by Trisha Leigh
“You’re telling me you’ve wanted to get to Portland all this time and now you can’t take the ten steps to get there? Let’s move, kids.”
“Wait.” Pax turns to me, lowering his voice even though the way Griffin talks about his people they probably have superhearing, too, since they’re the greatest things to ever grace the universe for a gabillion years or whatever.
“Remember what I was saying in Wyoming, about distracting the Others so we could at least be a little safer in Portland?”
“Vaguely.” Pamant cracking the ground under our feet had put a rather hasty end to that conversation.
“Well, we need them to think we’re still here. Set some stuff on fire, Summer.”
Understanding dawns, and even though I’m not sure the Others are naïve enough to fall for the ploy, it’s worth a try. Without checking with Griffin, I turn my palms toward the forest. It makes me sad to burn it, even for a good cause, but I swallow the sorrow and let it gather in my belly. It mixes with my irritation at Griffin and the huge expanse of knowledge we’re missing, with my love for Wolf, my concern over Leah and Brittany. Soon it’s too hot to hold in, and I push it hard, out through my skin.
Four trees burst into flames, sending birds screeching for the sky and squirrels searching for new stomping grounds. Pax lifts his own hands, closing his eyes and whipping up a storm that crashes some smaller branches to the earth. Two skip across the ground until they smash into the boundary, exploding into sparks. It might not be enough to get anyone’s attention, although the smoke rising from our handiwork will be easily seen from the windows in town. We can only hope someone will report the anomaly to the Others and they’ll come here and waste some time searching for us in Connecticut while we search for Tommy in Portland.
“Are we ready now, you destructive little fiends?” Griffin’s jaw tightens, as though maybe he’s pissed at us for hurting the nature from which his people apparently sprung.
It crosses my mind to tell him I don’t like it either, but honestly don’t feel like explaining myself since he’s pretty much unwilling to return the favor. Instead, Pax and I walk forward together, and then take the small step over the shimmering threshold into another place.
Before Griffin closes the window I remember Wolf, and turn and pat my leg. He looks uncertain about both the hole and the boy holding it open, but when Griffin starts to let it slip closed, the dog decides he’d rather be with us. Having his warm body at my side provides an instant calm.
Griffin steps through the portal after us, then drops his hands to his side. Before we can thank him, or try to get him to tell us anything more about where we are or what we’re supposed to do now, he leaps into the air, transforms into a huge, golden bird, and disappears into the sun.
CHAPTER 23.
“Okay, did that really just happen?” I give my head a shake, trying to dislodge the surreal image of Griffin. “Did you know he could do that? Change into animals?”
“No. But he was just as big of a jerk when I met him before.”
Pax is right about Griffin’s attitude, but something about the boy makes me hopeful even though arrogance spills out of him like water. Perhaps it’s that he’s so relaxed about the life he leads, as though maybe it’s not as bad as it seems to be under the Others’ thumb. That’s not true, but it is nice to believe it for a moment. “He’s certainly interesting.”
“What, you like him?” Pax’s voice rises at the end, incredulous.
“I don’t like him, exactly. But you have to admit his appearance is interesting. There might be even more people—er, beings—like us. It’s just kind of nice, I suppose, to think we’re not alone.”
He purses his lips as though he tastes something sour. “I suppose. But I don’t trust him. Once he loses whatever interest he has in us, he won’t lift a finger to help anymore.”
It’s true we don’t know why Griffin is helping, other than that Cadi asked him to, but there must be a real reason. I can tell he’s not the type to do anything out of the goodness of his heart. If he has a heart in the first place. “Well, we’re in Portland,” I say, refocusing. “Time to make a plan for finding out what happened to Tommy.”
It’s been a while since I’ve been in this city, but this place does look familiar. I walk a little ways into the trees, Pax at my heels. A large, clear pond tells me Griffin left us in the park. There isn’t a pond in any of the other Sanctioned Cities, a fact I always found curious, since they are otherwise identical.
