“You don’t normally stand guard over me though, do you?” I questioned.
“No,” he said, meeting my eyes. “He seemed pretty suspicious, but he was also dozing off.”
“Night time then?” I asked, feeling my strength start to return. I flexed my arms and legs and pulled myself into an upright sitting position.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling something out of the bag. “About three in the morning.”
“How long has it been?” I asked. I realized then it was clothing he’d pulled out of the bag and I was wearing a grimy hospital gown. “How long have I been under?”
“Fourteen days,” he said, his voice grave.
“What?!” I shouted without thinking. Tristan instantly hissed for me to keep it down, a finger pressed to his lips.
“I’ve been out for two weeks?” I said. My head spun again at my spike in hostility.
Tristan nodded, looking back toward the door. It remained closed and the hall quiet.
“What about West?” I asked, my stomach turning cold and hard.
“They did the surgery,” Tristan said, turning his attention back to me. “It was pretty rough from what I hear. We only had so much anesthesia since you were under for so long, so they couldn’t give him a strong dosage. It wasn’t easy for him.”
“But they got it out?” I asked. It felt like a snake had wrapped around my heart and lungs, tightening until I heard what I needed confirmed. “The scrap?”
He slowly nodded. “Yeah, they got it.”
A relieved sigh escaped my chest and my entire body sagged with it.
“He’s in recovery, but it’s going to take a while. Like I said, it was pretty rough. He’s been drinking a lot of alcohol just to try and dull the pain.”
As sorry as I might feel for West that he was in pain, I knew he would survive it. If he could survive TorBane, he could survive the pain.
“Thank you,” I said, placing a hand on Tristan’s arm.
He nodded again.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get you dressed before I get you out of here.”
“You’re going to help me escape?” I questioned, my eyes narrowing at him.
“They’ve helped your friend,” he said, pulling a pair of boots from his bag. “They can’t hang that over your head anymore. And…well, they’ve sewn you up so they must be finished with you.”
Suddenly I had to confront what I had been ignoring until that point.
My head was freezing cold.
I raised a tentative hand, my fingers hovering for a long moment. The back of my eyes stung and there was a large lump in my throat.
“Gentle,” Tristan said, his expression regretful.
My fingers very first met sticky stitches. And bare skin.
I slowly ran a hand over my head.
They’d shaven every last trace of my hair away.
“What did they do to me?” I whispered, my eyes blurring.
Tristan cleared his throat and his voice was rough when he spoke. “I didn’t see any of it,” his eyes dropped from mine. “But the stitches run all the way around your head. It looks like they did some serious digging.”
And then everything I’d seen while I was under hit me like an anvil to the chest.
Dr. Evans. Both of them. West as a kid. A kid that I hated.
Seeing myself. Talking to myself. Hating myself.
What did that even mean? How far had they broken me that I would be seeing and talking to myself?
“You okay?” Tristan whispered.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head as my eyes stared at nothing distinguishable on the floor. “I am not okay.”
“Understandable,” he said. “But we’d better get moving or we’re not going to get you out of here in time.”
I nodded, taking a second to try to collect myself.
I stood, only to collapse to the floor.
Tristan swore and helped to pull me to my feet. “I swear I’m not just trying to catch a peek, but it looks like I’m going to have to help you get dressed.”
Holding Avian firmly in my mind the entire time, I let Tristan help me stand while I awkwardly pulled the hospital gown off and slid into clothes that weren’t mine. I was immensely grateful when I realized the necklace Avian had made me was still around my neck.
“Drink some of this,” Tristan said when I was clothed. He handed me another plastic bottle of red liquid. “It tastes like crap, but it will help bring your strength back quicker.”
He was right, it was awful. Like liquid sugar. But it instantly flooded my system with energy.
“Come on,” he said, slipping one of my arms around his neck and half hauling me out the door.
He dimmed the lamp when we got into the hallway. He turned left down a passageway and we walked silently for about fifty yards. We took a sharp left, and then another immediate right. Tristan opened a door with a set of keys and then locked it again behind us.
The space we were in was large and dark. An old bed was pushed into one corner and a guitar leaned against the wall.
“This is my room,” Tristan said, leading me to the bed and easing me onto it. “It’s right under an old coffee shop. I opened up the floor to it a few weeks after I joined the Underground. Like you said, there’s something not moral about a few people here and I wanted a way out if I needed it, whenever I wanted. No one else knows about it.”
I nodded. “Just give me a second.”
I placed my hands over my eyes. My fingers were shaking violently.
I was always the one who saved people. I wasn’t the one that needed saving. This wasn’t who I was.
I took five deep breaths, then sat halfway up.
“You could come with me,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You’d fit in in New Eden. The people there aren’t perfect, but they’re good people.”
“You have no idea how tempting that offer is,” Tristan said, shaking his head as he looked up at the ceiling. “But there is something else you need to know.”
The air grew colder somehow with his heavy words and I knew whatever he said next would be bad.
“I overheard Margaret talking to some of her crew,” he started explaining. “That beacon they tried setting off down where you live? They left another one there and they’re planning to set it off remotely.”
“What?” I growled. “When?”
“New Year’s day,” he said, his expression darkening. “Margaret is pretty pissed off. Her entire mission seems to have failed, first with getting your colony to cooperate, and second with you. Sounds like they didn’t get what they wanted from you.”
“New Year’s,” I breathed. “How far away is that?”
“Thirteen days,” Tristan replied.
“What about West?” I asked. “I’ve got to get him away from these people. West hasn’t exactly been pleasant to be around lately, but he shouldn’t be here.”
Tristan shook his head, pacing the room. “He won’t be ready to leave for at least a few more days. You can’t wait that long. You’ve got to warn your people.”
“How am I supposed to just leave him here though?” I said, my chest tightening. I was pissed with West for what he’d done, but I wouldn’t let them keep swaying him into being a bad human being.
“I’ll stay, keep an eye on him. I can’t guarantee what Margaret will do when she discovers you’re gone. I’ll protect him until he’s strong enough to travel. Then I’ll tell him what happened, the truth. We’ll follow you as soon as he’s ready.”
“And you’re sure you’ll be able to get the both of you out?” I questioned. Tristan really was a good man if he was willing to protect West, not even knowing him.
“I’m going to try my best.” He walked to the far corner of his room and pulled an armoire away from the wall. I saw the dim cut out square in the ceiling.