Linked

Fifteen : Sea

First Jesse betrays me, now Corin. Is my heart a douchebag magnet? I really trusted him. Maybe that was my mistake. You would think I had learned from my mother that it is dangerous to trust anyone. My Link was supposed to be the exception though. Supposed to be.

"Come with me," The grey man grumbles. I go limp in his grip, letting him turn me and shove me back down the dock, slippery with ocean spray. Corin is nowhere to be seen. He must have run. The pain is difficult to conceal. I could link, scream at him until my brain hurts as much as my body, demand answers. On principle, I erect a wall of silence. If he's going to turn his back, so am I.

"Are we going to the Institutes?" I ask through gritted teeth. The thought makes me anxious. My palms sweat despite the cold. Will they send me back to my father and Dr Frenchwood, locked in one of those dark cargo carriages? Or will they come to Lovethorn for me? How will I stand the agony of being so far apart from Corin - it's like I've been dipped in boiling water.

"To the Authority Bureau," he says, sending chills creeping down my spine. "They will deal with this." The Authority Bureau exist to ensure my father's laws are being obeyed. Security guards are trained there and all report directly to President Denman. The head of the Bureau will have a notepad, which means within the hour my father will hear of my safe return. How severely will I be punished for stabbing Dr Frenchwood? My hopes soar at the idea it might be brushed under the carpet so word doesn't leak of the President's insane Mindlinker daughter. It would never make it to the newspapers but whispers are hard to stop. I consider the story they put out, my kidnapping. Then I think of Corin, sourly.

"You probably shouldn't have let my kidnapper walk away." I say to the man, as we near the stairs leading down to the rows of boats. "They would want to make an example of him."

To my surprise, he chuckles.

"You think I'm stupid? I saw you two at the motel this morning. It was very clear you were no victim."

The blood drains from my face. "What do you mean?"

He stops and stares at me, shaggy eyebrows raised. "Obviously you two are ... you know... romantic." He looks as awkward as he sounds, discussing such a notion with me. "And obviously for some reason the President must not approve, or you running away together wouldn't have made the news."

"Then why didn't you just let us be?"

"You're joking aren't you? I'd be a fool to let you slip away. I'll be a hero. There'll probably be a reward. I might even get clearance to stop working with cargo at the Institutes." His eyes take on a vacant quality as he imagines the possibilities wistfully. I fold my arms against the wind and wait for him to snap out of it. A seagull shrieks overhead.

I think I hear Corin but with the whistling wind and squawking seagulls it's hard to determine whether he's inside or outside my head.

* *

In my dream, I see mountains. Low, rolling curves sprouting lush greenery, ocean licking the base of a peculiar triple-pointed peak that splits into fat fingers stabbing the sky. A rainbow arches across its face, disappearing into the bush. The image stays for what must be an entire night-time, until it's burned into my conscience.

My eyes open reluctantly. The cabin swims into gloomy focus. Stained wooden walls, a gently swinging oil lamp dangling from the ceiling. The room is small, fitting only a table, bolted to the floor, with hard mouldy squabs running along each side. Corin is across from me, lying on the opposite squab, hidden by the table but breathing quietly, steadily. I push myself upright to peer out the little round window, crusted with salt splodges. It's drizzling outside. The mainland is barely visible through the morning fog. An open packet of saltine crackers remains on the tabletop from our little feast last night. I munch a couple, crunching quietly as possible so as not to wake Corin, but they are stale now so I needn't have worried. I don't know how I ever believed he would abandon me, even for a minute.