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Tomas glances at one of the timers and sighs. “It’s starting to get late and there are still a few things I want to do before the two of them get here.” After brushing a quick kiss on my lips, he stands and grabs the mortar and pestle, the burner, and several of the plant samples and disappears into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later and takes the sample containers I placed to the side. Then he leaves the room again.
I rise and start to follow to ask him what he is working on. But then I stop. I trust Tomas to tell me what he is doing when he is ready. And I am glad for the solitude because I, too, have accepted that I may not live to see tomorrow, and so there is something I must do.
I take one of my charcoal pencils a
nd several sheets of blank, gray recycled paper from the bottom of my bag. For a while I just stare at the pages. Then I begin to write. I don’t know if these letters will make it to the intended recipients, but writing them helps organize my thoughts.
To my father I explain that I failed in heeding his warning. That while I cannot live my life without trust, I have learned better whom to give that gift to and that the things I do now I do with those who believe what I believe. They, like me, cannot know what I know and allow a broken process to continue. I apologize if the choices I’ve made make him unhappy or cause him and the rest of my family trouble, but explain that I cannot live my life pretending what I know is not real. He taught me that even the most corrupt patch of earth can be transformed into a place where living things thrive as long as someone is dedicated to that cause. This is my cause. I cannot make plants grow, but I can commit myself to removing the corruption in this soil. Maybe if I am lucky, something strong and good will grow in its place.
Tears stain the page as I sign my name and move on to the letter for my mother. Hers is shorter but filled with love, as is the one for my brothers, including Zeen. Has he found Dreu Owens? Have they talked to Ranetta yet?
Forcing those thoughts to the side, I turn my attention to the final page and write. I have wiped away evidence of my tears and am sliding that paper into the side pocket of Tomas’s bag when he returns from the kitchen with four water bottles, two in each hand. He puts down the ones in his right hand, takes my pencil, and draws a circle on the side of those two.
“This one contains a steeped mixture of the new strain of Valerian and lavender.”
That combination should relax muscles and reduce pain. It could also cause some people to fall into a deep sleep. It should help if one of us is badly injured.
He puts one bottle in his bag, hands me the other, and then picks up the other two and marks each one with a large black X. “These have a combination of Rosary Pea, Pokeweed, and Oleander. This second bottle probably won’t be needed, but I thought it might be good to have in case of an emergency.”
I start to ask what kind of an emergency he envisions, but before the words can pass my lips, I understand. This bottle is not meant for the people on President Collindar’s list. It, too, is meant for us. If we are caught by Dr. Barnes or the Safety officials, Tomas intends to kill himself, and from the way he looks at me I know he wants me to do the same.
I swallow hard and force myself to breathe as shock turns to horror. Whether we succeed or not, our lives could be taken. But while I accept that might happen, I cannot and will not make the choice to end my own life. To choose death is to say I am done fighting. That I give up not only on myself but on everything I love. I think of the letters I wrote and know I could never willingly abandon my family.
However, though I am determined to fight to the end, Tomas isn’t me. I have seen the guilt and despair building inside him since The Testing. What happened at the stadium only darkened his sorrow. A seed of anger has kept him going, but Tomas’s fuse is reaching its end. Once the fire is extinguished, his drive to fight will be gone, too. Especially if he thinks the fight has been in vain.
So, as much as I want to tell Tomas to leave the bottles behind or to promise not to use them, I don’t. Instead, I take the bottle he offers and place it in the side pocket of my bag so it cannot be confused with the others. Taking a deep breath, I walk back to Tomas, stand on my tiptoes, and place my lips against his, infusing the kiss with all the love and understanding I can.
I barely register the click from the Transit Communicator as Tomas pulls me closer. It is only when the sound comes again that I understand.
“Zeen is calling.” I feel embarrassment heat my cheeks as I step out of Tomas’s embrace and reach for the Communicator. “Did you find Dreu?” I ask Zeen. “Is he there?”
“I asked a couple of people in my group. If Dreu’s here, he’s probably with Ranetta. A few of my friends are going to ask around for me since I told them Dreu and I are from the same colony. From what I can tell, he’s been working on medical research and syphoning off resources for the rebels whenever possible. It sounds like he’s not here very often.”
Which means Zeen will be on his own. “Can you find a way to talk to Ranetta without him? Maybe if you say you know Dreu?”
“I’ll try, but I’m not sure anyone is going to let me through to see her. Not now that things are so crazy. Groups of rebels are already starting to head into Tosu. If I’m going to get close to Symon, I need to do it soon. Otherwise he might leave the base. Once that happens, there’s no telling where he’ll go. But if I can get through to Ranetta before then, I’ll let you know. Rumors are running rampant that some of the attack groups have been given different schedules based on whether they are in Symon’s or Renatta’s faction, so the tension is pretty high. When are you planning on starting your attack?”
Until the others arrive, we cannot know for sure. But with the rebels being deployed and the chance that the order to attack may be delivered before the scheduled time, there is no other option but to say, “We’ll do it tonight. We plan on setting off a diversion to pull away the Safety patrols. Once you’re done with Symon, you should come here,” I say, and I read off the coordinates on the Transit Communicator. Zeen doesn’t know Tosu City at all. Unless he manages to convince Ranetta that killing Symon is necessary, he will be viewed as a traitor in the camp. He will need somewhere to hide.
“If I finish and get off this base, I’m not going to hide. I’ll be coming to help you.”
Not if I can prevent it. Since he won’t know where to find me, I consider this a promise he can’t fulfill.
“I have to get going, but Cia . . .”
“Yes, Zeen?”
His words are barely a whisper when he says, “I’m not sure when we’ll talk again, but I wanted to say—I love you. Be careful. Okay?”
Pressure builds in my chest and behind my eyes. “I love you, too, Zeen. And Zeen . . . don’t do anything crazy.”
“Who, me?” His bright laugh makes me smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m counting on it,” I say. Despite the click from the Communicator, I continue to cradle it in my hands. As if holding it will somehow keep Zeen safe or bring him closer to me. Tomas tries to put his arms around my shoulders. I know he wants to offer me his support and comfort, but I pull away and walk to the other side of the room. While I love Tomas, I need to be alone with my thoughts of my brother.
I’m not sure how long I stand holding the Communicator, but the shadows on the floor have shifted when I hear the sound of low voices outside the boarded-up front door.
Someone is here.
