Earthquake (14 page)

I need him.

Need my partner.

With our flushed skin pressed together along the length of our bodies I abandon myself and wonder how I ever could have forgotten him.

This other half of me.

“I love you,” I whisper, then smile when the words ring with truth.

“There you are,”
Daniel says after I spend ten minutes donning a hazmat suit, being doused with disinfectant, and traveling through two air-locked chambers.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sliding onto the stool I made very good friends with yesterday. I neglect to tell him the reason for my tardiness: too much time spent dawdling with Logan. Okay, kissing Logan. I’ve realized that I can’t face the virus without him.

“Don’t be.”

I dismiss his words as polite niceties until he lays a gloved hand on my arm and says, “Really, Tavia. I know you’re taking the need for a vaccine as seriously as I am, and if you feel that you need an extra hour or two of sleep, I’d rather wait than miss something because you weren’t alert enough. I trust you to be the judge of your own state,” he says, then turns serenely back to his microscope.

“I had to get breakfast,” I blurt, needing some kind of excuse that doesn’t have anything to do with sleeping. I’ve committed myself to curing the virus, but I won’t let Daniel tarnish the minutes I spent drawing strength from Logan’s arms. “Daniel?” I ask, not only to change the subject but because it’s been bothering me. “Why do they keep bothering to redecorate the atrium every day?”

In the process of grabbing some breakfast—which was the truth, or at least partially—I took a few moments to check out the new decor as I ate a warm sesame bun coated in sugar. The theme today was ancient China, and beautiful golds and reds filled the towering walls in the form of paper lanterns and dragons and butterflies. Painstakingly painted scrolls at least eight feet long hung from one wall, and enormous vases graced nearly every corner. A huge dragon’s head arched majestically over the biggest alcove.

Instead of being filled with amazement and appreciation, it all made me angry.

“It doesn’t matter what kind of fantastic world the decor of the main atrium mirrors,” I say hotly. “We still exist in the
real
world. The world where people are dying by the thousands. Why are we wasting our time and resources on
interior decorating
?”

Daniel smiles in a way that manages to be both kind and patronizing at the same time. “What do you suggest they do, Tavia? Go mop sweaty brows of doomed patients and risk catching the virus themselves? We’re all waiting for you before we can act.”

I turn my face away, hating that I should have realized that.

“And in the meantime, what does it hurt to instill a sense of normalcy and keep everyone busy? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I mumble.

We work silently for a long time before Daniel says, “I heard you went to go see your old friend last night.”

My head shoots up. “Are you watching me?” Again I wonder if I really am free here. Even if they are letting me roam about of my own volition, is it truly freedom if they also monitor my every move?

“I watch everyone, Tavia.”

“Not me,” I say without really thinking.

“Everyone,” Daniel says, and his voice is hard for several seconds before his eyebrows arch and he smiles. “Actually, if it makes you feel better, even though I
can
watch anyone, it was
him
I was keeping an eye on last night. Your Portsmouth friend.”

My heart pounds at his words. I’ve never mentioned Benson to Daniel and hoped I wouldn’t have to. I don’t know that I really thought I could keep him a secret—he’s
Daniel’s
prisoner, after all—but I did hope I could at least hide our past relationship. “You know about us?”

Daniel nods. “Since we raided the prisons you were being held in. I was glad they brought him back once I realized just who he was.”

“Who is it that you think he is?” I ask, not sure why I’m suddenly on the defensive.

Daniel hesitates, studies me. “I don’t know everything,” he says, as though not sure what he should tell me. “I do know he was your friend, that he helped you find out who you are. But I also know that he’s a Reduciate.”

“Was.”

Daniel just tilts his head. “Maybe. But I’m not willing to risk the headquarters on his word.”

“He gave you the painting.”

“Not exactly. The painting was hardly in his possession, but yes, he did bring it to our awareness.”

I’m silent for a long time. There’s something bothering me about Daniel’s story, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. “You didn’t tell me,” I finally settle on. “Even when I specifically asked where the painting came from.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary. You were with Logan. That’s what you wanted.”

“What else are you hiding from me?” I don’t bother to hide the accusation in my tone.

He stands, and the stool scoots back and almost falls. “Tavia, I put my entire organization in danger to get you here. I think that what secrets I know and don’t know should be far down your priority list.”

“What do you mean?”

