by Casey Hays
I’m frozen to my spot, staring in disbelief at my baby sister, who gawks up at me from so far away with her big, brown eyes, expectantly waiting for me to say something. To praise her or admonish her. To pass out, perhaps. Somehow, I find my voice buried under all the shock.
“How . . . did you do that, Ava?” It’s all I can manage.
With a worried smile, she shrugs. “I don’t know, Ian. Do you know?”
I hear the question, trace the longing weaved into it—her hope that maybe I can tell her what this means. But I can’t give her this.
I simply stand still, arms limp at my sides, and watch all my truth crumble down around me and vanish forever.
Chapter 24
The city library sits across the street from Town Hall. They say it’s one of the only historical buildings left in the world. Despite a fire that raged through the interior when a bundle of wires shorted out during the Fall, it still stands. It’s old and sort of crumbly, and the fire destroyed a majority of the books and other materials. But years ago, the inside was refurbished. What was left of the books was salvaged. And the old library became a place of knowledge, entertainment, solitude—depending on what the patron might be looking for. A symbol of life before the Fall.
Kate’s dark eyes flash through my mind. She would love this place.
This is the rendezvous point: the two story city library—just before closing. I hunch down in the shadows on the side of the big building, my pack by my side, and wait for Kyle. My patience grows thinner the closer my freedom approaches.
Eden has settled in for the evening, and the streets are close to deserted. Ava is asleep by now, snuggled safely in the middle of her stuffed animals. I tucked her in myself tonight, kissing her forehead and promising her that we would figure everything out together. Of course, this is contingent on me figuring out what in the world is happening first.
Seven year olds don’t react to the Serum. Babies who’ve never set foot in Eden don’t die of toxin. And yet, right before my eyes, logic defies itself.
These unanswered questions rattle around inside my brain with no answers in sight, and no one in mind whom I trust to ask—not even my parents. Dad says a scan of the wall proved all the gaskets were intact. No leaks. And Mom? I can’t tell her what Ava showed me. I can’t break Ava’s trust.
So, it’s up to me to figure it out on my own.
My parents were happy tonight at dinner, and I soaked up every bit of our time together. The smile on Mom’s face spoke louder than any words she could say. She and Dad exchanged more than one glance, contentment welling inside them both. We were all home, and we were all safe: a parent’s one wish.
And Ava’s constant chattering kept us smiling and reminded me of how much my family means to me and how grateful I am for such moments.
It was nice.
I don’t know what this night will bring. I don’t know if I will even succeed, but one question crops up constantly in the event that I do. Can I return to Eden afterwards? Will the Board let me knowing that I left the city while on restriction? And if they find out I breached the wall, what will be the consequences for my actions? The questions attack like tiny insects, snipping relentlessly at my conscience. They won’t leave me alone, and I fidget with an itchy sensation that makes waiting on Kyle that much more unnerving.
Squatting, I press my back against the coolness of the building and close my eyes. If I return, the consequences will be significant. And they will separate me from Kate for good.
And if I don’t return?
I shudder, and do my best to push the thoughts aside. I can’t think about those things right now.
And then, there’s Ava. Thoughts of her are no less worrisome. She leaves me with the most disturbing unanswered questions of all. And in my conscience, I have to weigh my love for her against my love for Kate. Which one of them will become the victim of my decision to breach the wall?
The moment I see Kyle, I’m on my feet, slinging my pack into place. He meets me on the front steps of the library.
“That doesn’t look out of place at all,” he says, indicating the bulky pack as he swings open the door and gestures for me to follow.
“Couldn’t be helped,” I say. My quiver full of fresh arrows accompanies the pack. “It would be suicide to go without it.”
He nods his assent, and leads me not into the main reading room, but down a dark, side corridor lined with closed doors. He pops open the first one and gestures.
“In here,” he says. “I use it often. It’s practically my own private study room.”
I poke my head through the entrance, my eyes roaming the small area. It’s windowless and dim—a light with a green shade hanging directly above the table the only illumination. It’s a little musty with the smell of old wood. Several books stand in short stacks against the walls. A pad of paper covered in small script sits on the corner of the only table in the room—along with another open book. So Kyle is a student. I wonder what in the world he studies in this private cell. Twelve steps to becoming a spy comes to mind.
He holds the door wide for me to pass through just as a librarian exits the reading room with a set of keys.
“Kyle?” The librarian’s voice echoes in the vast, tiled hallway. “Is that you, dear?”
“Yes ma’am, Gloria.” He shoves me and all my bulk through the entrance before she can notice and takes a step into the light toward her, disappearing from my sight. “I’m just finishing up in here. Not too much longer.”
“Well, all right.” The librarian’s voice is muffled through the door as it swings shut. “I’m locking the front doors now. Just be sure the place is closed tightly when you go. And you can leave the books in the room overnight if you like, as usual.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Kyle joins me, along with my incredulous expression, inside the room.
