Rising Tide (37 page)

It's a bicycle messenger who tells me that Sergei died. He just tells me flat-out, sent by Miranda. And thinking about Miranda makes my heart break in two because I can imagine how she's feeling. I grab a rickshaw to take me to the quarantine house.

She's standing outside, arms wrapped around herself, her face tearstained and puffy. I jump out of the seat and run to her, taking her in my arms, holding her as she sobs and shakes.

It's like being shot and stabbed at the same time. I'm sad about losing Sergei, I truly am, but I'm even more upset by knowing what it's doing to Miranda. I lost a father. I know what that's like. Miranda has lost two.

“I think he was peaceful,” she says. “In the end. I was able to give him something to help with the pain.”

“Good,” I say, stroking her hair. “That's good.”

She wipes her nose with a handkerchief she pulls from her pocket. “I tried so hard, Ben. I tried to fix things. I just . . . couldn't.”

“I know,” I say, pulling her close again. “I know you did everything you could.”

A moment later, her hand curls up, grips my shirt. “I want to kill them,” she says, her voice low and throaty. “I want to kill them all.”

“I know,” I say. “Me, too.”

She sobs again, and I rub her back and wish that there was a way I could fix things. Wish that I could quiet her pain.

After the sobs subside, she looks up at me through tear-glazed eyes. “He wanted,” she says. “He wanted you to have the
Pasteur
.”

That's when my own tears come. Summoned up through the vast, numb emptiness I've been feeling. The
Pasteur
is Sergei's airship. It's a modest affair, and mostly it's been used for scientific research, but . . . Sergei gave her to me. Sergei tried to give me my wings back.

I nod to her. And smile through the tears. Then I pull her close again, and we hold on to each other, both of us crying. Both of us mourning our friend.

Both of us craving vengeance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

FROM THE JOURNAL OF MIRANDA MEHRA

I lied to get access to Hector. I know that Lewis had taken him into custody, presumably to beat information out of him, but I didn't think it would work. Call it an educated guess, but I know something about the Cabal from when I met some of their people back on Gastown. They think they're superior to everyone else. Certainly to people like Lewis and Diego.

Hector would see violence as something expected and base.

What I told the Council members was that Hector still posted a threat. That we didn't know what his blood might be carrying or what else he might have stashed on the island. That was enough to get them to let me see him (and to prevent others from going in to see him).

I showed up with a small kit of syringes, four of them nestled safely inside. They locked me in the room with him.

Hector's face was already bruised and scabbed. He sneered at me when he saw me.

“I was hoping that you would be willing to talk to me,” I said. “Scientist to scientist.”

Hector barked a laugh at me. “Why?”

I shrugged. “You proved your point. And your new virus seems to be potent. What do you call it?”

Hector shook his head. “Nice try. But I'm not telling you anything.”

I pulled out my first syringe, took a blood sample. He didn't struggle. Didn't fight. “That won't help you,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I think you will.”

“You're deluded,” he spat.

I smiled at him. Then I removed my second syringe. His sneer disappeared when he saw that it already contained blood. “What's that?” he asked.

“Blood from a specimen of ours. Alpha.”

He went pale. “The Feral?”

My smile widened. “I'm not supposed to have this here. But I had some samples transported. For our virus test.” I moved the syringe to his arm. “Now,” I said. “You are going to give me information on this new disease you created, or else I'm going to inject you with this blood. I expect the viral load is quite high.”

“You can't,” he said, his voice tinged with hysteria.

“Oh, I can.” The needle tip slid across his skin. “Because your disease killed someone very dear to me. It's too late to save him now. But I can make you pay.”

“Wait,” he said. “Wait.” Pleading. Lots of pleading. A small part of me enjoyed it, the power I had in my hand. “I'll tell you what you want to know,” he said.

And he did. He told me how he and Maya were set up at the prison camp, so that they would be taken back with my people, knowing that we'd be unlikely to leave them behind. He told me how the location of the prison camp was deliberately given to us so that they could use the island as a testing ground for their new disease. He confirmed that it was an autoimmune disease. Detailed its structure.

“How did you infect us?”

Even with the threat of the syringe, he couldn't stop a smile from crawling onto his face. “Through the water supply,” he said. “We engineered it to live in water. I infected one of your wells.”

I went cold at that. From the Cabal's perspective, it was the perfect way to attack—we're on an island with limited water resources, and water is something we need. It would also be hard to trace.

“Was that what was in the syringe you attacked Ben with?” I asked.

“No,” he spat. “That was just a poison. But there is one more vial. Redundancy. I hid it.” He licked his lips. “If you let me go, I'll tell you where it is.”

“Do you really think I'm going to do that?”

“You need it. To isolate the antigen.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I'll give it to you. But you have to let me go. Just . . . out the door. That's it. Just give me a chance to get away.”

I thought about how Maya had gotten away. Out the door might be enough for him. “How can I trust you?” I asked.

“Let me take you to it. Once you see it, you let me go.”

“There are guards outside,” I told him.

“Figure out a way to get rid of them.”

“I think that might be a bit beyond me,” I said. “You're too important. But . . .” I steeled myself, forcing my face to be steady. This whole time I had wanted to push the syringe into him. Press the plunger down and watch him dread what came next. Savor it. Sergei was dead. I couldn't get him back.

