(Please keep reading for the sequel, Life After Dark)
The first thing I notice when I come to again is that the noise is completely gone. Dead silence. My second realization is that I'm lying in a bed that isn't mine.
I'm back at the facility.
Gasping, I open my eyes widely, trying to see in the dark room. It's happening all over again. No, no, no—
Warm hands clasp mine, preventing my struggles. "April, relax. You're safe."
Marcus.
As awareness replaces confusion, I realize I'm in a hospital room. I'm not at the facility. He sits back down in the chair beside my bed, his gaze never leaving mine. He's dressed in a blue-and-gray flannel shirt, buttoned to his collarbone, and dark blue jeans.
The outfit alone stuns me. It's so normal. His face is clean of blood, but it's pretty banged up. Calming down, I unhinge my stiff jaw and whisper, "I hope I look better than you do."
He cracks a smile. It feels like forever ago that we stood in the middle of that dark road and I yelled at him for betraying us. The resentment is still there to remind me that nothing is okay, but I think part of what I felt had to do with my condition. That unhinged rage, the doubts and fears sapping me of my control. It's like someone has pushed the reset button and given me a chance to be myself again. I don't dare think it won't last for long.
I look around at my hospital room; it's small and white-walled, equipped with a few machines to my right. An IV drips clear liquid into my arm. I glance down at the needle, queasy. I've never been good with needles, something I knew better than to share with Sam. One of my few hidden weaknesses.
"You scared us," Marcus says softly. "The doctors couldn't tell what was wrong with you, but you were burning up so badly that first night your body shut itself down. You weren't reacting to anything they gave you. There were times when I thought . . ."
He doesn't finish, but I know what he wants to say. How close I came to death. "The serum. I think it's clashing with whatever is causing me to blank." What does it mean? Will I keep getting sicker until I blank for good, or until this kills me? I'm not sure which is worse.
"How long have I been out?" I ask.
"Two days." He peers out of the wide window on the other side of my room. "It's crazy out there. We're the talk of the nation. Almost all the kids went back home with their parents, but there are plenty of reporters parked out there for you and Willow."
I nod, relieved but mostly sad. So many families won't ever see their sons and daughters again. Camille, Rae, Nate, the girl who attacked Marcus in those first days. Maybe even Carson. Thinking about him is like a sledgehammer to the gut. I've failed him.
"What about the people in the other truck?" I ask to distract myself. "Did they make it?"
He nods. "They're the ones who called the cops for us."
"Good. How is Willow?"
"She's got a broken arm and a concussion, and she had to get a bunch of stitches. But she's doing okay." His lips quirk into a smile. "Willow and Janie don't always get along, but they're unstoppable when they do. Willow's compulsion works on people mesmerized by Janie. They've been terrorizing the town. They got us rooms at a motel a couple of miles away."
"Is she doing okay? I mean, with Alec and Sam . . ."
His smile drops. "She hasn't talked about it yet. I don't want to push her."
My eyes prickle. It comes over me so fast that I don't have time to hide my tears. I look away when the waterworks begin, too ashamed and embarrassed to let Marcus see my grief. Sam doesn't deserve this. To leave me so torn-up inside when I should be celebrating being free of him. But Willow was right. He was the only father I've ever had, and in his own way, I know he cared. He broke the rules for me. Worked secretly on an antidote to save me. Pushed me harder than anyone ever has because he knew what I would have to face to survive.
And most of all, he believed in me. He saw something I'm only now discovering about myself—an underlying current of strength running through my foundation, holding me up when I thought I'd crumble under the weight. I need to see how far it'll take me.
One side of my mattress sinks. I turn to Marcus as he sits next to me on the bed, tensing when he gently swipes his thumb under my eyes. He wraps his other hand around mine and squeezes. His touch is as potent as ever, and I can't stop the shiver that races down my spine.
