Here Skies Surround Us Page 2

  “Thank you for coming, everyone.” Jak’s voice comes from near the bonfire. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  I pull away from Evan’s arms, his fingers holding onto me until the last second, and push through the crowd to get closer to the stage. When Jak finally comes into view, I can’t help but smile wistfully. Jak’s the boy I used to dream with—the one I once called “friend.” He’s so close, yet of all the people around the bonfire tonight, he’s the furthest out of my reach. Jak was one of my best friends throughout childhood. As we approached our eighteenth birthdays, Jak told me he loved me, but when I was unable to return the gesture, our friendship ended. Any chance we had of fixing that went out the window when I fell for Evan. It’s no secret—Jak and Evan don’t get along.

  It was Jak’s connection to me that allowed him to get close to the Director. Torn between his ambition and his love for a girl who did not reciprocate his feelings, Jak eventually saw the Director for who he really was and helped the rebels bring him down. Nevertheless, the loss of a close friend is still hard to swallow, especially since he isn’t the same old Jak anymore. This Jak has power, and I’m not sure he’d ever let it go, even for me.

  Through gossip, I’ve learned that Jak is running for the new Director position, with the promise of a transparent governing body. If anyone can pull it off, it’s him. I have no interest in the political side of life—I simply want to enjoy my freedom.

  He raises a hand and runs it through his blond hair. It looks darker than I remember, but maybe that’s just a mix of the night sky and the flames throwing their shadows at him. He does it again. He’s nervous. He’d never mess his hair twice on purpose.

  Standing next to Jak are the former Delegates of the old Director: Samson and Brandt. The third Delegate, Carleton, has chosen to stay inside of the dome. He has no interest in the Outer Colony, and instead has locked himself up in the basement of the Hall of Records, a building where he used to be in charge that’s dedicated to housing the artifacts of the past. Some say he’s gone completely mad.

  When things fell apart, only Betker, the fourth and final Delegate who was in charge of the Order, was found responsible for the atrocities against the people of our dome. He’s buried near the hills, surrounded by the victims of the virus tests, which some see as an offense to the dead—allowing the mastermind behind their deaths be laid to rest amongst them. I like to think that he is forever trapped by those he betrayed, serving as a reminder for generations to come of just how inhumane we once were.

  Evan slips in beside me just as Jak begins.

  “First on the agenda is housing. Brandt, please provide an update.”

  “Yes, sir. Everyone who chooses to live on the outside has been provided with a temporary home.”

  “That’s not enough,” someone from the crowd pipes up.

  “Yeah, why should those people on the inside get better accommodations?” another voice calls out.

  Brandt holds up a muscular arm, and the crowd instantly quiets. “I do have a solution to your concerns. I propose we take down one of the apartment buildings and use those materials to build the first of our permanent homes.”

  The crowd roars into a rumbling of arguments. I can’t tell who agrees and who doesn’t.

  “Of course, it would be a Delegate to recommend tearing down a building from the apartment block over one of your mansions.” It’s the same person who started this disagreement.

  “It is just a recommendation,” Brandt says, putting his arms up again to draw the crowd’s attention. “We could consider one of the mansions, but those materials were already taken into consideration for agricultural expansions, seeing as they are logistically closer. Just like the apartment district is closest to the exit, and therefore the Outer Colony.”

  The crowd again breaks into a boom of shouting. The same man’s voice speaks up, this time as he steps in front of the dancing flames. It’s Richards, a scientist I worked with on the Expedition team. He was also one of the rebels who planned to bring down our dome’s government before I ever learned there was a problem. I can’t help but wonder if there is another rebellion brewing.

  “As always,” Richards speaks up and the crowd hushes immediately, “the apartment districts have never been anything but expendable to all of you. Well, no more. This is a new world, one where every person on the outside is treated equally.”

  The crowd roars in approval, and Richards nods before stepping back, hidden again between the people and the shadows. Brandt’s face stays calm—ever the politician.

