Soulless (The Immortal Gene Trilogy Book 1) Page 22

  “Hey?”

  “Holy crap!” I spun in my surprise, clutching my chest. “Don’t do that!” I barked as Tristan stepped around the windmill.

  “Sorry.”

  “How long have you been watching?”

  “Long enough.” I turned away, frustrated and marched down the hillside. “Whoa! Whoa, wait up!” He scurried down and caught up with me. As he grabbed my elbow, I spun and shoved him back.

  “What do you want?” My voice shook as much as my knees. I felt weak and vulnerable and hated knowing Tristan was watching me fall apart.

  “He’s going to be okay.” Tristan dropped his hands. “The D400 has left his system which has made him delusional. We can fix it once he has a bit more energy. We’ve already got him on the medication to fight the bacteria. I won’t lie; it wasn’t looking good but the guy is strong. He has this will to survive I haven’t seen in a very long time.” Tristan sat on the grassy moulds and patted the area next to him.

  The overwhelming stress lessened as I walked over and sat down, tucking my knees to my chin. “He’s worried about us being separated,” I whispered.

  Tristan cocked an eyebrow. “That’s awfully romantic.”

  “Believe me, it’s not.” I turned my cheek against my folded arms and looked away. My heart jumped for reasons I didn’t want to explore. Romantic? There was no such thing as romance. There was sex, but no love connected with it. Nothing made the human heart squeeze with uncertainty and delight anymore, all we ever felt was lost and angered. Anger meant survival, if I wanted to survive I had to be angry. “I seem to have tied myself to some dangerous baggage.”

  “If you don’t want to then there’s no one forcing you to stay with him.” Tristan whispered. My heart squeezed and I swallowed hard to knock out the flutter flying around my chest.

  “It’s not that simple. I need him and he needs me. It is some sticky, disgustingly stupid co-dependent mess that I can’t pull myself away from.” Tristan nodded as though he understood and I scoffed and turned myself away. “Forget about it.”

  “Listen, it’s okay. We’ll introduce him to our tea serum and in a couple of days, he should be back to being himself. Hopefully, that rage was out of character for him, right? Matter of fact, when was the last time you had your repression?”

  I licked my lips uncomfortably. I really didn’t want to get into why I didn’t need to take the D400 drug, nor did I want to take a tea serum that may alter my brain function. “I’m fine.”

  “Is something wrong?” I shook my head as Tristan sighed. “Hmm, you’re not much of a talker, huh?”

  My anxiety was quick to flash to rage. With little control, I allowed my tainted experiences to tighten my voice and scowl. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking, okay? Is that too hard to understand? I just want to be left alone!” As I yelled, my body recoiled out of guilt. The anger came out of me in hiccups, erupt and uncontrolled. Mentally, I slapped myself. I may as well have worn a big ‘I’m a raging bitch’ sign to my forehead to save others the time of working it out for themselves. No wonder my own family were quick to trade me off. “No, wait. I’m sorry. This has been a really, really tough couple of months for me.” I buried my head into my hands. “My life is such a mess and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “I’m not mad. I know how you feel; it seems no matter how long we live, we never seem to know what we’re meant to be doing,” Tristan laughed lightly as he glanced down. “Life can be really difficult but it can also be… rewarding. And exciting, and pleasant and fun. People choose to live their lives like tortured souls chained to the ground, but not me. With every new body, I’m grateful and I try to remind myself of the experiences I get to relive over again. Reliving the first time I tasted ice cream, or my first kiss and first love. Especially since I found Sanctuary. I’m happy to be alive.”

  I scoffed and playfully nudged him. “Shut up, as if anyone thinks like that.”

  “Even now, you’ve just proven my point. In this lifetime, I got to meet you. That’s pretty…” He stalled, trying to think of the right word. “…interesting.”

  “Interesting?”

  “Sorry, I meant terrifying.”

