Hanna and I shove our way onto a shuttle. Through the window I see even more citizens hustling down the sidewalks, hunched and afraid, determined get home, where the Directorate promises they will be safe.
Once we are home, an announcement pushes out on universal livecast, a voice booming over the speakers. The voice is friendly and familiar, paternal and comforting. Father turns on the big broadcast screen in the living room and we all watch together as the recording delivers the news: the Directorate has been bombed by an unknown outside rebel group.
Mother gasps. Father wraps an arm around her.
“Remain in your homes,” the voice orders, “and the Directorate will notify you when it is safe.”
I stand up, arms folded over my chest. I think of Evie and everyone else who must be out there, and my mind reels. This can’t be right. Why would they attack us? Why now? All that has happened crashes through my head like dominoes, small flashes of sounds and touches and scenes: waking up to the strange shuffle in Evie’s room; the warmth of Quinn’s kiss; Joyce’s hungry eyes leaning in for my confession; the night mist on my skin; the little blue pills piling up in my pockets and drawers; Tad’s panicked eyes through the bars of his cell, pleading to be let free. I told them everything.
I gasp, echoing Mother.
The Directorate didn’t know there was a group out there watching them. Not until Tad. And they gained more by staying off the Directorate’s radar. Why would they attack?
My head rushes as the truth strikes: we’re not being attacked. The Licentia did this. And now the Directorate is using it to attack this new enemy Tad has led them to.
I don’t have all the pieces to prove it. Only everything I have learned these past weeks. And every particle of my being knows it is true.
And I know one more thing: I have to get to Evie and warn her, or at least see her and know that she’ll be okay. I didn’t go through all of this – the sneaking around, the days and days of research, the late nights, the roller-coaster of Quinn – to spend the rest of my life wondering all over again if Evie is alive out there somewhere, or not. It would end me.
In my mind, I pull up the color-coded map of Tad’s tunnels that I stored in my memory from the archives.
I have to get to the tunnels.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Gracelyn
I stand as calmly as I can through the rest of the livecast, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms at my sides. When it is done, Mother and Father huddle on the couch next to each other. They look to me as if they expect me to join them. To sit and wait for the voice to come back and tell us everything will be okay.
I excuse myself to my room.
The tunnel, the tunnel, the tunnel. It bounces through my mind like a rolling echo. I shut my eyes and focus on the map. The entrance into the tunnels is in the park.
Digging into my drawer, I pull out one of the metallic security tapes Quinn gave me, and use it to slip out of the window. Then I make for the park, trying to stay close to the bushes.
The streets are abandoned except for the circling security vehicles. But this time, the light of midday is bright, and security isn’t following its usual, predictable patterns.
Stop. This is crazy. You’re going crazy.
My joints lock, my hands shake. I am bound to get caught. Or worse, I could run into the Licentia.
But this is the one last thing I absolutely have to do. If I do not, all the rest of it was for nothing – I would be right back where I started, wondering if Evie is alive or dead, and bound to spiral out again.
I can’t spiral out again. I have to find a way back on track, back to my promising future. This one last reckless thing. Then I’ll let it go. I’ll go back to what I used to be.
I urge myself onward, waiting for the open moments and sprinting to the next row of bushes. By the time I make it to the park, my chest is contracting like I am being squeezed by a giant fist. I launch into the hollowed-out bushes the Licentia hid in, and peer out at the open grass. The door into the tunnels below must be out there somewhere.
I have to find it. I will find it, I command myself. I figured out everything else to get to this point, and I will do this, too. Except, Quinn did all the stealth. All I did was snoop through some files.
This demands stealth.
I strain my eyes, as if the ground will give up its secrets if I stare at it with enough willpower. If the map is right, it should be in the open stretch of grass beyond these bushes. But I can’t crawl along the grass sticking my hands into the dirt every few feet – I’ll be caught.
Wait – is that a ledge in the grass?
I squint and lean forward, trying to suppress the charge of hope that pulses over me. But it is. There is a small but definite rise in the grass, a hard line that pops ever so slightly higher than the rest around it, over by a tree in the middle of the park.
The Directorate doesn’t do uneven ridges.
A prickle rises up my neck. Why is it open? The question nags at my mind, but I can’t worry about that now. Right now, I am simply grateful to have found it.
But in the middle of the park, I’ll be vulnerable to any passing security car, from any angle. Once I get my chance, I’ll have to move fast.
As the security cars make rounds, I miss my first opening, too scared to venture out. And then I miss my second. I’m wasting time. But I don’t know how to get to the ledge without being caught.
Another explosion rumbles from the Quad center, shaking the ground.
There is no time to be afraid. The security cars slam to a stop, then turn towards the rising smoke. As they disappear, I race towards the ledge, slide to it on my knees and dig my fingers into the ground around it. Sure enough, my fingers don’t press into dirt, but a smooth metal ledge. I pull it up and slip in, relief rushing around me with the darkness as I clasp to the rungs of a cool metal ladder.
