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“It’s just a graze. But when the gun was pointed at us, I thought, ‘I have to kill him, or he’ll kill one of us. ’ But I didn’t. I couldn’t. ”
“Why are you—”
“Elder,” Amy says, “I believe in the bottom of my heart that Orion doesn’t deserve to live. There are some people,” she adds, emphasizing the word, “that don’t deserve a second chance. I haven’t forgotten what it was like to drown in my cryo box. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t remember. ”
I did that to her. Not Orion. Me.
“Two people are dead, and they died like I almost did. And he did that to them. ”
“Amy, I can’t stop the regeneration process. ”
“He doesn’t deserve to live. ”
“Would you kill him?”
Amy’s eyes dance back and forth between mine. She couldn’t kill Doc. But her hatred for Orion goes deeper.
“You’re right. Some people don’t deserve a second chance. But Orion—” I pause, unsure of how to explain. “Orion was wrong, yes. But it’s not like he went on a murdering spree or something. He had a reason. He acted out of fear. ”
Amy bites her bottom lip, thinking. I know she’s comparing Orion, who thought he was doing the right thing, to Luthor, who knew he was doing wrong.
I want to wrap my arms around her and erase the worry etched on her face, but I know it’s not as simple as that. “Maybe,” I say, turning back to the cryo chamber. “I can’t stop the regeneration. . . . But I can delay it. ”
Amy steps aside and lets me focus on the controls on the chamber. I feel two sets of eyes on me: Amy’s, begging me to keep Orion frozen, and Orion’s, pleading to come back to life.
“I can do it,” I say finally. “I can slow it down. ”
“Do it,” Amy says.
I punch the numbers in, adjust the dial, and the countdown clock goes from one day to three.
“Can we keep doing this?” Amy asks. “Every time the countdown clock gets low, can we just add more time?”
I nod slowly.
“That’s what we’ll do, then,” she says, her jaw set. “We’ll just keep backing it up. He doesn’t ever have to wake up. ”
Amy stares into Orion’s bulging eyes with a sort of fierce intensity. But I stare at Amy, unable to recognize this girl with such hatred in her heart.
70
AMY
WHEN ELDER AND I EMERGE FROM THE HATCH, THERE’S already a crowd.
“Is it true?” someone calls out.
“Is what true?” Elder asks.
“Is there still a way off this ship?”
Bartie offers me a hand, pulling me up from the last rungs of the ladder in the hatch. “I had to tell them,” he said. “It’s not like they couldn’t see the giant hatch in the middle of the pond. ”
“It’s true!” Elder calls.
“Do we all have to go?” someone else shouts. I whirl around to see who asked this, but I can’t tell. The crowd here seems divided. Those closest to the mud hole that used to be the pond are jubilant. They hug each other, happy tears staining their faces as they celebrate Elder’s words.
But other people linger near the back. They look suspicious and worried, scowling and talking to each other behind their hands. Even from here, I see a few with pale green patches. Some hold the patches in their hands, squeezing the wrapper but not ripping it open. Others already have patches on their arms, already have glazed looks in their eyes.
