Torn (15 page)

Cole darted away from Mari and moved toward a staircase that led to the balcony. Now that he was focused on the source of the noise, he could move faster, running with strength. He lost Mari when he vaulted over a wide railing. He looked behind him; she was moving toward the staircase still, but her deftness was no match for his shortcut. He pulled himself up and over, scaling the balcony railings until he was safely on a hovering platform. There it was. A small box. His mother's voice wailing from within it. Cole grabbed the box and tossed it over the railing. It crashed on the stone floor below, splintering into a dozen pieces. The room was filled with an eerie silence.

“Nice work,” said Mari from beside him. “I think you're getting it. Finally. Heart and mind.”

“Heart and mind,” he repeated, ignoring the barb. “How is it that you're such an expert, tucked away from the rest of the world and all?” He was only teasing this time, but the light vanished from Mari's eyes and her mouth formed a grim line.

“Good point,” she said. “What do I know? My best friend is my father.”

Shit. He really hadn't meant to hit a nerve, but it was impossible to talk to this girl. He'd just opened his mouth to respond, when he heard the sound of crying rising up from the ground floor.

“Another illusion?” But Mari shook her head, looking as confused as he was. Still, he didn't quite believe her. If this was his chance to prove himself, he wasn't going to screw it up. The crying grew louder, and Cole darted down the stairs that led from the mezzanine to the ground floor, two steps at a time. As he descended, he identified Vera's voice, loud and anguished, coming from just beyond the front door. Jesus. How far had Mari dug into his personal life to discover Vera? How screwed up was she? He burst through to find Vera huddled on the front porch, filthy and sobbing. Mari followed close on his heels, gasping when she saw her.

“If this is a hologram, this is very messed up,” Cole informed Mari, who just shook her head, her mouth agape.

“I can't take credit for this one,” Mari said, shaking her head. Worry creased her forehead, and her eyebrows knit together. She brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening as she peered around Cole.

“How did you get here?” Cole knelt by Vera, who turned a dirt- and tear-streaked face to him. “Were you looking for me?”

Vera gasped, apparently unable to answer.

“Cole, who is this?” Mari whispered, swaying slightly.

“A friend,” Cole said simply. Vera shifted toward him, and he noticed a crimson stain running down the front of her dress, where it was tucked tightly against her thigh. Mari saw it at the same time, and her face went white. Vera let out another long sob. Cole's heart stopped.

“What happened? Vera—did you lose the baby?” He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. Vera shook her head, and Mari lifted the hem of Vera's skirt and wiped some of the blood away with the corner of her sleeve, revealing a long gash on Vera's thigh. So it wasn't the baby. Cole willed himself to stay calm.

“She'll be okay,” Mari said. She was affecting confidence, but Cole heard the tremor under her breath. “I've been through this before. We didn't have doctors, you know. I broke a leg once, and cut myself in the woods.…” She was babbling.

“Then you can help,” Cole told her firmly, and she nodded.

“It's okay,” he soothed, turning back to Vera. He smoothed her hair from her forehead, which was sticky with sweat and dirt. “We're going to help you. Just catch your breath.” Vera nodded slowly, and Mari knelt, gripping Vera's hand in her own. Vera's eyes widened as she took in Mari's appearance, but Mari didn't flinch. Cole eyed Mari, who was bravely squeezing Vera's hand. It was the likely first Prior she'd ever touched. He knew what it took for her to do it. He saw her as Vera probably did, taking in her disheveled appearance, matted hair, and sun-darkened skin. But to Mari, Vera was equally monstrous, merely for being a Prior. Still, Mari rubbed Vera's wrist with her other palm, and Vera seemed to relax. Soon, her sobs quieted. After a few minutes, her breathing returned to normal. Cole was quiet.

“Thank you,” he said finally, meeting Mari's eyes. Hers were unreadable, but something was different. She nodded in return, and he realized what it was: her face looked vulnerable for the first time since he'd met her. Maybe she'd finally seen the shades between black and white.

