The Worlds We Make (2 page)

At least I’d saved one person. If she really had stayed safe there.

My heart leapt at a knock on the door. I’d wondered what the others were doing, but I hadn’t wanted to disrupt the calm Gav had settled into.

“Everything okay?” Leo asked, nudging open the door.

It wasn’t okay, not anymore, but there was nothing Leo could do about that. “We’re all right,” I said hoarsely, lifting my head from Gav’s. “How’s the weather looking?”

“The snow’s let up a bit, but it’s getting dark,” he said. “We figured it’d be better to crash here for the night and check out that town in the morning. If that makes sense to you?”

Another night lost. But I couldn’t expect them to hike for hours through the dark. And if the Wardens drove past and saw the flashlights…

“The smoke from the fire,” I said. “Is it still snowing enough to cover it?”

“I think so. And it’ll be so dark soon it won’t matter. We managed to get the SUV into the garage here so no one can spot it from the freeway.”

I should have thought of that. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but my mind spun. I hadn’t eaten since our hurried breakfast that morning.

One panicked thought broke through the rest. “The cold-storage box! You brought it inside?”

“Got it right here,” Leo said. “I put in some fresh snow. You want it in the room with you?”

Gav stirred. His fingers dug into my coat. I squeezed his shoulder, thinking about Anika out there with the others, still studying us to determine the best advantage. “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.” She
had
tried to steal the samples once. Yes, she’d sided with us over the Wardens because of how harshly they’d treated her afterward, but that didn’t mean she was any less desperate to protect herself from the virus. Driving the getaway car was one thing. Withstanding the temptation of the vaccine sitting in clear view? That would be hard for anyone.

Leo opened the door to slide the cold box inside, and Gav flinched at the sound.

“Who’s there?” he said, and then doubled over, coughing.

Leo shot me a worried glance. At my strained smile, he ducked back out. I brushed my fingers over Gav’s hair.

“It was just Leo checking in on us,” I said.

He coughed a few more times, and wiped at his mouth.
“Leo,”
he sneered, and something twisted inside me even though I knew his jealousy was unfounded. There had been a time when my feelings for my best friend had gone beyond friendship, and maybe his for me too. Leo had kissed me after an awkward sort-of confession when he’d thought I was leaving on this mission without him and might not make it back. But Gav didn’t know about that.

He didn’t need to. I was with Gav, and Leo knew I was with Gav, and both of us would have risked our lives to save him from the virus. If only we knew how.

I lowered my head as Gav pulled me closer. “Do we have to keep driving?” he murmured. “All the way to Atlanta. Centers for Disease Control. They really weren’t very good at their job, were they? Didn’t control this disease at all.”

“No one did,” I pointed out. As far as we knew, from what we’d seen and heard, the so-called friendly flu had spread across the whole world.

“Why not?” Gav said, his voice rising. “With all those scientists, one of them must have been smart enough, but no one could be bothered to—”

His voice broke with another coughing fit. And I thought,
My
dad bothered
. My dad had kept working on his vaccine prototype until the day he died. Gav just hadn’t trusted him or it enough to take it when I’d asked him to.

And I just hadn’t insisted.

I bit my lip. “Hey,” I said, “don’t worry about that. You need to rest.”

“I’ve been resting,” Gav said. “That’s all I’ve been doing. We should go.”

He grabbed the edge of the desk to yank himself upright, his arms trembling. “Gav!” I said. The bottle of sedative-laced water in my coat pocket bumped against my ribs as I scooted over to him. I tugged it out.

“You should drink something,” I said. “This made you feel better before.”

“That orange crap?” he said. “I drank that in the car, and then I puked. No. I’m not taking any more.”

His muscles gave out, and he slumped back down onto the rug. I set the bottle aside.

“Okay,” I said. “Then just stay here with me.”

I’d need to come up with a better plan when we were back in the car tomorrow. Assuming we found a replacement tire. Assuming the Wardens didn’t swarm us in the middle of the night.

But for now, all that mattered was keeping Gav here and keeping him calm. That was going to be hard enough.

The virus was stealthy and vicious and nearly unstoppable, but it was also predictable. I’d known Gav was sick the moment I’d seen him scratching his wrist when we stood outside Toronto’s city hall. I’d known that after five or so days of itching and coughing and sneezing, the virus multiplying through his body would break down the part of his brain that filtered the thoughts and impulses he knew better than to let out, while making him crave constant company. And I knew that, before much longer, his mind would short-circuit completely, into a series of violent hallucinations and delusions.

But knowing it did me no good. For what felt like a few hours, he and I lay on the rug, and Gav slept and woke, slept and woke. Each time he stirred into consciousness, I offered him the sedative drink, until he pushed the bottle away so forcefully it popped from my fingers and half of the remaining liquid splashed onto the floor.

After that, I didn’t ask again.

Could we manage to keep him calm in the car undrugged? Was there some way I could trick him into taking one of the pills instead?

It stopped mattering the moment Gav started twitching.

“No,” he muttered against his coat sleeve. “No.”

I touched the side of his face. His skin was even hotter than before. “Hey, it’s okay,” I said. “You’re okay.”

