The Letting (24 page)

“Sisters?” she asks, holding out her pinky for me.

I am struck by her word. I raise my pinky and lock it in hers, wondering if, without all of this, there might have been a day when Raven and I could have been sisters. My thoughts turn dark when I remember the last time I made a pinky promise it was with Lulu. Sadness overwhelms me.

“It will be okay.” Raven tries to comfort me.

“I hope you’re right,” I confide. “I really hope you’re right.”

Moments later, the door on the back of the truck flies open.

“Grab her,” someone orders and one of Farnsworth’s guards climbs up into the truck and takes me by the arm.

“Stay safe,” I whisper to Raven, who manages to sneak out the back without being seen. I pray no one knows who I’m talking to. “You need to go. Get the others and leave this place.” I speak to her back as she runs away. I know Farnsworth will come after them next, the last remaining O’s. “Find your brother if you can. Stay safe and stay together,” I call after her as they lead me off.

I watch over my shoulder to see that Raven makes it to her cabin without being spotted. They walk me to another far cabin, one that we hardly use, the Infirmary. Once I see it, I know exactly what is going to happen.

“Is he hurt?” I ask, panic overwhelming me. This is too fast. It’s all happening too fast. No one will answer me so there’s only one thing I can do. Quickly, I stuff the last two mushrooms into my mouth. It’s a risk, sure, but if I’m dying anyway, I may as well try to take him down with me. Then, maybe by some miracle, Phoenix can break free of this place and right our upside down world. I feel the effects of the mushrooms almost immediately. My stomach begins to cramp and I double over, groaning. Then the cramps move higher, and I am certain I’ll vomit. I can’t. Whatever I do, I have to keep these mushrooms down. I breathe deeply and try to relax my stomach. It knows these mushrooms. It just doesn’t know them in this quantity. I can keep these down. I can do it. By the time we reach the Infirmary, my cramps have subsided some, but they’ve been replaced by blurry vision. Everything around me seems cloudy and thick. I see lights flashing, and there is a constant dull ache at the very back of my tongue where it meets my throat. Waves of nausea grip me, and I hold onto the guard’s jacket for dear life. He doesn’t flinch. I stumble up the steps to the Infirmary and fall inside. I am doubled over on the floor, my body starts trembling and then shaking, violently. Someone picks me up and lays me on a table.

I stare up at the ceiling of the Infirmary, and it seems anything but cold and sterile like the Letting room of the facility where they kept me. This is my camp. This is my home. If they’re going to drain me to death, it might as well be here. I got the girls back to the camp, and Phoenix, if he can stay alive, will take care of them. I know it. I’m sorry it’s the end for me, but as I force down another wave of nausea, I know I’ve done my part as best I can. Even my old friend, hope, seems to be packing up, getting ready to leave me and move on. But before hope is gone entirely, there is one thing left to wish for, that is the mushrooms take effect before they Let me.

I am alone for whole minutes and glad I’ve overdosed on those mushrooms, because if I hadn’t, my instinct would be to get up and run. But this way, I have no choice. I simply do not have the strength to move, so my blood will be pumped out of me and into Farnsworth, where it will poison him, hopefully. I hear voices outside the Infirmary door, and I stretch my neck to see who’s speaking, but my vision has nearly failed. The best I can do is hear what people are saying and wait for something to happen to me. For someone who’s always been in control of every situation, it’s a harrowing experience to do nothing but wait, paralyzed. I hear the door slam shut, and I can tell at least two people are standing near me.

“Why is she so out of it?” one asks.

“Beat’s me. But who cares,” the other voice answers. “She’s got the O.” I can feel them touching the pressure points on me, looking for veins that are plump. There was no time to make sure I was fully hydrated, no concern for heart rate monitors, no huge machine with knobs and buttons. It is just two people and me, and I imagine, many, many vials to collect my blood. For a fleeting moment, I wonder how they’ll do the transfusion of my blood back into Farnsworth, but I let it go. It’s just not my concern. I hear the sounds of many jars and drawers being opened and closed, and then I feel the cold, slick wipe of the alcohol on my arms and feet. Then I feel the prick, first one, and then three more. Four draw sites. But at least this time they’ll be using vials, so it will take a significant amount of time for them to drain me completely.

