Follow Me Through Darkness (7 page)

When I open my eyes again, I move a few steps away from the hole. Around me, the Old World is more beautiful than I’d imagined. I was outside only briefly before-the distance between the truck and the entrance to the Burrows-but this place is very much alive. The sky is endless blue, pearly and bright, and scattered with white clouds. The sun shines through thin trees, its rays dancing off the few leaves. Browning grass stretches across the landscape, tall and bushy and tinged with broken pieces of blackened concrete and rocks. Just beyond I make out the shapes of buildings. Most of them aren’t complete anymore, but even from this distance, I can imagine what they used to be. I want to go see them closer, but they seem farther away than I have time for now.

Once all of this is over, I will come back.

I will go anywhere I can and learn about the Old World. Before the fall, before the Preservation, before this.

If I survive, then I will go everywhere.

I place the now-empty bottle in my pack, and the brown paper map crinkles when I take it out. I smooth it out so I can read over it one more time. I have it all memorized, but I want to see it there again. To be reassured that this trip is what I need to do. More Remnants died than I can count, and now I have to fight for them along with myself and Thorne and everyone else.

Odessa, Texas.

Little arrows trail off the name and point to the directions. Cecily Lopez is supposed to be here in something Xenith said was called a casino, and she’s expecting me. I stuff the map into my pack and walk west as Xenith wrote out on the page. I leave everything behind to burn, but I know as I go away from it that this place will haunt me. Maybe forever. Definitely until this is done.

2 YEARS BEFORE ESCAPE

WHEN MY DAY IS DONE,
I go straight to the barrier near the ocean. Something about this place calls to me. It has left some kind of mark on my soul, a mark I’m not sure I can make go away. Thorne has warned me not to be here. Kai has warned me. Sara has told me in her own way. But I can’t stay away
.

“You should set up a tent so you can sleep out here,” Xenith says
.

I look at him with a smile. “If I did, you’d always know where to find me.”

“I already do,” he says. His hair is getting longer, hanging in his face like Thorne’s does. “You really shouldn’t be out here all the time.”

“I’ve heard.” We are both silent, but his gaze on me is too intense. “I should go.”

“Are you my friend, Neely?” Xenith asks. I don’t move, but he does and I am frozen to this spot
.

“Yes,” I say. “I think so.”

“I don’t have many friends,” he says. He’s a heartbeat away from me, and my breath stops in my chest. I’m not sure what’s happening, but the look in his eyes is unfamiliar. His hand is on my arm, on my cheek, in my hair. My eyes lock with his, and I know he’s planning to kiss me. Do I want him to kiss me? Xenith says my name softly, and then he’s on the ground
.

Thorne is standing in the spot where Xenith just was, cursing. Xenith crawls across the sand, cradling his face. Thorne looks at me, and I feel his emotions through our connection. The anger, the fear, the jealousy. Thorne moves toward Xenith again, his foot inches from Xenith’s body before I stop him
.

“Don’t!” I yell to Thorne. I pull him away. “Don’t.”

“He
was-”

“It’s nothing,” I say
.

“You don’t own her,” Xenith hisses
.

I slide my hand into Thorne’s. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.” I need to get one of them away, so I pull at Thorne, say his name. He looks at me. “Don’t.”

He nods slowly and tosses another look at Xenith before he pulls me away, our hands still attached. I steal a glance back at Xenith, but he’s already gone
.

Thorne doesn’t let go of my hand as he pulls me up the beach. I say his name, try to get him to stop, but he ignores me. We’re almost to the house before I manage to pull my hand loose from his grip
.

“What’s wrong with you?” I yell at him. His back is to me, and he’s breathing hard. I can see his chest expand and retract. “What was that?”

“He was going to kiss you!” Thorne turns to face me. “I know that,” I say. My voice is low at his expression. Thorne’s emotions run through me like heat and weight and pain. The idea of me and Xenith is hurting him and it shouldn’t. Xenith doesn’t mean anything to me. The wind picks up around us, tossing the waves across the shore, as we walk toward the housing units
.

“You were going to let him kiss you?” He crosses his arms, indignant in his stare
.

I cross my arms back at him. I don’t owe him an explanation. “Not that it matters, but no.”

“No what? You weren’t moving. He was.”

