"A story I would like to hear as well," Grayson grumbles.
Resigned to our course of action, Grayson walks over to offer his goodbye. Helping me off the floor, he holds tight to my hands, not wanting to let go, but unable to stay. He leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and my heart breaks that things are so strange between us; neither one able to push past Travis' death. Our guilt acts as a pendulum, swinging back and forth between us, offering only brief glimpses of affection through our grief.
Refusing to acknowledge the awkwardness, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug. He kisses my forehead with a request to be careful. Choked up, I can only manage a small nod before pulling away. He turns from me, helping Sadie to her feet, giving her a strange look as she grimaces from the effort. My blood runs cold when I see the questions in his eyes. In a panic I pull her to me in a quick embrace, whispering a warning in her ear. She laughs at my worries, but the sound is hollow. She is just as afraid as I am.
Jack thrusts a hand at Grayson, which he takes, giving a firm but empty shake. More business transaction than an act of friendship, their entire relationship can be summed up in that one gesture.
"Asking me to protect Kat takes a great amount of trust," Jack says. "I appreciate that."
"I am trusting you with Kat against my better judgment." Grayson growls.
"Against your better judgment?" Jack scoffs. "How could you still doubt me? I am the only one in this entire city who has ever done anything to keep her safe."
"You almost get her killed, and you have the audacity to claim to be her protector?"
"Your crazy father nearly killed her, all I did was tell the truth. Isn't that what your city is built on? Why is it that you guys make such a big deal about being honest, and then turn around and lie to everyone? Your kind is more than eager to make the rules, but sure as heck don't want to follow them."
"You should watch your words Jack, you forget you are a fugitive in my city. If I didn't need your help, your situation would be a lot different right now."
"Would you two stop it already?" I cry. "Jack will keep me safe. I trust him and so should you. All you should worry about is getting Sadie back home and getting the Big House in order."
Grayson puts his arm around an obviously exhausted Sadie and ushers her to the door. With one hand on the knob, he throws me a look that says much more than can be expressed with words. Love, regret, hope, sadness . . . it's all there.
"Come back to me Kat," he says. "We are going to figure this out, and we will get back to where we once were, I promise."
"Of course we will. Now hurry, and be safe."
"I was just about to say the same thing to you," he says.
"She will be safe," Jack says. "I will always keep her safe."
27 – Waiting
The door shuts softly behind Grayson, and Jack lets out a long sigh, plopping back on the couch. Anxious to leave, I stand by the door, slightly irritated by his smug look. We both know Grayson will be hiding somewhere in the field, waiting to see what direction we leave in, and Jack is being cruel for making him wait. Sprawled out on the sofa, Jack wiggles his eyebrows comically in an attempt to cheer me up, patting the small space next to him. To his amusement, I choose Sadie's chair near the fireplace instead.
"So how do you know Sadie?"
"She is my cousin," he says grinning.
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Of course not, I am being serious. Our mothers are sisters."
"So you are from Axiom? Why didn't Sadie say anything when she saw you? She must have been shocked to see you here."
"Yes, I am from Axiom. She didn't say anything because she already knew I was here. I went to see her the night before I tried to rescue you."
"She didn't have anything to do with me being taken did she?"
"No way. Her and old Mags left Axiom a good week before you and your parents left. The only people who were involved were Lucas and a couple of his men. I haven't figured out which ones yet; I have found zero leads. It is possible he had them killed."
"And what role did you play?"
"I just kept you hidden. I thought I was protecting you against a plot on your life. That's what Lucas told me. I had no idea that he was behind the whole thing."
"So you really were just trying to keep me safe?"
"Isn't that what I've been saying all along?" he says, smiling.
His self-righteous grin is both adorable and irritating. Jack has had his fun, and Grayson needs to get Sadie back to the Big House. Taking the hint, Jack jumps up and opens the door for me with a gentlemanly bow.
I am amazed at how quickly he has recovered from his near execution. It seems just moments ago that he was crying out his last words, and now he is jovial, as if all was right in the world. I walk out, scanning the fields for any sign of Grayson. The crops sway slightly in the wind, seemingly void of human life. My hope is that I am wrong, and he hasn't made poor Sadie wait before taking her home.
"He's out there somewhere," Jack whispers in my ear, "Don't doubt that for a second. There is no way he is going to miss seeing which direction I'm heading."
Jack takes my hand with a wink, and pulls me in the direction of the city gate, away from Grayson and the Big House. Every few feet I look back behind me, trying to catch some movement. Even though I know it is just Grayson and Sadie, the thought of having someone watching me makes my skin crawl.
"If you spend all your time watching where you have been, you'll miss the journey," Jack says. "Before you know it, the future will be the past, and the only thing you will have to show for it is a sore neck."
"That's some sage advice coming from someone who is constantly trying to get me to remember my past."
"A means to an end. The difference is that I am not your past. I'm your future. You may not realize it yet, but you will. The world has changed. You have changed. This life you are living now . . . it's not real. You and Grayson are trying to cling to a past that doesn't exist anymore. You are trying to shove yourself into a mold you no longer fit in. One day you will understand exactly what I mean."
