The Deathless Trilogy

1.14. Tests

It's tough knowing that with each passing day, I inch closer to war. I've had nightmares about it nearly every night for the past week. In the dreams, the Deathless and I are fighting off Prowlers in the fields outside my house, but the machines are much more massive than in reality. Every time they stomp, the ground shakes and trees fall, and with each step, I watch my house crumble all over again. The grass and fields start to open, and all of us fighting with the Deathless get trapped in the open earth, like quicksand. That's usually when I try to reach for my slingshot, but it's never anywhere to be found, and no one is ever there to help me. And I can never help myself, I just sink deeper. When I wake up, I tell myself I'm strong, but when I think about actually fighting, I feel sick with terror.

The only thought that keeps me strong is that Daniel, Dad, and the Crowleys may still be alive. But even that's not guaranteed. What if I find out that Daniel was killed for sending that transmission? What will I do then?

I try to focus on my work—Declan is testing different samples from our knock out compound for toxicity and potency while I type his findings into the computer log—but my weariness manifests in numerous typos. Days on the Immortal are taxing. I'm constantly studying and working and training, especially now that I've been promoted to the rescue team. Phoebe said she wanted to see how well I work in the field before she sent me into the bunker. Great, I thought, another stressor to worry about.

I barely have time to spend with Mom or Declan, who has become a close friend, and even though Nate claimed to only want to be friends, I catch him staring at me nearly every time we're both in the lab, and our combat training has been nearly speechless. But yesterday, while Phoebe was away to check on a project, Nate pulled my arm into a chickenwing hold, and he paused before flipping me onto my back.

"Are we fighting?" he asked.

"No," I said, tearing his arm away from its hold around my neck, and turning myself to face him. "I'm just focusing on my project with Declan."

"Oh. Because you've been avoiding me since I tried to apologize to you, and it feels like we're fighting," he said. I crouched down, ready to pounce or fend off a strike, but he straightened his posture and relaxed his body. He smiled a coy, crooked smile. "I don't want to fight with you." His eyes lingered on mine for just a second too long and his gaze fell to my lips.

I knew then that I was right to ignore him. I kicked him in the groin, and then made up some emergency I had to get to.

Nate can't be my friend, and I can't distract myself from work, from Daniel, from the war. From anything, really. And that's all he is. A distraction.

I look up from the computer where I'm logging Declan's findings, and I catch Nate looking at me now. I dart my eyes away and return to the work in front of me, clacking the keys beneath my fingertips.

I want to focus—I need to focus—but all I can think about is how Nate is probably still staring at me, and the thought makes my fingers shake. I ball them into a fist and loosen them at my sides. "Declan?" I start, looking for anything else to think about.

"Yeah?" he responds without lifting an eye from his tests.

Focus on what's important, I tell myself. "You know how Daniel and I have known each other forever?"

Still, he doesn't look up from the tests. "Yeah?"

"Did you ever have anyone like that? Any ladies before the world ended?" I ask.

"Toxicity levels for sample 2 are normal," he says, and I type that into our log.

He sets down his instruments and looks at me. He's still wearing his protective goggles, and the band pushes his already wild hair up around his head in funny angles. He moves the goggles to his forehead and puts on his normal glasses before answering me.