Authors: Josin L. McQuein
Honoria’s walkie cuts me off, crackling into a transmission so garbled that nothing coherent comes through.
“Sykes?” she barks, shushing us with a wave of her hand.
“We’ve got a situation,” Lt. Sykes says.
“It’s handled. Tobin and the girl are here.”
“No. Tess Blaylock’s boy—”
A horrible sound overruns his voice, made worse by the static. It sounds like a wild animal howling in pain.
Then dozens of voices scream.
“Stop him! Bar the door!” Lt. Sykes shouts.
The shouts give way to gunfire and then more screams.
“Blaylock?” I whisper to Tobin. “Isn’t that—”
“Dante.”
Somehow, we’re back on our feet. Everyone’s moved closer to Honoria, watching her radio like it’s a vid-screen.
“Get them out of here!” Lt. Sykes orders. “Everyone stay clear—Silver, don’t. Don’t touch him, sweetheart. Please don’t touch him.”
“What’s happening?” Anne-Marie’s mother asks.
Honoria’s paralyzed, unable to answer. Mr. Pace takes over on the radio.
“Tell me this is not what it sounds like, Kevin.”
“Get down here now—Silver, don’t! Get her away from him. Hold her on the other side of the room.”
Silver doesn’t go quietly. The sound of her struggle comes through loud and clear.
“I need a containment team,” Lt. Sykes says, breathing heavy. “He’s turning, Elias. The boy’s gone Fade.”
T
HEY
should have cleared the bunker and locked Dante in it. He’s raving, fighting Dad and Sykes with all he’s got. Trey didn’t do anything like this.
I wonder if I will.
“Dante, stop!” Silver shouts over him. “They’re trying to help you!”
He’s been shot. There’s blood on his leg, but none running. His body’s healing faster than Marina’s.
The boy’s gone Fade.
He still looks human.
I had micro-bits of the shadow crawler in my veins and never changed, either. This could be me.
What if Dr. Wolff’s wrong and the ones in my blood aren’t dead but asleep? What if they’re getting ready to wake up?
“It’s not the same,” Marina says out of nowhere. “Dante’s not like you and Trey.”
Sometimes I swear she’s reading my mind. The only question is whether or not she’s doing it on purpose.
Mr. Pace moves to help while Dr. Wolff attempts to find an opening wide enough to fit a tranq so he can sedate Dante. Nique hauls Silver away from the scuffle.
“Should we help?” Marina asks.
I should. I’m security, but my feet won’t move. Our elders put Dante on the floor, facedown.
“How can this happen?” Marina asks.
“Ask the nightmares,” I tell her.
“His are not ours,” Rueful says, and she can’t back him up fast enough.
“They didn’t do this,” she swears.
How can she be that naive? “He doesn’t have a cold, Marina. There aren’t a lot of options for carriers!”
Am I a carrier? Is that what nanites in my blood mean? I can poison others but stay safe myself?
Honoria’s pressing Dante’s shoulders down with her knee, trying to hold him still, but every time Dr. Wolff gets close enough to tranq him, Dante bucks up off the floor and the doc loses his shot. A wild swing sends Sykes flying.
“Maybe he asked to change,” Marina suggests. “He could have been willing.”
“Does this
look
like something he’d ask for to you?” I say.
Dante’s been watching the Dark almost since the Arc fell, but no one would want this.
“Cherish says Dante touched the Darkness,” Marina whispers to me. “He can hear but has no voice.”
“And what does that mean in human?”
“I don’t know.”
Schuyler comes out from behind the curtain, either on some cue from Rueful or drawn by the commotion. He and the ink blot cross the room, in step.
Schuyler grabs Dante under his arms, brushing Mr. Pace off, while Rueful takes his legs from Dad. Honoria’s the only one who refuses to let go until the three of them have put Dante in a bed.
“Best to sleep,” Bolt says, leaning his weight against Dante’s chest.
“Agreed,” Dr. Wolff says.
They tie Dante down with restraints, but he breaks one of the wrist ties clean off the wall before the meds kick in. Even asleep, with a breathing mask full of anti-Fade smoke over his nose, he never stops moving. His skin’s a kaleidoscope of shifting and swirling marks that never disappear long enough for Dante to look like himself. His eyes twitch while tremors shake his hands and feet. The muscles in his neck constrict.
“They’ve hit his nervous system,” Honoria says to no one.
“You have to help him,” Silver croaks. “You’re supposed to protect the good people, and you shot him!” She punches Lt. Sykes in the side, screaming hysterically until Nique folds her into another hug. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Dante wouldn’t do that!”
“Shh. It’s okay, honey,” Nique says. “He’ll be okay.”
“No. He won’t,” Honoria says.
