Evolution (11 page)

I stop sewing and look at him, my mouth falling open.

"Shakespeare," he informs me.

"Again?" I say, making my voice light. 
"You must really like him.  Him?  Her?"

"Him," he says.  "William."

I force my hand to stop shaking and jab the needle through
Jonas' skin, biting my bottom lip.  Why is Apollon blaming Jonas'
drunkenness on love?  Has Jonas said something to him?  Is he drunk
because of me?  It seems a million years ago he saw Matt holding my
hand.  But it was only this morning.  The final question slams into
my brain.  Does Jonas love me?

I duck my head and hunt blindly through tears for the other
side of Jonas' cut, hoping that Apollon won't notice.

"Don't worry," he says absently.  "He
does this every once in a while, for as long as I've known him.  When it
gets to him, I guess.  He just hasn't figured out how to let the past
go."

I glance at him, and he's looking thoughtfully away. 
Apollon doesn't know.  I
am
Jonas' past.

The explosions outside have long since stopped. 
Earlier, Apollon had a peek out and declared that everything was still
standing.  But the influx of wounded Outposters has kept us too busy to
worry about what's outside.  We know we're still here, still alive.  Matt's
plan must have worked.  It's halfway through the night, and I've gained a
lot of experience in sewing people up.  I put the remains of my supplies—a
needle and the empty alcohol bottle—back in the cabinet, and stagger toward the
fireplace.  I flop down beside Apollon, groaning.  My eyes wander
over Jonas.  He hasn't budged.

The door opens, and I prepare to scrape myself off the floor
to help the late-comers, but I freeze where I'm at.  Matt glances around,
fixes on me, and walks toward us.  He stops in front of us, thumbs hooked
in his pockets, and gazes down at me.  "I thought I'd find you
here.”  His eyes flick to Apollon.  His mouth turns down
disapprovingly, but he says nothing.

I glance at Apollon and start to get up, but my limbs are
suddenly so tired.  "They saved me from the tree," I manage as
Matt offers his hand and pulls me to my feet.  "And dug me out."

His eyes skim over me, briefly concerned, but I'm not
wounded.  Jonas took all that.  I glance down at him despite myself.

Matt's eyes follow mine.  He grimaces at the slash of
bandages across Jonas' back.

"Cable."

"I swear I didn’t tell the tree to do it," Matt
says, a smile flicking at the corners of his mouth, but even if it
was
funny I'd be too tired to laugh.

He must sense the dangerous turn my mood is taking.  He
puts his hand on my back and gently guides me toward the door. 
"Let's go home.  You need some rest."

I let him lead me, glancing back at Apollon, then at the
dark circles under Matt's eyes.  "Me?" I say.  "You
look like hell."

"I feel like it, too," he admits as we move
outside into the darkness.

The intense chill in the air hits me with enough force to
keep me awake and on my feet a little while longer.  Our footsteps crunch
down the alley, uncertain in the black void.

"So your plan worked again?"  At the end of
the alley I peer around for some sign of how it all played out.

He nods, and we walk on.  The Outpost is dead
quiet.  A remnant of smoke lingers on the air.  We cross the main
road and I catch a glimpse of Sentry steel and aether shimmer through the
hanging Outpost gate.  I want to get a closer look, but I'm too tired to
even suggest it.  Matt must be, too, because neither of us manage the
slightest utterance the rest of the way home.  Opening the door and moving
into the fire-lit warmth feels like the brink of relief.  I can't wait to
get up those stairs and into my bed.  But Matt catches my arm and pulls me
back.  Tugs me into his arms, wrapping them tight around me.  If he
thinks now is a good time for romance, he's got another thing coming.

"Eden," he whispers into my hair.  I’m
squeezing my palms between us, pushing him back, but the look on his face stops
me.  He looks... broken.  I gaze up at him and tears fill my eyes,
though I don’t know why.

He swallows, then says my name again, "Eden...."

I frown up at him, trying to stop the swell of emotion that
threatens to overtake me.  Whatever he’s going to say, I just
know
it’s going to be…

"My plan worked," he says, nodding as if to assure
me.  But his voice is hollow, and the light that was in his eyes earlier
is replaced with an infinite sadness.  "But... it's not
enough."  He swallows again, hard.  "I need you to
go.  Stop them.  If you can."

After my long wait for these words, this should be a moment
of relief.  Of joy.  To some degree, it is.  But there's a deep,
heavy sorrow underneath that I never expected, and it’s not just coming from
him.  Fear.  Dread.  These catch me off guard, but not
Matt.  He draws me closer again, wrapping his arms around me, holding me like
I’m the only thing that matters.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.  Even the whisper
is choked with pain.  "I would never send you out there if I thought
there was any other choice.  I swear it."

