by Tarah Benner
Eli’s face turns serious. “There’s no one else I’d want as a partner, Harper. I hope you know that.”
His earnestness catches me off guard. I tilt my head to the side, unsure what to say, and Eli reaches over to grasp my face with a rough, calloused hand.
My breath catches in my chest as his fingers thread through my hair and find a home on the back of my neck. I melt into him, and then his lips come crashing down onto mine.
He kisses me slowly — leisurely — letting his tongue explore my mouth. Between the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth enveloping us, my face feels as though it might combust at any moment.
His other hand cups my cheek, and I let my face rest in his palm as he teases me with soft, disappearing kisses.
Then he lets out a surprising little growl and pulls me into his lap. Before I even know what’s happening, I’m straddling his hips as his hands work their way up and down my back.
Feeling bold, I grind against him and deepen the kiss. He lets out a low groan and pulls me impossibly closer. I can feel every part of him pressed up against me. Then his fingers brush my collarbone, and a light desert breeze alerts me to the fact that he’s unsnapping my shirt.
I pull back, suppressing a chuckle. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he says in a rough voice, cracking a roguish grin and continuing to work his way down.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling but let him open my overshirt. My tank top is riding low in the front, and I have to hold in a gasp when he yanks down the fabric and bends his head for a kiss.
My breathing has gone completely haywire, and when his soft kiss becomes a tiny, painless bite, I can’t quite hold in my laughter. “Eli!”
He nuzzles me playfully, and by the time he comes up for air, he’s laughing, too. It’s a spectacular, full-body laugh that makes his deep blue eyes crinkle with joy.
I rarely get to see this side of him, and I don’t want him to stop. It’s amazing to think that just a moment ago, he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Now at least I know how to make him lighten up.
We stay like that for several delicious minutes, neither of us willing to return to reality.
Finally, I swing my legs around and fix my shirt, and we watch the sun sink lower on the horizon until it’s just an orange orb casting a coppery glow over the entire desert.
Eli’s warm hand finds mine, and he threads our fingers together and squeezes. I look over. He isn’t staring at the sunset; he’s looking down at our locked hands almost wistfully — as though he’s thinking of what might have been.
I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I don’t want to lose the loving, happy Eli. I have a feeling this part of him has already come back from the brink of death once before — when he lost his entire family and shut out the world to protect himself.
While most people in the compound were raised to think of what’s possible, Eli entered adulthood expecting nothing but one loss after another.
Without thinking, I lean over and place a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes snap onto mine, and he gives me a look more intense than anything I’ve ever seen from him.
“Ugh! Aren’t you two nauseating . . .”
I jump at the familiar voice, but Eli doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Nice of you to show up,” he says to the air.
Then a head appears over a small boulder, and Owen pulls himself up to our overlook. “I told you I’d be here.”
As long as I live, I’ll never get used to seeing Eli’s doppelgänger. Owen is slightly stockier and extremely tan, but other than that, they’re practically identical.
Today Owen’s wearing a tight gray beater that shows off his jagged scar and a pair of baggy camo shorts. His hat is stuck bill-first in his back pocket, so I can finally get a good look at his entire face. He’s sweaty, covered in dust, and has a few ugly bruises marring his left eye, but he’s just as good-looking as Eli.
He straightens up, and we get to our feet.
Before their earlier encounter, I might have thought the brothers would go in for an awkward hug or at least shake hands, but there’s no love lost between these two.
Instead, they just stand there staring at each other.
Owen is the first to break the awkward silence. “So what’s this about?” he asks. “I’m risking a lot just being here.”
Eli glares at him. “And you think we aren’t?”
Owen sets his jaw in a way that tells me he’s holding back some major attitude. “Then why are you here, Eli?”
Eli takes a deep breath and glances down at me. I know he’d rather cut off his own arm than get into this argument with Owen, but he doesn’t have a choice.
“My commander gave me an assignment,” he says slowly. “She’s asked me to take you out . . . you and Malcolm and Jackson.”
“So you’re here to assassinate me?” Owen scoffs. “That’s classy, Eli. Mom and Dad would be so proud.”
“No, you idiot. I’m here to warn you that people back at the compound want you dead. And my commander is throwing a lot of resources into this to make sure it happens.”
Owen rolls his eyes. “Tell your commander to get in line.”
“This is serious!” Eli growls. “I don’t think you understand how much reach they have.”
“I understand the compounds have been trying to exterminate every surviving human who gets too close for decades. I don’t really know how this is any different.”
A low rumble rolls up Eli’s chest, and I know his frustration has reached its breaking point. “They’re watching you.”
“You mean you’re watching me.”
“No. I mean they have you on surveillance footage. They’re tracking your movement, hoping you’ll lead them to Malcolm or Jackson.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “Well, luckily they sent you to take me out, huh?”
