“We’re getting closer,” Bayard says.
Closer.
I look forward again, and there’s nothing there.
DEADLINE: 31D, 15H, 42M
THE BURROWS
“WHAT’S THE REASON YOU’RE DOING THIS?” Bayard asks me. We’ve finally stopped to rest and eat, and my body is thankful for it.
“What do you mean?” I ask, studying his face while he chews.
“I’m not supposed to ask you questions, and I reckon it’s none of my business. But you’re pretty near the same age as my daughter, and if she was traipsing through the Burrows and in the Old World, well…” He looks down at the ground and then back at me. “I’d want to know everything I could as to why she was being so foolish.”
“You think it’s foolish?”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “Depends on the reason.”
I look away from his gaze, the warmth in the darkness of his eyes and the flickering torch too much for me to handle. I want nothing more than to tell him everything. No one except Xenith knows what I’m doing. No one except the two of us-and Kai-even know I’m alive. I should tell my story, right? I should share and let the people who matter know what I’m doing, so if I die…
“You don’t have to tell me,” Bayard says with a heavy sigh. “I get that it’s important.”
I shake my head. Of all the people I’ve met, I’m surprised myself, but I think I can tell Bayard. He’d understand it.
“You don’t know what it was like in the Compound,” I say. “It was perfect. I mean, perfect. And then one day, I looked around and I saw the deception. I didn’t want to see it, and I tried to ignore it but-”
“But you can’t unsee something.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment, and Bayard’s eyes darken. What has he seen in his life? “The Elders are evil. Everyone’s being lied to, and I want to help them.”
Bayard is quiet. “So you left to get help?”
I shrug. The only thing I can say is that I’m leaving for everyone there. It makes me feel less selfish. Because when I think about why I left, I know the reason is more than that. I’ll never be able to wipe away what the director-what my own father-did to Thorne. I’ll never stop feeling the pain, never undo his screams, and never stop wondering why. Why me. Why us. Why everyone.
“I shouldn’t talk about it. I don’t want to put anyone at risk,” I say.
There’s the fact that they experiment on their own people, want to control and change their own people. This plan they have to move them, change them. There’s the fact that they wanted to use me for something, and that everything I know about my whole life isn’t real. Maybe even Thorne and me.
That’s the part that feels the most desperate. I have to know if we’re real or manufactured-if our feelings, our love, is theirs or ours.
Bayard looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems. I doubt the people who love you want to lose you. I know I couldn’t lose my Faye. I’d have no life without my family.”
I look away from him toward the ground. I feel the same way, and that’s why I’m here. I need to save them, and selfishly, I need to know about Thorne. I have to know. “I just need to keep going.”
“Then let’s go.” Bayard groans as he stands and wipes some breadcrumbs from his beard. I get up too, reach for my pack, and we start off again, led by the unsteady light of the torch.
40 DAYS BEFORE ESCAPE
THE STARS ABOVE US provide the only light, and it’s unsteady, a deep contrast to the waves. Waves so calm that it makes me nervous, as if in the silence Xenith can hear my heart racing and the crashing of my thoughts. I dig my toes into the sand, but I can’t be reading this. It’s really real, the Old World, and everything else is false. They lied. Everyone’s been lying.
I crumple the pieces of paper in my hand before Xenith takes them away from me and straightens them out across his chest.
“This is really happening?”
Xenith nods, his expression grim. “I wouldn’t make it up. I told you there was a change coming.”
I stare at the paper. Ultimate Compliance. The Elders want to use the branding to make everyone in the Compound into some sort of machine. Some kind of human that follows directions, doesn’t think, doesn’t question anything, and is emotionless. I knew they were up to something with twins, but with everyone? They’ll strip them of their own thoughts and feelings and move them all to a new Compound. The blueprints are enormous and fortified, bigger and better than even this one. They’ll start making transfers in two months. They already have a list of people and families they want to move.
“They’ve mastered the way to make it so that no one questions. There’s already no free will, but this move will wipe away everyone completely. All traces of humanity and individuality-gone.”
I think on that, and the pieces click together. “They’ve already started using it,” I say quickly. Xenith looks at me. “My father. That explains the change in him. They’ve changed him into something for their own use. He was never so heartless before.”
I run my eyes over the list Xenith found of all the families set to move to the new Compound. People I grew up with, children I’ve taught during my placement, friends. The Bishop family is one of them-Sara, Kai, and Thorne. The only people I really love. My father has succeeded in taking Thorne away, just like he’d promised. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let them all be turned into whatever this is that the Elders are creating.
Xenith clears his throat. “There’s one more thing that you should know, Neely.” He pauses, and I look up at him. He hands me a new sheet of paper. My eyes scan it, reading the slanted handwriting.
Sara has mentioned that she’s noticed some potential effects from the twin branding. I shall examine that tomorrow and see what I discover.
“What is this?” I ask.
“My mom’s,” Xenith says. “She was the one who switched you at your birth. She monitored you for years, and then Thorne as well, until she died.”
I knew that Liv Taylor had switched us, me for Thorne’s twin sister, but I didn’t know she’d been watching us. Why would she keep tabs on us? “What was she looking for?”
