Читать книгу The Rift Uprising - Amy Foster S. - Страница 11

I awake to the steady electronic beeping of my heart. I am back at the base in the medical facility. I am hooked up to an IV. As my eyes flutter open, I see the plastic tube first, running from the back of my hand to a bag beside me. I try to blink away the fuzzy outline of everything in the room. In short order, the room snaps into focus. I am not lying down but reclined on the gurney. I try to sit completely up, but I feel a small hand gently push me back to the bed.

“Easy, Citadel Ryn. You are safe,” the voice purrs. I know immediately that it is a Roone. Their voices are distinctly nonhuman. They rasp and whirr; it’s difficult for the muscles in their throats to push out the words in our language. I recognize the kind blue eyes that are looking back at me with concern. She is smiling, and her skin, like polished onyx, reflects off the fluorescent lights. The Roones are tiny, all of them under five feet. Their bodies are made up of a higher mineral count, so their skin looks like lacquered stone. They vary in color, as rocks and people do. They have no hair and their faces are mostly eyes.

I smile weakly. “Edo, I told you, please just call me Ryn.”

“It is a form of respect, Citadel. Like the great castles and fortresses on your Earth, you do so much to keep us safe. Citadels are our greatest defense and it is my job to make sure that you do not become a ruin.” Edo checks the electronic pad in her hands and looks at my IV bag. “Though I must say, there are times when you make that increasingly difficult.”

I look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost one. I have been out for hours. Not good. “Then why don’t I call you Doctor Edo, or Nurse Edo, or … What are you, again?”

“Because there is no name for what I am in your language,” she answers kindly. “But if it makes you more comfortable I will simply call you Ryn.” Edo squeezes my shoulders lightly. I feel the pressure of her cold, hard hands, but it is not unpleasant.

“You always say that, but then you forget.” She gives me a look that says in a million years she would not forget anything, and I sigh. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad at all. A little concussion. We’ve given you medicine and the swelling is gone. Your brain is back to normal. We put you to sleep so that you could heal.” Edo once again looks at the silver pad in her hands. She could be checking my vitals, but because she is a Roone and the implants were designed by them, I am almost positive she is checking to make sure the chip is functioning at full capacity. I reach back and feel a small metal disk the size of quarter, which is magnetized to attach to my implant. “If I keep getting these little concussions I’m going to turn into one of those football players who goes off the deep end one day.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. But we have repaired all the damage done to the tissue around the concussed area. It’s as if it never happened, and your implant …” Edo smiles, but the smile is weird, off somehow.

“What about my implant?” I ask, immediately sitting up.

“It’s fine. I promise.” Edo’s smile is genuine this time. I can’t say why, but I know she is not being totally honest with me. I am an expert in detecting even the barest hint of a lie, and my experiences at The Rift have meant my expertise is not limited to humans. I would push, but I know that I would never get a straight answer. Most Roones remind me of robots. Since they are responsible for the chip that created the Citadels, I am naturally resentful of them. Edo, though, is unlike others of her kind. She is warm and even funny. Still, she is not different enough to confide in me. Instead, I take that one moment when she let me see something in her face that I shouldn’t have, and file it away for later.

I pull the magnetized disk off my neck and hold it in my hands. It just looks like a shiny, round piece of metal to me. I examine it for a second or two before handing it back to Edo. She takes the disk and attaches it to her pad.

“My team?” I ask, stretching my back.

“Training. But you are not going with them today. I have put you on twelve hours of bed rest. You can do that here or at home. Your choice.”

“Oh my God. Home for sure. No offense.” I grin.

Edo looks at me warmly. “You did well today, Citadel Ryn. You killed at least three Karekins. No one from our side was seriously injured. A victory.” Edo does not sound victorious.

“Today, yes,” I concede. “But what about tomorrow? What about when five hundred come through—or five thousand? What then? And why? Why haven’t we been able to get any intel on their agenda? Why isn’t everyone more freaked out about what’s happening with them?” I try to sound logical—Roones don’t deal well with too much emotion—but I’m sure there’s a ton of frustration in my voice.

