Blacklisted (Young Adult Alien Huntress 2) - Page 44/47

I fed them both a vial of Onadyn.

They were slower to recover than their mother. And for a long while I didn’t think the boy would make it. Even with the drug, he was weak and helpless. More tears burned my eyelids.

No wonder Erik fought so hard for these people.

This was terrible. So terrible. So cruel.

These aliens were innocent. How could A.I.R. deny them Onadyn like this? How?

A family like this should not be punished for another’s sins. Innocent. Innocent. The word continually echoed through my mind. For so many years I’d been oblivious to this. Maybe I hadn’t known because I hadn’t wanted to know. Maybe the information simply wasn’t accessible to the average citizen.

That didn’t matter anymore.

Something had to be done.

I stayed at the apartment for over two hours, making sure the family was going to be okay. I let the mother—her name was Norenne—have all the vials. She carried four to her neighbor, who was in as bad shape as she had been.

The neighbor’s children never woke up, though.

When I left, I was brokenhearted, torn up, but more determined than I’d ever been in my life. I was going to save Erik and I was going to save these Outers. Shy away from conflict? Never again!

14

After I’d purchased a disposable holocamera and taken pictures of the—I gulped, remembering—Outer’s dead children, surely the most difficult thing I’d ever done, I walked to a payphone and dialed Shanel’s number. I expected to leave a message, but she answered on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice raspy with…tears? Sleep?

“God, I’m so glad you’re home,” I breathed with relief. There was a street nearby and I wanted to jump out of my skin every time I saw a car. A few homeless stumbled along the sidewalk to my left. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Camille? Is that you?”

“It’s me.”

“Sweet Jesus, I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear your voice. Things were going so great, you know, and then they caught us! They surprised us, and I didn’t know what to do. But you have to hang up,” she said urgently. “I think they’re tracking my calls. I think that’s the only reason they released me. I mean, I’m okay. I’m in trouble with my dad, but they—” She choked on a sob. “They have Silver locked up. They questioned me and then sent me home.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I told her. “I love you.”

“You, too.”

I disconnected. Shanel was safe, so that was one less worry. I only prayed A.I.R. hadn’t traced my call. Just in case, I walked around the corner and used a different payphone to call my parents.

“Meet me in front of the Ship as soon as possible,” I told them and hung up. I wanted to linger, talk to them, but couldn’t risk it. Quaking, I hitched a ride on the bus. Every unexpected noise, every person that looked at me, nearly sent me into a whirlwind of panic.

Once there, I waited in the shadows, pressed up against the building. My heart nearly skipped a beat when I saw my parents’ car. They pulled into the parking lot. I looked around, searching for any type of tail.

They didn’t have one. That I could see. You really going to do this?

Oh yeah. Sweating, trying to stay in the shadows, I inched toward their car. They were parked and about to get out. I rushed forward, opened the back door, and threw myself inside, staying as low as possible. I’d stuffed the camera in my pocket and it scratched at my stomach.

Seeing me, both of my parents gasped.

“Drive, Daddy.”

“Wh—”

“Drive!”

He gunned out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

My mom twisted and gazed down at me. “Camille, I don’t even know what to say to you.” Fright and relief infused my mother’s voice.

“Don’t look at me. Face forward. And watch for a tail.”

She obeyed, crying, “Oh, baby. Oh, baby, baby, baby. I’ve been so worried.”

I wanted so badly to hug her, but knew I couldn’t. My gaze flicked to my dad. Even from his profile, I could see that his expression was stern and angry. His hair looked a little grayer and his face a little more lined.

“Young lady,” were the first words out of his mouth. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Why is your hair blue? Why are you dressed like that? What’s going on? I’ve never had to worry about you before and suddenly that’s all I can do. A.I.R.? Onadyn?”

My mom reached back and grabbed on to my hand, squeezing. With her free hand, she wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was red and splotchy from crying. Her shirt was wrinkled at the side, as if she’d fisted the material one too many times.

Stay strong. “Have you looked into the Onadyn laws?” I asked. My legs were so weak I would have fallen if I’d been standing.

“No. There’s no need. We’re not getting involved.”

“I have pictures,” I said, reaching for the thin camera tucked in my pocket. “These Zi Karas are related to an Outer who committed a crime. They can’t get the supply of Onadyn they need. They’re dying. They’re—”

“Destroy the pictures,” my dad growled before I explained further. “We can’t have any evidence linking you to otherworlder criminals.”

“Daddy. Please. Just look.” I held the camera up and out, pressing the button that caused one of the photos to crystallize, becoming a hologram.

Without taking his gaze from the road, he shook his head. “I don’t want to see them. You are to do and say nothing that will incriminate you in any way.”

Defeat seemed to be closing in around me, but I pressed on. “Aliens died, Daddy. I tried to save them by taking them Onadyn. I broke the law. Does that make me a bad person in your eyes? A criminal deserving of prison?”

His hard features crumbled, which almost made me crumble. “I thought I taught you better than this,” he whispered brokenly. “I thought I taught you to put your own family first. Maybe I was a terrible parent. Maybe—”

“You’re a wonderful parent,” I said, cutting him off, “and I love you. But I’ve had my eyes opened. I can’t pretend people aren’t suffering. I can’t pretend there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“I don’t want to hear this. You’re my only daughter. I want you safe. Always.”

“Just hear me out. Please.” When he remained silent, I let the story pour from me. Every detail. I left nothing out this time. As I spoke, they paled. They cried.