Voices rise and fall, startling me from my reverie. There shouldn’t be anyone here; we left Danbury after free hour ended on Saturday. Yet people are here, and Pax and I are going to have to make a snap decision on whether to hide or take our chances and try to just act “normal.” Our experience in Connecticut left me confident the protection that keeps people from seeing us for what we are remains mostly in place, although how much longer it will hide us, or how well, is anyone’s guess. We know the Wardens are no longer kicking around Connecticut, but since they learned while interrogating me that we were headed to Portland, they might be waiting for us nearby.
Our hope is that the fire and damage outside Danbury drew them to the east. They saw us disappear outside the ranger’s station; who’s to say we didn’t travel to Connecticut? At the very least, the Others will no longer be positive they know where to find us.
“I say we try to blend in.” Pax meets my eyes, exhibiting a confidence I don’t feel.
“What if the Others haven’t been alerted to what happened in Connecticut yet? They could be waiting for us to show our faces in town.”
“Well, Leah said there haven’t been Wardens in town this winter, and I doubt they’ll risk confusing the humans unless they’re sure we’d be dumb enough to walk straight into a Sanctioned City in the middle of the day. Also, once they do see what we did back there, they’re not going to think we can get all the way to Portland this quickly. The Others know we were walking before and that we can’t control our travels.” They’ve seen us disappear in front of their faces twice, but as far as knowing where we’ll appear, I don’t see how they could know that. “They won’t be certain where to look, but I would guess they’ll think we’d stay in the Wilds, like we have been.” He shrugs.
The reasoning makes some sense, but it still makes me nervous. Plus, we have Wolf.
The dog stares at us, cocking his head back and forth during our whispered discussion as though he can understand what we’re saying. Perhaps he can, but if so, I sure wish he could talk. I bet Wolf would give excellent advice.
None of the kids venture all the way to the boundary, which isn’t a surprise. I was nearly always alone, walking in a loop around the fence that kept us penned in. Only then I believed it was there to keep animals and terrors penned out. What a difference a few months and a mountain of truth have made in my life.
“What are we going to do with Wolf if we go into town? If we’re going to be gone a day or more, I don’t want to leave him.”
Pax stares at Wolf, his lips pulled into a frown. “The thing is, I don’t have anywhere to stay. You can probably still stay with your Portland family, but I don’t have that option.”
Because his family is dead.
Pax doesn’t say the words, but they’re there, hanging in between us like some horrible, unspoken monster. I take a deep breath, trying to puzzle out the best way to get into town and be able to ask questions about Tommy.
“Okay, so after free hour you want me to just go to the Hammonds’ like nothing happened? Then what? Go to Cell on Monday? And you’ll stay out here? With Wolf?”
“Well I want to go to Cell with you. Two pairs of ears are better than one, and if the humans still accept our presence then why not? They won’t think anything of it if we join them. They never have before.”
I consider for a moment, trying to free the thinking part of my brain from the wash of terror at the prospect of not hiding. We’ve been so concerned with no one seeing us, with runnin
g for so long that my body is automatically rejecting the idea of doing the opposite. I want more time to acclimate, to get my brain to accept this new direction.
“I’m not going today. We’ll both stay here tonight, and I’ll go back after free hour tomorrow.” I swallow, urging my heart to slow down. “I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to, and one day in their house, worrying the whole time they’ll wake up and start screaming, is plenty.”
“Summer, you’re being silly. It’s cold out, and we haven’t eaten in a couple of days.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t make sense for him to stay out here, starving and freezing, either. “We shouldn’t split up, though. How about this? We can both sneak into the Hammonds’ after they go to sleep, so I wake up there like normal. That way we’ll be warm, Wolf can hide in my bedroom, and there’ll be food in the kitchen.” It’s a good plan, I think, even if I am probably biased because it means not leaving Pax and Wolf and going into town alone.
Pax smiles, a slow one, but it’s his eyes that catch my breath. “Okay.”
