The Aberration of Eden Pruitt, page 6
Eden’s father didn’t back down. He looked at the doctor with an expression every bit as unrelenting as his daughter’s stubbornness. “It’s a good thing I’m a fast healer.”
8
Dad tackled rehab like his asinine plan might be an actual possibility. He did breathing and leg exercises like the fate of the world depended on it. He iced. He took pain meds. He pedaled on the stationary bike, so eager to be upright and out of the wheelchair that Mom and Dr. Norton were in a perpetual state of exasperation.
In an ironic twist of fate, the most bothersome injury came not at the hands of the enemy, but the doctors who saved him. Aggressive but necessary chest compressions that resulted in several broken ribs. Now a burr in her father’s side, for how could he support his weight on crutches or a walker when doing so put pressure on bones in need of healing?
There was such a thing as pushing too hard, Dr. Norton cautioned. Of prolonging the healing process. Her father ignored the warnings. And when Jack created a fake identity for Cassian, Dad objected vehemently. There was no need, he insisted. He would escort Eden to the ball.
Jack created the identity anyway.
For backup, he said.
Just in case.
Other than the sporadic and odd squeak, Subject 003 remained silent. She was wary of Jack. Terrified of Dad. And watchful of everyone else. Meanwhile, Barrett Barr hardly stopped talking. Of all his newfound powers, the photographic memory delighted him the most. He kept consuming and regurgitating large quantities of facts and data nobody else cared about, stopping only long enough to ask the same question he always came back to: When could he contact his family?
“I keep waiting for you to punch him,” Eden said with a hint of amusement.
She was outside in the woods with Cassian in the same clearing they’d used the first time he showed her how to fight. The weather was cooler now as October approached, the leaves starting to change. And they were practicing moves much more advanced.
“He’s like a golden retriever puppy,” Cass said.
They moved through a series of takedowns, wherein he approached from behind as stealthily as possible. Eden executed them easily, if not a little distractedly. They’d been coming out here every day and much to her dismay, there’d been no more kissing. Not since the night of his return.
She could hear him behind her.
Only this time, he didn’t attack.
He set his hand on her waist—the unexpected contact a shock to her torso, making every muscle in her core go tight. His broad palm pressed against her hip. His breath tickled her ear. Eden’s own caught in her throat, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck tingling.
“The power comes from your abdomen,” he said. “So, if I were to do this—”
He shifted.
Almost imperceptibly.
But Eden could feel it before the shift even began. She grabbed his left forearm and with a quick and decisive pivot, threw him over her body and brought her knee to his neck.
He looked up at her, his full lips curved into a slight but satisfied smile, a gleam in his golden eyes.
It never got old.
Impressing Cassian.
Eden did so as often as she could.
She helped him up and they began again.
This time, they ran through an entire series—a back-and-forth dance of blocks and attacks until Eden grabbed his opposite elbow and spun around. They stood face-to-face, so close she could see each of his individual eyelashes.
His attention dipped to her lips, which had—according to Barrett—over a million different nerve endings. The human fingertip contained over three-thousand touch receptors.
Now, with their chests rising and falling in unison, Eden could feel every single one of them.
He leaned slightly forward.
She held her breath.
Waiting.
Yearning.
And then, “As-salamu alaykum.”
Cassian pulled away, his retreat a bucket of icy water against her back.
She grit her teeth and glared at Barrett, who approached with an oblivious grin.
“That’s Arabic for hello,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The last time Dr. Norton went into the city, he’d returned with a small but sufficient wardrobe for each of them. Jane had stared at the gift in the strangest way before stuffing each item into a pillowcase, which she now carried with her wherever she went. “Mr. Pruitt asked if I’d come get you.”
Fetch, like an actual golden retriever.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Eden said.
“Not you. Him.”
Cassian raised his eyebrows. He and Dad didn’t do a lot of conferring. Cassian tolerated her parents with a guarded politeness. Mom tried hard to get past the barrier. Dad didn’t bother. He was too busy with rehab.
Barrett raised his eyebrows back.
Cass met Eden’s eye, like she might know what this was about.
She shrugged.
He pocketed his phone, tucked his gun into his waist belt, and headed toward the cabin, leaving Eden and Barrett alone. Despite her annoyance over Barrett’s timing, her heart was soft for the guy. The novelty of seeing his face on national news had worn off. He tried his best to stay positive, his disposition upbeat, but Eden could tell he missed his family. She knew what that felt like.
She picked up her hoodie and gave it a shake, then pulled it over her head. “You doing okay?”
“Oh, you know.” Barrett shrugged. “Niko sawa.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s Swahili for I’m fine.” Two squirrels scampered after one another in a nearby tree, scrabbling from one limb to the next. He looked up at them, then dug his hands deeper into his pockets and released a heavy sigh. “Jane squeaked twice yesterday. I think she might be on the brink of talking.”
“Her first words might be shut up.”
Barrett smiled good-naturedly. “I’m surprised she’s still here.”
“Surprised?” Eden pulled her long hair free from the hood of her sweatshirt.
