Until We End (20 page)

“Yes,” Charlie said, squatting down next to me. “I've been told about your blood tests, Cora — I hope you don't mind if I continue calling you Cora? — and I would like to talk to you about them. I hope you understand why Dr. Mitchell has brought you here for testing.”

“To find a vaccine.”

“To find a vaccine,” he repeated. His eyes were fixed on mine. He barely blinked. “You understand that time is of the essence in this situation?”

I narrowed my eyes. What was he getting at? Did he think I didn't
want
them to find a vaccine? “Of course I understand.”

“Then why did you resist the test yesterday?”

“You know why! Because it was freaking
torture.
And I still haven't found my brother. I understand why the vaccine is important. I'm not stupid. But my priority has to be him.”

“If you tell me your brother's name, Cora, I can check the shelter records to see if he's been admitted.”

Charlie must've really thought I was stupid. If I gave them Coby's name, they'd just haul him in here with me and run tests to see if he carried the same blood abnormality I did. I would never do that to him.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don't think so.”

Brother Charlie's forehead creased. “Are you sure? I'm just trying to help, Cora.”

“I'm sure.”

He rested a hand on my shoulder and I tried not cringe at the feel of his soft, plump skin. Had Brother Charlie ever known a hard day in his life? Ever had to go hungry or dig for his dinner or watch his back for a knife? I doubted it.

“If you're lying to me, tell me now. It won't do you any favors to look like you've tried to deceive us.”

I tried to swallow again, but my throat had gone dry. What would they do if they found out I had lied? What could be worse than this?

“I'm not lying.”

“Wonderful.” He stood and brushed at nonexistent dirt on his khaki pants. “Try to get some sleep. I believe the doctor said he'd be reviewing the results of your bone marrow test today, so you'll have a little time to rest. But I'm sure I'll see you again soon.”

He turned and the waiting soldiers opened my cell door for him. I closed my eyes as the iron bars clanged back into place. My heart began to slow. I didn't know how they could possibly find out I was lying, but I didn't want to imagine what would happen if they somehow did. It would ruin everything. They'd trace me to Coby, wherever he was, and toss him into my cell. Suck out every last bit of our blood and bone marrow.

At least I'd get to hold him as we died.

Sleep was not restful for me that night. I dreamt of endless black oceans turned upside down by hurricanes. Lightning striking mountains of water. Drowning. The ocean crashed around me with a sound like thunder. Lightning struck the water fifty feet away.

Then thirty feet away.

Again and again, a chain reaction of lightning getting closer with every frenzied heartbeat, until I snapped my head up and watched it streak down the sky, targeting me like a bullet—

I jolted awake with electricity in my veins. When my eyes snapped open, I saw milk chocolate with caramel. Brooks.

Couldn't be real. “I'm dreaming.”

“No, you're not,” he whispered. “Stay quiet.” He was crouching over me, and wearing his normal all-black, blended seamlessly with the shadows. He'd never looked more beautiful.

Brooks stood, held out a hand, and pulled me to my feet in a single, effortless motion. Effortless for him, at least. I had to grip his arms so the pain in my hip wouldn't send me crashing to the floor.

He steadied me by the biceps. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”

My legs shook with the effort of standing upright, but I bit down on the pain and peered at the barred wall, looking for cut steel or a door hanging ajar. Everything seemed normal. “Nothing, I'm fine. How'd you get in?”

“The window,” he said, nodding at the wall behind us. The bars on the window were missing — neatly cut out. “Took all damn night. Can't believe you slept through it.”

The drugs had probably helped.

He moved to stand by the wall, bent his knees, and laced his fingers together to make a step for me. “I'll give you a lift up and then we have to move. The guards could walk by any minute.”

I faltered — my hip pounded with every heartbeat like the needle was still inside me, drilling into me. But then Brooks' words in the street — I didn't know how many days ago — came back to me.