For a moment, bewildered, I allow myself to take comfort in
his arms.  I rest my head against his chest and blink at the wall. 
Fluttering eyelashes chasing away tears.  I try to sort through the
emotions and decide what to do or say next.  Surely there is a correct
answer.  One that will convince Matt that he has made the right decision,
alleviate his fears, and end with me getting the hell out of here.  That's
what I want, right?  I can feel my legs aching to run, even now.  The
writhing pain in my chest is only the rush of emotion that comes with
relief.  But the words that come out of my mouth surprise me. 
"…But you got rid of them.  It still worked.  Why are you afraid
now?"  I draw back so I can look at his face.  He does look so
tired.

He shakes his head slowly, his fingers pressing into my
arms.  "I'll show you in the morning," he says.  "You
need to rest now."  He tugs me forward and places a little kiss on my
forehead, his lips lingering there as though committing the moment to
memory.  "Go to sleep, Eden.  You're going to need it."

His face is set, brave, decisive, but his eyes are filled
with conflict, with regret.  I close my mouth on my reply, turn, and climb
the stairs.  As I head toward my room, toward the bed I have been longing
to fall into, I consider leaving it behind.  I consider sleeping on cold
roads filled with danger.  I consider the Outpost fading from my memory as
though it has been erased.  That's when I realize that this place I have
been trying to leave is filled with everything that I know.  And doesn't
that make it home?

***

Matt and I crunch through the blanket of snow in the
half-light of sunshine filtered through clouds.  The hood of my coat is
up, tickling my face with silken rabbit fur.  The noise of our steps
disrupts the distant whistle of whirling winds.  We don't talk.  Both
of us are quiet in anticipation of what we will see.

The guards open the gate enough to let us slip
through.  My eyes scan the open space before the wall, where I can see
half-buried shapes of metal fallen in the snow.  Our Sentries are moving
around them.  One picks up a large piece—it looks like the bottom half of
a Sentry—and carries it toward us.  Its footsteps are so much louder than
ours.

I glance past it at the others and see movement off in the
distance.  I squint.  That's when I realize that Sentries are
scattered all the way past the curve of the wall.  Lots of them. 
More than I ever counted in the Outpost.  And there are still the ones
stationed inside the gates.  I frown and look at Matt.

"We've been making more," he says. 
"That was the plan.  That's what all the metal was for."

"You made more Sentries?" I ask in
disbelief.  "
Made
them?"

He nods as we begin to walk along the wall.  "It
wasn't that hard once we had one to work from.  I mean, we probably
couldn't have done it without Miranda, but with her it was a breeze.  Coyote
Dan and Lloyd were able to forge all the parts.  So it was just the
resources that limited us."

I laugh under my breath and shake my head.  "Only
you would have thought to make more Sentries."

"Hey," he says, "it worked.  And I hoped
that it would be enough.  You know.  A Sentry goes down, another one
automatically comes to check out what happened.  One for one.  If
that was it, we'd just keep sucking in the Sentries, taking them down,
recycling their parts, and we'd get stronger and stronger.  Right?"

I stop and turn to him.  "But it's not," I
say quietly.  "Surely you suspected it, too.  But last night,
you found out for certain."  I glance around at the aftermath of the
battle.  The wall is crumbling again in places.  I consider the
voice.  "They're smarter than we think."  I shiver despite
myself.

Matt nods grimly and gestures toward the distance. 
"C'mon."

We walk along in silence, and I decide I probably don't want
to see what he's going to show me.  But I have to see it.  I try to
steel myself.

As we start around the curve, Matt says, "The first
time, there was a one-for-one response.  Automatic, I suppose.  Maybe
they weren’t aware we'd reprogrammed ours.  We hadn’t given ours any new
capabilities yet— that was still in the works.  But between our equal
force of Sentries and my men pulling crystals, we were able to overtake them
without too much trouble.”  He hesitates for a moment.  “This
time….”  He wipes one hand through his hair as we walk.  “We rebuilt
the ones from the first battle and added them to our force.  We gave them
new capabilities— the guns.  Thank god for that.  But given all that,
their response was not one-for-one.  They sent considerably more than what
we had.  Except…  we still outnumbered them, because we had the ones
we’d been making.  I have them working underground, Eden.  So no one
could have seen them.”

I swallow hard.  “Seen them?  You think… you think
they’re
watching
us?”

He shakes his head.  “I don’t know.”

“But...” I sputter.  “But will they know now? 
Next time, will they send more than we can handle?”

