Escape to Eden (26 page)

“No one worry,” Anthony says again but doesn’t make eye contact. There’s tension in the air, and it crowds the space between us.

“Come on, Max,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady to protect my thoughts. No one can know what my mind is suddenly spinning. It scares even me, but I can’t take any chances with Max’s life. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“You two can have the tent to yourself,” Jenna says. “I’m going to sleep out here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “The Institute is finally off our backs. I’m going to relax by the fire and enjoy it.”

“You’re delusional, Jenna,” Colt says and walks off into the forest.

I take Max away from the tension and get him inside the tent. While he pulls on a sweatshirt, I look through Jenna’s belongings until I find what I’m looking for: my inactivated wristpad from when I was in the tunnels. I latch it around my arm and climb into the sleeping bag next to Max, my heart thumping within my chest.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper. “I promise. Soon you’ll be with Dad. Just remember that everything I do is to protect you.” I kiss him on the cheek and lie down, my breathing quickening. I don’t want to do this, but deep down I know Colt is right about the Institute, and the only way Max is going to be safe is if I’m far away from him. It’s the only way any of them will be safe.

As soon as Max is asleep, I sit up and check my pack. A sleeping bag, food for a few days, and a knife. There are also a couple of snares at the bottom. While I rearrange it to make room for water, I think of how me leaving will affect Max. Will he let the others help him? He and Colt have bonded, but I don’t know if that’s enough. I can only hope there’s a small part of him that will understand how right now I am his biggest threat.

A
couple of hours pass. The air is cool, almost freezing, and it stings my skin. I peek outside the tent; the others are finally asleep. I feel around for my jacket, and tie it around my waist instead of pulling it on. I need the cold to keep me awake and force me to run faster.

I quietly slip my backpack over my shoulders and touch the screen of the wristpad. A soft glow lights its face, and I search for the option to only activate the GPS. In just a few seconds, a map projects onto the side of the tent, showing my location. I scan it briefly, making the decision to head west before I turn south to New York. Hopefully by the time I reach there, my father will have already taken Max far away.

My plan is to contact them later through my wristpad, after I figure out a way to get rid of the Canine. Until then, no one around me is safe.

The last thing I do before exiting the tent is scribble a short letter to Anthony, pleading that he deliver Max safely to my father. I thank him for everything and write that I hope I will see him soon. I consider writing a note to Colt, but for some reason the thought of saying goodbye to him causes an ache in my heart I’ve never felt before.

I fold up the note and place it on my pillow. Max’s hand lies next to it. I squeeze it gently, wishing things were different. Before I dwell on the “what ifs,” I leave the tent.

Hot coals are all that’s left of the fire, glowing a reddish-orange in a sea of black. Anthony and Jenna sleep next to it peacefully. I glance around looking for Colt. I find him on the other
side of camp, sitting against a tree. His head is slumped forward. Again I feel the hurt.

Time to go.

I slip into the forest and only when I think I’m a safe distance away do I start running. My pace is quick but after thirty minutes I slow down. Not because I’m tired, but because I can’t see through the tears clouding my vision.

I am alone.

And as long as the Canine is after me, that’s how it has to be. I need to think of a way to stop him or this will be my life forever. I wonder if my father felt the same way all the weeks he was away from us. I feel sorry for him in that moment and wipe at my eyes. At least I’m in a world that is familiar.

When I expect dawn, it doesn’t come. The sun’s light is trapped behind dark clouds, further dampening my spirits. It’s going to rain. Wind tears through the trees, howling as it goes as if to warn the forest of the approaching storm.

I should find shelter but decide to press on. I need as much distance as I can get between Max and me. The others will be awake by now and notice that I’m gone. I worry how Max will react. Hopefully he will understand.

After almost an hour of walking, the rain, which began thirty minutes before, forces me to stop. I find the biggest tree I can and press myself against it while I rummage through my backpack, searching for a poncho. I find it at the bottom and carefully unfold the slick, thin material. It’s just big enough to cover me while I’m balled tight, arms wrapped around knees. I tuck the covering beneath my feet and behind my back, trapping me in a camouflaged, plastic cocoon.

I don’t think about the deep ache in my gut, because if I do I know the feeling will spread to the rest of my body. The last thing I need is to feel hopeless.

Instead, I transport myself to another time. I imagine the sights, the sounds, the smells of my home in the woods. My mother is still alive. We are making an apple pie together while another cooks in the oven. The aroma of cinnamon fills the cabin and pours out the open window. It brings my father through the
front door. He’s holding a folder overwhelmed with papers. Max is sleeping in a bassinet in the corner.

My reminiscence of better times seems to last forever. I don’t want it to end, but all of a sudden the poncho is torn off me, shattering my memories. I quickly stand and press myself to the tree trunk, but when I see who is standing in front of me, I slump back down.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Colt asks. He’s completely drenched, and although the heavy downpour has slowed to a drizzle, I can tell by the patterns of moisture on his forehead and chest that most of it is sweat. His bare chest heaves up and down.

I shake my head. “What are you doing? Go back. Please. I need you to help Max. Besides, you know what’s going to happen if you stay with me.”

He squats down in front of me and hesitates briefly before taking my hands in his. They are surprisingly warm. He stares down at our hands, his brow furrowed. This is the second time he’s initiated physical contact with me. I wonder if that’s more than he’s done with anyone in his lifetime.

He looks up at me. “I get why you left, I do, but it wasn’t smart going alone.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why?” He searches my eyes.

