For a second, a horrifying second, Cora was gone. The cherry tree smell turned to smoke; the petals landing on his ribs singed him with little jolts of pain. He reached out a hand for the fox. Or for Cora. Or for one of the many faces that came to him, the animals and the kids all mixed together.
“Look out for Bonebreak!” someone screamed. “He’s getting control again!”
There was a swirl of commotion, but it mostly stuck to the black edges of his vision. He saw a knife in Nok’s hand. Rolf and Leon hurling themselves toward Bonebreak, who was out of his chair now and had stopped moving in that robotic way.
Mali leaning over Anya’s limp body, shaking her.
Lucky tried to speak. Let him take us back, they need us there! We can fight!—but a ricochet of pain silenced him. No one was paying attention to him anyway. Another searing wave of pain hit his ribs. For the first time, Lucky peeled back the jacket and looked at his side. The safari uniform had split down a seam; there was dark, gooey blood. When he moved, more blood came. He picked at one of the shirt’s knots until it came loose, and pain shot through him, as something else seemed to tumble out of his side. Was that bone?
“I . . . I think I’m dying.”
His voice sounded surprised even to his own ears.
Cora twisted to him, her beautiful blond hair whipping around like wheat on his granddad’s farm. The color of sunlight. The color of warmth.
She looked down at his jacket and screamed.
Then the black around the edges of his vision poured into the center, and there was only darkness.
41
Cora
“NO!”
Cora collapsed onto the floor next to Lucky. A second ago, Bonebreak’s regaining control of his body had been her worst nightmare; but that was nothing compared to the bloody mess spilling out of Lucky’s jacket.
She slid her hands around his neck, scared to touch him too hard. “Lucky. Wake up!” His body felt so heavy. “You have to wake up!”
Behind her, Nok gave a surprised cry. Cora glanced around just long enough to see the others trying to wrestle Bonebreak back under control near the front of the ship. Leon was as good as useless with his dislocated shoulder, and Nok and Rolf each weighed about as much as one of Bonebreak’s legs. They needed help, but Cora didn’t dare tear herself away from Lucky.
“Mali!” Cora yelled. “You need to wake up Anya now.”
But one look at Anya’s splayed body, blood caked in her nose, said she wasn’t waking soon. Cora’s mind spun. Anya . . . Bonebreak . . . Nothing seemed to matter as much as this boy bleeding out on the floor.
“Lucky,” she choked. “Please, talk to me.”
A few words garbled up his throat. His body spasmed and suddenly he was breathing again, though blood came up with his gasps for air.
“The journal,” Lucky said in a weak voice. “I need it. Notes inside . . . could help . . .”
The journal? She looked around blankly. That notebook he’d taken from his pocket . . .
She shoved to her feet, searching for it in the chaos. There—under Bonebreak’s foot. Cora darted for it. She had to duck as Bonebreak got a hand free; she slammed her fist into his shin and snatched the journal from under his foot, then scrambled back to Lucky.
“Here. I’ve got it. You’re going to be okay. Just tell me what to do.”
The book felt too small in her hands; surely a few scribbled notes couldn’t save him. Her eyes widened at the mess of his midsection. The skin was torn; gone in some places. Half a rib jutted out, the end broken off.
“The torn-out pages . . . ,” Lucky muttered. “It’s a manual override.”
Manual override?
How was an override going to save his life? She flipped anxiously to the last page and skimmed over handwriting that wasn’t his. There weren’t any descriptions of medical procedures for stopping bleeding, only a diagram of symbols like the ones the Kindred used to open locked cabinets.
“You have to go back.” He coughed. “Dane wrote the notes. The manual override codes open a compartment in the medical room. There are weapons, in case the animals get out of control.”
“Weapons?” she whispered.
“I was only going to use them as a last resort. Put the animals out of their misery . . . if . . . things got bad.” He strained for breath. “I still had hope for the Gauntlet. But now . . .” He winced and shook his head. “There’s kill-dart guns. Powerful enough for an elephant. Powerful enough for a Kindred, I’m sure.”
She sank to the floor, stunned.
