Lonan’s grief, I assume. About me.
“He’s a liar and a thief.” The new voice, female, is cold and confident, matter-of-fact. She does not sound like someone I want to meet. “He’s staked his life on killing our efforts, and now he’s turning himself in? No. He wouldn’t.”
This woman is smart. Logical, strategic. Who was she, prior to this war, and what made her so eager for a life like this?
A bright white spotlight scans the water, back and forth twice before it goes dark again. “Canoe,” the man says.
Canoe becomes the most terrifying word in the English language.
It takes only a split second to realize he’s not talking about the canoes directly in front of me but the one I abandoned near the tunnel where Alexa waits with Hope. Stupid, stupid. I’d been focused on speed when I left it there—the decision to run the planks instead of paddling in open water, alone, had been an easy one.
But now I’ve practically left a neon arrow pointing to their hiding place, and there’s no way to send warning. I am light-headed. I am floating, bobbing like one of these miserable canoes. Breathe, Eden.
I can’t save everyone. I maybe can’t even save myself. And given the choice between going after Lonan or the girls, I have to choose Lonan—aside from the fact that it’s too late to help Alexa and Hope, there’s a lot more at stake on his side of the situation. I’d trust you with my life, I told Alexa.
I hate that she can’t trust me to save hers.
A heavy, knotted rope ladder swings over the edge and nearly knocks into me. The foliage begins to shake out a plodding rhythm: someone is climbing down. I shift more completely out of the ladder’s way and back up until I hit the solid rock wall, where I’m almost entirely shrouded in leaves. Darkness has become my best friend.
“Pull Pellegrin from the lab and have him roll the ladder up after us.” The woman’s voice is so close now, we could be sharing a double-strawed milkshake. “Don’t want to risk her slipping past us.”
I hold my breath, squeeze my eyes tight so not even their whites, or the flutter of my lashes, will draw attention to my presence. My hand is tight on the hilt of Lonan’s dagger, but I can’t bring myself to pull it out—there are two of them, only one of me. A single blow dart, or a syringe, that’s all it would take to ruin everything. So I stand, as still and unbreaking as the wall at my back.
It is the woman who slips past me, not the other way around, and the man follows soon after. Their steps are practiced and silent on the boardwalk as they head away from me, toward the cave where I left Alexa and Hope.
Now is my chance. I’m tempted to just climb the ladder, but Pellegrin, whoever he is, will roll it up any second now. Even if I made it to the top, the fact that he’s coming from a lab doesn’t bode well for my survival. I need to end up there on my terms. And he may be essential to finding the cure, and the Atlas Project science, so knifing him isn’t my best move, either. A knife at his throat could work—but I’m not about to do that without first seeing who I’m up against. He could be three times my size, he could crush me like a cockroach under a boot. This is all helpful information, at least. The lab is on the top floor, on the farthest side from the entrance. There is an escape ladder there. Other things I need are probably there, too.
I have only one option left.
A scream echoes from the tunnel-cave: Alexa. I hate that I have to leave her, but this is my best chance to do the most good. My heart beats in my stomach, turbulent and strong and sickening.
Your mind is stronger than your circumstances, Eden.
Darkness has indeed become my best friend. It won’t be long now until the enemy comes back for me. It’d be good to have a head start.
I take a breath and slip, silently, into the onyx-black water. It is where all my fear lives, and where I will kill all my fear.
SIXTY-ONE
WHEN THE WOLVES stole our oceans, and our sand, and our freedom and comfort and loved ones, I took back my sunrises.
The sun was faithful, the sun was true, the sun shattered darkness into a billion invisible pieces with rays of yellow, orange, red, sometimes even pink and purple. I watched as many as possible, alone except for the early morning guards, from the boardwalk planks.
It is dark now—maybe the darkest night of my whole life.
I plan on seeing the sunrise tomorrow.
SIXTY-TWO
I SWIM AS far as I can without coming up for a breath. When I do, it is fast and full, and then I make myself disappear again.
Just because I’ve been in this water before does not mean I am any more comfortable in it. Without Hope’s merciless hands plunging me under, I’m all the more aware of my surroundings.
Black water. Warm water, the sort of lukewarm that feels like I’ve been sitting in bathwater for too long, with the same mucky consistency.
My clothes, so tight and efficient during the day, slow me to a heavy crawl. I seriously contemplate removing them, but there are too many complications. Either I’d have to hold on to them while swimming—along with the poor soaked field guide that’s been tucked at my back all day—or go nearly naked into the lodge. Not that going dripping-wet into the lodge is the best alternative, but it is a better one.
I compromise: shoes and pants off, in hand with the field guide, everything else on. It’s cumbersome, but effective.
I’m faster already.
Now, though, I feel things—my bare legs brush against plant tendrils, or fish, or who knows what else. Every soft and slippery thing sets my body to full alert. My mouth goes dry; my breaths are more frantic.
Calm down, Eden. Calm. Down.
I tell myself there are no snakes. I tell myself that even if there are snakes, none have bitten me yet and none have squeezed the life out of me.
I try to listen to myself.
It works. But only just enough. Every second inside this water, I fight against the fear that it will become my grave. That I’ll be bitten and dead before I even have the chance to scream for help. The fear never lets up, not even when I turn the corner and find myself bathed in the ethereal turquoise glow, under the firefly sky where we parted ways with Lonan. It’s gorgeous in here, stunning. But I know better than to mistake those for safe.
Finally, yellow light spills out onto the water. It’s still a little way up ahead, but it has to be the opening I’m looking for. I’m coming for you, Lonan—wherever you are. I hear no more voices, no more commotion, no more diversion. It will either be very easy or very complicated to get inside. I’m not betting on easy.