“How did—”
“We found your wipe board in the hallway outside the air plant. I remembered the names from our discussion with Bubba Boom.”
“But you don’t have any proof they’re involved. Just his suspicions.”
“Doesn’t matter. There could be another explosion or at tempt to get to Logan or you.”
“Me? Why would they—”
“To prevent you from discovering any more surprises. They’re still reeling from the fact we’re in a big ship and we have all this extra room to spread out.”
Good thing I’d kept the bubble monster to myself.
Anne-Jade then asked me how I had gotten to the air plant so fast. “Did someone ask you to meet there?”
“No.” I explained about leaving Riley’s, but omitted the fact I had been going to find her. Any chance to discover what Ivie and Kadar had been up to had been ruined. And if they had been working with anyone, it would be impossible to find out now.
“A lucky coincidence,” Anne-Jade said. She smoothed Logan’s hair. “By the time the fire response team arrived they could only go a few meters into the plant. If you hadn’t dragged Logan closer…”
“Who pulled us out?”
“Bubba Boom carried you and Hank from maintenance grabbed Logan.”
“How’s the plant?”
“Bad. Smoke spread throughout Inside and made a bunch of people sick. Half the air filters are burnt to a crisp. The air workers are rigging up a temporary cleaning system, but it won’t last long. When you’re feeling better, they’re going to need you to help install filters in the air ducts. It’s another temporary measure.”
Logan lifted his mask again. “Plant fire also…a distraction.”
“And a lure to get you in harm’s way,” Anne-Jade said.
“No. A distraction from…computer.”
Dread twisted and I wished I had stayed in my bed. “What’s wrong with the computer?”
“Compromised.”
My chest felt as if my body had gotten stuck in a tight pipe. “How bad?”
“Don’t know…I need to…see.”
I considered. Besides the burning from the smoke, my vision hadn’t been affected by the heat. “Logan, was there an explosion in the air plant before the fire?”
“No. Light exploded from—” Another coughing fit seized him. “From…the computer monitor. It burned…my eyes.”
Anne-Jade and I shared a horrified look.
“Who could…?” I couldn’t even say the words.
“I could,” Logan said.
“Who else?” his sister demanded.
“A few…of the Travas. Maybe Riley.” He drew on the mask for a few breaths. “Domotor. Trella’s father.”
“Nolan’s been fertilizer for over fifteen centiweeks,” I said, dismissing him.
“According to…Karla Trava.” He shrugged. “She didn’t recycle you—”
“We don’t know that for sure.” I squelched any and all hope. It was ludicrous. “Besides, he would have revealed himself after the rebellion.”
Another shrug. I mulled over his list. Not Riley and I doubted Domotor, so that left the Travas. “Are there any working computers in Sector D4?”
Anne-Jade scowled at me. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“We disabled them,” Logan said.
“Could they have hooked them back up?” And before Anne-Jade could snap at me, I added, “They don’t have anything else to do. And you and Logan made a number of amazing devices just from recycled parts so it’s a valid question.”
She scratched her arm absently. “I guess it’s possible. I’ll have a team go in and check.” Huffing in annoyance, she slid her hand under her sleeve and rubbed harder.
Logan reached out blindly and touched her arm. “Stop it. Doctor Lamont said…to leave it…alone or it’ll get infected.”
“But it itches,” she said between gritted teeth.
“What happened?” I asked her.
She pushed up her sleeve, revealing white bandages like the ones on Logan and my arms. “I donated skin so the Doctor could grow my brother a new coat.”
Logan smiled. “I’m covered with girl germs…don’t tell Riley.”
“Maybe you’ll be smarter now,” she quipped. “I’d like to think you will appreciate having a sister more, but I doubt it.”
I remembered he had said he had been burned on over fifty percent of his body. “He needed skin grafts from you to live. Didn’t he?”
“Yes. I matched his skin type, which doesn’t always happen with siblings.”
Glancing at my own bandaged arms, I wondered how badly I had been burned. I met Anne-Jade’s steady gaze.
“You weren’t as bad as Logan, but you needed skin grafts to survive as well,” she said.
She shifted her stance as if challenging me to ask her who donated skin cells for me; either that or she prepared for a fight. I didn’t have the energy to deal with either so I said goodbye and shuffled back to my bed.
The effort to visit Logan had exhausted me. Grateful for the flow of clean air, I inhaled large lung-filling breaths from my mask. Funny how I had taken something as vital as breathing for granted—not paying it one bit of attention until it had become a problem.