“I keep waiting for her to run away. She was going to the first night, you know. I think I convinced her to stay, but I’m not sure she wants to be here.”
Eden raised her eyebrows, wondering where she would go. If Jane left, Jack would lose his mind. He was borderline militant about keeping phones away from Barrett. Adamant that his wife and daughter stayed in Rome. He wanted no cracks in whatever ship they were building. Jane leaving would be a gaping hole.
Barrett scratched the back of his head. “Do you know how many frozen embryos have been created in the twenty-first century?”
“I have no idea,” she said.
“Over twelve million. Want to guess how many of those were implanted?”
“Not really.”
“Less than five million, and only twenty-three percent of those resulted in successful pregnancies. That leaves seven-and-a-half million. Which means that if you crunch the numbers, we had a ninety-one percent chance of never existing. We either would have failed to implant, been donated in the name of scientific research, discarded, or stuck in a weird state of pre-existence in some lab with a bunch of other frozen embryos.”
Eden frowned. “What’s your point, Barrett?”
“My point is that in a strange way, statistically speaking, we sort of owe Karik Volkova our lives.”
Cass found Eden’s father in the basement rehab room, a trip he made often thanks to an elevator that went from the master bedroom to the utility room below. He sat at a machine doing a quad press with his left leg, a walker in the place his wheelchair used to be.
The ball was in less than a week.
“I’ve been talking with the doc,” he said, grimacing as he pushed himself onward. “Obviously I’m not as far along as I’d hoped to be.”
Sweat trickled down his face as he struggled to get through one last rep. He lifted it halfway before the weight came clanking down.
Cass imagined the frustration Eden’s father must be feeling—having to battle against such a small amount of weight. Cass sustained his fair number of injuries over the years. They were always infuriating. How much more infuriating would those injuries have been had Eden’s life been on the line?
Mr. Pruitt sank back against the seat and grabbed the towel resting over his right knee. “He’s told me some things.”
Cassian shifted uncomfortably. There were a number of things Norton could have told Eden’s father—all of them incriminating. Cass braced himself for an interrogation. One that could very well end with a one-way ticket to the exit. But he wouldn’t take it. He would stay for as long as Eden allowed him to.
“You’re a fighter,” Mr. Pruitt said.
“Was a fighter.”
“And a tracker.”
Cass looked away, heat rising up his neck. They were close to it now. Uncomfortably close. The reason they were in this predicament to begin with. Cass had been hired to find a girl and now here they were.
“Ben also said he trusts you.”
Cass’s attention jerked upward.
“And you will be an asset by my daughter’s side.”
The two of them stared at one another, Cassian’s heart thudding uncertainly.
“I won’t be.” Mr. Pruitt cast a dirty look at his walker. “We managed to get a room at The Sapphire. Jack and I will use it to set up surveillance and communicate with you throughout the event.” He mopped his brow with the towel. “I need you to understand something.”
Cass stood straighter, giving the man his full and undivided attention.
“My wife and my daughter are my entire world. I’m putting half of that world in your hands.” Mr. Pruitt’s gaze was locked and unwavering. “I’m counting on you to protect her.”
Cass didn’t look away. He stared back with the same fervency as Eden’s father. “With my life.”
9
“Have you seen Jane?” Barrett asked outside on the back deck.
She ducked further into the closet, behind the hanging coats. She had to be as a quiet mouse. Barrett didn’t use his ears as much as she did; he preferred his mind. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t detect the smallest of sounds.
“I haven’t,” the doctor said as a loud sizzle hissed through the air, and the smell of grilling meat filled the dark space.
Jane stuffed her hand into one of the coat pockets and came back with nothing. She looked down at her collection. One crumpled bill, seven coins, two buttons, a piece of gum, and a tube of Chapstick. Her conscience twinged. She didn’t enjoy stealing from the nice doctor. But steal, she did. At first, she justified it; she didn’t trust niceness. Not when Father had used the trait like a trap whenever he wanted to conduct a particularly nasty test. But Jane had been here for a while now and the doctor’s niceness hadn’t waned. Nor did he force her or even suggest she return to that ominous room in the basement. After twenty-two days, she suspected his niceness wasn’t a trick, but the real thing. Still, she stuffed her hand into the last pocket and pulled out another coin.
She dropped her treasures into the sack and listened to make sure the coast was clear. She listened to Barrett’s heartbeat and the doctor’s heartbeat—both of them outside on the deck. She opened the closet door, tucked the sack beneath her arm, and raced to the bedroom.
She locked the door and dumped the contents from the sack onto the soft bed—her soft bed. There were the brand-new clothes Dr. Norton had given her. Four cans of tuna. A jar of half-eaten peanut butter. Eight ketchup packets she’d found in a kitchen drawer. A map she’d torn from one of the doctor’s books. A broken pencil. A headband. Three toothbrushes. An empty container of floss and its long tangled innards she’d pulled from within. She had no idea what it was until she saw Barrett using it on his teeth. Now there were the two buttons. A Chapstick. And more of the treasure she’d been collecting.
