Light
Page 72
“Don’t, Sam,” she said.
“You think you can read my mind, don’t you?”
“You don’t need redemption,” she said.
“So what do I need?” he asked, trying to make a joke of it.
“One more win,” she said.
“One more win.” He hung his head. “I’ve had more than my share, haven’t I? I’ve been way luckier than I should have been. I mean, how many times should I have died? I can’t even count them all.”
“Don’t do this, Sam.”
“What was I doing it for? Just so I would survive?” He shrugged. “Mostly, huh? But also sometimes so other people would live. Not meaning to make it sound all self-sacrificing or whatever.”
“Yes. You also kept a lot of other people alive. Yes. So enough, all right? You promised me, remember? You promised me you’d do whatever it took to stay alive.”
He sighed. “Here’s the thing, Astrid. It’s like . . . like a math problem or something, you know? Like if you’re doing an equation or whatever, and there’s an answer, and there’s only one answer, and so you’re stuck with that, aren’t you?”
“This isn’t math. Besides, you’re a math ignoramus. Remember?” She was getting angry because the alternative to feeling angry was to feel desperate.
“I am a math ignoramus, aren’t I?” He smiled as if at a distant memory. Or at something that would never matter again. “But I’ve won a lot of battles. I’ve gone in a lot of times and I’ve figured out the winning move. And that’s worked pretty well so far, right? Well, the problem is that I see the winning move here. I see it just as clear as your very perfect nose.”
“It’s not a winning move if you end up dead.”
“Ah, it hasn’t been before, no. But I keep running the equation, Astrid. And each time I see that maybe we can beat the gaiaphage. But not if she has my power. That’s the trick here. Would that be irony?”
“No, damn it, that would not be irony, Sam. That would be throwing your life away. That would be suicide.”
“I know you’re kind of over the religion thing, but what he did”—he nodded toward the cross—“that was still a big thing to do, wasn’t it? Was that suicide?”
“Really?” she asked with acid sarcasm. “You’re Jesus now?”
He laughed softly.
“You want to know the truth, Sam?” She pulled his face to her. “No, it wasn’t suicide when Jesus did it. It was fake. If he really was the son of God, then he was risking nothing and he knew it. He knew he had a couple of bad hours but then it was going to be all over and he’d pop back into heaven and have a really amazing story to tell all his friends.”
“He has friends?”
She would not be distracted with jokes. “You? If you die you’re dead. We’ve seen dead now, Sam, we’ve seen a lot of it, and it’s ugly and permanent.”
He turned to her and she saw the tortured look on his face. “That light, Astrid? That light I shoot out of my hands? It’s like it’s mine. It’s like I invented it. Or at least I own it. And that light killed Brianna. And it’s going to kill a bunch of other kids. You know it and I know it.” He ran a hand back through his hair, slowly, like it mattered that he felt each hair.
“No,” she said. “They’re going to die because Pete won’t talk to me.”
There was a long silence after that.
“I wondered if you would try that,” he said at last.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, brushing it off. “Nothing. I was talking to air.”
Now Sam was mad. “You should have talked to me about it first. What if he had done it? What if Little Pete had taken over your body and your mind?”
“He didn’t, so—”
“What do you think happens if he does it? Whoever does it ends up like her, like Gaia, except that Gaia was just a baby and didn’t even know. What do you think happens if Little Pete does this? What do you think happened to that baby girl when the gaiaphage—”
“We don’t know if it would be like that.”
“You don’t know it wouldn’t,” Sam snapped. “You’re a hypocrite, you know. You tell me to keep myself alive. Well, for what? So I can know that you gave your life instead?”
His words brought no answer. A silence fell between them. A rat ran by. It didn’t scare either of them. In fact it made their mouths water just a bit. Both had eaten rat and been glad for the chance to do it. The bad old days of the FAYZ, back before Albert took over.
“Like these are the good times,” Sam said without explanation. But Astrid knew what he was thinking.
“Don’t go out in a blaze of glory, Sam.”
“Don’t nail yourself to a cross,” he said.
“Listen to us,” Astrid said, and laughed.
He shook his head. “I lost Brianna, Astrid. And she wasn’t the first.”
“Who made you responsible?” He didn’t answer, so she said it. “I did. Didn’t I?”
“Astrid . . .”
“I did,” she said more definitely, accepting the truth of it. “I pushed you to lead. I made it your business. I used you to protect my little brother, and then in the end I was the one who sacrificed him. Now I’m trying to make good on all that. I’m trying for redemption, too, Sam, and instead there you go, once more unto the breach, Sam to the rescue even if he dies doing it.”