But I could maybe help others. That's what I kept telling myself. That's what I
had
to keep telling myself.

“How about you tell me where the vial is,” I said. “And if it's there, I promise you. On all that is dear to me, I promise that I will walk you out that door myself.”

He screwed up his face. “How can I trust
you
?”

I shrugged. “You might just have to take a chance,” I said. “But I give you my promise. I promise on Sergei's life. I will walk you out that door myself. If I find that you're telling the truth, I'll find a way to move the guards, and you can walk through that door.”

He searched my face, then his eyes narrowed. I could practically see him running the equations in his head. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, he said, “Okay.” Then he gave me the location, a tree near the lab, a forked one. He told me the vial was buried at its base, near a large, gnarled root. I left to go look for it, telling the guards I'd be back soon. And there it was, exactly where he said it was. I didn't even have to dig very far. I pulled out the tube, intact and filled with liquid.

When I returned to the cell, I held the tube out to the Keepers there, one male, one female. “Hector gave this up,” I said.

“What is it?” the woman asked.

“It contains the virus,” I said. “The new one.” The male Keeper looked at his partner. “I need you to take it to the lab.”

“Us?” the man asked.

“Yes. It's very important. It has to be kept safe. Take it to Lewis if you want.”

“You take it,” the woman said to her partner. “Keep it safe. And whatever you do, don't break it.”

The male Keeper looked nervous, his young face covered with apprehension. But he took the vial.

“Quickly now.”

He ran off.

As soon as he was out of sight, I moved to the door, but before going through, I took the next syringe from my pocket and pressed it into the other Keeper's neck. She went down quickly with the dose of tranquilizer I gave her.

When I returned to Hector, he looked hopeful. “You found it?”

“I did.”

“And you'll keep your promise?”

“I will.” I moved to him and kept his hands bound, but I untied him from the chair and walked him on stiff legs to the door.

“You're making the right decision,” he said. “It will be better this way.”

I just nodded back to him.

He looked down at the body of the Keeper on the ground outside the door. Then he looked back at me and smiled. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

“You don't know me very well,” I said.

“My hands?” Hector asked, holding out his bound wrists.

I grabbed hold of one of his wrists and undid his bonds, seeing his smile out of the corner of my vision.

I matched it with one of my own as I pulled the wrist closer and, with my other hand, depressed the fourth syringe into it.

He fell back, rubbing at his hand. “What was that?” His voice was high and sharp.

“That poison you meant for Ben.”

He tried to pull away, to turn and run, but already his legs were growing weak and he fell to the ground, still holding his wrist.

“You promised.”

“You killed my best friend.”

As I stood over him and watched him convulse and tremble, he looked up at me with wide eyes. “You'll never make it,” he gasped.

“Neither will you,” I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
hey confine Miranda to her house as punishment, but they let me in to see her, which is a relief after everything that's happened. I sit down in a nearby chair, just looking at her, not knowing what to say. Her eyes are red from crying, though because of Sergei or what had just happened or both, I don't know.

“Tell me what happened,” I say at last.

“I needed to know,” she says. Her voice is tight, strangled. “I needed to know how to fix this thing.”

I nod. “Okay. Did he—”

“Yes,” she says. “I have a sample, now. I've sent a messenger to Clay. If things work out, we should be able to create a vaccine.”

“That's great,” I say, trying to inject some feeling of excitement into my voice. “Then you can start inoculating people?”

“Anyone who hasn't been infected,” she says. There's something in her tone—something self-recriminating or self-mocking. “It won't help the dozen or so people suffering, though.”

I grab her hand. “Don't feel bad for what happened,” I say. “He deserved everything he got. Look what he's done to us.”

She meets my eyes. “I know. But I still crossed a line.”

“Miranda, please don't beat yourself up over this.”

“That's just it, Ben.” She lets go of my hand, stands up, and starts pacing behind her table. “I don't feel bad about it. I would do it again.”

The words chill me a bit. I know they shouldn't—that I might have done worse in her position—but they still do. This is Miranda.

“Then what's the problem?”

She scratches a piece of the wooden desk near one corner. “Did they deal with the well?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say. “After figuring out which one got everyone sick, they shut it down. Which is going to put a strain on the other water sources. The island doesn't have an abundance of freshwater. And it hasn't rained for days.”

“I just don't want any more people to get sick. Not until we can get this vaccine out. A lot of people used that well.” I see her hand clench into a fist.

“Miranda, what is it?”

She shrugs. “I don't know, Ben. The fact that we lost so many people. That one of them—” Her voice cracks, but she gets it under control. “Was Sergei. The fact that I just killed the man that did it?”

“There's something else wrong,” I say. I don't know how I know—it's just a feeling—but I know.

She looks up at me, surprised. Then quickly looks away. “I wasn't going to tell you.”

“Tell me what.” I stand up and move toward her. Grab the hand that was picking at the table. “What's going on?”

She looks up at me, her face drained of emotion. She just looks tired. Beat up and tired. Then she laughs for a moment, putting her free hand up to her mouth. “Sorry. It's just almost comical, all of this.”

“Miranda . . .”

“I have the disease, Ben. Enigma.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“I'm infected,” she says.

The irony of the situation is that Clay gets the vaccine going around the time that Miranda starts to decline. And while she's tired and weak, she insists on continuing to study the Enigma virus. It's like she's racing it now, trying to find a cure before it kills her.