“Not her. The Elders. She was trying to protect you.”
Protect us from the Elders. None of this makes any sense. I look back down at the paper.
Sara has reported back to me, and we believe them to be connected. They are small, but when one cried, the other cried. When one laughed, the other laughed. The full effects are entirely undeveloped unless I can get closer, but I suspect them to have some emotional alteration because of the branding. The effects will only increaseas they age unless it can be undone sooner. If my guess is true, then it’s not safe for either of them. Especially her. Amelia knew the plans they had for Neely from the beginning, and if they discovered this truth now, they would take her. I will proceed in keeping all Amelia’s secrets for Neely.
Liv Taylor knew that we were connected. “What secrets did my mother have?”
Xenith sighs heavily. “I don’t know. I swear. We never talked about Amelia.”
My eyes drift back to the page.
If Neely and Thorne are emotionally drawn to each other because of the branding, there is no indication yet of how deep that emotional connection goes or how it should impact their lives together and separately. I believe it to be part of the reason they are always together, as whatever they feel draws them to each other. Should my predictions be correct, then they may never be their own people. The branding caused that, and I caused the branding by lying about her birth and testing. I hope I do not regret my decisions.
I inhale. My head is spinning. Liv Taylor, even when we were kids, thought Thorne and I were so close because of the branding. She died when we were eight, but even back then she suspected we were something. If what she’s saying is real, then it means that Thorne may not actually love me, that our feelings may not be genuine and may instead be some so
rt of experiment. I close my eyes. That can’t be true. He’s the one sure thing I have. If he’s not real, then what is?
“You okay?” Xenith asks.
My eyes narrow in on him. “This is what you meant the other day when you said there was a difference between me loving him and the branding.”
“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry, Neely, but you had to know. You said that you thought the branding changed you, and it did. You said you thought the Elders had a plan for you, for everyone, and they do.”
Somehow I’m the center of all of this. “What does it mean?”
“It means you have to leave. If you want help, then you have to find it. Save yourself; save everyone. There’s a group who can help you-the Mavericks. I’ll plan it all out for you.”
A group in the Old World. He’s mentioned them before, but how does he know? How am I supposed to trust what he’s saying? If there was someone with the power to stop the Elders, then why haven’t they?
“I’m just supposed to believe all of this and go? I don’t know anything about these people.”
“The Mavericks have been fighting the Elders since the Preservation, since the walls of the first Compound were built. They’re the only ones.”
“Why should I trust them?”
“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks. I nod, afraid to say aloud that I do. “Then you trust them. I’m one of them. My whole family has been. They originated with my family nearly three hundred years ago.”
I cross my arms around my chest. “Then why can’t you go?”
“Come on, Neely,” Xenith says. He reaches out to me but changes his mind and steps closer instead. “You came to me. You said you thought they were hurting everyone, and they are. You wanted out of this place. You wanted to stop your father, to keep Thorne and everyone else safe. That’s all you. It’s not me. They aren’t the people I care about. Besides, you know their plan, and if you’re here, you can’t run from it.” He pauses, tosses his hands up in the air. “I’m giving you what you wanted. If you want to be freed of them, to save everyone, and learn the truth, then you have to go.”
From here, I can see the indentation of his jawline and his strong chin. His eyes are wide, dark blue like the ocean after a storm. I take a breath.
“It’s only you who can go, Neely. For more reasons than you know.” The way he says it seems almost as if he’s pleading with me. He wants me to go.
“You said there’s a plan,” I say.
“There’s a spot where the barrier is open.” His eyes dance excitedly. “I have maps, records that my family has tracked for years. All we have to do is make sure you’re there at the right time and smuggle you out.” That’s all. He makes it sound so simple.
He looks out over the ocean, and I take the opportunity to study his face in the darkness. The arch of his nose, the shape of his lips as he speaks. It’s hard not to look at him when he has such authority over things. “I have a route planned for you. The people of the Old World have set up camps. They have ways of communicating, systems for trade, networks of people. It’s the only way you have a chance,” he says, and his eyes meet mine. “You just have to follow the route to the Mavericks.”
He’s completely serious. His gaze doesn’t falter, doesn’t mock. He’s waiting for my response. What can I say? He’s got everything figured out. He’s got maps and lists and names. He’s got me. He’ll smuggle me out, send me on my way, and…wait.
“There’s one problem,” I say.
What’s that?”
“How will I get out? I mean, I’m the director’s daughter. I can’t just disappear.”
Xenith crosses his arms over his chest, and his blue eyes search me, find something in my soul. I can feel them latch on there. I know that’s an image that will never leave me, a feeling that will stay, somehow.
“You won’t disappear. You’ll die.”
I suck in air. “What?” My voice is an octave higher than normal.
“Everyone in this Compound will think Cornelia Ambrose is dead.”
“How?”
He doesn’t blink. “We’ll fake your death.”
I don’t respond. My brain is trying to absorb everything and failing. He keeps talking.