What did she care about weapons now, while he was dying? She had hoped the scrawled pages contained information to save him. She could barely even think about the station now, or what weapons would have meant.
He coughed louder.
The journal fell out of her slack hand. It slid away as the ship lurched, but she didn’t lunge for it.
He was going to die.
She collapsed over on top of him, not worried about being too fragile now. Warm blood soaked into her dress.
“Cora!” Leon bellowed. “We need you!”
The others didn’t know about Lucky. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bonebreak by the control panel, twitching as if he still wasn’t used to his own body. He squeezed his fingers into a fist, again and again, until his fingers obeyed his head. Dread sweated down Cora’s face.
She turned back to Lucky.
His lips moved; blood came up, not words, and she pressed a finger to his mouth. “Shh. Don’t try to talk.”
“Go back,” he choked. “You can’t leave the others behind. Use the weapons.”
There was such utter conviction behind his voice. As though he’d crawled back to life—just for this second—because this one thing was so very important.
“Shh . . . ,” she started, but unsure this time. “We can’t go back, Lucky. A few dart guns aren’t going to make a difference. They’ll arrest me just like they did Cassian. The Gauntlet and everything else . . . it’s over. Cassian was right. Not giving up is noble only as long as it doesn’t get us killed. At some point, we have to think logically.”
“Logic?” Lucky said. “No. We’re not Kindred. We don’t give up when it’s something that matters. This is our place. This is our cause.” His fingers clenched onto her as though someone was trying to rip her away. “Go back, Cora.”
She stared in stunned horror. Go back? She thought of that glimpse she’d had of Cassian, screaming in pain as they tortured him. Of Fian, who had turned on her. Even if there really were weapons they could use, how could she possibly go back to that chaos?
She let out a sharp exhale. A tear landed on Lucky’s cheek.
“I can’t,” she pleaded, though she didn’t know anymore who she was trying to convince. Lucky’s eyes were closed. His hand—fingers so weak, like an old man’s—slid down to cradle her hand. “We have to give up.”
He took in a long breath, then breathed out.
And he didn’t inhale again.
“No!” she threw herself back on top of him. “No, you can’t leave me! I can’t handle this, Lucky. I can’t do it . . . I can’t go back there.” She sobb
ed into his bloody chest. It wasn’t true, the things he was saying. At some point, the battle was too great to be fought. Besides, she did have a purpose on Earth. Being with her family was as good a cause as any, wasn’t it?
Another sob shook her. She thought of her dad watching the news on the downstairs television; her mother drinking wine on the porch. She could see it so clearly. There would be framed photographs of her on the walls, a shrine of cards and newspaper articles. They had lost their child; wasn’t that cause enough to go back to them?
Wasn’t it?
His body was still warm. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was just asleep, but the taste of blood reached her mouth and she gagged.
A slow sound started to come from Bonebreak’s mask. It started as a high-pitched note; then it grew louder and louder: “. . . kill you childrens!”
And then he was lunging for her—a shadow out of nowhere, fractured mask eyes and clawing fingers. She screamed and rolled out of his way. His hands were still sluggish, but he was moving rapidly, fury propelling him forward.
“I will kill you!” he hissed. “All of you childrens! I will break your bones!”
He lunged for her again. The inside of the ship was too tight; there was nowhere to go. Lucky’s body. So much blood.
Bonebreak loomed over her. He held up his fist with glee.
Mali lunged forward to help, but the ship pitched sharply with no one at the controls, and she fell back against the wall.
A teddy bear tumbled across Cora’s line of vision. What the . . . ? She felt like she was in a dream; no, a nightmare. It was all wrong. Lucky . . . She couldn’t even look at him. And his words in her ears: This is our place. This is our cause.
The teddy bear tumbled onto something silver. Cora’s heart thumped. The gun! Anya must have had it. She scrambled for it. Bonebreak was hissing behind her, tailing her like a shadow. At last, her fingers curled around the familiar shape. It was smaller than the ones she’d fired with her dad at the NRA rally, but it couldn’t be that complicated. Aim. Squeeze. Fire.