Torn (19 page)

She couldn't help sounding awestruck. “It looks a little like Columbus from the monorail … except bigger.” Skyscrapers rose toward the sky and stretched in seemingly endless rows before them. In the fog of the night, their lines were blurred, and their windows resembled a sea of glittering eyes. Davis's pulse accelerated. It wasn't home, but it felt close enough to Columbus to move her.

Light projections crisscrossed above the buildings, heralding theater productions and broadcasting the faces of movie stars. It was a cluster of beautiful chaos. Davis felt more alive than she had in months.

“There are the primary research facilities,” Mercer told her, pointing out three behemoth buildings with tall, red-lit spires. They were too far away to see people, but in a city like this, Davis imagined the streets would be teeming. “That's where our answers are.”

“It's stunning,” Davis breathed.

“It's the best city on earth,” Mercer said quietly.

“Only 'cause you haven't seen Columbus,” Davis teased.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. She knew what it was like to miss home. “So what are we waiting for?”

Neither of them talked about what would happen when they found Dr. Hassman and delivered to him the samples he needed. Neither of them mentioned the kiss, or what it meant, or what it would mean to be separated again. But the way Mercer looked at her just then, his eyes full of feeling, she knew it meant a lot. It would be painful for them both.

As they drew closer, Davis felt her anxiety steadily increasing. Mercer, on the other hand, was walking several paces ahead of her, more eager than ever.

The sight of a big city triggered flashbacks of the last time she was in Columbus, fleeing from patrolmen. This situation—sneaking into another heavily patrolled city—was no safer. “Are you sure Jan's going to help us?” she asked, suddenly doubtful. The thought of getting thrown back in quarantine—or worse—put her nerves on edge. She fought against her anxiety, taking a deep breath and standing tall. She had to fake confidence, even if she didn't feel any. This was happening, and she needed to be strong.

Mercer casually slung an arm around her shoulders, rubbing them to keep her warm. “I'm positive,” he said. “She's getting us IDs. Once we're past the checkpoint, we're fine. I spent my whole life here as a Neither; both of us still pass for Priors. Getting in is the hardest part, and we've got that covered.” Davis nodded, but his words didn't entirely vanquish the heady doubt she felt. “We're picking them up just south of Checkpoint A. They're going to be inside an old outhouse just outside the city border. If they're not there, we'll know something happened. We just turn around. If they're there, we're clear. It's less than a mile from here,” he told her, lifting her chin with a finger. “Hang in there for a little while longer.”

 

 

They approached the outhouse quietly. Davis's heart was in her throat as Mercer reached into its rusted exterior, withdrawing a thin white envelope and a change of clothes for each of them. He wrinkled his nose as he did. Davis grimaced. She didn't want to know what the inside of an ancient outhouse looked like, but she gratefully accepted the blue sundress and sandals Mercer extended toward her. Mercer opened the envelope and grinned, waving them in the air.

“Told you,” he whispered, pushing his thumb against the digitized plastic to activate it, and nodding for Davis to do the same. “Nothing to worry about.”

They pocketed their activated cards and retreated the way they'd come, stopping behind some trees to quickly change before approaching the security checkpoint from the mining side of the outskirts. Davis swept her hair up in a ponytail; it was the best she could do. But looking at Mercer and seeing his appreciative glance, she thought they could pass for normal again. They'd already planned to say they'd gone to the mines outside of Durham for research for a school project, if the patrols asked why two teenagers were wandering outside the city limits.

“IDs,” the officer said in a gruff tone as they approached. He held out a meaty palm, eyeing Davis from head to toe without reservation. She found herself tensing as he examined her photo. For the first time, she wondered how far the news of her episode with Cole had traveled. She'd assumed it would stay in Columbus—it was rare that they were privy to the goings-on in other territories—but watching the man's eyes narrow as he took in her information ignited fresh panic. She breathed audibly when he nodded and handed the small digitized card back to her.

