Don't Let Go
Authors: Michelle Gagnon
CONTENTS
For Esmé and Taegan
Heaven got sweeter, its paperweight curve
star-crazy at its purple center.
She’d found a god, a weapon in the works.
Something I hadn’t noticed in the field
fought out of the layers and took her.
I tore away the land’s every color,
withered the smallest grasses. Every heartbeat
went blank, I dismantled the ticking.
They only say what I took, not what I gave:
roots and strong light, glory
in the single shoot, green currency
of the just-born. From the irredeemable,
the buried—this is how a self gets made.
Remember, that darkness contained the seed
sealed in the swollen red globe.
Hell had to pay.
—Cleopatra Mathis,
“After Persephone”
“N
oa, wake up. C’mon, we’ve gotta go!”
Noa batted away the arm and mumbled, “Go away.” She’d been having a lovely dream, sitting in the middle of a giant field of flaming red poppies. Puffy white clouds drifted past overhead as she brushed her hands across the long, waving grass. It smelled like flowers, and something else, something oddly sour. . . . And then the voice had intruded, loud and insistent.
A harder tug rocked her body from side to side. More voices, muttering urgently in the background.
What the hell?
All she wanted was a little sleep.
“Noa, they’re coming in!”
The sharpness of the voice shattered the final vestiges of the dream, scattering the poppies into a blur of red. Noa frowned and forced her eyes open. Her entire body still felt unbearably heavy, leaden. As she shook her head to clear it, the person who was yanking so annoyingly on her arm swam into focus. “Peter. Leave me alone.”
Peter’s pinched face glowed faintly in the moonlight seeping through the window. Daisy and Teo stood behind him looking equally anxious. They were all fully dressed and had their backpacks on. Teo kept glancing over his shoulder toward the door.
Seeing that, Noa snapped upright. “Crap,” she muttered, struggling to her feet. “Not again.”
Peter grimly handed her pack over. “Yup.”
“How do they keep finding us?” she wondered aloud. Teo and Daisy were already moving down the hall. She tried to jumpstart her foggy brain—
Where are we? Kansas? Nebraska?
“Dumb luck?” Peter suggested. “Either that or they have really, really amazing bloodhounds.”
Arkansas
, Noa suddenly recalled. They were in Arkansas.
A loud crashing sound from the other end of the apartment: the front door, giving way. Noa cursed again. The gloom was nearly impenetrable, she could barely make out battered walls dank with mold and mounds of trash. They’d spent the past few months moving constantly from one ramshackle safe house to the next. Although “safe house” really wasn’t the right term, since each had been raided within a few days. Somehow, no matter where they went, the mercenaries who worked for Pike & Dolan managed to track them down.
“This way!” Peter said in a harsh whisper, cupping his hand around the flashlight so that it only illuminated a hole in the wall that led to the neighboring apartment.
In Cleveland a few weeks ago, the house had been surrounded. They’d only managed to escape because a police cruiser chanced by at the right moment.
They’d learned from that. Their latest safe house was actually an apartment in a sprawling, mostly abandoned complex on the outskirts of Little Rock, Arkansas. The development huddled forlornly on the cusp of a national forest, which worked in their favor; once they got free of the buildings, they could get lost in the trees.
But first, they had to get out of the apartment. Shortly after arriving, Peter and Teo had punched holes through the sheetrock, allowing access to the apartment next door. A string of holes through the next four apartments led to the final one, overlooking the forest. An emergency exit sat right outside that apartment’s front door, and a balcony provided a clear view of the trees.
It would take a small army to cover every possible exit from the complex, so with any luck, those routes would be clear. Of course, there was always a chance that Charles Pike had sent a small army.
Noa hurried ahead of Peter, ducking her head to clamber through the hole. The sound of a door closing behind her, and the dim light vanished; the windows in this apartment were all boarded up. She groped forward as quickly and quietly as possible, with Peter at her heels. Noa counted as she went: The hole to the next apartment was twenty paces ahead, then fifteen to the left. They’d mapped it out earlier, right before she fell asleep.
The pounding of boots behind them. Without breaking stride, Noa dug a Taser out of her backpack’s side pouch and flicked the switch to charge it. She could hear Teo and Daisy in front of her, their shuffling feet loud in the stillness.
The four of them stumbled and tripped their way through the string of apartments, muffling curses and hissing at one another to hurry. Noa strained to hear behind them; minute by minute, they were losing their head start. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Too late now. They’d committed to the plan.
Finally, they crawled into the last apartment. Teo and Daisy raced to the balcony’s sliding glass door: From there, it was a three-foot drop to the ground. They were barely visible, silhouetted by the faint light from outside.
Peter whispered, “Everyone knows where to meet up?”
They all nodded.
“Okay,” Noa said in a low voice. “Let’s go!”
Teo slid the balcony door open, helping Daisy through. They vaulted off the balcony one at a time. As soon as they hit the ground, they charged for the cover of the trees.
“Our turn,” Peter whispered, throwing open the apartment’s front door. Noa followed him into the hallway.
