Duality (The Hitchhiker Strain) (22 page)

Chapter 27 – Chelsea

I wake up late the next day and Zack is still on my mind. I'd been half hoping he'd stop by before going to bed so I could see how he was, but I can understand why he might have wanted to be alone. After he left with Savannah, Liam told me that one of their other friends had been killed the day before in a massive attack. I can't imagine that Zack's okay right now. All I want is to see him and to find out if there’s anything I can do to help. He’s done so much for me, I’d like to at least try and return the favor if I can.

As I pull another new shirt on over my head and shimmy into a pair of jeans, I try to figure out what I can possibly say when I see him. Maybe if I'd been human these past several months, I might have more experience in how to deal
with all this death. As it stands, I feel completely useless—like anything I say will make things worse. Maybe I can convince Gregor to help me track down...something, I have no idea what. Something I can give to Zack that says ‘I'm here for you.’ I guess they don't exactly have a gift shop here.

I knock on the door a few times, the usual code for 'hey, let me out,' but when I turn the doorknob, I find it has already been unlocked. And the man on the other side isn't who I was expecting.

"Gregor took the morning off," Zack says and offers me a lopsided smile. "With everything that has been going on, I'm not sure they're that worried about making sure you don't go on a rampage while we're not looking."

"Zack!" I fling myself across the hallway, wrapping my ar
ms around him. It feels awkward and silly even to me but I’m so relieved to see him.

"Good morning to you too."

When I pull back from the hug, Zack looks bewildered, like my touching him has his whole body on edge.
Note to self: don't throw yourself at people if you’re not looking to freak them out.
I guess social skills like this one are a muscle like anything else and I’m horribly out of shape.

"Sorry," I murmur, stepping back.

"Nothing to be sorry for. I didn't get much sleep last night and I'm feeling kind of foggy." Dark circles sit under his eyes. I’d believe he didn’t get any sleep at all.

"Sorry about your friend!" I blurt out completely unceremoniously. I grimace as soon as the words leave my mouth. A shadow of sadness passes over his features, and
I wish I had something more to offer him than a weak apology.

"Thanks," he says, forcing a smile. "It sucks." He wrings his hands in front of him

"Yeah." I wish I had something better to say, something to tell him how badly I hurt for him. He looks like he wants to say more, but we both stay quiet until the silence starts to build a wall between us. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all."

"I don't think so. There's not really anything that anyone can do, right? That
’s the whole useless point of all this. Nothing anyone can do. He’s dead. Fourteen and snuffed out like he was never here at all.”

"Do you want to tell me about him?" I don
’t know what makes me think of it. Maybe it’s because I felt a little better after talking about what happened with the little girl back at the refugee camp. Maybe because I wish someone here would be brave enough to ask me about the people I’ve killed so that I can share what I remember and they’ll live on in more than my memory. Either way, it seems to work. Zack nods, looking shy for the first time since I met him.

The two of us go back into my room, and I shut the door behind me. We sit on my bed, knee to knee, and Zack tells me all about Pierce
—the funny British kid who read too much and who was supposed to grow up to lead people back toward something positive. Through the whole thing, Zack sounds both sad and lonely, but his body is practically humming with energy. His knees bounce up and down on my comforter and his hands don’t stop moving once.

I suppose all of this
should make me sad too. Here’s this guy who was important to Zack, maybe important to the world, and I’ll never meet him. Instead, anger begins to grow hot in my heart and in my head. It strikes me then how futile all of this is. This teenager, a kid really, died within a dozen miles of both a powerful militia and a scientific organization that holds the cure to the illness that's ailing the entire planet. If everyone were more willing to help each other out, would this ever have happened? It’s ridiculous. The world can’t continue this way or we’re all screwed.

"I can't live like this," I say so quietly that I'm not sure he hears me. His mouth snaps shut mid-sentence.

Zack leans in slightly and his eyes search mine. When I don't move away, he moves the rest of the way in and rests his forehead against mine. "I know it's hard now, but it will all be okay. I promise. From here on out, things are going to get so much better. We have to be patient."

