To Be Free (17 page)

“
Just a bit
longer and you can sleep it off,” I promise, squeezing his hand
gently. We had to leave behind the other pack, unable to take it
with us during this latest mad dash to safety, and I fear it'll
come back to bite us in the ass soon enough. “Don't worry, Seb;
I'll find us a safe place to rest.”

He's shaking his head, a sound
heavily resembling a whimper leaving his lips just before his knees
give out and he falls to the grass, slipping from my grip. I manage
to hold on, falling with him as he careens sideways, colliding into
me and no longer able to support himself. Propping him up by
gripping him around his chest, the best I can do is keep his head
on my shoulder as I mentally curse everything that's gotten us to
this point.

We're both only human; you
can't expect us to go much further, and even I'm feeling the burn
I've been ignoring these past two days, the result of using my gift
as well. I glance around as I chew my lower lip, clutching my
shaking companion to my person as I get an idea so fucking stupid
and reckless it becomes the only possible solution that'll see him
alive and well, and not at his deathbed.

There isn't a shadow of a doubt
in my mind that that's where he's heading at this rate. For
Christ's sake, eight bloody times in the last sixteen hours would
do that to anyone, and I'm honestly surprised he's lasted this
long, given the fact that his gift seems more powerful than he's
letting on.

As any person knows, with more
power comes more responsibility... and more footnotes in the
contract.

I manage to bring my half-dead
partner to a shady, well-hidden patch of grass and lie him down on
the surface, covering him with my cloak as an afterthought and
brushing his hair from his face. His eyelids flutter open as I
crouch near him, and he immediately tries to sit up, only to start
shivering uncontrollably and start heaving, even though all he
manages to throw up is stomach acid and the lingering remains of
what we ate about twenty-six hours ago. He dry-heaves for a bit,
coughing violently, and all I can do for a while is hold Seb's hair
from his face and rub soothing circles on his back.

Throughout his entire fit, he's
swearing breathlessly and taught as a bowstring.

“
I'm going to
find us a place we can breathe easy for a day or two,” I inform
him, and he whips his head in my direction, only to lose his
balance shortly thereafter and tilt to his side dangerously. I
catch him, holding him against me. Nine simply shivers in my grasp,
closing his eyes and breathing carefully, raggedly. “Stay here for
a bit, love, and don't go anywhere. Just lay low and try to catch
your breath.”

He's nodding, and manages to
hold his head enough to offer me a weary smile.

“
Why is it
that you're always the one taking care of me?” Seb asks, bemused,
and I kiss his forehead before I guide him back down onto the
grass. He doesn't offer a complaint this time, and once he's
settled again he grabs my wrist with surprising strength just as I
begin standing. When I meet his eyes, a chill races up my spine at
the unfocused, dead-man's stare. “You'd better fucking come back
alive, or I swear I'll haunt your ass and it won't be Lucifer
you'll have to fear.”

I laugh uneasily, drawing away
from his hold and standing, looking back at him once before I
cautiously walk over to the back door of the home this backyard
belongs to. The three steps I take offer no protest, their wooden
surface leading to a sun deck with a handful of chairs and a
walkway leading to the decently-sized pool dug into the ground.
Green and orange leaves float on the surface of the blue liquid,
promising the kiss of fall the wind is whispering about in hushed
tones against my skin. I reach the large glass doors and peer
through the darkened glass, noticing some movement within.

Well, I wasn't looking for a
place to break into, really. As the door swings open and the
resident – or I assume, anyways – locks gazes with me to inquire as
to why I'm standing on their back porch, I find my hands shaking at
my sides.

The young woman is easily in
her twenties, with short-cropped blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
Her smile, when she offers it to me, is curious yet friendly, and
she's wearing a simple ensemble of a short-sleeved white shirt that
hints at a bit of cleavage and a pair of ratty whitewashed jeans
that have seen better days. The cool air sweeps over me as it
escapes the confines of the home, bringing with it the smell of a
lunch in the process of being concocted further within.

“
You know,
people usually use the front door,” she remarks with a friendly
grin, and her calm nature somehow allows me to relax my tense
posture, though my hands still shake. Someone calls her name –
Melissa, I gather – and inquires about me, and she shoots a
calm
give me a minute
over her shoulder before turning her calming gaze back onto
me. “Is there something I can help you with...?”

“
Quinn,” I
supply, and she nods politely, her smile widening slightly and
revealing a set of slightly crooked teeth that add to her charm.
“Look, I really wouldn't do this if he wasn't in
really
bad shape, but my
friend's feeling horribly under the weather and we've been running
for so long without rest that I feel he's going to
die
if we
don't-”

She stops my tirade by calling
over her shoulder to the person who questioned her, slipping the
door shut as she gives me a look completely professional, without a
hint of apprehension. This woman is honestly an open book.

“
Where is
he?”

The two of us manage to get Seb
inside without waking him too much, though once we set him down in
the spare bedroom in the vast house she checks his temperature and
tells me he's running a fever. I stand in the room his prone form's
occupying, a bundle of nerves as I grip my hair and watch her
carefully coax a nearly-unresponsive Seb into taking some
medication.

His reaction
is instantaneous: he shouts, screaming a single name that has me
running to his side and holding him against me as he starts
shaking,
crying
,
about the girl who destroyed his life.

“
She's a
friend,” I whisper to him, shaking my head to Melissa and mouthing
the word
later
at
her. She nods, her bright blue eyes wide as she holds a hand to her
chest and tries to calm her racing heart. It takes a full five
minutes to calm him down, and I manage to coax the broken man into
taking the medication and lying back into the bed. Once he's got
his head on the pillow he's out like a light, lying on the most
comfortable surface he's probably been on in quite some time, I'd
wager.

