Colony East (29 page)

Jordan’s heart beat faster. He had to ask Wenlan now. He had spent too much time fantasizing that she and CeeCee would return with him to Castine Island. No matter what she replied, he needed to hear the hard truth and move on.

“My sister is the first medical responder on the island,” he began.

“You mentioned that. Abby turned the barber shop into a clinic.”

Jordan cleared his throat. “Would you and CeeCee want to go back with me? Abby would love to get more help.” He heard a tone of defeat in his voice.

Wenlan paused a long moment, which he took as a good sign. The invitation touched her. She also seemed sad, and that, Jordan thought, was a bad sign.

“I can’t leave Mystic,” she said finally. “I’m needed here, and I love what I do.” She gave a little smirk. “Trust me, you don’t want to spend three days in a little boat with me and CeeCee.”

Jordan turned away, blinking back his tears. “Hey,” he said, wanting to change the subject, “why is your sister always laughing at me?”

Wenlan chuckled. “She’s laughing at me.”

Jordan leaned back. “You?”

“Do you remember what it was like to be twelve? CeeCee makes fun of me because I like you. She says I get all nervous around you.” Jordan’s jaw dropped. Then, a little more softly she said, “I wish you wanted to stay in Mystic.”

Wenlan had jolted him twice in as many seconds, and he froze as his heart and mind engaged in a debate.

She hopped off the rock and stood before him. The sun crowned bright orange around her silky black hair and made her eyes even darker. He felt the heat rising in the shadow she cast on him. He didn’t move and hardly took a breath, because maybe this was a dream, and he didn’t want to awaken, but mostly because he was about to give her an answer. The heart spoke best in perfect stillness.

“I think I do,” he whispered. “Yes, I want to live in Mystic, but I have to go back to check on my sisters.”

Wenlan eclipsed the sun as she moved closer to kiss him. He closed his eyes, shutting out all the light, and kissed her back. They were now together on their own private island.

When Jordan opened his eyes, he got his third jolt in as many minutes. CeeCee was standing outside the clinic covering her mouth with her hands.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Colony East

The lieutenant’s voice boomed from the speaker in the ceiling. “Rise and shine, cadets. You are seeds of the new society, Generation M. You have an exciting day ahead of you… ”

Abby shot up in bed, barely paying attention to the droning announcement. The highlight of the day was that Sheraton Company would perform the musical,
Brigadoon
, at Carnegie Hall.

After the national anthem, she turned on the radio and listened to the CDC station while making her bed.

“Do you know that UV rays can penetrate clouds? The CDC offers the following tips to protect yourself from the harmful rays of the sun… ”

Abby snapped it off, finding it incredible that the CDC had not once mentioned AHA-B over the past twenty days, at least during the times she had listened which was in the morning right after reveille and again after lights out, lying in bed with the volume low. Just one official word about the illness was all Abby wanted to hear. Then she could talk some sense into Toby. She could tell him the CDC was letting kids know about the new epidemic, just as they had done after the night of the purple moon.

She worried about Toby not only for his sake, but for her’s and Touk’s as well. The boy she had a crush on was acting recklessly. If he got caught, who knew what would happen?

Toby had taken more foolish chances than she could keep track of, all under the influence of Jonzy Billings, a boy she wished would just go away. Toby always had a gleam in his eye when he described his escapades. She thought he enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around the adults most of all. Abby abhorred violence, but she had to resist punching Toby in the nose on more than one occasion for his antics. He and Jonzy had made a nighttime trip to the Yellow Zone and spent countless hours eavesdropping on radio transmissions from the top floor of the Biltmore. Toby had even bragged that he and Jonzy liked to kick back and listen to The Port at night in the hotel’s former restaurant.

Finished making her bed, she stepped into the flow of cadets streaming by her door and followed them down the stairway to the hotel lobby, where boys and girls poured in from every floor. As she waited in the logjam, her eyes darted to the sign above the suggestion box: All Ideas Are Good Ideas!

She had a good idea. Abandon her peaceful nature and pop Toby a good one in the eye. Maybe then he’d stop playing with fire.

