Renegade (11 page)

I
leaped up and ran. There was a low wall ahead, so I darted to the left. A moment later, a bullet grazed the brick—another lucky escape.

Surrendering wasn't an option. I could as easily die later as now, so I pushed onward.

I don't know why I changed direction again—maybe it was Alice's voice in my head—but something told me I had to, that until I was out of range, running in a straight line was just making the pirate's job easier. After that, I zigzagged through the battered remains of Skeleton Town, always keeping the ship in my sights. Sounds of gunfire shattered the quiet, but it wasn't long before the shots grew fewer. Then they stopped.

I was out of range.

The shoreline was only a half mile away. A mixture of sweat and blood dripped down my face and along my arms as I willed myself to keep sprinting. My legs felt bludgeoned. My lungs screamed. The wound in my chest had reopened yet again. I welcomed the feeling of panic—it was all that kept me from breaking down.

A quarter mile to go and I was slowing. I forced out one step after another, but the footing grew softer as I approached the shoreline. It wasn't like running on sand, but it was close.

Shouts from nearby jolted me. I looked over my shoulder and saw four pirates running after me, rifles slung across their backs. They were fresh. Their pace was faster. Even if they didn't catch me, they'd be within range again soon.

I thought of Alice lying on the ground, covered in rats. Brave Alice. She'd given the order to run, but had let me go first. It should've been
her
running to the ship as the rats picked
me
to pieces. She'd sacrificed herself for me. I couldn't let her down.

Two hundred yards to go. A shot rang out. It missed, but I imagined the bullet slicing through the air beside me. More shouting. And something dark in my peripheral vision.

I glanced left and right. Somehow rats were converging on me again. But they couldn't have made it from the street already, which meant that these were different rats. I'd thought there were thousands of rats, but I was wrong. There were tens of thousands. Maybe a hundred thousand. Enough to wipe out every human being. And Jossi and the boy controlled them.

Solution is death,
Tessa had said. Finally I realized what she had meant by that. She hadn't been talking about Griffin at all. No wonder she'd been so desperate for me to stay on the ship.

I pounded out one stride after another, keeping an equal distance from both packs of rats. The ground was marshy here, but that would be harder for the rats than for me. The pirates, on the other hand—

The sound of the gunshot hit me at the same moment as the bullet itself. There was a flash of white-hot pain as it grazed my arm, followed by a dull heat. Exhausted, delirious, I told myself that he'd missed. I took it as a sign that I was winning.

I wasn't aware of the moment that land gave way to water. I just kept going until I couldn't bring my legs above the surface. Then I began swimming. My right arm wouldn't rise as high as my left, but I dragged it up and around anyway. My legs, still burning, flapped against the water.

Another bullet zipped through the water next to me. The pirates would be closing in again. How far would I be from the shore when they got there? Fifty yards? Less? Close enough that they could hit me with ease, that much was certain. My strokes were useless now.

Another shot, and another, so close that I felt the bullets shift the water beside me. I wasn't going to get away after all. I knew that now.

With a last look at the ship in the distance, I took a deep breath and dove underwater. I counted eight strokes and resurfaced. Another breath. Under again. I only managed five strokes this time. I had no idea if I was still heading for the ship.

Something slapped at my arms—a bullet, I thought. I broke the surface and dove under again. The slapping resumed, and it wasn't bullets, or a fish. I flailed my arms, trying to fight off whatever it was, but it pressed against me, holding me tightly.

That's when I realized it was a person. Someone with the element of water.

I couldn't see anything, but I figured it must be Rose. I was too disoriented to wonder how she had recovered from her injuries enough to help me. I just relaxed into her arms and let her speed me along. The pressure of the water against my head was proof of how quickly we were moving. In moments I would be out of range of the gunmen. There was no way they'd be able to catch up to me now.

As my breath was about to give out, we surfaced momentarily. In that instant, I discovered that it wasn't Rose at all. It was Marin.

We went under again. Her legs fluttered behind us, as quick as a butterfly's wings and as powerful as a pelican's. The next time we emerged, I couldn't see the shore at all because we were hidden behind the ship.

Things happened around me in a blur of motion. A rope landed beside me, but I couldn't think of what to do with it.

