Earthquake (18 page)

“I know,” is all he says, as Alanna holds tightly to his arm.

“He almost let them kill me because you left him with no explanation,” I press. “Because you just took off and never looked back. If you had kept tabs on him, the Reduciates could never have done this.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Thomas says weakly. “Perhaps the greatest mistake we gods have always made is underestimating humans.”

“Thomas . . . how could you just walk away?” I know this isn’t the time, but I need to understand.

“How can you even ask?” he says, looking almost offended now. “You know how it feels.”

“No I don’t,” I reply, and I don’t dare look at Logan as I say it—don’t want to see his eyes. “I have little more than a normal human brain now. I don’t know even a
fraction
of what you take for granted.”

“Tavia, you can’t think of yourself that way. You—”

But I don’t give him a chance to finish. “Spare me your empty words, Thomas. I’m
broken
. But even broken, there is no Earthbound in the world who can truly face me. Not Daniel, not Marianna, and certainly not you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Thomas asks, his eyes wary.

Am I?
The truth is, I’m not sure exactly where all this nerve comes from. But something inside me wonders if it’s Sonya. Standing up for the chance to live that she never got. Not that I’ll ever really know her—not in this life anyway. “No. Not really. But I will protect Benson, Thomas. I will
not
underestimate him. All I’m saying is don’t underestimate
me
if you let him die.”

Thomas is still and silent for several seconds before he nods. “With my life then.”

I fix them all with a hard gaze. Even Logan. “Then we are five,” I whisper. “And when I finish this, we all get the hell out of here.”

“Tavia, wait a second,” Alanna says, stopping me. “We have something for you.” She pulls a slightly crumpled bit of paper from her pocket with two names written on it, followed by two long numbers.

“Greta Heindlund and Elysa Meyer?” I ask, the name
Greta
setting off veritable explosions of hope in my mind. Sonya thought Greta was the key. Could it be the same Greta? Surely.

“You,” Alanna confirms. “In your past lives. I may have done a bit of hacking in the process of spying, and, well, they have files on them here. And
artifacts
in the vault. The vault is so powerful but irreplaceable that Daniel has to give permission personally to let anyone in. I don’t know if you can get around that but . . .” She shrugs helplessly. “It’s
something
. Maybe—maybe after all you’ve done he’ll do you this one favor.”

But we both know how unlikely that is.

Still.

My fingers grip the paper, and I can hardly breathe. Two more lives I have a chance to get back. Clues to my past—why I am the way I am. Once more I curse the loss of Sonya’s braid in my backpack, but this is amazing. “It’s worth a try,” I say, my breath heavy. “Thank you.” I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Thank you so much.” I wipe away sudden tears of gratitude and take a ragged breath. “I have to go.” I let out a little bark of laughter. “Thank you.” And I spin and hurry down the hall.

Logan trails alongside me, and I know he has questions. There’s no avoiding them. We’ve only just turned the corner before he asks, “Did you actually run off with him?”

“People were trying to kill me, Logan,” I say irritably. “We didn’t run off, we ran
away
. There’s a difference.”

“Tavia,” he says, one hand wrapping carefully around my upper arm, pulling me back. “Please, it’s killing me inside. First you said he wasn’t your boyfriend and then that he was in love with you, but a Reduciate. And now I find out you two ran away together? What was he to you? Really. The
whole
truth.”

I stop and look at him, and I simply don’t have the emotional will to tell one more lie. My shoulders slump, and I lean back against the wall for help staying upright. “He was everything to me,” I whisper.

“And now?” He doesn’t meet my eyes anymore.

“I still don’t know,” I admit.

Logan’s hand drops from my arm, and I expect him to argue—to make a case for himself—but he looks beaten. “I wish . . . I wish—”

“Logan,” I interrupt, and finally he looks up. “Can’t we just save the world first?”

“My world’s not worth saving without you,” he replies. Then he turns and walks away.

I round the
final corner before the lab and run into something.

Some
one
.

“Sorry,” I say. “Going too fast.” But my jaw drops and I suck in a loud breath before I can stop myself. It’s the same guy I caught looking at me before. I’m sure of it. Those blond eyelashes, the rust-red hair.

I try to hide my reaction as he mumbles a similar apology, and I don’t look back as I duck into the lab.

“Daniel?” I say as I walk through the air locks. “Do you have someone watching me?”

He looks up at me, his face completely blank. “Someone watching you?” he repeats as if he’s confused by the question.

“Seriously, I need to know.”

He hesitates, then says slowly, “I don’t have anyone
specifically
watching you, but all of my staff are keeping a basic eye on you. It’s for your own protection.”

“You don’t have a guy assigned to tail me?” I press.

His eyes are instantly alert. “
Is
there someone specific following you?”

I say nothing, but I know my silence speaks volumes.

He seems nervous now—no, a cross between nervous and excited. “Could you point him out if you saw him again?”

“Probably.” Can the word “probably” really be a total lie? I slip onto my stool feeling super uncomfortable, and I have the strange feeling I’ve just given Daniel information I don’t want him to have. But I can’t see how. Everything is moving too quickly. I’ve got instructions in my pocket for what to try next with my blood, but I can’t just whip them out in front of Daniel.

