Читать книгу The Fall - Laura Nolen Liddell - Страница 10

My first order of business was to get good and hidden. I jogged about halfway down the hall before the sound of footsteps jarred me back to reality, and I forced my pace to slow. If I were going to make it through this, I needed to look like a puppet.

A pair of officers walked past, giving me ample space on the carpet lining the center of the floor. I let my gaze drift idly to the chandeliers overhead. They’d sustained a fair amount of damage during the loss of gravity following An’s torpedo, but someone had taken the time to rehang them, untangling their delicate strings of crystals. They were repaired as well as could be expected. I shifted my focus away. It wasn’t like you could replace something like that up here. There were no craftworkers in Central Command, anyway. The officers passed, and I paused, listening for more footsteps, then took off running again.

It wasn’t until I got all the way to the door that I realized that I had nowhere to go. Subconsciously, I’d been heading for the stairwell and the cargo space beneath the main part of the ship. But it no longer existed, and whatever was left of it wasn’t pressurized. The next thought that hit me was worse: the Remnant was gone, too.

I owe you for that one, An. I haven’t forgotten.

I endured a crippling moment of panic before I finally understood that I had no real options. My only hope was to delay my return to Adam as long as could be believable, and hope I came up with some kind of a plan before he caught on. Which wouldn’t be long.

A weapon would be a good start. Something I could hide in my sleeve.

Eren seemed pretty tight with Adam. Did Adam trust him enough to let him carry a gun? I hadn’t seen one on him, so I decided to search his room. If I got caught, I could always act like I’d wandered in out of habit. After all, it was my room, too, apparently.

The room smelled good in spite of the sterility of space and the crumpled pile of clothes near the door. Peppermint and toasted bread. I shrugged it off and got to work.

A cursory search revealed no gun in his desk, or under the bed, or anywhere in the wardrobe. I grunted and sat back on my heels to think. I was a thief, after all. This shouldn’t be too difficult. I turned up a standard-issue sewing kit, which yielded four needles and a tiny, blunt pair of scissors, and a toolbox, which was functionally worthless. Screwdrivers were nice and all, but Eren’s was long and weighted. Too hard to hide. I rolled the scissors up in my sleeve, securing it with two of the needles.

When the couch turned up fistfuls of crumbs and fuzz, I had to revise my image of Eren yet again. Maybe he wasn’t the soldier I’d thought he was. Maybe time and despair had changed him into someone else. As hard as it sounded, maybe he really was a stranger.

I glanced around the room. There wouldn’t be anything on the screen facing the couch. Too conspicuous, especially if it were repaired. Or monitored. I searched the kitchen, shoving a loaf of bread aside in the process, and found nothing.

I was face-first in the freezer and wrist-deep in the icemaker when the door sucked open, causing me to jump squarely out of my skin.

“Eren.”

“This isn’t much of a hiding place,” he said, his voice gruff. Something in his face made me set my jaw a little tighter. Not regret, exactly. Disappointment, more like. “I don’t know what I expected.”

No way he didn’t have a gun in here somewhere. No way. “Yeah? Give me a minute. I might surprise you.”

I slid the door of the icer open and stuck my hand in, never letting my gaze shift from his face. There was something cagey in the way he moved toward me, as though he were anticipating my next move, and I frowned, confused. It was like he was planning something. Preparing for something.

A fight, maybe.

But his face was tired, so tired. His blue eyes met mine at last, and I saw only resignation. I must have imagined his disappointment.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich. Grilled cheese.” His voice was weary, too.

I backed up. “You stay away from me.”

“S’just food, Char.”

He came close, and I stepped aside. His face swung near as he reached past my shoulder and lifted a hunk of cheese, then the butter, in the same hand.

The icer door popped shut, and Eren deliberately turned his back to me, setting me off-guard. He wouldn’t show me his back if we weren’t on the same side. Obviously we weren’t going to fight. This was Eren, after all. My Eren. I was being ridiculous. Paranoid. Occupational hazard, I supposed.

The nape of his neck had grown pale in the years since we’d left Earth and sunlight, but his haircut hadn’t changed—short and blond, no nonsense—and I caught myself staring. Maybe there was a part of me that had missed him for the last five years, even though my mind hadn’t.

