Breathe (22 page)

“Quinn’s alive?”

“Petra’s taken him,” Silas says, looking away. “I don’t know what she plans to do with him.” He’s keeping something from me, I can tell.

“Silas?” I ask.

He drops his head. “It’s Inger,” he says, and I realize why Silas looks so sad. I want to reach out a hand to comfort him, but I know it wouldn’t be a comfort at all. “They took away his air and that was that. He’s—” he tries. “I should’ve left the pod on my own. I should’ve left
him
alone. It’s just that he was a tracker, and I wanted to make sure I found you, and …” He sinks to the floor and holds his head between his arms. I look at the fragments of dummy strewn across the floor, then crouch down next to Silas. I know this feeling, and I know it doesn’t matter what I say. I won’t be able to relieve his hurt. Or his guilt. I saw Silas and Inger together, and it was obvious how they felt. Inger is dead because Silas loved him. Abel is dead because I wanted him to love me. I feel connected to my cousin. And I wish I didn’t.

The door bursts open and Petra marches in, closely followed by Jazz. She takes one look at the flickering light, reaches for a shotgun on the rack, and shoots it. Glass and plastic rain from the ceiling. I close my eyes, then shake shards of light bulb from my hair. Couldn’t she have simply switched it off? Silas and I stand up. His eyes are dry, but he is biting the insides of his cheeks.

“I am losing my patience!” Petra screams.

Silas puts a hand up to stop her. “We can rebuild somewhere else,” he says.

“You won’t defend The Grove?” she asks. For a moment Petra’s face shows no sign of rage; she is simply brokenhearted.

“With what? Two hundred outcasts? We need tanks. Not just one. We need twenty. Most of all we need people.”

“What about the trees?” she asks. Jazz takes Petra’s hand and the two of them look down at the floor. A long moment passes before anyone speaks: we are thinking about the trees in the stadium standing tall and noble—beautiful and totally vulnerable. They will be the first to die because they are the biggest threat. Then Petra says, “I won’t make prisoners of long-serving members. You may leave whenever you wish. But do not mention any of this to the others. I won’t have mayhem here.” Silas nods. “Well,
we
won’t go, will we?” She looks down at Jazz, who smiles hesitantly.

“Bea and Quinn. You’ll let them go, too?” I ask.

“Who? The Premium and the girl? No, of course not,” Petra says, waving away the suggestion.

“They’ll be fine here,” Silas tells me.

“They won’t. They’ve been pod dwellers their entire lives. And they saved my life. I can’t leave them behind.”

Petra, watching me, says, “So you’ll stay. You’ll stay and fight.”

“That Premium I brought in is more valuable than you know. Maybe with his help we
could
be ready. Maybe he could buy us time,” Silas says. He looks up at the ceiling for several moments, then nods resolutely. “Maybe he could buy us a couple of weeks and we recruit in the meantime,” he says.

“I’m listening,” Petra says.

When Silas has finished explaining that Quinn’s father is probably the army’s general and that Quinn has just watched him murder Inger, Petra is wild with rage; her neck goes red and she grinds one fist into the other hand. She intends to hurt Quinn regardless of how ashamed he feels. She intends to get revenge. Silas lets her rant. We watch as she boils up and simmers down again.

He insists there’s a better way to use Quinn. And when he hears about Maude his plan solidifies; he has a way to use her, too.

Within an hour, Silas has come up with a scheme that could save everyone.

It must be morning, though I’ve no way of telling. All I know is that we’ve been in here for hours without water, light, food, or sufficient air. Maude couldn’t keep down the fruit either, and the cell stinks. Her movements are getting slower. She won’t even sit up anymore but lies dozing on the floor, rattled out of sleep every hour or so by a nightmare. I’ve tried to sleep myself, sitting up against the wall with Maude’s head in my lap, stroking her matted hair and listening to her breathing.

