Cured (28 page)

When I was sixteen, I watched my dad fix Steve's shoulder after he dislocated it by trying to hoist himself over the fence in our backyard, so I have a general idea of what to do. But I don't want to do it. I might mess up. And I know it will hurt Kevin before it helps him. The embroidery hanging above the living room fireplace pops into my head.
To Be Brave, You Must First Be Afraid
. I am afraid.

“I need you to sit up,” I say, and push on his good shoulder until he's sitting. “I'm so sorry, but this is going to hurt.” Kevin nods. “Now, you need to relax if you can. It will make your shoulder go back into the joint more easily. Are you ready?”

“No,” he says, but he takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes. Holding his wrist, I bend his arm at a ninety-degree angle, then slowly, millimeter by millimeter, start pulling his wrist away from his body, careful to keep his elbow tucked firmly against his ribs.

Kevin grimaces and I keep slowly pulling. His breathing speeds up and I keep slowly pulling. He drops his head, closes his eyes, and grunts; his muscles tighten; and I keep slowly pulling. Then he screams while I pull harder, as hard as I can, and his scream fills the entire room. Until he goes silent, like he's been knocked unconscious. His chin drops against his chest, and his body slumps.

“Kevin?” I say, panic in my voice.

“That feels so much better,” he whispers, cradling his left arm. His eyes open. “You are amazing.”

I try to smile but can't. Finally, I ask, “Have you changed your mind?” I pull my legs against my chest, making myself as small as I can, and hold my breath.

“Changed my mind about what?”

“Trading places with me,” I whisper. “Now that you know what you're up against.”
Now that you know you'll be torn to shreds
.

Face placid, he studies me for a long time. Slowly, he kneels in front of me, rests his hands on my bent knees, and says, “I haven't changed my mind.”

I hug my legs even tighter and press my forehead to my knees, against his hands covering them. My ribs tighten, my eyes fill with tears, and my shoulders start to shake with sobs that I can no longer hold in. “I'm sorry,” I gasp between sobs. “I'm so sorry you have to die for me.”

“Don't be sorry. The only thing tying me up out there did”—Kevin whispers, his mouth beside my ear—“the only thing Soneschen proved is that my taking your place is the right choice.”

My heart feels like it is being torn in two. “Are you sure?”

“I have only been surer of two things in my entire life.”

I lift my face and look at him through tear-blurred eyes. “What?”

“That I would do everything in my power to make up for my sister's getting my dose of the vaccine and turning into a beast,” he says, voice filled with so much conviction that it makes me shiver. “And that I love you.”

My heart seems to sew itself back together and then tear in two all over again.

His gaze flickers to my lips. “And if it wouldn't risk giving away your secret, I would kiss you right now.”

I grab his face and pull it to mine, pressing my lips against his. His hand cups my cheek, and he kisses me for half a minute before pulling away. Water glistens in his eyes and he blinks, spilling it down his cheeks.

“Those aren't tears,” I whisper. “Your eyes are just watering because that kiss hurt so much.”

He shakes his head. “No. This time they are tears. This is how much I'm hurting inside at the thought of never seeing you again. Or my sister. Or my grandpa.” He presses my hand to his damp cheek and closes his eyes.

Fresh tears fill my eyes, and I say, “If it's possible for a person to fall in love when they've only known someone for a few days . . .”

He opens his eyes, stares into mine, and stops breathing. “I love you.”

The sun sets, turning the room a hazy gray. My back is against the wall, my butt is asleep, and the cement floor is seeping coldness through my pants and into my legs. I shiver.

Kevin's head is resting in my lap, and his left arm is cradled across his chest. His quiet snores almost drown out the occasional howling and barking of dogs. But not quite. And every time I hear them, I think of what they will be eating for breakfast and get hit with a fresh wave of sobs.

I'm exhausted, but sleep won't come. I don't know how Kevin can sleep when he is about to die, and I don't know what's worse: the thought of him being killed by the dogs or of me having to watch it. I trail my fingers through Kevin's tangled hair and stare at him, silently cursing the growing darkness for hiding him from me. I am trying to memorize everything about him, since I will never have the chance again.

When there's no light left outside the window, I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall and listen to the sounds he makes when he sleeps. They
say
they will set me free tomorrow—right after they force me to watch Kevin die in my place. I don't believe it, but at least I will live and have a chance to escape.

I wonder what Bowen and Jonah are doing right now. Hopefully they've found the cure and gotten out of here already. If it wasn't for me walking into the raider's hands, they'd probably all be on their way back to the shelter by now, and Kevin wouldn't be standing on death's threshold. If only I had stayed on the mountain, none of this ever would have happened. I am sick of making stupid mistakes!

I take a deep, unsteady breath, and time seems to stop moving. A stillness settles over me—an awareness—as if my mind has suddenly opened up and is absorbing more things than it has ever absorbed before, and I am hit with a revelation that steals my breath: if I let Kevin die for me, it will be the biggest mistake of my life, the one I will never recover from.

My head sags forward as shame overwhelms me. I have been content to let him take my place with the dogs. Worse—I've been
relieved
that he is taking it,
grateful
even. That I was willing to let him take my place at all, that he
volunteered
to do it, proves who the better person is. And the better person does not deserve to die. Especially when I am the one who got us into this mess in the first place.

Me. It has to be me in with the dogs tomorrow.

Doing the Right Thing Is Always Harder Than Doing the Wrong Thing
. Mom embroidered that the day the vagabond—Kevin—came to
our house the very first time. She cried while she sewed it but refused to tell me why. Now I understand what she meant. I lean forward and bury my face against Kevin's shoulder and start to weep. My tears soak through his shirt and my entire body begins shaking with sobs.