I have to tug the ledge extra-hard to get it properly into place, so it will not stick up again for someone else to find. The force of the effort throws me off balance, and a bolt of panic cuts through me. I cling to the ladder’s rungs, listening to my involuntary gasp echo down the tunnel.
I shut my eyes and focus on the pounding of my heart. It doesn’t help, but my fear of remaining on the ladder wins over my fear of climbing down it, and I manage to make my way, bar by bar, until I am on the ground.
The tunnels are dark, and a mildewy stink fills the air. A series of colored lines trace the top of the wall, and the air is charged with an uncomfortable quiet.
Where do I go from here? Panic prickles in my fingertips, but I close my eyes and force myself steady – think.
The blue line. That’s what Tad said.
I find it along the wall’s stripes and hustle down the paths as fast as I can without breaking the quiet. There could be others down here, especially if the Directorate is launching an attack. Dirt sticks to the bright clean canvas of my shoes, but I will worry about that later.
The tunnels are dark, and I soon feel lost and disorientated. In the Quad, signs tell you where you are and where to go at every corner. But down here, fear clouds my mind and I question each turn. Studying the lines of a map is one thing, but actually being in these awful tunnels, all alone, in the dark, is another completely.
I reach an intersection and halt to think. This was a stupid idea. Desperation fills my chest like lead. I’m never going to make it. I’m never going to see Evie again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Evie
Breathe in, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five…
I lean forward over my knees, fighting to get my breaths under control as I wander the tunnel’s paths.
These attacks don’t bother me the way they used to. I used to think it meant that I was weak and broken – a reminder of my early departure date and why it was assigned. But somewhere in these past weeks it has taken on a new meaning. It isn’t about my limitations anymore. It’s about knowing I have someth
ing worth fighting for. Being scared? That’s no big deal. But giving in, not fighting through it? That would be.
My breathing steadies, and I straighten up.
How far is it back to the Quad? I should have brought some food. Or at least some water. Though how I would have gotten either, in the chaos of the camp’s retreat, I don’t know. What I do know is, I’ve been running for a long time. I have to be getting close by now. Don’t I?
A shuffle from around the next corner stops me in my tracks. Then my mind catches up and I press against the wall, hoping the dark will hide me.
Who else would be down here? I strain for any sign of further movement. I almost convince myself it wasn’t real, but then I hear it again – the soft sound of steps in the dirt. And it’s closer now, just around the next corner.
My stomach churns with dread and I ball my hands into fists. But it isn’t a Directorate guard that steps into the dim light of the intersection. It’s a woman. She looks a few years older than me, with bold red hair, and skin so pale it almost glows in the dark. She turns, and our eyes lock.
Crap. My body freezes in panic.
She gasps.
But then she studies my face, and steps closer.
“Gracelyn?” she says. “No wait – Are you Evie?”
I gawk, too shocked to respond.
“You are. You have to be,” she continues. “You look exactly like your sister.”
I blink, pressing back into the wall behind me. “Is Gracelyn here?”
“No.” Something flickers behind her eyes. She shifts into a softer posture. “But come with me. I’ll take you to her.”
My heart leaps – I can’t believe my good luck. I step forward to go with her, but then something about the intensity behind her eyes makes me hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t believe luck this good, and especially from anyone from the Directorate. Maybe it’s not luck at all, or at least, not the good kind.
“How do you know Gracelyn?”
The woman’s eyes narrow at the edge, then she forces a smile.
“I’m Quinn – I know Gracelyn from work. LQM.”
I frown. “And what is an upstanding employee of LQM doing down here, in secret underground tunnels?”
Quinn huffs and rolls her eyes. “There isn’t time to explain, just come with me.”
She lunges forward, grabs my wrist, and pulls.
I pull back, trying to free myself of her. “No way.”
“But you have to.” Quinn tugs my arm again, her grip digging into my skin. “Don’t you get it? You can expose the Directorate. You can be their undoing. But you have to come with me.”
“What?” Surely I’m misunderstanding her. No one would ask what I think she is asking – and definitely no one who Gracelyn would trust.
She tugs at me again. “We have to show them all, or they’ll never understand.”
“No.” I yank my arm and finally break free from her grip.
Her face scrunches into a terrible grimace. “Yes.”
Then her hand flies at me in a fist. Pain bursts over my face and my vision clouds with a flash of darkness.
Before I can regain my bearings, she grabs me again and tugs me forward.
Chapter Fifty
Gracelyn
A murmur of voices echoes towards me from down the tunnels. I freeze, straining to listen over the rising pound of my heartbeat, but it is impossible to understand them through the tunnel’s reverberations.
Wait, was that my name? I listen harder, but I can’t tell anything more. I could have sworn…
I move towards the voices, my hands shaking. As I get closer, both voices become clearer, and both are familiar to me. My heart skips and thuds.
I round the corner in time to see Quinn slug Evie in her face.
Evie. She’s alive. She’s here.
For a moment I am so overwhelmed that I am frozen. Relief bursts through me. Then it is followed by terrible understanding that drops over me like a bucket of cold water.
Of course.