“Climb, Thomas,” came a voice from above us. “You must climb.”

Still I stared at the rope. Beside me, Marin floated on her back, face frozen in an agonized mask. I couldn't piece it all together.

“She'll be all right,” Tarn implored me. “She just needs time to recover.”

It was my echo again. During the few days we'd spent on Sumter, I'd been able to stop obsessing about every fleeting touch. Now that we were on Roanoke, the memories of everyone I'd ever hurt came flooding back.

Add Marin to that list. She'd known what rescuing me would entail, and she'd come anyway. But
why
? She hated me.

I grasped the rope and eased it around her torso and under her armpits, careful not to touch her. I tied it off with a double hitch knot. I didn't want her to drift away from the ship—even someone with the element of water could, presumably, drown.

Tarn had tied her end of the rope to the ship's railing. Hand over hand, feet coiled around the rope, I began to climb. I thought of Rose in the ship, and Alice in Skeleton Town, and almost gave up. Then I glimpsed Marin below me, and Tarn above, leaning over the rail, straining to help me back on board. Just two more pulls and I'd be there.

I lost my grip as I reached for the rail, but Tarn had a tight hold on my tunic. She heaved me over the rail and onto the deck.

“You've got to help me get Marin up here,” she said. “That woman just saved your life. Now it's time for you to save hers.”

She pulled me to a stand and we took the rope. Gradually we pulled Marin from the water. When she was almost at rail level I anchored my feet against the edge of the ship and leaned back, a counterbalance to her weight. Tarn dragged her aboard.

We were sprawled across the deck. To the east, wisps of smoke skidded above Skeleton Town. How were the others doing? Was I a coward for leaving them?

Tarn followed my eyes. “What happened over there, Thomas?” she asked.

What
had
happened? And how could I begin to explain. “It was . . . an ambush.”

“We heard shots. Is anyone hurt?”

“I don't think anyone was shot. But the others have been captured. And there are rats. Lots of them.”

Tarn looked over my body—took in the blood streaks and the bite marks. “How many rats?”

“Thousands.”

I wanted to see Griffin, but now I was pleased that he wasn't with us. How could I explain that after all these years, he wasn't the only solution? How could I put everything that had happened into signs when I couldn't find the words?

“The pirates control the rats,” I said. “They used them to round us up. To trap us.”

“That's impossible. They just made you
think
they can do that.”

“I saw—”

“What they wanted you to see.” Tarn huffed. “An element like that couldn't have arisen until
after
the Exodus and the Plague. That's the way elements evolve—in response to external change. Since every one of the pirates was born
before
the Plague, they couldn't possess such an ability.”

“But the
boy
wasn't born before the Plague.”

“What boy?” Tarn's expression shifted—no longer dismissive, but concerned. “What are you talking about?”

“A boy who came from the clan ship that's moored to the northwest of Roanoke.” I pointed, but the mast was obscured by trees.

“If there's a clan ship, then where are the clan folk? You can't believe a boy sailed that ship through the Oregon Inlet by himself.”

I shrugged. These were reasonable questions, but I had no answers. Nothing made sense anymore. “Tessa said the solution is death,” I reminded her. “What if Griffin isn't the real solution? What if that boy on Roanoke is instead?”

Tarn looked at Marin. She wanted another Guardian to help her make sense of everything. But Marin hadn't moved. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest convinced me that she was still alive.

“I need to go back,” I said. “I have to help them.”

“No. You need to rest.”

“Your daughter is over there.”

“Yes, she is. But making another hasty decision won't turn back time. What we need now is a plan.”

I thought about this. “Actually, what we need is answers. And I know who has them.”

I dragged myself off the deck and lumbered toward the stairs. I never made it to Tessa's cabin, though. Because halfway down the stairwell, listening in, was a perfectly healthy girl.

It wasn't until Nyla spoke that I was sure I wasn't seeing a ghost.

N
yla bit her lip, as if she were waiting for me to appraise her and was nervous about what I'd say. But what
could
I say? The lumps on her neck had disappeared. The skin was still dark from bruising, but there were no blemishes, or fever. No more pain.