  “You’re not making it any better.” I laughed and stretched backward so I laid myself out flat across the grounds. Up ahead, just behind the touch of the streetlights, the stars hovered above our heads like shattered glass. Eternally trapped up there like us down here. “Tristan, I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for helping us out. You could’ve just as easily killed us.”

  Tristan stretched out beside me. “Don’t thank me; we did try to kill you initially. It was lucky we noticed the I.O.S jacket on you. We have an alliance with them.”

  “Mary said that too. What alliance would you have with a corporation like I.O.S?”

  “They want to salvage our humanity by giving us the back control of the D400 drug, which means taking down the corruption of the Elite. It’s a shared desire. The I.O.S sends people whom haven’t snapped under the insanity to us, and we teach them a new way of thinking in hopes of spreading the message to the outer population.”

  I turned over onto my side. “If you want to help others, then why shoot them at your doorstep?”

  “Sanctuary once opened their gates to anyone who passed. But people see kindness as a sign of vulnerability and took advantage. Now we have to be a bit more selective.”

  “The beauty of humanity, right?” I gloomily chuckled.

  “Nah, that’s not humanity. That’s the madness. Humanity is seeing a child out in the cold and offering them your jacket and a hot drink. Desperation and madness drove others to hate,” Tristan let out a soft sigh, “Fear spreads faster than compassion.”

  “I wish I could believe that. Before the Return, people were still cruel toward each other. They would bomb cities, kill innocents; they would torture and murder each other for money and power.”

  “Only a small percentage of people were that cruel, unfortunately that’s all we ever talked about. We’re not perfect but we’re not monsters either. Before reincarnation, we could make a choice in how we treated each other. You could kick your neighbour or help him up. Tell me, if you walked out into the street and you saw someone who needed your help, wouldn’t you help them?”

  He waited for me to say the obvious answer, to tell the lie we all tell each other to make ourselves feel better. But honestly, I had walked over hundreds of people who were knocked down without even blinking. Sometimes I was the one who put them there. If I wasn’t willing to extend my hand to help, then what did that truly say about me? I wasn’t sick. I didn’t have problems with reincarnated memories, nor was I poisoned by the D400 drug. So, what was my excuse? Was I just cruel? Was I truly just an awful person, only looking out for myself?

  Tristan must have seen the sudden dread cross my face as he sat up onto his elbows. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know what I would do,” I said. That was the best answer I could come up with.

  Tristan sighed in what I assumed was disappointment. “Think about it. You know your answer.” He then stood up and returned to town.

  That night, I struggled to sleep. I struggled with my own moral conscience, something I had never struggled with before. If I was truly honest, the only person I cared about was Annie. But did I only care out of selfish interests? She was my sister, but if she wasn’t, how would I treat her? Would I run into her room when she screamed in terror every night? Would I hold her hand as we walked the streets, making sure she wasn’t scared? Even now, with Diesel, did I carry him through the forest because I was worried about him or that I needed him for my own selfish reasons? I turned and buried my head into my pillow.

  What is wrong with me?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:

  “Well, your wounds seem to be healing nicely.” I was on my stomach in the doctor’s office as she examined my thigh. “Just keep up with your antibiotics and don’t do any strenuous exercising like running. Don’t want
you popping the stitches.”

  She reapplied the bandage and I hopped off the table. “Thanks.” Mary waited for me outside the room as I stepped back into my pants and greeted her on my way out.

  “Good news?” she asked. I merely nodded. “What’s wrong? You seem distracted.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Talk?” I perked my brow, amused. “What is with you people and talking about feelings?”

  “It’s important to express yourself.”

  “How I feel has never mattered before, so why now?” Mary licked her lips in her attempt at hiding her frown. I stopped walking and turned to her. “What?”

