Dan Wells - Partials series 1-3 (Partials; Fragments; Ruins)

Kira bit her lip, trying to make sense of her own feelings. Samm was the enemy, and yet she felt sorry for him; his words had made her so mad, yet she felt almost guilty for feeling that way. She swallowed, forcing out a response that was part accusation, part desperate plea for understanding. “Is that why you’re telling me all this? Because you feel bad about killing us?”

“I’m telling you this because you have to understand that the cure is not enough. The war was devastating, but the problems started long before that.”

Kira shook her head, her words coming out harsher than even she expected. “Don’t tell me what I have to understand.” She left his side and went back to work.

“It’s a communication system,” said Kira. It was early evening, and since she’d skipped lunch she’d decided to join Marcus for an early dinner. He’d brought sushi from a street vendor, and they were eating together in an empty room on the third floor, away from all the bustle and people below. She took a bit of sushi, swallowed it, and kept talking, so eager she could barely keep up with herself. Her conversation with Samm still burned in the back of her mind, glowing banks of hot emotional coals, but she forced herself to ignore them. “A chemical communication system, like with ants, but a zillion times more complicated. Imagine being able to talk to people just by breathing—you wouldn’t have to say a word, you’d just know everything—”

“I can’t imagine you not saying a word,” said Marcus. “I think you’d go crazy first.”

“Ha-ha,” said Kira, rolling her eyes.

“So, how does it work, then?”

“Well, I don’t know what kinds of things they can say chemically—I catalogued at least twenty separate pheromones, but even at ten times that amount it would be an incredibly small vocabulary—but if, say, one of them was ‘I’m wounded,’ as soon as one soldier got wounded, all the others would instantly know about it, and they’d have a pretty good idea of where to find him. It’s a sense we don’t even have, like a social sense, and to him it’s constant and second nature. Can you imagine what it would be like to be cut off from that? He must feel more alone than . . .” She thought again about what he had said, calling humanity his parents; what was it like out there, the vast expanse of America lying empty and silent? “They’re alone, Marcus. That’s kind of tragic, don’t you think?”

“Good thing he has you to look out for him, then,” said Marcus. “I’d hate for the poor Partial to feel lonely.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Kira. “This is what I love to do, Marcus—you’re a medic too, I thought you’d understand why this is so cool. It’s not about Samm, it’s about—”

“Ah, so now you guys are on a first name basis, huh?” He tried to play it off like he was joking, but Kira could feel real emotion beneath it. She knew him too well. “I’m kidding, Kira. But seriously, he’s a Partial. Mankind’s greatest enemy, remember?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t know that they are anymore.”

“Is that what it’s trying to tell you?” He looked at Kira the way the Senators had. Like she was an idiot. “He’s alone and he’s chained up and that makes you feel sorry for him, but he tried to kill you—not just in the Break, but last week, in Manhattan, with a gun. He is an enemy soldier, and a prisoner of war, and if he got out of his chains who knows what he’d do, to you and to the entire city.”

“I know,” said Kira, “I know. But you haven’t talked to him—he doesn’t talk like a monster. He doesn’t . . . feel like a monster.”

“Two days ago he was your subject,” said Marcus, “an experiment. Two days before that he was some faceless enemy you were ready to kill and dismember for study. In two more days who knows what he’ll be? A friend?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“In three days he’ll be dead. I’ve known you forever, Kira, and I can see exactly where this is going: First you’ll feel sorry for it, and then you’ll get attached to it, and then when he dies it’s going to tear you apart because you think you have to save everybody. It’s like with the newborns—you feel personally responsible for every one that dies. The Partial is just a test subject, made worse because it’s smart enough to tell you exactly what you want to hear. All I’m saying is I just don’t think you should get too attached.”

“Too attached?” asked Kira. She felt her anger rising again. “How attached do you think we are?”

“Hold on,” said Marcus. “That is not what I meant at all.”

“It’s not?” asked Kira hotly. “Because it sure sounded like you were accusing me of something.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” said Marcus. “I’m just warning you—”

“Warning me?”

“That came out wrong.”

“Warning me about what?” demanded Kira. “Warning me not to make any friends you don’t approve of?”

“I’m warning you about yourself,” said Marcus. “You know you have a tendency to get caught up in these enormous dreams and then be crushed underneath when they fall down on you. You’re not satisfied with helping babies, you want to cure RM; you can’t just study a Partial, you have to, what? Make peace with them? Is that what Samm’s saying?”

“No, of course not,” said Kira. But even as she said it, she wasn’t sure. “I’m just saying that, whether or not I believe Samm, there’s more to them than anyone around here thinks. They rebelled because humans had oppressed them, so if we play nice with each other maybe . . . it’ll work this time. I don’t know.” She tried to sort out her thoughts. “I’m not saying we need to drop our defenses and forget everything that’s happened, just that they might not mean us harm anymore. And if they hold the key to curing RM, maybe peace is our only chance.” She looked at Marcus nervously, praying that he understood her.

“They rebelled and killed us,” Marcus repeated.

“The American colonies rebelled against England almost three hundred years ago today,” said Kira. “They got over it, and eventually they were best friends.”

“America didn’t release a virus that destroyed the world.”

“And maybe the Partials didn’t either,” said Kira. “Maybe there are a lot of things about the war we don’t know. All we talk about is what they did to us, but it can’t be that simple. If Samm’s telling the truth—”

“It all comes back to Samm, doesn’t it?” asked Marcus, shaking his head.

“What is this about, Marcus?” She turned to face him directly. “Are you jealous? I love you.” She held him with her eyes. “Please, try to understand what I’m saying.”

“You really love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then marry me.”

Kira’s eyes went wide. It was the last thing she expected him to say, now, here, in this situation. “I . . .”

“We’re young,” he said, “but not too young. You can live with me. I found that big house for you. For us. We can grow old there, and when you cure RM we can have a family there. But we don’t have to wait. We can be together right now.”

Kira looked at him, imagining his face beside her—in the evening when she went to sleep, in the morning when she woke up, always with her through anything and everything. It was what she had always wanted, ever since she and Marcus were children together watching stars on the roof of the school.

But it wasn’t that simple anymore.

She shook her head slowly, so slowly she could barely feel it, hoping maybe if it was slow enough Marcus wouldn’t see her saying no. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I can’t.”