He slumps onto his stool, and all the steam seems to rush out of him. “We’ve had another outpost attack, closer this time. I’m afraid I may have compromised our location by bringing you directly from the Reduciata compound to here. I was in too big a hurry.” He sighs and stares at something just over my shoulder. “I should have taken you to several decoy locations to throw them off. But I needed you and quickly.”

Guilt swirls in my stomach, but I remind myself that I did not make that choice for him. Even if it’s linked to me, it’s not my fault.

I rephrase my question. “Is there anything else you know about me that
I
ought to know?”

He smiles wearily now. “I have forgotten and remembered so many secrets in my lifetimes, I could tell them until we were both old and gray and still there would be more. And I suppose it’s possible that some of them have to do with you.” He smiles, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes that speaks of years of exhausting leadership. I think of the weighty responsibility
I
feel to prevent another disaster like the one in the South Pacific and realize that Daniel feels the same way.

But for the entire
world
.

For lifetime after lifetime after lifetime.

And he doesn’t have a partner to help him bear it.

Of course he knows secrets—knows things I don’t know, will never know. He won’t tell me everything he knows any more than I’ll tell him everything
I
know. Our secrets don’t matter, nor do our pasts.

“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, you know. About what we’re doing here,” Daniel says after about an hour of near-silent work scrutinizing strands of RNA on the electron microscope.

I stare at Daniel, completely uncomprehending. “Of course I tell him what we’re doing. I tell him everything.”

“Not Logan. Benson.”

“Benson?”

“The Reduciate boy.”

I give an annoyed sigh and turn back to my screen.

“Seriously, Tavia. I can’t tell whether he has truly changed his loyalties or not, but while he is in our cells, he’s harmless. He won’t talk to me, he won’t talk to my interrogators, but maybe—if he knows anything at all,
and he might not
—he’ll talk to you.”

I start to retort that of course he doesn’t know anything, but his final words to me echo through my mind.
You’re immune
.

For the first time I wonder just what kind of technology they have in that cell. Does Daniel already know what Benson told me? Is this some kind of a test? Or does he really think I can get Reduciate secrets out of Benson?

And can I?

“Maybe I will,” I say softly.

“Might help you sort out everything with him too,” Daniel suggests.

I nod, and in unspoken agreement we both turn to the same box of samples we were working on yesterday.

“Oh,” Daniel adds, “and probably best not to mention it to Logan.”

At least he’s
got a shirt on this time.

The security team, in their matching off-white outfits, looks at me funny, but they let me into Benson’s cell. They seem hesitant, but then I invoke Daniel’s name. It’s kind of magic around here. The two people who came to my room probably would have let me in without question, but I don’t see them here tonight.

I take just a few seconds to watch Benson unawares as they unlock the heavy door. Watching him through the glass gives me that same guilty feeling as eavesdropping, but I can’t help it. This is
him
. No masks or disguises, no lies or half truths. Not trying to impress me or give me careful smiles. Just Benson, bored to tears, in a Curatoria prison.

He turns as though he can feel my eyes on him, and I look away—even though he can’t see me.
Our
table is still there. Not that it matters, exactly. But it makes everything feel like the past. When things were still good.

I wonder why they let him keep it. He could use it for . . . I don’t know, something. But then, he’s human. I believe the words the woman used when she came to my room were “very containable.”

And what chance does a human have against a team of Earthbound security guards, really?

The woman finally gets the door unlocked, and I walk in. I want to look confident, assured.

Unaffected.

But acting isn’t one of my better skills. All I can hope is that I don’t look as terrified as I feel.

I’ve been
sent
.

And I came alone.

Truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’m not Daniel’s errand girl to be ordered out to fetch information. And after last night . . . well, let’s just say that even as the door opens I almost pivot and run back to Logan.

Maybe I should. He was wonderful last night. And he did ask nicely for me to bring him along next time. Once he got done blowing off steam.

But Daniel said . . .

I shake the doubts from my head. I’m here now—there’s really no backing out.

I stand silently as I hear the bolt click behind me. Locking me in. The lock is for Benson’s sake, not mine, but that doesn’t help mitigate the sense that I’m also a prisoner.

We stand silent, avoiding each other’s eyes for at least two minutes. The longest two minutes I’ve ever known. Finally, I raise my chin. “Let’s be clear: I believe your story, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Hello, Tave. It’s nice to see you too,” Benson grumbles, walking forward and slouching into a chair.

I run my fingers through my hair nervously.

“Wait.” Benson stands back up, and I put my hands out in front of me as he gets closer.