He understands my reasons, which aren’t only leaving them or fear of being discovered. It’s being alone that scares me the most. If we’re separated and something happens, if the Others come or Pax travels…terror quarters my heart at the thought.
The small, niggling fear that Pax’s loyalty still lies with Tommy, and not me, whispers in my ear. The voice reminds me that he left Deshi alone, that he’ll hide instead of fight, if there’s a choice.
***
Later that night, an hour after the adults have retired and Pax and I have made sure there aren’t Wardens pacing the streets, we venture into the city proper. There’s no snow in Portland, and it’s not nearly as cold as it was in Connecticut or on the path we trekked this direction for those two weeks. We could have stayed outside tonight and been fine with body and dog heat, but my stomach is hollow and grumbling, so this is better.
The Hammonds’ house breathes silence around us, warm air welcoming and smelling faintly of onions and garlic. It intensifies the hunger burbling in my middle, eliciting a growl so loud the neighbors might have heard. Pax covers his mouth to staunch the flow of his laughter, and I have to look away to avoid catching it.
“Shh. Let’s get Wolf upstairs, then we’ll find some food.”
He nods. Wolf hesitates at the foot of the stairs, making me realize he’s never been in a real house before, but his trust in me wins out after a minute and he follows us past the closed door of my Portland parents’ room into my old space. The comforter is clean and smooth, the blue and silver strangely comforting in its familiarity. Like always, the room looks like I could have left it this morning, even though this hasn’t been mine for months.
The stairs presented a bit of a problem for Wolf, but the bed is apparently inviting. He leaps right onto it, mud-smeared paws leaving prints everywhere. He must have picked it up in the backyard. I squeak out a protest, but the damage is already done. I didn’t notice him leaving tracks downstairs, but the carpet on the stairs is a mixture of silver and dark gray threads.
Pax shakes his head at the dog, then laughs quietly. “Guess we can add ‘clean the comforter’ to our list of things to do before we leave.”
“You stupid dog.” I scratch his ears and Wolf rolls over on his back, begging for a belly rub. I oblige, but stop when Pax’s stomach rumbles this time. “Stay here with Wolf.”
I wipe up the paw prints on the iron gray kitchen tile, erasing our presence from the kitchen. We scarf down the leftover spaghetti and meatballs from dinner, which I took against my better judgment, since they’ll likely miss it. But it tastes good enough to validate the choice, and as long as things in town stay the same as they’ve always been, the Hammonds will find a way to explain it to themselves in the morning.
Pax and I change clothes, another bonus of staying at the Hammonds. I have drawers of pajamas, and he fits into a pair of gray sweatpants. Almost. They’re too short, with the ankle elastic stretched around his calves. My own clothes hang loose on my frame. There have been too many days without proper nourishment on this journey. We’ll have to find a way around that from here on out, because we need our strength to fight.
I check the door to make sure it’s locked, then crawl into bed, pushing a too-comfortable Wolf out of the way. Pax and I keep the usual distance between our bodies, even though I’m hyperaware of his strong chest, spicy apple scent, and the invisible string trying to yank me against his side.
“So, how did you know Griffin had been following us?” Pax’s baritone vibrates into my chest.
So much for getting some good rest. But honestly, Pax wanting to chat about our situation is a somewhat rare gift, and I snatch it up before he changes his mind. Griffin and his sister have been on my mind all afternoon, too.
“Before you came to the cabin in Iowa, there was a bird with feathers the exact color of his hair and it had those purple eyes. It made waste on me.” My mouth twists at the disgusting memory.
I can tell by the way Pax holds his breath that he’s trying not to laugh, and after a minute the humor is apparent, even though it would have been a lot funnier if Griffin had done that to someone else. “And then I saw a little cat the same color, with the same eyes, in a tree the night we stayed in the underground place in Iowa. Then the lizard in Wyoming, the one that seemed like it really enjoyed scaring me. Same colors. Same attitude.”
