Follow Me Through Darkness

by Danielle Ellison

Thorne closes his eyes tightly. A smile spreads across his face like he knows I’m watching him. I close my eyes, too. The words are all jumbled in my head because there’s so much I could wish for.

  For all of this to be a dream. For me to not have to leave soon. For another way. For Thorne to come with me. For everything to go according to plan.

  I don’t wish for any of those things.

  When I open my eyes, Thorne is smiling down at me. His warm caramel eyes are bright in the darkness, and a smile plays on his lips. There’s this joy radiating from him that completely overtakes any of my own emotions, so overwhelming I’m tempted to let it consume me.

  “What did you wish for?” he asks me.

  I shake my head. “Isn’t it tradition that you can’t tell wishes?”

  “That’s only for birthdays. They have more power if you speak them.”

  I laugh. “I don’t want to risk mine not coming true.”

  “You won’t.”

  “What did you wish?” I ask, changing the subject from me. I don’t know how to tell him my wish.

  Thorne stretches his lean, tall body without his hand leaving mine. The movement is so swift and graceful. How did he end up being so good?

  “I shouldn’t tell you…”

  “Because you don’t want to risk it? I told you,” I joke.

  He shakes his head. “I won’t be risking anything. I’m not worried because I already have you,” he says, locking eyes with me.

  My heart slows down and speeds up at once. He captivates me, and his emotions run through the branding, all lust and joy and passion. I feel my own guilt bubbling to the surface, but I hide it away as much as possible.

  I’m not sure who moves first, him or me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the feel of his lips on mine. Fire moves through me when we kiss, rushing over me like waves. His hand runs through my hair and over my skin, and I lean in so he’s closer to me. The branding is burning through my body while our mouths are entwined.

  I steal a glance at the sky through half-closed eyes. I take back my wish, and I wish for him instead-forever.

  But I don’t mean it as much I as should.

  I didn’t wish for him the first time. I wished for the truth, for Liv Taylor to be wrong, for the branding not to be the reason we are connected. I wished for a life with no branding. A life that’s completely my own. Even if it means that he’s not connected to me.

  DEADLINE: 8D, 8H, 34M

  MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS

  THORNE’S HAND IS connected to mine as we follow the agents into another room. This one is deeper underground, and when Agent Carrigan flips on the light, it’s a gray stone, small and cold, with a large machine in the middle of it that we can see through some plastic framing.

  My head is spinning from all the information, from the idea that my whole life really was manipulated. That I died a few days ago and didn’t even know it. That I’m really here. I don’t want to admit I feel a little scared of what else I’m going to learn. Thorne lets go of my hand and sits next to Mitchell as he explains to him the way the computer works. Bane pulls up some more of those electronic files. A picture of an older man, balding and no smile, appears. Some more documents with the word “Unification.”

  Agent Bane clears his throat. He’s all hard edges and angles and facts, even in the minutes I’ve known him. “There was a founding scientist, Leonard Taylor, who didn’t agree with the Elders. After starting the Preservation, he learned he couldn’t stop the branding, but he decided he could counter it. The Mavericks were started so we could establish Unification-the destruction of the Compounds, the salvation of the people, and their reintegration into a new life.”

  A new life. It sounds so easy when he says it that way. An ache burrows in my chest. I want a new life, a new chance to live it. Freedom. That’s why we’re here, but we can never have it.

  “Part of this allows us to remove the branding so that everyone can fully integrate into society,” Carrigan adds. She points toward the machine. “It’s a laser that removes the ink and the effect.”

  My ears are burning. “How do you do it?”

  “It’s something we’ve mastered. It’s only ink, the branding, but they lace the ink with a drug,” she says. I watch as a video plays, showing the ink being mixed with some clear liquid, like water, but the ink turns darker.

  “They insert it into your skin, like a tattoo,” Agent Handler says,. “Everyone we’ve removed it from has behaved normally, once the drug clear from their systems. They ask questions and have a desire for answers. There are no noticeable side effects.”

  It’s amazing that they can do that, return us all to the way we were meant to be.

  “Giving people back their free will to live normal lives is one of the only things we can do,” Mitchell adds.

  This is what I’ve wanted for a long time, and it’s totally possible. Just not for me. That feeling is a sinking pit I could fall into. I can never be unbranded, never be my own. The only thing I’ve ever wanted can never happen.

  “That’s why this news of the new Ultimate Compliance is alarming,” says Agent Mitchell. I notice for the first time that his eyes match his hair, both dark shades of brown. “This machine was created with the Preservation. If the Elders are changing the way the branding works, we may never get to save them.”

  What would the Elders do with the people they make serve them? What’s the purpose? Why have they been taking down their own Compounds throughout history? Maybe they’ve changed their minds. Or they have found a way to make something better.

  “Do you think they could’ve been experimenting with this on my father?” I ask.

  The three agents look at each other. “It’s likely, especially considering how much they want what your family has,” Mitchell says.

  “So it’s true then,” I whisper.