What I really need is time alone in the lab.

Maybe I can get two birds with one stone. “Daniel, after we’re through tonight can I go down to the vault?”

He blinks at me like he doesn’t understand.

“I’ve remembered two of my names,” I explain. “And I heard you keep our old belongings in a vault here. If you have stuff for these two, I could get some of my memories back.” I hold my breath.

“Out of the question.”

Despite everything, I confess, I didn’t expect him to just flat-out refuse me with no explanation. “W-what?”

But there’s been no mistake. He’s shaking his head. “No. I can’t allow it.”

Fury bubbles at the top of my throat. “Why the hell not? It isn’t your life. Your things. They’re my
memories
!” I don’t realize I’m shouting until I see the techs from the other sections of the laboratory peering through the windows at me.

At us. It’s okay. The angrier I seem, the better. Though really, I’m not pretending much. If I had those artifacts—the memories—surely
everything
would make so much more sense.

“Calm down,” Daniel says, his eyes darting back and forth.

“I don’t care if they hear,” I lash out, my voice still loud.

“I
do
. I don’t want them to misunderstand me the way you obviously have.”

I cross my arms over my chest and shoot a simmering glare at him, waiting for him to explain.

“Tavia, this is monotonous work, but exceptionally
precise
work as well. Look at how weary you were all day after having a fight with Logan. When you get emotionally riled up it’s harder for you to give requisite attention to your task.” He takes a few calming breaths. “I shouldn’t have spoken quite so strongly. I’m not saying
never
; I’m saying not right now. Not
toda
y. I don’t know what happened in your lives in the past, but getting an entire lifetime of memories back is not only going to exhaust you, it’ll throw your concentration out the window. But we can’t have that because . . . because I need you, Tavia. I need you one hundred percent here for one more day.” He straightens. “And so does everyone else in the world.” He swallows hard and says, almost to himself, “We’re running out of time. I was counting on you being faster.”

His words reach my ears, and I feel like I’ve been slapped. He was counting on me being
faster
? “And so, what? You’re holding my memories like some kind of carrot on a stick? You think
that
will keep me calmer?”

My heart pounds so loudly I can hardly hear anything else. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I jerk away, too steeped in indignation.

“Tavia, as soon as we’re done, I will escort you down
personally
and help you find everything we have on your past lives. I’ll talk to our specialist, cross-reference any possibilities. I will do
whatever you want
. But I need you to be here with me, fully, until we crack this thing.”

I know it makes sense. I just watched our group almost fall apart with the revelations that Thomas is Benson’s father and that Benson and I had a relationship. Daniel’s entire argument is sound, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from being furious.

“Please, Tavia.” He gestures at my stool. “Please come back to work. Every minute—every
moment
—gets us closer.”

With my hands still shaking, I take the two steps to my stool and drop down onto it. I raise my hand to the counter, ready to accept another slide, but my hands are shaking too much. I try to keep my head clear—to remember that I figured he wouldn’t let me visit the vault. That he wouldn’t trust me to get my memories back.

That I brought it up
now
for a reason.

Finally I manage to simmer down, and I grasp for an icy calm as I set the next step of my plan in motion. “Have you eaten?” I ask quietly.

“Excuse me?” Daniel asks.

“Maybe you should go eat,” I say, keeping my voice level.

He stands, his eyes very slightly narrowed, looking at me in question. Wondering if I’m really saying what he thinks I’m saying.

I meet his eyes, for once unafraid. “I’ll calm down faster if
you’re not here
,” I explain, and hope he doesn’t see my other reason shining out of my eyes.

He looks like he wants to argue, but after a few seconds he sighs, and his entire body either slumps or relaxes—I’m not sure which. “I suppose I owe you that much,” he says quietly. “And I
should
eat anyway. I’ll be back in an hour.” He pauses just before pushing the button that will let him leave. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. But I don’t believe it. Not after what Thomas told me, not after his refusal, not after the way he accused me of not being fast enough. I have to work with him—after the disaster in the Pacific I can’t refuse. But I don’t have to like it.

I watch his back all the way through the double air locks, then I transform the thick plastic over my jeans into a long slit. If I were normal, this would put me at great risk for catching the virus, but I’m immune, so I don’t care. Putting on the hazmat suit is nothing more than a ruse to keep Daniel from knowing the truth.

Especially now.

I pull the notes Thomas drew for me out of my pocket and put them on the far side of my microscope where even the techs who sometimes peer through the single thick glass window between the labs wouldn’t be able to see them. I don’t have much time, and I can’t afford to waste a second.

I dot several slides with my blood and prep them all to save time later. As I zoom in, I look for the landmarks that Thomas drew.

He’s right, the proteins are pretty distinctive. However, there are some subtle differences in mine, and I wonder if I’m literally
seeing
the result of my immunity. And probably that unknown element that allows me to transform. To never grow weaker.