The members of Biltmore Company formed rows in the middle of Lexington Avenue. After Abby took her spot, she saw Toby step outside with his sidekick, Jonzy. Toby craned his neck, looking for her. A chill went down her spine when she saw his troubled expression. Usually he greeted her with a little wave and silly smile, unable to contain himself, eager to tell her about his latest adventure with Jonzy. Something serious was on his mind this morning.

The lieutenant jogged out and everyone snapped to attention. He glanced at his watch, and then scanned the crowd. Abby felt a strange tension crackling among the cadets.

“At ease,” he barked.

After a moment’s pause, he thrust a triumphant fist skyward. “A new record! Fifteen minutes, twelve seconds.”

Cheers erupted around her. With her sister a thousand miles away, Jordan’s whereabouts unknown, and Toby bursting at the seams with some horrible news, Abby couldn't summon any excitement over breaking some stupid record to assemble in front of the Biltmore. She clapped only to act like a part of the crowd.

“Company, DIS…MISSED.”

Toby came over to her and together they walked toward Grand Central Station. Because of their schedules, it was the only time of the day they could speak to each other privately. To the casual observer, Abby thought they would have looked like a couple of goofball siblings, whispering and smiling to each other, but their feigned behavior masked contentious arguments.

“Tropical Storm Caity blew out to sea,” he told her, “but Tropical Storm David just formed. The scientists think it will turn into a hurricane. It might hit us.”

Abby sighed in relief, hoping that was the worst news he had. Tropical Storm David would probably disappear just like the other tropical storms. She imagined a week from now, two weeks from now, Toby would be bringing up future tropical storms Evelyn, Frank, Gabby… whatever they named them… with the same level of fear. And if one did turn into a hurricane and bring the germs here, the scientists would be ready for it. Deep in her heart, she knew the adults cared about everyone.

Toby narrowed his eyes. “Abby, did you hear what I said?”

She gave him a dismissive shrug. “I’m not deaf.”

“Have you listened to the CDC station?”

She looked away. “Maybe.”

“It’s the same old BS.”

“Toby, after the night of the purple moon, they didn’t announce the distribution schedule until two weeks before they sent the pills to the Phase I cities.”

“They told us they were working to develop pills,” he stammered.

Abby geared herself up for this argument, one they had often. She was able to predict everything Toby would say and she could spit back her responses without having to think.

“Abby, I have news about Touk.”

Struggling to breathe, Abby felt her knees wobble. When she stopped, a girl bumped into her from behind. The fifteen-year-old cadet whispered something to her friends and they laughed at Abby as they passed by.

“I have news about us too,” Toby added. They continued walking. “You know how we’re part of a control group? Last night, Doctor Droznin talked with a scientist from Atlanta on what they were going to do with the control groups. If Touk survives, they want to know if it was because of her natural immunity or the antibiotic. They’ll infect us with AHA-B to find out.”

“What?” she exclaimed.

“If Touk lives, they’ll give us the Pig to see if we have natural immunity to it. If Touk dies, they’ll give us the antibiotic. Abby, we’re a couple of lab rats.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Abby tried to imagine her reaction to receiving an antibiotic that would cure her. It would mean that Toucan was dead. It would be easier for her to accept them infecting her with AHA-B on purpose, for that would mean Touk was alive and well, but this involved Toby; he too, would be infected, in his words, like a lab rat.

“They wouldn’t do that!”

“Trust me, they would. They’re adults.”

“We should go to Lieutenant Dawson.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s a company leader. He knows what they’re going to do.”

“Maybe…”

He mocked, “Maybe this is all a big dream. You’re going to wake up and your mommy will be cooking breakfast for you, and your daddy will want to do something fun with you. Well, you better wake up for real. Tonight, Jonzy and I are exploring the subway tunnels.”

Abby’s heart stopped. Still reeling from the news about Toucan, she felt the meanness of his words burning like acid. Just because his father had beat him and his mother had abandoned him, he didn’t have the right to take it out on her. Then he had casually announced he was going into the tunnels.

“The tunnels are a good way to move around the colony,” Toby added. “We have to find a way to escape.”