“I've been hurting everywhere,” Vera said, shifting so she leaned against Cole rather than the step. He cradled her, staring down at her stomach, which was still rounding out. It was hard to tell, even five months in, that she was pregnant. He hoped Worsley was taking good care of the baby. Something about Worsley had worried Cole lately—it was as if Worsley cared more about his experiments than about the people around him. Pushing this troubling thought aside, Cole focused on Vera's words.

“I get long flashes of pain all over my body,” she continued. “And Thomas can't give me pain medication. He says it's bad for the baby. But I hurt
so much,
all over. That can't be good for my baby, either, right? I can't sleep, Cole,” she said, her eyes welling. “Half the time it's so awful. And then the other half, I feel fine. Normal.” She stopped, her voice catching. Cole eyed her with concern. “I was going to run away all along,” Vera said, her voice heavy. Cole reeled as if he'd been slapped. He could feel Mari looking at him, waiting for his response. Mari smoothed Vera's hair back from her sweaty forehead with her palm. None of this sounded good to Cole.

“I didn't trust you; I didn't know you. Don't you see that? I thought if I returned to Columbus with the cure, I'd be a hero. I thought Worsley might be able to do it, give me the cure, and then I'd run. He told me he was getting close. But now I'm so…” Her voice shook as she trailed off. She didn't have to say it. Cole could plainly see she was falling apart—weak, tired, sick, confused.

“It's okay,” Cole said. “You're panicking.” He thought hard. Did Worsley have any idea how bad it was for Vera? But still—for her to have planned to run away—things were far different than he'd imagined them to be. He'd thought he'd gained her trust.

“I can't even tell what's real anymore.” Vera's voice was now almost a whisper, frantic. “The pain feels like a nightmare. It makes me light-headed. Sometimes, in the mirror, I look the same as always. Then sometimes I look like a different person—gaunt and pale, with sallow skin and bags under my eyes. I don't know if the pain is even real. I cut myself, just to see—”

“You did this to yourself?” Cole interrupted, recoiling.

“I couldn't tell if I was awake or not.” She wept now, her tears washing some of the dirt from her cheeks. “I had to know if it was real. I don't know what to do. Thomas is out, and I took one of the cars from the parking garage. It still had its keys in the ignition. I remembered what he told you about finding Braddock. I followed you two here.” She looked up at Mari, then, her brown eyes bright. “Who are you?” she asked. “Cole, what's going on here? Why are you even at this house?”

Mari looked to Cole.

“She's just training me,” Cole told Vera. “This is Mari, Braddock's daughter. Can I trust you, Vera?” Sometimes, the best way to gain someone's trust was to show you trusted them back. He met Mari's eyes to find her looking hurt.
She's just training me,
he'd said. He wished he could take it back now. Mari was trying to help, despite years of hating Priors—despite all the feelings and beliefs that had stemmed from her mother's death at their hands. As misguided as she'd been, what she was doing now took bravery. He had to respect that. “Mari's helped me a lot,” he amended, watching Mari's eyes flicker in surprise. “I'm going to be competing in the Olympiads. If I win, I'll have enough money to go to Davis at TOR-N.” He watched Vera, waiting for her reaction, knowing how much he was risking.

“You're competing in the Olympiads. For Davis,” she repeated, her eyes wide. “You'd do that all for Davis?”

Cole nodded. “And for my family,” he said. “I just want a better life for us. But Vera, I'm glad you found us. Thomas is the only one who can help you. You need to trust us.”

“I can't go back,” she moaned, burying her face in Cole's shoulder. “You should see him, Cole. He wanted to inject the baby with some sort of solution today—he wouldn't even tell me what it was—to see how she'd react. I screamed and threatened to reveal the location of his lab if he went along with it, and finally he backed out. But I don't know how long I can do this.”

“He'll keep her safe,” Cole assured her. “I promise you. He's doing the best he can for both of you.” But even as he said it, he felt a niggling qualm.
Was
Worsley doing all he could do? Vera looked less healthy than when he'd seen her last—and less cared for. Beyond her dirt- and tear-streaked face, her hair was lank and her nails had grown long. She looked thinner, too; her cheekbones protruded in a way he hadn't noticed before. He hoped desperately that he was reading too much into it, that the physical changes were happenstance.