“You could at least pretend to show some compassion,” Nique spits. “We don’t know anything yet.”
“I
do
, and so do they.” She points to Dad and the others. “We know
exactly
what this is because we’ve seen it—too many times and over too many years to remember all the faces. We’ve lived it, and
I
tried to warn you. You wouldn’t listen, so try looking.”
Honoria reaches for the edge of Dante’s shirt, where it’s come loose from the back of his pants, and yanks it up, lifting his body on the side where he broke the restraint. There’s a black smudge focused at his spine and branching out along his nerves to his whole body.
“He didn’t have that before,” Silver insists.
“We called it the Death Tree when I was your age. Why don’t you ask them why?” Honoria says.
“Dad?” I ask.
“Go on, James. Try telling him this truth and see if it lightens your spirits.”
“We called it the Death Tree because once it took root, the only options were death or Fading.”
We? He’s talking like he was around when Honoria was a kid. I’ve never heard anyone mention Death Trees before.
“Never think I don’t know,” Honoria growls, dropping Dante’s shirt.
Silver screams again, stamping her feet as she clings tighter to Nique. I reach for my back, sliding my hand under my shirt to feel the skin below it.
“There’s nothing there, Tobin,” Marina whispers, pulling my hand down.
“There has to be something we can do,” Nique says.
“Containment,” Honoria says grimly. “Dante’s the only one symptomatic—
so far
. Hopefully, we can stop it before it spreads to anyone else.”
“Spreads?” Silver sniffles, suddenly more alert. “Spreads how?”
“Contact with a carrier,” Dr. Wolff says. “I’ll reinstate mandatory blood screenings, starting with Dante’s peers and their families. It’ll take days to get through everyone, but if anyone else has been exposed, we’ll know by then, anyway.”
“What kind of contact?” Silver asks, quieter, and still. No one’s been closer to Dante than she has. “Like
contact
contact?”
Nique curses into the top of her head. Honoria and Sykes go ice white.
Dr. Wolff heads for the cabinets where he keeps his syringes, preparing another one. Dad slams the heels of his hands into his temples. He used to do the same thing when Mom had a seizure he couldn’t stop and he thought it would be the one that killed her.
“It’s happening again,” Mr. Pace mumbles.
Only Sykes remains as he was, waiting for orders.
“I’m not like him—I promise.”
Silver tries to wriggle loose, but Nique holds her tight. “Let us see your back, baby.”
Slowly, she raises the back of Silver’s uniform; it only takes a couple of inches to see the streaks down her spine. Honoria kicks a wastebasket to the other side of the room, drowning whatever she says in the clang.
“She’s branching,” Sykes says.
Dante’s over the line, and Silver’s approaching it, but Marina’s Fade stay ominously and suspiciously mute.
“This isn’t what happened to me, or Trey,” I prompt them. “What’s happening to her?”
“
Darkness,” Rueful says. He glances at Marina.
“It’s a tide,” she says for him. “Dante and Silver are being washed away. Dragged out to sea.”
“They are too many,” Rueful says.
“They are aware.” Schuyler.
“They are searching.” Rueful.
“They are here.” Schuyler.
They answer together, almost like they aren’t the ones talking; it’s just coming out of their mouths.
“Who’s here?” Honoria asks.
“They have no name.”
“They are no one. They are Dark.”
That cleared things right up . . .
“Somebody please tell me what’s happening,” Silver’s still crying.
Dr. Wolff comes closer, needle in hand, and Silver goes wild trying to get away from him. The more she thrashes in Nique’s arms, the faster the black lines creep down her spine, sprouting feelers onto smaller nerves.
“Make it stop,” Silver begs.
“The faster your pulse, the faster they spread,” Dr. Wolff says. “You have to control yourself.”
He gives her the shot.
“But I don’t want to be one of them. I didn’t even go out there—Dante kept asking me, but I stayed inside. I was good.” She breaks and runs for the Fade, kneeling down to grasp their hands, begging. “I was good. Why did you do this to me?”
“These aren’t ours,” Rue says. “They won’t listen.”
“Dante and Silver are kids,” Nique says. “Like you—you’re kids, aren’t you? Young? Marina, help me, here. I don’t know how to say it so he’ll understand.”
Schuyler’s younger than Honoria, but that’s not saying much.
“Silver doesn’t want this,” Marina says. “It was a mistake, Rue. Can’t you fix it? For me?”
They’re the magic words.
For me
got Rueful to save my life when he wanted me dead. Surely, he’ll help a girl who knocked out the lights for him.
“Take them back,” Silver begs. “I won’t even be mad, I promise. I just want to stay me.” She even manages a smile.
