Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
When I wake, I’m still atop X’s enormous chest. He doesn’t move as I push myself up.
I already know the truth before I try, and fail, to rouse him.
He’s still alive—his breath shallow and pulse slow but there—but he’s unmoving and unresponsive like he was in hibernation, even though the room is warm enough to have me sweating.
I slit a finger on one of his sharp teeth in an attempt to wake him again, and let my blood drip into his mouth.
Nothing happens. I shake him, whisper to him, clean and re-dress his bandages, but he doesn’t stir.
The wound on his chest has stopped bleeding; some sort of blue-black substance has hardened around it like a shell, and I don’t know whether or not to take that as a good sign.
Holding back tears, I curl up with my head on his chest. I tell myself that I’m trying to give him my body heat, but really, I know that I’m just seeking comfort. It would be so easy to sink into despair.
Instead, I set a fifteen-minute alarm on the alarm clock and let myself cry for the duration. When the alarm goes off, I sit up, wipe my tears, and think about how to move forward.
There’s no time to wallow in my own sadness. X needs me. He saved my life, and now it’s my turn to save him.
But how? I have no idea how to treat his wound. It’s not like I can just bring him to a hospital, either—especially when he’s now stuck in his natural alien form. Even if I were able to get my hands on things like painkillers and antibiotics, I’m not sure if they would help.
The only people who might know enough to save him are the scientists at the MRF.
It makes me sick to think about. Anything they know about his anatomy and his healing process would be information gained through cruelty.
Cutting him open and stitching him back together again.
Would he want me to save his life, only to doom him to more experimentation?
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop another wave of tears from escaping. I can’t bring myself to believe that he would choose death. X is a warrior. He would set his jaw and tell me he can handle whatever they do to him if it means he will see me again.
But I can’t put him back into that place without a plan to get him out again. I won’t do that. Just because he can take it doesn’t mean he should have to.
But how? How? After this, the MRF will only strengthen their security. And they might kill me on sight. I mean nothing to them. I have no power.
Or don’t I?
I slowly force my eyes open and make myself look at X again. I stroke a hand over his alien cheekbone and think of all of our long conversations. All of the things he told me. X gave me the gift of knowledge…and knowledge is power in a place like the MRF.
I took their notes. All of the information I learned about X exists solely in my mind.
It may be enough for me to save his life. But using it might also be enough to make him hate me. Is that a risk I’m willing to take? Can I rescue him and lose him at the same time?
As a single tear rolls down my cheek, I know my answer.
I dress in my old clothes, which are still damp, but at least the brown stains on the shirt aren’t immediately identifiable as blood. Then I make a call from the hotel lobby, find a spot to bury the files in the desert, and walk into town.
It’s strange, realizing that this is the first time in what feels like ages that I’m completely alone. I thought it would be a relief, to walk by myself under the open sky and feel free…but instead, the pressure in my chest only winds tighter.
I wish so badly that X were here. I want to show him that this world can be kind. And I’d feel so much safer walking into this with him at my side.
Instead I walk into the coffee shop alone. I take my time ordering a cup of tea before walking over to the corner where I already saw my company waiting for me. I sit and take a deep drink from my mug, even though it’s still steaming. The smell of chamomile makes me tear up again.
A good cup of tea is one of the many pleasures I haven’t been able to enjoy while I’ve been trapped in the MRF. I might end up back there—or dead—very soon, so I want to enjoy it.
But, God. I wish X were here to try it, too.
Ramsey sits with his arms folded across his chest, staring across the table at me as if he still can’t quite believe I’m here. I was surprised, too, to find him waiting alone. I expected to be swarmed by MRF guards and questioned as soon as I walked through the doors of this café.
He pushes to his feet as I approach and holds out a hand. “Wait.”
I pause and watch him cautiously as he scans my face, his brow furrowed.
“Show me your teeth,” he says.
Oh. He thinks I might be X in disguise. Smart, I suppose. I dutifully give him a fake smile. “After my first day at the MRF, you called me,” I say. “You said you hoped I wouldn’t scare too easily.” I take a seat at the table across from him. “It’s really me, Ramsey.”
He lets out a shaky breath and sinks into his own chair. “I heard you escaped,” he says after a moment of silence. “I wasn’t sure if it was some sort of cover-up, or…”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no. I’m very much alive.”
He shifts in his seat, guilt flitting across his features.
“Not a disappointment, Calliope. I hope you know that none of this was my idea. I didn’t know what Akimov was planning until it was too late to stop it.
” He leans forward slightly. “After I started voicing my disagreement, they asked me to take a leave of absence. I haven’t been in the lab. ”
I consider that as I sip my tea. I’m not sure what to believe, but it doesn’t really matter. “Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t there yesterday.”