He jerked away from me, and his eyes popped open, fixing on something beyond my shoulder. “No!” he shouted. “Leave me alone!”

He scrambled backward, his arm jarring against the corner of the desk. The blanket tangled around his legs. He thrashed at it while he groped for the bookcase behind him.

I eased upright, my heart thumping. “Gav…” I said, but I didn’t know how to continue.

Gav snatched a book off the shelves and hurled it at the opposite wall. I edged to the side, holding out my hands. “There’s nothing here, Gav,” I said in the most soothing voice I could call up. Only a faint, quivering light was seeping under the door from the living room. I fumbled for the flashlight and switched it on. “It’s me. Kaelyn. You’re safe.”

I’m not sure if he heard me. He slammed himself back against the bookcase, fixated on whatever horror his virus-addled brain had conjured up. I wavered on my feet.

When Meredith had gotten this bad, back on the island, I’d taken her to the hospital and helped the doctor inject her with sedatives and tie restraints around her. All I could do for Gav was watch.

I stepped toward him, and his gaze darted to me, his pupils so dilated they consumed almost all the color in his eyes. He hefted another book.

“Stay back!” he said. “Get away from me!”

The floor creaked on the other side of the door. “What’s going on?” Justin said.

Gav’s head snapped toward the door. He flung himself at it, falling to his knees as the blanket tripped him.

“I want out of here!” he yelled, pawing at the doorknob. “Let me out!”

I reached for him, and he slapped my hand away. With a heave, he rammed the door open while propelling himself to his feet. Leo, Tobias, and Justin had gathered outside the doorway, Anika poised behind them. They stared at Gav, and he at them. Then he lunged.

I threw myself after him, grabbing his elbow. He spun with a sound I could only describe as a snarl, and slammed me into the door frame. I gasped as pain radiated up my back and though my skull. His elbow slipped from my hand.

“Whoa!” Tobias said firmly, catching Gav by the shoulder. Leo grasped his other wrist.

“He’s just sick,” I said through the throbbing of my head. “He’s just…”

“Let go of me, let me go, let me go!” Gav cried, struggling, but he must have burned through whatever strength he’d had left in his starved body. As he sagged toward the floor, Leo and Tobias hauled him back into the office. Justin shifted, eyeing me.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, but I staggered when I tried to straighten up. A fresh jab of pain shot up the back of my head. My eyes watered, and my gut clenched.

Gav had done that. Gav had wanted to hurt me.

Not him, I reminded myself. The virus. Only the virus.

“No!” Gav was shouting. “No, no, no, no!” Tobias and Leo stumbled out of the room, Leo clutching the cold box. Tobias shoved the door shut, and an instant later fists pounded against it. The knob rattled.

“Don’t let him out,” Anika said, backing away. Her face had gone sallow in the firelight. Leo braced himself against the door.

“Put something in front of it,” Justin said, and Tobias pointed to the dining room armoire. They dashed over and pushed it along the wall to the office door. The knob thumped against it. Gav’s frantic voice carried through the wood.

“You can’t! Don’t leave me here! It’s going to—Please, let me go!”

I covered my ears, tears welling behind my closed eyelids. Someone touched my shoulder—lightly, but I flinched.

“Kae?” Leo said. “How badly did he hurt you?”

“It wasn’t him!” I snapped. It wasn’t him we’d trapped in that room, alone with the images that were tormenting him. It wasn’t.

Because in every way that mattered, the Gav I knew was already completely gone.

Through the night, I sat in the corner while Gav raved and raged on the other side of the wall. Despite the warmth wafting from the fireplace, the others retreated to the second floor. I didn’t blame them. How could anyone sleep there in the living room, hearing him?

I rested my head against the wall, listening to his fists grow weaker and his voice more ragged. Tears streaked down my cheeks. He was fighting so hard, battling the enemies his muddled mind had conjured up, just as he’d always fought. He’d put everything he had into helping our town and then getting me across the country. And this was where he’d ended up. I’d set out to save the world, and I couldn’t even save the person who’d supported me the most.

The sun rose. Light splashed through the living room window. The others crept downstairs, moving through the kitchen and the dining room. I closed my eyes. Gav was crying in the office, in heaving gulps. My fingers curled into my palms, nails digging into the skin.

After a while, Leo came into the living room. He stopped a few feet from where I was crouched. I looked at his boots, the scuffs and scratches in the brown leather like a map of how far we’d already come. Gav kept sobbing.

“Kae,” Leo said. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

I shook my head. My throat was too tight for me to speak.

“We’re going to check out that town, look for a replacement tire,” he went on. “Me and Justin and Anika. Tobias thinks it’s safer if he stays on his own upstairs. But if you need him, just shout; he’ll come right down. And we’ll try not to be gone too long.”

I nodded. He paused, and then set something down with a clunk on the coffee table. When I glanced over, I saw he’d left me a plate of crackers spread with peanut butter. I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, but seeing the food just made my stomach knot.

They were going to town to find a tire. When they came back, it’d be time to go. Time to leave Gav for good.