I follow Melissa out and down
the winding staircase of a very modern home, the back wall made of
glass and allowing a fine view of the backyard. There's a
chandelier hanging from the ceiling over the mahogany table,
sitting near a small sitting area and the door leading to the
source of the smell – the kitchen.

“
You...
you're aware of what we are, right?” I question as I follow the
woman into the kitchen, where a red-haired woman around the same
age as Melissa stands by the oven, stirring the contents held
within the pot. With a small nod the woman invites me to sit on the
bar stool of the island counter, fetching me a glass of water. I
take the glass gratefully, drinking my fill before I cradle it
between my hands and look around while she formulates her
reply.

The kitchen is just as modern,
that being the norm of the cities the New Order has confined
Americans to. The cupboards are white and the fridge is stainless
steel, a breakfast table sitting by the dark-shuttered windows to
the back of the room.

“
You two are
Runners,” Melissa states bluntly, offering me the name of the other
woman: Janice. The redhead offers me a kind smile before turning
her green eyes to her concoction, stirring in a few more spices
while holding her red curls out of her face. “Your friend is in bad
shape, Quinn, and we've had more than our fair share of your kin
through here. The road from here on in is tough, and the security
gets even tighter the closer you get to the border.”

Saying this, she pulls out an
extra pair of plates and sets them over the first two square pieces
sitting on the counter, reaching for a package of spaghetti noodles
from the glass jar sitting on the ceramic counter and spilling them
into the pot of boiling water. Then she leans against the counter,
watching me.

“
Besides,
only a true monster would turn you away when you so needed help.
You've told me of your ordeals thus far, and getting through to
Canada won't be easy for you two, seeing as how the N.O. has a keen
interest in Sebastian,” she sighs, shrugging a shoulder. “Having
said that, we're well-equipped to see your friend recuperate and
help you on your way.”

“
I... I thank
you, both of you, for helping him,” I reply quietly, looking to the
half-empty glass in my hands and swirling the liquid idly. “I'm
sorry, I just... why would you risk your lives to help
any
Runner? It's capital
punishment for those who aid us.”

They exchange a glance, and
Janice nods quietly at her companion, turning back to stir the
sauce without another word. She hasn't said anything since I've
come in.

“
The N.O.
isn't as active here, which is why quite a few people are secretly
in same-sex relations, especially in this town. Higher up in the
state, you can't even breathe without getting searched,” she
informs me, rolling her eyes. “Janice and I have been secretly
partnered for... eight years, was it?”

She looks over her shoulder for
confirmation, and the redhead smiles.

“
More often
than not, you'll find someone in Ashland who's either had relations
of this kind or is currently
in
a relationship with a partner of the same sex,”
she states, her voice a tad quieter than Melissa's. “What's your
story with the man? Are you two lovers?”

I splutter, having been in the
middle of taking a drink of water, and cough a bit to try and clear
up my windpipe. The redhead arches a bemused eyebrow at me and the
blonde simply laughs lightly, and they both wait for me to calm
down enough to answer.

“
Actually,
no,” I deny. They don't seem to believe me too much. “Well, at
least, I'm not sure
what
we are, but we definitely haven't done anything
of that sort. We broke out of the facility together and stuck
around for survival purposes, mostly, but things happened and...
yeah.”

I shrug a shoulder after
finishing off my sentence in the lamest fashion you could possibly
imagine, radiating awkward, and the women offer me mercy. Instead,
the blonde asks a different question.

“
What
happened to him?”

This time I sigh, pressing a
hand to my face and shielding my eyes with the appendage as the
memories of the last two days assaults me, making me curl slightly
into myself in my seat. The guilt builds up in my throat, bringing
the worst taste to my mouth and warning me that I'm a moment away
from spewing.

Bolting out of my seat I make
it to the sink before I disgorge the lingering remnants in my
stomach, the acid burning up my throat and my nose, making me cough
painfully in the middle of heaving. The images are garish, painted
across my eyelids for the rest of eternity, and force my stomach to
roll once more and my body to try and purge the memories from my
mind through the contents of my long-ago meal.

I'm shaking almost
uncontrollably, the water running beside me and trickling down the
side of my face, but I find I care very little about that fact. The
dark, wet strands cling to my face and trail slightly in the mess
on the stainless steel, and Melissa kindly does her best to hold
the rest from following suit. My throat is burning and the taste in
my mouth is enough to force one final, half-assed heave before I
slump forward slightly, spent.

“
He deserves
so much better than me,” I whisper, a trail of bile trickling from
my mouth as I speak, and I don't do anything to force it from my
being. I also write off the liquid trailing over my cheeks as the
water pouring over my forehead. “We really
are
monsters.”

For a while I stand there,
hunched over their kitchen sink, but neither woman complains.
Janice turns off the stove and Melissa offers me quiet reassurance,
and after a few more minutes I manage to cup water into my hands
and rinse out my mouth, taking the towel offered to me to dry my
face and fringe.

When I sit back on the stool
Janice strains the water from the pot of noodles, mixing sauce and
pasta before serving three plates and bringing them to the
breakfast table, asking me to join them. The meal is warm and fills
me in a way I haven't been in what seems like ages, and during the
course of the meal they elude to the topic that forced a physical
reaction out of me, instead describing their lives and how they
met, how they keep the charade up. The people they've helped over
the years, as well, and their stories.

Finally, after the refreshing
meal Melissa leads me to the second washroom upstairs that's
connected to Seb's room, informing me that she'll return shortly
with a set of clothes for me and Seb and telling me to go ahead and
relax for a while in the tub. As I draw the water and wait for it
to fill the claw-footed ceramic basin, she returns with a set of
blessedly normal clothes, and a fresh suit looking quite different
from the one on my back. She tells me where the towels and takes
out the odds and ends I'll need, leaving me in peace with a parting
smile.