Beyond Reach, page 17
part #3 of True Calling Series
“Fine, Zane. We won’t touch Ariana, or the baby.”
“And what of the plans to get her family off Novo?”
“We’ll launch the rescue mission as soon as you provide the necessary access codes to enable our team to get safely in and out. We won’t risk the lives of our people foolishly,” she says, presenting a credible impression of someone who gives a damn.
“I’ll keep working on it.” But therein lies the dilemma of this situation. If I give them the codes—to enable them to rescue Lily and Anneka—I also give them some of the ammunition they need to over-throw the regime. Given everything I’ve learned in the last few weeks, I don’t trust their motivations anymore. It’s a bit of a catch-22, though they don’t need to know that.
Spending the rest of the day at work proves to be a grateful distraction. My brain is still so muddled with everything that has materialized over the last couple of days, and work is the perfect diversion.
Deciding to risk dropping in on Ari, I swing by her place on my way home. Deacon opens the door almost immediately, and I hear sounds of telltale retching coming from the bathroom. “How long has she been like this?”
“All afternoon.”
I knock anxiously on the bathroom door. “Ari, can I come in?” Receiving no response, I’m unsure if it’s because she’s incapable of speaking, or if she’s still mad at me, but I decide to chance it anyway.
“I don’t remember saying yes,” she mumbles, as I enter the room.
“You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
“Wanna bet?” She lifts her head briefly. I can’t help but smile. That’s my girl. My smile instantly fades. She’s not my girl anymore.
“What can I do to help?” I’m feeling pretty useless.
“Trade places maybe?”
“I would if I could.”
“I know that.” I think I might be forgiven.
“Why don’t I help you into your room?” She nods feebly. Gingerly reaching down, I relish the opportunity—for the second time today—to scoop her up into my arms.
The bed is already unmade, so I shove the comforter aside and tenderly place her on the mattress. Her eyes are closed as she lets her head fall back on the pillow, and I notice beads of sweat on her forehead. When I place my hand on her skin, it’s clammy to the touch. “Is it normal to be this ill?”
“Dr. Hann says a small percentage of women develop severe sickness in pregnancy; it’s rare, but still normal,” she says without opening her eyes.
“Isn’t there anything he can do to help?”
“Not really. He gave me another anti-sickness injection, but it hasn’t taken effect yet. I can’t even smell food without wanting to throw up. He said he’ll have to admit me to the hospital if this continues. Micha may get her wish after all.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I say, smoothing her hair back off her forehead. “She isn’t going to come near you.”
Her eyes flash open and latch onto mine. “What’d you do?”
“I’ve given them a friendly reminder of our deal. They won’t come near you for now. So don’t worry, okay?”
“You’re the best.” Weak fingers clutch mine.
“Have you told Mel or Deacon?”
“No, I thought I’d wait until Cal is more himself, and then tell them together.” One part of my brain understands why that’d make sense, but the image it conjures in my mind is akin to ten thousand knives stabbing my body all at once, and I think I could keel over from the intensity of the pain I feel.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, spotting the surge of pity swimming in her eyes.
“Zane, I …”
“I don’t want your sympathy. I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As soon as I’m out in the corridor, I take off at speed. I need to clear my head, and there’s only one place I want to be. As I run toward the entry hatch, my muscles stretching and extending, I begin to question whether I have enough strength to even be her friend. There’s only so much pain a person can withstand, and I think I may be reaching my threshold.
I’ve just reached the entry hatch when Raina reaches out to me. “Zane!”
“What’s wrong?” I can sense the urgency in her silent communication.
“It’s Isla; you need to stop her. She’s running away.”
CHAPTER 14
I haul myself up the access tunnel as fast as my feet will take me, scanning the woods from left to right. Spotting no sign of Isla in the distance, I frown. “Head west, Zane,” Raina silently guides me.
