Mortal - Chapter 27

Premise: In this young-adult dystopian novel, people can no longer die. But they still feel pain, and suffer--and it's maddening. Because of the chaos that ensued, the US Government created a program to figure out how to kill people. When Garrett, a teenager, falls into a coma for weeks as a result of an experiment, the Program sets its malicious sights on him.

This is the twenty-seventh chapter of the novel, Mortal. Click here for the beginning of the story. Or, click here to view all chapters.

My eyes open sleeplessly to the ring of Edward’s cell phone. I lay on my side, facing the wall, the sheet of the bed pulled no farther than my hip. I scrunch my eyes shut as the phone continues to sing, piercing through my skull. Lucy shifts behind me, groaning.

“Edward, I swear to God, if you don’t answer that phone I’m going to—”

“Lucy, relax,” the bed across from ours creaks as he shifts, and he finally silences the phone on the bedside table. He sounds...wrong, but either she doesn’t notice, or she ignores it.

“Oh, I’m trying to,” Lucy sits up, yanking off the blankets to face him. “But that phone hasn’t shut up for the past...” she glances at the digital clock on the table, “Four hours!”

I position myself so that I can see him. Edward’s in a plain white t-shirt and boxers. His elbows are between his knees and his hands hold his face. He won’t look at us. Lucy waits for him to explain on his own, but he doesn’t.

“Edward...who’s calling you?” she asks softly, patiently.

Edward rubs his eyes turning over, back onto his bed, “No one.”

“No one?” Lucy demands incredulously. She looks back at me, and her lips knead with concern. I shake my head, left in the dark just as much as she is.

“It’s no one, alright?” Edward exclaims exasperatedly, “No one’s calling.”

“No one,” Lucy repeats, shaking her long hair over her shoulder, “Well tell no one to stop calling.” She slides off the bed and storms off to the bathroom without another word.

I sit up on the edge of the bed, looking at the wall. My heels feebly grip onto the bar of its metal frame.

“Lucy and her beauty sleep, huh?” Edward breaks through the tension, but with half of his usual expertise in sculpting his audience to his will. His words are forced, and they sound it too. A subtle quiver hides in the back of his voice.

My eyes slide to the mirror on the wall. Through it, I can see his slouched form sitting up again. He’s holding his phone in a clenched hand hanging loosely by his knee.

“Is everything all right?” I bring myself to ask. I remove my gaze from the mirror right after I see his body visibly stiffen.

I hear the shower turn on followed by a weak shriek from its faucet releasing a breath of steam.

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward reassures, tiredly, “It’s Allison who’s calling.”

“Allison?”

“My secretary,” he clarifies, “She’s been asking about the story. And I...I have nothing to tell her.”

I feel the urge to look at him, to read his face, but I smother my desire to be replaced by Edward’s need. Clearly, Lucy’s aggressive approach was not the best way to get to him.

“Your secretary...” I feign a scoff, “Aren’t you the boss of her? You’re acting like you’re afraid of her.”

Edward chuckles, mirthlessly. “In this kind of business, the only boss is the people, unfortunately. The magazine...well, it needs this story. It needs it or it will die...it’s going to die, Garrett.”

Edward Gild chokes on his last words, and chills run down my back. He’s scared for his magazine, and maybe that’s a little superficial given what’s at stake here, but I think it’s the only thing he truly cares about. That and Lucy.

“Edward,” I steady my breath, fumbling for the right words, “We have enough information for an article. It’s not a lot, and it might seem like nonsense, but it’s enough.”

“Enough for something half-assed, maybe,” Edward replies doubtfully.

“And half-assed is enough,” I say firmly, finally allowing myself to look at him over my shoulder. “You can publish what we have now, and we’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

His piercing blue eyes squint at me as if he’s trying to decide how valid my suggestion is. Eventually, he shrugs and nods, “You might be right,” he agrees. Edward rises from his bed and grabs his laptop from the table. He starts typing on the keyboard before he even sits down.

I allow a smirk to escape me.

“You’re really bad at this,” Lucy teases, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. She tries to keep her lips in a tight line, but a jubilant tremor breaks them open, revealing a flash of white teeth.

The two of us sit on the recently made bed, a box of puzzle pieces that Lucy had rented from the front desk between us. She sits across from me, cross-legged, her still damp hair forming splotches of moisture, speckling her shirt.

I lounge on my stomach, my feet dangling off the side of the bed. I glance up at her, my chin pressing into the musty comforter. My eyebrows rise, “Yeah?”

“Like really bad,” Lucy qualifies, her mouth puckers in a struggle to keep from grinning, and it’s ridiculously endearing.

I keep staring at her, expectantly, and she soon gives up with a small giggle, and continues to rummage through the box, pulling out more pieces.

“We’re trying to make a sailboat,” she explains, lightly patronizing. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she hunches over to get a clear inspection of the picture on the box, “Not some...abstract art.”