  “We will go back to the drawing board and look to the gated communities.”

  The crowd cheers again.

  Jak continues. “On to the next item. Water. How is the trench coming?”

  A tall, lean girl with hair that reflects the flames as if it is on fire itself steps from the crowd and nestles right next to Jak. My pulse races under my skin. It shouldn’t bother me, not at all. Tassie was my first friend inside the Axis when the Order tore me from my home. We were roommates and she was always there for me. Right up until the moment I rejected Jak, and she swooped in to mend his broken heart.

  These last few weeks, I’ve been working side by side with Tassie as we dig the trench to the river. Brandt set her up as our team leader. Tassie was a biologist at the dome, though I’m guessing it’s her relationship with Jak that got her the job. There’s something to be said about having friends in power. At least she knows well enough not to talk about Jak around me.

  “The trench is coming along nicely,” Tassie explains. “In another week, we should reach the river. Then we will be able to work on irrigation and filtration, and begin to minimize our reliance on the dome.”

  Everyone cheers.

  “Great news,” Jak says. “Next meeting will be in three nights, so we can see what the agricultural team needs and start planning for farming on the outside. Any questions?”

  “What about the virus?” a voice yells out.

  “What about it?” Jak asks.

  An older woman steps forward, looking around Grandmother’s age. “We don’t know that it’s still not a threat.”

  “The outside is safe, everyone,” Jak says.

  “It’s not the outside we’re worried about,” the woman says. “It’s that locked up lab you have up there in the Axis. If we cut off the dome completely, who’s to say they won’t turn on us?”

  “We aren’t abandoning the dome, just finding ways to survive without it.” Jak’s voice comes out sharp, making the hair on my arms stand. I know that voice. Jak doesn’t react well when he’s losing control. Back when I confronted him about supporting the Director and his atrocities, he grabbed my wrists so tightly, the skin bruised where his fingers had been. Though most of it came from his jealousy over my blossoming relationship with Evan, I know deep down inside that Jak is a control freak. He always has been. The only thing stronger may be his thirst for power. Even when we were kids, he dreamed of becoming the Director one day.

  The crowd begins to argue again, and two men behind me get heated. One of the men pushes me from behind, into the open circle of the bonfire. Jak’s eyes instantly meet mine, his gaze marred by a flicker of sadness. That is, until he glances over at Evan, who’s now joined me. For a moment, I see the hatred he holds inside, and I know nothing has really changed between us. Between them.

  “Look, everyone.” Jak points a long finger at me. “It’s Nat, daughter of the Greyes scientists. She was there. She knows all about the virus. She understands that it is not a threat any longer.”

  I scowl at him for using the name I’ve despised ever since my parents died when I was nine: Greyes scientists. They became famous for leading the first expedition program outside the dome to see if the land was habitable for a colony. When my mother found out about the Director’s secret and threatened to out him to the people, he had them and their entire team killed.

  I don’t appreciate being
used as a tool to appease the people.

  The crowd silences, and I can feel everyone’s gaze weighing heavily on me. What can I say that they haven’t already been told? How am I supposed to gain their approval when I can’t even get it from my own grandmother?

  “It’s true,” my voice comes out jagged and full of nerves, “we’re all safe from the virus. Everyone knows about the stockpile that’s in the Axis, but don’t forget; you’ve all been given the immunity serum. You’re safe.”

  “Maybe we should test the virus again,” someone suggests.

  “And steal more innocent people?” a woman shrieks.

  “What if it could protect us from others, like a weapon?” another woman calls out.

  “Bio-warfare is what got all of us here in the first place,” a man shouts.

  “You idiots!” a woman shrieks again.

  The crowd begins to struggle against itself as people push, pull, yell, and accuse. A hand grabs my arm, and I fling it up in defense to try to protect myself. But it’s not a stranger—it’s Evan.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he mouths.

