Page 236 of Immune

Maine is alive.

Getting him back should have fixed the hole his disappearance made. It doesn’t. It only turns that hole into a room that I’m forced to live in now.

I step into the hall and every head turns toward me. I hate that immediately, so I choose the one face least likely to ask me what the fuck I’m feeling.

Kaito sits on the floor across from the door, one knee bent and one arm braced loosely over it. His side must be killing him, and he looks tired enough to be honest, which is perfect.

I walk over to him and sit next to him without asking. Not close, but close enough. His scent reaches me, burning wood and worn flannel, steady and reliable under the medical stench I can’t escape. He doesn’t say anything, and I consider him a very great man in that moment. A truly awful time for such beautiful competence, honestly.

For a long while, we sit with our backs leaning against the wall and listen to the compound around us. Then Kaitoshifts his hand, palm up on the floor between us. An offer, not a demand, and I stare at it for a long, hard second.

Stupid hand.

Offensive, ridiculous hand.

Emotionally manipulative with its patience.

Eventually, I place two fingers against his palm. Only the two. Barely anything at all, but his hand closes around them with careful warmth. Not trapping, just holding.

Inside the room, Maine breathes evenly.

Outside it, the world waits with chainsaws and axes.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

My brother is alive.

My brother left.

My brother came back.

None of those truths scrub away the others.

They just sit inside my chest together, all crowded and uncomfortable, now having to learn how to hurt in a whole new way.

THIRTY-SIX

XEON

Dakota disappears twenty-seven minutes after Maine finally falls asleep.

She doesn’t go far. She’s too tired for far. Too injured for fast. And too stubborn for either of those things to matter as much as they should.

I only notice because I’ve been watching the hallways without looking like I’m watching the hallways. It’s a useful skill to possess, especially because people reveal a lot more when they believe they’re unobserved. They breathe differently. Move differently. Make choices in the small spaces between being witnessed.

Dakota has always lived within those spaces.

She steps out of the medical room with her hair still loose and her bandana hanging uselessly around her neck. The faded hat is clutched in her hands now, crushed in one fist, like she can’t decide whether to put it back on or throw it across the hallway and hate it for even daring to survive.

Kaito is asleep with his back still leaning against the wall. Not deeply, because none of us sleep deeply anymore. His hand is still open on the floor next to him, exactly where Dakota’s fingers had rested earlier. Fletcher stands near the end of the corridor speaking quietly with Valeria Reyes, all controlled temper and narrowed eyes. Ewan has his headphones looped around his wrist instead of his neck where they normally live, but his gaze tracks Dakota the moment she moves.

He sees me notice, and I watch the moment he decides not to call it out.

Good.

Dakota doesn’t need yet another voice chasing after her. She needs a place to exist where no one asks her to be reasonable or understandable. So, when she turns down the side hallway, I wait approximately six seconds before following after her. Not because she wouldn’t know, because she definitely does. Of course she knows.

By the time I reach the second turn, her voice floats through the darkness ahead. “If you’re planning on telling me to rest, I’m going to start stabbing people in alphabetical order.”