“You don’t know what happened back there. You just came in and punched him!” I don’t know why I’m yelling or why I’m defending Xenith. I’m embarrassed. I’m frustrated and angry with Thorne. “You don’t have a say.”

“I don’t have a say?”

“No,” I snap
.

“Fine. You can kiss whomever you want to kiss, Neely. I don’t care. I’m sure he’ll open the door right up for you if you go to him.” Thorne takes a few steps away from me, his hands clenched at his side
.

“I’ve never wanted to kiss Xenith! You’re such an idiot!” I yell after him. I turn around, too, and walk in the opposite direction. I don’t care, though. I don’t want to be anywhere Thorne is
.

A hand is on my shoulder, whipping me around. I see a mass of brown hair and then feel the smooth sensation of lips on mine. It takes a second for me to catch my breath and register what’s happening. Thorne is kissing me. His hands are on me, and my lips are glued to his, not wanting to be anywhere else. Then his lips are gone. He takes a step back, and we look at each other
.

Thorne just kissed me
.

“What was that?” I ask
.

He smiles, any traces of his anger gone. At least temporarily. “That was something I’ve wanted to do since I was thirteen.”

Thirteen. He’s had feelings for me as long as I have for him
.

“What stopped you?”

“My mom and our situation. She didn’t want it to be odd for anyone else,” he says. “But I don’t care about them anymore.”

He reaches his hand out to me and pulls me forward. His lips find mine again, and this time I’m ready. I let them take me over, and my hand slides over his back. A shock rushes through my body, a fire, a spark that works from the inside out. I pull him closer. My heart pounds, on the brink of explosion. I’m on fire. For the first time, I’m whole. I’m alive. The other things don’t matter, and his touch fills that missing piece
.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to do that,” Thorne says in my ear. “We need to do that more often.”

I nod, smiling. “Do you feel different?”

He looks at me. His fingers trail up my arm and leave a warm sensation in their path. To anyone else, the question would’ve seemed odd, out of place. A kiss can’t change you. But Thorne only nods. “I feel you more than I did before.”

“Me too,” I say. He kisses my forehead. I feel it in my toes. His hand squeezes mine, and I feel it in my heart. His lips touch mine, gentle and quick. It lingers on my soul, the imprint of a shadow in the light
.

DEADLINE: 30D, 12H, 5M

ODESSA, TEXAS

THERE IS SO MUCH LIGHT AROUND ME,
and it’s a refreshing change. I feel more awake, more connected. The city I walk through is lined with old houses, not very different from the ones in the Compound. There they are also uniform, though not as big as some of these appeared to be from far away. Aside from the houses, I pass large stores, not tall like the faraway buildings, but long. Imprints of words align on the sides, though mostly I can only make out a few letters. A “W” and a sign that’s shaped like a jagged square and a circle. Whatever they were, I don’t know now. I pass a large building with many broken doors that all connect. There’s no top anymore, and most of the left side has been destroyed.

I’m surprised that they have held up this long. The Preservation was hundreds of years ago. Even in its brokenness, this world is beautiful. Deep browns and grays of sand and mountains spread out across the horizon. Decrepit buildings stand with overgrown greens. What was it like when it was thriving and alive with people? When the buildings were whole? It’s not nearly as bad as the Elders painted it, but then again, if they had told us of its beauty, maybe more of us would have been discontented by the Compound.

I walk down a street of endless nothing. There are no remains of other buildings, no houses, just trees and dirt and hot concrete. Everything is hot in Texas. The street I’m on turns left and onto a bridge. Xenith said Cecily would be on the other side.

Pieces of the bridge are missing when I walk across. The holes are small enough that I can go around them, but there are more as I continue on. What if the piece I’m standing on decides to crumble and take me with it down into the water? I would die here before I even made it anywhere. I’d be dead just like all the people in the Burrows. Like Bayard.

An ache forms in my chest. He would never have fought to get out. Even if he was harsh at the beginning of our journey, I understand him now, and I miss him. Bayard made it clear that the Burrows were his home, that there was nothing that could separate him from them and nowhere else he wanted to be. He wouldn’t have been able to live, to press on and move forward, while carrying so much grief. He would never have liked it above or been able to carry the loss. Those were the people he loved. He would die for them, and he did.

