The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2
Page 22
I’m astounded, and I stare at him with complete incredulity. This is unheard of. We don’t do this kind of thing. Not in Eden. Not anywhere. It takes me a good minute to find my voice.
“So . . . they’re spies.”
His response is silence, which confirms my suspicion. I shake my head, stand, and hold out my mug.
“I can’t help you.”
He doesn’t take the mug. “And why is that?”
“Because it’s crazy. You’re crazy. I don’t believe you. The Board would not break its own Code.”
He laughs softly, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth before squinting up at me. “If that’s what you think, Ian Roberts, you are one naive puppy.”
I straighten, a glint of anger flashing through me. “The Code is clear, Kyle-whatever-your-last-name is. What you’re suggesting is what starts wars.”
“Or prevents them. And it’s Stevenson.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Why would we do that? We trade with other villages. We have peace with them. We don’t spy on them. We all live in isolation from each other for a reason. There is no need for . . . intelligence. That’s the old way.”
“Maybe. But where there are humans, there’s always a potential for war. The Board knows this. And do you really think you’d have it in your mind to break Code from time to time, and the Board wouldn’t?”
I contemplate his question. I don’t like it, but he has a valid point. He’s quiet, smugly drinking his tea. Frustrated, I walk to the sink and place my mug in the bottom untouched.
“Why are you telling me this?” I lean on my hands against the sink, my back to him “If it’s some secret top-level team, why would you entrust me with the information. How is that supposed to get you assigned?”
He takes another easy sip from his mug, smacks his lips. “Are you going to repeat what I’ve told you?”
I straighten and face him. “No.”
“That’s why.”
“That’s it? You’re just going to trust me?”
“Yep. Anybody who wants to get through that gate as badly as you did last night deserves to be trusted.”
I’m surprised by his answer. His matter-of-fact manner runs over me like smooth oil, persuading me to let my guard down—to allow this soldier into my confidences. And for a moment, my resolve falters. Because I realize how totally alone I am. I long for someone to know what I have suffered. To know what I know about the outside. To know that I have a knife which belongs to the Set-Typhon in my pocket, and I have no idea what it means. To assure me that I can get to Kate before it’s too late. To assure me that I can love her forever without repercussions.
I need someone to understand how difficult it was to hold that tiny, dying baby against my chest for two whole days, and to feel the last of her heartbeats thumping with mine. That as strong and as fast as I am, I had no power to save her.
But I settle on Kyle’s face, these thoughts scrambling around in my brain, and I say nothing.
“Look.” Kyle settles comfortably in his chair as if he’s planning to tell me the longest story of his life. “I know this city. I know every single section of the wall. And I can get you out… without using the gate.”
I push all other thoughts aside to focus on this. “How is this possible?”
“It just is.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Let’s just say I’ve done it before,” he says, direct and honest.
I lift my brows, surprised. “You’ve breached the wall?”
He half raises his shoulders in a conceding manner to indicate that he has done exactly that. I sit down.
“How?”
He shrugs. “The ‘how’ isn’t important. Not yet. For now, this is all you get from me.”
I rest my bow against the wall and clasp my hands together, my elbows on my knees. And I’m suddenly itching with a nervous feeling—the kind of feeling I get when something extraordinary is about to happen. Something no one would ever believe. It’s the same feeling I experienced when I first shifted, and my body realized that certain, natural limits had been eradicated. I lick my lips—thinking—before I ask my next question. The dangerous question. The one that burns bright and has been burning since Justin and I exchanged that heart-stopping glance over Tabitha’s sick body in the cabin.
“This breach you mentioned. Can toxin escape through it?”
My question stops him short in the middle of a drink. He lowers the mug.
“No.” When I still look uncertain, he adds, “It’s safe. If I thought it was the slightest bit dangerous, I would not suggest it.”
It’s not the answer I’m seeking, but I say nothing more. No need to involve him.
“So are you ready to tell me why you’re so desperate to get out?” he asks.
I swallow.
“No. Not really.”
He studies me a second and then shrugs. “Okay. Have it your way for now. But just so you know, my help comes with the price of complete honesty. I need to know what I might be getting myself into by helping you.”
“Right.” My lips form a tight line. “It appears to me you’re helping me out of your own self-interest.”
He laughs with a soft shake of his head. “Well, you’re completely wrong. But I get it. Trust comes first, and we just aren’t there yet. You have until tomorrow night to get to that point.”
A punch to my gut.
“Tomorrow night? No. I can’t wait. I—I have to go now.”
“Sorry about that, but I have to work tonight. I miss my shift, and people get suspicious. And then you dont' get out. So . . . tomorrow night.”
Disappointment floods me, fills me with an unquenchable desperation that has been riding my back like a wild beast since I took off from that cabin with Kate standing in the doorway. The look on her face sears my memory. A fear. A hopelessness A terribly quiet aching. For Tabitha. For us. She needs me to come back to her.
I take a breath, shake my nerves aside. Something else resides within her, too, rushing from her like roaring waters. It reminds me that she can survive without me. It’s a determination, laced with her inner fortitude that overcomes every obstacle she’s ever encountered. Because that’s what Kate does. That’s what she is. She’s a sharp arrow in the midst of several dull ones. And she never misses her target.
