24
“YOU ALL RIGHT?” WES ASKED, WALKING slowly toward Nat, keeping his balance as the ship lurched starboard. “He didn’t—hurt you—did he?”
“No,” she said bitterly. “Don’t worry, I’d never let him touch me.”
“The boys only know what they’ve seen on the nets. I could toss them overboard now, but they’re the only crew I’ve got,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t do more than promise I’ll make damn certain they keep away from you for the rest of the trip.”
She shook her head. “How long have you known about me?” she asked, her fingers shaking a little as she zipped up her jacket, making sure the stone was hidden underneath many layers once more.
Wes gazed to the ceiling. “I didn’t know, but I suspected.”
“You didn’t care? You don’t think you’ll—catch it? And rot?” She pulled her jacket closed, zipped it to her neck.
“No,” he said softly. “That whole thing is bunk anyway. You can’t catch the mark. Either you’re born with it or you’re not, right? It’s not a disease.”
She was still shaking from the heat and the fire—she could have
“That’s why your friend—Mrs. A—tried to get you out of the country, wasn’t it? Because you were marked.”
Nat raised her green-gold eyes to his dark ones. “I was three years old when I understood people were afraid of me.” She told Wes about playing in the neighbor’s apartment that day; Mrs. Allen sometimes left her there when she went to work. Nat didn’t like the boy she was meant to play with—he was older and mean, pinching her when no one was looking, making sure she never got the cookie she wanted, telling her she had to stand in the corner for a myriad of trivial infractions. She was scared of him, and one day he told his mother a bald-faced lie, that she had been the one who had thrown the ball through the window and let the cold in. Then when his mother left the room Nat pushed him. She hadn’t laid a hand on him, but she had pushed him with her mind—slammed him across the room, so that he hit his head on the wall and he crumpled to the carpet, wailing.
“She did it! She did it!” he’d screamed.
“I didn’t touch him!” she’d yelled in her defense.
“Did she push you?” his mother demanded.
“No,” David had said. “But she did it.” He’d looked at her with those mean black eyes. “She’s one of
After that, Nat was no longer welcome in their home, and when Mrs. Allen found out what had happened, the old lady began planning their escape.
“Yeah.”
He whistled. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t put me in there.”
“So that’s why we couldn’t find anything on you,” he said. “Farouk’s pretty good on the nets; I thought it was strange you didn’t have an online profile.”
“They keep us off it. It’s easier to disappear someone if they’ve never existed,” she said.
“MacArthur’s a military hospital. You were part of the gifted program?”
She looked up at him, startled. “You knew about that?”
He grimaced. “Yeah. I ran one of the first teams.”
“We might have worked together, then,” she said.
“Is that why I look familiar?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She hesitated. “I was under Bradley. My commander.”
Now it was Wes’s turn to look unnerved. “He was mine, too.” He knitted his brows. “What kind of work did you do for him?”
“If only I could remember,” she said. “They mess us up, you know, to keep things confidential, to make us forget . . . they used to put us in ice baths, to freeze our memories somehow. I don’t even know who I am, what my real name is,” she said bitterly.
“I like ‘Nat,’” he said with a smile. “It’s as good a name as any.”
“So, now you know what I am for sure, what are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“Take you where you want to go. You’re headed for the Blue, aren’t you? You can admit it now.”
She exhaled. “Yes.”
“Well then, that’s where we’re headed. I’ll take you there or die trying. Okay?”
“Okay. I’m fine, you can go now.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“So you keep reminding me.” He sighed. “Listen, maybe it’s best if you get out of the crew cabin—you can bunk with me in the captain’s if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” she said, and she found herself giving him an awkward hug, surprising them both. She pressed her cheek against his chest. This was not like the other day, when she was toying with him. She wanted to hug him because being close to him made her feel better. She never realized how tall he was; she only came up to his chin, and she could hear his heart beating underneath the many layers he wore.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, patting her back somewhat stiffly. “I’m taking your credits,” he joked.
“So you keep reminding me,” she said quietly.
They stood in the middle of the room, simply holding on to each other, and she found solace in the warmth of his embrace. “You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” she whispered. “That I was marked?”
“If I did, does it matter?” he asked. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Not on my ship, at least. Besides, it would be a shame to cover up your eyes.”
She felt his breath on her cheek. “Why?”
“Because they’re beautiful,” he said. Their faces were inches apart, and she trembled in his arms. He leaned in and she closed her eyes . . .
Then the ship lurched to the port side again, throwing them against the far wall. They heard an unbearable sound—like a scratch on a chalkboard—a high-pitched whine of discord and then a grinding crash, as they parted from each other.
“Go,” she said, pushing him away. “
Wes shook his head and cursed as he ran out of the room to see what had happened to his ship.
25
THE SOUND GREW LOUDER AND MORE unbearable. Wes held his hands to his ears as he ran up the deck toward the bridge. He hesitated for a moment, paralyzed, when he saw what had happened. It was worse than he’d thought. Towering above him were two floating mountains of junk, twin trashbergs composed of rusted