He said he'd find me and he did. Miracle man. And if he could do this, then I could stand to be pushed through a stupid freaking window. I took a deep breath and limped over to him before bracing my hands on his shoulders. I was so anxious that I didn't even register how close I was to him, encircled by his arms.

No other option,
I told myself.
Pain is no big deal. It's all in my head. It won't kill me.

“What are you waiting for?” Brooks hissed. “Come
on
, Cora.”

I gripped his shoulders tighter and fit my left foot — Mitchell had taken the marrow from my right leg — into his hand.

Before I had time to think or prepare myself, he was catapulting me up and through the window. A small yelp escaped me, and I bit my lip to keep it from growing into a scream.
Stupid,
I scolded myself.
Shut. Up!

I landed on my back in the grass outside the window. The sound of Brooks' boot scuffing the cement sent me scrambling back, trying to ignore the jabbing ache in my hip. The pain made tears sting my eyes, but I would not let myself cry in front of Brooks. I wouldn't.

He leapt out of the window like a cat, landing deftly on his feet. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up at him. “Could you lend me a hand here?”

His brows knit together as he stared down at me, but still he offered me his hand and helped me up. “Why can't you stand on your own?”

I grit my teeth. I hated this. I hated being weak, especially in front of him. “Bone marrow,” I said.

“They took your bone marrow?”

“With no painkillers.”

His face was blank for a second before understanding crept in. Then his eyes widened and he took a long breath through his mouth. “That's fucking
sick.
”

I stared at the grass, unable to look him in the face.
I
was sick. Sick of running, searching, sick of being stabbed and shot at and threatened. I'd made my bed and I'd have to lie in it. But I didn't have to bring Brooks down with me. I couldn't run. The most I could do was hide in the bushes and wait for the pain to ease.

I'd just opened my mouth to tell him to leave when he scooped me up, hooking one arm under my knees and the other under my armpits. Then
he
started running.

Pain stabbed my hip with every step he took, white hot, but I could bear it. I had to. I wound my arms around his neck and buried my face in his skin, trying to ignore everything except his musky pine scent.

“Thank you,” I whispered. If he heard me, he didn't respond.

He ran parallel to the road, behind a line of thin trees and bushes that wouldn't do much to cover us if a car happened to come driving by. I began to recognize the landscape as Sharp Naval Base. Dad used to take me and Coby here to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July. I'd never seen it so deserted.

It was only a few minutes before Brooks skidded to a stop, cursing, and knelt to the ground.

I fell to my knees beside him and looked up. We'd stopped at an intersection where the pine trees we were using for cover thickened and curved to surround a parking lot. A few feet away, Brooks' dark blue dirt bike leaned against a tree.

In the parking lot, a man was loading his jeep full of boxes. I braced my hand on a pine's sticky bark and leaned in to get a better look.

The man had ash-blond hair and wore blue scrubs. His glasses flashed under the streetlights.

I lost my breath.

It was Dad.

I jerked forward, a cry rising in my throat, but Brooks yanked me back, covering my mouth. His arm around my chest cinched me like a straitjacket, his hand on my mouth more effective than any muzzle. I thrashed in his arms, the pain in my hip forgotten, twisting and bruising my ribs with the force of my struggle.

“Cora,” Brooks hissed. “Cora,
stop.
”

Dad was so
close.

I wanted to run to him, see if he was real. To speak to him. To touch him.

To wrap my hands around his neck and
shake
him, demand to know where he'd been, why he'd left us, and
God, everything would have been so different if he hadn't left!
I sobbed violently against Brooks' hand, my lungs gasping for breath, soul gasping for air.

Dad was getting into his jeep.

He was going to disappear again. Leave me again. And Brooks was going to let him.

I gripped Brooks' arm and bit down, hard. He jerked back just long enough for me to twist in his grip and stumble away. I held my hands up in surrender.

The rumble of an engine sounded from the parking lot. Last chance.

“Please,” I said. Something about my voice made Brooks pause. “Please, Brooks. That's my dad.”