He doesn't say anything about my grief. It makes sense. Small words of sympathy don't suit someone as action-driven as Marcus. Even if his actions lately leave a lot to be desired.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I haven't left the hospital except to give my statement down at the police department."
"You've been here this whole time?"
"Yeah. Turns out the world isn't as exciting as I thought it would be."
"A hospital is the least exciting place I can think of," I retort.
His fingers thread through mine. "It's where you are."
There it is again. That spark of excitement I have no business feeling. It doesn't help that those are also the most blush-inducing words anyone's said to me. Maybe he's not as bad with words as I thought. I frown at our entwined hands before pulling mine away.
"It seems like Sam had a contingency plan in place in case I ever got out of the facility," Marcus says, acting like he didn't notice.
"What kind of a plan?" I ask.
"The cops wouldn't let me go because they had no idea who I was or what to do with me." Marcus laughs softly. "Then your mom showed up with a guy posing as my dad."
"My mom?" I ask in a high voice.
"Yeah. Maggie Parker. She told the cops I'd been living with my dad all these years after they split up. I thought they were a couple of nut jobs until he gave me his name. Frankie."
"Your friend's name," I say, and immediately wish I hadn't. Frankie was never his friend. He didn't exist, and I'd bet this Frankie isn't real either. Sam knew the only way to get Marcus to buy their story was create a link to someone he once thought he trusted.
"Where's my—where's Maggie now?"
He looks at me intently. "She disappeared with the Frankie guy yesterday morning. Haven't seen her since."
"Oh." I let out a weak laugh. "I guess their work is done. No point in goodbyes, huh?"
"I'm sorry."
I sigh weakly and shake my head. I kind of expected her to walk away without a word. She was never there for me anyway.
"So . . . the cops think we're siblings?"
"It was the only way they'd let me stay by your side." He smiles wickedly. "We should page the nurse and make out as she walks in."
I almost laugh, but I catch myself. I don't understand how I can be so wary of him, but at the same time want to melt every time he looks at me with those dark, assessing eyes of his. It has to be the flannel shirt. He looks ridiculously, distractingly good in it.
"Why didn't you save the kids at the facility?" I ask, dreading the answer.
Marcus walks over to the window and slips his hands into his pockets as he stares at the streets below. "You asked before about my past," he says. "Do you still want to know?"
"Yes," I say without missing a beat.
He nods once. "I didn't get my ability until I was ten, which was pretty late compared to the others. And when I did, I couldn't figure out how to get it to work. Now, I have a better sense of it—this telekinetic energy I thought was super-strength. Turns out it's all mental."
I remember how he killed Eli, and all those other times he used his ability. Punching Rudolph, breaking the wall, wrecking the gym. He must have been so wrapped up in his rage he didn't see the truth. I think his heavy reliance on his fists might've blinded him, too.
"I was around people who were good with their abilities, and it made me feel like I'd been left in the dust. Director Blaine offered me the chance to be special, so of course, I took it. I did everything he asked me to do. I believed him when he told me that stopping—killing—my sick friends was for some greater good."
He leans against the window ledge, smiling bitterly. "He used to take me and Eli out sometimes. Drive us up to Philly or somewhere with a lot of people. Then he'd give us a speech about how it was our duty to protect them. From us."
I imagine Blaine driving around two young teenage boys, indoctrinating them and making them hate what they are. Marcus never stood a chance with Blaine for a father figure.
"He ordered us to kill everyone in the facility if there was ever a Blank," he continues. "Said we had to or we'd be responsible for the death of every human being out there."
"How?"
"I don't know. But he made it sound bad. I think blanking is contagious. It'll get into the general population and turn everyone into mindless freaks."
"Not mindless," I murmur, thinking of what I went through. "Or random. Weasel said that when he controls Blanks, all they feel is obedience. Meaning someone is pulling the strings. And maybe this person—or people—they're the ones we have to worry about."
Marcus gives me a strange look. "You think so?"