Even I can tell he doesn
’t believe a word he’s saying. My guess is that these are all the platitudes he’s been hearing since the world first started to crumble. It’s all meaningless, pointless drivel and it doesn’t help anyone.

I know I'm the one who is supposed to be comforting him, but his words ma
ke me feel that much more hopeless. I lean into him a little more and sigh. I know he's trying to make all of this easier and maybe even justify the death of his friend...but it's not helping. It's the most intimate moment I've shared with another person in maybe a year, and I can't even concentrate on it.

"Maybe for us. Maybe for everyone who's protected from the horrible things that are going on out there. That still leaves a lot of other people, and that's not good enough for me. It shouldn't be good en
ough for anyone."

"You sound like Savannah."

"You don't agree?"

"I guess I do. I don't know. It's not one thing or the other, I don't think. We have to find a balance in order to function long term, and I think the people here know what they're doing. It's
worth the wait."

"I won't accept that. We could be helping people right now." I won't add Pierce's name to the conversation, but how can he not see it? How can he not see how avoidable his friend
’s death was?

"We can't even help the people we already have
here with us," Zack argues, keeping his voice soft. "They're cured, but they aren't...better. Not like you."

"Me. Maybe that other guy from yesterday. Maybe others. And even if they aren't themselves again yet, it's still beats the alternative. If it were
you, don't you think you'd be grateful for every single day where you don't hurt someone else?" Zack doesn't have an answer for that, but he removes his head from mine and looks into my eyes. I feel like he's looking right through me. "Eighty-one people," I whisper, leaning back and away from him on the bed. "I killed eighty-one people while I was infected. If I could take back even one of those days..." I swallow, guilt weighing down every one of my words. "I'd give absolutely everything."

Zack starts to
speak, but I cut him off. "And what about the people out there who are getting infected today, tomorrow? If their loved ones even knew that bringing them back was a possibility, don't you think they'd do whatever was necessary to keep them alive, rather than delivering a quick death out of mercy?" It's horrible to think about, but someone has to.

Instead of offering up a comeback like I'm expecting, Zack looks thoughtful. "I really hadn't thought of it like that."

"Like what?"

"About the aftermath. How peop
le will react knowing that they could have done things differently. Obviously people like...well, people like you will have to carry this with them for the rest of their lives, but it's not only them. I can't imagine the guilt someone would feel knowing that the girlfriend or mother or child they killed in order to spare them pain could have been saved."

"And it's not just those things either. Yes, I may never go a day without remembering one of the people I killed. And maybe the patients you all have locke
d up downstairs can't come back to themselves because they can't live with what they've done... But what about those eighty-one people? They don't get the option to live with all of this. They're gone. And every minute we wait, someone else meets the same fate." Now I'm struggling to keep my voice calm and even. I'm so sick of all this death. "It feels like we're helping to kill more people by our inaction! Shouldn't we at least give everyone who has managed to survive this long all of the facts so they can make the best decisions they can for their loved ones? Shouldn't we be actively trying to save the fraction of humanity that's still left rather than hiding from it and hoping there's still something worth saving by the time we get around to it?"

"You're
right." Zack jumps up from the bed in one smooth movement. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?" I blink a few times, trying to figure out what caused his change in attitude. "I am! But I mean... You think so?"

Even though shadows still sit under his eyes, the sadness in his face from a few minutes ago has been replaced with something I don't recognize. Suddenly he looks like a man on a mission. I suspect he's trying to deflect his feelings about Pierce onto something else, but since I have no idea what it is he's thinking, I can't even guess at how I'm supposed to handle this.

"I do. And if I had to guess, I'd say a lot of other people here would agree with you too."

"That, I find hard to believe. Everyone here seems pretty rigid in their game plan."

"All righ
t, maybe not a lot of people. But people. Good people with access to..." he trails off.

I bite my lip, completely at a loss. Zack seems practically manic, not at all like himself. But he's excited, and that has to be better than retreating into his grief,
I think. I hope.

