“And besides,” Alexa says, “we’ll follow you anyway, whether you agree to it or not.”
Cass, who knows this better than anyone by now, gives Lonan a piercing look from his deep, shadowy eyes. “If we allow you to come along,” he says, speaking to Alexa but still focusing his attention on Lonan, “you will have to be quiet.”
“But—” Alexa protests, and is promptly cut off by Lonan.
“Fail. Already. You stay behind.” His eyes scan mine, and Hope’s. “You, too,” he says to Hope, but in a much nicer tone. “You’re better off out here, where it’s dry—that slice on your shin needs a chance to close up before it gets infected.” He rummages around in a nearby supply pack, tosses her a small flask. “Use this to clean the sand out of it—just make sure you leave a little for me to drink at the end of the day.”
As he bends over to zip the pack back up, a sliver of silver glints in the sun: a dagger, sheathed at his hip. He adjusts his shirt to cover it, but it’s too late, I’ve seen it.
“I’m not so sure it’s a great idea to split up,” I blurt out. From any angle, it seems unwise. Me, alone with them in a vicious and unpredictable jungle? Not ideal, especially now that I know Lonan has a dagger. As for leaving Hope and Alexa on the beach, all I can think of is how Finnley disappeared before, how she came back . . . changed. I want, desperately, to ask her what she thought she’d discovered in the field guide—if she can read the Morse code. But she’s glued herself to the guys, and I don’t trust them enough to bring up my father’s book in front of them. Especially when I have no idea what the Morse code says.
“Last chance to come with us starts now,” Lonan says. “Take it or leave it. I won’t extend an invitation again.”
Finnley will go, for sure. If I stay behind, my chances of getting her alone go from unlikely to zero. And I certainly won’t be able to extract answers from the guys. How worth it is this? I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I let this opportunity slip away—if I play it safe, let fear get the better of me. It’ll eat me alive, all the wondering.
An irresistible curiosity pushes me over the edge: What if they know what happened to my father?
I meet Lonan’s eyes, as boldly as I can. “Give me the dagger you’re trying to hide. Let me carry it,” I say. “Consider it a peace offering.”
To my surprise, he removes it, sheath and all, and holds it out in his open palm. But when I reach for it, he pulls it back. “Let me wear the ring at your neck,” he counters. “Consider it my way of saying I don’t trust you, either.”
My father’s wedding ring, heavy on its thin chain. It isn’t dangerous; it isn’t a weapon. Again, it’s like Lonan sees straight through to the core of me, like he knows the ring is something I’ll never be able to part with. That it’s one of the only things in this world that makes me feel safe.
I want answers, desperately, but not at this price.
“I—I can’t.”
He holds my eyes for a second too long. My fingers instinctively clutch the ring, so tightly, but Lonan is gentle as he peels my hand away. He settles the dagger in my palm, closes my hand over it.
“Don’t kill me,” he says, intensity levels off the charts, “or the boys will rip the chain and throw your ring into the middle of the ocean.”
I blink, at a loss for words.
“My leg is pretty sore,” Hope offers, always the peacekeeper. “You should go, Eden.” I appreciate the vote of confidence, that she thinks I’ll be able to hold my own.
Alexa, the reason we so often need a peacekeeper, says nothing. I get the sense she is simply waiting to have the last word, that she is an alligator about to snap. But she remains silent, and puts on a face that says she is content to sit around and play nurse to Hope. I don’t buy it, but I’m not about to question it.
Going with them is a risk, for sure. I’ll just have to make sure it pays off.
“I’m in,” I say.
And it’s into the living nightmare we go.
THIRTY-SIX
IT NEVER CEASES to amaze me, all the things I took for granted.
Before: when smiles appeared without asterisks attached, when tears were for more than just sorrow, when truth was black and white and gray and not permanently tinged with blood.
Before: when the space between two people was charged more with ally than enemy, when dreams were made of clouds and not lead, when freedom seemed more like inevitability than miracle.
I’d look at the night sky from the pool chair in my backyard—in springtime, when the air was light and cool, before it congealed to its thick summer soup of humidity and mosquitoes—and imagine the stars were literal diamonds, like in the lullaby. That the immense blackness was the true ground, with solid earth their sky, and that we were all hanging precariously by our toes.
When Zero hit, I realized there was more than one way to turn a world upside down. That things weren’t as reliable as they’d seemed, and at the same time, not as impossible, either. And that the diamonds would always be too far out of reach, no matter what lies the world-turners deluded themselves with.
Out of reach or not, though, two things were clear: one, people live for the chase.
And two, never stand in their way.
THIRTY-SEVEN
NOT FIVE STEPS into the jungle, all signs of sea, sand, and sky evanesce, giving way to a thousand different shades of green.
Cass, Finnley, and Phoenix lead the way under the tree canopy, single file, with Lonan beside me at the rear. It’s hard to tell whether Finnley’s intentionally keeping her distance from me, or if it’s the guys who are trying to keep us separated.
I’m not familiar with this part of the jungle: we veered far down the beach this time, before venturing inside to an area I haven’t yet explored. They have a Plan-with-a-capital-P, it seems, one I’m not privy to. I try not to let it bother me, focus instead on trying to figure them out.
Besides, I have a plan of my own, and it hinges on me looking like I’m just along for the ride—ask too many questions, I’ll never get answers. For now, it’s sharp ears, sharp eyes. Watch. Observe. Just like I did back at the boardwalk, every morning for two years.
“You sure you don’t want to go back and consult the map before we get in too deep?” Lonan’s voice is startling, loud.
Cass points at his head, doesn’t look back. “I’ve got it all up here, man. We’re good.”