Sparks Rise

I move toward the bed for the first time, keeping my eyes on Sam’s face. Someone cared enough to clean the grime and mud off it, but even clean, there are shadows. Her cheeks are sunken, and with her eyes shut, I can’t help thinking, She looks like she’s already gone. I run a knuckle along the curve of her nose, the way Dad used to do to Mom and, before I can question it, I lean over to kiss her cheek. A part of me feels like it’ll be the greatest act of rebellion I ever do. Because I let myself feel how soft her skin is, I imagine taking her face between my hands, and it feels like I’ve set off a firework inside of my chest. No wonder they turn us hollow. I’ve always thought the danger in experiencing these emotions lay solely in being caught, but living them makes me danger itself. There is nothing I will not do to get her out of here.

I kneel down near her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, studying the familiar shape of it. It makes me think of all the summers in the tree fort, when the wet heat hung low from the sky and we didn’t have the energy to do anything other than just lay under the canopy. I can’t bring myself to sing. It hurts too damn bad. So I hum, low enough that I think it’ll be for her ears only. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...

Sam shifts suddenly, her head rolling toward mine. I have the vague sense that the nurses have stopped talking and they are staring, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t have anything to be embarrassed or ashamed about. I keep humming.

“Lucas...?” Her voice is a faint rasp. It sounds like some part of her is still asleep, but I hear the tinge of annoyance. “Hate...that song.”

A faint laugh bubbles up inside of me as I reach down and take her hand. She gives a light squeeze back. “I know, Sammy. But how else was I supposed to get your attention?”

Someone gasps at the sound of her voice. When I look up, I see that Kore has pressed both hands to her mouth.

“Sparks...”

Her voice draws me back to her, the way it always does. “The sparklers from the Fourth of July? You remember those? I bet that would have gotten your attention.”

She gives a tight nod, her jaw clenched. “Hurts...Lucas...”

“I know, I know—I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Get you real medicine. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Mia...medicine...”

“No, medicine, then Mia. You have to get back on your feet first.”

“Mia, medicine,” she says, with a bit more heat this time. Her eyes flutter open against the bright lights. I recognize the look she gives me.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say. Looking up again, I see Dunn rubbing the top of his head, a far-off expression on his face. He turns to Kore, who’s been staring at our linked hands the whole time. I don’t breathe easy again until, finally, she nods.

“All right...okay,” Dunn says, suddenly pale at the abstract idea becoming actual reality. My own heart is speeding out of control, and I have to look at Sam again to calm down.

Don’t do anything stupid, her expression says.

Too late.

FIVE

SAM

I HEAR the song like the birds high up in the branches of our tree in Greenwood. I turn toward the sound, trying to imagine it’s a cool blanket, one that’ll put out the simmering heat trapped inside my head and leg. I’m not surprised, not in the least, when I open my eyes and see Lucas.

Just...muddled.

I think I’m in the Infirmary. I know these are nurses, I recognize their calm, kind voices, but it doesn’t—it doesn’t make sense, the things he’s saying. They’re all talking so fast. Medicine, Mia, sparks, out...I try to watch his lips move, read the expression on his face, but he’s wearing that mask again. The Lucas I know disappears behind it as I lose my grip on his hand and he rises to his feet, shucking off his crimson vest, his uniform. The female nurse hands him a pair of gray scrubs as the man starts unhooking the machines. Fever and pain have turned my vision glassy at the edges, and the things hanging near me, things that have only been blurs up until now, are set on my stomach. I have to strain my ears, fight the black water rushing over me, to stay at the surface and listen to their low conversation.

“—bring one of the crates over—”

“—be fast—”

Footsteps, doors opening, doors shutting, doors opening, problems—

“—too small, can’t do both of you—”

Lucas sounds the strongest, the calmest. “Then I need a PSF uniform. I’ll pose as one of the escorts. It might even be easier that way.”

“They don’t have those just laying around!”

“I can get one,” Lucas says. “Do you have any zip ties? I’ll need one of you to lock an office after I’m done...”

They go away long enough that I drift back down into the haze of pain and don’t surface again until I feel hands on me.

“No, this isn’t—stop...” I try to get my lips around the words but they come out sounding slurred, blending together. When I open my eyes again, I see a black uniform, red Psi stitched over the heart, and try to twist away.

“It’s me.” It’s Lucas above me, blocking out the lights overhead. I can’t see his face. I want to see his face. “You’re okay, Sammy.”

He eases his arms under my shoulders and legs. He’s so warm that I forget. I can’t think of what this means until he says, quietly, “We’re getting out.”