“I wish we knew what he wants in return for helping us. Do you think he’s keeping tabs on Winter, too?”
The desire to go back in time and use one of our questions to ask Griffin if Lucas is okay gnaws at my ability to breathe. Why didn’t I think to ask him that? “I don’t know,” I say, hoping Pax can’t hear the tremble in my words. “Maybe he’s as curious as we are, even for all his talk about being superior. Like he thinks what Cadi and Ko believe— that we could expel the Others from Earth and help put things back together. From what he said, the Sidhe had a pretty good thing going here before the Others took over. He might be willing to help us if it meant reclaiming his spot at the top the food chain.”
“Could be. He doesn’t seem the type that enjoys being bossed around.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad he showed up today.” I change the subject, trying to steer us toward the immediate future. “Are we just going to ask about Tommy at Cell on Monday?” Pax’s summer brother was a lot younger than us; he would have still been in Primer Cell, but everyone will know what happened. It was on the news, but part of me worries the Others changed people’s memories the way they did after Mrs. Morgan disappeared. That whatever they tell us will be what the Others want us to know, not what actually became of the little boy.
“Yes. People are always gossipy when there’s a Break and the Wardens show up. If they remember, they’ll tell us, maybe at lunch.” Pax’s voice goes soft.
I know how he feels. It tore me apart, having to act as if it wasn’t anything more than an interesting event after Mrs. Morgan Broke. “And then what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it depends on what we find out.”
Neither of us speaks for a few moments, but I’m not ready to stop talking yet. “You never told me how they explained the Sullivans having two children.”
On Earth, Partners used to have more than one baby, but the Others determined the practice unnecessary, and the question has bothered me for weeks.
“Tommy isn’t their real son, either. Mrs. Sullivan’s sister Broke while she birthed Tommy and his father died from a heart condition a year later. The Others placed him with my parents before I ever started staying with them.”
“Oh.”
Pax doesn’t seem to want to talk anymore, and after a few minutes my eyes drop closed. Our world might not be anything close to perfect, and we’re likely the least safe beings on all of Earth, but tonight we’re warm and indoors. It worries me what will happen if Pax finds out that Tommy Broke, that the Others took him away. He won’t hav
e anything pushing him forward anymore. I want to tell him that horrors lurk in all of our pasts, and there are people I wish I could go back and help, but that going back is impossible.
The only thing we can do is move forward.
Pax’s breathing evens out while I hold my tongue, and comfort sits stubbornly outside my grasp. Contentment won’t ever be mine as long as Lucas isn’t beside me, as long as Leah and Brittany are in danger, and as long as we have no idea how to accomplish the impossible task set before us.
After we learn what we can in Portland, I’m moving on. I can only hope that Pax will want to come, too.
CHAPTER 24.
The next morning, Mr. Hammond’s voice telling me it’s time to get up startles me out of what must have been a nice, deep sleep. I can’t believe we slept through the rising of the sun, the dawn of a new day. Relief that we locked the bedroom door uncoils my tense muscles, poised to run if my fake father came in and found me in bed with a boy and a dog.
“Morning,” Pax mumbles.
Pax’s grin is even slower in the mornings. It’s sleepy, too, I suppose. I smile back, trying not to breathe on him before I brush my teeth. My bare feet hit the thick carpeting as I head for the connected cleansing room. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Just the idea of getting to take a hot shower fills my body with expectation, making me realize how much the Others provide and how easily I took it for granted my entire life. Hot water, a roof, parents, food three times a day—it would almost seem as though they care about what happens to us, except we know they don’t. Not in the end.
Curiosity needles my skin along with the pinpricks of scalding water, shooting questions at my brain. Why do the Others need humans alive and cooperative? What do they take from our planet that sustains them? How much is there, and when will it run out?
In spite of how much we’ve learned so far, the number of facts we don’t know remains larger by at least half. And all of the important questions are still waiting to be answered, with us clueless as to how to go about getting them.