“You have free reign of the library? How did you manage that?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “My mom was the head librarian for years. I grew up in this place. Everybody knows me, and everybody trusts me. Lucky for you.”
I shrug out of my pack. “Lucky for me,” I repeat.
I study his tall frame as he edges around the side of the table. He takes up the notepad and closes it inside the book.
“So what are we doing here?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” He smiles with a little too much satisfaction. “You have got to learn patience, Ian Roberts. Have they not covered that in class yet?”
I frown. “I’m sure Jones has touched on it. I suppose I’d know if I bothered to attend more often.”
It’s Kyle’s turn to frown. “You’ve got all the answers already? Is that it?”
“I’m patient enough,” I say with irritation. “And I don’t think sitting through a boring class is any way to learn it.”
He chuckles softly, tossing the book onto one of the stacks, and slides into one of the four chairs at the table.
“Really? How long were you waiting out there on the side of the building? An hour? Fidgeting the whole time when you could’ve been spending that hour with the family you might never see again if we botch this thing up? That’s your idea of patience, is it?”
I clench my jaw. I wish he’d just shut it. I don’t need a reminder of the risk I’m taking. I’m quite aware of everything I could lose. I ignore his question.
“So am I supposed to read my way out of the city, or what?” I sit down across from him and lay my bow on top of the table. It’s roughly the same length.
“Nope,” He leans in confidentially. “I’m going to tell you a story.”
I bite my lip, try to muster up some of that patience he thinks I need so badly. He’s really going to waste my time with storytelling in the library? The minutes are ticking by. Dad informed me at dinner that Dr. Phillips, along with Max and Jesse’s parents, requested a search party this morning. This makes it all the more important for me to get out—yesterday. If a search party finds the
m anywhere but in the vicinity of Scarlet Forest, traveling with Outsiders no less, we could be facing more than just restriction. I need to prepare them.
I just wish I had some idea of what that preparation should look like. I can’t shake my misgivings. Something brews in Eden even as we wander the city in oblivion, believing this is the safest, most reliable, self-sufficient place on the planet. We are indestructible.
Ava is indestructible.
Ava is indestructible!
“Do you know how old this library is, Ian?”
I focus on him. So now he’s going to give me a history lesson? We’re talking about the origins of one of the oldest buildings in the city. This could drag on a while.
I sigh in such a way that he won’t miss my lack of interest.
“At least one hundred seven years,” I say smugly. He smiles knowingly.
“Try one hundred seventy, give or take.”
I’m impressed by this knowledge; it proves he’s studied up on his history. But I hide my reaction, fold my arms over the top of the shiny brown table, and wait, wondering how any of this is supposed to get me one step closer to Kate.
“This building and the property it sits on were acquired during the Expansion—when Eden was merely a small compound,” he continues. “Before everything went “offline” in this grand world we live in, and our ancestors were left to pick themselves up out of the mess.” He peers at me. “They did cover the Expansion in your classes, didn’t they?”
I nod, still unclear where he’s going with this. “Yep. Before the Fall, Eden was a research facility—a compound inside a bigger city. The compound continued to add land and stretch its borders until it contained almost one-fourth of the city inside its walls. It’s all in the history of Eden.”
“So you do listen from time to time, huh?” Kyle leans back in this chair and casually crosses his arms over his chest. “Then I guess you know that during the war, the rest of that big city was crawling with enemies. Everything of worth carried off or burned or worse. People gunned down in the streets. Massive explosions that left multiple deadly toxins floating in the air unseen. Anything resembling technology was destroyed. But the world’s greatest compound was sealed tight. And the ones trapped inside of it were the lucky ones.”
My school day lessons come rushing in on me despite my attempts to remain neutral during his little walk down history row. I learned about the devastation when I was twelve, the age our teachers believe us old enough to digest the information impartially. And so they tell us how the world was turned upside down, mass amounts of people killed, technology wiped out in nearly every corner of the earth. Some say those killed ranged in the billions, but no one knows for sure. Either way, that’s a lot of death at the hands of fellow humans.
But Eden, enclosed and fortified, was a source of salvation. The Eternal City. The place of survivors.
“So what’s your point?” I ask, my impatience shining through like a beacon. I toy with the edge of my bow, running a thumb across the smooth curve. “What does this have to do with getting me out?”
“Plenty.” He leans in close enough for me to see myself in his pupils. “You think you know a lot, Ian Roberts. But do you know there’s a network of secret tunnels under the city, and that the most easily accessible entrance to them is right here under this building?”
Now he has my attention. I raise myself a bit in my seat.
“We aren’t sure when they were constructed. We only know they were here before the Fall, possibly a long time before. They’re the reason the compound purchased this place. And they are your ticket out.”
I start to rise. “So? What are we waiting for?”
“The library to clear out, for one. And there’s something else you need to know.”
“Okay. What?” I restlessly settle back into my seat, thirsty to get moving and desperately wishing he’d hurry up.
“Gaskets are installed around the hatches in the tunnels. Each hatch is protected by an equalization chamber, same as at the main gate. He pauses dramatically. “And the other three entrances.”