  Thorne meets my gaze from across the small room. No wonder my father became someone else so quickly. He hasn’t been the man who gave me the teddy bear when I was two years old, when he found out I was his. One day he came home and was horrible and blind, fueled by hatred and so unlike him. So unlike the man Sara said he used to be, the one I’d known.

  They want me. They need me.

  The Elders would burn down the Burrows and send Cleaners to peaceful camps. They would track us here and try to stop me. They would do anything.

  The Elders will always look for me. I will always be branded.

  If they succeed in the new Compound, everyone will be thoughtless, mindless, trapped in the darkness. No one will ever know the truth. They’ve already stopped people’s curiosity, but it’s as if the Elders want everyone to be machines.

  Maybe no one can ever have peace. Ever be free of them.

  Thorne reaches out to me through our connection, and I look up at him. Tears burn at my eyelids, but I won’t let them come. Not now. Even though the thought of it is terrifying me. They can’t get Thorne, and they can’t change the branding.

  I have to stop them, to prevent everyone I know and love from being altered. That’s what matters. And then we can get rid of the Elders forever. It’s the only way to live.

  “That’s enough. We can all talk later,” Handler says. He opens the door for us, and we step out. He pauses, looks back at Carrigan. “How’s the layout team coming together?”

  Carrigan shrugs, unsure. “Difficult. The insider information has been helpful, but this Compound’s barriers are still presenting a problem. We could only figure out how to shut the barriers off long enough to break them if we had access from the inside. We need some kind of power redirection. That should disable the barrier alarms for enough time.”

  “We can’t get inside until they’re down,” Handler says. He rests a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have to find a way.”

  I study all the faces as we exit the room. No one looks up at us this time, no one watches us go. It’s almost as if, in less than an hour, we’re already part of them.

  “
What was your plan before?” I ask Handler when we’re in the elevator again.

  “The same as usual,” he says. “We’ve been planning to infiltrate your Compound for months. There are just a few kinks before we can go. We need to act faster now, before the transfer starts.”

  I exchange a look with Thorne and then watch the numbers go up in the elevator, starting from two. Five. Six. Seven. We’re so close to all of this that I don’t know what to say. All they need is a redirection of power to disable the barrier.

  Eight. Nine. Ten.

  “Can you be ready before the Elders want to move us?” Thorne asks Handler.

  A redirection. Something that causes all the power in the Compound to shift.

  Eleven. Twelve.

  “It’s going to be tight, but we’re almost there. We’re only missing a few pieces,” Agent Handler says. “We find them and we’re in.”

  Redirection.

  Thirteen. Fourteen.

  “I’ll help you,” Thorne says. He looks at me. Redirection. His eyes are warm, sparked with hopefulness.

  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

  “Me too,” I say.

  Agent Handler smiles. “We’re glad to have you.”

  There has to be something…

  The light in the elevator flickers, and Thorne reaches out to me. His hand brushes mine, and a surge rushes through the branding.

  I freeze and look up at Handler. “I think I know a way to take down the barriers,” I say.

  Eighteen.

  The doors chime open.

  2 MINUTES BEFORE ESCAPE

  THERE’S A CRACK, and my container is open, light pouring into the darkness.

  For a minute, I let myself believe it’s my father. But he’s home asleep. It’s not him. When my walls fall down, I hug my pack to my chest. Just knowing there’s a knife there is reassuring, even though I never want to use it. There’s a man staring back at me in a green uniform. He’s got a flashlight and a smile.

  “Thought you’d want to move around. It’s a couple hours until the beach. That’s where the Burrows are.”

  He has the strangest accent. He says around like “ahrand” and hours like “ahr.” He’s smiling, though, and he has a light.

  “Water?” the guy asks me.

  I shake my head. His face is round and chubby and red, but he’s not a large man. His shirt has a white tag. His name is George. I open my bag for a second, just to make sure everything’s there. Tucked deep inside is the map, under some food and water, and then my eye catches something new. Xenith’s copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. There’s a page marked. I don’t have to look at it to know what it is.

  “That’s a good book,” George says.

  I smile. “Where are you from, George?” I ask.

  He doesn’t get to answer. We both bounce as the truck jolts forward. There’s a small bump, which I’m guessing to be the fence. I look down at my watch and push the button. Forty days left to save everyone.

  DEADLINE: 6D, 15H, 53M

  MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS

  EVERYONE PULLS US in separate directions when we step off the elevator. For the last two days, Thorne and I have been consulted in every aspect of the infiltration. I stayed up all of one night memorizing the entrance plan, since I figured out how to redirect the power supply.

  Sleep hasn’t been my friend lately anyway; every time I close my eyes, I am plagued with images. Usually failed attempts at this plan, where I watch everyone die because of a miscalculation Thorne and I made. Where I watch everyone lose their minds because of the Elders. Thorne says I’m too worried, but I’m concerned that he’s not worried enough.

  “Neely! You’re here. Good.” Carrigan moves around the glass room, which they call the Hub. Her heels are yellow today, just like her fingernails. She pulls up a screenshot on the computer. “What do you think of this?”