A few days ago, Gav had made me promise to keep trying to find someone who could make more of the vaccine, to hold on to that hope. The day after that, I’d looked into his fevered eyes and kissed him and promised I’d stay with him, always. But there was no way we could take him with us, not like this.

A ripping sound pierced the wall. Over and over, as if Gav was tearing up all the pages of all the books in the room. He was murmuring instead of yelling now, but that was almost worse. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, only the low panicked tones of his voice.

Metal screeched against metal. Fingernails scrabbled at the door frame. I squeezed my eyes shut again. And something other than despair lanced through my chest, sharp as a gulp of alcohol.

I raised my arm, wanting to hit something, hard. But that would just scare Gav, and maybe bring Tobias hurrying down. So I held my clenched fist to my mouth instead. I pressed my knuckles against my teeth and bit down until the stinging ache dug just as deep as the fury inside me.

I hated them. Not the virus—I hated it too, but I’d felt that way since the beginning. I hated the people who had forced us into this position. I hated Michael, the man I knew only from Anika’s and my brother Drew’s stories, the man who’d marched across the country gathering like-minded people to guard the food, generators, fuel, and medicine he hoarded, refusing to help anyone who couldn’t pay his price. I hated the doctors who’d gone along with the Wardens instead of standing up to them. The government officials who’d fled. That stupid sick man who’d rushed at us and exposed Gav to the virus.

Epidemic or not, maybe we would have been okay if it hadn’t been for all those people who’d thought only of themselves. And right then, I wished all of them dead.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but at some point, exhaustion took over. I woke up in a dark room. The day had passed, and night crept back in on us. I was still alone, but the fire was crackling behind me, which I guessed meant the others had come back. My neck throbbed when I lifted my head from my knees. And I realized the space on the other side of the wall was finally quiet.

My body went rigid. I stood up, swaying, rested my hand against the chipped plaster, and listened. There was only silence.

I tugged the armoire away from the door. Just far enough so I could slip inside.

Gav was curled up on the rug, as he had been before the hallucinations took over. His blanket lay in a corner, torn down the middle, and shredded papers scattered the floor around him like a deranged nest. His coat hung open, the stitching torn. The desk and chair had been tipped on their sides against the wall.

I knelt down beside him. He lay so still, his shaggy hair drifting over his forehead. The flush of his fever had faded. He could almost have been sleeping.

His skin was cool when I touched his cheek. My hand slid down to hover by his mouth and nose. His lips were parted, but the air was still above them. The tips of his fingers, limp by his face, were raw and bloody. His knuckles too. A smear of blood marked his chin. The wall around the door was dented and scored and dappled scarlet. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

I sank down, setting my head against his chest. No rise and fall of breath. Not the faintest heartbeat. I drew my knees up, huddling against him. My own breath started to sputter out in halting gasps. My eyes burned, but I must have cried all the tears I had already. Nothing came but pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said into the fabric of his shirt. In our island hospital, the patients had lived longer. They’d had doctors making them eat and drink, medication to calm them down, bindings to stop them from wearing themselves ragged.

It was better for it to have happened sooner, if we couldn’t have saved him anyway, wasn’t it? Less horror, less suffering.

I swallowed thickly, tears finally pooling in my eyes. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t
right
. I kicked out at the mess of papers. Even in the dim light, my eyes caught on bloody smudges. I stumbled to my feet, sweeping at the pages with flailing arms, shoving them all away against the wall, fumbling for the scraps I’d missed, wheezing and crying and swiping at my face with my sleeve, but not stopping until the rug was clear.

The surge of energy left me. I dropped to the floor across from Gav, tucking my hand around his wrist.

“I’m here,” I said, my voice watery. “I was here the whole time. I didn’t leave.”

I lay there for the rest of the night, inches from Gav’s motionless body. I couldn’t say I slept, but I couldn’t say I was all there either. I didn’t notice movement beyond the office door, or anything except the stabbing pain inside me, until a crackle of static cut through my stupor.

“Attempting to contact the CDC,” Leo said in the living room. His voice echoed in the radio transceiver’s microphone. “If anyone’s listening, please respond. Over.”

It had been Drew, working as a sort of double agent alongside the Wardens in Toronto, who’d suggested we go to the CDC. But we’d had to leave him at his post in the city. Leo was the only one in our group who was familiar with the center, because he’d been in the US at his New York dance school when the epidemic broke out. He’d said that the CDC had still been operating the last he’d heard.

Now, he waited. Then there was a click as he twisted the dial to a new frequency. I opened my eyes. Gav’s hand felt stiff and cold beneath my fingers. Bile rose in my throat. I pushed myself onto my knees.

“Attempting to contact the CDC,” Leo repeated. I hesitated, afraid to go out, to make what I saw in here that much more real by putting it into words. As Leo worked through the bandwidths, my arms started to tremble.

“Please respond,” Leo said, for what felt like the twentieth time. “Over.” And a guttural voice snaked through the static.

“Vaccine thieves,” it growled. “We’ve been listening for you.”

I flinched, and on the other side of the door, Leo went silent. The voice laughed. “Not interested in talking? We’ll be face-to-face soon enough, kids. You better believe we’re going to track you down, and when we find you we’re going to take what’s coming to us and rip you open from—”