Iâm burning.
The cord is chafing my legs into a fiery mass so painful Iâm surprised thereâs no smoke. I bite back the pain because I have no choice. The mass hysteria of the building is bulldozing my senses, raining down danger all around us. Adam is shouting to me from below, telling me to jump, promising heâll catch me. Iâm too ashamed to admit Iâm afraid of the fall.
I never have a chance to make my own decision.
Soldiers are already pouring into what used to be my room, shouting and confused, probably shocked to find Warner in such a feeble position. It was really too easy to overpower him. It worries me.
It makes me think we did something wrong.
A few soldiers pop their heads out of the shattered window and Iâm frantic to shimmy down the rope but theyâre already moving to unlatch the anchor. I prepare myself for the nauseating sensation of free fall only to realize theyâre not trying to drop me. Theyâre trying to reel me back inside.
Warner must be telling them what to do.
I glance down at Adam below me and finally give in to his calls. I squeeze my eyes shut and let go.
And fall right into his open arms.
We collapse onto the ground, but the breath is knocked out of us for only a moment. Adam grabs my hand and then weâre running.
Thereâs nothing but empty, barren space stretching out ahead of us. Broken asphalt, uneven pavement, dirt roads, naked trees, dying plants, a yellowed city abandoned to the elements drowning in dead leaves that crunch under our feet. The civilian compounds are short and squat, grouped together in no particular order, and Adam makes sure to stay as far away from them as possible. The loudspeakers are already working against us. The sound of a young, smoothly mechanical female voice drowns out the sirens.
âCurfew is now in effect. Everyone return to their homes immediately. There are rebels on the loose. They are armed and ready to fire. Curfew is now in effect. Everyone return to their homes immediately. There are rebels on the loose. They are armed and ready to fiââ
My sides are cramping, my skin is tight, my throat dry, desperate for water. I donât know how far weâve run. All I know is the sound of boots pounding the pavement, the screech of tires peeling out of underground storage units, alarms wailing in our wake.
I look back to see people screaming and running for shelter, ducking away from the soldiers rushing through their homes, pounding down doors to see if weâve found refuge somewhere inside. Adam pulls me away from civilization and heads toward the abandoned streets of an earlier decade: old shops and restaurants, narrow side streets and abandoned playgrounds. The unregulated land of our past lives has been strictly off-limits. Itâs forbidden territory. Everything closed down. Everything broken, rusted shut, lifeless. No one is allowed to trespass here. Not even soldiers.
And weâre charging through these streets, trying to stay out of sight.
The sun is slipping through the sky and tripping toward the edge of the earth. Night will be coming quickly, and I have no idea where we are. I never expected so much to happen so quickly and I never expected it all to happen on the same day. I just have to hope to survive but I havenât the faintest idea where we might be headed. It never occurred to me to ask Adam where we might go.
Weâre darting in a million directions. Turning abruptly, going forward a few feet only to head back in an opposite path. My best guess is that Adam is trying to confuse and/or distract our followers as much as possible. I can do nothing but attempt to keep up.
And I fail.
Adam is a trained soldier. Heâs built for exactly these kinds of situations. He understands how to flee, how to stay inconspicuous, how to move soundlessly in any space. I, on the other hand, am a broken girl whoâs known no exercise for too long. My lungs are burning with the effort to inhale oxygen, wheezing with the effort to exhale carbon dioxide.
Iâm suddenly gasping so desperately Adam is forced to pull me into a side street. Heâs breathing a little harder than usual, but Iâve acquired a full-time job choking on the weakness of my limp body.
Adam takes my face in his hands and tries to focus my eyes. âI want you to breathe like I am, okay?â
I wheeze a bit more.
âFocus, Juliette.â His eyes are so determined. Infinitely patient. He looks fearless and I envy him his composure. âCalm your heart,â he says. âBreathe exactly as I do.â
He takes 3 small breaths in, holds it for a few seconds, and releases it in one long exhalation. I try to copy him. Iâm not very good at it.
âOkay. I want you to keep breathing likeââ He stops. His eyes dart up and around the abandoned street for a split second. I know we have to move.
Gunshots shatter the atmosphere. Iâd never realized just how loud they are or just how much that sound fractures every functioning bone in my body. An icy chill seeps through my blood and I know immediately that theyâre not trying to kill me. Theyâre trying to kill Adam.
Iâm suddenly asphyxiated by a new kind of anxiety. I canât let them hurt him.
Not for me.
But Adam doesnât have time for me to catch my breath and find my head. He flips me up and into his arms and takes off in a diagonal dash across another alleyway.
And weâre running.
And Iâm breathing.
And he shouts, âWrap your arms around my neck!â and I release the choke hold I have on his T-shirt and Iâm stupid enough to feel shy as I slip my arms around him. He readjusts me against him so Iâm higher, closer to his chest. He carries me like I weigh less than nothing.
I close my eyes and press my cheek against his neck.