Drips of water land on my hair and face as I run. Looking up at the night sky, I can just make out the light drizzle of rain that falls steadily to the ground below. I can’t risk calling out her name in case there are any drones in the vicinity. When I don’t see anything remotely human ahead of me, I automatically increase my speed until I’m running at full capacity. Ignoring the burning sensation in my muscles, I push myself forward.
Gradually, a small dot appears in front of me, donning a more solid shape the closer I get. She strides forward with determination. Her body stiffens, and her head straightens when she finally detects the movement behind her. “Isla!” I call out softly. “Wait up.” Her posture relaxes ever so slightly, but she pounds purposefully ahead, as if she hasn’t heard me. It only takes me a minute to catch up to her. She looks sideways at me, and her expression is scathing. She doesn’t stop walking. My lungs holler for air, and my body aches to sit down on the soft, wet grass, but I push those needs aside and force my legs to keep pace with her.
“What do you want?” she snaps. It takes me a few moments before I can manage to steady my breathing enough to speak. “I don’t have all day.” She scowls as she twists in front of me, hands on hips.
“What are you doing?” I pant.
“What’s it look like? I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.”
“Why?”
She snorts. “As if you need to ask.”
“You’re leaving because I’m not speaking to you?” I’m incredulous, because even for Isla, this is taking over-reaction to extremes.
“Being unwanted isn’t exactly a new thing for me, hell, this is practically normal.” She absently kicks the dirt under her foot. Isla doesn’t like talking about her past, but that’s not unusual. Most of us don’t, the memories are nothing short of painful. She’s alluded on occasion to a difficult childhood, and I know that things haven’t been easy for her. Yet I don’t know the specifics, so I don’t understand exactly what’s driving her actions.
“Sit with me?” I ask, pointing to a fallen log on the ground a few feet to our right. She takes a few steps toward it and hesitantly sits down. Planting myself down beside her, I face her and our knees touch. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s the point?”
“I want to understand why you feel you’ve no other option but to leave. No matter what’s gone on with us, you can’t just leave; it’s not safe. I know you know that.”
Drawing a large breath, she fists her hands into tight balls as I patiently wait for her to start. “This isn’t the first time I’ve felt that I’ve outstayed my welcome,” she says after a very long time. Her voice is low and quiet, her eyes downcast as she reaches down and grasps a small twig lying on the grass by her foot. Tilting her chin up with my finger, I force her gaze to mine. “My parents died in an airplane crash when I was eight. I, and my sister Dee, went to live with our aunt and uncle. They didn’t have any children of their own, so the extended family felt they were in the best position to take us in. They didn’t know what hit them. Dee was three years older than me and a real handful. We were both so upset and really all we needed was some kindness, some love. But we didn’t get either of those things in that household.” She shudders and squeezes her eyes shut. I lace my fingers in hers.
As she gradually opens her eyes, I see the remnants of countless nightmares lying behind her tortured expression. “When I was eleven, they sent us to boarding school, which was both a blessing and a curse. I didn’t have many friends there, and I was so lonely. Dee was completely out of control by this stage, and I rarely saw her anymore. She was trying to deal with her own demons, I guess.” She stops talking, and her eyes glaze over as she stares straight out into the forest.
Clearing her throat, she continues. “Dee jumped off the roof of the school when I was fourteen. My aunt and uncle stopped visiting after that. I withdrew into myself and became very angry at the world. That’s when I started getting into trouble, but the deeper it got, the more invigorated I felt—like I was feeling alive for the first time. They kicked me out when I was fifteen. I was living on the streets for a few months before the change. It was … a life-defining moment for me.” She laughs bitterly before abruptly stopping. “I know for most people—for you—what happened on Earth was the worst thing imaginable, but it was a golden opportunity for me. Not that I’m happy about their control-happy-trigger-finger, but it meant I could find a new path, a new life. When I secured the job in Ceut and made friends, for the first time since my parents died, I felt like I belonged. That I had people I cared about, who cared for me in return. When you asked Clementia to allow me to live here, and join the movement permanently, I can honestly say it was the best day of my life. Until she arrived, and then everything turned to crap.”
