The next day, Daxton, Greyson, and I boarded a jet to D.C. Now that the war was over, Daxton no longer needed the protection of the Stronghold, but even so, he kept himself holed up in the back room of the jet, refusing to getanywhere near us. I didn’t blame him, not really. He must have known that the instant he let either one of us close to him without armed guards pointing their weapons directly at us, his life would be forfeit.
Together Greyson and I played a card game on the table I had shared with Knox only a few months before. We couldn’t talk about anything suspicious, not with the guards breathing down our necks, but we spoke quietly about the things we wanted to do when we returned to D.C. Greyson wanted to get back to inventing. I wanted to bury myself in work that was rewarding—charities, foundations for families of the soldiers on both sides, working toward bettering the education children from the less desirable neighborhoods received. Little things that were still within my power to do. Things that, over time, could make a real difference.
Daxton might have won the war, but he couldn’t beat the hope out of me completely.
At least that was what I thought, until we began our descent. As we neared the ground, I pulled up the window shade, expecting to see Washington, D.C., sprawled out beneath us. Instead, all I saw were the charred remains of what used to be civilization.
“What...?” said Greyson, leaning in closer to get a better look, but I sat back against my seat, gulping in lungfuls of air. Of course he would take us here. Of course he would make sure to rub our noses in everything he was capable of.
“It’s Elsewhere,” I managed shakily. “Or what’s left of it.”
The destruction was endless. Miles and miles of nothing but the dead and blackened. The plane landed on what had once been the main street of Section X, and I couldn’t stand the thought of what the wheels were running over.
“Wear these,” said a guard, and he handed us masks to place over our noses and mouths. I pulled mine on, willing myself to hold it together.
There was nothing left. Everything was burned beyond recognition. And it had all been too fast for anyone to escape, but no one could have possibly survived long enough to suffer.
As Daxton exited the back room, the guard led Greyson and me off the plane and onto the ashy ground. Something crunched beneath my boot, and I tried not to think about what it might have been.
“Ah, Section X,” said Daxton as he stepped down, two armed guards at his side. “What a delight it is to return to such a familiar place.”
I knew exactly where I was: we stood in the spot where the factory used to be. All that marked it now was a twisted lump of melted metal. And it was, in fact, the very section Victor Mercer had run with his brother, Jonathan. He had lived there much longer than I had, and if I could picture what the street used to be, he undoubtedly could, too.
“Shall we?” said Daxton, and it wasn’t a request. He strolled toward the hill nearby, where Mercer Manor had once stood. There was nothing left but charred stone now.
Greyson and I followed him up what had once been the sloping pathway. The gate had melted away, and part of me hoped it would be impossible to tell where, exactly, the manor had once stood. I didn’t think I could take seeing the very spot where Knox had died.
Could have died, I said firmly to myself. There was still hope. There was always hope, and I wasn’t sure which was worse—the pain of loss, or the pain of never knowing. Still, I clung to the possibility that someway, somehow, Knox had defied the impossible and escaped Elsewhere in time. Rivers had known about the tunnels, after all—maybe they had used them.
But that only brought up the horrible image of thousands of charred bodies deep below our feet, where no one would ever find them. I choked back a wave of nausea and dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to push that image aside. There had to be a way.
As we grew closer, Daxton made a delighted sound and hurried forward, stopping in a specific spot. “Look at this. Of course this would survive—how could it not?”
With my insides in knots, I walked toward him until the guard put up his hand, indicating I was close enough. I peered around. Daxton stood directly over an ornate H carved into the marble floor.
The foyer of Mercer Manor. Which meant—
I looked to my right, where Knox’s office had once stood. Nothing remained but more ash and char, and I silently turned and marched back down the hill. I expected Daxton to call me back, to insist I stay and witness these horrors, but I wouldn’t have gone. He could do whatever he wanted to me. I didn’t care anymore.
Footsteps hurried after me, crunching against the ground, but to my relief, it wasn’t Daxton or a guard. Instead, Greyson caught up with me and took my arm. “Are you okay?”
“How can you possibly—” I sucked in a breath and held it until we crossed the melted gate, where I burst. “I can’t do this. I can’t play this stupid game just to keep him happy. He’s a monster. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s reveling in it. Do you have any idea how many people died in this section alone?”