“You're cured,” I murmured. It was a pointless, self-evident thing to say, but I had to say it to make it real. “How?”

She shrugged. “Griffin.”

“Where is he now?”

Nyla lowered her eyes. “In the cabin. Sleeping.”

Why would Griffin be sleeping in the middle of the day? When we'd left a few strikes earlier, he'd been feeling better.

I didn't bother to ask which cabin he was in. I knew where I'd find him.

Griffin was lying on the floor, sweating, teeth chattering. He looked even worse than Rose. Yet, through it all, he smiled.
Save. Nyla,
he signed.
Me. Solution.

He had no idea about the boy on Roanoke, or the rats. As far as Griffin was concerned, he was the solution, and his version of the solution didn't equal death at all.

I knelt beside him. I wanted to hold him, but I couldn't—it would hurt him even more. And so with nothing else to do, I broke down in tears. Tears for those I'd left behind on Roanoke, and for Rose and Dennis, and for Griffin, who'd hurt himself to save another.

“Where's my brother?” Nyla stood in the doorway. “Where's Alice?”

“They're still on Roanoke,” I told her. “Now you tell me: How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“We don't have time for this!” I didn't want to be mean to her—not with Ananias captured on Roanoke—but I had to know. “How did Griffin cure you?”

“We just held hands.”

“You're lying. I saw Griffin touch you earlier. There was something wrong.”

Griffin signed for me to stop—he could see that Nyla was frightened. But when he beckoned her to join him, she wouldn't. She wanted to keep her distance. It was as though she was afraid of stealing even more of his strength. Or hurting him.

Almost like me, in fact.

“What's your element, Nyla?”

She hesitated. “I don't know.”

“Your brother's being held at gunpoint. If we're going to help him, we cannot have secrets. You have to tell us about your element.”

“How can I?” she snapped. “How do
you
explain what you are? . . . What you can do?”

Tarn had helped Marin below deck now. They stood behind Nyla, but hearing this, they shrank back. It was instinct, the realization that, like me, she could hurt them without even meaning to. Especially when she was agitated.

“You have
my
element,” I said.

Nyla pursed her lips. “It's not
your
element, Thomas. It's
an
element, and I hate it as much as you do.”

Ideas raced through my mind, then—answers to questions I'd never thought to ask. “That's how you got the ship moving when we escaped from Sumter, isn't it? You took over Rose's element.”

“I'd seen Rose catching fish, so I knew she had the element of water. But I didn't know we'd be strong enough for that.” There wasn't a hint of triumph in her voice. The element was as much a burden to her as it was to me.

“So Griffin cured you by combining?”

“No. We tried that. It didn't work. So I took over his element. Cured myself by draining him.” She bit her lip. “That's what you want to hear, right? That I hurt Griffin to save myself. That I could be more like you than anyone else, and still be
less
than you—less thoughtful, less kind . . .”

Her eyes welled. Having admitted everything, she couldn't bring herself to look at Griffin at all. But I could, and there was no mistaking the look on his face. The discomfort was still there, but he was smiling right through it. For the first time, his suffering was meaningful. There was a purpose to his pain.

I. Save. Rose. Now,
he signed, bowing his head toward the figures on the floor.
Save. Dennis.

Marin had been leaning against Tarn for support, but Griffin's promise seemed to give her strength. “Can he do that?”

“No,” I said. “He's too weak.”

“And so am I! Or did you think that rescuing you was easy for me? That holding you against me as I swam through the sound didn't rob me of my strength.” Her clothes dripped onto the wooden floor.

“But he doesn't even know what happened. Nyla took over his element.”

“Because I
had
to,” insisted Nyla. “I couldn't give him my element and take his at the same time. I had to take it all, just like he said I would.”

“Wait. Griffin told you to do it?”

“Of course he did. Maybe he could cure someone else just by touching them, but not me. And not you.”

Marin slipped to the floor and rested her chin on her knees. “Look at me, Thomas. I
broke
myself to save you because it was the right thing to do. And because Rose would never forgive me if I hadn't.”