Isla’s always been a tough nut to crack, so strong and independent on the outside, but I often wondered what was hidden on the inside. Now that the shell has been removed, I can see the hurt and loneliness from half a lifetime of pain and suffering. I’ve never seen her so vulnerable, and my heart bleeds for her.
Though her recent actions were deplorable, and she’d given me due cause to push her away, I feel thoroughly ashamed of myself. I’ve barely given her a second thought these last few weeks, and I certainly haven’t been worthy to be called her friend. She’s been nothing but a loyal, supportive friend to me these last two years, and I’ve let her down in the worst possible way. I see now how devastating Ari’s arrival was for her. I never even attempted to understand how it would make her feel. With this realization comes a torrent of guilt for abandoning her when she needed me most. Yes, she has done some terrible things, and gone about everything all wrong, but now that I understand her motivations more clearly, it’s easier to find forgiveness in my heart.
“Isla, I don’t want you to leave. Please come inside and talk some more.” Her eyes moisten with tears. Rising, I stretch my spine out straight to ease the ache in my lower back. I pull her up into my embrace, my arms circling tightly around her trembling form. Her entire body quivers as she lets go, and gut-wrenching sobs wrack her frame. “I really don’t want you to leave. You’re too important to me,” I whisper. And I mean it. She lifts her head up, and tear-sodden eyes find mine. She nods. I ease out of our embrace and entwine my fingers in hers, and we walk quickly and quietly in the direction of the entry hatch.
Back at my apartment, I’ve left Isla to make coffee, while I run her a bath. As I replay her words over and over again in my mind, I’m saddened for her. I never would’ve guessed that behind her tough exterior lay such a tortured soul. It helps me understand the depth of her hurt when I rejected her, not once, but twice now. Although it doesn’t excuse her behavior toward Ari, at least I know where it’s stemming from.
Isla emerges from the bathroom, wrapped snugly in a bright white bathrobe. She’s all shiny and clean, on the outside. Dripping wet hair plasters the skin on her neck, and she clutches a small towel and comb in her left hand. “Sit,” I demand. She lands on the edge of the couch without any hint of protest, and I snatch the towel from her hand. Gently dragging it backward and forward over her hair, I tease the ends out, and pat them dry. I lift the small comb and run it carefully through her damp hair, untangling as I go. She arches her head back, and her eyelids flutter shut as a gentle sound emanates from the back of her throat. Afraid to confuse the situation by inciting any declarations of love, I hop up off the couch. “Right, you’re done. I’ll get more coffee. You relax, maybe find something to watch.” She smiles warmly at me, and I catch a glimpse of the person she should be, could be, if she wasn’t so damaged by her past.
We talk well into the early hours of the morning, and Isla shares more with me than she ever has before. I can almost see the weight lifting from her shoulders. Insisting that she stays the night—I’m not entirely convinced that she still won’t try to abscond—I happily give up my bed. Grabbing a spare comforter and pillow, I settle myself down on the couch, and I’m asleep before I even realize it.
“Up, Zane!” Isla shouts loudly in my ear the next morning, batting my head with a pillow.
“Cheers for the wake-up call.” I brush the hair out of my eyes and sit up. Isla’s already fully dressed and raring to go. “What are you up to?”
“Thought we could head to the training unit and work up a sweat. You game?”
“Sure, on one condition.”
Pursing her lips, she gives me one of her trademark special looks. “Let’s hear it.”
“You promise not to pull a stunt like last night again.”
“It wasn’t a stunt,” she insists.
“Isla? Promise. Me.”
“Are we … friends again?” She shuffles anxiously from one foot to the other.
“Definitely.”
A smile as bright and wide as the sun illuminates her face. “I promise,” she whispers, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. “What about Ari?”
“I don’t know. She’s engrossed in Cal now anyway.” Rubbing my palm against my jaw, I feel a layer of tension bind the muscles in my face.
“So what are you going to do about it?” she asks.
I’m more than a little perplexed. “There’s nothing I can do about it … it’s pretty much a fait accompli.”