"I don't know. It's the only thing that makes sense." I shudder and shake my head to clear it of such thoughts. I'm too tired to embroil myself in more mystery and adventure. "You haven't finished your story."
He bends his head low and pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he's exhausted all of a sudden. "You know what Director Blaine wanted us to do. Make sure there were no survivors. I was stronger than Eli in every way, but I couldn't do it in the end."
"Why not?"
"Frankie changed me." He lifts his gaze to mine. "You changed me. Sam, too. I've had time to think the past couple of days. He was a sadistic bastard, but if he hadn't made me forget Blaine's orders, I would've walked into that facility with only one thing on my mind."
"You knew what Eli was planning to do," I counter. "You kept that from us, and now those kids are dead."
"I thought I stopped him. Eli's always been more of a follower than a leader, so I believed him when he said he wouldn't do anything. I trusted him." His mouth twists with suppressed anger. "Janie told me yesterday what he did to Willow. Is it true?"
"You mean that he's been stalking her for months? Or that he smacked her around because she wouldn't let him touch her again?"
Marcus sinks into his chair. He rests his elbows on the edge of the bed and cradles his face in his hands, letting out a deep groan. "I can't believe I asked her to forgive me."
I wanted to see remorse, but his pain doesn't make me feel better. "Like it or not, she forgives you."
"I don't deserve her forgiveness. Or yours."
I can't help myself. I reach out and lay my hand on his head, letting my fingers sink into his soft hair. "I shouldn't have called you a bad guy." I didn't say it in so many words, but I might as well have. "Because you aren't."
He looks up, surprised. "I'm no hero either."
"For now."
The deep groove between his eyebrows disappears and a vulnerable look softens his harsh features, one that I haven't seen since he got his memories back. I'm glad he gets what I mean. It's not the end of the road to redemption for him. Blaine might have shaped his past, but the future is in his hands if he wants to do something with it.
There's a sharp knock on the door that pulls us both out of the tender moment. "What?" Marcus snaps, impatience overtaking him.
I allow a smile. He has the potential to become a hero someday, but that doesn't mean he'll turn into a gentle-spirited guy anytime soon.
His scowl fades when Willow enters, Janie and Adam on her heels. Adam has on a cap pulled low over his eyes. They all wear nondescript clothing that makes them look like normal, non-threatening teenagers. "Oh, good, you're still alive," Janie says in a tone so dry I don't buy her sincerity. "I was worried we'd find this room empty."
"Janie," Willow says, exasperated. "Be nice."
Willow telling someone else to be nice to me? I hope that's a sign that she doesn't hate my guts anymore. As though reading my mind, she gives me a small smile. There's pain in that smile, a reminder of what we've lost, and maybe that's why she doesn't hate me anymore. Maybe Sam's death makes it hard to hold on to old grudges—especially ones that he caused.
Janie rolls her eyes. "I am being nice. It's not my fault you can't tell the difference."
Marcus is rooted in place, stiff-shouldered. "Willow, I—"
"Don't." She stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I know what you're going to say, but you don't have to. I'm just glad to have you back."
Marcus gives her a brusque nod. I doubt he's ready to forgive himself, but I think having her forgive him goes a long way toward easing his mind.
"How are you feeling?" Adam asks me.
Something about that question feels like acceptance. Like I'm part of the circle of people he cares about now. "Better. I think."
"Good enough," Janie says. She nods toward the clock on the wall that reads 8:20 p.m. "We're busting you out at midnight."
"You're what?"
"It's not as dramatic as Janie is putting it," Willow interjects. "We've been talking about how the five of us are on our own now, and how it won't be long before Gardiner comes after us. We were thinking of disappearing before they do."
I give myself a moment to digest that. "I'm not sure it's that simple."
"Why not?" Janie asks with a hint of her characteristic scorn.
"What about the kids who went home with their families? Won't Gardiner target them? And what about me? I'm not normal. I might still blank and then you'll have to kill me."