Selfishly, I hope that’s not my fate.

A breeze blows around me, whipping my hair through the air, and Thorne would love it. He would love the way this bridge stands here, even though it’s falling apart. He’d stick his hands through the holes and touch everything-the sides with the jagged edges and the beams that run every way. I can almost feel his excitement coursing through me, even though he’s not here. He’d call it “marvelous” and “unique,” and he’d joke about jumping into the water, even though he’d never, ever let either of us do it.

I miss him.

Across the bridge, the landscape leads to more brown. There’s not much green here, trees or leaves or otherwise, and a large, red building fills my view. That’s the one. Xenith said I would know it.

The doors open when I push them, and step inside slowly. It’s so eerily quiet that everything inside me wants to run out.

“Anyone here?” I call into the dark, stale room. I prop the door open to let in some light, and then rub my hands together nervously. A tingle jolts through my body, the same way it does when Thorne and I feel each other through the connection. I miss him so much I’m imagining things now. “Hello? I’m looking for Cecily Lopez. I come from SMC128.” There’s no response. No indication that anyone is even here. I have one more card to play. I inhale the stale air. “Xenith Taylor sent me here.”

There’s only silence. I feel the tears building up inside, but I push them down. I haven’t come this far to cry. They’ll let me in. They have to.

I lean back against a large machine, and a pole hanging off of it rams into my arm. At closer inspection, the pole is more like a handle. I pull down on it but nothing happens. There are four little squares above the lever, and all of them contain pictures. One looks like a cherry.

A loud voice echoes in the darkness. “Nay-hm?”

I jump at the sound and brace myself against the machine. Someone is speaking to me-a man’s voice- but I’m not sure what he’s asking for or where he is.

“Excuse me?” I ask, searching the darkness for movement.

“Don’t move,” the voice calls, and I freeze, ignoring the prickles running up my arms. “State your name.”

“Neely Ambrose,” I say quickly.

There’s only more silence on the other end. Then a loud buzzing sound fills the room.

“The door is to your left,” the voice says to me. “Go down the hallway. Turn left. Knock twice on the third door.”

I do what he says, and it’s easy to find. The hallway is simple enough and the ceiling is tall, wide open, and vast. I try to imagine what it was like to see this place in its prime. Large chandeliers bright and beautiful when they were lit. Tall ceilings and long hallways. There are no pictures on the walls, only marks where they used to hang. Like everything in this forgotten world.

The third door is white, and my fingers run across the grain as I knock on it. There’s a scuffle behind the door, a thud, and then a
click
as it opens to me. A man hovers over me, big and tall, muscle and fat interweaving to make him monstrous. He grunts in my direction.

“I’ve journeyed here to meet the survivor,” I say.

He holds a hand up to me. “Neely Ambrose?”

I nod. The big guy looks me over, top to bottom, before he grunts and pushes the door open. I exhale and take half a step forward.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he says. I catch a glimpse of an object that catches the light tucked into his belt-a gun?-as I enter. Something heavy settles in my stomach, the familiar feeling of anxiety.

Candles and a large fireplace dimly light the room. It’s warm in here. My body is tingling. Directly in front of me sits an older woman. She only has one eye-the other is covered with some kind of patch, and my stomach leaps into my chest as her eye follows us across the room.

“Are you Cecily Lopez?” I ask.

She gives a curt nod but doesn’t greet me otherwise, only watches me through sallow skin and sharp lines that decorate her face. Her hair is streaked brown and gray, wrapped in a tight bun atop her head. “Have a seat.” Her voice is rough and hoarse, as if she grew up eating glass.

There’s a chair opposite her. I’m halfway to it when I see him and gasp, sudden emotions flooding my body all at once.

Thorne is standing right in front of me.

3 DAYS BEFORE ESCAPE

THORNE IS IN FRONT OF ME
on the other side of the opened door. His back is to me, but I would know him anywhere. When I see him, I wedge myself behind the wall and door and try not hit it. If it moves, then he’ll see me, too. Why is he here? I press my ear to the wood, careful not to close it the last half an inch, though I’m sure he can hear my heart pounding against it. If the door closes, he’ll know someone else is here, and he can’t know that. Why is he here? I can’t see his face, and I want to. The thought makes my heart pound faster
.