I have no idea which side I’m on anymore. I know the Ministry keeps us down, keeps my parents working day and night, keeps us pumped full of oxygen so we’ve no way of surviving without Breathe, and in the pod I’ll never be in a position to help my parents unless I marry a Premium, but at least there was the illusion of liberty. The Resistance claims to stand for freedom and justice, despite the fact that so far they haven’t shown us any mercy—and I’m certainly not free. They fed me, but they don’t care about Maude at all.

Alina would remind me of Maude’s ugly past, her part in the destruction of the trees. What does that matter now? She’s no harm to anyone and anyway, I can’t marry the two images of Maude in my mind: the killer and the dwindling woman I now hold in my arms. I try singing little songs to her, songs my mother sang to me when I was a child. She seems less agitated when I sing.

“Baby’s boat’s a silver moon sailing in the sky,

Sailing o’er a sea of sleep while the stars float by.

Sail, baby, sail out upon that sea,

Only don’t forget to sail back again to me.”

The door is flung wide open. They’re dragging Maude from the room, her head bumping on the floor like an old soccer ball, and without thinking, I leap at them. “Get off her! She’s sick.” To my surprise they do as I say and stand back. Petra enters the room, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I’d be quite happy to use her blood as war paint. But you care about her. And he cares about you. So you survive a little longer.” I have no idea what she means and I’m too concerned about Maude to unravel riddles. “Leave the hag and bring the girl. I’ll get the boy. We’ll meet in The Symposium.”

Now it’s me being hauled from the room, and Maude is awake and squinting at me in fright, her arms outstretched, pleading with me not to leave her.

“Please give her water. Don’t let her die this way,” I say as they strap a mask onto my face. Petra moves toward Maude and glares down at her.

“We’ll water her,” Petra tells me. “And wash her. She reeks.”

Minutes later I’m alone in an oxygenated meeting room and they’ve taken away the airtank again so I can’t leave. I’ve been planted in a chair at an old wooden circular table facing away from the door. I try to remember what Petra said when she came into the bunker. Something about me caring for Maude and that being important. Why shouldn’t I care about Maude? Haven’t they worked out we’re not the villains?

The door rattles. I don’t turn around to see who’s coming in. I’ve decided I’m going to appear indifferent because it’s obvious that it’s my own foolish compassion for everyone I meet that’s my enemy. I need Petra to think I don’t care about anyone else and maybe that I don’t even care about myself.

“I’m not one for sentimental reunions, so I’ll be waiting outside.” It’s Petra. I hear the shuffling of feet and the door closes. The room is heavy with silence, and it seems to swell the longer I sit there. Still I don’t look around because it feels like a trick. I stare at the broken clock on the wall instead. I have no idea how many minutes pass without my moving an inch or letting even a scintilla of sound pass my lips. And I would have stayed this way, I’m sure, if my stomach hadn’t given me away. It gurgles loudly and that’s when a voice fills the room.

“Hello?” he says, and I know, without turning around or hearing even a fraction of another syllable that it’s him. I throw my chair back. Quinn is standing next to the door. He’s blindfolded, his hands bound. He looks tired, but he’s alive.

“Quinn!” I gasp and run to him. I imagined this scene in my mind—I replayed it over and over again. I thought I knew how I’d react. I thought I would run into his arms. But now, I come to a halt inches from where he’s standing and carefully untie his blindfold so he can see me. When he does, he shakes his head and presses his lips together.

“Bea,” he whispers, and steps closer. I feel his breath on me, and shift my weight into my heels, creating a little more space between us. His face is covered in bruises. I reach out, and he closes his eyes. He flinches when I touch the scab on his chin.

“You made it,” I say. Neither of us speaks, really looking at each other for the first time.

“Alina’s cousin found me,” he says at last. He opens his mouth to say something more and stops himself. He shakes his head, then tries again. “I’ve got so much … so many things to tell you. I made the Leadership Program … it was fixed. And that’s not the worst of it. When I tell you who I am, who I belong to, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never … well, if you never wanted to see me again.”

