by Tracey Ward
“You don’t have shoes?” he asks incredulously.
I shake my head. “No. I wasn’t wearing any when the ship went down.”
“And you didn’t think to ask for any?”
“Between you and Abby it didn’t seem likely asking would help.”
He turns his scowl forward. The look is more pronounced in profile, the yellow lights in the windows behind him casting slow strobes as we walk. “I would have gotten you shoes,” he mutters defensively.
“I guess I should have asked.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t because you’re too proud to ask for help?”
“You mean too stuck up?”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Grayson?”
He glances at me only briefly. “What?”
“Can I have shoes?”
“Yes.”
We walk in silence through more alleys, more deserted streets. Once we turn a corner to find people standing outside a shop. They’re chatting quietly, laughing loudly, and despite my fear of being discovered, my curiosity wins over. I lean forward to look closer, to get a better look at their faces, clothes, hair; everything.
Grayson immediately wraps his arm around my waist to pull me out of their sight before they can notice us. He’s so much taller than I am that my feet lift off the ground as he spins me. I gasp but I don’t shout. I’m about to tell him he should be proud I’m keeping up my end of the bargain when he grunts in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper anxiously.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he grinds out, putting me down.
“You’re hurt.”
He shakes his head tightly, my body pulled in close to his side. His fingers are biting into my skin, like his hand is clenching against the pain. I watch patiently as the tension in his face unravels by degrees. As the pain subsides and his breathing comes naturally again.
“Are you okay?”
He nods once. “We can’t go that way. We can’t make it to the L without being seen.”
“What is the L anyway?”
“Laundry and Linen. It’s where everyone’s everything gets washed. Clothes, towels, sheets, blankets. If something comes in that looks worn out they pull it and replace it from stock. They have extra of everything. That’s why Easton said we should go to Karina to get a coat for you, but it’s almost the start of second shift. The streets are about to flood with people going to work and we still have a few blocks between us and the L. We’ll never make it without half the town seeing you and I can’t take you outside without some kind of cover.”
“Because my skin will cause a riot?”
“Because it’s cold outside.”
He pulls me around, leading me back the way we came. I’m hyper aware of the hot feel of his hand seeping through the thin material of my shirt. It’s no longer aching, not the way his grip was when he was in pain, but it burns somehow. It leaves a mark I’ll remember when it’s gone.
We backtrack three blocks before Grayson pulls out a set of keys that jingle noisily in his palm. He shoves his shoulder into a door at the back of a dark building, spinning the keys until it falls open. Then he pulls me inside.
I’m instantly blind. If there’s light anywhere, my eyes can’t find it. Luckily my hand finds Grayson’s arm. I take hold tightly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, low and alert.
“I can’t see anything.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s pitch black in here.”
“There’s a light up there at the turn in the stairs.”
“There are stairs?”
“Oh man,” he whispers in amazement. “You’re blind.”
I go tight with irritation. “I grew up in the Seventh hour, remember? It doesn’t exactly get dark very often.”
“Or at all.”
“Storms,” I remind him. “The storms blot out the sun. It’s the closest to night I’ve ever been.”
“That’s about to change real quick.”
He takes hold of my elbow to lead me forward. It echoes worse than the caves in here, sound volleying off every surface. Our footsteps, our voices, his breathing. It’s distracting. Disorienting, and my stomach rolls angrily as I sail through the darkness with only the anchor of his arm to keep me upright.
I get a warning when we reach the bottom of the stairs, but then Grayson is silent as he guides me up them. It’s slow going. I can feel the tension in his body next to mine. My pace is driving him crazy. He wants to hurry but he doesn’t say it. He bites his tongue while he takes me three stories up before pushing through another door.
It leads to a hallway, one that’s better lit. Light from the street is coming in through a window at the opposite end of the corridor. Long bulbs burn a blueish white hue over the dark carpet. The yellow walls. The endless line of identical doors.
Grayson extracts himself from my hold to fish his keychain from his pocket. He motions for me to follow him, stopping at one of the last doors on the right. The tarnished brass number reads 34.
He holds the door open for me, groaning when I hesitate. “What now?”
“I’m blind, remember?”
“There’s nothing in front of you. Take three steps inside so I can close the door, then I’ll turn on the lights.”
I do as he says, though I’m ready to trip with each step. There’s something about the dark that makes everything feel bigger than it is. Rooms feel larger, obstacles more dangerous, and even Grayson’s voice has him rising to seven feet tall in my mind.
I jump when air rushes past me from behind. I have to remind myself it’s only him. It’s just the door closing.
“Stay right here,” his voice vibrates near my ear.
I listen to his footsteps cross the floor. His big boots make him easy to follow.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Click.
Lights snap on overhead, making me wince. The room flares white before slowly settling into grays and blues. Yellows. Reds. There’s a lot of that here; red. Red rug, red couch, red metal table with matching red chairs.