His jaw is tight, twitching.  He's looking straight
ahead.  I follow his gaze to a pile of metal.  It's too big to be the
remains of a single Sentry.  At first I think it must be several that fell
together, but then I see that the metal is darker than Sentries usually
are.  There is something else—glass, maybe.

I frown.  "...What's that?"

We walk toward it.  "I think it's one of the
flying things that brings
erasees
to the drop zones," he says
quietly.

My eyes go wide.  "Flying things?  Like in
the old stories?"  I thought this was all a myth, but it's not more
farfetched than the theory that
erasees
are magically transported to the
drop zones via some kind of portal.

"I've seen them before," Matt says as we come up
to the pile.  "Not this close.  They have some sort of shielding
that makes them disappear into the background, normally.  They come and go
without us knowing."

I look at him with my mouth open.  Then my eyes move
back to the pile.  I start walking around it slowly.  Matt is
watching me.  I'm just taking in the smashed pile of debris.  It's
like nothing I've ever seen.  On the one side, the metal shell is
prominent, but as I come around the end, there is something that is clearly a
control panel.  An engine has rolled a few yards away.  I open my
mouth to ask if we can remake it.  That's right when I see the streak of
red in the snow.  I blink and keep moving.  And there it is, hanging
out from under a jagged chunk of steel.  A hand.  And it is not made
of metal.

I run around the side, meaning to uncover the body and have
a look.  Only, as soon as I make it to the other side, it becomes clear
that there
is
no body.  My eyes dart through the wreckage.

"Where did you take it?" I say in a panic. 
"I want to see."

Matt just shakes his head, his brow furrowed.  "No
one took it anywhere."  The uncertain quality of his voice is
disturbing.  "This is all there was.  We knew about the flying
thing, but we didn't find the hand until this morning.  Once the light
came."

We stare at each other across the pile of metal.  My
whole body is shaking violently.

Matt comes around the pile to me.  "Hey," he
says softly, taking me by the arms.

I swallow hard and shake my head.  "You
think," I say, but my voice has gone hoarse, "...you think that
people are... are...?"  I can't form the entire thought, so thick is
the feeling of betrayal.  My head is swimming.

Matt's fingers tighten on my arms, making me focus on
him.  "I don't know.  Maybe... Maybe it was bringing an
erasee
somewhere, and just had them on board during the battle."

"Then where's the body?" I ask more loudly than I
mean to.  My eyes are wide on his face.  He glances past me toward
the trees.  I follow his gaze.  There are no tracks, but there
wouldn't be.  The snow has covered everything.  We probably wouldn’t
even have found the hand yet if it wasn’t sheltered on the non-wind side of the
debris.  I close my eyes.  "You don't think..."

"That he just got up and walked away without an
arm?"  He shakes his head.  "No."

I pull away from him so I can put my hands over my
face.  I rub my eyes.  They itch furiously.

"Eden," Matt whispers.  "It'll be
OK."

I start laughing.  Still rubbing my eyes, I feel the
tension inside me building to a cackle.  "This is
not
 OK,"
I say, dropping my hands and striding back toward the gate.

Matt follows.  He knows better than to say anything
else.  He just catches up with me and walks silently by my side.

My mind turns away from this new information, refusing it as
if it can't possibly be real.  I consider again all the things I
considered as I lay awake last night.  There were no right answers. 
My plans were a jumble.  I had hoped that sleeping would help work them
out.  That when I woke up, it would all make sense.  But I feel as
lost as ever.  There is one certain thing, though.  Matt is
right.  I have to go.  If I don't go, there is no hope for us.

As they let us back in through the gate, I say, "I need
to leave soon.  I should get some things together."

Matt nods.  "Tomorrow.  You need one good
night's sleep at least.  Don't worry about things.  I'm taking care
of all that.  Your team will have everything we can think of that could
possibly help you."

I glance at him as we continue down the road.  "My
team."

"I've got fifteen of my best men for you.  I wish
I could send more.  But—"

I stop walking.

Matt cuts himself off and turns to me. 
"What?"

"I'm not taking your men with me."

"Of course you are.  I'm not sending you out there
alone.  We don't even know what could be out there in all that
wilderness."

I take a deep breath.  My voice is small. 
"Wilderness?"

A little frown passes over his face, followed by the
immeasurable patience that he seems to reserve for me, since I test it so
often.  "The roads would be far more dangerous, I think.  There
are people out there who make a living of preying off of travelers. 
There's nowhere to hide.  We may not know much about the wilderness, but
no one will be looking for you there.  You can cut through.  It will
be shorter, and probably safer."