“You can fight! If you love her as much as you say, then you need to fight for her!”
Come again? Have I heard this right? “Why would you want me to do that? You don’t even like her.”
“You can’t just give up, because otherwise, what was the point of it all? Me loving you, you loving her, her loving him. It’s so totally screwed up.”
I’m feeling pretty confused, and a pain starts to throb behind my left eyeball. “So let’s say—for arguments sake—that I do fight for her, how does this benefit you in any way?”
“I’ll get closure. If you succeed, then you’re lost to me, and I can move on. If you fail, then maybe you can move on, and I might have a fighting chance.”
Wow, when did Isla turn into the mature one in this partnership? “Can you at least try to be nice to her? She’s been through some horrendous things recently. And you kinda owe her.”
“I’ll be nice.” Narrowing my eyes, I peer at her suspiciously. “I promise,” she adds. And you know what? I actually think she means it.
“I know I haven’t been a good enough friend, but I’m determined to make it up to you,” I say. I throw off the comforter, stand up, and wrap my arms around her. I realize—too late—that I’m standing in only my boxers. The amused expression on her face tells me she knows it too. “I’d better grab some clothes.”
“Don’t bother on my account. I’m perfectly happy with the view.” She wastes no time examining me from head to toe. “Though, we don’t want to frighten the neighbors, so second thoughts …” Grinning wickedly, she barely deflects the pillow I throw at her. I smile to myself as I head into my bedroom. It’s moments like these where I can happily acknowledge how easy it is to like Isla.
We stroll side by side into the kitchen, and it almost feels like old times. There’s a lightness to Isla’s gait that’s been missing since Ari arrived. The communal area is bursting at the seams, and everywhere I look, there are people clustered in groups, laughing and chatting over breakfast. “I’ve a headache already,” Isla says sourly, shouting loudly to be heard over the commotion.
After I’ve foraged for something to eat in the rapidly dwindling mound of breakfast supplies, I head toward the seated area; Isla trails a little ways behind me. Ari lifts her hand to wave me over, but falters mid-air when she spots Isla at my rear. Her look darkens instantly. “Give me a minute.” Nodding, she hangs back.
Deacon, Mel, Ruby, and a couple of boys I don’t know are seated around the table, chattering away. “Hey,” I say, crouching down on my knees. Ari’s gaze still rests on Isla, but she turns her eyes to mine, a puzzled look on her beautiful face. “Before you say anything—she’s having a rough time of it, and she’s genuinely sorry. I have to forgive her. I was hoping that you can too, for me?”
Her expression is empty as she thinks about it. I wait patiently for her reply. “You know I’d do most anything for you, right? But this is too much, Zane. She tried to turn me over to the authorities, and she’s been a major pain in my butt the whole time I’ve been here. I can’t forgive her, and I’m actually surprised that you can.”
“I’m not happy about that, but she’s truly sorry. And she needs me too. I can’t abandon her.” I rub the ache in my lower back as I stand.
Ari pauses for a moment. “I’ll try to tolerate her, but I swear, she’d better not start on me …”
“You’re amazing. Thank you.” My lips brush her forehead of their own volition. She jumps in her chair, and color stains her cheeks. Ignoring the anguished ache in my chest, I wave Isla over. I make quick introductions as we take our seats. Ari glowers at Isla suspiciously.
“Zane, Isla? This is Riga and Xander; they’re twins,” Ruby says, indicating the two boys sitting on Ari’s right-hand side. I’ve never met identical twins before, and I’m on the verge of suggesting name badges when Isla cuts in first.
“Duh, like we’d never have figured that out.”
Ruby’s scowl perfectly matches Ari’s. Resisting the urge to yank Isla up by her hair, I shoot her a warning glare instead. One of the twins stretches out his hand and grasps Isla’s fingers in his firm grip. Jet-black hair tumbles in waves over a tan forehead, and piercing blue eyes meet mine as his firm handshake is extended my way. “I’m Riga; he’s Xander. We arrived a couple of days ago from the Clementia Washington compound.”
