Seize Today Page 12
Somehow, I don’t think anyone’s going to take that well, least of all Mikey.
Sighing, I pick up a bar of lye soap and a jug of water, which Angela pointed out to me last night. I’m not sure where everyone is, but I might as well get clean in the meantime. Adding a washcloth to my stash, I retreat behind a clump of trees to freshen up. When I return, Ryder’s standing next to our tent, his head tilted to the sky, mumbling something under his breath.
My steps falter. Okay. I can do this. I mean, I’m the one who set the parameters. I said I was cutting myself off from him, but surely, we can still exchange polite civilities.
I walk up behind him, not trying to be quiet. The leaves rustle, and the twigs crack. But he doesn’t turn around.
I clear my throat. “Listen, Ryder, about last night…”
He doesn’t react. Instead, he just continues mumbling.
Okay, so that’s how he’s going to be. That’s fair. Can’t expect him to greet me with one of his brilliant smiles when I rejected him last night.
“I meant what I said,” I continue. “We can’t keep up a…um, romance. But we still have to be around each other, at least for the time being. I hope we can be…well, not friends, exactly, but acquaintances, maybe? Yes, acquaintances who like and respect each other. Because I do respect you. A lot. And I like you, as well. Too much. That’s part of the problem.”
My face burns. Oh dear Fate. Could I ramble any more? Apparently, Ryder is the only one who can transform me from a girl who doesn’t talk enough to one who talks too much. Still, all I’ve said is the truth, and, after last night, that’s what he deserves.
Not that it matters. I doubt that Ryder is even listening, much less worried about what I think he deserves.
“Come on, Ryder,” I plead to his broad shoulders and nicely muscled back. “Don’t be like this. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”
At long last, he turns. Finally. I tighten my stomach, bracing myself for his glare. But he doesn’t frown. His features aren’t even hard like granite. Instead, he’s laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners, like I’ve just told the best joke in this time.
“Good one, Brayden,” he says approvingly, staring at a spot over my head. “But I’ll see your crab traps and double down on my fishing lures. Bet I get a bigger haul than you in half a day.”
Huh? Is this his version of giving me the silent treatment?
“I’m trying to apologize, if that wasn’t clear,” I venture. “I wish the situation didn’t have to be like this. But it is.”
He snorts. “You scared, man? Wouldn’t blame you. Last week, I caught a dozen fish in a couple hours. Tell you what. I’ll give you a ninety-minute head start. What do you say?”
The prickles start at my scalp, but in a moment, my neck is tingling, my spine is shaking, and my skin seems to be shooting out sparks. I’ve heard this back-and-forth before—or, if not exactly this one, then one very much like it. Three days ago, Jessa crouched in front of Danni Lee, and they held two simultaneous but distinct conversations. Just like Ryder and I are now.
Oh dear Fate. Ryder couldn’t be sick. Could he?
No way. I refuse. He’s probably just mad at me. That has to be it. “Ryder, if you’re mad at me, just say so.” My tone exits pleading and borders on desperate. “Please just tell me you’re mad. Oh, please…”
The words die in my throat as he turns away and plows straight into the tent. He falls, his arms and legs twisting in the nylon.
“Ryder!” I rush over to him. “Are you okay?”
He blinks, gazing at the nylon, the smoldering fire, the rods that are now sticking straight up in the air, as though seeing them for the first time. And maybe he is.
I sit down, too, my bottom thumping onto the hard-packed dirt. “Ryder, are you here? Can you hear my voice? It’s me, Olivia.”
He continues to look around, dazed, for a few moments. And then his eyes focus on my face. My shoulders slump forward. Thank the Fates. He sees me. He’s back.
“Olivia?” he asks, recognition snapping into his voice. “What’s going on? Why am I sitting on the ground?”
23
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold, despite the sun beating down on us. “You couldn’t see me,” I tell Ryder. “You were talking to Brayden about fish traps. You weren’t here.”
He shakes his head, as though expecting to find some loose thoughts rattling around. “I remember that. He was right there, climbing that oak tree, gathering acorns.” He points at the open patch of sky, where there are obviously no trees, and shakes his head again. “Clearly, there’s nothing there. I don’t understand.”
“You have the same sickness as Callie,” I say in a low voice. “The virus that Preston was talking about. Whatever it is, it’s afflicting you, too.”
He gets to his feet and makes his way over the nylon, almost losing his balance as different parts of the tent pop out underneath him. He stumbles next to me—and I shoot out a hand to steady him.
We both freeze. My fingers landed on his very muscular, very sculpted bicep—the bicep I was very happily caressing last night. Something moves across his face, something both regretful and heated.
At that moment, I hear a light humming and the distinct fall of footsteps. I hastily withdraw my fingers just as Callie appears from behind the trees. Baby Remi is strapped to her chest via long strips of fabric.
Her hair appears freshly washed, streaks of gold shining amid the deep brown strands like bits of sunshine got stuck there. A warm yellow-brown glow has returned to her skin, and she looks healthy, vital, alive—so unlike the wan figure who insisted her hand was disappearing last night.
