Follow Me Through Darkness (14 page)

“Wonder what?”

My mind drifts back to the conversations we’d had before. The times when I asked him if he wanted anything for himself, if he’d wondered what it would be like to be unconnected from me. He’d always said no, and I never had the heart to tell him that it was the one thing I did want.

“I think our feelings for each other may not be real,” I say.

Thorne’s eyes get wide, and I feel his confusion and anger and sadness all at once. I close my eyes and try to ignore what he’s feeling, but it’s too strong. Too mixed with my own guilt and confusion.

“Think about it. If the branding causes twins to be connected-we can feel each other’s emotions-who can say that our love is real and not manufactured? What if it’s all a trick of the Elders? What if that’s what they want from me?”

Thorne looks away from me, and he says nothing at first. He paces the floor, leaning in and resting his hands on a window ledge with no glass. He’s quiet for too long, and then he’s looking at me again. His warm eyes bore into mine, and it’s impossible to ignore the angry, determined rush through the connection.

“You don’t love me.” His voice is broken and unlike anything I’ve heard from him before. It pierces my heart because I do love him. That’s what makes all this so difficult.

“I do.”

“You just said you didn’t!”

“I said what if it’s not real. That’s not the same as I don’t love you. I do love you. That’s why I need to understand what parts of our relationship are really
us
and what parts are because of the branding.” Thorne runs his hand through his dark hair, and I try to keep my frustration in check. “I don’t want to be their pawn. This is our life. It’s not a game. Whatever they are doing, we have to stop them.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe. “You’ve always felt that way. That you wanted to be your own person.” He looks at me, his eyes dark and glassy. “Do you think I somehow make you less? Because all these years, I thought we were one. There’s a reason we’re branded together, Neely.”

“And you don’t think that reason could be because of the Elders?” I pause. I know my words aren’t what he wants to hear, but I have to say them to him. I have to be honest about this possibility. “I don’t know the truth, Thorne, and I need to.”

I don’t look away from him because I need him to understand, but now it feels as if I have placed a wall between us where there never was one before. I think he realizes that some of the questions I’ve had for my whole life, questions he dismissed, have been building up to this moment that neither of us was ready for.

“So it was never about my family or the other people in the Compound? It was about you and this quest.”

I shake my head. “It’s about all of that. It’s connected. Can’t you see that? Us and the branding. Them and the branding. The new Compound and the Ultimate Compliance. Whatever the Elders are looking for and why they want me. It’s one thing.”

“What’s the connection?”

I shrug with a breath. I wish I knew. Thorne glances to the ground, thinking. I can’t feel anything through our connection; he’s blocked me out. I take his hand, even though he doesn’t want me to. The wall between us is too jarring. It must come down, crumble.

“I love you, Thorne. I do, and I want to know why the Elders targeted us, what is real and what isn’t.” I say, yet even I don’t fully understand how. “The Elders want me for something. They want you for another thing. They want to separate us, and they’ll hurt so many people. They already have. Being out here has already made me see that. We can’t trust them. Nothing about them. And this-” I say, pointing to the branding on his neck. The other half of me. “This is them. It makes us theirs.”

He looks up at me, and his gaze is unfamiliarly painful, almost lost. I did that to him. My voice comes out cracked and broken, not my own at all. “I want to be
us
. Without them. Without this thing. And I want everyone else in the Compound to have that, too.

Thorne shakes his head. “That’s the part that hurts the most, Neely. Without this thing, without them, who’s to say we’d ever be anything? And you just want to-what? Rip it away? Stop it? Change us?”

“Thorne-”

“No,” he says. His jaw is tensed, and heat runs through me. “You say you want to find out what’s real about us. Well, I already know.
Everything
. And you say you love me, but what if you find out that our branding really is what makes you love me? And me, you? Then what?” I inhale. “You’ll separate us. Just like the Elders were already planning to do. You’d be destroying us.”

We stare at each other, and I’m not sure what to say to that. I would let them remove the branding, I would, and he’s right.

Thorne sighs. “You’re going to let the Mavericks take it away. It’s not just a marking, Neely, it’s a symbol of us. You’re going to destroy it, and if you do and our feelings do really go away, you can only blame yourself.”

“I get it,” I say. Tears push at my eyes, but I don’t let them out. Thorne turns away from me, and I watch his back move as he inhales. “You’re right, okay? I’m no better than them, but if I have to destroy us in order to save everyone else, then I will. And I’ll figure out how to live with that and be all right knowing that I gave everyone else a chance.”

He turns so quickly to face me, and his eyes are brimmed in red. “You separate from me can never be all right.”

I shake my head because I can’t speak. The betrayal and the pain in his eyes release the tears I’ve been fighting. Thorne sighs, and his emotions shift, suddenly more calm and sure. I feel some of my anxiety lift, and I know he’s taken some of it from me.

“You and I are the real thing, Neely.”

“I want to believe you,” I say.

“Then trust in us more than you distrust the Elders.” Thorne takes my face in his hands so I’m forced to look at him. “Trust in me.”

“I do.”

He presses his forehead against mine. “Then we’ll find out the truth together, and we’ll decide. I wouldn’t risk everyone at home either, but we are in this together. No more secrets, Neely.”

I nod. “I just want us all to be freed from them. Completely.”

“We will be,” he says.

Then he closes the space between us, and I am whole. Enough that, for a single second, I let myself forget that I’m searching for a way out of this feeling, this wholeness. In searching for a way to make this completely real, I could lose all I know. I want to believe we are real. I want to believe in him and that his promise to free me means I can still, somehow, believe in us. I want to believe until there are no more days.