“I don’t have an answer to those questions, though they are good ones,” Edo says carefully.

“Come on,” I say, sitting up straighter and giving her a level stare. “The Karekins must have a way of navigating The Rift, of passing information through it. If that’s the case, then why isn’t every single person on this base—and every other base, for that matter—working their asses off to figure that out? If they did, wouldn’t that mean you could go home?”

Edo takes a step away from me and hugs the pad closer to her chest. “I do not think about home anymore. It is pointless and painful. Words, explanations, reasons—none of those things help when tragedy strikes. We just do what we can to continue. To survive.” Edo sighs and it sounds like a rush of wings. She steps closer to me. “I am sorry, Citadel Ryn. For the pain that you feel today and every day. I truly am. Why don’t you get some rest for a little while longer and then you can leave with your team?” Without waiting for me to say anything in return, Edo walks out the door.

AS VI IS DRIVING ME and Abel home in my car, I feel almost 100 percent, apart from a slight headache that could have nothing to do with the fighting. The conversation I had with Edo is still with me. There was something about it that wasn’t right, but since it is only my intuition guiding that feeling, I don’t feel confident in sharing my thoughts with Violet or anyone else on the team. I don’t even know what I would say to them because I’m not sure if Edo was lying or if she was, in fact, trying to hint at something else—though what that could be, I can’t imagine. Something about my implant? We get to our house and Abel gives Violet a funny look. “Aren’t we going to drop you off first?” he asks. Man, he’s observant for a teenage boy.

“Nah. I’m going to walk home. I know Ryn has a bunch of work she needs to do by tomorrow. I think she wants to get a jump on it.” I roll my eyes. Violet is mothering me. She wants me to get to bed after the day I’ve had, but I feel fine. It’s also a terrible lie—I cringe at how lame it sounds. But Abel just shrugs, says good-bye, and runs into the house.

Violet lives less than half a mile away from us. If she runs, she’ll be home in less than two minutes. I feel antsy. I don’t want to go inside just yet. “I’m going to walk with you.”

“Ryn …” she starts.

“I need the air. I know I’m supposed to be resting, but as long as you don’t mind not running, I think it’ll be fine.”

“I think you already know I’m fine with not running,” Violet says, not bothering to hide the exasperation in her voice.

“Good,” I tell her as I head toward the direction of her house. We live in a quiet, leafy part of Battle Ground called Meadow Glade. It’s early in the season, so the leaves have not yet turned. Vi is unusually quiet.

“I’m sorry again, about the crack I made about you and Boone. It was shitty.”

Violet shrugs. “It was. But it was also true. There’s a part of me that’s glad you said it out loud. Somebody had to.” More silence. A couple cars and a kid on a bike pass us. “Do you think you’ll ever get it removed?”

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. I know that I have to say something, just to make my friend feel better, but she wouldn’t want my real answer.

“Well, if I make it to thirty, I might,” I lie to her. We were told that at thirty, we could have our chips removed and go on and live a normal life. Settle down. Get married. Have kids. It’s a wonderful dream to sell us. But I know I will never take it out. First of all, I doubt I am going to make it to thirty. Even if I do, I would be so totally messed up from doing this job that I am positive I would be a crap wife and an even worse mom. I would worry all the time about The Rift, but without my enhanced abilities, I would have no way of defending my white-picket-fence life. I am lonely now, but I am useful. Who’s to say that I wouldn’t be just as lonely without the implant? More than likely I would end up alone anyhow because this life I’m living is taking a toll and I know it. I would be weak and I would never really be normal.

But Vi is not me. We arrive at her house, a quaint and cozy craftsman painted gray with white trim, and I think she might have a chance at this kind of life in the future, even without Boone. Then again, I’m not sure if she wants it. Violet is an only child. Her parents work a lot and she is often alone. This never seems to bother her. She must be lonely, as we all are, but I never see it. She grabs me and pulls me into a long hug.