Kevin shifts and pulls me down, hugging me to him. “Don't cry, Jack.” His voice is raspy from sleep. “I want this. I
want
you to live a long, happy life.”

I press my face against his chest and cry harder.

I breathe in the smell of Kevin and press my hand over his beating heart, and fill myself with the knowledge that it will be beating for a long time. Moving my hand to my own chest, I feel the beating beneath fabric and skin and bone.
I'm sorry, heart
, I say to myself. It is slow and strong under my hand and not ready to be done beating.

I curl my body against Kevin's and lie limp and exhausted and completely defeated, with my head on his shoulder. If he wasn't holding me so close, I would fall away from him and lie limp on the cold, hard ground, staring up at the black ceiling.

Tomorrow I die.

I don't sleep—I'm certain of this fact—but when the door opens and two dark shapes slink inside, I wonder if I am dreaming. The door shuts and whispers fill the darkness. A light flashes on and I squint against the glow. Kevin jumps away from me and stands as I crouch on the balls of my feet in the corner of the room and wish for a weapon.

The light swoops over the floor and then flashes on the faces of the two men who have just entered. One is a grizzled bearded man who is pressing his finger to his lips. He's the guy who made chili for the raiders the afternoon I was captured—the old man who kept staring at me. He is staring at me again, furrowing his scraggly gray eyebrows. The other man is . . .

“Jonah!”

“Zeke, please tell me you're getting us out of here,” Kevin says, turning toward the old man.

“We're doing our best,” the old man—Zeke—answers. He holds something out toward me and I stand. It's my knife. I cross the room and take it from him, cradling it against my chest. “You're going to need to hide that,” he says. “It's not going to be much defense against the dogs, but it might tip the scales in your favor long enough for you to survive.”

My eyes grow round, and I wonder how this stranger knows my secret thoughts, knows that I have decided to take my death back from Kevin.

Kevin steps up beside me and reaches for the knife, but I move it before he can take it. “She's not fighting the dogs.” He reaches for the knife again, and I step away.

“Yes I am, Kevin.” Tears start welling in my eyes again. “I can't let you die for my stupid mistakes.”

“Yes you can.” His voice is hard and mad.

I shake my head. “No.”

He grabs my arm a little too tightly and reaches for the knife, but I hold it as far away from him as I can.

“Actually, there's been a change of plans. Soneschen's orders,” Jonah says. Kevin lets me go and turns to Jonah.

“Change of plans? Does Hastings know this?”

“If he does, he hasn't done anything about it,” Zeke says. “You are
both
going into the courtyard at dawn.”

“What? No!” Kevin's voice is trembling. He grabs the front of Zeke's shirt. “You've got to get Jack out of here! That's why you're here, right? To smuggle her out?”

I hold my breath and look between Kevin and Zeke.

“No rest for the weary tonight,” Zeke says. “All watches have been tripled. Every exit, every window, and every chimney has at least three men guarding it. Soneschen's got a feeling something big is about to happen.” He chuckles. “He's right, too. Just not what he's expecting. Let's get a move on, Jonah.”

Jonah rolls his shoulders and opens and closes his hands a few times. “Kevin, you're a good man. Sorry for this.” He balls his hand, pulls his arm back, and slams his fist into Kevin's chin. Kevin's entire body seems to soften and freeze, as if time has paused and the air has condensed around him. And then he crumples to the ground, mouth sagging open, eyes closed.

I fall to my knees beside Kevin and pat his cheeks. He doesn't so much as flinch. “What did you do that for, Jonah?”

“I'm trading places with him, and I don't have time for him to argue about it,” Jonah explains. He peels the sweatshirt from Kevin's limp body and pulls it over his head, puts the hood up, and turns to Zeke. “What do you think?”

Zeke shines the light on him. With Jonah's face shadowed, he could pass for Kevin. At least in the dark.

“Sag a little. Slouch. You're too tall and the shirt doesn't fit right,” Zeke says. “And pull the sleeves down over your electromagnetic cuffs.” Jonah slouches and pulls the sleeves of his
sweatshirt so they cover the half inch of metal cuffs peeking out. Zeke nods. “It might work long enough to get you in with the dogs, and once you're in, they won't be getting you out. Help me get Kev into the other room.”

Jonah bends down and lifts Kevin into his arms like Kevin doesn't weigh any more than a child. He walks out the door with him and is back in half a minute. “We found the cure,” he says, looking at me.

This news should make me glad. It should make me excited, even. I can barely muster up a weak “Oh.”

“I would have gotten here earlier, but we've been using it.”

“Wait. What? You've been using the cure?”

“Yeah.”

“On the raiders' beasts?”

Jonah shudders. “We've injected all their beasts. We've also been using it on the dogs.”

I stand a little taller. “The dogs we're fighting? They won't be beasts anymore?”

“No, not them. We couldn't get to them. They're under lock and key and being guarded by ten raiders. We've got an hour before dawn. Are you ready to fight?”

I shake my head. “Is anyone ever
ready
to face their violent death? I'm as ready as I'll ever be, but I'm scared.”

Jonah puts his hands on my shoulders. “It's okay to be scared,” he whispers. “It is better to be scared of doing the right thing, than to regret doing the wrong thing for the rest of your life.” His words almost echo my own thoughts. He squeezes my shoulders. “When I woke up after being a beast, I swore to
myself I'd never lift my hand in violence again as long as I lived. Even against an animal.”

I look at his dark silhouette. “Then why are you doing this? Why did you trade places with Kevin?”