“Yes.”
“And I could die.”
“I don’t think you would,” Sephie said. “It’s a risk, though.”
“And I could never have any children of my own.”
Sephie hesitated. “Not in the normal way, but just think, Gaia. You’d be the mother of hundreds. And consider the other possibilities. With frozen blastocysts, a father could have a family of genetically identical children, triplets or quadruplets born at different times, spaced out over years.”
Gaia straightened and pushed the yellow bed curtain farther back, with a rattling of its rings. “What good is that? You won’t get genetic diversity that way,” Gaia said.
“Genetic diversity is not the problem I’ve been set to solve,” Sephie said. “That can come in time. Getting around the problem of infertility has been my goal, and I’ve done it. But who wants to go through all the complications of surrogate pregnancy only to have a child that will die soon of hemophilia? If you could see all the children’s funerals I’ve been to this last year. It’s awful.”
“Then why doesn’t the Protectorat work with Myrna Silk? Why not find a cure for hemophilia?”
“There is no cure. You don’t think we’ve looked? Myrna’s blood transfusions only postpone the inevitable. The real solution is to prevent the hemophilia in the first place. It keeps coming back to you.”
“No.”
Sephie tilted the lamp shade so it wasn’t on Leon’s face. “At least think about it. Even your blood type is perfect. With you as O neg, we only need to consider the father’s blood type when we choose whose womb to implant the blastocysts in. You’re the ideal mother.”
Gaia wasn’t going to argue anymore. “Why is this taking so long with Leon?” Instinctively, she took his pulse, checking the seconds on her locket watch as she counted the sluggish beats of his heart. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and his eyelids remained smooth in dreamless sleep, like a cursed prince in a fairy tale.
Sephie checked the drip again. “He should be around very soon. Be patient.” She faced Gaia. “Incidentally, we could do your surgery anytime, but tomorrow or the next day would be ideal. You were injected with a slow-release hormone when you arrived in the Enclave,” Sephie said. “With a kicker, we can have you ovulating within hours. That’s when it would be best to harvest your ovaries.”
“I said no.”
“But wouldn’t you do it, for Leon’s sake?” Sephie asked.
“Of course I would. But I’d have to trust the Protectorat to keep the bargain, and that will never happen.”
“Mabrother Rhodeski and Genevieve can keep him honest,” Sephie said.
“What happened to you?” Gaia asked. “When I knew you in Q cell, you were a good doctor.”
“I’m still a good doctor. Better than I ever was.” Sephie motioned to Mabrother Stoltz. “Give me a hand here and restrain his legs.”
“Is that necessary?” Gaia asked.
“He was not the most compliant patient before we put him under,” Sephie said. “I don’t want him hurting himself when he comes to.”
The nurse efficiently wrapped a restraint around Leon’s ankles, propped him more upright, and settled a pillow under his broken arm. He checked the restraint on Leon’s left arm. Then Mabrother Stoltz and Sephie moved back behind the desk and conferred in soft voices over the computer.
Gaia sat on the edge of the bed and held Leon’s left hand, careful not to disrupt the IV. “Leon,” she whispered.
Leon’s dark lashes were motionless along his cheeks, his eyebrows faintly curving. Tenderness curled through her. She’d seen him sleeping before, but in natural sleep his features were always a ready instant away from mobility, warm with an endearing quality she couldn’t identify. Now his stillness seemed too deep.
What if she really had to make a sacrifice to get him free?
Leon rolled his face toward the window, where the night breeze still drifted in.
“Leon,” Gaia said, leaning near anxiously. “It’s me, Gaia. Can you hear me?”
Leon’s eyes blinked heavily, and Gaia gingerly touched the hair over his forehead, careful not to bump his stitches. His gaze met hers for a searching moment. “No,” he said, his voice cracking.
Gaia’s heart slammed against her ribs. She squeezed his hand and reached for cup of water. “Drink this,” she said, trying to smile. “We have to talk.” She pressed the end of the straw between his lips. “Please, Leon,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
She watched the liquid draw up the straw and then his throat worked in several swallows. He opened his lips to release the straw. Stirring, he turned his gaze to his restrained feet and arm, his other splinted arm, and then back to Gaia.
“Have they hurt you?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “But look at you. Did you really fall from a water pipe?”
His was looking past her now, his eyes skimming the room. A soft curse passed his lips. “It’s night already. Have you seen Pyrho or Jack? Is Angie safe?”
Gaia glanced over her shoulder, and then kept her voice low. “Angie left the Enclave with Mace’s family, and Pyrho’s outside the wall, too. I haven’t seen Jack since yesterday morning.”
Leon nodded slightly. “What time is it?”
“Eleven, why?” she said, glancing at her locket watch.
He frowned at her. “Eleven exactly? You’re sure? An explosion is coming in about ten minutes, and when it does, promise me you’ll leave in the commotion.”
“I’m not leaving you here in an explosion,” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“This will be a minor one still, but it will cause a distraction. You can escape.”
“What have you done?”
Leon gave a tight, grim smile. “A series of explosions has already started by now, and they’re set to get worse. The only way to stop them is for the Protectorat to negotiate with us.”
