Just a reminder: I will not be rewriting every single chapter to Tess's view (cause I really don't want to write about the parts that don't really concern her and stuff). So I'll just be picking several parts and express Tess's viewpoint.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend Trilogy or its characters. I have also used a quote from the Infinite Sea by Rick Yancey , which I obviously do not own either.
One year later
We wait in the shadows, silently watching the soldiers march around in the Lake Sector for plague victims. I can practically sense Day's anxiousness and fear. I don't have to ask to know what's bothering him. It's too obvious, really. He's scared that one of his family members has the plague.
He leans forward on the ledge, trying to catch the voices of the soldiers that entered his home. I wrap a steady hand around his arm. To let him know everything's okay. To let him know that he still has me.
I can see the silence is slowly killing Day from the inside. He's biting his lip. "No news is good news, right?" I ask, trying to ease the mood.
"Very funny," he shoots back sullenly. He goes on staring at the house, waiting for the soldiers to come back out. What's taking so long? I wonder to myself. It would only take a few minutes for them to check the three's blood and yet they've been inside for what seems like hours. Day glances at me worriedly after an eternity of staring at his home.
I shrug. "Maybe their reader's broken," I suggest. Please calm down Day.
We wait a little longer. "Something's wrong," he whispers. He sounds like a child that's afraid of the dark.
"You don't know that," I assure him, but we both know the cold and dark truth.
"Yes I do. What could possibly take this long?"
I open my mouth to say another slim possibility or some crazy theory but the door opens abruptly. The soldiers file out, expressionless, like they're dead bodies controlled by microchips. God, I need to stop reading those banned science fiction books Day gets me.
The last soldier takes out a canister and sprays an "X" on the door. And then he cuts it in have with a thick red line.
Day stands from his curled up stance. "I have to do something," he frets.
"Day, calm down. We still have time."
"You don't understand! You don't even have a family to care about!" My eyes widen with hurt as they fill with tears. I will not cry. I will not cry.
"I'm sorry," Day stutters and reaches to touch my shoulder.
I blink away tears and force myself into an expressionless face. "You're right," I say. "I don't have a family. But that doesn't mean I don't care about yours."
"I'm sorry," he repeats, pulling me into a hug.
The next day, I wake up early and take the Notes I was saving up for a book and head towards a butcher shop. An old, gray haired woman comes to the back door when I knock. "What do you want, child?" she asks with her hoarse voice. "We're not open yet." Her eyes are so black, they seem like they're boring into my forehead.
"I just wanted to ask if you had any pig blood left. I'll pay you." The woman steps back inside, and returns with a fresh bucket of blood and lips curled with disgust. Does she think I'm going to drink it or something?
"Thank you," I say politely and hand her five Notes. The woman's wrinkled palm closes tightly over the money.
"Don't come back here again," she orders. "We don't need street brats lining up here for blood."
I just shoot her a look and walk away, carrying the bucket of blood. "Tess! Where have you been?" Day demands. "I thought a soldier took you or something!" His eyes are filled with genuine worry.
"Well, I got you something for your disguise!" I say, presenting the bucket. Day's face is a mixture of delight and a little disgust. He thanks me and takes it, beginning to smear it over his limbs and stomach. He smells like rusted copper. He then takes a black can and sprays his white blond hair until its dark as midnight.
"How do I look?" he asks, turning his attention at me.
"Like you came back from the dead," I remark, looking at the blood and the dark circles under his eyes.
He smirks. "Good." Then his expression changes to that brotherly look of his. "We're going to meet at Union Square, okay? Wait for me."
I frown. "Why can't I come?"
"Because two trespassers are easier to catch than one," he says. I roll my eyes at that. He's probably said that same line about a hundred times. "See you in a few hours." He ducks off towards the hospital.
I watch him go before turning back and walking for the station. I slip through the crowd and blend in, since it's in the slums. I sit on the bench, regretful that I didn't bring a book. I should stop reading, since my eyesight has gotten worse, but I can't seem to stop.
I swing my legs back and forth like a child as I wait for the day to become dark. "Tess?" Someone asks me from behind. I jump from surprise. I haven't heard that voice in years. The last time I heard it was when he taught me how to play chess.
"Uncle Ezra?" I ask.
He breaks into a grin. His teeth are white against the brown scruffy beard. "So it is you! I haven't seen you around lately! How's your family?"
I blink at him. "I haven't heard from them in three years," I say.
"You ran away?" he asks, his bushy eyebrows knitting together.
"No, they kicked me out," I correct him.
"Micheal would never do that!" my uncle protests, referring to my father.
"It was mostly my mom."
Uncle Ezra mutters under his breath but I can hear him perfectly. "I'll teach that hag a lesson," he said. He sits down next to me. "So what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for a friend," I reply.
He nods and smiles softly, thinking of something else. "Remember when I used to throw you up in the air and catch you before you fell? You used to love flying." I do remember. And I did love to fly. I still do.
I just smile at him. I can't let those words tumble out. I can't cause a river of feelings to flow out.
Suddenly the soldiers stationed here are rushing towards the hospital. I can hear faint gunshots and alarms blaring. Why did you have to be so suicidal, Day? I see his figure running in the tunnel. I stand from the bench.
"What is it?" Uncle Ezra asks, concerned. I don't answer. My feet take off towards Day. God, is he limping? I run faster. My uncle follows me.
"Daniel!" I shout, trying to not give away his identity. Day's unconscious. I try to move him but he's so heavy. Uncle Ezra easily slings his body over his broad shoulder. "We can take him to my place," he offers.
"Okay," I whisper quietly.
I stop by Day's house to drop off some stuff Day stole. I knock. John opens the door, nervously looking over his shoulder to see if anyone's watching. "Hey Tess," he says softly.
"Here." I hand him the gift bundle, along with the remaining suppressants. "Who has the plague?" I whisper.
"Eden," he whispers back. "The rest of us are fine, for now. And Eden's going to be okay for a few more weeks. By the way, do you think you have any more clothes that my mother can wear? We're running out."
"I'll talk to Day about it. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Tell Day he's the stupidest, most suicidal, and best brother anyone could have. And next time, tell me before you let him break into a hospital."
"Okay," I say. John closes the door and I jog back to Ezra's house.
He greets me. And I notice that he has set up a chessboard on the kitchen table. "Wanna play?"
"Yeah," my eyes light up. When was the last time I've seen these? I remember me as a seven year old, playing with my uncle in the firelight. I've missed that beautiful wooden board. I've missed those gleaming ivory pieces on the chessboard. The stern king. The haughty queen. The noble knight. The pious bishop. And the game itself, the way each piece contributed its individual power to the whole. It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life. (A/N: This is the quote I used and I cannot take credit for it.)
The rain drums against the window. I make the first move. I slide the pawn forward- the battle has begun.
He has me in check. I search for possibilities of escape. But there are none. My uncle smiles. "Life is a game, Tess. You can win or lose." He moves his knight in an L shape and kills my king.
I stare at the board. The king is dead. The king is dead. But why can I not keep playing? I still have pawns, my queen, and a bishop. Except I have lost the game. And I don't know why.
Please review! I may or may not be able to update the next chapter on Sunday because I have three projects and an essay that are due next week.