Hearing her name, I glanced at Rose. I'd been putting it off, I now realized, aware that she was only getting sicker. But I hadn't realized how
much
worse. She and Dennis were sweating so hard that their clothes were as saturated as mine. But somehow her Plague seemed farther along than his—maybe because she'd been so sick before she was bitten.

I. Save. Her,
signed Griffin. He even seemed excited by the prospect, as if his life had no greater purpose than this.

There was silence. Then: “Can he?” whispered Rose.

The answer was clearly
no
—Griffin needed time to recover. Since he couldn't be trusted to look out for himself, he needed me to do it for him. But Rose was slipping away with every passing strike. How could I deny her the chance to be cured? How could I deny Griffin the chance to cure her?

“You'd need me to combine with him,” I told Rose. “He's weak.”

“I'll do it,” said Nyla.

“You've only just been cured.”

“And you've only just returned from Roanoke. I think I'm stronger than you are.”

I moved aside so that Griffin and Nyla could kneel beside Rose. But Rose shook her head gently. “No. Dennis first.”

I felt a rush of panic. “But you're weaker than him.”

“Don't care. Dennis goes first, or I won't go at all.”

I turned to Marin, pleading with my eyes for her to talk some sense into Rose. But when Marin broke eye contact, I knew that she wouldn't say a word.

Dennis rolled toward his sister and took her hand. “I won't do it,” he said.

“Yes, you will.” She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. “You
must
. They need you. You're special.”

“But—”

“I'm next. I promise.”

What if there isn't a next?
I wanted to shout. But Griffin and Nyla were already lining up alongside Dennis. There was nothing I could do to stop them, either. Rose had made her feelings clear. In a way, Marin had too.

With a deep breath, Griffin gave Nyla his left hand and placed his right on Dennis's chest. There was something strange about the image, but it took me a moment to realize what it was: For years, no one had willingly touched Griffin because of his ability to foresee a person's death. But there was no hesitation now. What was the use in waiting, when the pallor of almost-death already hung over Dennis's skinny body?

I didn't expect to see the cure unfolding before us. It seemed logical to me that any transformation would take time, the Plague driven out a little more with each breath, each heartbeat. But I was wrong.

Dennis's color changed right before us. His cheeks turned red and sweat beaded on his forehead. His teeth chattered. Then the swelling around his neck and under his armpits reduced, leaving only shadowy outlines. It happened so quickly that Dennis seemed surprised when Griffin let go.

It was the miracle Dare had predicted, a solution to humanity's greatest threat. Griffin was changing the world, right before our eyes.

I looked at my brother, unable to conceal a smile. I figured that Griffin would smile right back at me, proud of what he'd done. Instead his eyes were closed, and his head lolled from side to side. His breaths were rapid and uneven.

Then he passed out.

Nyla was afraid to touch him in case she made things worse. I felt powerless too. So it was Marin who shuffled over, lifted his head, and slid a rolled-up blanket underneath. Then she wrapped her arms around Dennis.

“I feel . . . fine,” he said. “It was like he was giving me life.”

Rose watched her younger brother, a smile playing on her lips. But there were tears too as she took in the sight of Griffin, out cold on the floor.

Dennis pulled away from his mother. He was probably eager to move about after so much time cramped inside the cabin. He stepped to the porthole and savored the feel of the sun on his face. Resting his head against the wall, he peered outside. “What's that?” he asked.

I joined him, but all I saw was the dark sound stretching toward the shore.

“In the water there,” he tried again.

Tarn stepped quickly over to us. She peered outside, eyes narrowed, seeing things that the rest of us couldn't. “Oh no,” she said.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Get on deck,” she yelled. “Do it
now
.”

Dennis, completely recovered, was first to react. Tarn was right behind him. Nyla and I hesitated a moment, partly because we were both exhausted and maybe because we didn't want to leave Griffin. But the horror in Tarn's voice propelled us along the corridor and up the stairs. Marin was behind us, but she was in even worse shape—spent, weak, useless.

From the higher vantage point, the water no longer appeared uniformly dark. Instead, like a cresting wave, a clear straight line separated the regular gray-green water from a swathe of advancing black.

But it was the noise that really made me sick—thousands of tiny breathy squeaks. The rats were coming for us. And they only had twenty yards to go.