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The truth was so terrible that it pierced me again with a keen sting, and I choked on another sob.
“What?” John entreated me softly. “Talk to me.”
“The Wastelanders they’ve kidnapped,” I managed. “They’re…they’re feeding them to the Lifeline machine. That must be how they keep up his supply without having to sacrifice any of his followers.”
John pinched the bridge of his nose and uttered a truly foul curse. “You’re probably right. But why does he need so many? It doesn’t seem like the Sire—” he spat the word with disgust, “—needed so many warm bodies at once to make the stuff.”
“He had a bigger pool to draw from to begin with,” I reminded him. “All the compounds, over decades. But you’re right. That said, you also mentioned Jim J was promising it to his followers.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s an empty promise—something he was saying to get people to join up. He doesn’t seem like the sharing type.”
“Maybe,” I mused. “Or maybe not.”
The thought of more potential maniacs like Jim J wasn’t one that I could entertain that night after seeing my father killed. There was only so much I could take at once.
“One insane problem at a time,” John sighed, echoing my thoughts. “So, the question is…what do we do with all this?”
My answer was immediate. “We tell everyone the truth, of course.”
“But how?” he asked, and it was a valid question. “And will they believe it?”
I produced the thumb drive from my pocket; I hadn’t dared to keep it anywhere but on my person at all times.
“I copied everything I could onto this,” I said, swallowing hard. “Including the video of his execution. So, there’s proof.”
John stared at the drive in my hand, clearly thinking. “There’s something I should tell you. You know the festival next week?”
“The Summer Festival,” I said, nodding. It was an outdoor event that featured food and entertainment for the general public. We’d had them in the Cave, and they were mandatory to attend unless you had work exemptions. Enforced merriment, my father used to call them with a grin. They were intended to boost morale, and given the state of the Delta recently, I could see why they’d go ahead with it, even with the security risks. They were slowly losing their hold on their population, bit by bit, thanks to the Order and the White Rose.
I was to give a speech at the opening of the festival—another morale booster, because despite my bewilderment, I polled well with the remaining public. They liked seeing one of ‘them’ on the level with the Sire, and surviving the library bombing had apparently only increased my mystique and likability.
“The White Rose is planning an attack during the festival,” John continued. “That’s when I have to finish my mission for them. My plan was to get it done and then take you home. There’s no reason for us to stay any longer after that; they’ll disable your tracker, and the Delta will be too distracted by the attack to stop it this time. We can go home.”
My heart ached with the possibility of finally leaving this awful place, drawing a line under this horrific chapter in our lives.
“I can’t go without exposing this,” I said softly, regretfully. I wished that I could. My conscience—and my father’s memory—wouldn’t allow it. “I wouldn’t be able to live, John. Not fully.”
He nodded as though he expected that answer. “I get it. But you said it yourself, baby: you deserve peace, and part of that is getting the hell away from here. So, when we go back to the garrison to disable your tracker, we’ll give them the drive. I trust that Ayanna will know how to use it to expose the truth—better than we do, anyway. And you’ll have done what you need to, but you’ll still be safe. That’s what I care about.”
I sighed. I didn’t necessarily like that solution—it didn’t satisfy my need for retribution towards Julius, and being the one to take him down—but it made sense. I’d already taken an enormous risk in getting this information. I didn’t have to risk everything again just to prove a point. As much as I felt I had a duty to expose the truth, I also had a husband and a home that needed me. Getting myself killed would be a poor way to repay the sacrifices John had made to reach me inside the Delta.
“Alright,” I said. “What do I need to do in the meantime, then?”
“Get to one of the White Rose troops,” he answered. “We’ll be wearing our gas masks, so we’ll be easy to spot. They’ll keep you safe until I come pick you up. But if you have a chance to get out of the park, don’t wait for me, okay? Make your way to the White Rose garrison and get inside. Kimmy will be there, acting as a medic during the battle. If you’re not at the park, that’s where I’ll go to get you.”
I nodded, and with the decision came a desperate urge to forget.
John’s arms tightened around me, readjusting me in his lap, and he tilted my head to meet his eyes. Not for the first time, I noted how tired he looked. Worn down and world-weary. As much as I needed to go home, I knew in that moment that John needed it even more, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him.
“I love you,” he murmured, stroking my cheek. “It may not make anything better…but I’m still here for you. Always.”
A lump formed in my throat again, and I chased it away by kissing him. I needed to forget, even just for a little while. My kiss was slow at first, but then deeper and hungrier, pressing my tongue into his mouth. John made a sound of surprise, but he gave me what I wanted. I straddled his lap, my hands coming up to cup his face and pull his lips even more fiercely against mine. I rocked my hips against him, which elicited a short groan from deep in his chest. He briefly broke the kiss, looking up at me with concern.
“You sure you want this?” John asked, cupping my cheek. “I don’t mind just holding you, baby. You’re hurting, I don’t want—”
I silenced him again with my lips, then said, “I want to feel something other than pain or fear. And in case everything goes sideways during this festival—” he made a sound of protest, “—I want to feel something good now.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, pulling my forehead against his. “I’ll protect you, no matter what happens.”