Stung - By Bethany Wiggins Page 0,89

drained from his face. “How has he survived?”

I have no words.

“Get me medical backup, now!” Grayson orders, the clip against his mouth once more. “I have two injured teenagers in the pit, one on the verge of death.”

Verge of death. He means Bowen. I lie down on my side in spite of the bloody floor. I am too exhausted to keep sitting, too sore to move, and too scared to go on. My head pounds as if it’s filled with too much blood, and I fight the urge to dry heave again.

The doctor studies me with calculating eyes. “You’ve been kissing him, haven’t you. Kissing Dreyden?”

I stare at him, wondering why he’s asking me something so irrelevant at a time like this.

“Fiona,” Grayson says. “Kiss him.”

I blink at the doctor’s face, confused.

“Kiss him,” he says again, frantic. “Just do it!”

I stare at him and wonder how hard I hit my head. I’m obviously losing it.

“You still carry trace amounts of the vaccine. It has certain advantages in very small doses, certain healing properties,” Doctor Grayson calmly explains. “If you can pass more of them on to Dreyden, he might live.”

I push up onto my hands and knees and crawl over to Dreyden, pressing my uninjured hand against his cold cheek. “Dreyden?” He doesn’t move. I lean down and put my mouth against his slightly open mouth, but his lips are cool and hard. I kiss him anyway, and as my warm lips leave his, I’m certain it is the last time I will ever kiss him.

Feet scuffle and the doctor curses under his breath. I turn away from Bowen’s cold, still face to see what’s going on and gasp. I am seeing a ghost.

A man crosses the pool and falls to his knees beside Bowen. He presses his fingers against Bowen’s neck. “What happened?” he demands, looking at Dr. Grayson with accusing gray eyes. “Why is my brother in the pits?”

“He came to save her,” the doctor says, nodding toward me, eyes steel hard.

Duncan focuses on me, and I can hardly believe how much he looks like his younger brother. The only difference is his eyes—cold, flat gray instead of warm green. “You’re not dead yet? But I was told the Fec …” His eyes move to the slash on my arm, the spot where Arris’s knife wounded me. Ironically, the only spot on my body that doesn’t hurt. At all.

I look at my arm and gently prod the oozing knife wound. My skin is completely numb. Thin veins spiderweb away from a sickly purple gash, spreading up my entire arm and disappearing beneath my shirtsleeve.

The doctor is at my side, eyes panicked, staring at my arm. “You’ve been poisoned!” he blurts. And then he does three things that make me wonder if I’m hallucinating. First, he tears the tie from his neck and cinches it around my bicep so hard that I yelp. Next, he takes the knife from Dreyden’s belt and slashes it over Arris’s knife wound—and I don’t feel it, even a little bit. Last, he starts squeezing my arm like he’s wringing out a washcloth, forcing blood from the numb wound.

“Stop,” a calm, smooth voice commands. Hard-soled shoes click across the pool floor, and a man stops beside Doctor Grayson. Duncan Bowen jumps to his feet, spine ramrod straight, and salutes. The governor doesn’t seem to notice Duncan, doesn’t take his eyes from the doctor and me. “There’s nothing you can do to save her now,” he says, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“Get out of here or I will physically remove you, Jacoby.” The doctor gently releases my arm and stands, looking down at the governor. He’s a full head taller than the governor, has broad shoulders, and looks at least a decade younger.

The governor laughs and steps up to Grayson. “You think you can stop me?”

“I already have,” Grayson says, his body trembling as if he’s about to explode. “As soon as Mickelmoore heard that I found a cure and you’ve been covering it up, he has been rallying the militia to stand against your Inner Guard. They’re taking over control as we speak. They outnumber you five to one.”

“You have no proof that there is a cure,” the governor says.

Grayson smiles and, without taking his eyes from the governor, nods at me.

The governor takes a deep breath. He slowly removes his suit jacket and tosses it to the side of the pool. Without warning, his hand darts out and he grabs the doctor’s