“You’ll stay hidden until the time is right for you to leave. No one will know anything except you and me. And, well, I’ll probably need some help from someone to help us pull this off. Not Thorne. Maybe Kai, since he’s a Healer. That can be of service to us.” His voice hardens. “Every person in this hell will believe you died-and then you’ll save them all. And yourself.”
My hands shake in about the same way as my stomach does. Thorne would mourn me. I would be dead. My remains would be thrown into the ocean, and a small, empty vase would sit in someone’s house to remind them. I can’t possibly do that to them. I can’t let them suffer; I can’t keep this from them. But it won’t matter if they all get transferred. I’d never see Thorne again anyway. At least this way there’s hope.
“Do you really think it will work?” I ask. The voice that comes out doesn’t sound completely like mine.
“Yes.”
I inhale. A deep, cool breathe of air. Die. I can die and leave. It’s the only way.
His hand reaches out to cover mine. “I’ve been planning it, Neely. I wouldn’t risk you unless I was sure” he says. “You don’t have to do it. Any of it. You can stay here. You can change your mind right now.”
I close my eyes.
I could change my mind. Right now.
I have an out, this one last chance to stay. To go home to Thorne and pretend like this never happened. To have a life here with Sara and Kai and Thorne. To walk by the ocean and not think about what could be beyond it. To live. To love. To be content. But I can’t do that. How can I do that when it’s only temporary? Only days until I lose them all?
I nod. Xenith smiles, really smiles. I’ve never seen him really smile. It lights up the night sky, and it almost- almost-makes my heart flutter. I shake away the feeling. This is a not a time to have a fluttering heart. Not where he’s concerned.
He claps his hands together. “Then let’s plan your death.”
DEADLINE: 31D, 14H, 20M
THE BURROWS
SOMETIMES THE BURROWS smell like death. Or how I imagine death would smell. It’s only a moment, fleeting but powerful, and it comes along when I don’t expect the pungent scent of something rotten.
Bayard whistles while we walk. It’s a pretty tune, soft and melodic, repetitive. It echoes off the Burrow walls and reminds me of the ocean. The way the waves sound when they wash in and out of the shore on summer nights when the air is crisp. Will I ever see the ocean again? Will I ever feel the breeze or walk through the tide or see the sun rise over the endless blues?
Bayard whistles a high note that gets stuck somewhere in his throat and cracks. He coughs and stumbles. I reach out to steady him.
“You okay?”
“It’s a little warm,” he says quickly. “Chokes me up.”
“It’s not a race,” I say.
He looks at me, sweat building on his brow. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I mutter, because I only have thirty more days until the transfers start happening at the Compound. And less time than that to find the Mavericks, to accomplish my goal.
DEADLINE: 30D, 13H, 40M
THE BURROWS
LESS THAN AN HOUR and I will feel the sun again. I will be free from this darkness. Leaving is scary, having to face what is beyond and above, but never getting out of the shadows is inconceivable. Like I was better off dead.
The air is different on this side of the Burrows, almost thinner so it’s harder to breathe. The tunnel seems narrower and darker. It definitely feels hotter. I’m uncertain if it’s real or if it’s all in my head. Much like the rest of my life. But the scent is different, too. Not as rancid and musty. There’s something odd that burns my nose and makes my throat itch.
“What’s that smell?” I ask. My head is
pounding, my stomach is churning, and my nose is on fire. The air is thick. Surely, Bayard feels it, too.
“We’re almost there,” he says.
“Do you smell it?” I ask as the scent gets stronger. It’s almost as if we’re walking into a pit of rotten eggs. I hold my breath, air filling up my lungs, and try not to breathe in until I have to again.
Bayard never answers.
I can see the end. This round flow of light burns into the darkness and imprints on the ground. I want to race toward it, but a churning grips my stomach.
“Bayard…” I start. I stop walking and bend over. The tunnel is spinning. I crouch against a wall and use a hand to support me.
“Neely,” Bayard says. He gasps in sharp breaths next to my ear. The rancid smell around us fills my nostrils, and my fingers hurt from the pressure of leaning into the wall. Then, the air gets thicker, like smoke.
I start to ask Bayard a question when my stomach churns and vomit rushes out instead of words. It splashes off the ground, and I groan. The piece of cement under my fingernails chips off in a large chunk and falls onto the floor just as a scream echoes down the tunnel-someone else’s scream, dripping with pain. It rushes toward us with the sound of feet and more screams. It all happens in seconds, but it feels like my deadline has passed three times over.
“What is it?” I ask.
Bayard coughs again, and I see the worry in his eyes. “They’re all dead.”
A heavy weight sits in my chest. “How are they dead? What’s happening?”
He considers me, like he wants to say something else. His eyes get glassy with tears, and he blinks them away. “I have to get you out. Run, Neely.”
The smoke chokes me, drenching me like Thorne’s clothes after the fishermen burn off the unused bits from the day’s catches. But even those smells couldn’t prepare me for this one. The scent is nauseating and sweet, yet rancid, and I can almost taste it on my tongue. Cries of pain and panic, screams of names blend together around me, and Bayard yanks my hand and pulls me along, abandoning the torch. We run. I glance over my shoulder as we go, and that’s when I see a faint glowing light coming from behind us.
Follow Me Through Darkness Page 4