Never.
So the reality is not that she needs me but that I need to be where she is.
These erratic thoughts fill my mind, cause my blood to pump at full speed through my veins, but all Kyle sees is my steady composure. My training is paying off.
“Sure,” I say. “I understand. Tomorrow night then.”
Another day. Another entire day, and there isn’t one thing I can do about it. I release an inconspicuous sigh.
“So we have a deal?”
Kyle holds out a hand, and I stare at it—not long enough—before I take it and seal the agreement. He squeezes, not letting go right away, tugging me forward slightly. And the message in his eyes is clear. We’ve made a secret pact. What was said in this room stays right here.
Kyle loosens his grip on my hand. “I appreciate anything you can do with your dad to move things along for me. I know it won’t secure me a position, but it might help.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
He smiles. “Thanks, Ian.”
I hear the beginning shades of trust in my name this time, however loose and flimsy they may be, but they cause me to lower my guard another notch. I will have to trust him eventually. He’s my only chance.
He slaps a hand against his knee and stands. “All right. Now you need to get out of here. It takes me at least eight hours sleep to look this good.”
His casual manner after all the formalities relaxes me, and I break into a smile involuntarily.
We’re going to breach the wall.
A nervous thrill swirls up and rides through my body. In doing this, I defy my parents on a greater scale than I ever have before. I defy the Code
. I take the chance of facing severe punishment. Lifelong restriction, lock down, exile. These are all measurable possibilities.
For a split second, I hesitate. I don’t have to do this. I could wait for Justin and the guys. And my gut instinct tells me I should. It’s the safer choice. The smarter choice.
And herein lies the problem. I’ve never been one to make the safer choice regardless of what my gut has to say. Whatever Kyle has planned, it’s an enormous risk, I know. But it’s a challenge, and it warms my blood with a rippling excitement. I’ve never been able to resist a challenge, and despite the consequences that will surely come crashing down on top of me like an unstable tower, I’m doing this. I’m going to breach the wall.
If this plan works, Kate is only a heartbeat out of my reach.
I’ll take that risk time and again.
Chapter 22
It’s the longest night of my life.
I’m flat on my back on top of the blankets, just staring at the nothingness above me. My curtains are open, and the light floods in—a bright beam shining on my misery. I feel useless, and as the night tiptoes by ever so slowly, it gives me too much time to think.
I begin to doubt Kyle and his insane plan.
This is Insomnia’s greatest move—to climb inside your nerves and shake them just enough to keep you wide awake—thinking. Before long, you’re furiously recreating every single possibility that has ever visited you. All the broken pieces of your fears and doubts and worries scramble to fit themselves back together into some sensible answer to all your problems. And Insomnia is not lonely for at least one night.
And so here I lie—scrambled.
I’m not used to this. I’m not in the habit of loitering, waiting for someone else to move first. Even before the Shift, it wasn’t in me. Always I had to be moving. To be in the forefront—leading the pack.
I don’t know how I will survive another entire, exhaustingly unproductive day not knowing where they are, how far they’ve come. If they’ve crossed the bridge yet.>
They haven’t. It’s been only three days since I left them. They couldn’t have made it to the bridge. Not yet. So of course, my fears are completely unfounded.
And yet, they hang over my shoulder, brooding along with me.
My restlessness gets the better of me, and I sit up and slide off the bed. I stand in the iridescent light, tall and still, and clench my fists.
I spoke to my father earlier. Tag didn’t rat me out after all, so it was safe to go home. Which also made it safe for me to paint Kyle Stevenson in a good light. I even made up a few details about how he was one of the guards who took me in and called for medical help when I stumbled back into Eden. And he might’ve been for all I know. Either way, my words made an impact on my dad, and he seemed to be impressed with this soldier. I have a feeling Kyle just might get a shot with the Board.
I’ve kept my end of the bargain. And now I wait—to see if Kyle keeps his.
I move to the window, peer down at the front lawn. The street is quiet, etched in silver light—a semblance of the moonlight. Everything is clean. Manicured.
Plastic.
It’s a vast contrast to the rugged terrain where Justin and the boys sleep tonight, and a fearsome jealousy floods me in a sudden and overpowering gush. I wish, and not for the first time, that I was curled up next to Kate under the stars. I learned very quickly that it’s the best place to be. Above me the dome glimmers with pinpoints of light, hiding the thousands of true stars that shine behind it. They don’t come close to displaying the glorious splendor of the actual night sky.
I’ve been back a day—only one—and already the stifling confinement consumes me. And when I remember my restriction, I find it hard to breathe.
I can’t stay here.
I reach for my pants slung over a chair and shrug into the rest of yesterday’s clothes.
Outside, the air is crisp with a hint of mist. I sniff. A storm is coming.