“You’re so beautiful,” I blurt out. Limbo. Could I sound any more like a groupie?
But I can’t help it. This is the Callie Stone, the girl I’ve looked up to most of my life. Sure, I spoke to her last night, but that was different. She was caught in the throes of her illness, hardly lucid. Now, here she is in front of me, completely and unequivocally herself.
“Don’t mind her,” Ryder says to Callie. “She’s been in isolation for the last ten years. She would think a tree stump is attractive.”
“Which might explain why I kissed you,” I mutter, loud enough for only him to hear.
Callie laughs, bright and sparkly, not at all offended. And why should she be? Ryder’s teasing tone is threaded with relief, and all you have to do is look at his face to know he thinks she’s a goddess.
She unwraps the sling and sits on the ground, plunking Remi between her legs and offering the toddler a handful of nuts. As soon as Remi spies Ryder, she holds her arms out to him.
“Ry Ry!” she cries.
He crosses to her in a few long strides and scoops her up. “I missed you, too, puffin.”
He tosses her into the air, and she shrieks with delight.
“Angela’s heart would stop if she saw this,” Callie says, grinning. “But there’s no thwarting these two. And thanks for the compliment. I feel great. Better than I have for weeks. Whatever was in that formula, it certainly did the trick.”
We both watch as Ryder gently settles Remi on the ground and rolls a couple of nuts toward her. As soon as she picks one up, it turns into a brightly colored rattle.
My mouth drops open, and Callie laughs. “It’s my psychic ability. I didn’t come into it until I woke from my coma, but I have the power to manipulate perception, so that people see what I want them to see.”
“That’s amazing.” Now that she says it, I all of a sudden remember. This ability is precisely why my mother was so obsessed with Callie for ten years. Since Callie has the ability to manipulate images in her visions, the chairwoman hoped that studying her brain would lead to a way to manufacture future memories. The scientists’ research, however, was interrupted when Callie escaped into the wilderness with the rest of her family.
Callie turns to Ryder. “My mom and dad went ahead to the rendezvous spot, so that they c
ould leave a message for Zed, Brayden, and Laurel. The others are at the lake, trying to catch enough food for the trip. Which leaves me with child-minding. They’re afraid I’ll accidentally fall in the water or get bitten by a creature.” She sighs and ruffles Remi’s curls. “Don’t get me wrong. I love watching Remi. She’s a dear heart, but I could do without all of this overprotection.”
“Logan’s not hovering.” Ryder glances up from his game with Remi. “At least, he’s trying not to be suffocating. He’s just worried about you. Especially with your condition.”
“What condition?” I ask.
“Oh.” If possible, Callie’s glow brightens a notch. “I guess you wouldn’t know. I’m pregnant.”
I suck in a breath. That’s right. Ryder had mentioned it when he was talking to Jessa. I completely forgot. I stare at Callie’s belly. It’s nicely rounded, but I never would’ve guessed.
“Congratulations,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Logan and I got married shortly after we left civilization. My parents are both thrilled. And Logan, well…” She blushes. “I never thought I could be more in love. But when he places his hand on my belly and whispers to our child, I know it was worth battling time and Fate for him. The only person missing is Jessa. She should be here, too.”
Remi turns and pats Callie’s belly with her small hand.
“That’s right, my love.” Callie plants a kiss on her head. “Your little cousin will be born in six months. And then you’ll have a playmate! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I swallow. There’s a lump in my throat, formed from someone else’s emotion, through someone else’s tears. But I feel it, anyway. “You’re right. Jessa would want to be here.”
Ryder picks up a leaf, spinning the stem with his fingers. “Olivia told me Jessa didn’t want to betray us. It was the only way she could gain the chairwoman’s trust, so that she could try to stop our future of genocide.”
Callie smiles indulgently. “That’s what I’ve been telling you all along.” She turns to me. “I’ve managed to convince my parents and the others. They’ve forgiven her, but Mikey and Ryder didn’t want to listen.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter.
Ryder doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I can read his response in the firm planes of his face: I don’t give second chances. Once you break my trust, it’s broken forever.
In the silence, Callie takes his arm and turns it over, displaying the purplish bruise forming over his elbow. “How did you get this?”
I glance at Ryder, and he nods, as if giving me permission to continue. “He walked into a tent,” I say. Briefly, I explain what I suspect about his affliction. It’s only when I finish that I realize I didn’t drop a single word.
Callie sighs. “It was only a matter of time. All the others have had episodes, as well.” She taps Ryder on the shoulder. “You doing okay, squirt?”
I struggle to keep a straight face. Squirt? When he towers her by nearly a foot?
“I’m fine. It was the weirdest thing. I just got really disoriented for a moment.”
“You take care of yourself,” she says in a low voice. “I worry about you, you know?”
“I know.” He squeezes her hand briefly, and genuine feeling flows between them.
Ping. There goes my heart. It’s funny. I never feel this way around my mom or the other FuMA employees. Not much love flowing in that building. But with Jessa or the rest of her family, my heart’s constantly pinging and panging all over the place.
Not that it does me any good.