“What’s your favorite color, Grayson?” I ask sarcastically, surveying the rest of the room.
He’s already disappeared through a door. It looks like it leads to a bedroom. “Orange,” his muffled voice replies.
“Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason.”
He appears in the doorway, his hands on either side of the frame as he leans into the living room. “What are you talking about?”
I point to the red table next to me.
“Oh, yeah,” he mutters disinterestedly. He pushes off the frame and vanishes back into the bedroom. “It was like that when we moved in. I could swap it out with the warehouse for something different but I don’t care.”
“We?”
“What?”
“You said ‘when we moved in’. Do you have a roommate?”
Silence. I don’t know if he heard me or if he’s ignoring me, but the thought of the latter makes me angrier than any of the biting things he’s said to me so far. I have a hard time with being ignored. With my words going unnoticed.
I take a step toward the bedroom to call out to him again, but I stumble, startled when he suddenly emerges with his arms full of gear.
He nods to the red chair by the table. “Sit down. These shoes aren’t going to fit you, you’re too small. But I have some thick socks and I can lace the boots up tight. We’ll do the best we can.”
On the table he lays down two dark wool coats. They have the same emblem on the shoulder that his black shirt has. It looks like names are on the other shoulder. I can make out ‘yson’ on one and ‘Mic’ on the other.
Grayson kneels down in front of me. “Micah. That was my roommate. These are his boots,” he hands me the thick socks to roll over my feet, “and that’s his jacket. He was shorter than I am. His feet were smaller. You’ll fit his clothes better.”
I pull the socks on quickly, my ey
es on his face. He’s watching my hands. “He died?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sets a boot down heavily next to my feet. “Lift your leg.”
I do as I’m told. I don’t complain as he roughly helps me push my foot into the shoe. As he yanks the thick cords that lace the boot up past my shin. The sound of leather creaking against leather cuts through the silent room with each decisive tug of his hands.
When he’s done he stands abruptly, towering over me.
“It has a hood,” he says, dropping the jacket in my lap. “Wear it.”
I stand, hefting the thick material up over my shoulders. I wind my hair into a bun at the base of my neck, holding it in place with one hand as I struggle to pull the hood up with the other.
Finally Grayson can’t take it. He reaches forward impatiently to help me, pulling the wool down low on my forehead. He steps back to check his work.
“Well?” I ask nervously.
He shrugs. “No one can see your skin. That’s good.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“It felt like there was a ‘but’ coming.”
“No. No buts. I mean, other than you look insane.”
My shoulders slump. “I’ll stand out. This isn’t going to keep me safe, is it?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not the coat’s job to keep you safe,” he tells me, shrugging into his own jacket. “It’s mine.”
***
Getting outside is easier than getting across town. Grayson says it’s because another storm is coming and everyone has been told to stay indoors. Most are on their way to work anyway. Only a few people will still be out on the beach when we get there. One or two Forces members standing guard along with two people operating a big machine made for digging in the dirt. He doesn’t talk about what they’re guarding or digging because we both know. It’s the dead and their grave. It’s a fact I’m aware of but one I’m having a hard time grasping. I can’t picture it. I can’t brace myself for it, and when we breach the massive double doors at the entrance to their cave and the world slaps me hard and cold in the face, I feel myself go breathless. Boneless. I’m out of my body because I just can’t be inside it for this.
I can’t stomach the thought of seeing my brother laid out pale and lifeless beside a dark hole in the ground.
The air smells familiar. The sea salt hits my tongue and settles my soul. It puts my body at ease in a way all the acupressure, ginger cookies, and peppermint in the world could never do. I spot the ocean in the distance, churning gray and dark. Angry. Inviting. I want to run to it. I want to dive inside and swim for home, but I can’t. I never could. No more than I can lift up on the wind and fly away, no matter how desperately I want it.
“They’re up here.”
Grayson’s voice sounds a million miles away. Faint and small without the thundering echo that lives inside the caves.
I spot the machine first. It’s not as big as I expected. Not the monster of metal and grinding gears I imagined. It rumbles rhythmically as it reaches forward, dragging a big bucket through the earth and pulling it out. Hollowing the world. Building a void.
Next to it are the bodies. I can tell by the shape under the blankets. Some are smaller than others and my heart clenches when I realize there are kids here. Kids who washed ashore cold and alone without their mothers. Without their fathers or their brothers. Without their names.
I won’t know them. I won’t be able to give anything back to them, and the thought cuts me in two until tears stream down my cheeks inside the darkness of my hood. The wind whips at it, battering against it aggressively, and I can feel the moisture in the air. The electricity that says a storm isn’t coming; it’s here.
“Liv,” Grayson mumbles, “are you ready? We have to hurry.”
I nod my head mutely.