He accepted Mercer's next, his eyes narrowed. “Just a minute.” The officer stood and approached his colleague, muttering something low as he showed the other man Mercer's ID. Mercer and Davis exchanged anxious looks. Of the two of them, Mercer looked the most similar to his identification picture. Davis had dropped at least ten pounds from her illness, and her hair wasn't as lustrous as it had been in the photo used for her own ID. Hers was the risky one. His had been the safe bet.

The two officers returned to the checkpoint. The one wielding Mercer's ID was frowning. “You'll need to move through the DNA reader,” he said, gesturing toward a short line that was forming to their left, in front of an elaborate metal gateway. “Standard procedure.” Davis watched as lasers scanned the figure of a slim, middle-aged Prior. The machine beeped green and a patrolman waved her through to Durham.

“Is that really necessary?” Mercer asked, drawing up to his full height.

“'Fraid so,” said the officer. “Random screening. We can't have non-Priors entering Durham.”

“I'm a personal friend of Chris Thurber's,” Mercer said in an authority-laden tone. Davis drew back, surprised. Her own palms were sweating from fear—if he stepped through the machine, it would definitely give them away—but Mercer's body language conveyed confidence, authority, and irritation.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Mercer told him. “And we have an appointment scheduled. I can't wait in a line. I don't have time for this. And frankly, I'm insulted by the implications of this testing.”

“No one's saying you're not a Prior,” the guy said, rolling his eyes. “Like I said. It's standard.”

“Then I'm sure you can make an exception for a close friend of the Thurbers,” Mercer pressed, his face adopting a look of determination. He stared at the patrolmen directly, his gaze unfaltering. His stance was wide, his shoulders squared. He was the picture of confidence and authority.

“Look,” the patrolman said, his face turning a little red. “You don't have time for that line, but I don't have time for this conversation. Save us all a little trouble and just go through the checkpoint. Unless there's something you're trying to hide?”

“Merkin.” The patrolman, still clutching Mercer's ID, swiveled at the sound of his name. His colleague was squinting over the ID. “Hold up a second.” The second patrolman motioned to Davis to hand over her own ID, and her heart seized.

“They're special clearance,” he said to Merkin. “Let 'em through.”

Merkin looked at the light blue indicator that flashed in the corner of the IDs. Davis hadn't even known what it meant, and she sensed from the look of relief that passed over Mercer's face just briefly that he hadn't either. Merkin gritted his teeth and motioned them through, glaring, without another word.

“Thank you, sir,” Mercer said as they passed, without a hint of condescension.

They were through.

“How did you do that?” Davis asked as they crossed the narrow path that led from the gateway into the city proper. “You were so … Prior snobby.”

“I lived among Priors, as a Prior, my whole life,” Mercer reminded her. “Did you forget so quickly what it was like?”

She had forgotten, a little. Even though her whole life she had believed she was a Prior, she'd always felt a little removed, as though no one fully understood her. Still, she'd been able to function easily in that world because it was all she'd known. But now, entering the city, she saw it as more than just a different city. It was a different
life.

Tall, Nordic-looking Priors milled around her, mixing with dark beauties and muscular redheads. All were different, but all possessed the same level of physical perfection: whether built for athleticism or delicate enough for the runway, they were perfect specimens, designed for what they excelled at. Davis had known it would be like this. But she was unprepared for her shocking feeling of inadequacy.

“Are we going to your family's place?” she asked Mercer, drawing her shoulders back in an effort to mimic his confident stride.

“First to Jan's,” he told her. “Jan Thurber's,” he added.

“So that wasn't just a story?”

“‘Friend' was a bit of an exaggeration,” he admitted. “I'm close to Jan, but I've only met her father a couple of times. I'm glad she was able to pull this off.”

“Is it far?”

Mercer shook his head. “Just around this next block.” He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, seeming to sense her anxiety.

Durham stretched out around them in a grid of skyscrapers, much like Columbus, with the exception of the coast—which could be seen from nearly every angle. The beautiful water lapped at the sides of long boardwalks, reminding Davis how much of the land had eroded over the last one hundred years. It was breathtaking, almost like an island but rife with skyscrapers, which made her feel right at home. So Davis wasn't surprised when Mercer led her into a towering apartment building. They shot up fifty stories in a glass-bottomed elevator, and then the doors opened onto an elaborately decorated foyer.