This revelation is a complete surprise, and for a moment, I forget I’m trying to remain indifferent.
“What other three entrances?”
“The hidden ones, located on each of the other three sides of the city. Used for emergencies only. Which means, up to this point, they’ve never been used—officially, anyway.”
The information is staggering, and I’m numbed into silence. There is only one entrance to the city. I’ve believed this since I was a kid. And now, in the blink of an eye, there are suddenly all sorts of ways into and out of Eden? My heart begins to beat a little heavier, the thudding pulsing in my ears, and I press a fist into my chest in an attempt to slow it. What else am I going to discover today that will contribute to turning the whole of my life into one big lie?
“How do you know all this?” It’s a choked whisper, revealing every bit of my shock to this guard. This guard who’s chosen to let me into his confidences for some reason I still haven’t quite deduced. He only shrugs impassively.
“Some of us are on a need to know… in case of an emergency. I proved trustworthy enough to be assigned to evacuation level training. If something was to happen, and we needed to organize a mass exodus, not everyone could escape out of the one entrance. Chaos would rule. We’re trained to prevent this.”
“And the tunnels?”
He nods. “Another escape method as a last resort. A safe way to get officials out of the city if need be. Of course, I’ve known about them for longer than most current city officials. Used to play in them while my mom worked. Nearly got lost a couple times.”
It is suddenly very hot in this small room, despite my average body temperature, and I stand—somewhat erratically, and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them again the world will resemble something of what I knew four days ago. Pressing my palms flat against the table, I focus on Kyle’s even expression. He has not faltered this entire time. He is as constant as this table, and I find myself wishing he would yell or cry. Something. Instead, he delivers all of this new information with his usual apathy.
“You said they are used for emergencies—to get officials out of Eden. And a mass exodus?” I pause, a burning sensation filling my gut. “Why would we need to evacuate the entire city? I would think running to Eden would be the plan, not running away from it. We’re safer here than anywhere else on Earth.”
I pace around the table and back again while he sits calmly, arms crossed over his chest. I can’t read his face, but his words are even-tempered and eerily decisive, and they send a chill through me because I’ve been questioning this very concept since I brought Tabitha to the city.
“Don’t ever believe that, Ian. The minute you do, you’ll lose a piece of the fight.”
The fight? I stare at him as these words penetrate my conscience. And something else becomes clear—mixed in with all his resolve and his knowledge of too many things. I sit without taking my eyes from his face.
“You didn’t need my help with the Board, did you?”
His smile eases into place. “No. But it got your attention, right?”
“Then why are you helping me?”
He shrugs. “A couple of reasons. One being that I think you’re much more valuable on the outside than you are on the inside.”
My brows crease in confusion, and he laughs softly and leans his elbows against the table, clasping his hands.
“You survived out there—before the Shift—for months. That’s impossible, but you did it. It’s something to admire. I recognize that I could learn a lot from a guy like you. That it would be beneficial for me to listen to you once I’m a Rover. And once you trust me. You’re desperate to get back out there, for whatever reason. If it means that much to you, I think I should help.”
I nod. “Okay,” I concede. I’ll buy this. “So you’ve used these tunnels before? The last time you breached the wall?”
&nbs
p; “I did.”
“And you were successful?”
He purses his lips for a moment, examines his nails. “That depends on your definition for success.”
I’m wary. “I don’t follow you, Kyle. Either you got out, or you didn’t.”
“I didn’t, per say. But the guy I helped got out just fine.”
I relax a bit. “Okay. That’s good news.”
“That was three years ago. He was a friend of my sister’s. I did it for her.”
At his words, the atmosphere in the room changes drastically to match a sudden shift in his emotions. A memory seems to invade, slow and deliberate, and I sense that he somehow paid a price. That perhaps he’s been paying it for the last three years.
“Why did he need to leave?” I ask. “Was he restricted?”
Kyle shrugs. “She never told me, and I didn’t ask. Didn’t care. Until two days later, when she decided to follow him.”
I concentrate on his voice. His eyes have changed into something hard and sad all at once. He’s quiet, thinking. And then he looks straight at me.
“I didn’t know for the longest time if she was dead or not. She was only fifteen. She hadn’t shifted.” He shakes his head. “She knew the risks, and she went anyway.”
I run the edict through my mind. The first rule of an expedition: don’t stray from the group. And she risked the outside alone—before the Shift.
“I should’ve known better.” He clenches his fists, and I see aggravation smash through his passivity for the first time. But then, his fists relax, unballing on the tabletop, and he sighs with the deepest kind of regret. “She was so secretive about it all. She’d given me enough clues. I should’ve known.”
I grasp the arc of my bow with both fists as I let his story sink in.
“You don’t know how many times I stood up on that wall during one of my shifts and watched for her, hoping she’d come straggling up to the door. Weeks turned into months. They found her body by the river.” His voice lacks any kind of emotion. “She’d been there a few days by then. Her throat was slit.”