“No! It isn’t lucky!” Eli shouts. “Do you know what a mess this has been for me?”
“Don’t ask me to lead you to the others,” says Owen quietly. “Because the answer is going to be no.”
“I don’t need you to lead me to the others,” says Eli in an imploring voice. “I need you to let me fake your death. If I can just —”
Owen looks up to the heavens as though he’s begging for strength. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Just listen for a second. I’m not asking you to do anything crazy here. You just have to leave the area.”
“Look, Eli. I’ve got enough of my own shit to deal with right now.”
“And you think I don’t?”
“Let’s just say you won’t have to fake my death if I don’t get this smoothed over,” Owen snaps. “I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you pretended to be me, but —”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You could have chosen not to put the heat on your own brother! You told Malcolm you’d stick around, and then you disappeared. Jay and Mouse got shot, and now Tony is swearing up and down that there’s some double agent super sniper out there. They think I can’t be trusted!”
“I shouldn’t have let him go,” Eli mutters.
“That’s beside the point. This isn’t the compound, Eli. They don’t talk about having you killed. You just wind up dead.”
“You’re gonna wind up dead anyway if you don’t listen.”
“No offense, but the compound is not my main concern right now. I’m sorry if that puts the heat back on you, but I can’t make this my problem, too.”
“You don’t get it,” Eli growls. “If I don’t produce a dead drifter, Jayden is going to have Harper killed.”
For the first time since he climbed up here, Owen turns his attention to me, and I know I’m not imagining the subtle shrug of his shoulders that says he couldn’t care less if Jayden traded my life for his.
“Please,” says Eli, oblivious to his brother’s indifference. “Just do this one thing for me, and I swear I’ll never a
sk you for anything else.”
“Eli, I can’t go off the grid right now. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“You’re such an asshole,” I blurt.
Eli and Owen snap their heads around to stare at me, looking genuinely surprised that I’m weighing in on their discussion.
“Do you realize we could have killed Malcolm?” I ask, getting up in Owen’s face and stabbing a finger in his chest. “We were right there. He trusted us. And Eli didn’t do it because he knew it would bring the drifters down on you. Now he’s asking you for a favor, and you can’t be bothered. You’re just a selfish little coward.”
By the time I finish, Owen is breathing hard and staring down at me with such intense dislike that I physically recoil. Just a moment ago, I was marveling at the brothers’ resemblance, but I can’t imagine Eli ever looking at me the way Owen is.
There’s a long pregnant silence, and Owen finally speaks. “Where are the cameras?”
“All around the base,” says Eli. “You can’t go back there. They’ve got that area completely covered.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out Celdon’s map. “Just study this. If you stay out of the red zones, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Owen takes the folded piece of paper and stares at it as though he’s trying out his X-ray vision.
“Oh, and I need your hat,” Eli adds.
“My hat?”
Owen looks just as confused as I feel but pulls it out of his back pocket. He holds it out to Eli but doesn’t let go. “I’ll do this for you on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“I can’t say. Just meet me at the big church on the far side of town tomorrow at twelve oh five. You can’t miss it. There’s a big-ass cross out front. Just don’t come early, and stay out of sight.”
“Okay,” says Eli, just as surprised as I am that Owen’s agreed to go along with the plan.
“I have to get back.” He turns to go but stops short. “Listen . . . if you get caught, we don’t know each other. You’re just some guy who happens to look like me. I can’t have this coming back to haunt me, Eli — not right now.”
Owen has his back to us, so he doesn’t see Eli’s expression harden. But I do.
“Got it,” he says.
Owen lowers himself over the edge of the cliff without another word, leaving a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I’m not really sure what to think now. It sounded as though Owen was prepared to go along with our plan, but I have a hard time believing that my little speech could have prompted a change of heart when he was so against it before.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“What do you have to be sorry for? My brother is the one who won’t do something for me without asking for something else in return. Families, right? What a load of bullshit.”
“Eli, no. Don’t think of it that way.”
“How should I think of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t even trust me enough to listen! I’m trying to protect him, but he looks at me like I’m a total stranger.”
“But he agreed,” I reason. “That has to count for something, right?”
“It’s not what he did; it’s the way he did it. He only agreed out of guilt . . . or because he wants something.” He sighs. “Dad would be rolling over in his grave if he could see the man he’s become.”
“Eli . . .”
When I look over at him, the sight is enough to break my heart. He’s slumped forward over his knees, both hands clasped together. His hunched shoulders are big and muscular, but those eyes make him look like a little boy who’s been let down too many times.
Without thinking, I reach over and extricate one of his hands. It’s rough and dusty from all our rock climbing, but it folds easily around mine.
I take a deep breath. “Did you ever think that maybe Owen’s reaction is normal considering everything you two have been through?”
“What do you mean?”
“You two lost everything when you were kids.”
“Yeah, I know, Harper. I was there, remember?”