“I hate it when you get hurt, Ryn. I worry so much about you.” We both know that she is not just talking about my injury today. I am the team leader. I carry an extra burden, one that I am happy to accept. Everyone else seems to have some kind of an outlet for their frustration. Violet dances, Boone jokes, and Henry trains pretty much twenty-four hours a day. I strategize—and by that, I mean I overanalyze, running scenarios in which I am able to make sure everyone is safe. My own safety is rarely a priority.

Another person might say I worry.

“I’ll be fine. We’ve got the day off tomorrow, so I’ll sleep in and chill,” I promise her.

“Yeah, but you are going to Flora’s party tomorrow, right?”

I groan inwardly. I do not feel like going to any party. I want as little social interaction as possible over the next twenty-four hours. Vi looks at me expectantly, though, and I know I have to go. I am the buffer between her and Boone. I make it safe for them to be together.

Being team leader doesn’t end when you step out of uniform. It’s always there. I am never not doing my job. So I finally say, “Of course. She is practically my neighbor. It would be kind of rude if I didn’t go.”

Violet gives me a huffy sort of laugh. “Oh, please, like you give a shit what anyone thinks about you. But thanks. I’ll come over a bit early and get ready with you.” I nod my head and watch Violet walk into the house. I amble slowly back, trying to block out the swirling thoughts that are beating inside my brain. I just want to not think—about anything. I need a break from my own brooding over Ezra and Edo and the implant and the people I killed today.

It’s so hard to fight a war hardly anyone knows about.

When I get home I tell Abel that I don’t feel well and that I am going to bed. He’s playing a video game. Something with shooting and guns. I practically leap up the stairs to get away from the noise. I skip dinner and my dad comes in eventually to check on me.

“Rynnie?” I see his outline under the door, through the purplish twilight of the day’s end.

“Yeah?” I am in bed. My iPad is open beside me. I have been trying to read, but mostly I have been lying here with my eyes closed.

“Can I come in?” I tell him yes, and he walks in and sits gingerly on the edge of my bed. Unlike other teenagers’, my room is spotless. Since becoming a Citadel, I have become an obsessive organizer, taking control of the one thing in my life I feel that I can. “What’s wrong? Are you coming down with something?” He puts the back of his hand over my cheeks and forehead.

“No, I’m just tired.” I don’t turn away from him. I like the way his skin feels on my own. Safe. Comforting. I regress to ten years old, when my dad was everything to me. My biggest hero, my greatest champion. I remember what it was like to be so small he could hold me in his arms. My eyes begin to tear, but in the darkness, he won’t see. He waits a minute, and then runs a hand over my head.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong about college. I know you’ll make the right choice. I’m your dad, and even though you’re such a good kid, I worry about you.” A tear spills down my cheek and I turn my head into the pillow to wipe it off. “You used to talk nonstop. You wanted to know how everything worked. ‘Why is the sky blue?’ ‘Do animals have their own heaven?’ ‘Is gasoline like water for cars?’ You had such an imagination, Ryn.” My dad laughs, remembering. “We would play the quiet game and you would sit on your hands and stomp your feet, dying to speak. Your face would go red! And now …” My dad breaks off. “Well, I suppose it’s a teenage thing, or friggin’ ARC. I never thought I would miss those millions of questions, but I do, Rynnie. I really do.”

“Yeah.” I wish I could say more, but I don’t trust myself to speak. “Sorry.” It’s about all I can manage. My dad stands up.

“Don’t be sorry. Just, I don’t know, reach out once in a while. Let us know what’s going on in that magnificent head of yours. We’re here for you. There’s nothing you could tell us that would make us love you any less.” No, they wouldn’t love me any less if they knew the truth, but they would never get over it. They would be furious, worried, half-crazy if they knew.

I roll over on my side, away from him. “’Kay, ’night.”

“Love you, darling girl,” he says as he walks toward the door.

“I love you, too,” I whisper. My parents are great, truly good people.

I cannot say the same about myself.