"Understanding what you mean would take a lot less time if you would just explain it to me."
"Where is the fun in that?" he laughs.
"I am glad you are finding amusement in my situation."
"Don't get upset, love. I promise to tell you everything soon enough . . ."
"I wish you wouldn't call me that, and when exactly is "soon enough"?"
"When I say it is."
"And just so you know, Grayson and I are not clinging to anything. We haven't even talked about it."
"Give him some time," Jack says softly. "He will need to process what happened with his brother before he is ready to talk about love. Don't worry, as much as I hate it, that conversation between you two is coming."
We walk until the fields are out of sight, ducking behind an old barn near the wall. Jack raises his finger to his lips, breathing out a soft shush, quieting my questions before I have time to ask them. We sit in the soft grass, leaning our backs against the barn, the peeling paint giving off a rusty smell as it separates from the moldy wood beneath it. In a city of perfectly placed, starched white bricks, the quietly rotting barn seems out of place; a forgotten blight on an otherwise flawless city.
We are waiting, although for what I couldn't guess. To hide my impatience, I pick at the paint, watching as it drops into the grass below, a red stain against the pale green of late summer. Jack makes no explanation of why we have stopped, and my attempts to ask are rewarded with additional shushing. He is in no hurry to move, just smiling that crooked grin of his while braiding and twisting tall stalks of grass. He gently lifts my hand, tying the braided grass around my wrist. It is a soft gesture, a sweet attempt at intimacy that elicits the strongest feeling of déjà vu.
When the sun starts to dip below the wall, Jack stands, reaching out to help me to my feet. My calves and thighs protest at the movement, a combination of our ru
n and sitting idle for so long. My gown sticks to my legs uncomfortably, and the skirt is covered in dirt and grass.
"I miss blue jeans sometimes," I sigh.
"That's what you miss?" he laughs.
"Well, yes, I mean . . . sometimes."
Jack bends down and takes a handful of my long gown, pulling the hem up to my waist and tucking it into my belt. My legs are now bare up to my knees, and the relief is instant.
"If I had my knife I would cut it for you, but they took it away when they tried to hang me."
"How can you talk about nearly being executed with such nonchalance? You can't stand here and pretend it wasn't horrible. I was there remember? It was traumatizing, and I wasn't even the one on the end of the rope."
"Don't worry about me," he says, pulling a stalk of grass from between his lips. "I made peace with death long ago. When you live a life like mine, you have to."
"That's a terrible thing to say!"
"It's true, though. I would have been fine with my fate if I hadn't seen you standing there."
"I thought you would hate me," I say quietly. "And when you broke down, I hated myself. You had been so strong and brave, and I ruined that for you. I never would have forgiven myself if you had died that way because of me."
"Are you crazy? Seeing you there was one of the happiest moments of my life. They had told me you were dead, Kat. They even swore to it on a scanner. When I saw you standing there, just as perfect and beautiful as I had left you, I lost it; but it wasn't hate. I'm not sure what you would call it, but I have never felt so much relief and fear at the same time."
"Still, you must think I'm an idiot."
"Why would I think that?"
"Because it's true. Part of me knew I should have gone with you when you asked, but I ignored it. I just felt so safe here, like I had a home and a family. I look back now, and I just can't believe I didn't ask more questions. I didn't even try to figure out the world around me, just accepted everything they told me at face value. Who does that?"
"Someone raised in the city, that's who. You were programmed from an early age to accept what you are told. It is in your very nature not to question. If you hadn't spent time away from the city with me, we wouldn't even be here right now. You would have turned me in the very first day I came to you, and never would have raised that gun to defend yourself."
"Do you really think that is what I was like?"
"I know for a fact that you were. You were indoctrinated sweetheart, and you shouldn't blame yourself. You had almost no control over who you were. Who you become now, on the other hand, is all on you."
Jack leads me around the side of the barn, back in the direction of the farmhouse. His steps are much slower than before, and his attention drifts off, lost in thought. The silence between us is not uncomfortable but it is thick, each taking the time to ponder over paths taken and choices made. I am not surprised that we are heading back into the city, a secret tunnel wouldn't stay secret for long if it had been anywhere near the wall.
"We were waiting behind the barn to give Grayson time to give up and leave weren't we?"
"Yes, and thankfully no one stumbled on us there. I wouldn't normally put you at risk like that, but I can't be too careful. There are other people I have to protect as well, people who have risked everything to help me, and others like me, to move through the cities.
Just when I think I have things figured out, we return to Sadie's family farm. I suppose I should have realized there would be a good reason for Jack running here in the first place. I don't want to say anything to Jack, but there is a good chance Grayson is going to realize that. As smart as Jack is, deep down, he must already know.
The farmhouse is still deserted when we return to it. Without Sadie's gregarious relatives filling the place, the house feels more like a tomb than a home. Instead of the pitter-patter of children's feet, the empty halls ring out the echoes of our footsteps. The sound gives me chills as we make our way through the maze of hallways.
