than to crawl up next to him, to rest my head on his chest and fall into a deep enough sleep to be able to believe this is all a dream. Then I get a whiff of myself—refuse, dirt, body odor—and decide bed can wait until after a shower. There’s no mirror but the job Zakej did on my lip can’t look much better than what Kendaja did to Lucas, and we both have blood on our faces and dried on our shirts.

I tug a hand through the snarls in my dark red hair, wincing as a few strands yank loose of my scalp. “I told him everything. About the cabin. About what we can really do.”

Trusting Deshi is one thing. Assuming these Antal-made tenements aren’t monitored is a different story. Neither of them says a word, all of the emotions I battled in the Underground Core marching across their faces in a line. Doubt. Possibility. Desperation.

“I don’t know if it made a difference, or if it was the right thing. But we’re alive, and Deshi didn’t tell the Prime or Zakej about… that thing we can do.”

“It’s okay. It was the right thing to do.” Lucas runs his hands through his own tangled curls, giving me a tired smile.

“Do you think that’s why he saved us down there? I mean… if he hadn’t showed up when he did, Lucas would be a goner.” Pax shudders.

The thought hurts my stomach. “I don’t want to think about it. And since the three of us are going to be cooped up here for the foreseeable future, we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Although I do think we should make sure we’re really alone before we do.”

“Good idea,” Lucas agrees, his eyes sweeping the interior of the tent.

“I’m going to the cleansing room, and then I’m going to get some sleep. Either of you want to join me?”

Pax turns a wicked grin my direction. “I’ve already seen that show once, if you’ll recall, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”

My cheeks flame and my eyes cut toward Lucas. Last season we had a few problems figuring out how the three of us could work as a team, and even though they’ve been mostly resolved, worry that he’ll overreact still tugs at me.

Lucas only shakes his head. “I do not want to know. We all need a shower.” He gets up off the bed and gives Pax an overdramatic look. “
Separate
showers. I don’t want you staring at me, either.”

Pax laughs, and so do I. Lucas grins. Warmth fills me, even in this place, at the bond that we’ve managed to forge despite the best efforts of the Others and forces outside our control.

“Meal time! Meal time! You are allotted twenty minutes to consume nourishment before leaving for the work sites!” The screeched announcement makes me ache, too loud and cold after the moment of friendship and easy laughter that just infected the tent.

Lucas slings an arm around my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my filthy temple, and the three of us step out into our new world.

Chapter 11.

There are too many people in the makeshift streets and alleys to count. They bump into one another in silence, pushing and shoving until they form loose lines and get where they need to go in a more or less orderly fashion. Most of them appear too thin, their cheeks sunken, hair dull and limp, malnourished. All of their clothing is identical and ragged: baggy brown tunics that fall to their knees, pants of the same color. Matching boots cover their feet, and coats with hoods obscure their arms and hair. It’s disconcerting, how closely I have to look to determine their ages, or even if they’re male or female.

I don’t recognize anyone, but the three of us earn more than a few second glances. Maybe because we’re not wearing the all-brown uniform, or because we’re moving against the crowds. Or it could be the crusted blood on our faces. Either way, we proved weeks ago that the enchantment the Spritans used to conceal us has long since sloughed away—we’re not invisible. Everyone else is headed to the outer edges, where Deshi said the meal tents are, while we’re moving steadily to the center, following Lucas to the cleansing area.

We’re certainly dirty enough to fit right in, and I hurry through brushing my teeth, thankful for the cups of toothbrushes on the counter, then grab a towel from a folded stack. Stepping into one of the showers feels better than just about anything. It’s not private like in a home; there are several showers in a line, each separated by flimsy curtains, but at least there are specific areas for boys and girls. There’s shampoo that doesn’t smell like jasmine, and it makes me ache for my families even though I ran out of jasmine shampoo months ago and, until our capture, had been using whatever was around. Sometimes just soap. Everything familiar suddenly seems so far away.

I shake off the melancholy and lather and rinse three times, trying to dislodge the filth and stink of the Underground Core. When it finally smells as though I’ve succeeded, I step out and wrap a towel around me. It hits me then that I should have brought clean clothes from the dresser. If my choices are to walk back to our tent in a towel or put those disgusting garments back on, I choose the towel.

I stuff my feet back into my used-to-be-white canvas tennis shoes and tug the giant black towel tighter around my chest, crossing my arms over it for good measure. Back in the main cleansing area, where sinks and toilets line the opposite walls, Pax and Lucas have had the same idea.

They’ve both wrapped black towels around their waists, bare legs starting where the fabric stops, feet tucked into their own ratty tennis shoes. My eyes studiously avoid their bare chests, getting nothing but a quick impression of stray droplets of water tangled in thin patches of chest hair—Lucas’s blond, Pax’s black—and broad shoulders.

They’re staring at me, and in spite of the towel that covers more than some nightclothes I’ve worn the past couple of weeks, I feel naked. My wet hair drips onto my shoulders and I use a little bit of power to force warmth through the surface of my skin, then grab the confidence to look them in the face.

Pax winks at me, then turns to leave, pushing aside the tent flap and stepping into the carefully controlled environment. The sight of his bare olive skin reminds me of the first time he made my heart race in the cabin, and it brings a faint smile to my face.

I step over to Lucas, allowing myself a moment to drink in the solid muscle of his chest and shoulders before raising my eyes to his handsome face. His blue eyes are serious, and the quiet desire in them curls my toes inside my sneakers. It feels weird, to have this intimate moment in full view of anyone who might stumble past, even if we are in here alone.

Lucas stares at me another moment before a smile crinkles his eyes. “I like your dress.”

“Oh yes, and your…
skirt
really shows off your legs.”

We laugh, and he slides an arm across my bare shoulders as I wind one around his damp waist. As much as we might pretend this is normal, it’s clearly not, and we walk quickly back to the tent. Part of me wants to see more of him, all of him, and offer the same in return. The rest of me fears something I don’t understand. When we do explore the feelings between us further, though, we’ll be alone. There will be plenty of time, and no chance of being spied on or interrupted.

Right now, the idea of that day is enough to make my stomach burn with need, and my fingers press into the skin at his waist. He raises his hand, tangling his fingers in my wet hair and then sliding them down the back of my neck and over my spine.

My skin goosebumps in response and my knees almost buckle, so I lean into him harder. The walk to the tent is too short, too long, and also a little bit in between.

Pax is dressed—his outfit looks exactly like everyone’s we passed outside—and is already sprawled on the bed to the right. Lucas and I pull clothes out of the dresser and he turns his back, holding Pax’s discarded towel up so I can get dressed with some sort of privacy.

I return the favor, staring the whole time at the setup of the room.

Two beds, three of us. Pax has chosen one, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ask the boys to share. Except I don’t want to be alone, and I’m tired of always putting off for an unknown tomorrow what’s perfectly within my grasp today. Earlier this spring, things were so awkward at the cabin and I went to sleep every night wishing I could curl up in Lucas’s arms and let him make me feel safe, true or not.