“He can’t negotiate with us if you’re in a coma,” she said.
“So tell him to let me go. That can be one of your conditions.”
“I’m getting you out of here myself,” she said.
He nodded conspicuously at his bindings. “Is that right? You’re doing a good job of it so far. What are you even doing here?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be outside the wall.”
“So are you, remember?” Gaia said. “Things have gotten really complicated.”
She reached for the binding on his wrist to untie it.
Sephie left her desk and started over. “I can’t have you doing that. Mabrother?” she added, summoning the nurse.
The lights went out and the room was doused in darkness.
Gaia momentarily froze, blinded, then reached into her boot for her dagger and spun to put herself between the bed and Sephie. As Gaia’s eyes adjusted, she saw a faint, eerie glow through the windows, but it barely penetrated the room. In the distance, she could hear a commotion of voices, and then there was a bumping noise by the desk.
“What’s going on?” Sephie asked. A tapping noise suggested she was trying the keyboard of the computer. “Mabrother Iris?”
“Cut me loose,” Leon said quietly. “Gaia. Now.”
Gaia was peering toward Sephie, trying to make out where the doctor was. The shadows near the desk were impenetrable. Gaia took a step forward, squinting, and caught a whisper of movement. A pounding weight slammed down on Gaia’s shoulder. She rolled instinctively into the blow, ducking her head to dive into her attacker’s solid masculine body and shove him off balance. As he fell, she spun around with her dagger, anticipating a second assailant, and her blade caught flesh. Gaia’s leg was jerked out from beneath her, but she took Sephie down with her as she fell. Sephie hit the floor hard with a wordless grunt, and Gaia redirected yet again, swiftly slashing out toward Mabrother Stoltz.
Warm liquid sprayed across her hand, and a gurgling came in the darkness. Gaia gave the dagger a savage twist, shoved him off, and closed again on Sephie. The older
woman flailed beneath her, but Gaia grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the carpet. The woman’s body went stiff, and next began to relax, unresisting.
Gasping, Gaia pushed off from the floor and backed against the bed.
“Tell me that’s you,” Leon said.
“It’s me.”
“Did you kill them?” Leon asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” Gaia said listening for movement. Her dagger was slippery in her hand.
A wrenching noise came from the bed. “I can’t undo my wrist,” Leon said. “Hurry. One of them might come around.”
By touch, she cut his bindings and helped him off the bed, drawing his good arm around her shoulder. He was heavy and clumsy on his feet, and she could feel him stumbling as they hurried toward the door. She shoved it open to find the stairwell was a void of black.
“I can’t see a thing,” she said.
“I have the rail,” he said. “I know the way.”
“But your arm’s broken.”
When she slid her foot forward, she couldn’t find an edge, and she didn’t want to catapult down the spiral stairs. He tugged her toward him, pinning her against his left side. “Trust me, Gaia. Hold on,” he said, and then she felt his torso twist as he used both hands on the railing. She gripped him around the waist and kept her other arm out before her in the air, feeling the emptiness for a wall or shadow or anything as they descended. Trying to open her eyes wider made no difference at all.
“What happened to the electricity?” she asked.
“I blew up a couple of fuse boxes,” he said. “With a timer.”
“Is all of the Bastion out?” Gaia asked.
“About a quarter of the city, everything from the Bastion up over summit park.”
“A couple of fuse boxes did that much?” Gaia asked.
“They were at a power station. They’ll be able to get it up again pretty soon once they find the damage. It was just to give them an idea what we can do. Ouch!”
“What did you hit?”
“My toe. Come on.”
A moment later, they were down another flight, and hinges squeaked when Leon pushed open a door. Cooler air touched her face as he pulled her into a long corridor with windows arching in the wall to her left. They let in only the faintest light, but it was enough to orient her, and she drew Leon’s arm over her shoulder again. He was panting heavily, and she could tell the dregs of the narcotic still lingered in his veins.
A flicker of candlelight showed around the corner ahead.
“Someone’s coming!” she said.
“I see. Quick, over here.” He pulled her into a small bay that bulged off the hallway, and shoved open a window. He started to climb out.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Gaia said.
“It’s not much of a jump,” he said. “Hang by your hands as low as you can go. I’ll catch you.”
“You only have one good arm!”
She peeked her head back into the hall. The candlelight was coming closer, fast, and a man shouted.
“Hurry!” Leon called.
She stuck her head out and found him already below, waiting with his one good hand up. Like that’ll do much good, she thought, and scrambled out the window backward, lowering herself down as far as she could with her belly against the masonry. She pushed off the wall and fell toppling onto Leon. He crumpled to the ground, and her elbow jammed into the earth.
“Good?” he asked, hauling her up.
“Never better,” she said, cringing with pain, and rolled onto pavement. They’d made it to street level.
He was already leading her away again, moving lightly, and she noticed that he was barefoot. When she turned back for a look at the Bastion, it was entirely dark. Guests, musicians, and servants from the party were swarming in the streets while emergency personnel pushed through. She had no idea where Peter and the others might be. The surrounding houses were lightless, too, but Leon was faintly visible in his white clothes.