I begin to fade away. I hear their voices, fading in and out, and I feel the pressure of the vials being filled and replaced every so often. They talk as if I wasn’t about to die. They complete their business without knowing this incredibly valuable blood they are carrying will kill their leader. I feel the corners of my mouth turn up into a small smile. If I have accomplished nothing else in my life, at least I will be responsible for stopping Farnsworth.

What happens from there is up to someone else.

I hear less and less of their idle conversation, and now I hear a siren, wailing. I know I must be dreaming because I see myself back in the city park, stepping over the animal clock that lies dormant on the street. My mother stands just a little ways from me in a bed of dandelions. I begin walking toward her, but every time I take another step, she backs away. I move more quickly and yet she seems to keep pace with me. Then she lifts her hand and points into the park, and I see Phoenix, looking so very worried, standing there with his shirt opened and his gun slung across his shoulder.

“Ronnie,” he cries. “Come with me.”

I keep trying to tell him I’m okay and that this is my mother, but I know he can’t hear what I’m saying, and he still looks terribly concerned.

He beckons to me to go with him, but there is another force, bigger than me, making me walk toward my mother. Finally, she lifts her hand, and I think I can make it to her to take it. Instead, she reaches up and blows me a kiss. I begin to cry uncontrollably, my body convulses, and I drop to the ground. I can’t lose her again. I just can’t. I try to crawl along the ground after her, but she is moving much faster than I can. Suddenly, I stop and vomit all over a patch of dandelions at my knees.

“That’s it,” I hear Phoenix saying. “That’s it.”

But I can’t see him, and I can’t understand what he means. Again and again, I vomit until there is nothing left to wretch except bitter tasting bile. My head hangs low, and I fight to breathe.

“Take a breath,” Phoenix murmurs, stroking my hair, “take a breath.”

I drag in a long, labored breath, and Phoenix pulls me to my feet.

Suddenly, I am back at the Infirmary, but there is no one here except Phoenix and me. Or so I think. I can barely make out the sight of a gagged and bound Lettor, tethered to a pole on the far side of the Infirmary. He fights to break free of his binds, but he’s unable.

“Did I survive?” I ask, and Phoenix holds me by the waist.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I don’t know how, but thank God you did.”

“I did.” I smile at Phoenix. His face is the last thing I remember before I slip into complete blackness.

Chapter Nineteen

When I awaken, I find myself lying on a strange, small cot in a tiny cabin. I sit up panicked, wondering where I am. The room spins, and I drop back down onto the cot.

“No,” a voice cautions, a voice I know well. It’s Phoenix. He rushes to my side. “Don’t move so quickly. Go easy.” He helps me to sit up. “You’re here with me. Everything is okay.” He sits next to me, and I let my entire body rest against his chest.

“The blood?” I ask, my throat raw and scratchy. Phoenix fetches me some water, and I drink it down so quickly I choke.

“Easy.” He pats my back and takes the canteen from me. I pull the canteen back and slug at it again. I stop when I drain the water dry. I sit there, panting, trying to catch my breath.

“The blood?” I ask again, my voice a bit stronger. “Farnsworth? My girls?”

“I wish I had an answer for you,” he tells me. “Midway through the emergency Letting, the alarms sounded through the camp…”

“The sirens, I heard them.” Phoenix nods. “Rebels?” I ask.

“Worse.” He looks at the ground. “Gunnar.”

“Gunnar’s back?” I ask, stunned.

“Yes, and he’s not alone. He had a group with him of at least sixty very angry and very hungry rebels. He came walking into the camp like it was his. The men started shooting randomly. It was chaos.”

“The girls?” I ask. “What happened to all of the girls?”

“Most of them were left alone. Gunnar’s beef isn’t with children. It’s with Farnsworth.”

“We have to get back to camp!” The panic in me makes my head woozy. I develop a booming headache and force myself to sit forward, rubbing my temples fiercely.

“They’re okay,” Phoenix assures me. “They’ve left Margaret in charge, and Gretchen has stepped up to help her.”

“And they’ve killed Farnsworth?” I ask. I am somewhat saddened I put myself through this agony for nothing.

“No. He’s escaped. As soon as his entourage got wind of an organized rebel attack they packed him, and your blood, up and headed back to the Inferno.”

