He returns to me and picks the Medi-bot up again. I can’t tear my eyes away from his wounds; my breath hitches. That thing really beat him.
He sighs as he looks at me. “You need a full scan, Leyla,” he says softly, his expression tender. “Everyone must be checked after an attack for injuries.”
My heart falters as I absorb his words. As I watch him, conflict clouds his gaze, shadowing his expression, and there’s a telltale grim set to his lips. And I realize . . .
He’s been in this situation more than once.
He offers his hand and I take it, so grateful for it as I rise to my feet; I squeeze it as the room spins a little but let go once it stops. He holds the Medi-bot in front of me, and a beam runs over my body. Within seconds, my diagnosis hovers in the air:
Concussion, two broken fingers in the left hand, a fractured rib, surface wounds. Treatment: Fingers to be protected with a splint—no realignment required; cleaning, sterilizing, and treatment of surface wounds; ice pack on affected rib; painkillers; rest.
My shoulders slump with relief. The concussion could’ve been so much worse.
The bot secures my fingers, binding them together. A quick jab from its needle and a painkiller is immediately coursing through my body.
Ari looks in on Jojo before walking over to the viewport, his bearing stiff as he sits. Bloodstains smear his shoulders, arms, and chest. I look down at the Medi-bot, walk over to him, and place it on the floor beside him.
I clear my throat. “You should use it, too. The Kabul . . . Is she secure?”
“Oscar carried out a full security sweep—twice. She’s secure.” He stares into space.
He’s far away somewhere. There’s something different about him, but there are so many other things I have to try and focus on right now.
I nod. “I need to check, see it for myself.”
Grabbing my brolly, I hold it out in front and open the door. Silence. Only the submarine’s usual thrum. I take a deep breath and edge into every room upstairs. Nothing. Nobody. I gasp and shudder as I catch sight of my reflection.
The robe fell open at some point, and my white nightdress is torn, crimson blotches everywhere. Even my face has scarlet smears across the cheek. Nausea sweeps over me. I avert my eyes.
I stumble away and creep down the staircase. My knuckles turn white as I grasp the brolly. The giant that Ari knifed is missing from the passageway, the corpse no longer where it fell. Though blood is still strewn about, there’s far less than before. Something moves on the edge of my vision. I gasp and swing around, pointing my brolly.
It’s just two Maid-bots working away. I didn’t even know the sub had them. The bots spray something on the walls and floor and continue cleaning the place up.
I peer into the moon pool room through the window. Nothing. I have Oscar confirm the number of heartbeats on board. Three. He could be mistaken, though. I move from room to room. No sign of anybody.
There’s only the engine room left to check. My finger hovers above the brolly’s tase button as I step inside.
The Anthropoid really is gone.
I tremble. The dread swells and rises, gathering force until it crashes into me, plunging me back into that deep chasm of terror and pain. The frenzy of the beast. The hatred. And Jojo . . . It’s too much. If only I’d been able to tase that thing before it hurt Jojo.
If only I’d locked the moon pool door.
I return upstairs. Ari remains in the viewport, gazing out. Clasping my hands tight, I swallow, fighting the tears that threaten to leak.
The next thing I know, Ari is walking over to me, his expression tight, his face all hard angles and concern. I look up at him. His eyes flicker.
He takes a step to close the gap between us. “Leyla—”
I take a step back. My shoulders rise and fall. My throat’s dry. “I need to go take care of something.” I leave the room without looking at him.
Once I’m in the bedroom, I close the door behind me and take deep breaths.
He’s wounded because of me. Jojo’s hurt because of me. I didn’t secure the moon pool door.
Ari was right when he said I have no idea.
I look down at all the blood on me. I have to get rid of it. I can’t stand it—not a second longer.
I become dizzy in the shower and have to sit to wash, and it all takes forever. Even on the gentlest setting, the spray hits my skin like a thousand giant needles. It burns my scalp. But I need to know I washed all the blood off.
When I’m finally dry and dressed, I walk over to the huge, circular porthole. The sub glides through the current. These waters are much wilder than anything I’ve ever known in the capital. All I see in the thick gloom is one horrific image after another. Holiday goers at the resort, drowning, terrified. Jojo’s bloodied body, whimpering in pain. Grandpa’s heart attack. The beast in the engine room. Papa, in God knows what state right now.
My heart is lodged in my throat. No amount of swallowing is easing the burden. Pull yourself together. The pressure in my chest intensifies. It’s as if I’m holding an ocean inside. It crashes against my lungs, squeezing, trying to crush me from the inside out. Don’t you dare; there’s no time for any nonsense.
I slump down in front of the porthole. Pain, fear, and sadness all grapple for position, eventually merging as one unbearable, burdensome victor.
The tears flow hard and fast, my body convulsing. I couldn’t help any of them.
At last, my sobs subside, and my breathing finally relaxes. I peer out into the shifting void.
Why did they do it? Why are they hell-bent on trying to eradicate humans? I shake my head. Why did it feel the need to hurt me like that? Why hurt Jojo? So much pain and destruction. Its frosty eyes flash before me and I shiver. And then there was something else. . . . And I don’t really know what it was, but it was there, etched in its face, beneath all the horror. As if some part of it knew it was so wrong to do what it was doing, and yet the anger wouldn’t let it stop. Where does that rage and hatred come from? Why did it—for one, brief moment—look at me with sympathy? Because it’s an evil abomination and can’t help itself? Or because of something else?
What’s going on?
And Ari. What did he mean by the truth not setting me free? And people believing everything they’re told? He’s keeping something from me. But I also feel safe around him. I shake my head. I honestly don’t know anything anymore. What was he going to do or say when he stepped toward me?
I picture his arms and chest. I wrap my arms around myself. The thought of a hug right now seems like the best thing in the world. A part of me wants to turn back. Go home to London. To Gramps. My heart flutters at the thought of him. Theo and Tabby—I already miss them so much. Turning around is such an absolutely comforting thought. Ahead is only uncertainty.
And Papa.
He needs me. I must keep it together, can’t go losing it now. I won’t give in until I’ve found him. He’s all right. He has to be.
I summon the Navigator. He appears, sporting a midnight-blue frock coat.
“Oscar, we’re still moving too slowly. What’s the situation with the propeller?”
“It is stable, my dear. However, it has been sabotaged, which is preventing it from operating at full capacity.”
The Anthropoids messed with the propeller. I stand, slowly pacing the room as I absorb his words. “How far away are we from our destination in King’s Lynn?”