Grayson calls out to the two other men in Forces gear. They step up to the line of blankets, each of them bending down to take hold of them. One by one they pull them away, exposing the bodies underneath.
A girl I don’t know.
A man from the kitchens.
A little boy with blond hair.
My mother.
I double over when I see her. Air abandons me, bile taking its place in my throat. I let loose a low moan as the pain burns through me, tugging at the pit of my stomach and bringing the contents to the surface. It splatters over the rocks under my feet. The pain is gone but the empty it leaves behind is so much worse. It’s more complete, more consuming, and as they pull more blankets away I worry what will happen to me if he’s there.
I worry more what will happen if he’s not.
An old man with no hair.
Sara, my mother’s friend.
A little girl with blond curls. The one I tried to save.
A boy in a dark suit.
An older woman in a nightdress.
A young man.
And another.
None of them are my brother.
“Liv?”
It’s Easton. I don’t see him but I hear him. He’s on the wind, but when his large hand folds around mine I know it. I remember it. I cling to it.
“Do you know any of them?” he asks me softly.
I nod my head. “My mother.”
He swears quietly. “What about your brother?”
“He’s not here,” I weep shakily. I’m half laughing, half crying, half out of my mind. “What does that mean? Is he alive? Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Could he be alive?”
“I honestly don’t know,” he answers reluctantly. “But it’s better if you don’t count on it.”
I tremble uncontrollably, my legs going numb underneath me.
I collapse in a torturous mix of grief and relief.
Chapter Fifteen
Gray
Easton carries her because I can’t.
I follow his broad back, his tireless stride. Her arm around his neck and her feet bouncing with every step are all I can see of her beyond the shield of his body. Her boots are off. They fell away from her feet when he scooped her up off the dirt, calling over his shoulder for me to grab them.
Rain starts to fall as we reach the doors. It’s pelting, turning to hail, and I run with Easton as he hurries inside. My ribs scream with every footfall.
People call to both of us as we cross the threshold into the cave, but we keep jogging. How he manages it carrying her I have no idea. Even healthy I couldn’t do it for too long, but he keeps a steady pace, his breathing sharp and regulated.
When we make it to the hospital Dr. Kanden is in the small lobby. She frowns when she sees us.
“What’s happened?” she demands.
Easton whispers to Liv where she’s burrowed against his chest. She mumbles something back, swinging her legs down to the ground. He holds her arm to steady her but she manages to stand upright on her own.
“Grayson will explain,” he tells Dr. Kanden breathily. “I have to get back to the doors. We’re securing them as soon as we can.”
“Already?”
“The storms are building off of each other. This one won’t be the last, and we got a call from Thornbow. They’ve spotted wolves closing in.” He knocks my shoulder with his hand. “I’ll see you down there?”
“I’ll be there are soon as I can.”
He turns to the door, taking off at a sprint out of the hospital.
“Come on, hon. Let’s get you to your room,” Dr. Kanden coos. She takes Liv’s arm to pull her forward, casting a glance over her shoulder. “Go if you need to, Grayson. You’re more use out there securing the city than here. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m supposed to stay with her.”
“No one is coming in here and even if they do I can lock down the hall she’s in. She’ll be perfectly safe.”
Dr. Kanden and Liv disappear around the corner. I’m left in the lobby alone living with m
y temptation. With my duty and my desire.
I want to go. I fought hard to get this job, to get on with Forces and rise in the ranks, and the fact that I’m being cast aside during one of the most important times of the year is infuriating. Securing the doors is crucial to keeping us safe when the frost comes. When the animals pass through and the vishers smell us through the ground. Now is our only chance to guarantee our safety for the next six months. I should be out there leading, shoulder to shoulder with my brother.
I should not be in the hospital watching an Eventide sleep.
I yank my radio off my belt. It only takes a second to call Captain Fuller on his private channel, but in that second I run through every option. Every argument. Even before he answers I feel like none of it will be enough.
“Go, Grayson,” he barks.
“Sir, the girl is secured in the hospital.”
“Stay there.”
“I don’t know if that’s necessary. The doc says she can lock the place down.”
“And I said to stay there.”
My lips tighten in a grimace. “I should be with the team, sir. I’m in charge of the coordination between Forces and the engineers.”
“I’ve already arranged a replacement.”
“You’ve taken away my command?”
“I’ve shifted it. You’re not demoted, you’re not on leave. You’re needed elsewhere. So be there.”
“But what—“
Static interrupts me until I let go of the TALK button.
“Are you done?” he asks dispassionately.
“Yes, sir. I’m done.”
“Stay. With. The girl. Clear?”
“Clear,” I growl.
“Out.”
I clench the radio in my hand tightly, my knuckles blanching bone white. I press it to my mouth. I contain the anger bubbling up inside me when all I want to do is hit something. Shout. Anything but what I’m doing, which is nothing.
“Having a bad day?”