  I scan the blueprint of the Compound, marked up with Xs to indicate where the Mavericks will break off to gather the people. Carrigan and Bane have covered all the basics-the center, the outskirts, and each area of homes separated into divisions. Fifty people are involved, including us. Fifty people to save more than seven-hundred. They haven’t accounted for the Troopers.

  “Move people here and here,” I say, pointing to locations on the screen. “And line more along the beach. Areas three and four can combine to get area five since it’s small.”

  Carrigan squeals as she makes the changes. “That’s so brilliant. You are made for this.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Oh, I do. And you are. Not everyone can develop a strategy like this in two days. We’ve been at this for years.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Six years. I’ve been with Handler since I was Mitchell’s age. Fourteen.” She clicks PRINT on the screenshot. The sound of the printer whirrs around the Hub. “This is my family. Handler’s been like a father to me. Mitchell is my annoying little brother, and Bane is-”

  “This is good,” Mitchell yells. He walks in with the printout in his hands. His hair is blue today, sticking out at the top of his head. “This is really good.”

  She points to me, and Mitchell looks in my direction. He nods his head, surprised, but doesn’t say anything else.

  “How’s it going?” Carrigan asks.

  Before Mitchell can answer, Bane pokes his head in the Hub door. At the sight of Bane, Carrigan shuffles and looks away. Mitchell smiles at her, and her face gets red.

  “Handler needs you, Neely. He’s in the office. Mitch, come on.” I notice the look Bane gives to Carrigan before he leaves. Mitchell laughs and shakes his head before he follows.

  She meets my gaze for a moment. “You should go,” she says. She looks back at the paper. “Handler’s waiting.”

  DEADLINE: 6D, 15H, 14M

  MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS

  HANDLER, BANE, MITCHELL, and Thorne look at me when I open the door. They’re huddled around a table, maps and blueprints scattered across it. Thorne smiles at me, tension disappearing from his face.

  “Neely, great.” Handler smiles. “Thorne says you’ll be the expert on this area.”

  I close the door and join them around the table. I only have to glance down to see what they are staring at. The blueprint is too large, too pointed, too well- designed for me not to know.

  “Headquarters,” I say softly. “What is this for?”

  All four men exchange glances. Much to my surprise, Thorne is the one who explains it. “You know your idea to redirect the power?”

  I take a breath and nod. If we can get a large power source to operate when the barrier is already open, like at night when we’re getting a shipment, then we stall it long enough to infiltrate. And the only thing with that much power is surrounded in windows and white walls, located under headquarters.

  “We need to make him turn it on, Neely,” Thorne says, taking my hand.

  I know immediately that he’s talking about the torture chamber. Just the thought of what my father did to Thorne, to us… I’m able to feel the pain of the shocks, of the screams, of the pricks across my skin and the heat that twists in my stomach at the memory. It was my idea to use the torture chamber, the most powerful thing in the Compound, so powerful that each time he used it the lights in the buildings flickered. A redirection.

  Mitchell’s the one who explains it again. “The controls run off the same energy. Without your father’s code to open the barriers or a way to refocus the energy directed at the torture chamber so we can break through them, we can’t access the control room.”

  “Why am I here?”

  The men grow silent again.

  “The director is the only one who can stop us,” Handler says. “If he gets word of our arrival, he can stop us before we ever make it to the control room. Before we save one person. He can kill us all.”

  The “but” lingers in the air. I know what they’re going to say. Thorne takes my hand, and I can’t help but look
at him.

  “Only one person can get close enough to stop him.”

  Me-that’s what they’re not saying. Only I can stop him. But it’s not even my father’s fault. Thorne squeezes my hand, and I close my eyes for a second, try to remember the song I used to hum. It’s not there. I’ve always known it would come down to him or me. I’ve always known, but now it seems wrong.

  “I have to kill him.”

  “You just have to distract him, to stop him,” Thorne says quickly. I pull my hand away and stare down at the blueprints. The memories of all the things he’s done to me rush back. Forbidding me from seeing Thorne. Thorne screaming. His face when he made me watch Thorne’s torture. Tearing my mother’s picture. Locking me in the safehouse. Watching me, manipulating. But none of it was him. Not really…

  “How do you plan to get in?” I ask, running my hand across the page. “It’s better to use the south entrance. It will take you to the floor directly behind the Troopers, add an element of surprise.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Handler says. There’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before. I don’t look up, but I can feel them all staring at me.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  Thorne starts to speak, but I turn and walk away because, even though my father’s evil, even though I want to hate him, the thought of killing him makes me sick. He’s my father. The Elders made him this way, and if I do this, then I’m no different from them, despite my motives.

  DEADLINE: 6D, 11H, 6M

  MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS

  “WHAT’S IT LIKE?” MITCHELL ASKS.

  I look up at him from the desk. “What’s what like?”

  His eyes explore the area of the Hub, jumping from computer to computer before they rest back on me. “The branding. Have you ever wanted it gone? It’s got to be weird what you and Thorne can do.”

  I shrug and look away, just for a moment. There’s no way to explain it; it just is. “I’m used to it now,” I say.