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I know you love me. I love you, and I always will, but—
It ends there. Water damage has made the rest of the message crinkled and illegible. For a second, I see red. How could it be so conveniently destroyed right at the critical spot? What was she going to say? She said she would always love me, but—
Part of me wishes the message ended right there, before that last word.
What happened? Did the paper get ruined by accident? Or could Ky have done it on purpose? Ky played fair in the games. He’d better be playing fair now.
I fold the paper back up and put it into my pocket. In the minutes that I’ve been reading the note the light has gone. The sun must have dipped below the horizon beyond the walls of the barricade. The door to the courtyard opens and Lei comes out, right as the other couple goes inside.
“Carrow,” she says. “I was hoping I would find you. ”
“Is something wrong?” I ask. I haven’t seen Lei in several days. Since she wasn’t part of the Rising from the beginning, she’s not working as a physic but instead as a general medical assistant, assigned to whatever team and shift needs her most.
“No,” she says. “I’m fine. It’s good to work with the patients. And you?”
“I’m fine, too,” I tell her.
Lei looks at me and I see the same question in her eyes that I know was in mine when I had to decide whether to vouch for her or not. She’s wondering if she can trust me, and if she really knows me.
“I wanted,” she says finally, “to ask you about the red mark that the patients have on their backs. What is it?”
“It’s a small infection of the nerves,” I say. “It happens along the dermatomes in the back or neck when the virus is activated. ” I pause, but she’s part of the Rising now, so I can tell her everything. “The Rising told some of us to look for it because it’s a sure sign of the Plague. ”
“And it only happens to people who have actually become ill. ”
“Right,” I say. “The dead form of the
virus they used in the immunizations doesn’t lead to any significant symptoms at all. But when a person is infected with the live Plague virus, it involves the nerves, resulting in that small red mark. ”
“Have you seen anything unusual?” she asks. “Any variations on the basic virus?” She’s trying to figure out the Plague on her own and not taking what the Rising says for granted. Which should make me uneasy about having vouched for her, but it doesn’t.
“Not really,” I say. “Now and then we do have people who come in before they’re completely still. I had one who was talking to me while I gave him the cure. ”
“What did he say?” Lei asks.
“He wanted me to promise him that he’d be all right,” I say. “So I did. ”
She nods, and it strikes me how exhausted she looks. “Do you have a rest shift now?” I ask her.
“Not for a few hours,” she says. “It doesn’t matter much anyway. I haven’t slept well since he left. I can’t dream. In some ways, that’s the hardest part of having him gone. ”
I understand. “Because if you can’t dream you can’t pretend that he’s still here,” I say. That’s what I do when I dream: I’m back in the Borough with Cassia.
“No,” Lei says. “I can’t. ” She looks at me and I hear what she doesn’t say. Her Match is gone, and nothing is the same.
Then she leans a little closer and to my surprise she puts her hand on my face, very briefly. It’s the first time someone has done that since Cassia, and I have to resist leaning into Lei’s touch. “Your eyes are blue,” she says. Then she pulls her hand back. “So are his. ” Her voice is lonely and full of longing: for him.
CHAPTER 13
CASSIA
At first the area near the Museum seems empty, and I clench my jaw in frustration. How am I supposed to earn my way out of Central if no one’s trading? I need the commissions.
Be patient, I remind myself. You never know when someone might be watching, waiting to decide whether or not they want to speak up. I’m the only trader here right now, which won’t last long. Others will come.
I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and a girl with short blond hair and beautiful eyes comes around the corner of the Museum. Her hands are cupped in front of her, holding something. For a moment I think of Indie and her wasp nest, and how carefully she always carried it in the canyons.
The girl comes closer to me. “Can I talk to you?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say. Lately, we’ve mostly done away with the passwords of asking about the History of the Society. There’s not as much need for them anymore.
She holds out her hands and there, sitting inside of them, is a tiny brown-and-green bird.
It’s so strange that for a minute I stare at the bird, which does not move in any way, except for the wind tossing its feathers gently.
They’re a shade of green I recognize.
“I made it,” the girl says, “to thank you for the words you wrote for my brother. Here. ”