"I have an idea. I just need to..." Finishing a complete thought might be helpful, but I don't say a word. "I need to talk to someone."

"Where are we going?"

Zack pauses. "Actually, it might be better if you stay here. Or…
do you have somewhere you're supposed to be today?"

I glance at the clock on my wall. "Yeah, I'm already kind of late for my latest round of blood tests."

"Okay." He grins mischievously. "Go do that! By the time you're done, I think I'll have something."

"Something..."

"Yeah, I'm not really sure what, but I know exactly who to talk to." Zack leans over and takes my hand, pulling me up from the bed to stand beside him. "You do your thing, I'll do mine. We'll meet up again in an hour. Maybe two. Sound good?"

"Sure," I say
because there's nothing else to say.

"Perfect." Zack steps backward and bumps into the door behind him. With one last smile, he turns to go, opening the door in one big dramatic movement. "By the way," he says, turning back to face me. "I think you're incr
edible. Really, completely amazing. And strong, and funny, and... Well yeah."

He doesn't wait for me to respond before he takes off down the hallway like the hounds of hell are chasing him. He thinks I'm amazing. I step into the hallway and stare after him
like an idiot until my cheeks hurt from the strain of my smile.

Chapter 28 – Savannah

When I left my room this morning there was a note taped to the front of my door with my name scrawled on the front in Cole
’s sloppy handwriting. It wasn’t flowers or a tearfully romantic reunion, but at least he’s noticed that I’m back.

Sorry I missed you last night. I passed out early because my dad needed me up at five this morning to monitor the medical wing footage. It's a long story, but a lot has happened while yo
u were gone. Lots of good news over here. And by the sounds of it, you had an eventful week too. If you can, meet me at my place around 10:30 and we can grab a late breakfast and catch up. See you soon! - Cole

But between checking up on everyone from New R
avencrest, finding them clean clothing to change into, arranging time in the showers for everyone, and answering endless questions from pretty much everyone I came in contact with, I'm running a little behind.

It is quarter past eleven by the time I knock
on the door of the small apartment Cole shares with his father. Three knocks then two. I stand back to wait, hoping he’s still inside. When no one answers, I suspect I already missed him. I try again, giving it another two minutes in case he fell asleep on the couch or something. Nothing. We’ve missed each other again and I can’t help but see it as an omen.

Sighing in defeat, I give up. For now. If I don
’t run into him by lunch time, I’ll hunt him down.

I don't know if it's deliberate or a happy coincidence
, but no one has bothered to assign me any work since I've been back. It's probably because I'm technically playing hostess to the patients from New Ravencrest and am essentially the only person responsible to make sure they’re comfortable. Still, it feels weird not having anywhere specific I have to be or any tedious projects on the go.

Zack finds me on my way to the atrium, almost bowling me over in his hurry and enthusiasm. He looks more than a little rough and disheveled with a wild look in his eyes. "S
avvy, I need to talk to you."

"Sure. What's up?"

Zack's eyes dart around the somewhat busy hallway. "No, not here. Somewhere private." He grabs me by the wrist to start pulling me down a hallway in the opposite direction of the atrium.

"What's this about?
Did you talk to Chelsea?" My mind scrambles to put together an explanation for his behavior. Last night, before he knew about Pierce, I felt like I was finally seeing my Zack again. This guy in front of me is someone different entirely, and I'm guessing he's fueled by grief.

"Yes," Zack answers without explaining as we dart down yet another hallway. Either Zack knows the winding corridors of the Initiative a lot better than I do or we're about to be very lost.

At last, we stop moving. I have no idea where we are. As though he knows exactly what he's doing, Zack opens the door in front of us, leading me into a small, dusty kitchen equipped with a sink, a coffee machine, and a microwave. As soon as were inside, Zack starts to pace the length of the room.

“
What happened? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“
Nothing’s wrong. Or everything is wrong, depending on how you look at it.” I purse my lips, at a loss for what to say. “You’ve had the right attitude this whole time.”

