Escape to Eden

by Rachel McClellan

  “Keep going. And fast,” Colt says, his voice low.

  I scoot forward, careful to keep my head low so it doesn’t hit the ceiling. Arm over arm, I army crawl. The walls smell like mold, a bitter earthy aura. This is the first time I’ve smelled something bad in this world. Sweat breaks across my forehead and in the small of my back. The tunnel seems like it will never end, and the tube suddenly seems tighter. When did that happen? My chest constricts and even my vision starts to blur.

  “Breathe normal,” Colt says. “Remember why you’re doing this.”

  It’s then that I realize my breaths have become shallow and rapid. I suck in deeply and think of Max. Several seconds pass before my lips stop tingling and the band around my chest loosens. I continue forward, focusing only on Max and not the small space.

  Behind me, Colt grunts as he tries to squeeze his bigger body through the tube. I can only imagine what he must be feeling.

  Just ahead the tunnel ends. “Colt?”

  He grunts and slides his body forward. “What?”

  “It’s a dead end.”

  “No, it can’t be. Bram wouldn’t have built an emergency exit without an actual exit. Look for a—”

  He’s interrupted by a sound that makes my teeth ache: sharp nails scraping against metal.

  “Go!” Colt says. “They’ve found us!”

  Using all my strength, I pull myself forward as quickly as possible. “What’s coming? Tell me,” I demand.

  “A Grater.”

  An image flashes in my mind: small, the size of a child, and human-like but with six-inch, razor-sharp claws on both hands and feet. They are fast and deadly. But I know its weakness. If I can get out.

  The sound of claws scurrying in the tunnel after us grows closer. Colt is behind me. He won’t stand a chance against it, not with how little he can move.

  I reach the end of the tunnel and feel around the edges of the wall blocking our path until I discover a small raised button. I push it and a circular hatch opens. I slide out and spin around to stick the upper half of my body back into the tunnel.

  “Grab my hands.” I reach in as far as possible, my feet coming off the floor.

  Colt scoots forward until he grabs me. I press my thighs against the wall and pull as hard as I can. A moment later he falls to the floor, the back of his black shirt covered in sweat.

  I peer into the tunnel. The Grater has his head up and his eyes are glowing a bright yellow. He has a hairless human face. No eyelashes or eyebrows, and on his head are chunks of scales in place of hair. I swallow hard and push Colt, who was in the process of standing up, out of the way.

  “Stay to the side,” I say and glance up and down the hall where the tunnel has ended. It’s empty, giving me nothing I can use as a weapon. I look back at the small metal door of the opening we just came through. It might work. I swing my leg up in a karate-like move and bring the foot of my heel down onto the door. It barely budges, but I’m pretty sure it’s left a nice bruise on my foot. I go to do it again, but Colt stops me. He takes hold of the door with his hands and tugs until it rips from the hinges.

  Ignoring his demands to tell him what it’s for, I take it from him, and press myself to the wall. My head pounds as I wait; the sound of scraping blades only seconds away. One shot at this. If I miss, it could prove fatal to us both.

  I stay focused on the opening as I wait for the Grater. It’s a terrifying task, remaining still when every part of me tells me to run. As soon as the Grater’s deadly fingernails appear, I swing the sharp edge of the door down with all my strength. It chips his black claws, but doesn’t break them.

  The Grater shrieks, a horrible high-pitched sound that hurts my ears. It takes a swipe at me with its other hand, but I dodge it, just barely, and counter by swinging the door again. This time I’m successful and slice the claws on his left hand completely off. The Grater howls again and withdraws back into the tunnel.

  “Come on!” Colt says and turns the other direction.

  We race down the hallway toward a door leading outside. I go for it, but Colt pulls me into a different hallway before I get there.

  “They’ll be waiting for us outside,” he says.

  He runs a little further until he pushes on a door. A long staircase heads up. I shake my head. “We can’t go up. We’ll be trapped.”

  “Trust me,” is all he says before he bounds up the stairs two at a time. I hesitate briefly before I hurry after him. How can I trust a boy who got me into this mess to begin with? Maybe there’s one of those bridges on the roof we can escape onto and disappear into another building. This thought comforts me, and I continue on, but by the time I reach the thirteenth floor my muscles are spent, and I’ve slowed down considerably.

  “Wouldn’t an elevator be faster?” I ask through shallow breaths. Maybe Anthony was right about rushing after Max. My body isn’t ready.

  “No elevator,” he says. “You’ve got to go faster. Any second now they’re going to realize where we went.”

  As if they heard him, a loud crash echoes below us, like someone’s taken a wrecking ball to the wall. I glance over the stair rail. A plume of dust and debris billows up the narrow stairway cavity. A moment later, a giant head appears and looks up at me. It’s the same beast I bested at the hospital. He’s what’s called a Titan. I duck back and move up the stairs, but I still can’t run any faster. There’s no strength left in my muscles after having hung on to that cable under the bridge yesterday.

  “Think of Max!” Colt says.

  I flinch at the sound of frustration in his voice and try to move faster. For a few minutes I’m able to go up three more flights of stairs at full speed, but then my legs give out. No matter how much I want them to move, my muscles are shot. Tears sting my eyes, and I curse my body for being weak.

