Sea of Stars(51)
Chewing my bottom lip, I jump when Trey leans near me, murmuring, “They told me you died.” I hesitate, glancing at him. He has a hollow look. He anxiously rakes me with his eyes, as if he doesn’t believe it’s really me.
“When?” I ask. I have a desert in my mouth; I try to swallow past the lump of sand in my throat.
“When they took you from my cell. They taunted me with it—they told me you drowned.”
“Did you believe them?” I ask.
He grimaces. “No. Yes. No. I went back and forth. I don’t know which was worse.” My eyes widen as he adds, “I knew what could happen to you if you survived.” Now his look is sorrowful.
“Nothing happened,” I reply, but I know what I just said is untrue. I can’t remember the last couple of days. I woke up and it was Fitzmartin—Wednesday. I’ve lost time. A deep ache forms in the pit of my stomach.
“Something did happen, Kricket,” he replies. “It started soon after you were taken from your cell.”
“What started?”
“After I escaped, I looked for you. I hacked the Ship of Skye main systems. The location and surveillance of your interrogation was encrypted with a security code I couldn’t decipher without some of my more advanced programs. I didn’t have access to the tools I needed to find you—they were stored in my wrist communicator.” He holds up his wrist to show me his watchlike device. “I had to get it back, but it was in my apartment. I’d dropped it when they came to arrest us.” I remember him taking off his wrist communicator so he could use it to help me focus on trying to project into the future. “I couldn’t infiltrate the system to look for you until I retrieved it. It took me several parts—my apartment was being guarded—they were looking for me. When I did get it back, and I was able to scan the system for you, I found their recording of the interrogation sessions with you in the ship’s database—”
I shake my head. “I . . . I don’t remember anything—I only became conscious a few hours ago—I mean parts ago.”
His expression turns angry. “I don’t know if I saw all of it—if there were more sessions—but I saw enough. I heard your screams—they tortured you, Kricket.”
I shake my head in denial. “I would remember—”
“Turn around. Let me see your back,” he orders, his lips flattening in a grim line.
“My back?” I ask numbly.
“Yes. Show me your back. Lift your shirt.”
Slowly, I turn around in the doorway of the silver transport. I stare over the metal guard railing ahead of me. It’d be a long fall to the bottom of the detention area should I slip over it. I let the red trench coat slide off my shoulder. Pulling back the collar of my shirt, I hear Trey’s intake of breath. I glance over my shoulder at my exposed skin and see a thick bruise that’s turning from black to yellow. It looks like it was really bad at one time, but it’s healing now. Abruptly, I pull my collar back up and cover my shirt with the red trench coat once more.
I shake my head slowly, trying to clear the fog from it. “I don’t know how that happened. I’ve been trying to escape—the dishery—” I turn back around to face him.
“They used hallucinogens mostly—drugs—when they questioned you, so that’s probably why you don’t remember it,” he interrupts. “When you didn’t answer a question, you were struck.”
I blanch and ask, “What did I say?”
“You spoke about Earth—mostly—and me,” he replies solemnly.
“Oh,” I murmur, unable to come up with a suitable reply.
“At one point, I thought they killed you,” Trey confesses in a rough voice.
I shake my head again, trying to think. “No. Not yet.” I don’t meet his eyes because I might cry if I do. Instead, I laugh; it doesn’t contain a hint of humor, though. “Despite their best efforts, I’ve managed to outlive my expiration date. If it’s any consolation, most of them are getting pounded by the Alameeda now.”
“It isn’t, but if it’s any consolation to you, the one who beat you is dead.”
“He’s dead? How?” My voice shakes. I can’t help it.
“I couldn’t find where you had been taken after the interrogation, but I located Rutledge’s apartment.”
“Rutledge—the Brigadet guard who brought me to my cell?”