"That won't happen," Marcus says, scowling again.
"Either way, simply disappearing isn't an option."
Willow tilts her head, her expression thoughtful. "What are you suggesting?"
"We protect them." I don't tell them I'm including Carson in the list of people I want to save. Finding him is my personal mission. "We make sure they're not taken again—or worse. And we get to the bottom of all this by finding the people who made us this way."
I look around at my fellow survivors. "I know I'm asking for a lot. After everything you've been through, I don't blame you for wanting to walk away. But I can't do that." Sorry, Sam. Survival isn't enough anymore. "I want to face what's ahead instead of just enduring it."
Some contemplative quiet falls over the room. Willow and Adam exchange looks. Janie leans against a wall and inspects her fingernails.
"I'm in," Marcus says, echoing the words I said to him the morning after our first kiss. A flush of warmth sweeps through me at the memory.
"Me, too," Willow says.
I take Adam's nod to mean assent. We turn to Janie, who says, "Am I the only one who thinks it's crazy we're taking instructions from a nobody?"
"She's not forcing you into anything," Willow replies. "The choice is still yours."
She scoffs. "Right. She comes out of nowhere and everyone is obsessed with her all of a sudden. She has Marcus wrapped around her finger, you've become besties with her, and even Adam can't seem to say no to her. I'm just supposed to accept that?"
It's easier to understand her anger knowing where it's coming from. Her hostility has never been about Marcus. I wouldn't be surprised if she's been clinging to him lately just to get under my skin. No, the reason she dislikes me runs deeper than that. This is a girl, according to Willow, who was subjected to willful neglect. She grew into a beautiful, capable young woman with the power to command interest, but maybe some part of her is still insecure and afraid.
Maybe she's afraid that she'll go back to being unwanted.
"What do you want, Janie?" I ask earnestly, giving her my undivided attention.
Her eyes widen just a fraction. Surprise. I guess she wasn't expecting anyone to consider her side. She glances around, notices that everyone's watching her, and tosses up her arms. "Whatever," she says. "Forget I ever said anything. All hail our new ruler, Queen Know-It-All."
She twirls in a huff and marches out of the room. Adam shrugs and goes after her, and I can't help worrying for his sake. I'd hate for him to get caught in the crossfire.
"Something tells me this is far from over," I muse out loud.
Willow shakes her head, biting back a smile. "Don't mind her. She'll come around. I'm going to sneak into the cafeteria and pig out on junk food before my nurse finds the kale I've been hiding under my pillow. You want anything, April?"
"I'll eat later. Thanks."
Marcus looks down at me and gives me a scrutinizing look. "I'll go with Willow and give you a chance to get some rest. You look like you could use it."
When he turns to leave, my hand whips out of its own volition, wrapping around his wrist. He looks down at it and lifts his eyebrows.
"Stay," I whisper. "Please."
"I'll ask Janie to keep the nurses away while you rest," Willow says and slips through the door before Marcus can ask her to wait.
He sits down and smiles, not taking his eyes off mine. I love his smile, so warm and grateful that it soothes the cold ache deep inside me. I love that my gesture has bridged the gap between us and transformed his mood. Sam must have known that Marcus and I, if we ever crossed paths, would have this effect on each other. My caution tempers his strong will, and his tenacity is my source of strength. And sitting here with him, listening to the soft beeping of the machine, I've never felt closer to anyone.
"I miss hearing you call me Rose," I murmur.
"I thought you hated it."
"Not anymore." I pause. "Hey, Marcus?"
"Yeah, Rose?"
I close my eyes, settling into a comfortable position. "Tell me more stories about your childhood. About you and the people you grew up with."
He does. He starts at the beginning, in a time of innocence and friendship long before abilities and Blaine. And as he speaks with that deep, soothing voice of his, I lose myself in his words, letting them ease worry over our future and offer me comfort in the quiet night.