“
Well I like the attitude. Where’s this coming from? Did you get any sleep?”

“
Enough.” He finally stops moving and looks right at me. “I was actually okay this morning, and then I talked to Chelsea and she got me thinking about all of this. Do you think Pierce’s death could have been avoided if the Militia and the Initiative and, well, everyone hadn’t been so ‘us against the world’?”

That seems like a leap of logic even to me. He
’s hurting, not thinking clearly, and I can’t make it better for him. This is probably the part where I’m supposed to do the whole pat him on the knee and say it’s all going to be okay thing, to try and get his mind off of whatever track it’s going down. But I’m not about to patronize him, he’s my best friend and he deserves better than that.

“
Probably not. It was a Z attack, not even a second generation Z. These things happen…” I almost add that wasn’t anyone’s fault but I’m not sure if I believe that yet. If I had been there a little sooner, maybe things would have been different. That’s not what Zack needs to hear right now.

Zack
’s shoulders slump. “What if we’d all been more open to sharing our resources and protecting other survivors? What if we’d been sharing information and resources rather than hoarding things for ourselves?”

“
Maybe, but that’s how things are right now.” I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth. He’s right to be angry. I just need him to calm down. “Everyone is doing the best they can to survive and taking care of their own.”

“
That’s kind of my point.” I’m not sure he even knows what his point is. I do my best to listen patiently and let him get all of this off his chest. “Everyone wants to take care of
their
people, and anyone who has survived this long has something working in their favor—weapons, food, technology, whatever. We need to force people to start combining their resources. Make things better! For Pierce.”

“
What exactly did you have in mind?”

"I don
’t know. We could take all of the files from the medical center and have Alex take them...I don't know, somewhere. Or we could sneak Chelsea out somehow, find another group like this one. There has to be someone somewhere, right? Maybe they could figure out the cure from her blood or something, start making it on the other side of the country as well. We could even drive around the country, telling people that a cure is coming, telling them to do whatever they can to keep their loved ones alive if they get infected. Buy everyone a little more time somehow."

Zack rambles on, explaining how if we talked to the Militia, maybe they could help us rou
nd up all of the second generation Zs and lock them up somehow, like they did in the test facility where we found him. With every breath, he has a new idea about how we can go out and do something. He must use the phrase ‘make a difference’ at least seven times. He sounds like me with my usual rants about changing things and doing more—except on an unhealthy mixture of caffeine and Adderall.

I'm half ready to try and talk him down from all of this and force him to get some sleep. And then he's back to the M
ilitia and how they might have some way to broadcast to other parts of the state and beyond. That's when I know he's serious. Zack hates the Militia. Any time they come up in conversation, a dark look will pass over his features and he'll stalk away. And now he's actually suggesting we ask them for help. It's not something he'd ever suggest if he didn't mean it with every fiber of his being. Maybe I should be taking this more seriously.

If we could come up with a plan
—something more concrete than what Zack is currently spewing—and let Pierce’s death be the catalyst for real change… Well, that could be something.

I reach over, putting my hand on Zack
’s arm. At once, he stops talking.

“
You’re right.” I give his arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re one hundred percent right. A little on the crazy side right now, sure. But I still think you’re onto something. I’ll need some time to think about it.”

“
Time! Haven’t we wasted enough of that already?”

“
I don’t mean days or weeks. I mean a few hours. Go grab some food… Or maybe a nap, and I’ll talk to some people. You’re on the right track. Now we have to figure out a game plan that will actually work. We’re not going to rush into anything. Not this time.” And we’re not. For all of Zack’s talk of stealing all of the Initiative’s files or driving around randomly, I know those aren’t the right answer. We need a way to help people without putting anyone at risk or hurting what the Initiative is trying to do.

Zack nods. "Whatever you need," he offers. "Chelsea and I have your back
. Between the three of us and Cole, maybe Alex, we can come up with something great. I know it!"