“You’re alive,” I say, allowing my weight to fall back into my toes and our noses to touch. And that’s when it happens: he kisses me. I expect him to pull away, to keep the kiss platonic, but he doesn’t; his lips stay locked to mine until I feel them part slightly and Quinn breathes into me. I reach my arms up, fold them behind his neck, and press my body into his. Finally he steps back and looks at me again.

“You have green eyes. I never noticed that,” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “They’ve always been green.”

And he kisses me again.

Petra leads us all into The Symposium and I get a good look at Quinn sitting at the other end of the table, Bea nestled against him. He no longer looks like someone I can make fun of. In fact, I wonder if it’s really him.

“Sit down,” Petra commands. Silas and I sit at the table opposite Bea and Quinn. Jazz is in the middle next to Petra, and Roxanne and Levi are opposite them. Quinn nods at me shyly before turning to Bea. She has been locked in a dark bunker for twelve hours, yet she looks more alive than ever.

“What’s the status?” Petra asks Roxanne and Levi, who’ve been out scouting the area all morning. Roxanne clears her throat and rubs her uncovered eye with her thumb. When she stops, it’s red and watering.

“We suspect a full attack very soon. There’s been gunfire and sporadic explosions no more than three miles from here, very close to the city center,” she says. “They’re basically destroying anything standing.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Silas says.

Petra turns to Levi. “And what do you think?” she asks.

“They’re on to us,” Levi says. He folds his arms across his broad, bare, tattooed chest and gives Quinn a glare of pure hatred.

Petra waves her hand in Quinn’s direction. “Silas seems to think that this Premium parasite may be related to a ranking officer. Were you able to find out anything?”

“General Jude Caffrey
is
in command of the entire army.” Bea takes a sharp breath. Quinn shifts in his chair. After a moment, Bea puts her arm around Quinn.

“You understand my dilemma. We can’t simply let him go,” Petra says, looking at Silas and me now. I don’t speak and neither does Silas. This isn’t a question and we already know what’s coming. In fact, this whole conversation is more for effect than anything else: we’ve already negotiated a plan; we know exactly what’s going to have to happen for Bea and Quinn to be allowed to leave The Grove. Petra continues. “So this is the deal: the Premium and his girlfriend will be allowed to leave.” Bea blushes. “You will get yourselves rescued by the army and tell them you found a way to escape. Then you’ll lead dear old dad away from us to give us time to prepare. And I mean
far away
. We will discuss details. As soon as Roxanne and Levi see that the army has been misinformed of our whereabouts, the two idiots who brought everyone here will be free to stay or go, as well as the hag downstairs.”

“Maude Blue?” Quinn asks, looking at Bea.

“I will get word to you in the pod that I’m satisfied, that I’ve released the old lady. Then you can both get on with your ignorant lives. If I’m not satisfied, I’ll kill her—and eventually I’ll kill you. Whether or not you eventually give us away is up to you. I presume you will. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all,” Petra says. She’s underestimating Bea and maybe she’s underestimating Quinn, too. They would both make excellent Resistance fighters if they were given the chance.

“You promise you won’t let Maude die in the meantime?” Bea asks.

“We promise,” Jazz says, speaking up.

Bea smiles, totally satisfied with this pint-size guarantee. “We’ll do it,” she says.

What she doesn’t know is that it doesn’t matter whether they drag the Ministry off the scent for a few days or not; Petra will see to it that Maude Blue lives on, at least until the old drifter helps us carry out the second part of our plan.

Jazz stands up and skips toward Bea and Quinn. She is smiling and as she raises her hand to Bea’s face I think she’s going to stroke her, but instead, she digs her nails into Bea’s skin and draws four scratches across it. Quinn jumps up to defend Bea, but he can’t because his hands are still tied behind his back. Jazz turns to him and coolly socks him square in the mouth. There is a crack as Quinn falls back into his chair. Now it’s my turn to stand up.

“We didn’t discuss this. It wasn’t in the agreement!” I yell. Petra squints and presses her lips together. Silas takes my elbow and pulls me back into my chair. “Bea doesn’t deserve this,” I hiss so only he can hear me.