“You think you can read my mind, don’t you?”
“You don’t need redemption,” she said.
“So what do I need?” he asked, trying to make a joke of it.
“One more win,” she said.
“One more win.” He hung his head. “I’ve had more than my share, haven’t I? I’ve been way luckier than I should have been. I mean, how many times should I have died? I can’t even count them all.”
“Don’t do this, Sam.”
“What was I doing it for? Just so I would survive?” He shrugged. “Mostly, huh? But also sometimes so other people would live. Not meaning to make it sound all self-sacrificing or whatever.”
“Yes. You also kept a lot of other people alive. Yes. So enough, all right? You promised me, remember? You promised me you’d do whatever it took to stay alive.”
He sighed. “Here’s the thing, Astrid. It’s like . . . like a math problem or something, you know? Like if you’re doing an equation or whatever, and there’s an answer, and there’s only one answer, and so you’re stuck with that, aren’t you?”
“This isn’t math. Besides, you’re a math ignoramus. Remember?” She was getting angry because the alternative to feeling angry was to feel desperate.
“I am a math ignoramus, aren’t I?” He smiled as if at a distant memory. Or at something that would never matter again. “But I’ve won a lot of battles. I’ve gone in a lot of times and I’ve figured out the winning move. And that’s worked pretty well so far, right? Well, the problem is that I see the winning move here. I see it just as clear as your very perfect nose.”
“It’s not a winning move if you end up dead.”
“Ah, it hasn’t been before, no. But I keep running the equation, Astrid. And each time I see that maybe we can beat the gaiaphage. But not if she has my power. That’s the trick here. Would that be irony?”
“No, damn it, that would not be irony, Sam. That would be throwing your life away. That would be suicide.”
“I know you’re kind of over the religion thing, but what he did”—he nodded toward the cross—“that was still a big thing to do, wasn’t it? Was that suicide?”
“Really?” she asked with acid sarcasm. “You’re Jesus now?”
He laughed softly.
“You want to know the truth, Sam?” She pulled his face to her. “No, it wasn’t suicide when Jesus did it. It was fake. If he really was the son of God, then he was risking nothing and he knew it. He knew he had a couple of bad hours but then it was going to be all over and he’d pop back into heaven and have a really amazing story to tell all his friends.”
“He has friends?”
She would not be distracted with jokes. “You? If you die you’re dead. We’ve seen dead now, Sam, we’ve seen a lot of it, and it’s ugly and permanent.”
He turned to her and she saw the tortured look on his face. “That light, Astrid? That light I shoot out of my hands? It’s like it’s mine. It’s like I invented it. Or at least I own it. And that light killed Brianna. And it’s going to kill a bunch of other kids. You know it and I know it.” He ran a hand back through his hair, slowly, like it mattered that he felt each hair.
“No,” she said. “They’re going to die because Pete won’t talk to me.”
There was a long silence after that.
“I wondered if you would try that,” he said at last.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, brushing it off. “Nothing. I was talking to air.”
Now Sam was mad. “You should have talked to me about it first. What if he had done it? What if Little Pete had taken over your body and your mind?”
“He didn’t, so—”
“What do you think happens if he does it? Whoever does it ends up like her, like Gaia, except that Gaia was just a baby and didn’t even know. What do you think happens if Little Pete does this? What do you think happened to that baby girl when the gaiaphage—”
“We don’t know if it would be like that.”
“You don’t know it wouldn’t,” Sam snapped. “You’re a hypocrite, you know. You tell me to keep myself alive. Well, for what? So I can know that you gave your life instead?”
His words brought no answer. A silence fell between them. A rat ran by. It didn’t scare either of them. In fact it made their mouths water just a bit. Both had eaten rat and been glad for the chance to do it. The bad old days of the FAYZ, back before Albert took over.
“Like these are the good times,” Sam said without explanation. But Astrid knew what he was thinking.
“Don’t go out in a blaze of glory, Sam.”
“Don’t nail yourself to a cross,” he said.
“Listen to us,” Astrid said, and laughed.
He shook his head. “I lost Brianna, Astrid. And she wasn’t the first.”
“Who made you responsible?” He didn’t answer, so she said it. “I did. Didn’t I?”
“Astrid . . .”
“I did,” she said more definitely, accepting the truth of it. “I pushed you to lead. I made it your business. I used you to protect my little brother, and then in the end I was the one who sacrificed him. Now I’m trying to make good on all that. I’m trying for redemption, too, Sam, and instead there you go, once more unto the breach, Sam to the rescue even if he dies doing it.”