He stops at my gesture. “What happened to your scar?”

I should have known he would notice. “I got rid of it.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “There was no reason to keep it. It made me unhappy,” I add, parroting Logan’s words.

“Did
he
tell you you should?”

“Does it matter?”

“So you got rid of it because
he
disliked it?”

“No!” I protest, almost at a yell. “He didn’t care.”

“It’s part of who you are, Tavia. He wants you like you once were—whole and perfect—not the
real
person you are now.”

I point a finger at him, and I’m so angry it shakes. In my mind I see an image of Logan from last night, as he told me he trusts me, that he could never hate any part of me. That he believes in me.
Why am I here?
“You have no idea what he’s like,” I almost spit at Benson. He backs up several steps, looking defeated.

“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t. I’m just saying how it looks.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Great, I’m wrong,” he says, falling back into his chair.

I sit too, but I crouch on the very edge of the seat, my hands clenched together and squeezed between my thighs. “Are they treating you okay?” I ask, remembering the Reduciates’ attempt to starve and freeze me. No matter what he’s done, I still want Benson treated humanely.

“I’m in prison: I get one ten-minute shower a day, three meals, all the bottled water I care to order, and at night they give me a mattress. But you know what?” He looks up, and when our eyes meet, the blue seems to burn into me.

“What?” I whisper.

“I’d take way worse to stay away from the Reduciata.” He does this shrug thing with only one shoulder. “And be closer to you.” His voice cracks on the last word.

“Benson, I—” I put my elbows on the table and drop my forehead against my hands. “I can’t . . . you can’t . . .”

“I know. I
know
.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I tell myself that a hundred times a day. But then I see you and I—” He reaches out and grasps my hands before I can pull away. “Tave, you have to understand. I was a pawn as much as you were. And even with everything, I
chose you
. Over everything, everyone. I know that maybe it will take time, but—” He gulps, and I can only stare in horror. “Can’t you see that as soon as I
could
make the right choice, I did?”

“Benson, please. I—” I’m gripping his hands so tight my fingers are white and they ache, but somehow, he’s still clinging harder.

“I thought it would be enough just to help you—hell, to see you alive! That I could honestly just be happy for you. But I can’t. I have to at least try. I’m not sure I can last in this place without going crazy if I don’t know there’s some kind of chance. A trickle of hope. Something. Please.”

It’s a good thing there’s a table between us, because that’s all that’s keeping me from going to him, and I know I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. “Ben, I’m with Logan. You know that.”

“I know. I
know
! And who would understand that better than me?” His hands are still latched onto mine, but he leans forward now, laying his head on his arms, and I want to run my fingers through his waves. “But I didn’t know it would be so hard. When you were in here yesterday, I thought . . . I thought maybe . . .”

I start tugging at my hands now, trying to take them back, but I don’t think he notices.

“Tell me you love him.”

I stop pulling. “What?”

“Logan. Tell me you love him. That he’s everything you could ever want. That he will make you happy every day for the rest of your life, and you’re certain.”

“Certain of what?” My voice is shaking.

“That you’ll never want me again.”

My whole body stills. My throat closes in on itself, and I wonder if this is what anaphylactic shock feels like. I told Logan I loved him last night—why can’t I tell Benson?
I love Logan. Say it!

“Set me free,” Benson mumbles into his arms, not noticing my battle.

I try to speak. To say the words. But somehow it’s easier to lie to myself than to Benson.

“This halfway thing—I can’t stand it. I need you to—” He looks up right at me and his voice cuts off and I wonder what he sees. “You don’t. You . . . you’re not sure.”

I close my eyes, turn away. “Of course I’m sure. I have to go.” I walk over and knock on the door for them to let me out, but Benson is right behind me.

“Give me a chance then, Tave. I will show you. I will make sure you never doubt me again, I—”

“Shut up!” I scream, clapping my hands over my ears. “There’s not a chance, Benson. I can’t. I can’t. I—”

“You need to step away, Mr. Ryder.” The tallest security guy is there, and Benson drops his hands and backs up until he hits the wall on the opposite side of the cell.

I slip through the door in front of the guy and nearly run into Logan.

“Logan.” I know the guilt must be shining in my eyes. Practically sloughing off me in waves. “How—how long have you been here?”

“Long enough.” His jaw is tight, but his eyes never leave mine. “Alanna told me she saw you heading down this way. I just came to walk you back. In case you were upset. I was worried.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“It’s not about trust. I was
worried
.”