He whistled tunelessly, setting up a pan and flipping on the burner, but the notes sharpened when he reached for the loaf of bread, causing the hair on my arms to lift up.

The bread.

The bread, the bread.

It was wrapped in a chunky, reusable foil case far too big for a single loaf that crinkled beneath his grip as he pulled it from the shelf.

And it made a dense, muted thunk when he laid it on the counter.

When his hand dipped into the package, I swallowed. “Why don’t you let me do th—”

Too late. Too late for anything. The gun was suddenly between us, heavy and cold, and my breath froze in my chest.

“Eren.”

“You’re wanted at headquarters,” he said, flicking the stove off.

I’m not sure I understood until that moment what Eren had been to me. How I’d come to think of him, how my mind had relaxed instinctively in his presence. How I’d trusted him. No one had ever made me feel truly secure, like I could believe, cynical as I was, that I would one day be safe for good. Except Eren.

I really was a terrible judge of character.

I wanted to lift my hands in surrender out of habit, but I couldn’t make myself do it. It was like admitting that everything was broken, that nothing good would ever last. Which should have been obvious, especially to me, who’d lived through the death of Earth. And my mother.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I said quietly. “In a hundred years, I will not forgive you.” I stared at his face, looking for some sign of regret, some indication that my only possible blow had landed true, but the only thing I found was exhaustion. His brow creased for an instant, then everything was smooth. Easy. Done.

“There’s nothing for it, Char,” he said, almost gently, and any remaining protest died on my lips. “Let’s go.”

I went. What else could I do?

The hallway stretched before me, gaudy and bright. Maybe Adam would let me wake up in Eirenea, but I doubted it. Maybe, years from now, his horrible drug would become illegal, or he’d die, and I’d be rescued. I’d wake up old, in an old woman’s body, with all the experience of a seventeen-year-old failure.

Maybe my family would come for me.

Maybe the years would pass, and my captor would grow lonely, and I’d wake up with children. For ten minutes a year, I’d drink in their faces and worry over the lives they led.

Or maybe he would let me die.

I found my voice halfway to headquarters. “How could you.”

“It’s for the best,” he said evenly. “You don’t understand. He’s too strong.”

“He must be, Eren. With you on his side.”

“It’s not just me. There isn’t anyone, on any ship, that wants us all to go to war. That’s what he’s saving us from.”

We were a fragile race. We must have always been. Only now, we knew it.

Adam was smug. He had every right to be. I stood before him in the cold room, and he gestured for me to sit. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. I wasn’t about to spend my last seconds of freedom doing as I was told.

Eventually, his smile grew serious, and my darling husband pressed down on my shoulders until my back hit the chair. The Lieutenant was slouched in a black leather chair nearby. She made no move to assist. Maybe she was drugged, too.

“Welcome back,” Adam said brightly. “I know I already said it, but man. It’s just so good to see the real you, Char.”

“We should do this more often,” I said.

“Eh, don’t hold your breath.” His lip twisted around again, and his hand went to his jacket. When I saw the needle, my tongue couldn’t swallow, and my throat went numb. “Now, Ambassador,” he said. “If you could restrain your wife for a moment.”

Eren’s hand was warm and heavy on my shoulder, and I chewed the inside of my cheek as hard as I could. The pain was the only good feeling I had left.

Adam rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that. She’s awake. That’s really her. Take it from me. We can’t afford to get complacent.”

The Lieutenant stirred, and Eren glanced at her for a moment before crouching down and pulling my arms together behind the chair.

“Now hold still,” said Adam. “This’ll only sting a bit.”

He looked at Eren, who nodded that he was ready, and came close. My arms jerked against Eren’s grip involuntarily, and he squeezed them tighter. I went ahead and stopped breathing. I needed to last five more seconds without crying, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it.

The needle flashed through the air, taking longer than necessary so that Adam had plenty of time to watch my reaction. I forced every cell in my brain to remain completely frozen. I would not give him the satisfaction. I couldn’t. But at the last minute, weakness won, and I closed my eyes.

The pressure on my arms vanished. There was a light thud, and my eyes snapped open. The syringe remained secure in Adam’s grip, and a wave of mild surprise played over his face. The needle swung in a glinting, silver arc toward me a second time, and as I watched, Eren delivered a second blow, knocking it away.