Rueful stands and reaches down to draw her up, but Schuyler holds him back.
“They are not ours,” he insists.
His voice sets Honoria off.
“Get a suppressant in her system,” she orders Dr. Wolff. “We can beat the first replication spike; there may not be enough in her to be toxic yet.”
Silver whimpers. She’s shutting down.
Honoria softens her tone. “It won’t feel very good, but if we can get ahead of them—”
“It made me human,” Marina says over her. “That’s all you need to know, isn’t it?”
Silver nods. Honoria actually mouths, “Thank you.”
“I’ll get the meds.” Dr. Wolff heads for his mixing room.
“I want this ward sealed, inside and out,” Honoria says, making for the exit. “Sykes, get on that door. I’m rerouting power to the alarms in the subterranean areas since our current measures are obviously ineffective. We’ll need new fires on the perimeter to make up for the dimmer lights, and, Dominque, be careful of her tears.”
She and Sykes leave the rest of us. The main door snaps shut, hissing as the quarantine seal sets.
“I’m sorry,” Silver says. She’s blubbering, but she’s calmer. The shot must have worked. “I didn’t know . . . neither did he . . . He couldn’t have.”
Nique lets her cry, completely disregarding Honoria’s warning. Rueful approaches them cautiously.
“Do you hear?” he asks.
“Of course. You’re talking to me.” Silver cringes back.
“He means the hive,” Marina explains. “Can you hear voices? Sometimes it sounds like static.”
“I don’t hear anything. Is that good?”
“May I speak?” Rueful asks.
Silver looks to Marina for translation.
“He wants to know if he can touch you. Maybe he can help.”
Silver holds a shaking hand out, whimpering when Rueful takes it.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” I ask, leaning close to Marina’s ear.
She shrugs.
Rueful and Silver go still, both with their eyes closed. Mr. Pace draws Nique back, though she’s reluctant to let Silver go. It could easily be Annie standing there with Fade trickling down her spine and rewiring her nervous system.
We’re all just staring. It feels like nothing’s happening, and then Marina smiles.
“They’re synchronizing—we all are. All the beats are—No!”
Rueful flinches, like a muscle spasm that leaves him swaying. Whatever was working just stopped.
“Oh no,” Marina whispers. “No!”
Rueful crashes down to one knee, and Marina runs to him. She touches his arm but pulls back.
“He’s freezing.”
His hands nearly burned my skin in the Dark. Cold can’t be good.
“It’s siphoning his body heat.”
“What is?” Dad asks.
“Darkness,” she says, touching Rueful with a finger before pulling that back, too. She shakes her hand. “It hurts. Help him!” She looks at Schuyler. “He can’t get free.”
Rueful isn’t holding on to Silver anymore; she has him and won’t let go.
She progresses from tremors to full-body convulsions. Black marks explode onto her face and hands, stretching beyond her body in grotesque protrusions aimed at Rueful like spikes. His marks retreat, leaving his hand the color of blanched bone inside hers.
Marina reaches for Rueful at the same time Nique lunges for Silver, but neither makes contact. Mr. Pace and Schuyler intercept them both before I can move.
“Get them apart!” Marina shouts, kicking in Schuyler’s arms.
My mind floods with an endless sea of white. Nothing but light in all directions.
Light . . .
It worked when Rueful was in the White Room.
I run for the switch plate near the door and then spin the dial to high power. Sunlamps ignite over each bed before the emergency blinders put us all into a white out.
Human and Fade scream through my hands covering my ears. I’m screaming myself.
“Turn them off,” Marina shrieks. “You’ll kill them!”
But I hold the dial a few more seconds before turning them down.
Silver’s motionless on the floor, her face marked by receding patches of black that blur to gray. Rueful’s marks return to normal, everywhere except his hand, which stays white. He’s sluggish and uncoordinated. Schuyler crouches hidden inside a veil of nanites.
“Get him out of here,” Marina begs.
The keypad on the door’s already beeping with the sound of someone entering the code, which means Sykes, or worse, and neither he nor Honoria will wait for an explanation about what happened. They’ll only see Silver corpselike on the floor and Dante with his screaming silent mouth.
“Get out of here. Your sister will kill you both,” I tell Schuyler.
Marina nudges her shoulder under Rueful and starts to lift him, but his muscles aren’t working right; they drag, and his nerves are jumping under his skin. There’s no way she can manage on her own.
I take his weight on the other side.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
I can regret saving the ink blot later. For now, it made her happy.
Mr. Pace uses his wristband to override whatever Honoria’s done to the security panel we used to get to the hospital, and it slides open.
Dad whispers something to Schuyler, who nods and takes Rueful from us at the entrance. Mr. Pace seals them in as the outer doors open.