Burn (Pure #3)(27)

Bradwell’s wings arch and broaden. “Some people do what’s right.”

“Research is research. How Willux chose to use it is his own sin. Not mine.”

El Capitan recognizes the rationalization. He’s tried it out himself. Sin is sin—individual and collective. His life is full of it.

Bradwell walks up to Kelly. “You knew how he’d use it.”

Kelly raises his hand in the air and snaps his fingers. The boars tense. Their heads turn, heavy tusks and all, almost in perfect unison. “How about you take a few steps back?”

Bradwell looks at the boars, their eyes all trained on Kelly’s hand. Bradwell walks toward the barn door, looking out at the sky.

El Capitan steels himself. “Why don’t you just tell us what you want?”

“I probably want what you want.”

“What’s that?”

“To be left alone.”

“But Willux saved you,” Bradwell says, “and you’ve been playing nice with him.”

“He’s dead,” Pressia says. “And Partridge is in charge now. Everything’s about to change.”

“You have more faith in human nature than I do,” Kelly says.

“Well, we don’t want to be left alone,” Bradwell says. “We want the truth to come out. We want justice.”

Pressia shakes her head ever so slightly. It seems for a moment that’s the only contradicting she’ll do, but then it’s as if she can’t stop herself. She says, “No. We want the vial that belonged to my mother and the formula that we found. And we want to bring them back—to save lives.”

Bradwell looks at Pressia. For a second, El Capitan thinks Bradwell’s going to break through all of the anger and resentment, walk over to her, and kiss her. But he says nothing. He has always simply wanted the truth to be known—to fulfill his parents’ mission. Willux arranged for the death of Bradwell’s parents before the Detonations and forced Arthur Walrond to end his own life—Walrond, a family friend who loved Bradwell. All three of them, gone. Pressia’s mother, dead.

El Capitan says, “I wouldn’t mind a little old-fashioned revenge. I don’t think I’m alone.”

This gets Kelly’s attention. “I gave Willux what he wanted, but I’ve been working on another agent as well, not unlike the thorned vines—a living but nearly undetectable bacterium that can eat the radiation-resistant material of the Dome.”

“How does it work?” El Capitan asks.

“It acts incredibly quickly.” He fits his hands in his pockets.

“Are you saying that you have something that can bring down the Dome?” El Capitan says. His heart starts hammering in his chest.

“Bring down the Dome?” Helmud repeats for clarity.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Kelly says.

“That’s not what we want at all,” Pressia says. “We need the Dome. If we get the vial back and the formula, we can get them to Partridge. He’ll find the right person on the inside who’ll help us. We can reverse fusings—with no side effects. We can make everyone equal again.”

“Including you. Finally you’ll be able to free yourself of the doll head,” Bradwell says to Pressia, “so you can be a Pure. What’s more selfish? Your desire to make yourself whole or revenge?”

“That’s not fair,” Pressia says. “I want Wilda and the other children to survive. I want to save people.”

“But admit it,” Bradwell says. “You’ll save yourself in the process.”

El Capitan grabs his head with two hands. He feels dizzy. He says, “We can bring down the Dome, Pressia. This is why I survived. This is my mission! Jesus! Once and for all, we can end this.”

“That’s no ending. That’s just more destruction!” Pressia’s eyes are angry and yet shining with tears. She looks at the barn’s wide floorboards. “Now that Partridge is in charge, we can make a difference. We can cure people of their fusings.” She turns to El Capitan and Helmud. “I think there could come a time when you two could be your own people again.”

El Capitan hasn’t ever thought this was possible. Could he and Helmud be made Pure? Could they be taken apart and made whole? No, he thinks. No—it’s not possible. The idea terrifies him. It’s all he’s ever really wanted, and yet he refuses to believe it.

Pressia says to Bradwell, “You could have those wings you hate so much taken from you.” Bradwell opens his mouth to fire back at her, but she raises her hand. “Look, you don’t have to want it for yourself. But think of other people out there. Don’t answer for them. Let them have a chance to answer for themselves.”

“Pressia,” Bradwell whispers, but he doesn’t say any more than that. It’s a soft whisper, more like he’s pleading with her—for what?

“She has a point,” Kelly says. “The people in the Dome have survivors’ guilt. They hate all who survived on the outside because they hate themselves. But if they have a new role and paternalistically save you all, well, they’ll be able to redeem themselves and feel like heroes.”

“And maybe the survivors can forgive them because the Pures are finally doing the right thing. See?” Pressia says to Bradwell. “It could work.”