DUTTON BOOKS 21 страница

My Official didn’t know who put Ky into the Matching pool.

But I do know that part of it. At least, I can sort through the data and guess.

It was me.

I put him in without knowing what I was doing. And then someone—myself, or one of the others in the room—paired him, and Xander, with me.

Did my Official ever find out? Could she have predicted this as the final outcome? Did she even survive the Plague and the mutation?

Out of all the people in the Society, were Ky and Xander really the two I fit best with? Wouldn’t the Society have noticed that I had two Matches, or have some fail-safe to catch such an occurrence? Or did the Society not even have a procedure in place for something like that, believing that it would never happen, trusting in their own data and their belief that there could be only one perfect Match for each person?

So many questions, and I may never have the answers.

I don’t want to ask too much of my mother, now that she’s just come back, but she is strong. So was my father. I realize now how much courage it takes to choose the life you want, whatever it might be.

“Grandfather,” I say. “He was a member of the Rising. He stole from the Society.”

My mother takes the plant from me and nods. “Yes,” she says. “He took artifacts from the Restoration sites where he worked. But he didn’t steal from the Society on behalf of the Rising. That was his own personal mission.”

“Was he an Archivist?” I ask, my heart sinking.

“No,” my mother says, “but he did trade with them.”

“Why?” I ask. “What did he want?”

“Nothing for himself,” my mother says. “He traded to arrange for passage for Anomalies and Aberrations out of the Provinces.”

No wonder Grandfather seemed so surprised when I told him about the microcard and how I’d been Matched with an Aberration. He hoped they’d all been saved.

The irony is impossible to ignore. Grandfather was trying to help those people by getting them out of the Society; I sorted them in to the Matching pool . We both thought we were doing the right thing.

The Society and the Rising used me when they needed me, dropped me when they didn’t. But Grandfather always knew I was strong, always believed in me. He believed I could go without the green tablet, that I could get my memories back from the red. I wonder what he’d think if he knew that I also walked through the blue.

CHAPTER 57

KY

We have a lead,” the Pilot says.

I don’t need to ask On what? The lead is always for the same thing—a potential location for the flower that provides the cure.

“Where?” I ask.

“I’m sending you the coordinates now,” the Pilot says. The printer on my control panel begins spitting out information. “It’s a small town in Sonoma.”

That’s the Province where Indie was from. “Is it near the sea?” I ask.

“No,” the Pilot says, “the desert. But our source was sure of the location. She remembered the name of the town.”

“And the source of the information ” I say, though I think I already know.

“Cassia’s mother,” the Pilot says. “She came back.”

As I fly in from the east, I see a long stretch of fields, away from the city, where the earth is all turned over. It’s morning. There is dew on the dirt of the fields, so they shine a little like a sea when the sun hits just right.

Don’t get your hopes up, I tell myself. We’ve thought we had curefields before, and then there were only a few flowers.

The lines from the Thomas poem come to my mind:

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

This might be the last wave by, the last chance we have to cure a significant amount of people before they go too far under. These deeds—our flying, Cassia’s sorting, Xander’s curing—will either be frail or bright.

Two ships sit near the field.

On the outside, I don’t hesitate—I start to bring the ship down. But inside I always have a catch when I see other ships waiting. Who’s piloting them? Right now the Society seems dormant, and the Pilot and his rebellion securely in charge, thanks to the cure he brought back from the mountains. His people keep order; under their supervision, workers distribute the last of the food stockpiles. People who aren’t sick stay in their homes, the immune help tend the still, and a tenuous and impermanent order exists. For now, the Pilot has enough respect from all the pilots and the officers to keep control, and the Society has drawn back from the Rising, allowing them to proceed in finding more flowers for the cure. But someday they’ll be back. And someday, the people are going to have to decide what it is that they want.

We just have to cure enough of them first.

I bring my ship down on the long deserted road where the others landed.

The Pilot comes to meet me, and in the distance I see an air car hovering in from the direction of the city.

“The officers think they’ve found someone who can help us,” the Pilot says. “A man who knew the person who planted these fields and is willing to talk about it.”

The two of us cross the grassy ditch between the field and the dusty road. Spirals of barbed wire fence in the area. But I can already see the lilies.

They stick out at awkward angles from the little hills and valleys of turned-over dirt, but there they are—white flowers waving banners over the cure. I reach through the wire and turn one toward us; its shape is perfect. Three curved petals make up the bloom, with a trace of red on the inside.

“The Society plowed them under last year,” the man from the town says, coming up behind us. “But this spring, they all came up.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know how many of us even noticed or thought to come out here, with the Plague.”

