Once We Were (30 page)

I said.

I insisted.

There was a great groaning noise. Then something fell, slamming into the ground so hard it shook beneath us. There was a blast of heat.

Fire.

A strangled scream ripped from our throat.

I cried.

This time, she didn’t argue.

Our arm didn’t move. Our hand didn’t move. But our fingers twitched. I tried our other arm, our left arm—

The pain came. Knives from our shoulder to our elbow and shooting down our back. We gasped and choked, coughing. More pain, in our ribs now. Our legs seemed freer than the rest of us. They felt hotter, too, as if flames ate the rubble next to them. I prayed I wouldn’t accidentally burn ourself.

I tried, through brute strength of will, to force our head and torso up. But our spread arms gave no support at all. I shifted our left leg over our right and shoved upward with our hip and shoulder. Our chest left the ground an inch or two, but our arm was still pinned, and everything
hurt, hurt so badly
. I screamed, and it came out a whimper.

But the blunt force upward had caused something to shift. When I tried moving our right hand again, it was almost free. If only we were faceup, I could shove—

A great weight lifted from our body. I gasped, lungs expanding, chest aching. I coughed. Sputtered. Choked on ash.

Jackson? Had Jackson come to dig us out? We were still facedown. I saw nothing but blackness and stars of pain.

Something clattered to the ground. The pressure on our back lessened further. I didn’t know which way to slide, but somehow, I figured it out. Then we were free. We weren’t blind. We collapsed against a fallen bit of wall.

I looked up, eyes squinted, to see who had saved us.

Jenson.

The smoke-filled air obscured his expression. Or maybe that was the soot on his skin, or the blur in our vision.

He stumbled, and I flinched as he lurched toward us. His hand slammed the wall just above our head. He fell to the side, rolling at the last minute so his body didn’t crush ours.

Then we were both sitting there, backs against the wall, as the Powatt institution snapped and burned around us.

We looked around at the devastation. The building was still standing; we saw no sky. But there was so much smoke and dust. Blown-apart bits of walls and ceiling and floor. We heard a fire crackling, saw licks of orange and yellow.

We coughed and whimpered when our ribs felt like they were cracking with each breath. I was too exhausted to move. There was blood on Jenson’s face. On his shirt, which had been white but was now stained by soot and dark-red blotches.

“I knew I would find you.” His voice was a hoarse, mangled version of its usual steel. He stared at Addie and me, as if all his attention was for us, even in the face of total destruction. Whatever strength had powered him in helping us from the rubble had seeped away. “The fireworks in Lankster. The police dashboard video. I saw you.”

Addie whispered. Her horror was a hard, black thing. Jenson spoke like a man gone mad.

Then I realized. There had been a police car at Lankster. The one that had hit Cordelia right in front of us. The policeman had met our eyes.

Police cars had dashboard cameras.

“The oxygen.” Jenson groaned. His words dissolved into a gasp for breath. “The doctor—I spoke to him, and I knew. It was you. I said I would find you.”

The doctor smoking in the doorway of Benoll, the end of his cigarette an ember in the darkness.

“Where’s the boy?”
Jenson grabbed our shoulder. His fingers were talons through our thin shirt. I gasped at the pain, trying to pull away. “They took him with you from Nornand. Where is he?”

“You can’t have him,” I whispered.

“Where
is
he?
Where is Jaime Cortae?
”

I shook our head.

The shout came from far away. Both Jenson and I looked up, searching.

Closer now. Louder. Clearer. A boy.

Ryan.

His name came to our lips but got no farther.

“Where are you?” Ryan shouted. Frustration ripped at his words, made his voice raw. There was too much smoke and debris to see more than a few yards away.

“Found her!” came a voice through the rubble. But it wasn’t Ryan’s.

Dr. Lyanne emerged from the smoke like an apparition. A ghost wearing an A-line skirt and unsensible heels, hair pulled back severely from her face. We were so dazed we just stared, watching her come toward us, looking so casual with her purse hanging from one shoulder.

She tensed at the sight of Jenson, then knelt in front of Addie and me. I tried to speak and started coughing again. We felt her hand slide up our shirt, feeling gently at our ribs. I hissed in pain.

“My ankle,” I managed to say.

She moved to our legs. “Which one?”

“The . . . the right.
Don’t
,” I gasped when she touched it. She reached into her purse and drew out a small first-aid kit before gently removing our shoe and sock. Our ankle had already started to swell.

Jenson spoke, his eyes on Dr. Lyanne as she rummaged around the kit for scissors and a roll of bandages. “What made you do it? Steal the boy? Betray all you ever worked for?”

“Can you move your toes?” Dr. Lyanne asked me. “Point your foot?”

I tried and managed to twitch a few toes. Pointing was harder. “Is it broken?”

“Hard to say for sure,” she said. “Your other leg’s all right?”

“I—I think so.”

She nodded and I tried to stay still as she carefully bound our ankle. Everything hurt. Dr. Lyanne had a number of pill packets in her kit, along with a few small, packaged syringes. I was about to ask if any of them were painkillers when she reached for our hand. “Come on. I’ll help you stand, see if you can put any weight on it. The security guard up front has already called the police. They’ll be swarming the place soon.”

