Pulse

But then he realized it was her hand, not his, that was creating a sense of pressure on his palm. She was holding his hand, not the other way around. He watched her face, saw the smallest beginning of a smile, and kissed her again.
    Faith was still a moment longer. Was she awake and enjoying the moment, or had it all been the unconnected movements of a girl in a coma? But then she pushed Dylan away and drew a great, bottomless breath, her eyes wide with a knowing she couldn’t express. Her breathing steadied, and she spoke in a leathery whisper.
    “I felt it.”
    “Sorry, I—I’m sorry,” Dylan stammered. He was overjoyed that she was awake, embarrassed that he’d kissed her while she was unconscious.
    Faith smiled, larger this time, and pulled him close by his white, V-neck T-shirt. This time it was her kissing him. When they parted she said it again.
    “I felt it.”
    “I felt it, too.”
    Faith shook her head gently. She wasn’t talking about the feel of his soft lips against hers. She was talking about something else. All at once Dylan understood what it was.
    “You felt a second pulse. Are you sure?”
    Faith nodded, smiling, and pulled him into a hug.
    “Pick me up again,” she said. “I like when you hold me.”
    Dylan lifted her off the bed and wished she weighed more than she did. She’d need time to gain back her strength.
    “My kisses are kind of amazing,” Dylan said. “Are you sure you felt a second pulse? Might have been me.”
    Faith thought about what a second pulse meant: nothing the world could throw at her could do any damage. She looked into Dylan’s eyes and wondered if that included a kiss. She took his hand and placed it on her neck, pressing his fingers firmly into the seam under her chin. And then she thought about her second pulse, which was growing stronger inside her. Dylan felt the first pulse, strong and steady, and right behind it, a shadow pulse, softer but definitely there.
    “Meredith is going to be very pleased,” he said.
    “Let’s not tell her just yet. Can we get back in bed?”
    Dylan shut the door to the room with his mind and let Faith float free out in front of him, laying her gently on the small bed. He turned and lay down beside her, and Faith placed her fingers on the soft part of his neck, searching for a pulse.
    A time of trouble was coming. It would test their devotion and push them to the very limits of their strength. But for the moment it was just the two of them alone, thinking only of each other at the edge of the battered world.
     
    A week later Faith was sitting on the very same cot on a bright, early morning. She was not alone, as the needle stabbed her over and over again. It had run two circles around her forearm already, and now they’d come to the hardest part.
    Faith was glad Glory was one of them, glad she’d made the move with the Drifters.
    “Come to the end of the chain,” Glory said. “Last part’s gonna hurt the most.”
    The needle was busy humming, doing its work on the palm side of Faith’s wrist. It was a sensitive area, like the skin on the back side of her legs.
    “It all hurts, Glory. That’s why I do it.”
    “You keep talking like that and it’ll get under your skin, do some real damage.”
    Without even realizing it, Faith had discovered her own weakness. The fact that the needle could penetrate her skin at all was a mystery. She had a second pulse. It should have been protecting her from anything that could harm her, but the needle was going in and out; the million little shocks of pain were real. She wondered if, in the end, the sharp tip of a knife would find its way to her heart.
    “Those other two, they were for different reasons, weren’t they?” Glory asked. It was the first time Glory had tattooed a part of Faith’s body that was in full view. A chain wound around Faith’s forearm, tangled with ivy. They’d come to the heavy part of the hammer, the metal ball. Glory kept applying the black color, running the needle around in circles and wiping away the excess ink.
    “Why didn’t you go to the State?” Faith asked, ignoring Glory’s question.
    Glory had a story of her own, but that was for another time. “They wouldn’t know what to do with me in there.”
    Faith laughed softly, wincing as Glory worked the needle. She stopped for a moment, turned off the machine, stared at Faith.
    “You gonna hold this hammer, you better be ready to use it.”
    “I’m ready,” Faith said, extending