The gunshots are somewhere behind us, but even I can tell from the sound that theyâre too far away and too far in the wrong direction. We seem to have momentarily outmaneuvered them. Their cars canât even find us, because Adam has avoided all main streets. He seems to have his own map of this city. He seems to know exactly what heâs doingâlike heâs been planning this for a very long time.
After inhaling exactly 594 times Adam drops me to my feet in front of a stretch of chain-link fence. I realize heâs struggling to swallow oxygen, but he doesnât pant like I do. He knows how to regulate his breathing. He knows how to steady his pulse, calm his heart, maintain control over his organs. He knows how to survive. I hope heâll teach me, too.
âJuliette,â he says after a breathless moment. âCan you jump this fence?â
Iâm so eager to be more than a useless lump that I nearly sprint up and over the metal barrier. But Iâm reckless. And too hasty. I practically rip my dress off and scratch my legs in the process. I wince against the stinging pain, and in the moment it takes me to reopen my eyes, Adam is already standing next to me.
He looks down at my legs and sighs. He almost laughs. I wonder what I must look like, tattered and wild in this shredded dress. The slit Warner created now stops at my hip bone. I must look like a crazed animal.
Adam doesnât seem to mind.
Heâs slowed down, too. Weâre moving at a brisk walk now, no longer barreling through the streets. I realize we must be closer to some semblance of safety, but Iâm not sure if I should ask questions now, or save them for later. Adam answers my silent thoughts.
âThey wonât be able to track me out here,â he says, and it dawns on me that all soldiers must have some kind of tracking device on their person. I wonder why I never got one.
It shouldnât be this easy to escape.
âOur trackers arenât tangible,â he explains. We make a left into another alleyway. The sun is just dipping below the horizon. I wonder where we are. How far away from Reestablished settlements we must be that there are no people here. âItâs a special serum injected into our bloodstream,â he continues, âand itâs designed to work with our bodiesâ natural processes. It would know, for example, if I died. Itâs an excellent way to keep track of soldiers lost in combat.â He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. He smiles a crooked smile I want to kiss.
âSo how did you confuse the tracker?â
His grin grows bigger. He waves one hand around us. âThis space weâre standing in? It was used for a nuclear power plant. One day the whole thing exploded.â
My eyes are as big as my face. âWhen did that happen?â
âAbout five years ago. They cleaned it up pretty quickly. Hid it from the media, from the people. No one really knows what happened here. But the radiation alone is enough to kill.â He pauses. âIt already has.â
He stops walking. âIâve been through this area a million times already, and I havenât been affected by it. Warner used to send me up here to collect samples of the soil. He wanted to study the effects.â He runs a hand through his hair. âI think he was hoping to manipulate the toxicity into a poison of some kind.
âThe first time I came up here, Warner thought Iâd died. The tracker is linked to all of our main processing systemsâan alert goes off whenever a soldier is lost. He knew there was a risk in sending me, so I donât think he was too surprised to hear Iâd died. He was more surprised to see me return.â He shrugs, as though his death wouldâve been an insignificant detail. âThereâs something about the chemicals here that counteracts the molecular composition of the tracking device. So basicallyâright now everyone thinks Iâm dead.â
âWonât Warner suspect you might be here?â
âMaybe.â He squints up at the fading sunlight. Our shadows are long and unmoving. âOr I couldâve been shot. In any case, it buys us some time.â
He takes my hand and grins at me before something slams into my consciousness.
âWhat about me?â I ask. âCanât this radiation kill me?â I hope I donât sound as nervous as I feel. Iâve never wanted to be alive so much in my life. I donât want to lose everything so soon.
âOhâno.â He shakes his head. âSorry, I forgot to tell youâone of the reasons why Warner wanted me collecting these samples? Is because youâre immune to it, too. He was studying you. He said he found the information in your hospital records. That youâd been testedââ
âBut no one everââ
ââprobably without your knowledge, and despite testing positive for the radiation, you were entirely whole, biologically. There was nothing inherently wrong with you.â
Nothing inherently wrong with you.
The observation is so blatantly false I actually start laughing. I try to stifle my incredulity. âThereâs nothing wrong with me? Youâre kidding, right?â
Adam stares at me so long I begin to blush. He tips my chin up so I meet his eyes. Blue blue blue boring into me. His voice is deep, steady. âI donât think Iâve ever heard you laugh.â
Heâs so excruciatingly correct I donât know how to respond except with the truth. My smile is tucked into a straight line. âLaughter comes from living.â I shrug, try to sound indifferent. âIâve never really been alive before.â
His eyes havenât wavered in their focus. Heâs holding me in place with the strength of one powerful pull coming from deep within him. I can almost feel his heart beating against my skin. I can almost feel his lips breathing against my lungs. I can almost taste him on my tongue.
He takes a shaky breath and pulls me close. Kisses the top of my head.
âLetâs go home,â he whispers.