  I nod in agreement, and we push our way through the crowd, Evan protectively parting the way ahead of me. Instead of coming across as endearing, it’s irritating. I can take care of myself.

  We walk in silence all the way to my room. The stars are brighter now, hanging in the sky in direct contrast to the darkness that surrounds them. If the stars can still shine after everything they’ve watched us go through, then we can all find a way to work together and live in all this open space.

  “Some meeting,” Evan finally speaks. I climb into bed. He takes the floor.

  “I don’t like it, all the fighting, and arguing. It doesn’t make sense; we’re free now. Getting angry about bringing down an old apartment building that is most likely half-empty doesn’t do any good. Those people can move to another building if they want to stay on the inside. Then the virus? I mean, how can they be so stupid to think continuing to work with the virus is a good idea? Have we learned nothing? If people keep acting like this, someone will think bringing the Order back is a good idea.”

  I let out the breath that I’d been holding, and my body vibrates as the tension escapes. Evan props himself up on his side and looks calmer than ever—another trait that’s getting old.

  “Nat, you worry too much. Things will never be how they were before. Your dome will never blindly follow again. People respect the rebels now, just as they used to respect the Order. If people keep their sense about them, everything will be fine.”

  He’s partially right. The rebels have regrouped in the open as the AGs, short for Avasa Group. The word Avasa means independent, and came from a book my best friend Xara found where she works at the Hall of Records. She’s notoriously obsessed with finding old words that are out of use, and recently came across a book of name meanings and found the perfect one.

  Xara started working at the Hall of Records as an Archivist, because that’s where her mother, Cara Douglass, worked, and it was she who helped me get an important artifact out of storage, right under Delegate Carleton’s nose, enabling me to solve my mother’s riddle and stop the Director.

  The AGs personally delivered the immune serum to all residents as a first step in rebuilding trust. But deep inside I know Evan’s also wrong. My dome isn’t like his. They didn’t receive the choice to leave the dome, naturally, like they should have; they were manipulated into believing the only place they were truly safe was on the inside.

  Plus, what would people say if they knew I had the original strain of the immune serum tucked away safe outside of the dome, along with the microchip that holds the information on how to create it? They are the only things saving us from the very virus that forced us into the domes in the first place.

  I roll over toward Evan, my face resting on his chest, and he curls his arms around me. Another nightmare brought him into my bed. It still feels awkward to share a room with him, but I’d never give it up. Having him hold me close against his body makes everything better.

  “What does your schedule look like next week?” he asks.

  A giggle slips out. “My schedule? What about it? Tassie and I are working on the trench. I’ll probably pop in to see my grandfather. And maybe I’ll get in some more cuddling time with you.”

  I tilt my face up to kiss the side of his neck. A low groan rumbles in his chest, escaping his lips as he tightens his grip around me.

  “I thought we could leave next week.”

  My entire body goes rigid. Evan has been trying to talk to me about returning with him to his home, Dome 569, but every time he does, I can only reply with “not yet.” We still have so much to do here on the outside: housing, water, and food. All are essential to the Outer Colony’s survival, and every person’s contribution counts.

  But I know why he’s asking. Both he and my uncle Alec were supposed to leave shortly after they brought down our Axis, and secured the virus with it, and report to Evan’s mother, Caroline. But it’s been four weeks and neither of them has left. Now that Alec is planning to go, Evan must be anxious. Not only will his mother wonder where he is, she won’t be happy our Axis is still standing, fully stocked with the virus. Evan’s departure is going to happen whether I’m ready to go with him or not.

  Evan’s grip loosens, its comfort replaced with an unsettling sensation—fear. I know this is important to him and that he wants an answer right now, but I can’t stop the tightening in my chest or the prickle across my skin. I’ve spent most of my life confined and afraid. Am I ready for even more change?

  “Already? I mean, the trench isn’t done and next week we’re going to start talking about food.”

