Page 14 of He Is Jensen: Part Two

“So you went through all that fear and treatment alone.” It isn’t a question. It’s more an expression of the awe I feel for how selfless she’s been in her approach to her illness, how bravely she faced this nightmare.

“I just couldn’t bear to see her hurt again. I guess at some point I’m going to have to talk to her.”

“Not if we can find an antidote or a way to keep you on ICE long-term.”

“Don’t,” she warns, shaking her head. “Don’t paint rainbows for me. I don’t need them. I don’t want them. I’m way beyond that now.” She gives me a look that says that part of the conversation is over and swiftly changes the subject. “Why are the eyes of the Zodius black, yet yours are their natural color?”

I freeze with my drink tipped back, glad for the diversion to regain my composure before I set the can back down. “All GTECHs have black eyes, but they have the ability to camouflage them to their natural color with everyone but their lifebond.” Except me, but I’m not about to say that. And I’m damn glad right about now for the special lenses Dr. Chin made during my time at Area 51, before he turned traitor.

“So your eyes aren’t really teal anymore?”

“No,” I reply softly, too softly, and I know it. “They’re black.”

Her expression warms. “I always loved your eyes, you know.”

It’s a surprising but welcome confession, that speaks of an attraction years ago that was not one sided. “No. I didn’t know.”

“I always loved your eyes, too, Layla. I still do.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flush, and she picks up a fry. “So why do all the Zodius choose not to camouflage their eye color?”

“Eye color is human,” I explain. “Zodius see humans as weak and part of the past. GTECHs represent evolution.”

Her expression pales. “I really want to get to a lab and start working so we can stop Julian.” She hesitates and shifts in her seat. “Where exactly are you taking me when we leave here?”

“Our inner-city hub. We’ll have a live webcam set up so you can work with our scientific team.”

She shifts in her chair again, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “And my proof that you are who you say you are, along with everyone else I’m working with?”

“Caleb’s arranging documentation and a call to the White House.”

She blinks in obvious confusion. “White House?”

“The Renegades have an alliance with the government, though half the time they still treat us as barely contained enemies. But we make it work, and so do they. No one wants Julian to get any more powerful than he already is.”

She nods, cutting her gaze from mine, picking up a french fry and taking a tiny bite that seems more about avoiding eye contact than hunger.

“Layla,” I prod gently, willing her to look at me. I know she feels isolated, alone in a deeply personal way, and being quarantined isn’t going to help.

Her lashes flutter and lift. “Yes?”

I open my mouth and shut it. How do I tell her everything is going to be okay when it isn’t? Addie is right. Layla has the world on her shoulders. So I hedge. “Eat. It will make you feel better.”

She stares at me, her eyes filled with trepidation that suddenly shifts to determination as she straightens and says, “Putting an end to the nightmare named Julian will make me feel better, but I’ll settle for food now.”

I grin. “I like that plan.” I snatch a fry and then reach into the bag and pull out the four burgers remaining inside.

Layla laughs. “You do have that big GTECH appetite. It seems I’m getting one myself. I sure hope ICE burns calories since I’m missing my five-mile daily run. And if it does, I don’t want to think about how easily that could lure women into trying it. And I’m not joking.”

“Thankfully Julian isn’t good at thinking from a female perspective.” I dump fries on top of the bag. “Let’s hope we get it off the streets before anyone gets that creative idea for recruiting new users.”

“You know,” Layla comments, “the only thing keeping Julian from mass distributing ICE is the body count. He wants people alive and worshipping him from what I can tell. But I think he’ll become impatient and risk the body count to get followers sooner than later. And the problem with that is we have no idea of the long-term effects ICE has on people. They could die. They could develop strange alien diseases. Go blind. Become cripples. The list of possibilities is daunting.”

“Or they could turn violent,” I conclude, thinking of the earlier conversation. “Yes. We’ve thought of the possibilities, and they aren’t good.”

She pauses with her burger near her mouth and then sets it down. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we have to cut off the supply source. No matter the cost to those currently addicted, Jensen.”

We. At least she’s talking like she’s decided to join the Renegades, and I haven’t even gotten her that proof yet. But she’s right. Our problem is growing. “We’re trying,” I assure her. “I was hoping we’d figure out the ingredients in ICE and create the antidote first, but we’re backed into a corner at this point.”