Heartless (38 page)

I smiled. “Of course. You go get yourself checked out. I don’t like the sound you’re making while you’re breathing.”

He winced. “Yeah, I don’t feel so great. You’ll still be here when I get back?”

I nodded. “Yes. And when you get back, we can talk about that German guy some more. Remember him? When you think about it, all this, it’s obviously his fault.”

“It’s always the Germans’ fault, right?” Tears flooded Eli’s eyes and he leaned so close to me our foreheads touched. We hadn’t been that close in days, not since I left his apartment in the middle of the night. He slid one hand around my waist, then another up to the back of my head, squeezing me tight. “I’ll never forget you, Jo.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll never forget you either. Now go. Go get well. And maybe someday you’ll find a nice German girl.”

I pushed him away so I didn’t have to see the tears spill down his cheeks. Lucy slid an arm around his waist and let him lean against her as she walked him to the door.

Then I turned to my father. “Come back soon,” I whispered.

“I will,” he said. “This isn’t goodbye.”

But it was.

Dear Mom,

It’s been a few hours since Dad and Eli left. You and Lucy are both sleeping. I’m watching you, listening to you sleep. It makes me feel like we’re back home, like this has all been just a bad dream.

But I know that’s not true.

The Order of the Adversaries manifesto sits on my desk, staring at me, daring me to open it and read more. I can’t finish it, not now, and I don’t want to.

I’ll leave it here, though, for Lucy. For Eli. Because I’ve read enough. I know they’re not done with the battle yet. I thought about burning it while you slept, like maybe that would erase the Order, erase all that’s happened so far. But I can’t think that way anymore. I have to think about your safety. Yours, and Dad’s, and Lucy’s, and Eli’s.

Please, tell Lucy and Eli, as soon as you can: they can’t go to the cops. Open the manifesto. You’ll see. Adam really was a cop. His twin brother, too. It’s right there, on the top. Their information. And there are others as well. It’s all part of their plan. Some of the names are code names, though, so I don’t know how to tell you whom you can trust. I can only tell you not to trust anyone.

Because I believe this, and only this: they’re still going to come for you. All of you. You’re not safe.

So you have to take care of each other.

Especially you. I know you. You’ll try to take care of everyone, the way you always took care of me. And you need to do that now. But you also need to remember to let them take care of you. You can’t do this on your own.

But Mom, this is the most important thing. You have to tell Lucy and Eli: they have to stop the Order. They have to wipe them out or else you’ll never be safe. They want to destroy everything.

I’m listening to you snore. It’s all I hear right now, even with my bionic hearing. I wish I could lie next to you on my bed, curl up in your arms like I did when I was small, and forget all my troubles.

I love you and Daddy so much. You’ve been amazing parents, given me more than any girl could ever possibly deserve.

I wish I could lie down with you. I think it’s almost time.

Because I’m so tired.

I can feel my brain dying. It’s getting fuzzier. My battery is dying. My heart pump is ruptured, which means my heart is officially broken.

I’m going to unplug myself now. I’m going to stand up and walk to you and kiss you goodbye, Mama. Please kiss Daddy for me, too. Thank you for giving me everything I ever wanted, and for being here until the end. If I never seemed to appreciate it, please know: I do. I did.

And please, when you wake up, don’t plug me back in. Don’t wake me back up.

I’m so tired.

And I’m finally ready to sleep.

I love you.

Love, your Jo

Dear Jo,

You’re dead now. I have to keep repeating that to myself, over and over and over. Otherwise I forget, even for a second, and then I have to remember again. You’re dead now. The memory hits harder and harder each time.

Jolene. You were my best friend, and I loved you. You never knew how beautiful you were, how amazing your life was going to be. You never once realized how much we all loved you. And we did. Oh my God, Jo, we loved you so much. So I’m telling you that now, even though you’re dead and I know you’ll never, ever read this email.

Or maybe you will. I don’t know. Maybe it’s time I find some religion. God knows I’m going to need all the help I can get, if I want to succeed at the task you gave me.

Stop the Order, you said. Take care of each other.

Oh, Jo. I’m going to try. Please know how hard I’m going to try.

And I’m going to miss your face, every day. Miss your laugh, your cry. Hell, I’m even going to miss your smell, at the end, if you can believe that. It was my final tie to you—I smelled it for days after they took you away. If I focus real hard, I can smell it still. It’s in my clothes, I think. Or my nostrils, etched in there like the incision was etched across your stomach.

But I loved you. And I’m going to try so hard to be brave. And to take care of Eli. But he’s yours, still, Jo. He loves you. I hear him cry sometimes, even though he doesn’t want me to. He loved you so much, and his heart is broken, just like mine. Maybe together we can heal. Who knows.

But in the meantime, I just want you to know. I love you. I’ll never forget.

Love, Lucy

LucyGoosie: #SmythvilleStudentLife @EliPete21 Services celebrating the life of Jolene Hall today at the Greene-Locke Theater. 12 pm

I
t was hard to keep from crying as I stood in front of the huge crowd of people, all gathered to mourn the death of my best friend, who’d been buried days before in a small, private ceremony in Colorado. Her parents flew Eli and me out there for the occasion; they knew how much we both needed to say goodbye in person, and that Eli couldn’t have afforded a ticket on his own. Not with his student loans. They threw in my ticket for good measure.