  “Nat.” He reaches out and cups my cheek, running his thumb across it and sending a shot of electricity down my body. “You don’t have to pretend. It’s okay.”

  “I’m nervous to leave home for so long,” I blurt out. He frowns, so I quickly add, “But I’m excited to see what else is out there—really, I am.”

  And that’s true. At least, that’s what I tell myself. In truth, I’m worried about going somewhere new. At least when Evan came to my dome to help my uncle Alec uncover our Director and expose him and the Order, he always knew he had his family waiting for him. If I go there and things don’t work out, what do I have waiting for me back here?

  My voice squeaks out in a whisper. “What if your mother doesn’t like me?”

  He bursts out laughing. I can feel my face sear with heat and I bury it in my blanket with embarrassment. Evan scoops his arm under me and lifts me back to his chest.

  “I promise we’ll come back in a month,” Evan says, as he kisses my forehead in assurance. “I just need to report back and tie up some loose ends. You’ll learn quickly that I don’t really care what my mother thinks.”

  I nestle into him and run my fingers along his chest. He grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers through mine, pulling me closer and upward, until our lips meet. I know it’s a dangerous game to play, here, alone in my tiny one-room house, but I need to feel close and wanted. I need to know that Evan wants me, and when his body responds, pulling me tighter, his kisses coming faster and harder, I know that he does.

  But want and need are two different things.

  And I know a lot can happen in a month.

  ***

  Later in the morning, I wake up to voices outside our shack. Their heated whispers make me nervous. Is something going on? I slide out of bed and cover up before listening at the open door.

  “It’s more serious than you realize.” Samson’s voice is strained.

  Evan replies, “Then the AGs need to stay on top of it.”

  “We have to be careful. People still are afraid of the Order.”

  “The AGs are not the Order.”

  “You know how people think. It could stir things up worse.”

  “Is everything okay out here?” I ask, stepping outsid
e the shack and making my presence known.

  “Hello, Natalia.” Samson nods. Still so formal like a Delegate.

  “Samson came by to let me know there has been a lot of rumbling since last night’s meeting.”

  I know it should feel odd to see Evan and Samson talking, but Evan has been working with both Samson and Brandt to help set up the Outer Colony. Who better than someone that grew up on the outside? Moreover, Samson was always a part of the rebellion, and now leads the AGs. He’s even had them set up an outpost, as security for the colonists. I must admit, it does feel a little safer to have them out here with us.

  “Well, I better get going,” Samson says. “Don’t let me take you away from your girl.”

  “I’m not sure she’s mine to claim.”

  Samson chuckles as he walks away. Evan takes advantage of the moment, pulling me close and pecking me on the lips. I pull back, gazing at his face where his hair falls over his eyes, concealing the wrinkles from his smile.

  At what point do we claim each other?

  “The people here are going to go crazy for a while. Are you sure you want to stick around and see that?”

  I shrug. I’ve handled crazy before.

  “No, you don’t. Trust me. I’ve been there—heck, I grew up in it. It’ll be years until things calm down. I’ve seen it coming since we started developing the colony. People are paranoid things will go back to the old ways, but are too afraid to let them go. They need time.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “I know. Listen, we’ll talk later. Okay?”

  I nod and he leaves abruptly for work. The topic of returning to his dome is becoming a thorn between us, and I’m getting tired of it. I return to the shack, alone, and get ready for work. As I rifle through my dresser my hands touch the solid corners of a box. It’s the same metal box my mother used to hide evidence against the Director. Now it holds a sample of the immune serum and the microchip, both taken before rescuing Evan and fleeing the dome. They are of the utmost importance. Now that we know people are no longer immune, it’s the main reason Evan needs to return home. His people have as much a right to protection from the virus as mine do. Plus, someone needs to continue the work that Waldorf started. That tiny microchip holds all his work. We can’t just lock up the virus and pretend it never existed. Waldorf spent the last nine years working on the immune serum. This was his penance.