When the guard is convinced our papers are in order, he lets us pass, then puts out a call to Asher’s grandmother to come pick us up at the guard’s station; she is going to keep us while we look for a doctor that can help me.
Asher tries leading me away toward the steps, but I pause. “What about Gavin?”
“What about him?”
“How will he get in? He doesn’t have a visa. The guards won’t let him in.”
His eyes fill with something that looks like regret—maybe sadness—but then he sighs. “Wait here.”
He turns back around and talks to the guard. His words slur in his exhaustion. “There was another member of our party. His name is Gavin Hunter.” He pulls out the visa again, then points to Gavin’s name. “He was separated from us in the Outlands. Will you make sure he’s able to get into the city and call my grandmother when he arrives?”
“Yes, sir,” the guard says. “I’ll just place his name in the book. But, between you and me,” he glances at his partner, “you might want to come up and check yourself for the next few days. Not everyone checks the book.…”
At first I’m not sure what he’s getting at by letting his words trail off like that, but then the word bribe enters my mind. Without our supplies, we have nothing to offer the guards. Nothing to ensure Gavin’s name will even make it into the book, much less earn him passage into the city.
“I understand. Thank you,” Asher says, stifling a yawn. The guard appears disappointed, but says nothing.
I stare at Asher, desperate for a solution. I know he thinks Gavin didn’t make it, but in my heart I know he’s still out there. If I had any money, I would give it all to ensure his safety. I hate being dependent on Asher. I hate that we don’t have anything to offer these lazy men. My eyes sting, but I’m too dehydrated to cry.
“I’ll have someone from my grandmother’s house bring them what they want,” he whispers to me.
“Thank you.” I press a hand to my trembling lips, grateful for even this small promise.
“Anything for such a pretty lady.” Even though his voice lacks the normal smoothness that he instills into each syllable, his eyes sparkle in amusement when he says it.
I laugh, grateful for the relief, and roll my blurry eyes.
We sit at the bottom of the steps on the other side of the guard station. My back aches from the hard stone beneath my sore hips, but the relief from sitting and making it to the city is sweet and, just when I find myself starting to fall asleep, a huge hunk of metal squeals to a halt in front of us. I pull my feet away from it, gasping and pressing a hand to my racing heart.
I glance up at Asher. “That’s a car,” I say, astonished.
He chuckles. “Yes, it’s a car. It’s my grandmother’s car, in fact.”
“It works?” I ask, dumbfounded and continuing to stare at the big machine. It looks the same as those other ones—the ones in the abandoned city—but it’s shiny and actually moving. It’s kind of pretty, really.
This time he snorts and his laugh is deep, seeming to come from deep in his chest. “I should hope so, or Grandmother wouldn’t be a very happy woman.”
As if on cue a person rushes around to the back of the car from the opposite side and pulls a lever on the side of it. A door opens and a woman with steel gray hair steps through the opening. She smiles when she sees Asher, then turns the smile to me, but it wobbles and her eyes widen when I smile back.
She shoots a glance at Asher. “This is her?” she asks in this deep, smoky voice.
He nods and slips an arm around my waist, pulling me toward him in a possessive manner I’m not entirely sure I like. “Yes. This is Evie.”
She grabs my chin gently in her surprisingly smooth hands. She stares at me and I firm my lips into a line. I don’t like how closely she’s studying me, as if she recognizes me somehow. Then she startles me when her lip quivers and her eyes become shiny.
“Eli,” she whispers.
I peek at Asher, who knit his brow together.
“Grandma?” he asks.
She steps away with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, dear. For a minute, you reminded me of someone I used to know.” She hugs Asher and pulls me into the same hug. “Come on. You’ll both be more comfortable after a hot shower and some clean clothes.”
Wary, but grateful, I step forward into the car and slither onto the car’s backseat next to Asher’s grandma and wait for Asher to slide in after me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Adolescent female of European descent. Extreme pallor, signs of dehydration, multiple wounds in various stages of healing. Patient cooperative, but semi-conscious, unable to provide any details of how injuries were sustained.
—EXCERPT FROM TREATMENT NOTE OF RUSHLAKE CITY PHYSICIAN
Evie
Asher’s grandmother hands both Asher and me bottles of water, but warns us to drink slowly. However, both of us are too thirsty to listen and we gulp down three of the bottles before the car even starts moving. My stomach clenches at first, but I will myself to keep the liquid down. I’m not going to waste a drop.
I’m just finishing my third bottle when we zoom away from the curb. Even though I haven’t been in the car that long the heat inside makes me sleepy. It seems all the walking—stumbling—with little to no sleep has taken its toll. Even still, I can’t help but gawk at the city as we pass each building. I’ve never seen anything like it. With the sun rising over the horizon, the sky is an orangish color that’s reflected directly on the glass structures, giving Rushlake City a lost-in-a-rainbow look.
Rainbows are one of my absolute favorite things here. The first time I saw one was right after getting home—Gavin’s house—after being in the hospital. Right before sunset, a double rainbow arced across the sky. It was gorgeous. I had to run to get Gavin and have him tell me what it was. The city reminds me of that moment. Impressive. Simply gorgeous. And it takes my breath away to look at it.
As we travel, Asher leans over and points out different buildings and landmarks. They’re so completely different from the ones in the village. Even though it’s obvious they’re older than the newest buildings in the village—and much, much taller—everything is practically perfect. There are no cracks. The windows glimmer. They’re actually pretty. And clean. Really, really clean. As if they’ve never seen a spot of dirt in their lives. With all the dirt and sand and mud I’ve seen just in the last few days, I don’t even know how that’s possible.
The tall buildings are called skyscrapers and they hold a host of different businesses. From things called banks to restaurants and everything in between. Interspersed between the skyscrapers are smaller single-business buildings. On one corner there is a smallish building made completely out of metal and glass. Asher says it’s his favorite restaurant. He says it serves pizza, and the way he describes it makes my mouth water.
When we get to the city center, he points out a park. It’s still foggy as the sun burns away the cold of night, but I can see the beautiful trees and shrubs. And, in the very center, a tall statue of a man.
I turn to Asher. “Is that a real statue?”
He nods, but doesn’t smile like I expected. “That’s Michael Rush, founder of Rushlake City.” He gives me a look. “Well, he’s sort of the founder. This was originally a part of a different, larger city, but during the War the main municipality was destroyed. I’m not exactly sure how the whole story goes, but he owned a lot of the land on this peninsula. When the city was destroyed, the connecting piece of land was severed and this part became an island. After the War, Michael Rush rebuilt the city and built walls around the entire island to protect it. He became the city manager and anyone who wanted to have protection from the dangerous Outlands could come here. If they could afford to pay the Tithe.”