I’m not sure how to answer him. I barely know him, yet I can’t bear the thought of something bad happening to him. “You’ve already risked so much for Max and me, Anthony and Jenna, too. It is enough.”

He straightens and pulls me up with him. “I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”

“How is Max?”

“You mean when he found out his sister deserted him?” He must’ve seen my hurt expression because he quickly says, “I didn’t mean that, sorry. Honestly, he seemed to take it much better than I did. I think he knows he’ll see you again, but I wasn’t so sure.”

“Is that why you came after me?” It’s my turn to search his eyes.

He clears his throat. “All of us agreed it would be a good idea if I went with you.”

My face falls and I turn away, feeling silly for thinking he might say something else.

“My wing is almost better,” he continues. “If we can just stay ahead of the Institute, it won’t be long before I can fly you to New York City. And then, who knows? Maybe we’ll catch up to the others before they go to Eden.”

I start walking. Must keep moving. “But there’s something you’ve failed to acknowledge.”

“What’s that?”

“You found me. A little too easy, if you ask me. Just imagine how much easier it will be for the Canine.”

“We don’t even know they’re on to us yet.”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “You don’t believe that, and you know it. I saw yours and Anthony’s expressions when Jenna told you about the Institute’s announcement. They’re coming.”

He doesn’t dispel or confirm my suspicions, but when I pick up my pace, he matches it.

“We just have to keep moving,” he says.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I will.”

Colt swings the backpack off his shoulders in front of him while still walking. He rummages through the bag. “Here. Eat this.”

I take a breakfast bar from him and tear into it. “Thanks.”

The rain finally stops falling, and, as if someone’s taken a knife to the sky, light breaks through the gray. I glance over at Colt. Although he’s taking a big risk by being with me, I’m glad he’s here. I don’t feel so alone.

“Do you have any dry clothes you can change into?” he asks.

I glance down, surprised to see that I’m shivering. Sometimes my thoughts distract me from physical ailments, a trick my father taught me. “I have some in my backpack.”

“Good. And if you need more, I brought something that will fit you.”

I stop moving and turn to him. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression serious. I wish I could read his thoughts. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look at me. “I’ll wait over here.”

It takes me several minutes to peel the wet clothes off my body. Once I’m dressed, I roll my damp shirt and pants into the poncho and stuff them into my backpack. At some point I’ll dry them.

Colt turns around when he hears me approaching. He has pulled on a white t-shirt. “Feel better?”

I nod.

“Good, because we need to run now.”

My heart skips a beat. “Are they here?”

“Maybe.”

“What are you sensing?”

“Could be nothing, but the forest is too quiet. Usually I can hear deer or rabbits, something, but nothing’s moving.”

I inhale deeply then swallow the cold air. “Let’s go.”

We run fast, me trailing behind Colt. I used to run along the beach for hours so running through the forest, even jumping over the occasional log, isn’t difficult. It helps that my leg is feeling better and that I’m not carrying Max.

After two hours, Colt stops in a clearing. “Let’s take a break.”

I nod, unable to catch my breath enough to speak, and fall back into the still damp grass, my arms spread wide. My body hums as if charged with electricity; sparks of it shock my legs. It is a good feeling.

Colt’s looking down at me, but it’s not a relaxed look. More pained than anything else.

“What?” I ask.

“I just want to apologize again. For putting you and Max in danger. I was a fool.”

I sit up, trying to remember what he’s talking about, but then it comes to me. Me forgetting must mean I’ve forgiven him “You don’t need to apologize again. I for—”

“They’re here.”

His words cut off my forgiveness. I scramble to my feet. On the far side of the clearing, the Canine stands still. His stance is more predator than human.

“Can we run?” I whisper.

Colt tucks me behind him. “We’re surrounded.”

“I’ve got them,” the Canine says, but to whom I’m not sure. I can’t see anyone else. He wipes saliva off his hairy chin.

As if on cue, the forest becomes alive with sounds of machines—the same roaring sound I’d heard when we were driving away from the charging station. I glance around, but am unable to see anything through the trees. How did they manage to approach us without me hearing? They must have some kind of noise filter.

Colt turns to me and takes me by the arms. “I’m going to fly us out of here, got it?”

“But your wing—”

“Is fine now. It’s the only shot we have.”

“There’s no way. They’ll shoot you down before we’ve even begun.”

He works his jaw, staring back and forth into my eyes.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s me they want. I’ll bargain for your release.”

“Me? You think that’s what I’m worried about?”

I glance behind him. Prime men and women with all kinds of guns trail behind the Canine and circle wide around us. They are different shapes and sizes, some extremely skinny with white hair, some muscular and short with red Mohawks. Others have multi-colored hair, but one thing they have in common is they are all deadly. There’s got to be a way out of this, but nothing comes to mind. My father never prepared me for something like this.

The circle of Primes comes together. Over their heads, a tall figure walks toward us. I hoped I’d never have to see that face again, but there she is—Ebony, her hands clasped together in front of her and her chin tilted up.

Two Primes break the circle, allowing her to pass. Just before the circle closes, I notice a quick movement behind the line. Someone is on the outside of the circle, pacing back and forth. I squint my eyes to discover who, but the circle grows tighter.

Ebony walks alongside the Canine. She isn’t smiling, nor does she look angry. Her lack of emotion disturbs me more than
anything else. A person incapable of feeling is the cruelest of leaders.

She stops a short distance from us. “You have cost us a lot of money, Original, and one way or another, you will pay us back.”

“She’s not a commodity,” Colt says. He keeps one hand in front of me as if to protect me.