David looks back and forth from my face to the
parcel that he’s drawn from his pack. His face is contorted in
misery. Either choice is devastating. I only hope that he will
choose the lives of millions over mine. Finally, David locks eyes
with me and, tears streaming down his dirty face, says, “Violet,
I’m sorry.” Relief floods my body. David is telling me goodbye. But
then he says, “I can’t.”
My heart sinks when David tosses the parcel to
Foster’s feet. I close my eyes, defeated, waiting for Foster to
draw the cold blade across my throat. Waiting to feel the hot,
sticky blood flow from my veins. But this does not happen. I open
my eyes just in time to see Foster lean down and grab the parcel.
Then, he is gone.
David drops to his knees, sobbing openly,
knowing that he has just condemned thousands to death. Knowing that
The Vox can never be beaten if they possess The Cube. I watch David
crying in the dirt and I move to comfort him. I must tell him that
all is not lost. I must tell him that we still have our piece of
The Cube. Before I move, I realize something that we did not notice
in the excitement. Behind David, beyond the village, the sky has
become dark though night has not yet fallen. The horizon is
obscured by a huge cloud of sand and dust that seems to reach to
the top of the sky, and it is approaching swiftly. Perhaps this is
why Foster allowed us to live; he knew we would not be able to
pursue him.
Nearing panic, I lunge toward David. “David,
look—come on, it’s all right.” Now does not seem the time to
explain to him what I have done. We must take cover.
Still on his knees, David hugs my body to him,
pressing his head to my stomach. I cannot understand his words, but
I’m sure he’s apologizing. Begging me to reassure him, or at least
forgive him. I drop to my knees and hold David’s face in my hands,
forcing him to meet my gaze. I must tell him the truth or he will
not care about saving himself from the storm.
Before I can get a word out, David says,
“Violet, I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t… I just wanted it all to be
over. I knew that Foster might kill us both, but… I don’t want to
be here if you’re not.”
I’m taken aback by his devotion. How can I tell
him that I deceived him when he’s just admitted that he planned to
die with me?
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind whips around us
and my face is stung by flying grains of sand. The storm is here.
There is no more time. David and I put our survival packs on to
keep them from being swept away. Then, we pull our long cloaks over
our heads and huddle against the wall where we slept. We both lie
parallel to the wall, head-to-head. I snake my hand against the
wall and he clutches mine in his.
The storm is too loud for us to talk, and though
my body is beaten by the sand and small rocks, my pack offers me
some protection. I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake,
the storm has passed. David’s hand still clutches mine, so my
movement wakes him. Some sand has been pushed up against us, but I
push it aside and stand to shake the rest of the dirt from my
clothes. We’re alive, and it seems that we have not sustained any
injuries.
David is still despondent. I am reluctant to
tell him that I still have the Cube piece. Though it will relieve
his depression in some way, he will believe that once again I had
not trusted him. I’m not sure how to tell him, so I decide to show
him.
Pulling my sleeve down over my hand again, I dig
in the bottom of my pack for the shard. Drawing it from the depths,
I drop it in the sand in front of David. He looks at it and his
eyes widen. Then he looks up at me. “What—How?”
I sit down across from him in the sand. “I hid
it in my pack… I put a rock in the parcel.” I don’t attempt to
defend myself. I’ve betrayed him again; it’s indefensible.
To my surprise, David does not react in the way
that I expected. He is crushed, there is no question, but he is not
angry. He is not accusatory.
He looks at the Cube shard on the sand in front
of him. He does not make eye contact with me when he speaks. “You
distrusted me again. I should be angry with you, but I’m not. How
can I be? You were right to distrust me. The first time the
decision was mine, I put the Cube piece in their hands.”
I replace the shard in my pack so I can sit
directly in front of David. I force him to meet my gaze. “David, I
can’t be angry with you. I would have made the same choice.”
He looks up at me. This is the first time that I
have truly affirmed my love for him. I know that what I am saying
is true, and it makes me afraid. I would have chosen him. I would
have given The Cube to Foster. How can I be the only one, as Ramla
said, if I would sacrifice everyone for David?