This is all a fabrication, of course, circulating through Eden’s artificial ventilation system. More than likely, a storm is coming, but we won’t really feel it. It will come in and slide undetected over the top of the city. Half the citizens won’t notice—won’t stop to enjoy even the fake smell of the rains. A majority of the citizens have never been outside of these walls. Never truly experienced rain, tasted a drop of water on the tips of their tongues, felt the cool wetness slithering across their skin. They don’t know, and so they don’t recognize the imagery of the true storm that will roil above us and fill the river with much needed water.
These thoughts cause me to become even more restless. I want to be out there, racing through the puddles at full speed. Outrunning swords of lightening and defying the thunder. My heart kicks up to match the rhythm of my longing.
I jet out from my house, flying down the empty street. A stunted kind of freedom invades me, and my speed stem clicks once. And again. Three more clicks. No chance of seeing anyone this late at night, therefore no chance of colliding into an innocent bystander.
The Code forbids this kind of recklessness, but at the moment, I don’t really care. I brace myself, take a deep breath, and reach for that click. The one I’ve never dared to initiate.
The sweet power of that moment is like nothing I’ve tasted in my entire life. It’s invigorating. Frightening. It swarms around inside of me in the most intimate kind of warmth. It’s a hungry kiss, pressing, longing, reaching beyond the bliss. A hard punch to the gut, jolting a final spurt of air from deflated lungs. A bloodcurdling scream of horror as the knife slices. Each holding equal playing power in their degrees of joy and fear, of pleasure and pain. And for once, I truly feel invincible. I never want it to end.
The east side of the wall looms ahead of me—the mother of all barricades fortified with titanium. They say this is what contains the toxin. Titanium walls keep it . . . and us . . . trapped.
I don’t slow my pace. I don’t think, not until the very last minute as the wall comes thundering toward me. It’s so alive in those last seconds—tall and formidable and holding me captive. My power stem makes me senseless, and for a moment, I truly believe I can bust right through that wall. Forget Kyle. Forget waiting until tomorrow night. I’ll make my own breach.
The city spreads out in all directions, huge and domed. Four times the size of the Pit where I found Kate. But in minutes I’ve covered the distance to the wall—a thing that would take an Outsider triple the time.
Five yards from the wall, I hit the brakes, screeching in my shoes until I come to a dead halt half an inch from the cement that covers the titanium and creates the illusion of gray bricks. I bump the wall with a thud, my nose taking the bulk of the impact, scraping roughly against it and burning the skin painfully off the tip. But I take a deep breath, place both palms flat against the coolness of the wall . . . and smile. Is this what it feels like to be indestructible?
One drop of blood hits the ground with a splat.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?”
I stiffen, close my eyes with a sigh.
Bethany.
She stands a few yards behind me, and from her tone, I can visualize her condescending stance. Hip jutted out to one side, arms crossed over her chest. Without looking, I know her. I’ve known her for far too long.
I turn, running the back of my hand over my nose to rid myself of the last of the blood.
“Seriously.” She takes a step closer. “What are you doing out here, Ian?”
I frown and brush past her, grazing her shoulder. She follows, and I scowl.
Seriously. What I’m doing is trying to be alone.
“What are you doing?” I ask over my shoulder. “Following me? I mean, this is twice in one day.”
“No. And technically, it’s tomorrow.” She matches her stride with mine. “I was staying at Julie’s house, but I couldn’t take her brother’s snoring. I swear he sounds like a freight train.”
She laughs at her clever comparison. But neither on
e of us has ever heard a freight train and likely never will, seeing as they no longer exist. Maybe snoring sounds like a freight train; maybe it doesn’t.
“So . . . I’m going home,” she continues. “And in case you’ve forgotten, this is my neighborhood.”
I check my surroundings, acceding to her comment, and move off the street toward the park. “I didn’t realize how far I’d run.”
She nods. “Well, that’s not hard to do.” She touches my arm lightly, penetrating the skin with a warm pressure before pulling back. “Isn’t it thrilling? The Shift, I mean?”
I ignore her, but she’s persistent, and she continues talking as if I’ve shown some great interest in what she has to say.
“People have tried to explain to me what it would be like—how it would feel to race the wind—but there’s really no describing it. It’s just something you have to experience, don’t you think?” A long pause. She cocks her head to catch my eyes. “Do you want some company?”
“Not really.” I sit on a park bench in an area cleared of trees and highlighted with playground equipment and bend to retie my left shoe lace. It loosens every time I run regardless of how many knots I’ve tied. I straighten, and I’m staring into Bethany’s eyes. Cool and calculated, always planning, scheming. They startle me. I turn away quickly.
“What do you want, Beth?”
I ask in the most offhanded tone I can muster. This doesn’t deter her. She shrugs, moves closer—until the entire left side of her body is meshed against the entire right side of mine. I toss her a vague expression, irritated by her forwardness.
“I just want to talk to you. Can’t we just talk like we used to? See how things sit with us?” Her mouth dips into a pout. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked, and you won’t hold still for five seconds.”
I examine her. I must admit, the Shift looks good on her. She is suddenly more attractive than I remember, and I feel it. I should be unmistakably drawn to her physicality. Something lingers within her, too—beyond the strength of the Shift. It encompasses her, making her bold and indestructible . . . and fearsome.