15 MONTHS BEFORE ESCAPE

MY FAVORITE DAYS ARE
Wednesdays. In the mornings, I have my placement, and I get to teach the smaller children. I like how hungry they are to learn. The alphabet is my favorite thing to teach them. To show them how letters form words and words build sentences and sentences create stories and stories are life. I stumble into the kitchen, already smiling at the thought of their faces when we learn F through J. I’ve thought of fun words. Frog and fang. Grapes and goats. Horses and—

“Morning, Cornelia,” Father says
.

I pause in the doorway of the kitchen at the sight of my father standing over the stove. He’s never here in the mornings anymore. My eyes wander to the clock. It’s seven
.

“This is a surprise,” I say
.

He has this huge smile on his face when he looks over his shoulder at me. It always takes me by surprise when I see that glowing white smile on his face. In those moments, my father looks younger than he is and seems to forget the load he’s carrying as the director
.

“I wanted to be with you this morning. I know you have placement, but I’ve got a big meeting with the Elders today and I’ll miss dinner. So I rearranged some things,” he says
.

I smile. “I’m glad you’re here, too, then.” I move closer to the stove, and the smell that comes from it makes my stomach rumble. “What’s all this?”

“Ah,” Father says. He opens the oven door, and the aroma seeps out. “This was Amelia’s recipe. Sara found it earlier this week in some old boxes of Richard’s and gave it to me. This was always my favorite thing she cooked.”

My eyes widen when I look inside and see the golden brown of toasted sweet bread. Next to it is another dish that looks like eggs and cheese and peppers
.

“They’re delicious-trust me.”

“I do,”
I say.

Father and I sit around the table, waiting for the food to finish, and he tells me a story about one of the first meals Mother ever cooked for him and how bad it was. He laughs while he talks about her. He’s being really open about her today and I’m not sure why, but I soak in the stories
.

When breakfast is ready, he waits for me to try it with eyes wide. I nod in approval after my first bite of each. They are both pretty amazing
.

“Why are the Elders coming?” I ask
.

His fork freezes mid-bite. I study the tension in his jaw, the hardness in his eyes, and the way his fingers turn white against the fork. He hates talking about the Elders, especially with me. “I can’t tell you much, Neely.”

“Right,” I say. “Sorry.”

The Elders are a big mystery. They only come to our Compound to see my father. With six other Compounds to run, I’m sure they’re busy. I’ve only seen them once, and I was two. They came when my grandfather died, so I don’t remember anything about them except these big, black hooded robes and how I clung to Sara’s leg at the sight of them
.

He pauses. “They’re only coming to headquarters for a couple hours. They have a new method of practice to discuss with me. I’m sure it will be boring, really.”

I press my fork into the French toast and watch while the syrup falls out over my plate. The last time we talked about the Elders together was before my placement eight months ago, when they demanded that I begin studying for my role as director and I begged my father to let me teach. Just for one year, and then I had to start my placement with the new session. I know it wasn’t meant to be forever, but it could’ve postponed things. I won’t become director until he dies or until the Elders tell me to take over, but I have to learn and train. I have to be prepared
.

Father rests a hand on mine, and I look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I only have four more months,” I say
.

He moves his hand and sighs. “I know being director isn’t the future you wanted, but it’s not one you can control.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want it either when I was your age,” he says, lowering his voice. “Your mother was the one who helped me see that it was where I was meant to be, and then I accepted it. Maybe someone can show you that, too, and then you’ll be ready.”

I nod, but it’s not the reassurance I want. I want him to tell me that he’ll figure out a way to keep me from being trapped in a job I don’t want for my whole life. I want him to say he’ll work it out
.

“You have four more months, Cornelia. And then after that, we can reevaluate.”

“Reevaluate?”

He lowers his fork. “I can’t change your position, but I can maybe get you some more time so you can keep teaching.” I squeal excitedly. “No promises.”

I launch myself from the table and into his arms. “I’ll take it,” I say
.

My father hugs me against his chest. “I should go soon,” he says
.

Before I leave for class, my father is already gone. On the counter is a note, and I smile because I was sure he wouldn’t leave one since he saw me this morning, but it’s a nice surprise
.

I know you’ll be ready for whatever comes—you get that stubbornness from me. It’s a good thing and you’ll need it because there’s so much left to discover
.

DEADLINE: 23D, 13H, 47M

EL PASO, TEXAS

AFTER TWENTY MINUTES EXPLORING
the El Paso Remnant camp that was marked on Xenith’s map, Thorne and I have not seen a single person. There aren’t many places they could be, and it’s quiet, early morning. A few remains of buildings line the street.

“Hello?” Thorne calls out into the silence. There’s no response. “This place seems abandoned.”

“No,” I say. “There’s got to be something here.”

We walk down the dirt road, through the old buildings and the overgrown plants. There’s no movement. Everything is so silent. Too silent.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Thorne says.

Something moves behind him. I don’t see what, but a bush sways from the sudden motion. Thorne sends me an odd look when I move past him, my finger over my lips. He’s right behind me as I walk, tracing my steps like a shadow.

I only take four steps before a shrill whistle pierces the air.

My stomach jumps in my throat at the painfully familiar sound. The Cleaners. I see them then in the sky: large, dark, metal machines. Thorne yells something, but I can’t hear over the sound. I grasp his arm, ignoring the burn of the branding.

“Run!” I yell in his ear and pull him after me.