And entirely frightening.  He may as well be asking me
to step into the underworld.  I'm just short of telling him that he can go
on this expedition himself, but I know that's not possible.  It's me or no
one.  And he's right.  He's thought this through.  It's a good
idea.  But if I'm going to do it, it's going to be on my terms.  I
take another deep breath.  "I'll put together my own team.”

His eyes narrow on my face.  He sees right through
me.  "No," he says, shaking his head and crossing his arms. 
"You're not taking them.  I don't trust them."

"Well I do."  I mirror his stance and glare
at him defiantly.  "And I don't trust your men as far as I can throw
them.  And since I'm the one who has to go out there, I should get to
decide."

He's quiet for a moment, studying me.  His index finger
taps repeatedly on his upper arm.

"Besides," I say, "you do trust Miranda, or
you wouldn't put her in charge of so much."

He's shaking his head again.  His voice, this time, is
less scandalized and more hard, cold fact.  "You can't take
Miranda.  I need her here.  Without her, we've got no new
Sentries."

I purse my lips.  He's right again.  Miranda has
to stay.  Guilt surges inside me at the thought of leaving her. 
We're all supposed to escape together.  But I'm already questioning the
purpose of my mission.  Is it about escape?  Or is it about
rescue?  Everything feels so jumbled up inside me.  Very carefully, I
say, "You need your men as well.  They helped with the battle last
night.  They help protect the Outpost."

His face goes serious.  "The Outpost is nothing,
if you're not safe."

I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say to that. 
I don't know how to respond to the sincerity in his voice and his gaze. 
Finally I manage in little more than a whisper, "Well, how safe am I going
to be, if there's nothing to come back to?"

He drops his arms and moves closer to me.  His fingers
brush mine, then move to my face.  He smoothes back my hair with his
thumbs.  "I need you to come back, Eden," he whispers, his eyes
searching mine.  "Will you?  Will you come back?"

My heart hammers in my ears.  I smile faintly. 
"Of course."  But I don't know if it's true or not.

Matt must be convinced, though.  His answering smile is
also faint, but there is a joy in his eyes that almost seems to sparkle. 
His breathing is just a little shallower, like his breath is caught in his
chest.  He doesn't say anything for a minute—just drops his hands from my
face, strokes my fingers, and looks at the ground.  He’s blinking. 
Tears?  But his smile grows into a broad curve.

I feel my cheeks coloring in response to that smile and my
stomach turning with the surge of guilt it brings.  I look away and try to
get a hold of myself.  I can't mess this up now.

His smile suddenly falls away, replaced by a thoughtful,
troubled look.  He stares into the snow for a moment, then starts shaking
his head.  “Apollon.”  It’s like speaking the name is painful to
him.  “I can’t send you out there with him.  I saw how frightened you
were.  The way you grabbed his hand—”

“He’s my friend,” I protest.  “He could practically be
my brother.”  I’m shaking my head, too, and laughing incredulously. 
“Of course I was frightened.  I thought he was dead and then the
Sentry—”  My voice breaks and I have to try again.  “The Sentry…” 
I look away, visions of dangling feet clouding my memory.

Matt reaches for me again.  I don’t pull away, but I
can’t look at him.  I’m shivering.

Gently, he turns my face up to his.  I think he’s going
to question me, but he just looks into my eyes, searching for the answers
there.  I allow myself, for just a moment, to feel the warmth of his
presence and radiate it back to him.  A little laugh escapes him and he
looks away.  I can see the relief in his face.  He believes me about
Apollon.  And he should.  But he’s asking about the wrong
person.  I’m not sure how he could have missed it.  Matt’s too sharp
for that.  I suppose denial is a powerful thing.

We both sigh at the same time, and our eyes find each other
again.

"Do you really trust them?" he asks, looping his
arm through mine.  We begin walking slowly again.  "Even
after..."  Anger briefly washes across his face, then is gone. 
Smothered.  The rest of his words are clipped.  "After them
backing Grey."

"They hate Grey," I tell him, and all of it is
true.  "They would have sided with you, if they had thought there was
any way you would win.  They were just trying to keep us alive."

"And you trust people with loyalties that sway that
easily?"  He glances at me.  "You're not afraid that
they'll switch sides when it's convenient?"

I shake my head.  "No.  Not when it comes to
me.  We're family.  Apollon and Jonas have both risked their lives
for me more than once.  You don't put your life on the line for someone
that you would betray."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Matt nudges me in
the ribs with his elbow.  "You did fall off that barstool for me,
didn't you?  How many times did you betray me after that?"