Just in case.
Four crumpled bills and twelve coins.
She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, twisted the lid off the jar of peanut butter, and scooped her finger inside to grab a large dollop. She unfolded the map and studied it while she licked the peanut butter. Two of the cities were circled—Milwaukee and Chicago. This was where the others had gone. For the ball. One city was crossed off with dark, angry lines.
For an entire year, Jane had lived like a street urchin in the city of Minneapolis, creeping through back alleys like a frightened, feral cat. She knew the name of the city because she heard people talk and she could read signs. She hadn’t, however, known what it meant. It turned out Minneapolis wasn’t the world; it was a small dot in the world. The doctor lived near a different big city called Milwaukee. It was three-hundred-forty miles away from Father. Thanks to this map, Jane now knew that when she left, she would travel east, where the distance between her and Father would grow.
Sometimes at night, she woke up thinking about the puppies. How she failed them like she failed Kitty. But then she would shove those memories away, in the deep place where her words hid. Those memories weren’t hers anymore. They belonged to Violet. She was no longer Violet. She was Jane.
She sucked the remaining peanut butter off her finger and picked up the headband. She pressed it against her nose. It smelled like honey and vanilla. It smelled like a mother. Not hers. But a mother all the same. Jane hadn’t smelled her own in over a decade. Even so, she could remember the familiar scent—sesame oil and talcum powder.
Last night, Eden’s mother had fallen asleep on the couch while the others worked in the basement, getting ready to carry out their plans. Jane had tiptoed close, taken the mother’s hand, and pressed it against her cheek. This was a foolish thing to do, for she had woken up and Jane had skittered away.
She hid in this very room and told herself she would leave tomorrow. Just like she did every night. But then morning would come, and something would convince her to stay. The soft bed. The warm showers. The mother. A kitchen full of food. The boy named Barrett, who was every bit as nice as the doctor. She was descending into debauchery. Father would be irate.
In the evening, other things would convince her to leave. Like Jack, who watched her as closely as she watched him. He wanted to run tests. The doctor had told him to give her time. How much time, Jane didn’t know. The father was named Alexander Pruitt. She didn’t like him either. Even though he was different from her own father. Even though she knew he couldn’t hurt her—he couldn’t hurt anyone—no matter how hard he was trying to get stronger. Then there was the young man named Cassian. He could definitely hurt someone. Jane could tell. But he didn’t notice Jane. He didn’t notice anyone but Eden.
Down the hall, the back door slid open. The television turned on. Voices filled the living room. Familiar ones from Concordia Entertainment. All day long, the people inside the television had been talking, remembering, honoring those who had died in an event they were calling The Attack. Jane had never known about The Attack. Over the past twenty-two days, she was discovering a lot of things she’d never known. Now, the familiar voices were talking about The Prosperity Ball, which was where the mother had gone, along with the others. They had gone to fight the bad man.
The back door slid open again.
The scent of grilled meat intensified.
Dr. Norton’s heartbeat joined Barrett’s as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen.
“That’s a lot of famous people in one building,” Barrett said.
And then suddenly, something happened.
A frightening blast of overwhelming noise, so piercing and loud and abrupt, Jane clapped her hands over her ears with a scream and doubled over her legs.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage—angry, violent beats. She kept her hands clamped over her ears, afraid to peel them away even though the blast was gone. It was as if her hearing had lost its filter and all at once, every sound within a ten-mile radius coalesced into a monstrous scream that shattered her eardrums.
Slowly, she straightened, wondering what had just happened and whether it might happen again when a knock sounded on her door.
She squeaked and ducked under a pillow.
The knock came again. “Jane? Are you okay?”
It was Barrett, who had given up on trying to get her real name and resorted to calling her Jane, like everyone else.
“We heard you scream,” he said.
There was a long pause.
Jane’s heart continued to crash.
“The hamburgers are ready and the Prosperity Ball coverage is on. We have to keep our eyes peeled for Mordecai. Maybe we’ll see him in the crowd.”
Her hands slid away from her ears.
The door handle twisted. “Jane?”
Hurriedly, she stuffed her collection of items into the pillowcase. She hugged the bulging sack to her chest and peeked out the door where Barrett was waiting. He shoved his hand through his still-longish hair and cocked his head, like he often did. At least with her.
She should feel safe in this house with the nice doctor and the nice boy, three-hundred-forty miles away from Father. But her heart continued to thud. In the aftermath of that awful noise, an equally awful feeling was growing in her stomach. The same feeling she used to get whenever Father took Kitty.
She followed Barrett into the living room.
She sat on the couch with the sack on her lap and a plate of food on the sack, watching Concordia Entertainment. Barrett knew the name of every person interviewed. Actors and singers and athletes and authors and scientists and politicians. Parading along a length of red carpet while cameras flashed and reporters jostled to get interviews.
For the first time since waking up twenty-two days ago, Jane couldn’t eat.
There was no room for food.
The awful feeling expanding in her belly was too big.
10
