I twisted to look over my shoulder, whispering under my breath for the air current to come rescue us. It happily agreed, tousling my hair before wrapping itself around me, Saffediene, and Jag.
“Land,” I whispered to the wind, meeting Saffediene’s eyes as we began to soar across the water.
“So you can control the elements, huh?” she said, not really asking and not really accusing either, which I appreciated. We stared at one another for a few long breaths. Long enough for me to notice the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Long enough for me to forget I was a twenty-minute hoverboard ride from safety. Long enough for me to wonder why I’d never seen her properly before.
Then the moment broke. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat and directed the northerly to take us away from prying Freedom eyes.
Vi launched herself at me and cried into my neck before bustling off to sit with Jag. She and Pace disappeared into the hospital nook, leaving me and Saffediene alone in the war room.
The cavern permeated sadness. It seeped from the very rocks themselves, clogging everything and everyone with melancholy. I inhaled slowly, but the thought of staying in the confines of this sadness choked me.
I turned and strode toward the exit, desperate to escape. Escape the cavern. Escape the sadness.
Escape my life.
Saffediene found me a half hour later, my back against a skinny tree trunk, facing away from Freedom. She sat down without speaking. She picked at the wild grass, and strangely, I didn’t mind her presence.
“Gunner asked me to go with you to Harvest. We’re leaving at dusk,” she said.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. Whatever, I wanted to add. The Director of Harvest could wait. Saffediene must’ve heard the pain in my voice, because she slipped her hand into mine.
Her skin felt startlingly cold; her hand was dwarfed by mine. I loved Vi, but this was the first meaningful human contact I’d had in a long time, and I didn’t want to let go.
So I didn’t.
We sat that way under the tree, palms pressing together, until the sun started its arcing descent to the west.
Jag
11.
Walls surround me on every side. Above, below, there is no escape. And it’s wildly hot. So hot, my fingertips feel blistered from touching the metal several hours ago. Maybe they are, I can’t exactly see.
There’s only miles and miles of darkness; endless metal, smooth in every direction, maybe without corners, maybe not.
I can’t tell anymore. I don’t know how much time has passed. I made it all the way to the vineyards in White Cliffs before the vanishing tech had worn off. With the teleporter ring, I’d escaped scrape after scrape, always landing in an unknown city.
I could figure out my new location pretty fast. I mean, I have the entire Association memorized, and whenever I used the ring, I always had the image of Vi in my head. I liked to think my destination had something to do with her.
The first time I teleported, back in early July, I landed on the beach. Violet loved the beach. I didn’t know if she was on a similar beach at the time, but that’s what I imagined.
That way, our separation didn’t hurt so much. That way, my heart didn’t feel like a fish out of water, flopping and useless.
The teleporter ring ran out of juice by August. Who knew that could happen? Well, me now, I guess.
I’d flung the ring at the approaching guard in Baybridge, nailing him in the left eye. That’s how I’d made it out of that alley. Seemed everyone in the whole blasted Association was looking for me.
I spent the fall on the run, moving from one Midwestern city to another. No one would hire me—my skin held too much sun, and that called everything about me into question. Then officers/guards/patrols would be summoned, and my picture would come up on every screen.
Forcing me to run again.
Sure, I relied on my network of Insiders every step of the way. I knew the hideouts. I knew most of the leaders, if only by name or picture. They certainly all knew me.
My hair went from black to blond to brown and back. An Insider in Northepointe provided me with eye enhancements in October. I got a work permit. I shoveled snow for months.
And I hate being cold. But the bulky suits—and hats—kept me off the radar. It’s my mouth that always puts me back on it.
I choke inside the capsule. There’s not enough air. They know it; they come fill it every few hours.
How long has it been? I don’t know. I take another breath, but I can’t tell if it’s filled with oxygen or only my own exhalations.
There’s only darkness—and the memories inside my own head.
I don’t like remembering. It makes me feel weak, like I should’ve done something different—like I could’ve done something different, if only I had been stronger. Better.
Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.
I’ve been buried alive. I try not to think it, but the horror is always there.
The capsule is so permanent.
The darkness is so heavy.
It’d be so easy to die.
My eyes are already closed. My body is already in the tomb. My girl is already gone.
At the thought of Vi, I force another breath through my body. Her face, fair and fierce, floats in the recesses of my mind.
I can’t give up on her. On us. She’s sustained me through difficult situations before, maybe she will this time too.
I can’t feel my feet now. Or my fingers—even the painful, blistered ones. I slump against the metal behind me. Hot, burning threads snake down my back, but I can’t move. Don’t even have the energy to whimper.
I’m dying, I think. They’ve won.
Pure, unadulterated fury accompanies that thought. I thrash against the darkness, but I can’t clear it away. My eyes are open; my voice screams.
“They will not win!” I yell so loud my throat rips. “You will not win!”
Inside my metal prison, I’m met with only an echo. No one comes. No one comes. No one comes.
There is no rescue from this hell.
I clawed at something that had been put over my eyes. My heart pounded in my throat; I swung my free arm to feel the space around me, and I made contact with a soft body.
“Jag, it’s Indy.”
My head throbbed. I blinked, trying to see. Indistinct shapes hovered in the room; the lights were too dim to really see who was there.
The light meant I was not in the capsule. I inhaled. Oxygen existed here.
“Relax, bro,” someone said. My brother.
“Pace.” An endless depth of relief surged through me. “Help me.”
“We’re trying,” he said. “You’re beating us back.”
My leg pulsed with my heartbeat. The skin along my back pulled, as if a thousand little teeth had found a home there. “What happened? Where’s Vi?”
“She’s here,” Pace said. “She just stepped out to get a bite to eat.”
“You’re all busted up,” Indy said. “Pace has been attending to your injuries.”