daynight (33 page)

Jared’s now completely sold that Ethan and I are head over heels in love. Or he has been since he taunted us for not being affectionate enough and we kissed again.

“Do you think you can sell it this time?” Ethan had whispered, although he said it in a joking, flirty fashion.

I sold it. I didn’t feel it, but I did sell it. No, that’s a complete lie. I felt it. It was impossible not to because of my convoluted feelings, the fact Ethan’s a really exceptional kisser, and that he sold it like I was the love of his life. We were in the pool. I was in my bikini, Ethan in his swimsuit. The whole thing played pretty steamy, but I figure actors and actresses have to do it all the time. Doesn’t matter, I only did it to support our bogus story. Ethan hasn’t teased me since about needing kissing lessons and he’s encouraged as much repeat behavior when Jared’s around ‘to further the cover’ as possible. Why do I get saddled with the bogus relationships? By deceit or design, they all suck.

The way Ethan looks at me sometimes has me wondering ‘if that’s the way he looks at me, how does he look at his real girlfriend? And does he melt her heart, too?’ Tristan told me he loved me. I know the look. I just don’t know how Ethan pulls it off with me when his heart lies elsewhere. The guy’s a brilliant actor, because he acts smitten even better than Tristan or Blake. How easy it would be to fall for him if he didn’t love someone else and I wasn’t so stressed about Blake. He’s just so nice to look at—and fun.

During our time off, I also spent some time researching ‘assisted pregnancies’ and believe, more than ever, that the doctors harvested my eggs. If they used Blake’s sperm to create embryos, those embryos could have been implanted as soon as five days later. Or they can be frozen and stored for later. Ethan caught me researching it and insisted I explain. He thought I was being paranoid, but I could tell that he saw there were too many similarities to be dismissed as coincidence.

If I never appreciated my circumstances before, this vacation has helped me count all the blessings I’d enjoyed before becoming a Recruit for the SCI. Daytime living. Choices. Open schedules. Capitalism. Even the loving concern of my parents beats being used by dictators. The more I contemplate going back to Thera, the more claustrophobic I feel about my freedoms being quashed. Somewhere in the back of my head I hear a voice screaming to remember what happens when I outwardly rebel, but I ignore it.

It’s during this moment of reflection, at the height of my appreciation for earthly life, that Ethan informs me our vacation is over. We’re out by the pool, I’m happily getting my vitamin D fix, drinking a diet soda, and reading a trashy novel. His timing sucks.

“I won’t go back,” I say, openly tempting Karma and not caring as I do. “My parents aren’t perfect, but they don’t threaten me with death and Exile if I don’t follow all the rules.” I slurp down the rest of my drink and return to my book.

“Kira,” he says softly. “If it was up to me, you know that I’d let you stay. But, it’s not. Bad things will happen if we don’t go back.”

“Did they tell you that my
real
boyfriend, Blake, is alive and well yet?” I ask. “Because that would be motivation for me to go back. Short of that though…” It’s one of those thoughts that I should have left in my head, because Ethan looks offended and hurt by my jab.

“Well, no,” he says, looking at his hands and nervously running his fingernails across his thumb. “They didn’t. I wish I had good news for you, but they haven’t said anything about him. I’m so sorry. That doesn’t mean he’s not fine. You can’t assume the worst.”

“Sure I can. Truth is, I can’t handle the bad news. If and when they have good news, then they can come get me,” I say, not even bothering to look up from my reading, even though I haven’t progressed more than ten pages in the last hour.

“We have to go. Our boat will be here this evening and they’ll make sure we are on it one way or another,” he says. He looks terrified. What’s he expecting? That they’ll come drag me out of my parents’ house? Let them. My parents can issue an Amber alert and perhaps the goons from the SCI will get arrested.

I finally put down my book and turn to him, speaking in a bitter tone. “Look. I know you’re probably worried about your girlfriend. But it’s not like they are going to punish you for failing to compel me to return. So, feel free to leave any time. Go Cleave Ms. Perfect and enjoy the rest of your summer internship with your daddy.” I shouldn’t bring up the girlfriend, but I think to myself, the girl should dump him anyway. Assignment or not, Ethan’s been playing my boyfriend a little too well. There’s nothing I dislike more than cheaters. I mean, sure, he’s doing it because he’s being blackmailed, but I think he could have toned down the PDA and still made his ruse about our relationship work.