I nod. “Gunnar’s earlier than we anticipated, but not much else has changed in our plan,” I say, trying hard to focus. “Farnsworth will still be getting my poisoned blood. And he will die. But now you won’t have just the insurmountable task of winning over spoiled, rich people who kill our children to preserve their own beauty. Now you have to do that and battle Gunnar. Wow.” I hold my head.

“Yes, wow,” Phoenix agrees, his hand resting on my back. “Why did you do it, Ron?” His tone has changed noticeably. “Why did you eat all the mushrooms at once?”

“I thought for sure the Lettors were going to kill me. I thought I’d better try my best to do anything and everything I could to stop Farnsworth.”

“I understand. But they didn’t kill you last time. So what if they weren’t planning to this time either? Then what about me? What about us? Didn’t you think of what it would be like for me if you were gone?”

I shake my head.

“There wasn’t time for that luxury,” I explain, saddened.

“You can’t think like that.” His hand rubs my back.

“How else can we think?” I ask, looking at him. I am so weak just turning my head makes me swoon. He offers me more support with his arm around my waist.

“I used to think I knew what I was doing,” he confides. “I had a definite plan, with a beginning, middle, and end. I also believed there was a finite amount of room in one’s heart, and once you filled it with a passion, like the revolution, there was no room for anything or anyone else. But that’s all crap, because then I met you, and I realized the reason I thought I hated you so very much—” I flinch but he puts up his hand so I let him finish. “The reason I thought I hated you so very much was because you stirred these feelings in me I didn’t even know existed. And it scared me, terrified me, until I realized these feelings meant I was alive, and you are the reason I want to live.”

“I am?” I ask, searching his eyes.

“Yes.” He moves a piece of hair from my face. “So to think there’s no time for us is letting Farnsworth win completely. To be so focused on the revolution and stopping Farnsworth that we forget ourselves, is to give him ultimate control over us. His father outlawed relationships between a boy and a girl, unless they were a blood match, and developed the Couplings. Farnsworth took his ideas and ran with them. They have taken our blood and our basic human needs, and profited off them. What they can’t take is what’s in here.” He places his hand on my heart. “Your spirit, which you have a whole hell of a lot of.” He laughs, softly. “And your heart. Whatever is in there is yours to keep. He can drain your blood, but he can’t drain you, Ronnie. And he can’t ever change what’s in there unless you let him.”

“I’m so…” I begin to say, completely overwhelmed and unable to make sense of the situation. But somehow my head feels clearer and my stomach rumbles. He gets up without saying a word and comes back with an empty plate. He hands it to me and I stare at it, hoping there’s more than nothing. Then he pulls a can of something from his pocket and takes it to a small table in the corner of the cabin. He picks up a large knife and in one swift motion, stabs the top of the can and manages to peel back the lid. He comes over to me and dumps the entire can out, onto my plate.

“What is it?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“Ravioli.”

“Where did you get this?”

“In the kitchen at camp. Some had just come in as an answer to your demand for real food.”

I don’t wait for a fork or even really pay attention to what he’s saying. As fast as I can, I lift one slippery, cold ravioli and stuff it into my mouth. It tastes like aluminum and spicy sauce and stale cheese and pure heaven. I stuff in another three more raviolis and hold my plate out to offer him some. He shakes his head, smiling, and I realize he’s holding a fork for me. I grab the fork away and dive back into the pasta. I don’t come up for a breath until the entire plate is empty.

“I really hope you didn’t want any. Hope you weren’t just being polite.”

“No, I’m fine.” He’s beaming at me. He stands on the other side of the cabin, watching me as we speak.

“Well, thanks, Phoenix,” I say. “Really, for all of it. For rescuing me and feeding me and helping me. Always.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“No?”

“No. I’ve never thought about it at all. I just did what my heart told me to do.”

I smile at him, but looking at my empty plate, my brain goes elsewhere.

“What about Willy?” I ask. I’m frightened by the possibilities, but I need to know.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He looks at the ground. “I’m sure they went into the kitchen for supplies, but I can’t imagine they would have a problem with Willy. Maybe they are just having him cook for them. They need someone to feed them.”

I nod, hoping he’s right. It’s a plausible explanation. It’s just that it’s Gunnar, and nothing that Gunnar has done has ever made sense. I look around. I am still weak but finally, I can begin to make out our surroundings.