Phantom Universe (14 page)

Eager, she hauls his palm into her lap and quickly writes, “What is Jackerion? Is it what makes me funny inside?”

Jaden drags over a sleeping bag and drops it across from them. Jaden and Cameron sit down and begin to watch the two of them, like they’re a movie.

“
Well, Jackerion is a substance that seals wounds, contains a ridiculous amount of antibiotics, and is an instant pain reliever. It can sometimes be too much when the person is underweight and can make them sleepy or feel fuzzy.” His too-green eyes glance sideways at her with humor. “It was named after the inventor, Jack. Actually, he named it.” He pauses. “Now can I ask a question?”

She gives a quick tap into his palm.

He’s reluctant for a second, but finally asks, “Why did you react that way back there.” His head automatically tilts toward the waterfall.

Her palm rubs against his for a second as she thinks of how to answer. She writes, “I laughed. Everyone stared at me in shock like I did something wrong. I—” She stops and contemplates how to word it. “Many of my scars are from doing things like that.”

He doesn’t respond, and the waterfall’s echoing roar fills the silence, seemingly growing in volume. Her heart starts to pick up its pace, even though the drugs in her system tell her to relax. She quickly begins to write into his palm again, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” He shakes his head swiftly, and the movement causes her to flinch away. It’s just so automatic for her.

“
Please don’t,” he says softly. “I’m just having a hard time digesting the fact you went through all of that, so scared to speak or make a single sound. Do you ever . . . speak, that is?”

Two taps.

“
Never?”

“
Never,” she writes in his palm, pauses and adds, “Will you tell us about the future?” She wants to change the subject; it’s tiring to always be the focus.

“
After the several World Wars, and our takeover of the U.S., scientists were brought in from all over the globe to prevent our economy from being so dependent on oil. Now ninety percent of our energy comes from solar power and fusion technology,” he explains, and Summer feels lost.

“
Skip the boring stuff and focus on the cool toys!” Jaden exclaims and pokes Cameron’s belt with all its gadgets. “I mean, how awesome are TVs now?”

Cameron and Gage exchange an amused look.

“
We don’t have TV anymore,” Cameron explains, and Summer internally laughs at how Captain Travis would have a fit if he could no longer pirate big screens leaving Japan via freighters.

“
What?” Jaden shouts, her face falling in disappointment. “That’s so lame!”

“
We have something much cooler now,” she continues with a smirk, removes something from her pocket, and sets it on the ground. A button is pressed, and a movie of some kind plays—except you can walk all the way around it. It’s like everything’s happening in the room.

“
Freakin’ cool!” Jaden bellows and jumps to her feet, circling the holograph. “And he’s hot!” Reaching out, her hand goes right through the guy.

“
Yeah,” Carmon agrees. “That’s Maddox. He’s very famous in the Federation.”

“
But his acting is pretty splashy,” Gage adds playfully.

“
That’s the word that one girl was using—Paige? What does it mean?” Jaden wonders as she sits again.

“
It means excrement,” Cameron clarifies with a chuckle. She shuts the device down, and the hologram disappears. “I think it’s time we all get some sleep, though. Tomorrow I’m bringing you two into the hospital.”

Before Gage can leave Summer’s grasp, she writes in his hand quickly, “I want to know more about you.” She pauses before writing, “So I can feel more comfortable.” She flushes with embarrassment and slight anxiety. Did she go too far?

He nods once, a smile playing at his lips. “Can you two give us a minute?”

“
Sure,” Cameron allows. “I still need to do an exam on Jaden, anyway.”

They stand, stride to the far end of the cave’s large cavern, and turn a corner, and the light mysteriously follows them. How they do that will have to go on the Things to Ask About Later list.

“
I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Gage says and scoots so they face each other. “But, you have to promise me you’ll quit flinching every time I move. I’m not your master, I’ve never had a slave before, and I have never hit a female. I’m not going to start now.”

“
I’ll try,” she writes uncertainly.

He sighs. “I’ll take it, but no more incidents like outside. Now, about me.” He smirks. “I’m eighteen; I’ve been training to be in the Canadian League since I was eight. Everyone is required to join for five years when they turn seventeen, but only some are Lifers. Because of my training, I’m automatically the commanding officer for those who aren’t Lifers.” He pauses, and then grumbles under his breath, “I don’t even like the government, yet I’m supposed to fight for them.”

She locks away the information, making a special note that he doesn’t like authority, and then writes, “I’m glad you were the one to find us.”

“
Me too,” he agrees and squeezes her hand.

“
What about family?” she writes.

“
No siblings. I haven’t seen my parents in two years. When I went away to do more extensive training, they left to go be hippies in a village in the Bahamas. Funny thing is—they were the ones who choose my career path, and now they preach peace and love, just like people used to do during the Vietnam War. They even rock out to John Lennon.” Though his voice conveys how upset he is by their abandonment, he smiles when talking about them. Her eyes are trained on every facial expression, trying to read him. He cocks his head to the side in question.

“
Do faeries exist?” she writes, being completely serious. It’s time to put the question to rest.

He bursts into laughter, and his head flings back. “No. No faeries.”

She frowns in disappointment that they aren’t real. She wants to question him further—it can’t be true. There must be faeries.