I reach for two pieces and try to force them together, but she swats them out of my grasp with a scolding look.

“Just stop,” she snips, “You’re a lost cause. Pathetic!”

My mouth gapes open in feigned shock, “It’s a complicated puzzle, Lucy!”

“Complicated?” Lucy echoes with disbelief. She snatches up the front of the box and shoves it in my face, “It’s for ten-year-olds!”

I smile, mischievously, “It says...‘Ten...and up’...” I add quietly, tapping at the label.

Lucy rolls her eyes, dropping the top of the box back on the bed. “Well, they can’t just exclude us. That would be discrimination.”

“Maybe you could learn a thing or two from this puzzle,” I state, forcing the expression on my face to smooth away.

Lucy recoils, quirking a slender brow, “Excuse me?”

“You need to be more understanding of people’s disabilities.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you calling yourself disabled?” she chuckles, shaking her head as she attaches two edge pieces together. She pauses in her examination of the pile of edge pieces, and looks up, “Well, I suppose it would make sense why I’m the only one building this thing.”

“Ehem, it’s not a thing. It’s clearly a sailboat,” I correct her mockingly.

Her eyes narrow, as she dumps the rest of the pieces onto the bed. She nearly has the entire border placed together.

“Maybe I’m color-blind,” I offer a reason to our predicament.

Her lips curl, and a laugh blends in with her words, “I don’t care if you’re color-blind. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this piece,” she holds up a small corner piece, “And this piece,” and a middle piece, “Don’t go together!” She meshes the pieces together to no avail.

“Uh-huh,” I nod my head, thoughtfully.

She hits me in the shoulder, playfully, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Me? You’re the one who—”

Edward reemerges from the bathroom, a tie hanging loosely at his neck, and his button-up shirt half-heartedly tucked into his trousers. His hair is a mess of tussled wet curls. He holds his cell phone tightly to his ear, enough to make his knuckles blanched white.

“Yes, I understand. I get it. Bye,” Edward grits out before pulling the phone away from his ear, ending the call.

“You okay?” Lucy asks, frowning slightly at the tone of his voice.

Edward nods, shakily. He stumbles through the cramped room until his hand lands on his keys resting on the table, “I’ll be back,” he says flatly, “I have to run some errands.”

“Don’t get too drunk on those errands, Edward,” Lucy mutters sourly just as the door slams shut.

Lucy sighs, rubbing a hand at her temple, “There’s something wrong,” she suspects quietly. She slides her hand through the remaining clutter of pieces, not meeting my gaze.

“He told me Allison was calling,” I admit, giving up on the puzzle entirely.

Lucy looks up, “Allison?”

“Yeah,” I say, “He’s worried about the magazine. Doesn’t know what he can publish for the next issue.”

She blinks, a flicker of confusion running down her face, before her jaw clenches tightly. She examines the nearly complete border of the puzzle before sighing out, “There’s a piece missing.”

I smile, “Of course there is.”

Lucy glowers at me in jest, but it never fully reaches her eyes, “I’m serious. How are we supposed to build this thing if we don’t have all the pieces?”

There’s a warm flutter in my chest, but I try to swallow it down, “What do you think we should do?”

She grabs at her head again, shrinking in on herself. “I don’t know,” she says quietly, “I have no idea. I’m worried about him, Garrett. I’m worried about all of us. But I know there’s nothing I can do about it. And it’s driving me nuts.” She glances up at me with a sad smile, “Can’t even finish a damn puzzle for ten-year-olds.” She laughs at herself.

“It was pretty tricky,” I reassure her.

She responds with a curt nod before collecting the pieces, and dropping them all into the box. She pushes the lid onto the lower half of the container and looks up at me. There’s a crease of pain between her brow, and that’s enough for me to grab her hand.

Her hand tightens around my fingers. “It’s getting harder to pretend,” she whispers.

I give her hand a comforting squeeze, and there’s an internal urge in me that decides to not let her go until forever.

Forever lasts not nearly long enough. With a slip of the keycard, Edward reenters the room, carrying a crumpled, brown, paper bag. Lucy jerks off my shoulder after dozing restlessly.

“Edward,” she looks at him, expecting.

When he sees us, lying beside each other on the bed, he flinches. Flushing, I scoot away from her, sitting up as well. The man looks awful. He has dark smudges under his eyes and looks paler than usual. He pulls out the bottle of scotch from his bag, and takes a long gulp of it before setting it down on the dresser top.

I can tell none of us knows what to say, but I ignore the instinct to remain silent, “How’s the article coming?”

“Luce, can I speak with you in the hallway?”

I try to neglect the sting of hurt that hits me with the continuation of secrets. I remind myself that Lucy believes Edward is the closest thing she has to a sibling, and I know Edward feels the same way whether he cares to admit it or not. But after all we’ve been through together, how it’s now just us against the world, the resentment I feel still bleeds into me.