  “Come with me. I want to show you something.” She took me out into the centre of town where everyone was gathering at a slim, pointed building. Together, as a small herding crowd, they all bunched at the front doors and slowly made their way inside. At the entrance stood a man in a brown leather jacket, nodding and shaking people’s hands in welcome. Once inside, Mary and I took a seat on a long brown bench identical to the eight others lined toward a podium and large cross hanging on wires overhead. I knew immediately where I was and the presence of being within a church sent chills up my back.

  “You’re part of a cult?”

  Mary quickly shushed me, “We’re not a cult. This is a church of God.”

  “Same thing. If you start asking me to sacrifice cats, I’m outta here.” She knocked my arm as the pastor, or whatever he was, took to the podium at the front.

  “Welcome, my brother and sisters, as we rejoice in the warmth of our forgiving Lord.”

  “Oh, geez.” I sunk into my chair even more.

  Mary leaned over. “You don’t believe in a God?”

  I uncaringly shrugged. It wasn’t exactly something I ever thought about. “Why would I?”

  “In times like this, with the plague of reincarnation trapping us to the earth, there must be a reason why? There must be an entity responsible, a power with a plan.”

  “Or it’s some sick joke?” I countered but she frowned unamused. “I haven’t thought too much about the why.”

  The pastor’s voice rose above the rafters as he addressed the crowd. “I’ve come to understand that we have a newcomer among us.” He stepped out onto the small, one-step platform and stopped in front of me. I weaselled down further into my seat and covered my eyes. “A Miss Nadia? Could you come up here?”

  Mary nudged me again and reluctantly I slipped out of my seat. I stood in front of the old pastor as he cupped my hands and gently soothed his thumb over my palms. “As with all of our brothers and sisters, let me look into the creation of your eyes so I could understand your soul.”

  I immediately snapped my hands back, causing an outburst of gasps. “My eyes? I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be shy.” The pastor reached over and soothed my shoulder. He flicked his magnifying glasses down onto the bridge of his nose. “I only want to see what shape your Soul imprint has taken. As it is a tradition here in Sanctuary.”

  “I don’t…” I went to shake my head as he took my chin and turned my face toward his. Immediately, a thousand excuses sprung to mind. I have a condition. It’s a tiny soul imprint. My eyes were scratched clean as a baby.

  Under his breath, the pastor gasped. “Impossible…” I pleaded with him silently not to announce my deformity to the group. His fingers pinched my chin tighter. “You have such an incredible burden,” he whispered before he pulled back to address the others. “An apple tree, Nadia has the soul print of an apple tree.” Behind there was a choir of ah’s and soft claps and I quickly took my seat. As I turned away, he caught my elbow. “We need to chat after.”

  During the service, the pastor checked on me like a pot left on the stove. His constant attention had left an uncomfortable itch under my collar. I turned to Mary, unable to shake his gaze.

  “Hey, where’s the bathroom?” Mary pointed toward the back and I quickly took the chance to scramble out of the chapel. As I stepped out, stretching my back from the very uncomfortable slouching, I spotted Tristan and a few of his friends hanging around the back of a truck. With them, they hauled up a large jar of milk, as well as five sachets of wheat. Tristan was talking to the doctor who handed over a short piece of paper.

  “This is the medication that we need.” She passed the note before tucking her hands back into her pockets. “Without them, he won’t make it through the night. You have to be back as soon as possible.”

  Tristan nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. Thank you, we’ll head out now.”

  The doctor gently touched Tristan’s arm in her thanks before she turned and walked back toward the medical centre. At my approach, one of Tristan’s friends tapped his arm and pointed over to me. Tristan quickly shoved the note into his pocket.

  “Nadia?” he greeted as though distracted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey. I’m surprised you’re not in church with the rest of town.”

  “Yes, as much as I love to hear Father Patrick’s preaches, we have important stuff to do.”

  “Stuff?” I glanced back at the truck. “Like what?”

  “Just an arrangement we have with some people outside of town. We give them fresh produce, they restock our medicine cabinet.”