“Escape? What for?”

“We need to tell everyone what the adults are doing.”

She raised her voice, “What if they catch you?” She lowered it when several cadets looked their way. “Toby, you are not going into the subway tunnels.”

“We have to try something.” He stared in space briefly. “I’m just not sure what.”

“Listen to me,” she whispered frantically. “Stay away from Jonzy.”

“This isn’t the time for your bossy routine.”

Rage exploded inside her chest, triggering a tsunami of anger that swept through her brain. Abby somehow resisted her first impulse to shout at the top of her lungs. Gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw, she hissed, “Toby, I hate you.”

Hurt painted his face and his bottom lip started trembling. He looked at the ground and walked away from her, blending into the line of kids about to slingshot through the revolving doors at Grand Central Station.

Every cell in her body urged her to race after him, apologize, tell him she had spoken out of fear; she didn’t hate him. Abby swallowed hard. She loved Toby. She had to hold herself back so he would understand how serious she was. He needed time alone to think about his behavior. Abby doubled over as tears dribbled off her face, dropping like pearls and splashing on the pavement below. She wanted to go to him so badly.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Mystic

Jordan hauled in the mainsheet and
Mary Queen of Scots
heeled on her side. It had been a month since he’d been shot, and while his thigh was still sore, the wound had healed well enough for him to make the trip to Castine Island. He felt he had good mobility in the sailboat. Pulling the rope more, he tipped the boat even higher, noticing a trickle of water bleeding between the hull and railing. Not a big deal.

He was sailing the boat hard to make sure she would make it all the way. Better to fix a problem in Mystic Harbor than out at sea.

He had found the twelve-foot Day Sailor—
Mary Queen of Scots
painted on the stern—on her side in a sandy cove. The boat, along with many other sailboats, had long ago broken away from its mooring. With no one to help him launch the boat, Jordan dreamed up a brilliant idea. He secured several burlap bags, which he had seen while biking to the harbor, to the side of the hull, and then filled them with rocks. Bracing himself with his good foot, he tilted the boat until it rolled upright. Next, he dug a moat in the sand. After three days of digging, the tide came in, the moat filled, and he pulled
Mary Queen of Scots
into deeper water like she was on wheels.

Jordan shifted his weight and put
Mary
high on her port side. No leaks. He pulled the tiller toward him, so the bow turned away from the wind, and he jibed. Jordan ducked as the boom swung around. Letting the sail flair wide, he ran with the wind to his back. He spotted a few tiny holes in the canvas. They weren't a problem, he judged. The two metal stays holding the aluminum mast in place, he thought, appeared sturdy, and the same for all the winches, hasps, and hooks. He rammed the tiller back and forth, and to his delight, the steering mechanism remained in one piece. Deeming
Mary Queen of Scots
seaworthy, he headed for shore.

At first, the distant whine of the motorboat sounded like a mosquito buzzing in his ear. As it grew louder, the roar of the engines became chillingly familiar. He craned his neck. Against the rosy anvil-shaped clouds of a thunderstorm, far out at sea, a speedboat raced into the harbor.

Jordan had seen other motorboats zip across the harbor over the past week. Every one of them had conjured images of the pirates, but all were false alarms.

With his head throbbing from a cocktail of adrenaline and bloodlust, he watched the skipper throttle back and pull into a slip at the dock. The boat was a whaler. In the dying light, three kids hopped out of the whaler. Two boys and a girl. They skipped along the dock, their laughter, carrying across the water. They crossed the street and entered a house.

Jordan lowered the sail and secured the sailboat in water up to his waist. It was dark when he stood before the house across the street from the dock. Light flickered from lanterns on the second floor. Before the night of the purple moon, the house had been an ice cream shop. You could order cones outside at one of three windows or go inside where there were tables and a counter with stools.

He walked out to the end of the dock, feeling prickly all over, and peered into the whaler. There was enough moonlight to reveal a tarp bunched up at the stern. He climbed into the boat and poked around, looking under the tarp. Unable to see in the darkest corners, he patted his hand along the deck and jabbed his finger on a fishhook. He sucked his finger and spat out the blood.