Of course it was Quinn who went through the hatch in the park before me. No one else knew about it. She must have crawled over every inch of that park looking for the trap door. Or maybe the Licentia has tech for that, too. They’re probably using the tunnels for the attack.
Of course she broke her promise to me and came after Evie. She is only repeating what I should have already learned to expect from her.
But it stings all the same, even more because of the shame and guilt that come with it. I should have known. I should have stopped it, somehow.
I can stop it now.
“Hey!”
Rage simmers over my skin. Before I know what I am doing, I charge forward and throw my fist at Quinn, connecting with her cheekbone. She sneers, the hit having little effect on her, though bolts of pain shoot down my fingers and wrist. Helpless anger explodes through me.
“You promised!” My voice hits a shrill register I don’t recognize as my own.
“Promised?” Quinn scoffs. “Hardly. Make me the bad guy if you must, but the bottom line is, some of us are willing to do what it takes, and some don’t have it in them, when it comes down to it.”
“Shut. Up.” I swing my other fist at her, hardly caring if I injure myself again. After sixteen years of being careful, of being protected, of being cautious and precariously staying within all the lines, I can’t contain the tension of these past weeks any longer. Then my hit lands and the pain explodes, and a whimper escapes me. I recoil in on myself, giving in to the pain.
“Gracelyn?” Evie asks.
She frowns, rubbing her cheek where Quinn made contact. But she is real, she is alive, and she is here.
I bound to her and wrap my arms around her, still unable to fully believe, even as I squeeze her tight, that I really found her.
Everything is going to be okay now.
Chapter Fifty-One
Evie
Before I can process what is happening, arms fly around my neck so tight they constrict my breathing.
“Gracelyn?” A lump tightens in my throat.
Did I really find her? Did this half-baked plan actually work? But it is, it’s her. I’d know this smooth blonde hair, the sound of her voice, the specific way her arms wrap around me, anywhere.
I squeeze her back, and I don’t know if I can ever let go. There is so much I have to tell her. But even more importantly, we have to get out of here.
And did Gracelyn, my sweet little sister who has nothing but love for anyone, just throw a punch?
The pain in her hands must be horrible, for someone who has never felt any. The searing ache of that twisted ankle the first time I was in these tunnels will never fade in my memory.
I take her hands in mine. “Are you okay?”
Her expression is shaky, and her gaze drops down to her hands. Her fingers are swelling.
“Oh no,” she says. She pulls them back and shakes out her hands as if she can fling the pain away.
“It’s okay, Gracelyn,” I tell her. “Gracelyn? Gracelyn.”
She looks at me.
What I find in her expression holds so much more than the pain of her fingers. The thrill of finding her gets buried beneath confusion and concern. The soft warmth of her eyes has been crowded out by an uncertain edginess, her smile replaced with a grimace. What’s happened to her since I left? It’s only been weeks, but she seems older. Harder. I’ve never seen her scowl like that, not ever.
“Well, shit.”
A new voice joins the commotion. A voice that feels a lot like home. As I turn to look, a whoosh of dark hair races between us, and clocks Quinn in the head. This time, Quinn crumples to the ground, unconscious.
“Kinlee?”
I knew she was somewhere in the Directorate, but the odds of her actually being here, now – of seeing her again ever – were so small that her seemingly magic appearance raises goose bumps over my arms.
“It’s Kate now,” she says. The Directorate uniform she’s wearin
g seems stiff and out of place on her. Her hair, straightened and pinned back in a tight ponytail, is the tidiest I’ve ever seen it. She frowns. “You were supposed to get out, not come back. One of you idiots tripped an alarm. You have no idea how hard it was to convince them I should go ahead to investigate, before they sent in a whole unit.”
I know I should care about what she’s saying, but I’m still trying to get past the fact that she’s there. Hell, I’m still trying to catch up with the fact that I found Gracelyn.
“But what… I thought you were in a different Quad.”
“They’re rounding up everyone to attack the Alliance. Please tell me you’re the only dummy who hasn’t evacuated by now.”
“I am the only dummy,” I say. “And Kin, this is my sister. Gracelyn.”
She glances over to Gracelyn, who stares back, eyes wide. “You two look exactly the same, you know that?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Gracelyn
I stare at the girl in the Directorate uniform. The badge on the lapel reads Quad Fifty-Eight. It looks stiff and tight over her restless shoulders. And she can fight.
And somehow, Evie knows her.
Kate-Kinlee turns to me. “Not bad, by the way. But don’t close your fist like that when you punch.”
I blink. “Oh.”
Snap out of it. I’d set out to find Evie, and here she is. This should make it all better. So what is wrong with me?
This new Evie is different from the one who departed from the Quad.
Evie was the bold one, always, but the anger that fueled her seems to have dissolved, and a different kind of energy fills her now. She looks free. She looks strong. Despite her intense expression right now, she looks happy.
Evie, happy. Have I ever seen that before? Not like this, not this contentedness that seems to be anchored from her core. There never seemed to be time for happy in Evie’s limited years.
Kate-Kinlee checks her digipad. “I can’t stall them long. You’re sure everyone else – ”
Departures Page 27