Jack leads me to the back of the house and into the kitchen. The hearth is cold, and the air is filled with the smell of ash and burned tinder rather than cooking food. We slip through an unassuming, wooden door located near the stove, and I find myself in a surprisingly large pantry. Like most of its kind, it boasts walls covered in shelves packed full of dry and canned goods. Bouquets of drying herbs hang from the ceiling rafters, and sacks of potatoes and rice fill one corner of the floor. The entire room smells rich and earthy.
As we walk in, one of Sadie's boy cousins looks up from a book. I had almost missed him there, snuggled into the sacks of rice. With a nod, the boy jumps up, and he and Jack begin to move the bags to the other side of the room. As they move each bag, a trap door is slowly uncovered, much like the one in the closet of our cabin.
Jack drops down through the door, disappearing into the dark space beneath. Standing at the edge, I can see just his hands as they reach up for me. I want to scream as I lower myself into his arms; the darkness of the hidden room swallowing me whole as Sadie's cousin closes the hatch. Clinging to Jack, I begin to shiver. We stand there together in the darkness until our eyes begin to adjust to the dim light filtering through the floorboards.
The room we are in is small, just large enough for the two of us to stand in. We are surrounded on three sides by dirt walls, with the fourth housing a small tunnel roughly hewn out of the dirt. A rush of panic moves through me at the sight of the small cramped opening. Only waist high on the wall, the roof of the tunnel will only clear our head by inches if we crawl. Shaking my head in disbelief I take a step back. He wants me to go into the very earth itself, without any light or guarantee of an exit. There isn't even enough space to turn around if we encounter a problem. I can feel myself suffocating just looking at it.
"I can't do this."
"Yes, you can. It's only this small for a little bit. It opens up into a bigger tunnel, I promise."
"Jack, I can't."
"I know you are scared, but this is the way we have to go. This tunnel has been here for a very long time, and I swear to you it is safe. You go first, I will be right behind you."
"Why do I have to go first?"
"If you start to panic I can't help you if I am in front of you."
"That's reassuring." I say almost in tears.
"Kat, you can do this. I know you can do this. You can trust me."
"You say that a lot," I say nervous.
"I am going to keep on saying it until you believe me."
28 – Tunnels
Taking a deep breath, I lower myself on all fours, the red dirt and grime rubbing harshly against my hands and knees. I break out into a sweat as I enter the tunnel, shuffling along in a crawl. The walls brush against me as I move, a constant reminder at just how small the space is. This must be so much worse for Jack who will have to squeeze himself through. Fully inside the pitch-black tunnel, I start to hyperventilate. Jack places a hand on my ankle to steady me; the touch of his hand is comforting and familiar, and I am able to calm myself back down.
The tunnel seems endless before me, and the darkness is like nothing I have ever experienced before. The stuffy air is suffocating, and my body rebels against my command to venture deeper into its blackness. Thankfully, like Jack promised, the tunnel starts to grow, opening up after only a few minutes of crawling. I am so relieved when I am able to stand up that I laugh hysterically, filling the void with the sound of my liberation. I can hear Jack fumbling around in the dark as he strikes a match. That first spark of light is beautiful, bright as the sun in an endless night sky, grander than any chandelier, and more moving than any sunset.
In a flash, the spark turns into a flame, which Jack uses to light a candle. The tunnel slowly illuminates, revealing a small table next to Jack, laden with matches and candles. Just how many people move through here?
While still not my ideal mode of transportation, this larger tunnel at least looks safer with its evenly carved walls, high ceiling, an
d wooden support beams along the sides and roof. With a wink, Jack leads the way, his soft footsteps muffled by the sound of the loose red dirt beneath us. I cling tightly to the back of his shirt as we walk, still terrified to be underground. I stare in fear at the long roots growing through the sides of the walls, and the large cracks in the dirt radiating from where they have breached the tunnel.
Something small and fast runs across my foot and I scream, burying my face against the rough material of Jack's shirt. Laughing, he turns around, holding me tightly as he lowers the light to illuminate the floor of the tunnel. The light reveals tiny mice running throughout the corridor, zipping in and out of various holes in the earthen walls. Somewhat relieved, we continue to walk, Jack's arm now tight about my waist. Whether he is simply offering comfort, or taking advantage of the situation, is not my concern. Fear has once again over ruled my better judgment.
"It gets easier here in a few minutes," Jack says. "The tunnel will branch off and the path we take has air holes that go to the surface. It will be easier to breath, and the light will be better."
"Thank goodness. I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"Don't doubt yourself. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for."
"Are you kidding? I've wanted to turn around and go back with every step."
"But you didn't."
True to Jack's word, the tunnel branches off and small, bright dots line the walls. As we pass them, the air is instantly fresher, and the rays of sunlight drifting through makes me feel less, well, buried. I try to look through one the holes as we pass to gage where we are in the city, but it curves too much for me to see anything but dirt. How on earth do they keep these things from caving in?
At the thought of a cave-in, my anxiety runs wild again. With every step we take, I picture the roof caving in on us and imagine our bodies being held down by rubble, slowly suffocating as we use up the last of the stale, dusty air. No one knows we are down here, and I have no idea what part of the city we are under. If we were trapped, no one would find us.
Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) Page 22