I duck my head and walk past him out of the security wing. I know he’ll follow, but I don’t want to have any more of this conversation in front of the security team. And I really don’t want to have it where I can see Benson out of the corner of my eye.

“I told him I was with
you
,” I say as soon as we’ve cleared the heavy doors. “You heard me!”

“I heard a lot of things,” he says, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I asked you to please not visit him without me. I thought we agreed on that, but maybe I was wrong.” He turns his back but faces me again two seconds later. “Tavia, you told me he was
no one
.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. Not actually.” But he’s right. I lied.

“He’s just in love with you.”

I have nothing to say to that.

“Are you in love with him?”

I swallow hard. “I was.”

“Are you still?”

I want to say no. Try to force my mouth to form the word. But all that comes out is “I don’t know.”

The sound of his gasp makes me jerk my head up—really look at him. Logan’s hands are buried in his hair, and he seems like he’s trying to physically hold himself together. “You don’t know.” He lets out a wry chuckle that sounds like broken glass. “After everything, you don’t know if you might be in love with someone else. How can you even—he’s a human, Tavia!”

“So?” My indignation finds its voice. “That doesn’t make him less.”

“Yes, yes it
does
! He is
so
much less than this. Than
us
! Than our eternity together. How can you not see that?”

“How about your parents?” I jab back, finally finding the courage to just say it. “Are they
less
too?” I don’t get it; I know he
can
feel deeply. The depth of the emotions he feels for me is so cavernous it’s almost frightening. But apparently none of that applies to the people who
raised him
.

“Yes!” he bursts out, as though it weren’t a shameful confession. “Everything human is less than what we have. You used to understand that. Nothing and no one in the world is more important than what we have together. And you
don’t know
?” He spits the last two words in disgust. He takes a deep breath and seems to take control of himself as he straightens. “You lied to me. You’re hiding things. The last time we were together—when we were Quinn and Rebecca—we shared everything. The only secret we had between us was your big secret. The one we
both agreed
was too dangerous for me to know.”

An entirely new kind of guilt fills my belly as I remember wondering if I wasn’t protecting him, but myself. And I feel more guilty when I don’t speak up. Even now.

“The one
you
don’t even know now,” Logan continues, not noticing anything. “And now you’re sneaking around? Lying about your past? What happened to you?”

I feel tears build up in my eyes, and I’m not sure how much is from sadness and how much from anger and hurt.

And shame.

I did lie to him. I knew I was doing it and I did it anyway. He deserved the truth.

He’s waiting for an answer. But I don’t have one. I retreat instead.

I turn and run down the hall, not looking back.

I run from Logan.

I suppose I run from Benson too.

After leaving the security hall I’m not sure where to go. All I know is I can’t face him. Can’t go back to the room we’ve shared for three days. And three nights.

Can’t go back to that replica of our perfect life as Rebecca and Quinn.

When I reach the stairs that lead down to the gold and red splendor of the main atrium, I pause before descending. For nearly ten at night the atrium is still very much alive. The huge television has extra couches in front of it, and there must be at least fifty people staring at the newest report from the Pacific. The reporter’s words reach me as I draw nearer.

“Responders on the scene of this disaster now believe the death count will exceed two million and possibly be as high as two point five. This on top of the now over a quarter of a million deaths from the still untreatable Kentucky Virus. A number that also continues to grow each day. It’s a scary time in history, Bob.”

As I walk numbly by, it’s hard not to become trapped in the hypnotic tragedy. I think of Logan’s reaction to his family’s deaths—even Benson’s story of his father—and I can’t help but wonder if these other Earthbounds truly feel the loss of human life or if their tears of sorrow and empathy are a learned reaction—what they know they’re supposed to do but not reflective of what they actually feel.

Regardless, I don’t belong here.

Once I’m in a deserted hallway where I can’t hear the sounds from the atrium anymore, I glare at a blank wall and picture a small—almost tiny—room behind a very simple door. I close my eyes, make a wish, and with the last vestiges of energy left inside my body, I push open the plain white door of my creation.

I walk into a replica of my bedroom from my parents’ house in Michigan. A plate of my mother’s homemade ravioli in cream sauce waits for me on the tiny desk I used to do my homework on. It smells just like I remember it, all garlicky and delicious. I breathe it in, savoring the memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas and casual weeknight dinners at home.

And then I close the door to the world of the Earthbound.