It was pitch-black. For a panicked moment, Noa lost her bearings. The pressure of Peter’s hand on her shoulder guided her. Even though he couldn’t see her, she nodded.
He murmured in her ear, “I’ll break left once we get outside, okay?”
“Okay.” Adrenaline sent a surge of energy through her veins. Noa mentally reconstructed the layout of the complex. The forest was on her right, but she wanted to put some distance between herself and the others. They were supposed to fan out immediately, separating into four different targets to make it less likely they’d all be caught. She’d run straight for a few hundred yards, then break toward the forest.
The emergency door suddenly flew open, and Peter’s shadow darted left. Nearly tripping on the doorsill in her haste, Noa made a beeline for the next building, a hundred yards away. It was a dark night, the moon a mere sliver on the horizon. The area around the apartment buildings was barren and full of malevolent shadows. Noa kept running, pushing herself hard, fighting against the weight of her backpack.
The emergency door slammed shut behind her. She heard a yell from inside, followed by the sound of pounding boots.
Too late, you bastards
, she thought grimly. There was a playground in front of her—or what remained of one. The metal slide had been hauled off for scrap metal, leaving behind a set of stairs that led nowhere. Same for the base of a seesaw, and the lilting framework of a swing set.
This would be a terrible place to raise kids
, Noa couldn’t help thinking as she raced across the sand.
Another shout, closer this time. Bouncing flashlight beams captured the skeletons of the playground in stark freeze-frames.
Noa abruptly turned right, heading for the safety of the trees. Behind her, voices barked orders. She was fifty feet away from the edge of the woods, then ten. . . .
Suddenly, a shape split off from a tree to her left. She didn’t have time to get out of the way as a hand reached for her. . . .
Noa lashed out with her arm, using the Taser like a club.
She had forward momentum on her side: a grunt, and the shadow dropped. Noa kept running, hoping the others were sticking to the plan. Their rendezvous point was a mile away: a culvert that emptied into a small creek. If they couldn’t shake their pursuers, they were supposed to steer clear of it, though.
Plan B was to run for the car, parked a few miles away. Her energy was already sapping, her pace slowing. She was so tired of running; every time they were forced to flee it got harder and harder. The way she was feeling right now, she wasn’t sure she’d even make it to the culvert.
Pull it together
, she told herself sternly.
Lose them, now.
A yell behind her. Noa tore through the trees. Branches slashed at her face and arms, whipping painfully enough to summon tears.
At least one person was still tearing after her through the undergrowth. Noa’s feet pounded the dead leaves, making them crackle loudly. She might as well be lighting signal flares; any idiot would be able to track her. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. The backpack felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. For a second, she considered ditching it—but she couldn’t lose her share of the hard drives.
There was a sudden yank on the pack. Noa’s feet windmilled out from under her, and she landed hard on the ground. Something sharp jabbed into her lower back, making her wince.
A dark figure loomed over her, ominous in a wasp-like mask. He gripped an automatic rifle with both hands.
“You guys really need to hire a different stylist,” Noa said. “That look is so last year.”
She jammed the Taser into his calf and pushed the button. His whole body shook, the sound of chattering teeth loud in the stillness. As he dropped to the ground, she added, “Idiot.”
Noa staggered to her feet and spun in a quick circle: no other movement, so apparently he’d been alone. After a flicker of hesitation, she grabbed his rifle and backed away. She didn’t like guns, but wasn’t keen on the idea of leaving him armed.
She turned and started running again, trying to suss out which direction was north. She was a city girl, born and bred; the closest she’d ever come to camping was living on the streets. Girl Scouts hadn’t exactly been part of her childhood.
But it sure would come in handy now
, she thought grimly.
A splash. Looking down, Noa saw water running over her combat boots: She’d stumbled across the creek, literally. Which meant the culvert should be close by. She slipped along the banks, trying to avoid soft muddy sections where she’d leave behind telltale boot prints.
Five minutes later, the creek widened into a small river. Noa eased around an abandoned beaver dam, jagged clumps of sticks piled nearly six feet high. That was one of the landmarks they’d noted: The culvert should be fifty feet past it. She scanned the area one last time, checking to make sure she was still alone; all clear, nothing shifted in the shadows. She hurried toward the entrance.
It was pitch-black inside the culvert. Hesitantly, she stepped forward.
“Noa?”
At the sound of Peter’s voice, her knees nearly gave out from relief.
“Shh,” she hissed, stepping inside. “Is everyone okay?” In the dim light she could make out Daisy and Teo, huddled together against the far wall. Peter leaned against the entrance, his face drawn and strained. “What happened?”
“Twisted my ankle,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine, though. You?”
“I’m good.” She glanced over her shoulder one last time, then motioned for him to make room. Peter backed up and dropped into a crouch next to Teo. Noa gratefully slid to the ground beside him. Dampness quickly penetrated her jeans, and her boots were soaked. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to stop shivering.
“It’ll be dawn soon,” Peter said. “Hey, is that a gun?”
Noa looked down; she’d almost forgotten she was holding it. It was a sleek black automatic rifle, probably worth a lot of money. And they needed cash. But selling it would be tricky, and the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. “I’ll bury it before we head to the car.”