  Colt sees me on my knees and comes back. I don’t have a chance to apologize before he’s picking me up and carrying me the rest of the way to the top. He’s puffing heavy breaths through puckered lips.

  To help balance my weight, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, much how Max had done with me earlier. My father had made me train with Max like this daily to build up my endurance. And to also train Max to hold on.

  But I’m not Max, and I find the position awkward.

  Colt wraps one arm around my waist to keep me from sliding off and uses the other to help propel him up the steps. I bury my head into his neck to prevent myself from seeing what’s coming. The Titan’s steps are loud, and I guess the stairs are too narrow for his body because all around it sounds like walls are caving in.

  “Almost there,” Colt says, taking a breath between each word.

  I tighten my grip against him and imagine a bridge on the rooftop. There’s got to be a bridge, some way for us to get away.

  Colt pushes open a door and rushes outside. I lift my head. It’s still dark but a rising orange and red fire against the horizon burns the night. I glance around and try not to panic. This rooftop is very different from the Institute’s. There’s no grass, only metal, and beyond its top there are no bridges.

  “What are we going to do?” I say. I try to wiggle free to see if there’s some way we can jump to the next building, but he holds me close.

  “Don’t let go,” Colt says. “I know you’re tired, but you have to hold on no matter what, okay?”

  I nod my head, putting my complete trust in him because I don’t know what else to do.

  The ground beneath us rumbles. I look toward the door, which is still open. The hair of the Titan’s head appears as he rounds the last corner to the top.

  “Go!” I say.

  Colt runs, although I don’t know where he thinks he’s going to go. The roof’s edge is only twenty feet away. His left hand tightens on my back hard enough that I gasp.

  Just as the Titan breaks through the door, sending twisted metal in all directions, Colt jumps. A breath catches in my lungs, and my stomach lurches into my chest as we fall from
the roof.

  Cold air rushes up at me, and I think this is the end. I shouldn’t have trusted Colt. Surprisingly I don’t think of Max, but of my father in the last few seconds of my life. Why didn’t he prepare me better? Maybe give me some pDNA injections, anything, so I could’ve better protected Max. Now I’ve failed because I’m normal.

  The thoughts are bitter, and I can taste them in my mouth. A horrible thing before you die.

  I close my eyes tight and wait for impact, but a tearing sound has me opening them back up. Colt’s shirt is ripping in the back until it falls off completely and something dark unfolds itself from his skin. At first I think it’s a parachute and I almost laugh I’m so happy, but when I see shiny, black, skin-like material expand fully, I forget that I’m falling to my death and instinctively push away. I regret it a moment later because now I’m falling even faster.

  I scream and reach for Colt, who’s in a dive position, two great bat-like wings arched high behind him. He catches my hand and pulls me to him. I scramble back into my holding position just in time for Colt to swoop upward, preventing us from hitting the ground.

  I’m stunned. Shocked. Jenna had called him a Noc, but I didn’t know what that was until now.

  Colt flies between shiny rectangular buildings until we’re several blocks away. He lands onto a roof of a smaller building, not near as high as the last one, for which I’m grateful. I expect the landing to be rough, but it is surprisingly gentle. He sets me down and steps away as his wings fold against his bare back.

  I stare at him, completely fascinated. The muscles in his chest and stomach just above his jean line are as well defined as the twin arches of his hipbones. I walk behind him to get a closer look at his back. He doesn’t move. The skin of his wings looks like leather, but shinier and so thin they would barely be noticeable under a shirt. I reach up and lightly touch the bones that border his wings. They are hard, more like wire than bone.

  “Are you done ogling me?” Colt asks and turns around to face me.

  “I’m not ogling,” I say, my face turning red. “I’m just curious. My father didn’t teach me about Nocs.”

  “That’s because we’re not supposed to exist. The government, or I should say the Institute, outlawed any kind of flying pDNA injections over thirty years ago. They saw it as a security threat.”

  “Then how are you here?”

  I suddenly become painfully aware of my legs, which are shaky and weak. The adrenaline from falling from the roof must be wearing off. I lower to the ground and sit down, my legs stretched in front of me.

  “I don’t know. My mom was considered a Noc but didn’t have these.” He points to his back. “She had the ability to sense vibrations in the earth. She always knew when someone was coming ahead of time.”

  “That’s how you knew about the attack at the apartment.”

  He nods. “And I have good hearing.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He was a Rhine, like that girl Spit at the club, but he died when I was two.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and wonder if he has inherited a Rhine’s ability to never tire or weaken. Their endurance is something I wish I had. “And I’m sorry about not being able to run back there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re exhausted. And out of shape. Staying at the Institute for weeks will do that to a person.” He turns away from me, but at the last second I notice his face tighten in pain like he’s stepped on a sharp pebble. He probably feels guilty, but I can’t bring myself to say anything to ease his pain. Not yet anyway.

  “Thank you,” I say instead. “For saving me.”

  I slide my foot back and forth along the metal rooftop. With darkness receding, I’m able to get a better view of the area. All around us are buildings just like this one, but farther apart from each other, not like when we were in the heart of the city. There are more trees dotting the sides of the street here, and, if I squint hard, I can see the edge of a massive forest just beyond the last row of buildings a few blocks over.