“I’m not leaving without you, Kira,” he says. He’s sits up straight and grabs my hand. “They will punish me, but that’s not my concern right now. I’m concerned about how they’ll punish you.”

“What? They’ll blow up my friends? Been there. Done that,” I say. “I’m not discussing it any further. I think I’ve had enough sun. I’m going to go in to watch some bad TV or listen to some music while I eat some junk food.” He closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths.

He droops his head and shakes it vigorously. “Oh, Kira. You don’t know what you’ve done. You have no idea.”
 

Ethan’s super clingy all afternoon, almost as if he’s shielding me from the storm that he thinks is coming. He hasn’t let me do anything short of use the bathroom by myself. I had fun most the trip with him, but this afternoon—it’s gotten to the point of being stifling. He completely ruins my recorded season finales marathon with his whiny pleadings.

When the doorbell rings at dinnertime, I assume it’s the pizza guy and answer the door with enthusiasm for some grease-covered bread. Imagine that. You go on your computer, place an order, and someone brings food to you that you don’t have to prepare. Bonus.

But it’s not the pizza guy. I curse at Karma in my head when I see our visitors. It’s two men toting guns with silencers. And they have four girls in tow. The men are hooded and are wearing dark sunglasses. They herd us all towards the kitchen, where the rest the family has gathered for the expected pizza. The color drains from every face in the room. It’s clear this won’t end well. The mystery girl guests’ hoods are removed and they all seem shocked to see Ethan.

“I thought you were gone for the summer,” one of them says. She’s your typical Southern California blue-eyed blonde, with enough unnatural curve to make me wonder whether her plastic surgeon daddy helped her fill a D cup. “How? Why? And who is she? Wait, that’s the girl who you had a picture of on your phone that you refused to delete,” the girl adds, pointing at me. He kept that? Is this his girlfriend? Seriously? Yuck. I’ll add that to ‘being a Darcton,’ ‘can get clingy,’ and ‘cheats on love of life’ on his list of negatives. Bad taste in women. Really bad taste.

“That’s Ethan’s girlfriend—my daughter, Kira. He plans to marry her,” my father says. Idiot. My dad’s obviously deluded. Did Ethan give him that impression? That we’d get married? No way. He’d have no reason to set that expectation. Ethan shyly averts my gaze when I look at him.

“Your what? You are going to
marry
her?” the girl screams. The other girls look equally as disgusted. “Don’t believe him—Kirie, or whatever your name is—Ethan is seriously anti-commitment.”

“Shut up. All of you,” one of the gunmen says. “You will speak only when directed to do so.” I’m down with that. It has been quite a while since I’ve been in a room with such a low average IQ level, Tristan and Bri’s party being the last time.

“Ethan, if you feel the need, please explain your behavior to your host of girlfriends from the past year. And, of course, say your goodbyes.” Everyone looks confused. I believe the girls think the men plan to execute Ethan. But both Ethan and I know better.

“I’m really sorry, Sarah. And, Beth and Courtney and Aliya. When I… dated… each of you I had no idea that I was putting you in danger. I should have, but I was naive. If it helps, I can assure you there’s life after death in this kind of situation,” he says, fumbling over his words, shaking with anger and fear. He appears to be collecting his thoughts to say something more.

Too late. The impatient gunmen execute them—two at a time. Courtney and Aliya first, and then Beth and Sarah. Less than ten-seconds passed and four lives extinguished. They’ll likely show up on Thera somewhere and will gratefully not know Ethan or me from Adam and Eve. Ethan steps in front of me to shield my body, rigidly holding my arms, as if he’s worried that I’m next. We’re all covered with bits of brain, although it’s somehow not as messy as I’d had imagined. It occurs to me I may be in shock.

My parents don’t react well to seeing four college-age girls executed and oozing blood all over their kitchen floor. They weep. Beg. Scream. And try to run. They don’t get far, stopped in their tracks when they see guns pointed at Jared’s head.

“Ms. Donovan, I assume you have some final words for your family?” the speaking assassin says. I wriggle out of Ethan’s hold and step to the side to address the man.

