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Over my earpiece, Anden’s voice comes on again. “I’m on my way,” he says urgently. “Are you all right? The jeep will take you straight to Batalla Hall, and I’ll have a full guard on you—”
“She’s feeding them information about the ports,” I breathe into the mike before he can finish. My voice shakes as I say it. “The Colonies are about to attack Los Angeles.”
I GET THE CALL ABOUT JUNE AS I’M SITTING WITH EDEN. After a morning of experimentations, he’s finally fallen asleep. Outside, clouds blanket the entire city in a bleak atmosphere. Good. I wouldn’t know how to feel if it were a bright, sunny day, not with this news about Commander Jameson and the fact that she’d tried to shoot June out in the open on the streets. Clouds suit my mood just fine.
While I wait impatiently for June to arrive at the hospital, I spend my time watching Tess through the glass of her room’s window. The lab team still surrounds her, monitoring her vitals like a bunch of goddy vultures on an old nature show. I shake my head. I shouldn’t be so hard on them. Earlier they let me put on a suit, sit inside next to Tess, and hold her hand. She was unconscious, of course, but she could still tighten her fingers around mine. She knows I’m here. That I’m waiting for her cure.
Now the lab team looks like they’re injecting her with some sort of formula mixed from a batch of liquid made from Eden’s blood cells. Hell if I know what’ll happen next. Their faces are hidden behind reflective glass masks, turning them into something alien. Tess’s eyes stay closed, and her skin’s an unhealthy yellow.
She has the virus that the Colonies spread, I have to remind myself. No, that the Republic spread. Damn this memory of mine.
Pascao, Baxter, and the other Patriots stay camped out at the hospital too. Where the hell else do they have to go, anyway? As the minutes drag on, Pascao takes a seat next to me and rubs his hands together. “She’s hanging in there,” he mutters, his eyes lingering on Tess. “But there have been reports of some other outbreaks in the city. Came mostly from some refugees. Have you seen the news on the JumboTrons?”
I shake my head. My jaw is tense with rage. When is June arriving? They said they were bringing her here over a quarter of an hour ago. “Haven’t gone anywhere except to see my brother and to see Tess.”
Pascao sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. He’s careful not to ask about June. I’d apologize to him about my temper, but I’m too angry to care. “Three quarantine zones set up now in downtown. If you’re still planning to execute your little stunt, we gotta move out within the next day.”
“That’s all the time we’ll need. If the rumors we’re hearing from June and the Elector are true, then this will be our best chance.” The thought of parts of Los Angeles being cordoned off for quarantines sends a dark, uncomfortable nostalgia through me. Everything’s so wrong, and I’m so tired. I’m so tired of worrying about it all, about whether or not the people I care about will make it through the night or survive the day. At the same time, I can’t sleep. Eden’s words from this morning still ring in my thoughts. Maybe everyone in the Republic can be a soldier. My fingers run along the paper clip ring adorning my finger. If June had gotten injured this morning, I wonder if the last shreds of my sanity would’ve vanished. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. I guess that’s true in a pretty literal sense too—my headaches have been relentless today, and I’ve grown used to the perpetual pain pulsing at the back of my head. Just a few months, I think. Just a few months, like the doctors said, and then maybe the medication will have worked enough to let me get that surgery. Keep hanging on.
At my silence, Pascao turns his pale eyes on me. “It’s gonna be dangerous, what you’ve told me,” he says. He seems like he’s treading carefully. “Some civilians will die. There’s just no way around it.”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” I reply, returning his look. “No matter how warped this country is, it’s still their homeland. We have to call them to action.”
Shouts echo from the hall beyond our own. Pascao and I both stop to listen for a second—and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was the Elector. Weird. I’m not exactly Anden’s biggest fan, but I’ve never heard him lose his temper.
The double doors at the end of the hall swing open with a bang—suddenly, the shouts fill the hall. Anden storms in with his usual crowd of soldiers, while June keeps up beside him. June. Relief floods through my body. I hop to my feet. Her face lights up as I hurry over to her.
“I’m okay,” she says, waving me off before I can even open my mouth. She sounds impatient about it, like she’s spent the entire day convincing everyone else of the same thing. “They’re being overly cautious, bringing me here—”
I could care less if they’re being overly cautious. I cut her off and pull her into a tight embrace. A weight lifts from my chest, and the rest of my anger comes flooding in. “You’re the Elector,” I snap at Anden. “You’re the damn Elector of the Republic. Can’t you make sure your own goddy Princeps-Elect isn’t assassinated by a prisoner you guys can’t even seem to keep imprisoned? What kind of bodyguards do you have, anyway—a pack of first-year cadets?”
Anden shoots me a dangerous look, but to my surprise, he stays silent. I pull away from June so I can hold her face in my hands. “You’re okay, right?” I ask urgently. “You’re completely okay?”