“You can eat the bulb for food,” the Pilot says. “Did you know that?”

“No,” the man says.

“Who planted the fields before the Society bulldozed them over?” the Pilot asks.

“A man named Jacob Childs,” the man says. “I’m not supposed to remember that the fields were plowed under, but I do. And I’m not supposed to remember that they took Jacob away. But they did.”

“We need to arrange a careful harvest of these bulbs,” the Pilot says. “Can you help us with that? Do you know people who would be willing to work?”

“Yes,” says the man. “Not many. Most are sick or hiding.”

“We’ll bring our own people in, too,” the Pilot says. “But we need to get started immediately.”

A slight wind ruffles the flowers. They’re little waves dancing in their green bay of grass.

Days later, I’m on my way back from taking another round of cures to Central when the Pilot’s voice comes over the speaker again. His voice startles me and so does the timing of his communication—does he know what I have planned? My flying shouldn’t have given him any indication yet. The path he assigned me was perfect, close enough to where I need to be that I can do what I have to do.

“There’s no record of the man named Jacob Childs,” the Pilot says. “He’s vanished.”

“That’s not surprising,” I say. “I’m sure the Society didn’t waste any time Reclassifying him and sending him out to die.”

“I also had them run a search for Patrick and Aida Markham,” the Pilot tells me. “They are nowhere in the databases, Society or Rising.”

“Thank you for taking the time to look,” I say. There are plenty of us who want to know about family, but we have limited resources for searching, even through the data.

“I can’t have you looking for them now,” the Pilot says. “We still need you and your ship for the cure.”

“I understand,” I say. “I’ll look for them on my own time.”

“You don’t have any of your own time right now,” the Pilot says. “Your rest hours are intended to be exactly that. We can’t have you flying exhausted.”

“I have to find them,” I tell him. I owe them everything. Through Anna, I learned what Patrick and Aida traded and sacrificed—even more than I’d originally thought. I ask the Pilot something that I could never have questioned him about before. “Isn’t there anyone,” I say, “that you still have to find?”

I’ve gone too far. The Pilot doesn’t answer.

I look down at the dark land below and the bright lights coming into view, right where they should be.

In the weeks that I’ve been flying out the cure, I’ve stopped in every Province in the Society several times over.

Except Oria.

The Pilot won’t let any of us land in the Provinces where we’re from, because we’ll know too many people there and we’ll be tempted to change the pattern of the cure.

“There were people I had to find,” the Pilot says finally, “but I knew where I needed to look. This is like trying to find a stone in the Sisyphus River. You don’t even know where to begin. It would take too long. Now. But later, you can.”

I don’t answer him. We both know that later often means too late.

The cure works, and so does Cassia’s sorting, telling us where to go next. We’re saving the optimal amount of people. She tells us what she thinks we should do, the computers and other sorters corroborate it—her mind is as fine and clear as anything in this world.

But we’re not saving everyone. Of the still who go down, about eleven percent do not come back at all. And other patients succumb to infections.

I bring the ship in lower.

“I thought I made it clear that you couldn’t look for them now,” the Pilot says.

“You did,” I say. “I’m not going to make people die while I hunt for something I might not find.”

“Then what are you doing?” the Pilot asks me.

“I need to land here,” I say.

“They’re not in Oria,” the Pilot says. “Cassia found it extremely unlikely that they would be anywhere in that Province.”

“She put the highest likelihood that they died out in the Outer Provinces,” I say. “Didn’t she?”

The Pilot pauses for a moment. “Yes,” he says.

I circle until I see a good place for a landing. Over the Hill I go, and I wonder where the green silk from Cassia’s dress is now—a little tattered banner under the sky buried in the ground. Or bleaching out in the sun. Bleeding away in the rain. Blowing away on the wind.

“Oria’s still volatile, and you’re a resource,” the Pilot says. “You need to come in.”

“It won’t take long,” I repeat, and then I bring the ship around and drop down. This ship isn’t like the one the Pilot flies. Mine can’t switch over to propellers and a tighter landing the way his can.

The street will barely be long enough but I know every bit of it. I walked it for all those years. With Patrick and Aida, and they were usually holding hands.

The wheels hit the ground and the metal sails of the ship shift, creating drag and slowing me down. Houses rush past, and at the end of the street I stop the ship right in time. Through my window, I could see into the ones of the house in front of me if the people inside didn’t have their shutters drawn tight.

