Burn (Pure #3)(126)

“We’re friends. Friends stay.”

Partridge didn’t realize that he’d been waiting for this, but now that he hears it, he’s happy. He grabs Beckley and hugs him. “Thank you,” he says.

“We have to move now. If you don’t go,” Beckley says, “they’ll find you here. You can’t lock yourselves away. They’ll only wait you out if you stay in your father’s chamber.”

Partridge looks at Pressia. He knows that he doesn’t deserve to come with them. He shakes his head. “They’ll just tear us apart out there,” he says. “One way or another…”

“We have to move now,” Beckley urges.

“Come with us,” Pressia says. “We can find a way to get you out of the Dome; then we can find a hiding place for you on the outside.”

Beckley and Lyda help Pressia’s grandfather. They move to the door. Pressia follows. “Come on, Partridge. Bring Iralene. Getting out is her only chance. Let’s stick together.” He can tell that it pains her to say this. He knows what he must seem like to her. He hates himself. He hates both worlds—inside the Dome and out.

Iralene and Partridge walk into the hall, following the others to the elevator, Lyda and Beckley supporting Pressia’s hobbled grandfather.

Then Iralene stops. She looks at the door to the house she designed. It’s still open—just a crack. Light is pouring from it.

She grabs Partridge’s arm, holds it tight. “Remember,” she says, “you still owe me a favor.”

“Iralene,” Partridge says softly.

“You made me a promise,” she says. “Will you stand by it?”

“Please…” he says.

“Are you a man of your word?” she says. He knows what she wants, and he doesn’t want her to say it aloud, but she does. “I built a home for us.”

Pressia holds the elevator door open. “Hurry,” she calls to them, as the others turn and look back.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” Iralene lets go of his arm and heads toward the door filled with golden light. He grips Lyda’s letters.

“Don’t, Partridge,” Pressia says.

Lyda says, “There’s nothing real in there. It’s emptiness.”

“I can get you out of here,” Beckley says pleadingly. “Iralene, tell him to come with us!”

“One minute,” Partridge says to Iralene. She gives a nod. He walks down the hall to Lyda. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the stack of his letters, and hands them to her. “Here. These are yours.”

Lyda takes the stack and holds the letters to her chest. “I can’t stay and you can’t go?” she says to Partridge.

“You never know what will happen. One day…”

“If you come looking for me, you know I’ll be out there…”

“Both of you,” he says. Mother and child. “This is a ship. I think if it goes down, I should go with it.”

He walks back to Iralene, takes her by the hand, gives one final wave. He and Iralene step into the glowing room, into its blinding light—and he closes the door behind them.

*

A group of survivors stands watch over Bradwell’s body as El Capitan and Helmud lead the others. The circle grows tighter and tighter until only ten yards stand between El Capitan and the Special Forces soldiers, Hastings among them. El Capitan gives a shout, and the survivors around him stop. His command travels around the circle, and soon all of the survivors are locked in place. Hastings looks at El Capitan. Has Hastings lost contact with those inside? What’s going on in there?

No one moves. No one speaks. They stand there in the wind, Bradwell’s sheets still spinning in the ashen air.

And then it happens.

A creaking noise, low and deep, like something heard on a massive ship.

There’s a pop, and then a crack shivers up the side of the Dome like a crack through the ice of a frozen lake. It shoots across the surface, sending out fissures.

And then a piece of the Dome shifts, tilts, and then falls into the Dome itself.

*

Our Good Mother walks uphill, protected on all sides by mothers. The cross of the window casing in her chest keeps her posture stiff. She holds her head high. When she sees the splinters run across the white surface of the Dome, she whispers to the baby mouth lodged in her arm, “Let’s go find Daddy, dear one!” And she tightens her grip on her spear. “Let’s go find your papa.”

*

The lights flicker then fade. Arvin waits. He holds his breath, closes his eyes—and when he does, he sees his parents’ faces. He’s followed orders so that he could stay alive. He’s made himself valuable, indispensable. But now, he’s finally free. The generator hums to life. The lights brighten overhead, and he hears the buzzing noise of the laboratory being sealed. He won’t leave until he has a cure.

*

When the lights flit out, the hum of machinery dies inside of each chamber—up and down the halls. It’s deathly silent. Peekins has been working in this one chamber, trying to save a family—four stiff infants, the pale blue tinge fading from their skin. He fumbles in his pocket for a flashlight. He pulls it out and shines it on the babies before him—the Willuxes. One set of eyes flutter. The eyes open. It’s the little girl. Partridge’s mother. Maybe she’ll be the only one to survive.