His expression is grim. “So I heard. Your pet alien left a lot of bodies behind.”
I swallow back an unexpected burst of anger. “He’s not my pet, Ramsey.” I take a breath; that anger won’t serve me, not in this moment, so I push it down, deep down. “I could never control a monster like that.”
Ramsey looks at me with genuine surprise. “I heard you were awfully cozy with him.”
I pause. How much does he know? How much did he see? Was he truly away from the lab? I need to play this carefully. “Everything I did in that cell,” I say carefully, “I did to survive. And I succeeded. I got out, and I got away as soon as I could.”
“So where is he now?”
I lean back in my chair, letting the silence lengthen as I sip my tea. “First, I want to discuss the terms of our deal.”
His eyebrows rise. “Our deal?”
“Yes.”
He taps his fingers on the table. “You reached out to me instead of the higher-ups,” he says, searching my face. “Why?”
“Because I think we can help each other,” I say.
Just as he studies me, I’m studying him.
Noticing the flicker of nerves when he mentions the higher-ups, which deepens a suspicion I’ve held for a while.
“Because I think…we’re the last two people who know exactly what happened in that cell.
” He says nothing, but I see that unease pass over his expression again, and my suspicion deepens into certainty.
Akimov was alone when he trapped me in the cell. And the guards who came to extract me seemed genuinely confused about my fear of them. The higher-ups don’t know the truth about what was happening in that lab. It was all Akimov’s plan.
“I took as many files as I could from the lab,” I say calmly as my hands form fists in my lap. “Including everything that involved me. Which means we get to tell the story of what happened in that cell.”
Ramsey’s eyes widen.
“I also know quite a lot of information about X-11 that I’m sure the MRF would find valuable,” I continue, without giving him a chance to interrupt.
“And I’m willing to share it with you. I’m sure the higher-ups would be very impressed if you were able to salvage some of our team’s knowledge.
And it just so happens they have an opening for a lead researcher, now that Akimov is dead. ”
Ramsey is silent for a long moment. After I’ve spent so long trying to read X’s foreign emotions, Ramsey’s human face feels like an open book. I can practically see the thoughts drift through his head, one by one. Suspicion, calculation, greed.
“And why would you be willing to do that for me?” he asks.
“Well, I’m not doing it for free. I want to work together on this.”
“Of course,” he says. “You want to be free. And…what else? Money?”
I shake my head. It would be an easy way out, for me to take the money and run. Leave the state—maybe the country—and forget all of this ever happened. There isn’t much tying me here…except for X.
“I want a job at the MRF,” I tell him. “And not just as some research tech taking notes. I’m qualified, and as I’ve proved in my encounter with X-11, I’m capable of handling stress and extracting information that others fail to.”
“Don’t tell me you want to continue working with that thing,” he says, his lip curling in disgust.
“Of course not,” I say, doing my best to mirror his tone of absolute contempt.
“I didn’t think it needed to be said, but another condition of this deal is that I never want to get near that thing again.
” I take a breath. “It’s a simplistic creature.
Barely more than an animal. And it’s on the verge of death.
I highly suggest we force it into hibernation for a long, long time. ”
“Why not kill it?” he asks. “Surely we have much to learn from dissecting it.”
I arch a brow, affecting haughtiness even though my heart is pounding.
“No. Don’t act hastily. There is still information to be learned, and there’s a possibility of more of its kind showing up someday.
It told me it is a valued warrior among its kind…
” I lean forward, lowering my voice again.
“Among other things. As I said, I was able to extract plenty of information, including about its weaknesses. And the secrets that allowed it to plot its escape.”
Ramsey stares at me. I clench my sweaty hands together in my lap and will myself not to tremble. Finally, he chuckles and juts out a hand across the table. “As long as you can live up to your promises,” he says, “then we have a deal.”
I eye his hand and force a smile. “I’d like that agreement in writing, if you don’t mind. Signed and dated.”
He arches a brow but fetches a pen and napkin from the barista to humor me.
I’m sure he thinks I’m a fool, thinking a piece of paper will provide some kind of legal protection.
But as he slides it across the table to me, I scan it quickly and then put it into my pocket, careful not to crumple it even as anger makes my hand shake.
The handwriting is a match for the notes I received in the cell. Ramsey was lying about not being in the lab. It cements my belief that I can’t trust him, but it doesn’t mean I can’t use him.
This time, I’m the one who holds out a hand. He grasps it, smiling, clearly thinking that he’s won something.
“I look forward to working with you, Calliope,” he says.
“That would be Ms. Wright, sir.” A pause, a consideration. “And soon enough, I intend for it to be Dr. Wright.”