He shook his head and held me by the elbows. “I don't care who the hell it is, Cora, you're going to get yourself
killed
if you run out there.”

“No, I won't.” My mind raced. “We'll follow him. We can take your bike.”

Brooks paced toward the parking lot, where he'd have a better view of the jeep. I couldn't see much of his face in the dark. Only the glint of his eyes and the shadow of his jaw. “That's really your dad?”

“
Yes
,” I said. Brooks knew about my family. He would help me; he had to.

“Shit, Cora.
Shit
. Think about this. If that's really your dad, what is he doing here? Here, of all places?”

In front of us, the jeep shifted into drive with a flash of red light and rolled to the parking lot's exit.

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't care! Please, Brooks.
Please.
I can't let him leave again.”

Brooks stepped closer, blocking the jeep from my vision, and rested his hands gently on my shoulders. “I don't want to lose you again.”

“You won't,” I said. “You'll be with me the whole time.”

“Okay.” What I could see of his face told me was nodding. “Fine. We'll do this. Get on the bike.”

He turned without another word, and I stumbled after him, tripping over my feet. I caught myself on the bike just before I hit the ground. My hip pulsed with every heartbeat, making every breath shake, begrudging me every step. When my eyes came back to focus, they fixed on a splotch of bright pink.

My backpack. Thank God for Brooks. I straightened and slung it on, then had to catch myself again before I fell.

“This is going to be a fucking disaster,” Brooks muttered.

I bit my lip to keep from snapping back at him. He swung a leg over his bike gracefully, gripped the clutch and waited. My mouth had gone dry, tongue sticking behind my teeth. Brooks carrying me all this way was bad enough.

But off-roading on a dirt bike? I didn't want to think about it. I circled around the bike and swung my good leg over it, mimicking Brooks' grace. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

I fastened my hands on his waist and steadied my feet on the pegs. “Let's go.”

Dad's taillights were shrinking in the distance. I couldn't lose him. Not again.

Brooks twisted the clutch, jerking the bike into motion. Through the pain, I kept my eyes on Dad's jeep, focusing on it. We kept a safe distance from Dad, about thirty feet away, and stayed behind the cover of the pines without our lights on. Low-hanging branch slapped my face, the prickly bark stinging and scratching my skin, making me bleed. I barely blinked, afraid that Dad would disappear and I'd never see him again.

We'd entered into the residential area of the base. Cookie-cutter houses with cheap vinyl siding lined the road, their driveways empty and windows dark. I wondered if anyone still lived there. It felt deserted.

Dad pulled into one of the driveways and Brooks mirrored him, cutting across a neighboring yard at the other end of the street and turning the bike off. I grit my teeth, knowing I had to get off first.

I swung my leg over the bike so quickly that my hospital gown ripped up the side and my ankle turned. I dropped to the ground on my bad hip. This time, I couldn't stop myself from screaming. I'd just managed to slap a hand over my mouth by the time Brooks crouched next to me.

“I can't believe we're doing this,” he said. “Don't you know how stupid this is? How risky? If we're caught, we're dead. And you can barely even
walk
.”

“I'm
fine,
” I said, forcing myself to my feet. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I'd ignore the screaming pain in my hip until it became a whisper, until it fell silent. It didn't matter. Getting to my dad mattered. And the pain was just standing in my way.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Brooks leaned his bike against the side of the house, and I peered into the backyard. There weren't any fences separating the houses. I could cut straight across the lawns until I made it to the house Dad went into.

“Let's go,” I said. I started across the lawn, keeping my steps long, quick, smooth. When that became tolerable, I sped up to a jog. Dad was five houses away.

Four.

Three.

I stopped at the house next to his and stared. His was the only place on the block with the lights on. I crept across his neighbor's yard and ducked behind a shed in his backyard. Brooks was right on my heels.

“What are you planning on doing?”

Slapping him. “Talking to him.”