“Oh,” Adam said. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it,” said Eren, his jaw clenched.

“Lieutenant,” Adam shouted, “stop him!”

The Lieutenant stood, lumbering, from her chair, but she wasn’t much of a soldier. Not anymore. She stumbled toward us, glassy-eyed, and laid into the fight.

So I kicked her.

The top of my foot hit her squarely in the stomach, and she fell backwards, barely affected save for her lack of balance. Adam and the needle were inches away once again. I gripped the seat of my chair with my hand and caught him fully in the chest with my feet, shoving him for all I was worth. But the angle was too high, and my chair skidded back, teetering. Adam kept coming. Eren launched forward at the same time, dangerously close to the needle, and torpedoed into Adam just as my chair lurched back and hit the ground.

I curled up, trying to keep my head from bearing the brunt of the impact, then flipped around as fast as a cat. Syringes are motivating like that.

But the fight was over. Eren was faster, stronger, and better trained. Adam made a move to stab him with the needle, but Eren used the movement to secure a grip on Adam’s exposed wrist. I lost sight of the needle for a moment, but Eren pulled himself up and landed a knee on Adam’s throat, pinning him. Without releasing his grip, he calmly removed the syringe from Adam’s clenched fist and slid it into his upper arm.

Eren tossed the syringe away and maintained his position while waiting for the drug to take effect. They locked eyes until Adam’s angry, grunting pant dissolved into a helpless growl. Finally, his eyes glassed over, and his struggle ended.

The Lieutenant was sitting, half-reclined, on the ground near a chair. She didn’t look to be much of a threat anymore, either.

Eren stood, straightened his uniform, and looked at me. “You okay?”

I gaped at him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” he said gently, taking a step toward me. “He watches—”

“Back up,” I said. “You stay away from me.”

He stopped in an instant, like someone had slammed a door an inch from his nose. “Charlotte. You have to understand—”

“What? That Adam was watching you? And that’s why you just had to let him keep me in stasis for five years? That’s why you had to bring me back here to him?”

He swallowed, sorting his words before he spoke them out in a slow, careful string. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice breaking. He stepped toward me, and I backed away. I lifted my hand, and again, he stopped.

A moment passed, and he took a seat in the chair, defeated. “Charlotte, please. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Right.”

“He was following us the whole time. Every single word. I’m wearing a k-band, for goodness’— He can literally hear everything I do, and he knows when I’m lying. Look. I was so afraid he’d hurt you if he ever suspected me. I had to be completely sure you’d broken out before I could even think about…” Eren trailed off. “I had to fool you both. I practically had to fool myself. It was the only way to keep you safe. If I’d been wrong about you, or if he’d figured it out—”

“I just spent five years trapped in my own head,” I said, my voice hard. “With no control over what he did to me, or what he made me do. But it’s good to hear how safe I was that whole time.”

Some tiny, near-dead part of my mind knew that my anger was misplaced, at least in part, but the gray madness of Adam’s prison had pushed it so far down I couldn’t reach it. I was finally coherent, and my rage built to an apex.

I wanted Adam dead.

I wanted Eren gone.

I wanted to fly so far away that I never saw any of them, including this cursed ship, ever again.

I wanted my mom.

I was so caught up in the injustice of everything, in the newness of my mind’s freedom, that I didn’t see the shadow moving just outside my vision until it had grown too large to stop. “Er—” I began, but my word was cut short by a strangling pressure around my throat. Adam’s fingers were cold, but he was very much awake. His nails were barely longer than what could pass as normal, and they bit into the skin, like he was making a fist instead of just squeezing. He did not look me in the eye.

“Char!” Eren shouted, too late. He sprang from the chair, but the Lieutenant’s lumbering form was faster. I braced myself, preparing to fight her, too, but the world was already going dark. At the last moment, just as she was about to hit me, her body juddered and swung to one side.

I had the strange sensation that time had slowed, and I struggled to watch as she slammed instead into Adam. A strong jerk shook my vision as she delivered him another blow, and his grip on my neck finally loosened.

And then Eren was there, shoving her aside and hitting Adam so hard that he sprawled onto the ground next to me. I choked in some air and tried to stand. I couldn’t.

A few feet away, the Lieutenant’s slow gaze turned from me to Adam, and together, we watched him fade. Eren stood over his body, fists tight, and turned to look down at me.