I climb out of the ship and move as fast as I can. I only have a few houses to go. The flowers in the gardens haven’t been weeded. They grow thick and untended. I pause at the door of the house where Em used to live. The windows are broken. I look inside, but it’s empty, and has been for a long enough time that there are leaves on the floor. They must have blown in from another Borough, since ours no longer has trees.

I keep going.

When I was still, I heard what Anna said about my parents and about Patrick and Aida and Matthew. My mother and father couldn’t get me out. So, when they died, they sent me in as close as they could and hoped that would work. And Patrick and Aida welcomed me and loved me like their own.

I’ll never forget Aida’s screams and Patrick’s face when the Officials took me away, or how they kept reaching for me and for each other.

The Society knew what they were doing when they Matched Patrick and Aida.

If I’d been the one Matched with Cassia, if I’d known I could have eighty years of a good life and most of it spent with her, I wonder if I would have had the strength to try to take the Society down.

Xander did.

I walk up the pathway and knock on the door of the house where he used to live.

CHAPTER 58

XANDER

In the past few weeks we’ve had several breakthroughs in administering the cure. First were the fields Cassia’s mother told us about, which allowed us to make more of the cure and get it out to people quickly. Then we figured out how to synthesize the proteins of the sego lily in the laboratory. The best minds left in the Rising and the Society have come together to try to make this work.

So far, it has. People are getting better. And if the mutation comes back, we have a cure. Unless, of course, the virus changes again. But, for now, the data says that the worst has passed. I wouldn’t trust the data except that Cassia’s the one who sorted it.

Now we’re heading toward a different time: once people are well, they will need to choose what kind of world it is that they want to live in. I don’t know that we’re going to come through that as well as we came through the Plague.

“You saved the world,” my father likes to say.

“It was luck,” I tell him. “We’ve always been lucky.”

And we have. Take a look at my family. My brother went back to the Borough from Oria City when the Plague first broke, and they all managed to keep from getting sick until near the end. And even when they did fall ill, Ky arrived just in time to bring them back here so we could heal them.

“We tried to hold the Borough together,” my father says.

To his credit, they did. They rationed and shared the food and looked after each other for as long as they could.

It’s not like they did anything wrong. My family has always believed that if you worked hard and did the right thing, you were likely to have it all work out. And they’re not stupid. They know it doesn’t always go that way. They’ve seen terrible things happen and it’s torn them up. But that’s as close as they’ve been to real suffering.

Also, I’m a hypocrite, because nothing bad has really happened to me either. Ky’s family has disappeared entirely. Cassia’s family lost her father. But not us, not the Carrows. We’re all fine. Even my brother, who never did join the Rising. I was wrong about him. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.

But the cure we made does work.

When it’s time for my break, I leave the medical center and walk out toward the river that goes through the center of the City of Camas. Now that the barricade’s down and the mutation is under control, people have taken again to walking along the river. There’s a set of cement steps cut into the embankment not far from the medical center.

Ky and Cassia go there sometimes, when he’s back from an errand, and once I found him there alone watching the water.

I sat down beside him. “Thank you,” I said. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d brought my family in for the cure.

Ky nodded. “I couldn’t bring my own family back,” he said. “I hoped I’d find yours.”

“And you did,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Exactly where the Society left them.”

Ky raised his eyebrows.

“I’m glad they’re back,” I told him. “I’ll owe you for the rest of my life for bringing them in. Who knows how long it would have taken for them to get the cure otherwise.”

“It was the least I could do,” Ky said. “You and Cassia are the ones who cured me.”

“How did you know you loved her?” I asked Ky. “When you first fell for her, she didn’t really know you. She didn’t know anything about where you’d been.”

Ky didn’t answer right away. He looked out at the water. “I had to put a body in a river once,” he said finally, “before all of this. An Aberration died in camp, earlier than the Society planned, and the Officers made us get rid of the evidence. That’s when I met my friend Vick.”

I nodded. I’d heard them talk about Vick.

“Vick had fallen in love with someone he wasn’t supposed to have,” Ky said. “He ended up dying for it.” Then Ky looked at me. “I wanted to stay alive after my family died,” he said. “But I didn’t feel like I was living again until I met Cassia.”

“But you didn’t feel like she really knew you, did you?” I asked again.

“No,” Ky said, “but I felt like she could.”

I start down the wide steps to the water. Ky’s not there this time but I see someone else I know. It’s Lei, with her long black hair.

It’s been days since I’ve seen her, even in passing. After she recovered, she went back to work, and our paths have rarely crossed since. When they have, we’ve both nodded and smiled and said hello. She likely knows that I’m working on the cure but I haven’t had a chance to talk with her.