“Yeah,” she says as she hops off the mattress. She glances over her shoulder at me before she follows Edward out the door.

It clicks shut.

I rise from the bed, suddenly feeling anxious. Whatever he’s saying to her, maybe it has nothing to do with me. It could be something about the magazine. After all, they do work together. It could just as easily be something personal. A relative ill?

I walk into the bathroom, careful to avoid the damp towels littered over the tiled floor. I grab the toothbrush Bern had bought me and squirt some toothpaste on before shoving it into my mouth. I brush rigorously, not knowing what else to do to keep me and my thoughts busy.

I spit into the sink when I hear the door being unlocked and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.

“I can’t believe you!” Lucy pushes past the door before giving it a shove back—only to have it caught by Edward who carefully closes it once he’s inside.

I stare at him with questioning eyes only for him to immediately look away from my gaze, grimacing. “Lucy?” I turn to see her stuffing articles of clothing into her bag. Her face is red, and it looks like she’s on the brink of crying. “What’s going on?” I demand.

“We have to go, Garrett,” Lucy says, brushing past me into the bathroom, “Pack your stuff.”

“Lucy,” Edward growls out, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “Let’s be rational about this.”

I peer through the doorway, watching Lucy shove toiletries in her bag. She’s shaking her head, with a crooked, bitter smile.

“God dammit, Lucy,” Edward slaps the wooden doorframe. “Just listen to me. Try to understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she blinks, moving closer to the door, “I understand that I was a fool to ever trust you. Now get out of my way.”

They glare at each other until Edward sighs, stepping away.

“Garrett, come on, get your bag,” she sniffs, looking up towards the ceiling.

I stare at her incredulously, “Why?”

“Because he fucking sold us out, Garrett!” Lucy meets my gaze, her green eyes a piercing maelstrom of anger, hurt and fear, “Eden’s coming for you.”

A swell of nausea smothers my stomach, ripping a flash of feverish heat through me. I swallow thickly, trying to comprehend that I have been betrayed. Again. “Edward?”

He won’t look at me, for he’s much more interested in his shoes. “Garrett, I had no choice. Paracot, he—he’s trying to take the magazine away from me.”

“He’s right, Garrett,” Lucy speaks up, taking it upon herself to gather my things, “The only choice he has is to save his own skin. That’s the only choice a coward ever has.”

Lucy hands me my bag before walking up to the man. She holds out her hand, “The least you could do is give us your car.”

Edward’s face creases in pain, “This is a mistake. Please don’t go.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she snaps coldly, “Not anymore.”

“Lucy—”

“Shut up and give me the damn keys!” She screams out before biting back hard on her lip.

He shuts his eyes, and relents, dropping his chain of keys into the palm of her hand. Her fingers clasp around them, and she pushes past him and holds the door open for me.

I hesitate, and look at the man who was once my guardian. The only outsider to ever give a damn about any of the prisoners of Project Eden. The man who took me in when Abel could no longer continue in the path for freedom. The man who sought us justice. The man standing in front of me, I no longer recognize. Shifting the backpack onto my shoulders, I leave the room with not even a look back.

We’re silent as we descend the stairs, exiting through the lobby and towards Edward’s car in the parking lot. The clouded sky has just started sprinkling, flecks of water dotting us and making the air smell like musk. We put our bags in the back seat before hopping into the front.

Lucy jams the key into the ignition. And that’s when she breaks down. Ragged and squeaky gasps escape her lips as her fingernails dig into the steering wheel. Her hair falls over her face, and tears freely slip down her cheeks. She sobs, banging her head into the wheel with enough force to sound a honk of protest. Seeing her like this, it’s worse than any betrayal.

“Hey,” I touch her shoulder gently and shush her, “It’s going to be okay.”

She ignores me, crying, “I’m so sorry, Garrett. I’m so sorry.”

“Lucy,” my fingers squeeze her shoulder, “You didn’t—”

“Stupid, stupid,” she mutters, pulling up from the wheel to wipe a hand over her face, “Not again. Why does this....why does this keep happening?!”

I have a feeling we’re not talking about me anymore. Edward Gild broke her trust just as much as mine, if not more. Because I knew there were only two things in the world that Edward truly cared about, but the magazine he cared for more.

“We trusted him,” she hiccups, looking up at me. My chest strains at the sight of her: Big, wet eyes, a red, smeared face, black tears. “You trusted him. And he Sold. You. Out,” she manages to choke out in a shaky gasp, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reassure her, knowing the most important thing right now is to calm her down. I wipe a couple of her tears away with my thumb, and I force a smile, “I didn’t like him much anyway.”

She sniffs, “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do what we can.”

Thanks for reading everyone! See you next week with more chapters! xoxo, Liv