“She—” I tried to speak, but was wracked by a cough.

“Lieutenant?” Eren said.

She looked at him mildly, like a puppy preparing for a nap. “Where am I?” she said.

“In headquarters,” said Eren. “You’re in stasis, mostly. I think.”

“Unlike Adam,” I said. “He has some kind of immunity?”

But instead of answering, the Lieutenant slumped to the floor. “I wasn’t always…” she said, and closed her eyes.

As I watched her, the knot in my chest doubled down, pulling tighter. Maybe Eren was right, and we were all just Adam’s prisoners.

But I was still out of breath and exceedingly unwilling to think about Eren right then. I knew the feeling that crept through me, and I hated it. It had only ever made me weak.

Eren, meanwhile, wasted no time in shoving a chair into the doorframe. Grunting, he slung Adam into another chair and cuffed his hands through the armrest. By the time he finished that, I moved to search Adam’s jacket. When I came near, Eren stepped away.

“No antidote,” he said. “He doesn’t keep it on him.” I didn’t answer, and he shifted awkwardly back to help the Lieutenant, his mouth tight. About the ti–me he got her into a comfortable-looking position, I found Adam’s holster.

He was armed, of course, but I didn’t recognize the weapon. It was some kind of oblong metal box that came to a point at one end. One side had a flip-button labeled with letters etched into the metal by hand. “D F¯ DEW…” I looked up. “What the heck does that mean?”

Eren looked at the weapon, avoiding my eyes. “Deuterium Fluoride Directed Energy Weapon. I’ve actually seen that one in action. It concentrates a stream of infrared chemicals—heavy hydrogen, for example—and neutralizes the target via plasma breakdown.”

“Plasma…” I muttered. “Hang on. Are you telling me he made a real-life laser gun?”

“Yeah,” said Eren. “Pet project of his.”

“Aren’t they all.” I turned it in my hand, thinking, and aimed it at Adam’s head. “So let’s see how he did.” My thumb hadn’t quite caught the flip when Eren knocked into me, throwing the blaster into a wall.

Speechless, I watched it fall before turning back to Eren to stare a death-ray of my own straight into his face, which was inches from mine. “You have got to be kidding me right now.”

“Charlotte. You can’t kill him.” He had the tone of a man trying to talk a cat down from a tree, but there was a sense of urgency he was trying to subdue. So maybe the cat was dangerous, like a lion. Or maybe the tree was on fire.

Either way, I found it annoying.

“Eren, get off me. And let’s test that theory, shall we? Move.” I shoved him as hard as I could manage, and he moved back a fraction of an inch, mostly out of courtesy.

I leaned over, reaching for the blaster, and he caught me by the wrist again. His voice remained soft, in sharp contrast to mine. “Listen, you can’t. Life support is wired to his vitals. If he dies, we all do.”

He paused, watching me. When he was sure his words had sunk in, his grip relaxed.

A moment later, I let some of the tension fall from my own stance. “Okay. Let me go,” I said, more calmly. “All the way.”

He backed up, looking pained, and took a seat in the chair again. His shoulders slumped a little, and he leaned forward, looking up at me from a much lower vantage point. It was about as non-threatening a stance as any I’d seen. He still made me nervous.

“Sorry,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “Me too.”

“Can we switch it to someone else’s vitals? Maybe someone can hack in.”

He shook his head. “The system is keyed to his heartbeat. No one can replicate that.”

Adam was always a step ahead. “We’ll never be safe while he’s alive, Eren,” I said.

Eren didn’t hear me. “So how did he attack you? Not that it matters, but shouldn’t he have been more like a puppet?”

I shook my head. “He wasn’t in stasis. That’s for sure. You can’t make decisions in stasis. You can remember feelings, like fear or sorrow, but nothing concrete, like needing to attack someone.”

“The Lieutenant would beg to differ,” Eren said dryly.

“I don’t know how she did that, either. Adam must have some kind of automatic antidote. Or he saved the heavy doses just for me. Or he’s engineered a formula that only he’s immune to,” I mused. “There’s no telling. Anyway, he’s definitely out now.”

Eren nodded, staring at the floor, the wall, Adam’s sleeping form, and finally, me. “Good. Because there’s something I need to tell you.”