I hesitate, but she looks up at me and smiles, gesturing for me to come closer. I sit down next to her and I feel like a fool. I don’t know where to begin.

But she does. “Where did you go?” she asks me.

“To the mountains,” I say. “The Pilot took some of us there. That’s where we found the cure.”

“And you were the one to do it,” she says.

“No,” I say. “Cassia figured it out.”

“Your Match,” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “She’s alive, and she’s fine. She’s here.”

“I think I’ve seen her,” Lei says, “talking with you.” Her eyes search mine, trying to learn what I haven’t said.

“She’s in love with someone else,” I say.

Lei puts her hand on mine very gently for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“What about your Match?” I ask. “Have you been able to find him?”

She turns her face away then, and as her hair swishes across her back and neck, I remember when we checked each other for the mark during those days in the medical center. “He died,” she says. “Before the Plague came.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“I think I knew before they told me,” Lei says. “I think I could feel him, gone.” I am struck again by the sound of her voice. It’s very beautiful. I would like to hear her sing. “That must sound ridiculous to you,” she says.

“No,” I say, “it doesn’t.”

Something jumps in the river and I start a little.

“A fish,” Lei says, looking back at me.

“One of the ones you told me about?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “That one was silver, not red.”

“Where did you go?” I ask Lei.

She knows what I mean: Where did you go when you were still?

“I was swimming most of the time,” she says. “Like those fish, one of the ones I told you about, and I had a different body. I knew I wasn’t really a fish, but it was easier than thinking about what was happening.”

“I wonder why everyone thinks about the water,” I say. Ky did the same. He told us he was on an ocean with that girl who died. Indie.

“I think,” Lei says, “because the sky seems too far. It doesn’t feel like it will hold you the way the water can.”

Or because your lungs are filling with fluid that you can’t always clear. But neither of us gives the medical explanation, though we both know it.

I don’t know what to say. When I look at Lei I think she might be the kind of person who could do what she said the water could: hold someone up. I imagine pulling her close and kissing her and I can picture letting go, going under, with her.

Her face changes. She must be able to see what I’m thinking.

I stand up, disgusted with myself. I’m not in any condition to love someone, and she’s just lost her Match and come back from the mutation. We’re both alone.

“I have to go,” I say.

CHAPTER 59

CASSIA

I hesitate for a moment at the top of the steps, hidden behind one of the trees along the embankment, waiting for Xander to pass by. He doesn’t notice me.

Before I can lose my courage, I go down, toward the water and the girl. I sit down next to her and she turns to look at me. “I’m Cassia,” I say. “I think we both know Xander.”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m Lei. Nea Lei.”

I study her face while trying not to seem like I’m doing it. She’s not much older than us, but something about her seems wise. She speaks very clearly; but her words are clean, not clipped. She is lovely, in a way that is all her own; very dark hair, very deep eyes.

“We both know Xander,” she says, “but you’re in love with someone else.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Xander told me a little about you,” she says. “When we worked together. He always talked about his Match, and I talked about mine.”

“Is your Match—” I don’t dare finish.

“My Match is gone,” she says. Tears slip down her cheeks and she brushes them away with the heels of her hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve suspected it for months. But now that I know, I can’t seem to stop crying whenever I talk about him. Especially here. He loved the water.”

“Is there someone I can help you find?” I ask. “Any family—”

“No,” she says. “I don’t have any family. They’re gone. I’m an Anomaly.”

“You are?” I ask, stunned. “How did you hide from the Society?”

“Right in front of their eyes,” she says. “Data can be forged, if you know the right person, and my parents did. My family used to believe in the Pilot, but after they saw how many Anomalies he let die, they decided I would be safest in the Society after all. They gave everything they had to buy me a perfect set of falsified data. I came into the Society and became an Official shortly after.” She smiles a little. “The Society might be surprised to know that they made an Anomaly an Official so quickly.” She stands up. “If you see Xander, will you tell him good-bye for me?”

“You should tell him in person,” I say, but she keeps going.

“Wait,” I say. She stops. There’s something I don’t understand. “If you weren’t a citizen until recently, you wouldn’t have had a Match Banquet. So how did you—”

“I never needed the Society,” she says, “to Match me.”

She looks down at the water. And in that moment, I think I know exactly who she is.

“Your name,” I say. “Was it the same, or did you change it when you came into the Society?”

“I didn’t change it entirely,” she says. “I only reversed it.”

I run back to the medical center to find Xander. He’s working in the lab, and I pound on the window to get his attention.

Xander’s father, who also works in the lab, sees me first. He smiles at me but on his face I also see wariness. He doesn’t want me to hurt his son.

