False Hearts (False Hearts #1)(84)

Though she will owe me the truth. All of it.

Afterward, I still feel woozy. My tooth doesn’t feel any different. But it’s there. Third molar from the back on the left-hand side of my mouth. I keep thinking the trigger word, but Kim’s given me some tips to try and push it from my mind unless I need it. She recommends chewing with the other side of my mouth, just in case. And if it breaks by accident, Kim says it won’t harm me. I have to go back and get another one. If I can.

By the door, she pauses, and then gives us both kisses on the cheek. “Safe travels. I’m trusting you two to get the bastard, one way or another. And I know you will.” We walk out of the door. I look at her and Kim smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Those are dark with remembered grief and anger.

“Taema,” she says. “I still want that drink and chat when this is all over and done with.”

“Yes.” I wonder if I’ll bring my sister. If I’ll be able to. If I’ll want to.





TWENTY-FOUR

TILA

The trial’s going to be soon. My lawyer said so today when he came to visit. He didn’t give me any false hope, so I guess that’s something. It’s better than him saying I actually have a chance of staying unfrozen for longer than a week.

I’ve had this notebook open in my lap for hours, just staring at it. I debated continuing the story, but I figured I should write at least a little about what it feels like to know that I’m about to die.

Well, go into stasis. It’s basically the same thing.

I’m not afraid of the actual trial. I just have to stand there and stare straight ahead. I can pretend I’m somewhere else. They’re still not letting the media in on it, so I won’t be livestreamed into almost every home and head in San Francisco. I guess that’s something. I’ll still be recorded. At some point, they’ll let it out. The whole world will see me, a murderess in a city that prides itself on murder being a thing of the past. Never mind that murder happens in this city all the time, just quiet and unseen. The Zealots. The Ratel. The Ratel’s victims. So many deaths.

I’m not afraid of the trial. I’m afraid of what happens after.

I keep looking at my hands. All the whorls and wrinkles in them. The almost-invisible bump of the VeriChip, just to the right of the vein under the skin of my wrist, like blue lightning. I have a mole in the crook of my elbow. Taema has one there, too. I keep looking at these little details that make me Tila because I realize that soon, they’ll all be frozen in time. The blood won’t pump through my veins anymore—it’ll be all congealed and disgusting. My fingers will lie still. My skin will turn gray. And then, if the power of that wing fails and defrosts us—a few days after they freeze me, a few years, it’s all the same—they’ll burn up the dead corpse into nothing. My bones, my skin, my brain, everything will be gone. I’ll just be dust.

Right now there are two of us, but soon there’ll only be one. Taema will probably be better off without me, but I can’t help thinking she’ll also be all alone.

*

The supply ship came for its scheduled drop and we made our way to where it would land. Taema and I watched it fly overhead. It cut through the air so smoothly, a bird diving underwater to catch a fish. We went to watch it all happen, like so many times before.

But this time was different.

Dad oversaw everything, ordering men where to program the droids to put the boxes coming off of the ship. Mom came to sign off on all the shipments and deliveries. And there, just around the side, there was a box or two going on the ship. I’d seen that happen before, but I’d always assumed that it was the blankets and trinkets we made to sell in the city for people who liked that crap. Things that had been made by human hands instead of robot ones or replicators. Now I know that it was a hell of a lot more than that, but back then I had no idea.

The woman Mom was speaking to earnestly shook her hand. There was something hidden in her palm, which my mom took. After the woman went away, Mom put it in her pocket. She looked guilty, and worried. I knew it had something to do with us.

“What do you think it is?” Taema asked me.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

We did.

That night after dinner, Mom and Dad drew the curtains and asked us to sit at the kitchen table. They wiped off the worn wood with antiseptic. They took out a little package and unwrapped it. Little silver squares fell onto the table, glinting in the buzzing electrical light overhead. I knew they were whatever the woman had given my mom that afternoon.

“What are they?” I asked.

“VeriChips. For identification. Made out to Taema and Tila Collins,” Dad said.

“Our last name is Amner,” Taema said.

Because the VeriChips had our real first names, it meant that Mana-ma would be able to find us more easily, if she really wanted to, after we escaped. After losing everything else, we couldn’t stand the thought of having to call each other false names, too. We didn’t think there was anything she’d be able to do to us once we escaped. Once we arrived, we kept our past hidden, kept our noses clean. We thought it was enough.

(We were stupid.)

Mom and Dad got out the medical supplies. They were going to put the VeriChips in now, since we’d leave on the next supply ship out. Mom arranged it with that same woman, who was in charge of the ship. I don’t know how—we wouldn’t have had anything to bribe her with. Maybe she appealed to her conscience or something.