“I do, but first I have a thought for you. Jared’s as much of an Original as I am. Do you really want to make the same mistake you made with Blake’s sister, Leila? Does the DNT stay active when you cross over that way?” I ask. I can tell I struck a nerve. I’m playing a hunch, guessing that someone with DNT who crossed as a Second Chancer has less appeal than those who cross over alive. Otherwise, they’d have just killed Blake and me, and spared Blake’s sister and my friends. My parents likely have DNT, but since they’re past reproducing ages, I know they have no chance of being saved. The two men whisper amongst themselves while I address my parents.
 

“I’m super sorry, Mom and Dad. I love you so much and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’m so sorry to have been so difficult after the explosion and put you through so much agony. It’s not like you’ll remember this or believe me, but I promise these gentleman will arrange for you to live the remainder of your lives on a planet named Thera. You won’t recognize Jared or me, but everything will be provided for you. It’ll be a clean slate and a chance to be happy again.”

My parents look like they want to respond. Perhaps even tell me they love me, too. But before words can leave their mouths the bullets enter their brains. Six bodies now. I crouch down on the floor and kiss each of their foreheads and then close their eyes. They’ve been so unhappy—with me and with each other. Perhaps a fresh start will be good for them. To hold it together I have to embrace one good thought. Because I know I did this. I defied a direct order to return. My own parents are dead because of me. I deserve to return to that hellacious rock.

What will they do about Jared? He is frozen. Paralyzed. Likely thinking if he moves an eyelash the men will put a bullet through his brain. Ethan steps back in front of me, holding both my hands tightly to keep me from moving. The assassins confer quietly while keeping one gun pointed at Jared, another at Ethan and me. I mouth “I’m sorry” to Jared, but he doesn’t respond. One gunman circles Jared, gun pressing into Jared’s head. Jared lets out a low groan as he awaits the bullet. The other gunman heads towards Ethan and me. Ethan turns to embrace me, pressing his body hard against me, his lips to mine, with a level of desperation that I’ve never experienced. As he does so, the gunman pries our lips apart with his gun and shoves it into my mouth. His partner has dragged Jared over and has both Ethan and Jared covered to keep Ethan in check, knowing that Ethan would make a move to protect me.

The seconds feel like hours. Ethan’s screaming “No, no, please don’t. It’s my fault. Kill me.” Jared’s still moaning. I stay perfectly still and look directly into the assassin’s sunglasses. Maybe it’s better to die and have my memories die with me. I’d either be yet another SCI Second Chancer puppet or waste away into nothingness. Although I can feel the beads of sweat drip down my face, that bothers me less than the taste of metal in my mouth and being keenly aware that the gunman’s finger is pulsing against the trigger.

The creep shoves the gun a little farther into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. He whispers into my ear, “You best not disobey orders again” before yanking the gun back out of my mouth. He then drags me by the hair over to Ethan and Jared.

The gunman kneels before me and says, “So, if you can only take one of them with you, who would you choose? Your brother or the boy toy?” He alternates pointing the gun at each of them chanting, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, shoot a traitor in the toe. If he hollers, let him go? I don’t think so, no, no, no.” I look neither to my right to Ethan or left to Jared, not trusting the gunman to honor my choice, even if I could make one. “Now don’t make me kill them both… or do you have another deal you’d like to strike with me?”

“How about we go try to make that boat? All of us,” I say. “Haven’t you hit your quota for today on ‘accidental deaths’ to provide new labor for Thera? Doesn’t the SCI only get to pull across 50,000 a year?”
 

My quip earns me a pistol whipping with such force that I end up in Ethan’s lap and his soothing voice pleads, “Don’t leave me, Kira. Please don’t leave me.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Blake

I awaken having no idea how long I’ve been out or why.
I’m flat on my stomach, with my head cradled in a large donut attached to my bed. As I attempt to get up and feel pain at the attempt, my memories of crossing the Eco barrier return. I’m attached to dozens of tubes and machines and am bandaged like a mummy.
 

“Excellent,” a voice says. I turn to see a potbellied man with a bad combover in a white coat. My doctor? I think so, but the circumstances of my rescue are still pretty fuzzy. “You’re awake. I’m going to remove your bandages and see how things are healing.” I’d respond but as I try to vocalize I feel the tube running down my throat and start to gag.

“Don’t try to take it out. Let me examine you and if I think you’re ready, then I’ll remove the tube,” he says. I nod and wait as he painstakingly removes bandages and inspects every inch of my body. After what seems like hours, he slowly slides the tube from my throat. I choke, cough and sputter before I speak.