The 5th Wave (The Fifth Wave #1)(98)

“I am human.”

“‘I am human…but.’ Finish it, Evan.” Because I’m finished now, Evan. You were the last one, my only friend in the world, and now you’re gone. I mean, you’re here, whatever you are, but Evan, my Evan, he’s gone.

“Not but, Cassie. And. I am human and I’m not. I’m neither and I’m both. I am Other and I am you.”

I look into his eyes, deep-set and very dark in the shadowy air, and say, “You make me want to puke.”

“How could I tell you the truth when the truth meant you would leave me and leaving me meant you would die?”

“Don’t preach to me about dying, Evan.” Wagging my finger at his face. “I watched my mother die. I watched one of you kill my father. I’ve seen more death in six months than anyone else in human history.”

He pushes my hand down and says through gritted teeth, “And if there had been something you could have done to protect your father, to save your mother, wouldn’t you have done it? If you knew a lie would save Sammy, wouldn’t you lie?”

You bet I would. I would even pretend to trust the enemy to save Sammy. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around Because I’m in love with you. Trying to come up with some other reason he betrayed his species.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. Only one thing matters. A door slammed closed behind Sammy the day he got on that bus, a door with a thousand locks, and I realize sitting in front of me is the guy with the keys.

“You know what’s at Wright-Patterson, don’t you?” I say. “You know exactly what happened to Sam.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t nod yes. Doesn’t shake his head no. What’s he thinking? That it’s one thing to spare a single measly random human but something seriously different to give away the master plan? Is this Evan Walker’s under-the-Buick moment, when you can’t run, can’t hide, and your only option is to turn and face?

“Is he alive?” I ask. I lean forward; the rough tree bark is cutting into my spine.

He hesitates for a half breath, then: “He probably is.”

“Why did they…why did you bring him there?”

“To prepare him.”

“To prepare him for what?”

Waits a full breath this time. Then: “The 5th Wave.”

I close my eyes. For the first time, looking at that beautiful face is too much to endure. God, I’m tired. So frigging tired, I could sleep for a thousand years. If I slept for a thousand years, maybe I’d wake up and the Others would be gone and there’d be happy children frolicking in these woods. I am Other and I am you. What the hell does that mean? I’m too tired to chase the thought.

I open my eyes and force myself to look at him. “You can get us in.”

He’s shaking his head.

“Why not?” I ask. “You’re one of them. You can say you captured me.”

“Wright-Patterson isn’t a prison camp, Cassie.”

“Then what is it?”

“For you?” Leaning toward me; his breath warms my face. “A death trap. You won’t last five seconds. Why do you think I’ve been trying everything I can think of to keep you from going there?”

“Everything? Really? How about telling me the truth? How about something like, ‘Hey, Cass, about this rescue thingy of yours. I’m an alien like the guys who took Sam, so I know what you’re doing is absolutely hopeless’?”

“Would it have made a difference if I had?”

“That isn’t the point.”

“No, the point is your brother is being held at the most important base we—I mean, the Others—have established since the purge began—”

“Since the what? What did you call it? The purge?”

“Or the cleansing.” He can’t meet my eyes. “Sometimes it’s called that.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing? Cleaning up the human mess?”

“That’s not my word for it, and purging or cleansing or whatever you want to call it wasn’t my decision,” he protests. “If it makes you feel any better, I never thought we should—”

“I don’t want to feel better! The hatred I’m feeling at this moment is all I need, Evan. All I need.” Okay, that was honest, but don’t go too far. He’s the guy with the keys. Keep him talking. “Never thought you should do what?”

He takes a long drink from the water flask, offers it to me. I shake my head. “Wright-Patterson isn’t just any base—it’s the base,” he says, weighing each word carefully. “And Vosch isn’t just any commander—he’s the commander, the leader of all field operations and the architect of the cleans—the one who designed the attacks.”

“Vosch murdered seven billion people.” The number sounds weirdly hollow in my ears. After the Arrival, one of Dad’s favorite themes was how advanced the Others must be, how high they must have climbed on the evolutionary ladder to reach the stage of intergalactic travel. And this is their solution to the human “problem”?

“There were some of us who didn’t think annihilation was the answer,” Evan says. “I was one of them, Cassie. My side lost the argument.”