He was still panting, and at the end of the street, farther from the chaos, he stopped to brace himself against a building.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got a wicked headache.”
“Let me see your arm,” she said, tugging at his sleeve. He tilted his head back against the wall. He’d ripped his IV out of his arm, she saw, and there was blood running from the vein inside his elbow.
“You’re ruining your pretty clothes,” she said. She instinctively searched her pockets and came up with the Protectorat’s handkerchief. She folded it quickly and pressed the soft material against his lesion. “It’s a little wound,” she said. “Hold this here until it stops bleeding.” Then she realized his other splinted arm prevented him from holding his own elbow. “Never mind, I’ve got it,” she said, and gently squeezed the nook of his arm.
He put his broken arm awkwardly around her, and she leaned up for a kiss.
“You came for me,” he said.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t think.”
She instinctively hugged him closer.
“What did you expect?”
“We can’t stay here.” he said. “I have a way out. Come on, this way.”
“How? Not the tunnels, please.”
“I had a day here before I was caught. Enough time to set up a couple escape hatches. You’ll see.”
Before long, they were sneaking between the rows of the vineyard and using a ladder to scale the western wall, far from any tower or rampart. They hauled the ladder over and used it down the other side of the wall, to the steep, scabby hillside that dropped into the darkness of the wasteland.
They’d arrived again, back outside the wall.
CHAPTER 18
secrets
GAIA WOKE BESIDE LEON, with her head on his left shoulder and his splinted right arm resting lightly on top of her. As she shifted, his eyes opened, very near, and he smiled.
“Will it always be this hard to get you alone?” he asked slowly.
She curled her fingers into the white fabric of his shirt. “You are such a mess. How’s your headache?”
“A little better. You look very nice with sand in your hair, by the way.”
As she rolled upward on her elbow, her necklace slid sideways around her neck. His left sleeve was dirty with dried blood, but his IV hole had scabbed over. His stitches looked all right, too, she decided. Sunlight was coming over the edge of the ravine where they’d taken shelter, but half a kilometer to the east, up the ridge, the western wall of the Enclave was still a band of brown shadow. Without rising, Leon reached to pull a bit of something from her hair, sliding it down a long lock.
Dried blood still stained her hand, and she wondered if she’d really killed in the darkness the night before.
“I think I killed Sephie and Mabrother Stoltz, that nurse,” she said. Another thought occurred to her. “I didn’t throw up after.”
“You didn’t have time to throw up.”
“But I should feel worse,” she said.
“I don’t see that you had a choice. They attacked you in the dark.”
She licked her tongue around her teeth, trying to work up some saliva in her dry mouth. “I’m not sure I like what’s happening to me.”
He watched her, waiting, his blue eyes steady. She was afraid he’d say something more about how it wasn’t her fault. She’d trained to be able to defend herself, to fight if she had to. But this was the first time she’d had to do it so decisively. At the time, she hadn’t even questioned it.
But now, she didn’t like thinking of the noise Sephie’s head had made banging on the carpet. she cringed.
“It’s confusing,” she said.
“I know.” Leon ran a finger down her arm, to her red bracelet. “Would you do it again? The same thing if it happened?”
Slowly, she nodded. “I guess I would.”
She studied his features: the faintly arching eyebrows, the straight nose, the set of his mouth and jawline. He had a way of watching her wit
h his intense eyes that reached straight to the depths of her, bringing the truth there without a word.
“There’s something else bothering you, too. Isn’t there?” he said.
She nodded. “The Protectorat wants me to donate my ovaries to the Vessel Institute. In exchange, he’ll build a waterworks system for everyone outside the wall. Mabrother Rhodeski’s backing the plan.”
Leon sat up. “Say that again?”
She explained about how they wanted her eggs to start a line of anti-hemophilia babies, dozens of them. Taking out her ovaries was the safest way to do it. “Your father threatened to leave you in a coma if I didn’t agree.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t.”
He looked at her strangely. “Did you even think about it?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling. “I’d give up my ovaries in a second to save your life, but bargains never work that way. I don’t trust anything your father says.”
“We’ve never really talked about children,” he said.
“I want some someday, don’t you?”
“Yes. Definitely. Someday,” he said.
He rose to his feet, still shoeless, and held out a hand to help haul her up. “I notice you haven’t yelled at me for going into the Enclave.”
“I wanted to kill you.”
He grinned. “I bet.”
They started walking south over the rough ground, heading towards New Sylum.
“So much has happened since then,” Gaia said. “What other explosions did you set up? I’m assuming Pyrho helped.”
“He was really into it,” Leon said. “Jack helped a little, too, but mostly he got in the way. The chimney on Mabrother Iris’s house blew last night, and there’ll be a fire in the vineyards later today.”
“How many bombs did you set?” she asked.
“Enough,” he said. “I don’t want you to know the details. Pyrho and I can defuse them once the Protectorat starts delivering water for New Sylum. That’s all we ever wanted.”
“The bombs aren’t set to hurt anyone, though, are they? They’re just for the power grid and such?”
She watched his bare feet moving over the rocky ground, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.