At Jo’s funeral, Eli held my hand. Or I held his. We held onto each other for dear life, but now I was alone, with no one to hold. This would be the last goodbye.

We were in Smytheville College’s huge theater, but all the seats were packed. It was early March, and the snow on the ground was just beginning to melt with the promise of spring. Most of the campus had turned out to mourn their fellow student. We weren’t used to losing one of our own.

It hadn’t been easy to even reach this point, since Jo’s death was nothing short of mysterious to anyone except for the small handful of us who knew what had happened. Luckily, Jo’s father had enough contacts in high enough places that he was able to reach an agreement to keep investigators from nosing around too much.

Her poor father. He was a mess, even as he worked hard to keep Eli and me safe.

Mrs. Hall seemed to be a bit calmer and accepting about the whole thing. She’d been asleep on the bed when Jo unplugged. She found Jo lying peacefully on the floor beside her when she awoke after that terrible night. Jo was already dead, then, or at least her battery had run out. Mrs. Hall came and got me, and we sat with Jo until Mr. Hall returned, alone. Eli had a punctured lung, and was still in the hospital when Jo died. I’d gone to him as soon as I could, to tell him the news myself.

In the dorm, Mr. Hall wanted to plug Jo back in, to wake her back up to say goodbye once more. He held her lifeless body in his lap like a baby, stroking her matted hair, caressing her broken fingers. He kissed her again and again, like a prince trying to awaken the sleeping princess.

But Mrs. Hall stood firm.

Jo didn’t want to wake back up.

She’d been through enough. I was there with them that night, and this day, they were there in the amphitheater with me. They sat just a couple feet away from me while I stood in front of the packed house. Mrs. Hall’s eyes were red but calm. Mr. Hall had obviously taken a truckload of Xanax to get through the service; his eyes were vacant, dead.

Dead like Jo.

Eli sat beside them, still hunched from the pain of his broken ribs. When I faltered before starting my speech, he gave me a thumbs-up.
You can do this
, his smile said.
You’re going to be great.

I wasn’t so sure, but since Mrs. Hall had asked me to speak a few days earlier, it seemed like the right thing to do was to honor my best friend as best as I could. It was the least I could do, really. The very least.

Jo charged us with saving the world, or at least each other. The Order’s Manifesto sat on my desk now, instead of Jo’s. I was going to read it that night. She thought I could do it, just like Mrs. Hall thought I could speak on her daughter’s behalf. I wasn’t sure about that one, either, but I knew one thing: I didn’t want to end up like Jo.

I tried to speak again, for the crowd of shocked and crying students were looking to me to make sense out of the death of our classmate.

Of course I
could
make sense of it, to a point, but I couldn’t exactly tell them that.

So I stayed generic.

We’re here today to honor my best friend, Jolene Hall. We met a long time ago now, Jo and me. It was late August. We shared a bathroom. I didn’t know that first day that I’d met the best friend I’d ever have, but I had.

I faltered, and this time, I looked out into the crowd. I smelled something. Something familiar. A mix of chemicals, and decay. It was faint, just a waft across the tip of my nose that made me turn my head and stare.

That smell could only come from one thing. I stared at the crowd as I spoke from memory, rather than the cheat-sheet I’d placed on the podium in front of me.

Finally, I saw her in the last row, last seat next to the aisle.

She wore a large black hat, the kind which you only see at British royal weddings, and dark, round sunglasses.

It was her. The false literature professor, the recruiter for the Order of the Adversaries.

Sondra Lewis.

Beside her sat a beautiful blonde girl. She sat ramrod-straight with the posture of a prima ballerina, almost as though she
couldn’t
slouch. As if something held her in place. Her face was placid, calm. She was more still than anyone in the room. It was from her that the smell emanated, and I had to pause my speech to swallow back the bile that rose automatically in my throat.

She was one of them. She was the girl who’d been circled on the wall. A soldier for the Order.

Beside her sat Adam Strong. When I saw him, I almost fell over, and had to catch myself on the podium to regain my balance. Eli hopped to his feet, as best as a battered boy could hop, but I stilled him with a quick nod and a warning glance.

And all the while I kept talking about Jo. Her smile, her sense of humor, the joy she brought to those who knew her.

But no,
I reminded myself.
Adam’s dead. I killed him.

No matter how many times I repeated that to myself though, no matter how many times I closed and reopened my eyes as I stood in front of the student body of Smytheville College, Adam Strong still sat there in the crowd. He mocked me by being alive.

Oh, hell, no,
I thought.
Wrap it up.

I stumbled on through more generics. I should have done better; I could have shared a million memories with that crowd, brought them to laughter and to tears. It would have been a defining moment for Jo, and for me. But I had only one thought.
We have to stop them.

As soon as I finished speaking, the room burst into a standing ovation of applause. It startled me.
Did I really say anything that impressive?
Then I remembered they were clapping for Jo, not me.

I stared out at Sondra, Adam, and the girl. Eli joined me as soon as I let him. He smelled it, too. The rotten chemical smell. “There she is,” I whispered.

Sondra saw us stare. She took off her glasses. Her eyes were red. She’d clearly been crying. She waved, and then turned to head out the nearest door, pulling the blonde along beside her. Adam trailed behind, stopping to look me up and down with a dirty-old-man stare.