  Forests are everywhere, I remember, which is why they are so easy to hide in if you’re an Original. With the world’s population at such a decline, people slowly moved closer and closer to the cities, leaving nature to take over.

  “What are we doing up here?” I ask.

  Colt looks back at me like he wants to say something, but after a few seconds his gaze goes beyond me. “I live just below here. Anthony said if we ever get separated to come here. No one, not even Jenna, knows about it.”

  “So we wait,” I say.

  Colt comes and sits next to me, but not too close. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Are you cold?” I ask.

  He stares straight ahead. “Nope.”

  I stare too and shiver when a cool breeze blows across my skin. The sun rises slowly, covering the city in a fiery haze. Sunlight twinkles on the shiny metal of the buildings, reminding me of the ocean. A longing deep inside my chest makes me sigh.

  I risk a glance at Colt. He’s deep in thought, his eyes focused on the bleeding horizon. I think of his life and what it might’ve been like living in the city. No parents and having to hide who you truly are. Maybe I’m being too hard on him, I think. But then I think of Max, trapped, alone, and probably terrified. Because of Colt.

  Closing my eyes, I silence all thoughts and clear my mind. My father taught me how to do this to endure stressful times. “If your mind is clear, you can endure anything,” he’d say. “Push the pain away.” And that’s what I need to do right now until I know more about Max: push the pain away.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed, but the sun is fully on us when a scraping sound draws our attention. I turn around just as a small, square door opens on the roof floor. Anthony’s head appears. The muscles in his face relax when he sees us. “You’re here!”

  “Where else would we be?” Colt stands and goes over to him. With two hands, he easily pulls Anthony onto the roof.

  “I thought maybe the Institute captured you. I came back and saw Cleaners at the apartment. It looked like someone had destroyed it. What happened?” Anthony hands him a t-shirt as if he suspected he might be shirtless.

  I grimace at the name. Cleaners are the Institute’s cleanup crew when there’s been an “incident” they don’t want the public to know about. They’re soldier-like with a hunger for violence and they never question authority—a bad combination. I move to stand, but it takes me a minute on account of my weak and sore muscles.

  “The Institute came shortly after you left,” Colt says as he pulls the black shirt over his head and around his chest. “They came with a Grater.”

  “How did they find us?” Anthony asks.

  “I don’t know, but we should probably check everything on us for trackers. What did Bram tell you?”

  “Let’s go inside and we’ll discuss it.”

  I follow Colt and Anthony down the open hatch door and onto a ladder. Because my legs are shaky and weak, Colt stays to the side of the ladder and keeps a steady hand on me as I make my way down. Our eyes meet briefly, and I quickly glance away.

  “You didn’t get enough rest, did you?” Anthony asks me at the bottom.

  “I’ll be okay,” I say and walk into a large room with wooden paneled walls. It’s a stark contrast from Bram’s safe house. There are only a couple of rusty metal chairs lying on top of worn, brown carpet. There’s no kitchen, and off to my right is a single bathroom. But the biggest difference is what circles the room: weapons of all kinds, some I recognize and some I don’t.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  Colt brushes by me to get to the other side of the room. “This is my home.”

  Anthony grabs a small square-shaped device from off the wall. It looks familiar but I can’t quite place it from all of the other electronics my father has taught me about. Anthony scans it up and down me, saying, “The Institute doesn’t know about this place. In fact, they’ve condemned it. It’
s where we keep, well, weapons. It’s the perfect hiding spot.” The device in his hand beeps.

  “You’re clean,” Anthony says to me. He turns to Colt. “I wish you wouldn’t use your wings. They’re going to be looking for you now just as hard as Sage. You know how they love Nocs.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Colt says as Anthony scans him up and down. “It was either fly or let them take Sage again. Besides it was still dark, mostly, and only the Titan saw me. They might not believe what he saw and think I had a parachute or something.”

  “I get it. It was a risk you had to take. I just wish it didn’t have to happen.”

  All of a sudden the device beeps loudly, startling me.

  “Got one,” Anthony says. He swipes a small black sticker the size of a ladybug off the back of Colt’s belt and hurries over to an electronic box hanging on the wall. Very carefully, he presses it onto a white pad on the front of the box and touches a button on its top. The white face lights up.

  Colt growls. “I bet that Rhine at the club, Spit, snuck that on me when we left.”

  “Do you think they followed us here?” I ask, half tempted to climb back to the roof to check.

  “This box is a scrambler,” Anthony says. “Not only can it block different types of pulse transmitting within a quarter mile radius, but it can also send out false signals. No doubt the Institute has men scouring the area, but in about,” he looks back at the box, “thirty seconds, they will receive a signal that shows Colt moving away from here. The signal will lead them on a ghost chase for about a mile before it drops off.”

  “This is a lot of close calls,” I say, cringing.

  “It’s all worth it,” Anthony says. “You’re our priority.”

  His words twist inside me all sorts of wrong. Everyone around me is taking risks because they think I’m special. Real special. I can barely stand.