Anyway, there was no choice. He had to get her back to the lab. “You can't go to a Prior hospital,” he told her. “Not after your parents threw you out. They'll just send you away to one of those research facilities, maybe wherever Davis is. Who knows what they do over there.” He winced at his own words, hoping to God Davis was safe. “You might not even make the journey. You need help now. We'll take you back.” Vera nodded, looking defeated.

“I'll stay with you for a while,” Cole told her. “I'll make sure Worsley's doing everything in his power to keep you and your baby safe. Here, help me,” he said to Mari, lifting Vera gently. Vera wrapped slender arms around his shoulders and rested her face against his neck. He felt her warm breath on his skin. She felt human. Healthy. Alive. Not like someone with Narxis. He prayed she would stay strong.

Cole carried her to the car, Mari running ahead to open the door to the backseat. Once there, he placed Vera gently inside.

“I'm sorry, Cole,” she said to him, her voice faint. “I'm sorry for not trusting you from the beginning.”

“Don't be,” he said, trying his best to smile at her, to hide his worry. “Just stay strong.” Mari slid in afterward, and shifted Vera's head so it lay in her lap. Cole looked at Mari gratefully—she hadn't needed any explanation. “Thank you,” he mouthed at her.

She smiled in return.

He only hoped that, by telling Vera the truth, he'd done the right thing.

 

 

“Oh thank God,” Thomas said, rushing to greet them when Cole slid the car into a spot near the lab and killed the engine. Cole breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't wanted to drive; it was too easy for him to be spotted. But Mari didn't know how, and even though Vera did, she was in no condition. He'd taken one-way back roads and put his hood up to conceal his identity, but every time another car passed, his blood had run cold.

Worsley flung the back door open and reached for Vera, ignoring Mari entirely. “Vera! Where did you run off to? You could have been hurt! Oh, God,” he continued. “You are hurt. Is it the baby?”

“It's her leg, Tom,” said Cole. “It's just a deep scratch. You'll need to disinfect it. This is Mari, Braddock's daughter,” he said, motioning to Mari. Worsley nodded distractedly in her direction but didn't say hello. Cole gritted his teeth. It was as though Worsley didn't care anything about the baby—only the testing, Cole realized.

“Wait,” he told Worsley, after they'd carried Vera inside and Tom reached for his medical supplies. “First I need to talk to you.” He settled Vera on her cot, and Mari rushed to the sink to pour her water. Cole felt another unexpected flash of warmth toward the girl.

“I'll take care of her,” she told him. “You go.”

Nodding, Cole grabbed Worsley's arm and pulled him back outside.

“She's having a hell of a time,” he hissed. “Hallucinations or something. She's out of her mind. What are you doing to her? It's time to end this, Tom. It's not worth it. Something's obviously not right!”

Worsley ran a hand over his face, his eyebrows furrowing. “I'd end it if I could,” he whispered. “I expected this. But not to this extent. Believe me, there's nothing I want more than for this baby to be born in peace. But it's too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” Cole's heart sank. If Davis came back and found that Cole had let her down—had let something awful happen to her best friend, when it could have been prevented—he'd never forgive himself.

“It's not too late for her,” Worsley corrected. “She could be—she
will
be—fine, if I monitor her closely. It's just too late to go back. She's already entered phase two. I've injected the baby with Narxis.”

Cole stepped back, stunned.

“What?” he uttered. “You didn't even run it by me.”

“And why should I?” Worsley argued, his eyes hard. “I know what I'm doing, Cole. You'd only get in the way.”

“So is that what shipping me off to Braddock was all about?” Cole raised his voice, and Worsley placed a hand on his shoulder. Cole shrugged it off, stepping back. “No,” he said, furious. “This isn't okay. What's happened to you?”

“Cole! Stop shouting. You're only going to scare her.”

Cole gritted his teeth, fighting to stay calm.

“You need to trust me. Or if not me, trust science. I'm on the cusp of a breakthrough! If we just stick this out, think of all the lives we'll save.”

Cole stared at Worsley. His last sentence had seemed canned, as if uttered from a script. Worsley's eyes glittered as he spoke. He believed in what he was saying, Cole realized. But was his excitement for the cure, or for some sort of fame he was hoping to achieve?