“
Listen, Summer.” He turns serious immediately, changing her favorite subject. “I’m not quite sure how to act around you. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I don’t want to overstep my bounds.” He takes both of her hands between his so quickly that she almost flinches, but stops herself.

He’s not going to hurt me
, she tells herself.
Breathe, stay calm
. The thing is—she’s surprisingly calm with him holding her hands. She’s not sure how long this feeling will last; it’s probably the drugs.

“
If I ever do anything you’re uncomfortable with, please tell me somehow. It’s okay to say no to me; I won’t punish you for it.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’ll never see you again after tomorrow, and I don’t want that to be the case. Would you be opposed to me visiting you in the hospital?” He looks hopeful.

Those same butterflies tingle and flutter their way through her stomach, and her heart picks up speed. She pulls a hand free from his and gently strokes his cheek that’s a little rough from not shaving. Then she does something unpredictable—she grasps his neck, draws him down to her, and softly kisses his cheek. She pauses a few inches away from his face, her breath heavy, and carefully lets go. She wants to kiss his lips, too, but she hasn’t had the chance to brush her teeth since before the ship blew up. She should be panicking over her actions, but the drugs make her calm and carefree almost.

Gage’s cheeks flame red as his hypnotic green eyes catch hers, burning with intensity. “Is that a yes?” he breathes.

She holds his palm with care and writes, “I’d be offended if you didn’t visit.” They both share a private smile, and Summer’s body is slowly learning to relax in his presence.

“
I’ll be there every day,” he promises. Earlier today she would have considered that a threat—now she looks forward to it.

Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezes with all the strength she can muster. He reciprocates, but is much gentler as he encircles her waist. With her head on his shoulder, she mouths “thank you” over and over again. This is the first time she’s felt remotely safe since she lost Landon, but how long will it last?

CHAPTER
16: DIGNITY

10 years old

Respect is one of those things some of the crew members never learned while growing up. Summer knows that the crew members don’t have to express or show her any respect. Her place is to serve the ship and the people aboard. She’s a slave, and at any moment the Captain could decide to make her do ungodly, unspeakable acts. She’s been on the Cosmos for six years—she can handle a crude remark, an overly dirty room, or even a drink dumped at her feet. The one thing she refuses to lose, though, is her dignity. That’s when she’ll fight. So far she hasn’t run into any problems that could not be solved. Until today.

The Captain tells Summer she’s on bunker duty. She hates this more than most chores—besides cleaning their toilets. She most definitely will always keep that at the top of her Least Favorite Things to Clean list. The thing with cleaning the crew’s personal area is that it’s their personal area. This is a rare chore, but she understands immediately why this task has been assigned when she steps into the first room. She isn’t quite sure where the laundry-carpet ends and the mold infestation begins. It’s really, truly horrific. Like the laundry is as stiff as an over-starched shirt kind of bad. With the most heavy-duty gloves she can find protecting her hands, she reaches down and picks up what looks to be a shirt with spilled soup on it, though who knows what it really is. It’s so awful she’s sure it must be a sin to live like this, or at least unsanitary. Her nose scrunches up at the rotting smell. She dumps it into a clothes basket and turns her head away so she can breathe—not fresh air, but less offensive odors.

To her chagrin, the first room is the cleanest. Or the least vile—there is nothing clean about any of the rooms. Hours pass, and her cleaning supplies dwindle faster than the revolting stuff she scrubs at. At this rate she will need to have the Captain restock her supplies and use half of them on herself to remove the grime. She’s a slave and lives in a cleaner environment than the crew members. Maybe they liked living this way? Who knows?

When the sun begins to set, she knows that she must shower and go to the kitchen to make dinner. It’s always at nine in the evening, and she hasn’t been late putting food on the table since she had food poisoning several years back. The whole crew was sick so they didn’t care—or notice, really—that she was also incapacitated.

Tired, disgusting, and ready to take a scalding shower, Summer ambles down the hallway like an old woman. Her muscles ache with each step. She truly does hate to clean the crew’s quarters—a hate as pure and toxic as the air she’d been breathing in for the past several hours. Feet away from her room she notices the door is slightly ajar, and the light is on.
That’s strange
, she thinks as she takes a few more steps. Cautiously, she palms the door and pushes until it gradually reveals what she can only assume is the aftermath of a hurricane. She has few possessions and treats each of them with gentle care. Now they are scattered across the room with careless abandon.

You can handle this
, she tells herself unconvincingly. A few tentative steps into the room she finally sees the one thing that would break her. Her journal is crumpled, torn, and in slightly damp pieces. Her eyes well up with tears as she falls to her knees and frantically tries to put the pieces back together. Her journal is her one treasured possession. The one physical thing she actually cares about and can feel in the palms of her hands is gone. The journal that holds all of her memories from her childhood is now in shambles.
Held the memories
, she corrects mentally. Her dignity feels shredded just like the pages of her journal. She might not be able to write, but she drew what little she could, improving upon them as she aged.

Summer remembers another slave on the ship sitting with her for hours as she told her childhood memories in picture format. Her name was Nina, and she helped to improve her skill with a pencil since Summer wouldn’t speak. Nina always promised she would teach her how to read and write one day, but was sold to another ship before she had the chance. Summer always told herself that she would one day learn so she could write the stories that went along with the pictures in her journal. But now it’s all gone . . . all the words meaningless in their scattered pages.