Ryan crashed onto the scene before either of us could move. Jackson was only a step behind him. Both stared at me, then at Jenson, then back to me.

“God, Eva,” Ryan said, and didn’t seem able to say any more. He joined Dr. Lyanne by our side, reaching hesitantly for our face.

Dr. Lyanne climbed to her feet. “She’ll be fine. Help me get her up.”

It took a few tries, but with Jackson and Ryan helping, I managed to stand, balancing on our good leg. Our body felt so heavy, our head most of all. I thought we might throw up.

Now, finally, Dr. Lyanne turned to Jenson. The two of them examined each other.

“You two get her out of here,” Dr. Lyanne said to Ryan and Jackson. “Go the same way we came in. Don’t let the guard catch you.” She pressed a packet of pills into our hand. “Take these. Two every four hours. It’ll help with the pain.”

“What about you?” Ryan said.

Dr. Lyanne nodded at Jenson. “Somebody’s got to get him out.”

Jenson was silent. He had saved Addie and me, in the end. He’d come back for us in the stairwell, at great risk to himself. He’d unburied us from the rubble when he could barely stand. Perhaps he’d done it in pursuit of his own goals—his own obsessions—but he had saved us.

“Why are you helping him?” Jackson demanded.

“I’m a doctor,” Dr. Lyanne said. “It’s what I do.”

The sky was purple and orange when we finally left the building behind. How long had we been unconscious? I looked at the wreckage. Half the building was nearly gone, collapsed like a child’s toy in smoldering ruins. The other half—the half where we and Jenson had been—was still standing. It all burned.

By the time we reached Jackson’s car, Addie and I were shaking, our muscles jelly. Ryan helped us into the backseat. We collapsed in a heap, taking shallow breaths because our ribs hurt too badly for deep ones. I’d dry-swallowed the pills Dr. Lyanne had given us, but so far, they didn’t seem to be working.

“I thought you were going to Peter’s place,” I whispered.

Ryan’s eyes met ours. “I thought you were going back to Emalia’s apartment. What happened to understanding that if you get into trouble, the only place I want to be is right there with you?”

I looked away.

“I did go to Peter’s apartment,” Ryan said. “He wasn’t there. I waited until Hally showed up. Then she stayed there while I went to call Dr. Lyanne. She was the only other person I could think of who could drive us out here.” He pulled the door shut behind us as Jackson threw the car into drive. His voice was edged. “I should have come with you, Eva.”

“If you weren’t here, you could argue your innocence,” I said softly. Jackson’s eyes met ours in the rearview mirror. I realized he’d claimed the same thing about keeping Sabine’s real plans secret from Addie and me. But this wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same at all. “Sabine and Christoph?”

Jackson explained how he’d run into Sabine and Christoph while searching for us. How they’d prevented him from going into the building after us—the guard I’d pushed past had run in after me, but another had replaced him at the door.

Those guards had, in a way, saved our lives. Unable to actually enter the building, Sabine and Christoph had set up the bomb outside, which was why only half the institution had collapsed.

If we’d taken the flight of stairs on the other side of the building . . .

“Everyone else,” I said. “The officials, the other doctors . . . they all got away?”

Jackson nodded. “A crowd ran out right before the explosion. They left with some of the security guards. What happened in there, Eva?”

I told them about Jenson. What he’d said. How he’d been watching us, in a way, this entire time. We drove and drove and drove under a darkening sky. Everything was a too-sharp dream.

I lay our head against Ryan’s shoulder and closed our eyes as the silence of the road became the night noise of the city. I tried at first not to think about Dr. Lyanne, because it hurt too much, and then I did think about her, because it felt wrong not to. I whispered quiet prayers that she would make it out.

We didn’t open our eyes when Ryan said quietly, “We’re almost there.”

We didn’t open our eyes when Jackson first whispered, “This isn’t right.”

We didn’t open our eyes until the police sirens.

And then we did.

And the last piece of hope inside us crumpled.

T
here was a roadblock all around Emalia’s apartment building. Officers and police cars crowded the otherwise deserted streets.

I said.

Emalia and Sophie and Henri—

I didn’t realize I was moving until Ryan’s arms closed around our shoulders, forcing me to stop. Jackson parked on the side of the road, a few blocks from our apartment.

Darkness had descended upon the city, punctuated by streetlights and headlights. A tap on the car almost made us scream. Then a shadowed face appeared on the other side of the window.

Lissa.

I unlocked the door. Lissa eased it open and slipped inside, hissing
shh
when Ryan and I started to speak at once. She kept her head low and motioned for the rest of us to crouch down, too, so we were harder to see. Her eyes moved over us, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the blood with growing alarm.

“It’s better than it looks,” I said, which probably wasn’t true, but that wasn’t what was important right now.

“What’s going on?” Ryan demanded.

Lissa spoke in a rush, like she’d been running the words through her head, just waiting for someone to take them from her. “I waited until Peter came home. I told him what was happening—I told him everything. Then Sabine and Christoph came back. But they were followed.”

If they’d been followed, then someone must have connected them with the bombing. Was it because they’d left too late? Was it because they’d lingered, trying to stop Addie and me?

Addie must have felt my guilt.