Suddenly, David looks alarmed. He jumps to his
feet saying, “Violet! What time is it?”
In my concern for David I had not thought about
the time. It was nightfall when the storm hit. How much time has
passed? It is well past midday.
David and I estimate that we are roughly an hour
from the drop point. We run for as long as we can, but we can’t run
the entire way. David is quick to tire. He is frustrated that his
body is failing him. We are at a jog when we get a renewed burst of
energy: the first rock formation! This means that we are at most
twenty minutes from the Traveler.
As we approach, I see the ship waiting. I turn
to David and smile with relief. I turn back to the ship just in
time to see a burst of light as it surges into the atmosphere.
* * *
No.
No, this cannot be.
I keep running. I
can’t help it. I couldn’t stop if I tried. David keeps speed with
me. Our frantic adrenaline burst keeps us going, but we know that
it is too late. They’re gone. We have failed. We will not return to
Cerno.
It takes a moment for the despair to set in, but
when it does it steals the air from my chest. Left on Earth. We
have nothing. Our water rations are almost entirely depleted and we
are not within three days of a water source. The heat will kill us
before we find it. I look at David, and neither of us has to say
it. We’re dead.
David pulls me to him and we stand, wrapped
around each other, unsure of what to do next. My face is pressed
into his chest, but my ear is exposed so I hear him when he says,
“Violet, look.”
I turn, intrigued by something odd in his voice.
Looking toward the horizon, the brightness of the sun makes the
object in the distance difficult to see. At first, it’s just a
glimmer. Maybe a shadow. But renewed hope draws us closer. First we
walk, but then we begin to run. Something stands in the place where
the Traveler deployed. As we get closer, we cannot believe our
eyes. Surely this is a mirage. Some cruel trick of the desert that
will certainly take our sanity. We say nothing until we are close
enough to touch it.
I nearly faint with happiness when I am sure
that it is real. A small ship—probably one of the escape pods—has
been left. I have no doubt that Dorian has somehow arranged this
for us, and since this ship belongs to The Vox, it will not be
questioned entering the air space on Cerno. Of course we’ll need to
abandon it quickly, but we’ve done that before.
My elation is short-lived, however, when David
says, “Violet, we don’t have the code. We can’t get in.”
Certainly this is not true… Why would Dorian
leave a method of escape to tease us? “Do you think he hid it
somewhere on the ship?”
David shakes his head. “No. Too dangerous. If he
did that, anyone who happened upon it could use it.”
He’s right. But there must be something that
we’re missing. Dorian would not have left an expensive piece of Vox
equipment here just to tease us; he expected us to know. “How would
he expect us to know a pilot’s code?”
David and I stand just out of reach of our
salvation, stumped. Then the answer hits me and I look up sharply
at David, only to see that he has just had the same revelation. He
says what I am thinking. “Because you’ve already used one.”
I nod emphatically. “The pilot’s code that we
used to escape Vox headquarters!”
David can hardly contain his excitement. “Do you
remember it?”
I think for a moment, and then smile
triumphantly. I enter the code on the keypad.
2-9-1-1-5-0
.
The door slides open. This ship, like the
in-atmosphere transport that we stole, is user-friendly. David
simply directs it to return to Cerno; we will navigate more
specifically when we enter our atmosphere.
As we leave Earth, my feelings are mixed. My
euphoria at the prospect of returning to Cerno is corrupted by my
guilt. I watch through the window as the desolate planet grows
smaller, and silently I hope that what we have done will do more
good than harm.
Our return to Cerno was eerily uneventful.
Again, I had the sense that this was perhaps a little too easy, but
then I thought about what David and I had been through in the past
week, and
easy
is certainly not a word that came to
mind.
We abandoned the ship in an undeveloped area of
Summus; Cecil was there within minutes of our landing. Apparently,
Dorian had given him some type of device that enabled him to track
the transport. The ride through Summus was somewhat tense; posters
with our faces had been plastered throughout the city.