  I snorted, “I thought you guys were all about ‘home grown’.”

  “There are some things, like penicillin for instance, that’s better than our dirt can grow.”

  “And these medicines, they’re for Diesel, aren’t they?” I asked in a sudden serious tone. Tristan squeezed his lips shut, not wanting to answer. I shuffled onto my other foot. “I heard what the doctor said. Is he okay?”

  “He will be once we get those antibiotics.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  He weakly laughed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s dangerous out there.”

  “All the more reason to bring me.” I clapped him on the shoulder and went to step around him. “Unlike you who has been living a sheltered life, I’ve been surviving out there fighting off cannibalistic freaks and drifters.”

  As I approached the truck’s tray, one of his friends blocked my path. He lifted up his cap to brush back his brown, curly hair. “Whoa! You’re not allowed up here. Are you lost?”

  I squinted up at him. “No, I’m coming with you.”

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” The guy laughed. He glanced at Tristan for confirmation. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “Better question is, who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?” I snapped.

  Tristan pulled on my shoulder and stepped in between me and whoever this asshole was. “Justin, just give us a moment.” Ah! Justin, the asshole.

  Justin gestured toward me. “Tristan, she has a busted leg; we can’t bring her. What if we need to get out of there quickly? She can’t run, she’s a liability.”

  “Then I’ll shoot instead,” I answered back.

  “With what gun?” Justin countered.

  “Justin, cut it out!” Tristan growled. Justin huffed and walked back toward the other two setting up their backpacks as Tristan pulled my shoulder away to talk privately. “Don’t mind him, he has issues with strangers. Even though he’s being a dick about it, he may have a point; these people are not like us.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed with a cock of my hip. “They’re like me. I know how to look after myself.”

  Tristan’s shoulders dropped in his sigh. “No, they’re not like you either. They are… unpredictable and cannot be reasoned with. Shouldn’t you be with Mary anyway?”

  “Listen, the whole reason why you need to go meet with these outsiders is because of me. You can’t talk me out of this. I’m coming.” I clapped him on the shoulder as I climbed onto the back tray. “You can thank me later when I end up saving your ass.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:

  I sat in the tray
of the truck alongside two others as we made our way out of the secluded town. The day had cooled and the trees that loomed overhead kept the sun off my bronzed skin. Forty minutes along the dirt road, Tristan turned off onto smooth concrete, opening up the land to far meadows and plotted farmhouses. I pressed to the side and held my whipping hair back with my hand, enjoying the view of endless fields and overgrown grassy plains. Eventually, the road took us onto a large bridge that went over an old highway and toward the industrial city. I twisted around myself at the familiar colony of towers, slanted in their deterioration and roads crumpled into broken slabs of concrete.

  My body tensed as we entered the outskirt buildings before slowing at a massive crater disrupting the lane. Multiple bombings had crumpled the roads leading in and out of the area. Similar to cornering off a crime scene, the buildings at the front of the metropolitan were wrapped in large banners and yellow hazard tape, instructing others to steer clear.

  The car stopped and the other two boys jumped out of the tray as I scrambled out behind them. Tristan stepped out from the front seat followed by Justin appearing from the passenger side as they both shrugged into their backpacks. I approached as Tristan checked the chamber on his hand held.

  “Hey, what’s going on? Why are we in the city?”

  “This is where the markets are held; it’s a great neutral meeting place,” Tristan explained.

  I glanced around wearily, immediately searching the high corners for security cameras. “I don’t do so well in cities.”

  “It’s okay. This was an old industrial facility but it has been out of business for a long time.” He then proceeded to put on a gasmask and handed a spare over to me. “This place was one of the first areas hit by the nuke wars some centuries ago; there are still some radioactive hot spots we should steer clear of. Not many people know of this place or dare to explore the radioactive ruins.”

  I took the mask with uncertainty. “Not the best choice for a meeting place. Death by radioactive poisoning sounds fun.”