And he knows that Xander is hurt.

I didn’t do it all, I want to tell Mr. Carrow. But Xander has changed. He’s been through so much—the loss of his faith in the Rising, those dark days working in the medical center, the time out in the mountains.

“Your friend,” I tell Xander as soon as he opens the door. “Lei. She’s going somewhere else. She told me to tell you good-bye.”

And you have to find her. Because she’s already lost too much, and so have you. It all came together when she stood there by the river, when she spoke about not needing the Society to Match her. She told me that she didn’t even need to change her name, just reverse it. Nea Lei. Lei Nea. When you say it out, it sounds like Laney. Ky had never seen it spelled when he carved the name of the girl Vick loved. Neither, perhaps, had Vick.

Xander takes a step forward. “Did she say where she was going?” The expression on his face tells me everything I need to know.

And what I was going to say doesn’t matter the way I thought it would. Because her story, with Vick, is not mine to tell. It’s hers—Lei’s. And it may or may not become part of her story with Xander, but that is not for me to decide.

“No,” I say. “But, Xander, you can catch up with her. You can find out.”

For a second, I think he will. Then he sits down at his workstation. He leans forward, his back perfectly straight, his expression a mask of confidence and determination.

How is it that he’s so good at reading others but he’s not paying attention to himself?

Because he doesn’t want to be hurt again.

“There’s more,” I tell him, leaning closer so that the others won’t hear. “The Pilot has decided that it’s time to take the villagers to the Otherlands.”

“Why now?” he asks.

“It’s coming time for the people to vote,” I say. “He won’t be able to spare the ships then. He’ll need them to keep order. There are rumors that people from the Society are going to try to take control.”

“He can’t spare the ships now,” Xander says. “We need them to transport the cure.”

“He’s not going to send many out,” I say. “A few of the cargo transports, not the fighters. They’re going to Endstone and they’ll take the villagers as far as they can. Ky and I are going to the village, to talk to Anna and bring her back here to Camas with us, if she’ll come. I wanted to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” I say. I didn’t want you to feel like we’d left you behind again.

“Will the Pilot let other people go on to the Otherlands in addition to the villagers?” he asks.

“If there’s room, I think he would,” I say.

“The villagers might let me go with them,” he says, and then he grins and I see a little bit of the old Xander, and I miss him so much. “They might trust me now that they know I was right about the cure.”

“No,” I say, stunned. “Xander, you can’t go to the Otherlands. We need you.”

“I’m sorry,” Xander says, “but I can’t let that keep me here anymore.”

CHAPTER 60

KY

Cassia and I wait for the Pilot’s command.

It is just the two of us on the ship. We’re flying alone this time, carrying supplies in and, hopefully, some of the villagers out. Cassia’s decided that we need Anna to stand up for the vote. “She can lead people,” Cassia told me. “She’s proved it for years.”

“How many ships have to take off before we go?” Cassia asks now.

“Ten,” I say. “We’re one of the last.”

“So we have a little time,” she says.

Time. It’s what we’ve always wanted, what we rarely have.

She’s sitting in the copilot’s chair and she turns it so that she faces me. There’s mischief in her bright green eyes and I catch my breath.

Cassia slides her hands behind my neck and I lean forward.

I close my eyes and remember her standing as beautiful as snow when she came out of the canyons. I remember holding the green silk against her cheek on the Hill. I remember her skin and sand in the canyons, and her face looking down on me in the mountains, bringing me back.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you,” I say back.

I choose her again, and again, and again. Until the Pilot interrupts us and it’s time to fly.

Into the sky we go. The two of us together. As the wisps of clouds go by, I pretend that they’re my mother’s paintings, evaporated up from the stone. Drifting even higher on their way to something new.

CHAPTER 61

CASSIA

He takes us up higher and the air ship shudders and groans, and my heart beats fast, and I am not afraid.

There are the mountains, enormous blue and green against the sky, and then less, and less, below us, and it is blue all around.

In the blue, there is white and gold, white wisps of cloud trailing across the sky like the cottonwood seed I once gave Grandfather. “Clouds of glory,” I whisper, remembering, and I wonder where he found those words and if this is a journey he made after he died, coming up to be warmed by the sun, his fingers catching hold of these bits of sky, letting go.

And then where? I wonder. Could there be anywhere else as glorious as this?

Maybe this is where the angels went when they flew up. Perhaps it is where my father is now, drifting in the sun. Maybe it would be a cruel thing to bring him back and weigh him down. Or maybe when they are light, they are lonely.

I look over at Ky. His face is as I have rarely seen it before, perfectly serene.