At Tara Labs, we received a hero’s welcome; I
got the distinct feeling that Cecil and Arielle did not have high
hopes for our safe return.
Now, as we sit surrounded by our new friends,
devouring warm food as if we’ve never eaten, I allow myself to
reflect on what my life has become. In the few weeks since my
father’s death, everything has changed dramatically. Though I have
not regained the memory of my life prior to the explosion, I have
learned so much information about my parents and my past that I
don’t feel so lost anymore. I only wish that I had understood my
father’s motives. I didn’t understand his secrecy, but now I
understand his sacrifice.
Also, I’m a fugitive. So is David. That’s
certainly not to be overlooked as far as life changes go. We’ve
also been inducted as honorary revolutionaries; we’re now members
of The Third Stone. I suppose that this is where I belong now.
I don’t mean to be distant, but something is
getting in the way of my celebratory mood. I just can’t stop
thinking about everyone on Earth. We live underground, and still we
revel in countless luxuries compared to those on Earth. And soon,
the one luxury that they have—Amara—will be gone. It’s difficult
for me to celebrate my escape when I left so many behind. Perhaps
this is what my mother felt.
I excuse myself and, still carrying my survival
pack, I head down the hallway to my room. I cannot bring myself to
let it out of my sight, knowing what it contains. I stand in the
center of my chamber, thinking about what to do with it, when I
hear someone clear his throat to get my attention. I turn around.
The Scientist.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not
participating in the revelry.”
I nod. “It’s just difficult for me to celebrate,
now that I know…”
“Yes… I understand.”
There is a pause as I wait for him to bring it
up.
“We’ve been so busy celebrating the fact that
you and David survived, I haven’t had a chance to ask if you were
successful. Did you find anything?”
I nod, raising my pack. The Scientist looks a
little surprised. “You did? You found…”
I’m still nodding. “Yes… We found a shard.”
The Scientist looks into the hallway to be sure
that we are not being overheard.
“Violet, you must hide it. Immediately. I’m sure
you know that something that powerful can corrupt even those with
the best intentions.”
“Yes, I know. I just don’t know where to hide
it. I’m afraid I don’t know anywhere that I trust to be secure
enough. I don’t want anyone to stumble upon it.” I pause for a
moment, then continue. “Please, will you take it?”
The Scientist is taken aback. “Me? Violet,
I—”
“My father trusted you. I don’t really have
anything else to go on, so that’s good enough for me.”
He nods, and I hand him the entire pack. As I
said, The Scientist is my best choice. After all, if this man is
like my father, he is experienced at hiding things.
Smiling, The Scientist turns to leave. I
hesitate for a moment then quickly add, “That piece could not have
been my father’s.”
The Scientist freezes but does not turn to face
me. “How can you be certain?”
“I remember its shape from my dream. That one is
different.”
He secures the pack beneath his arm and begins
to walk away, saying, “One piece is better than none at all. For
now, I think you should rest.”
I’m too tired for conjecture, so I go to the
washroom to clean myself up. Everyone was so excited for us to
arrive that we didn’t even get a chance to change from our desert
clothes. I undress, fingering the collar of my shirt that’s caked
with dried blood from the cut that Foster gave me. I look in the
mirror, and I allow my fingers to brush the angry red gash where he
held his blade. I wash quickly. I’d like to have a nice lengthy
soak, but I’m too tired. Truly, I just want to go to sleep. In a
bed.
I return to my chamber and climb into the bed,
noting that I’m not sure if a mattress has ever been this heavenly.
Just as I am settling in to go to sleep, David slides into the bed
beside me. I turn over on my back and he lies on his side, looking
down at me. Even in the dim golden light from the bedside lamp, I
cannot help but be struck by my attraction to David. Some of his
hairs must be lighter than others, because they reflect the light
from the lamp and are tinged with the same golden color. I put my
hand up to his cheek and note the stark contrast between my creamy
fingers and his olive skin. As always, his green eyes draw me in; I
could not look away if I tried.