But what sort of life is that? I don’t want to concede pieces of my humanity just to preserve it. And I don’t want to live forever in Kay’s shadow, either. This island is the problem: I’m only a two-day swim from Kay, plus a billion bodies in the sea. That image kills the rest of my appetite.
“I was thinking…” I clear the mucus from my throat. “I was thinking we could leave the island.”
Silence.
“You said there was nothing out there,” Hero says slowly. Gently.
Still.
Shit.
“If we sail long enough, we might be able to find something,” I say, trying to cover my slip. If the bulk of Celia’s memories can be trusted, then there should be other lands out there with shelters ready for the humans when they reemerge. “And I thought…” I moisten my lips. “Well, I thought we could try finding my sister together.”
I hate this. Hate this hate this hate this.
I have to do this. Saying I don’t care anymore is too suspicious.
Hero frowns. “But what about food?”
And back we circle, to the original reason why I couldn’t take him with me. “We can stockpile.”
Hero glances to the spread on the table. It’s practically all the possible taro recipes under the sky and, more importantly, all the taro. “Sorry. I wouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine. It’s no rush.”
No rush.
My guilt congeals, clotting my heart. Four more days. I can do it. Four. Short. Days. I’ll lock the door every night and make U-me stand guard if I have to. In four days, this indecision will pass, because there will be nothing to decide. I just have to hold out until then … after the pod fails … after she, Kay—no, not-Kay— “Cee?”
My name draws me out of my thoughts, into the present moment, where my fingers are bleached white around the fork handle and Hero’s half risen out of his seat.
I shovel a forkful of taro into my mouth before he can come over. “Mmm. Delicious.”
Slowly, Hero sits back down. I scrunch my face dramatically. “But it’s missing something…”
“What?” he asks, warily, not 100% buying my act.
I’m committed to it. “Butter, I think.”
Hero takes a careful mouthful. Chews, and decides to humor me. “I think garlic.”
“Yuck.”
“Yuck?” He sounds as offended as I was, when he rejected my names. “What’s wrong with garlic?”
“Garlic breath, that’s what.”
“Who cares about that?”
“I would, if you had it,” I say, raising my brows meaningfully.
It’s endearing, how he can still flush. “That’s why you’d have to eat it too.”
“Nope.”
“You wouldn’t even know, if I snuck it in.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I claim. The look on Hero’s face says otherwise. “That’s it. You’re banned from the kitchen. I’m taking over as chef.”
“No, please. Garlic-free it is,” says Hero, much too quickly, to my genuine offense. I rise from my seat and he holds up his fork as if to defend himself, his eyes alight with laughter. Then his face stiffens. His body spasms.
The fork falls out of his hand.
40
DING. A MESSAGE FROM EKATERINA.
Ding. The clip of Actinium fighting the Territory 4 man had leaked and was trending.
Ding. Delegates were rescinding their support from Operation Reset.
Ding. The plane was about to leave.
Ding. Where was Kasey?
Currently? Sitting on the ground outside the hospel, her back to the PVC wall. Didn’t particularly want to be here, didn’t belong elsewhere, so she stayed, watching from the sidelines as shouted orders went unheeded, victims arrived on gurneys and departed in body bags. Supplies rolled into the makeshift wards and came out in metal drums of biohazardous waste. Medics ran back and forth, carrying things, dropping things.
Thunk. Kasey flinched as a container landed and tipped over, centimeters from her toes.
“Argh!” The medic crouched down, gathering the spilled toximeters. Kasey crawled over to help. As they refilled the container, the numbers on the toximeters caught Kasey’s eye. The levels for both radioaxons and microcinogens did not match the readings in her biomonitor.
She turned to the medic. “They’re broken.”
“I know,” said the medic. She shoveled the last of the toximeters into the container, hoisted it into her arms, and stood.
Kasey stood too, concern growing at the medic’s lack thereof. “They’re not safe to use.”