I look up at him, but his face is painted with
amusement.  I narrow my eyes.  "How do you know that I wasn't
just trying to save myself by falling off the barstool?"

"So now you admit it," he says, jerking his head
back.

"I didn't admit anything," I laugh.

"Sounded like an admission to me," he
teases.  "And all this time you've been holding that over me. 
How you saved my life 'n' all."

"I did," I say, matter-of-factly.  "So
the least you can do to repay me is to let me choose my own team when I am
going off into the great unknown to save your bacon, yet again."

His lips twitch.  He glances at me.  "Truth
be told, even if the Sentries come for us all, I doubt they'll do anything to
Valentine.  She'll have the whole Outpost to herself, and she'll love
it."

"Not if there's no one to start a fire for her."

"I'm sure she'll manage.  So long as she has your
chair."

We wander on, our words continuing to tease and play. 
But I know I've won.  I know that when I leave here, my friends—at least
most of them—will be coming with me.

***

My team stands ankle-deep in the snow by the Outpost gates,
waiting for me.  There are four of them: Apollon, Jonas, Taylor, and
Jacob.  Neveah is not coming.  She doesn't want to go out
there.  I can't blame her.  Maybe she will be needed here, as
well.  Matt has promised to look after her and Miranda.  As for Jacob
and Taylor, they weren't my picks, but there was no way Matt was going to let
me traipse off into the wilderness with just Jonas and Apollon.  And if I
had to pick someone from Matt's crew, I would probably pick them.  So I
didn't argue too much.

Apollon and Jonas have their own packs, though I know Matt
told them not to bring anything.  At least they’re wearing the full winter
gear Matt has provided— gloves, boots, lined pants, and coats like nothing I’ve
ever seen.  I’m similarly bundled, and feeling completely snug though it’s
beyond cold today.  I have not spoken to my friends about the trip at
all.  They are here on Matt's orders.  They eye our truck as Matt
pulls up next to them.

"Get in." I nod toward the back.  Jacob and
Taylor are already climbing in amongst the packs.  My friends wordlessly
follow my instructions and join them.

The guards open the gates wide and Matt drives
through.  I hang onto the dashboard and armrest as we bounce down the
broken road.  This is my second time in the truck—Matt took me for a drive
yesterday, when we should have been preparing—but I don't think I will ever get
used to moving at this speed.  I glance nervously back at the boys to see
how they're fairing.  All four of them are huddled against the cab to try
to stay out of the wind.  I sigh and look ahead where we're going. 
The sky hangs over us, a span of periwinkle.  The stars have not yet gone
out.  On my right, a wash of red and orange is appearing through the tree
line.  A beautiful color.  It sets my heart racing.  Again, I'm
glancing back, wondering if my friends see it.  Apollon is saying
something to Jacob and Taylor.  But Jonas is quiet, his eyes on the
dawn-swept sky.  I look again at the melting colors and contemplate what
he is thinking.

The pavement and trees and moments fly by, and nothing
interrupts my silent thoughts.  Matt, behind the wheel, is quiet. 
Yesterday was his day for saying things.  Today, his eyes flit to me
occasionally.  When I meet them, once, he manages a smile.  I'm not
convinced.  There's a quietness about him that goes beyond the lack of
words.  I've only seen him so dark once before when he thought everything
was lost.  He's trying to hide it now for my sake.  He's even doing a
good job.  But he's carrying tension in his shoulders, in his neck and
jaw.  His breathing is slow, too purposely measured.  His fingers
grip the steering wheel a touch tighter than yesterday.

"How hard could it be?" I say, poking him with one
gloved hand, grinning.  I don’t want him to feel like this.  His
silent pain is seeping into me, contagious.  "Didn't your men tell
you how easily I popped that crystal out of the Sentry the first time? 
I've just got to get to the tower, and it'll all fall into place.  Same
deal.  Right?"

"Sure," he agrees, flashing me a grin.  It
doesn’t touch his eyes.  "Clearly you were meant for this. 
You'll be back in no time."  He glances into the driver's side
mirror, then the rearview.  He reaches up and adjusts it. 
Blinks.  Focuses on the road, squinting.

I look away from him and watch the trees.  Sigh. 
Yesterday did a lot for dispelling the horror of the unknown, though the vast
world within the forest is still entirely intimidating.  There are
beautiful things out there, too, though, and part of me is looking forward to
seeing them.

We drive for maybe an hour.  Nothing but us, and road,
and scanner posts, and trees.  Matt slows the truck before I see them,
silver blending against the background of white.  Two Sentries standing
ahead of us.  Our road ends where it intersects with another running right
and left.  I already knew this from the map.  This is our exit.