At the mention of Cole's name, my enthusiasm sinks a little. No matter what we decide to do, even if we go out of our way to make sure we don
’t hurt their research in any way, we'll be betraying the Initiative and his father. Asking for his help in any of this would be putting him in an impossible position. But for every idea I can come up with...we need Cole. There's no choice.

I find him in his father's office with three laptops spread out in front of him. Every few seconds, his gaze shifts from one to the next. Whatever he's doing, he's so engrossed in it that he doesn't notice when I walk in. His black hair is splayed across his forehead, reaching a little past his eyebrows. He needs a haircut, which makes me a little sad.

It took me nearly an hour of pacing around the hallways, but I think I know what it is I'm going to suggest. And if it works, it means I won't be here to cut Cole's hair this time.

"Hey, stranger," I say gently, knocking my knuckles against the doorframe for effect. "Do you have a minute?"

Cole looks up from whatever it is he's watching and smiles. "Hey, you! Welcome home." Cole pushes back from the desk and stands up to greet me.

Before I can even take a few steps into the spacious office, he's wrapping his arms around me. I want to hold him there, but before I can stop myself, my face tilts up to meet his and we melt into a kiss—warm and familiar. I let myself disappear into it for a minute until he pulls away.

“
Sorry I didn’t come see you last night.” I apologize as we break apart. “There was a lot going on.”

“
I was already asleep by nine or something ridiculous like that.”

Cole moves to go sit back at his desk and I follow, taking the sea
t across from him. “What are you working on?”

Cole smiles and I can
’t help but smile back. “I’m not sure where to start. Did you hear about Chelsea?”

“
I met her actually. Wow, right?”

“
Big wow. Well, she may end up being even more of a game changer than we thought. From what I’ve heard, she’s a lot like you actually. She really wanted to help, so someone let her look over footage of the other Zs we’ve treated.”

Someone like that could be
good for Zack. I smirk to myself, convinced that the two of them are perfect for each other.

“
Well with a few
hours
she might have found another one like her, someone we missed completely because he wasn’t talking and interacting like she did. Maybe. We’re not sure yet.” Even without confirmation, Cole is practically bursting with excitement at the possibilities. “So I’m going through more of our old footage, looking for more that we might have missed.”

“
Then what happens?” I might have stumbled into the perfect opening for what I want to talk to him about.

“
That’s up to my dad. I guess we’d go back and focus on those patients, try to figure out what’s different about them. We’d go about rehabilitating them differently to try to bring them back around. Maybe it’s more of a PTSD thing for some of them than not remembering how to behave like a human. I think Chelsea might be a huge help with all of this.”

“
So then what happens?”

Cole looks up from his computer screen again and I can tell that he knows that he
’s walked into a familiar argument.

“
I don’t know, Savannah. More tests. Another version of Veritas. Better therapy for the infected. This is a
good
thing.”

“
Well what if I had a plan?”

“
A plan? Like a ‘let’s go talk to your dad and share my idea’ kind of plan?”

“
Not so much. But it’s a really good plan.”

Cole rolls his eyes dramatically like he
’s not surprised at all. “Honestly, I’d say I’m surprised it’s taken you this long.”

“
It would be stealing,” I remind Cole for what has to be the tenth time. He has been an even bigger asset than I’d been giving him credit for, I just can’t quite believe that he’s willing to sign on at all.

“
Oh well in that case, let’s call the whole thing off.”

“
Ha. Ha. You’re sure about this?”

“
Savannah, I’ve spent the last hour”—he looks down at the computer screen in front of him—“and a half helping you figure out how this is going to work. I’m sure.” It’s barely midday and he looks as exhausted as I feel.

This is really going to happen. In a matter of hours, I went from exhauste
d and grieving to formulating the type of action plan I’ve been dreaming about for months. Sure, I’m still exhausted and grieving, but for the first time in days, I’m also optimistic.

But there
’s still one more elephant in the room and it’s one that Cole might not even realize is here. If I’m going to do this—and I am—I’m going to give it everything I have. No half measures, no spending time worrying about what other people would think of my decisions, no second-guessing myself. All of my energy needs to go into ensuring that this is done right.