Follow Me Through Darkness Read Free Page B

The inadequacy. The urge to turn around and run all the way back to the Compound. There are reasons to go above. I miss the feel of the sun, seeing the ocean and the sky. To experience the endlessness of the three as they meld into one. I say none of this though because it’s not my place to question him. His life isn’t mine. I don’t know what it’s like out here, and my time isn’t enough for me to pretend as if I do.
    “Why did you leave the Compound, Neely?” he asks.
    I start to walk past him, and he claps my arm. The harsh line of his lips demands an answer, but gentleness is present in his eyes. It’s that gentleness that reminds me of my father before all of this. Before he was made into something else.
    “Because I had no choice,” I say.
    “We always have choices.” He releases me and walks on, the light of his torch leading the way.
    I had a choice; he’s right. My choice was to say nothing, to do nothing, and lose everything-or I could leave. I could fight. That’s what I’m doing, and it may end up costing me everything anyway.
    “What’s in San Francisco?” Bayard presses in my silence.
    “I’m looking for someone,” I reply. I don’t want to tell him about the Mavericks yet; even though the Remnants respect the Mavericks, not all of them agree and not all of them can be trusted. I’m told the Elders have ears and eyes everywhere.
    Bayard mumbles something under his breath. “This whole thing was rushed-you coming here, us helping you out. There a reason for that?”
    I shrug. “It’s urgent. I only have thirty-two days left to make it there.”
    “What happens if you don’t?”
    “I will lose.”
    “Lose what?” he asks.
    I avoid the question. I look around the Burrows while we move, studying the metal bars along the ground the best I can. I count the pieces of trash we pass and hum inside my head. I listen for the sound of his boots clomping. But even all the distractions can’t stop the word from coming out.
    “Everyone.”
    He doesn’t hear me. The word is barely whispered, inaudible and lost in the echo of darkness.

62 DAYS BEFORE ESCAPE
    THERE’S AN ECHO AS I move down the stairs and into the dark depths of Xenith’s quarters. Mint lingers around me as if he’s painted the walls with his familiar scent. In all my life, I’ve never stepped into his quarters. I know that being here means something more than I ever expected to give in this fight. There’s no turning back after this. But I can still hear Thorne’s screams in my ears, feel his pain again and again. I’m doing this for him, for my father, and for all the people the Elders have ever hurt. I have to stop them .
    Xenith is hunched over a table, his blond hair falling in his face. His hand moves fiercely on the paper spread across the table. I can’t help but stare at him. He isn’t Thorne, whose beauty is simple and holistic, olive and dark, but Xenith is undeniably attractive. He has a strong chin, a sharp jawline, and blue eyes, dark and vast like the ocean. They always seemed much older than eighteen, wiser maybe, undeniable. I’ve always liked his eyes, ever since we were kids. The truth was always swirling in them, even when I didn’t want to see it .
    “Neely,” he says without looking up from whatever he’s working on. “Are you lost?”
    “No.”
    Xenith moves the paper over to a different stack and continues writing. The pencil in his hand moves quickly and I try to see what the words are, but they aren’t in English .
    “I’m here because-”
    He holds up a hand to me, and I bite my lip, waiting. His hand moves across the paper on his table, never pausing and never faltering. He doesn’t look up, so I wander around the room. To my left is a shelf full of trinkets. One is a small, round glass object with faint white lines etched into it. I reach out a hand, but Xenith says my name as a warning without even looking up. I step away from it like I’ve been scolded and feel childish.