In a moment of insight I wonder if this is how we all used to be. Back when we were Earthmakers. When we were immortal. I wonder if when we were cursed, this strange chemical I’m seeing was simply taken away.

But I can’t chase that train of thought. I’ll be lucky if I can get through all of this before Daniel gets back. I follow the directions provided—isolating different strands of proteins—and begin testing them in much the same way that Daniel and I have been doing with the DNA strands. Only there are
far
fewer possibilities. Within about twenty minutes I’ve found a protein that seems to repel the virus—or at least prevent the replication within the nuclei.

I force my breathing to remain calm as I slowly test all of my samples against one another. I’m just finishing my comparisons when I hear the first air lock hiss to announce Daniel’s return. I shove Thomas’s notes into my pocket and seal up the hole in my hazmat suit.

I didn’t expect to have such positive results so quickly. I’m not sure what to do. The sad fact is, Daniel’s got the lab, and I
need
the lab to make this vaccine happen. I’m going to have to tell him something.

Won’t I?

My other option is to run off with Thomas and find another lab somewhere and do this on our own. But how many hundreds of thousands of people will die during the time that will take? Millions, if one of the victims is an Earthbound.

There’s simply no time. I’m going to have to tell Daniel part of the truth so I can keep working in his lab.

But which part?

I have ten seconds to decide if I need to destroy all my samples or not.

The million-dollar question is, does Daniel know enough science to realize what I’m doing simply by seeing the display on my microscope? Or has he only learned the barest sliver needed to do his work like I have? I close my eyes, send a plea out to the universe that he’s more on the sliver side of things, and continue to work with my blood sample.

I’m not sure what I expect Daniel to do. To say. But apparently he doesn’t know either. He just slides onto his stool in silence. He hardly even glances at my display. Maybe he just trusts me so implicitly it doesn’t matter.

Trusts my ignorance, I assume.

It’s a full fifteen minutes before he asks, “Any progress?” in a scratchy voice.

“Maybe,” I say slowly, dragging the word out. I think a half lie will keep him from questioning me too hard. Keep him working with me. Ultimately, we’re both trying to get a vaccine out of this. As long as our end-goals are the same, I’ll have to deal with not knowing his other motives.

He sit bolt upright. “What do you mean?”

“I . . . I . . .”
How to explain this?
“I kind of stumbled on a protein that I think is repelling the virus.”

I hear him suck in a quick breath and then the squeak of wheels as he draws closer. “Show me.” I start a new slide, taking the isolated protein and pairing it with the virus sample. The nucleus attempts to create new viral DNA, but when the mitochondria begin to build it into the proteins, the proteins simply resist. We watch as the tide turns slowly, very slowly, but soon the message returns to the nucleus that the foreign RNA is broken, and the cell reverts to creating its usual, uninfected DNA.

“Blessing of the gods,” Daniel says, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. “Do it again.”

For an hour we test the isolated protein on three different samples. Daniel’s right, this simple protein won’t be enough to
fight
an already infected host—it simply acts too slowly—but it will work as a vaccine for those still untouched.

“Here, here,” Daniel says, his excitement bubbling over as he removes a tray of slides from a drawer beside him. Even though I’m not sure what to think of him, I can’t help but catch his enthusiasm. We really are making progress! “These are the other samples we have of the virus. Different mutations. We have to test them all. We can’t lose our heads over this.” His words attempt to be somber, but I can hear the nerves in his voice.

It’s after midnight before we finish testing all the samples, and I can barely see straight when Daniel flips off my microscope.

“We need sleep,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “This is step one—and it’s a big step—but we still have more to do. We have to figure out which proteins in the vaccine to transform into this new one, and then we need to find out how you can replicate it and what dose we’ll need and—” He stops talking and takes a shaky breath. “But this is the first step. Probably the biggest step. It’s the breakthrough we needed,” he adds softly, and for a moment it sounds like he’s talking to someone else. “This will keep her safe until I can find her. I know it. It has to be.” Then he looks into my eyes. “You’ve done wonderfully. I knew you could do it,” he says, although in my heart of hearts, I’m not sure he did.

But I keep my doubts to myself.

I keep one crucial discovery to myself too.

When I first started testing blood in the lab, I used a tiny drop of infected blood. And even though the isolated protein can repel the virus, when it has finished its job, it leaves the tissue sample unchanged—immune to further outbreaks, but not different.

But when I tried a drop of my blood, it
changed
the sample. The strange but subtle differences between my blood proteins and Thomas’s drawing? When I put my blood into the sample, it gets that extra . . . I don’t even know what it is.

But instinctively, I know what it
must
be: the chemical that makes me a Transformist, that makes me so powerful, that makes me immune. All of them wrapped up in that tiny something I can only see on the world’s most powerful microscope.

When I use my blood, the whole sample
changes
to produce that altered substance. The sample literally becomes
just like my blood
.

Logically, even a
human
could become like me with one injection. I understand Rebecca now in a way that I never have before. This is something I can’t tell
anyone
. A secret so dangerous it can’t be set free. Not even to Logan or Benson.

If
I’m right—and if the Reduciata ever found out—they would kill the entire world just to get my blood.