“It's beautiful.” Davis motioned to a watercolor she recognized by a prominent modern artist whose name she couldn't place.

“De Ville,” Mercer told her. “The Thurbers are collectors.” He pressed the doorbell and they waited as the security monitors read their faces. Less than a minute later, a pretty blonde girl threw open the door and hurtled into Mercer's arms.

“I'm so happy to see you!” she said into his shoulder. “How are you? Are you okay? Are you sick?” She pulled back, looking Mercer over from head to toe. “I'd never know you were sick. What was it like there? I'm so glad you're back safe.” Her voice was thick, as if she was trying not to cry.

“I'm better now,” Mercer told her. “Davis and I both are. But it was a long road. TOR-N was…” He trailed off, averting his eyes. “Let's talk about it later, okay?” He reached back for Davis's hand, pulling her closer.

“If you're worried about my parents, they're away all week at a conference,” she said, pulling him to her—and away from Davis—once again. Davis averted her eyes; she didn't know why she felt a pang at their closeness, but it was unmistakable.

“I just can't talk about it now,” Mercer replied. “I can't believe I'm home. I want to soak it up,” he murmured into Jan's neck. “We owe you big for the IDs. How are my parents?” he asked suddenly. “I thought they'd be here.”

“They don't know you're back yet,” Jan said, looking sad. “After the way you guys left it … they were deeply hurt, Mercer, when you ran away. I thought you'd want to handle it yourself.”

He nodded. “Thank you. You've done so much.”

“Don't think about it,” she said, finally releasing him. “Of course I would do anything for you. Just like you would for me.”

“I would.”

“Exactly.” She turned to Davis, fixing her with a bright smile, her thick eyebrows knitting together. She was an unorthodox beauty, with a gap in her teeth that only accentuated her good looks—Davis had to assume it was there on purpose. “You must be the friend! So good to meet you.” She extended a palm and Davis took it, but Jan withdrew it almost immediately, turning back to Mercer. “Are you sure you're feeling all right? How did they treat you there?” she asked. “I'm guessing not well or you wouldn't have wanted to bust out of there.”

“Let's talk about it later,” said Mercer. “Tell me what's been happening in Durham. And Columbus, if you've heard anything. That's where Davis is from.” Davis smiled at him gratefully. She'd been dying for news.

“We have
so
much to catch up on!” Jan exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “Come in, come in! You have no idea what's been happening since you've been away. Keith Sterns is dating Emory.
Emory.
Right?” She laughed at the expression on Mercer's face. The two walked ahead of Davis, arm in arm, leading the way through a modern living room decorated in more watercolors by the same artist as in the foyer, if Davis was right about the style. Davis trailed after them, impatient, although Mercer turned, shooting her an apologetic look. She knew Mercer was happy to be home, and she knew Jan had been dying to see him, but maybe Jan didn't realize the significance of why they were there. Maybe Mercer hadn't told her everything. For her part, Davis wanted to get right to the laboratories. She wanted to get answers as soon as possible. She couldn't help but feel a wave of irritation at Jan's small talk—Jan clearly didn't understand what was at stake.

“Davis, where did you say you were from?” Jan asked a few minutes later, when they were seated across from one another at the family's long dining table. Davis sipped the hot chocolate Jan had given her. It was the best thing she'd tasted in months; at TOR-N, they'd had very limited sustenance—some vitamin shakes and a bit of produce here and there. Once, they'd had chicken. Nothing sweet or indulgent.

“Columbus,” Davis reminded her. “It's a lot like this, from what I can tell.”

“Oh no,” Jan laughed, sharing a look with Mercer. “Durham is much better!”

Davis's fingers tightened around the mug. “You've been?” She didn't know why this girl was irritating her. It wasn't fair, given how kind Jan had been to help them out. Davis told herself she was being irrational. Still, to hear Jan so casually insult the city she loved and missed every single day was difficult.