Sighing, I hone in on something Callie said. “Everyone here has had an episode?”
“Everyone who’s received a future memory or traveled through time,” Callie says. “Which means…not Mikey. And not Ryder, until you just told me otherwise.”
“I received my future memory a few days ago,” he says. “When I was under FuMA’s custody.”
She pauses. “Should I ask about your vision?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe later.”
She nods, not pushing him further. Of all people, Callie knows what it’s like to receive a bad memory, one you can’t imagine, much less talk about. “The episodes have been coming more frequently, especially in the last few days since Ryder’s been gone.”
Alarm bells ring in my head. “But this is awful. Don’t you see? The episodes aren’t going to go away, and they’re not going to get any better. If all of you are sick, then you all need the formula. What’s more, one dose won’t be enough. My mom injects herself daily, so the effects must wear off.” I take a deep breath. “You all have to go back to civilization. Or, at least, get close enough so that I can provide you with a steady supply of syringes.”
“I know,” Callie says softly.
Remi rolls her rattle away, and her little face scrunches up. Before she can wail, Callie gives her another handful of nuts. They transform into a set of animal finger puppets.
“We discussed it this morning by the lake,” she continues. “I wasn’t being entirely truthful, before. The others didn’t send me back to camp just to watch Remi. They also wanted me to give you a message.”
She puts her hand on my arm, her eyes kind, even as her smile is sorrowful. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I can’t even begin to tell you how much better I feel. But…Mikey’s decided. From this point forward, we’ll proceed on our own.”
I stare. “But how will you access the formula? You can’t just pick it up from a pharm bot, you know. The formula’s available only at FuMA.”
“We’ll figure something out.” She presses her lips together. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but Mikey’s made up his mind. He says he doesn’t trust you.” She glances at the boy behind me. “Ryder standing in for you only goes so far.”
Her hand falls away. “This will sound harsh. But you need to leave before the others get back. I’m sorry to say this is good-bye.”
24
Ryder leads me away from the campsite. The hoverboards trail behind us like loyal pets, one of them loaded with my rations for my day-long trip home, the other ready for me to hop on and zoom away. We don’t say much—either because there’s nothing to say or because everything’s already been said. The only sound, as we hop over tree roots and squeeze between branches, is the low hum of the boards.
“You need to make the most of your trip while the sun is out,” Ryder finally says. “It’s not as direct, but if you head north, eventually you’ll hit the river, which you can follow all the way back to the FuMA building.”
He doesn’t say “home,” even though I’ve lived there all my life. I’m not surprised. “Home” is where your family is; it’s the place you feel safe and secure. I don’t have that. I’m not sure I ever have.
Anger surges inside me. For the first time in my life, I was doing something. I was working toward a cause instead of sitting on the sidelines, observing. And now, my mission has been summarily dismissed. Just like that. Because Mikey said so. And I couldn’t even argue or plead my case because the message was relayed through Callie.
“Do you always do what Mikey tells you to do?” I blurt out.
Ryder holds a branch back, so that I can pass through without getting scratched. “He’s my father. And our leader.”
“Does that mean he gets to do all your thinking?”
“That’s not fair.” He scuttles down a sharp incline of rocks and then offers his hand to me, which I ignore. “When we’ve disagreed with him, all of us—myself, Jessa, Callie, Logan—have gone our own ways. But it has to be something important, something we feel really strongly about. Because the truth is, Mikey’s a good leader. We’ve made it this far because of him. He’s proven, again and again, that he has our best interests at heart. We respect him, and that’s why we respect his decisions.”
Okay, then. I have my answer. Ryder’s willing to disobey his father when the cause is important—and I’m just not important enough.
He spins around, so abruptly I have to throw out my hands to avoid stumbling. They land squarely on his chest, and my mouth ends up inches from his.
“Did you know?” His tone is low and urgent. “When you said you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, ever again, did you know you’d be leaving in a few hours’ time?”
I sigh. “I was aware it was a possibility. But since it appeared in under half of the branches, I was hoping your offer to stand in for me would sway Mikey more than it did.”
He shifts closer, so that my hands feel less like a barrier between us—and more like a caress. “It’s nice to know that in some worlds, he values my opinion.”
“He always values you, in every branch, in every world,” I say, on the verge of tears and not sure why. “And so do Angela, Logan, and Callie. You are so loved. I don’t have to tell you that, but you should hear it anyway.”
His fingers hover in the air, and then they swoop down, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And what about you? Are you loved?”
I laugh, and the sound scrapes against my throat. “You don’t have to see into the future to know the answer to that question.”
“Olivia…” My name is both a plea and a question. His hand pauses at the patch of skin under my earlobe, waiting.
I back away, one big step and then another. It shouldn’t hurt, not in any physical way, but I feel like my skin’s being ripped apart. “I was right, you know. This makes it easier to say good-bye.”
“Does it?” he asks. “Because where I’m standing, it’s not easy. It’s not easy at all.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, a moment where—in other worlds—anything could happen. A kiss, a hug, a slap, a shove. More words, meaningful words, hurtful words.