“I’m just saying that it affected Owen.”
“Hey, it affected me, too,” Eli growls. “I was younger than him. I didn’t have anybody. Then I went to the Institute and I still didn’t have anybody. But I remember what family means, so what’s his excuse?”
“I’m not saying he has an excuse. But I do think it’s pretty remarkable that you still have that love inside you after everything that’s happened. I’m not sure many people would be able to hold on to that.”
Eli doesn’t answer me, but his hand squeezes mine a little tighter. I can tell he’s mulling my words over and maybe trying to dig up a little bit of compassion for Owen.
By now, the sun has set below the horizon, throwing a faint purplish hue over everything. The sweltering heat has broken, and the temperature is starting to plummet. I shiver at the sudden lack of sunshine, and Eli gets up to build a fire.
I join in the search for wood and brush, and it’s strangely gratifying when the dry kindling blazes to life. Eli moves our blanket over to the pocket of warmth by the fire, and the mood lifts a little when he starts to heat one of our “just add water” meals.
He moves with such confidence that it’s hard to believe he could be so deeply affected by his brother’s treatment. But if I’ve learned anything in the past few weeks, it’s that Eli still has deep wounds from growing up without a family. It’s the reason he’s always pushing people away.
The dried noodle-and-bean concoction starts to boil over the fire, and Eli settles down next to me. We sit there watching the flames dance over the dark desert, and when he puts an arm around me to draw me close, all I can think is how glad I am that he let me in.
twenty-four
Eli
Owen couldn’t have picked a worse meet-up spot if he’d tried.
According to my interface, the church is on the far side of the town, which means we either have to take a wide path near the highway or risk showing our faces downtown.
The highway is definitely the safer choice, but it would take at least twice as long. Going through town seems to be the better option.
After a hasty breakfast of half-cooked noodles boiled over the dying fire, Harper and I start making our way down the cliff. By the time we reach the outskirts of town, the heat is back in full force, and it feels as though I’m melting into the cracked earth.
We pass the block with the sandwich shop where we found Owen, and I begin to get a strange prickle of unease on the back of my neck.
We haven’t encountered a single drifter yet, and it seems too good to be true.
On the next corner, we stumble upon a brown clapboard tavern with “McNally’s” spelled out along the side in cheery white letters. A few faded posters advertising different beer brands are plastered inside the dusty windows, and there are half a dozen cars parked in the crumbling lot out back.
It’s too bright to see if there are people inside, but my skin is tingling with nerves.
Just then, the tavern door flies open, and a flurry of male voices escapes. I pull Harper behind a dumpster and crouch down out of sight, hoping the drifters don’t hop in their cars and drive around the block.
“No screwups this time.”
“Malcolm said everything is in place.”
“But last time —”
“Last time we didn’t have a contingency plan.”
“I’m just saying . . . the whole project was delayed because we lost our man on the inside.”
“Well, Travis was a dumb motherfucker.”
“If you say so.”
My breath is caught in my lungs, and my grip on Harper’s shoulder is so tight that she eventually squirms free.
Three drifters stride into view, heading down the street in the same direction we were going. They’re all dressed like Owen and toting
serious-looking rifles, their heads bent in conversation.
“You think they were the only ones in there?” breathes Harper.
“No. But we can’t wait around to find out.”
I glance nervously up at the sky. The sun will be directly overhead in less than an hour, which means we need to hurry if we want to reach Owen on time.
I wait a few more seconds to make sure there aren’t any stragglers leaving the tavern and make a break for the rear of the building. Harper follows me down the next street, and we continue our journey to the far side of town.
We catch sight of a few more drifters loitering outside of buildings, but they’re all too preoccupied to notice the scuff of our boots or our shadows moving behind parked cars.
Finally, the downtown gives way to blocks of older homes with chain-link fences and dried-up lawns. There’s a donut shop on one corner and a dry cleaner on another, but there’s little else in the way of businesses.
Slowly, the historic neighborhoods with presidential street names turn into cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac of nearly identical houses.
Here, the streets all have nature names like “Bear Creek Court” or “Alder Drive,” but there are no alder trees or bears in sight.
We seem to have entered some sort of pre–Death Storm development. Every house is built from the same palette of light beige, hunter green, and burnt orange, with clean lines and archways meant to appear modern and luxurious.
The perfect emptiness gives me a shiver. These houses don’t feel abandoned — they feel as though they were never lived in.
Harper must be getting bad vibes, too, because she picks up the pace and cuts through the dead yards with a purposeful look in her eyes.
We reach the edge of the development, which is flanked by a low stone wall that reads “Cactus Ridge.” That’s when I see the church.
Owen sure wasn’t kidding when he said we couldn’t miss it. It’s one of those crescent-shaped megachurches that takes up the span of an entire city block.
If it weren’t for the twenty-foot copper cross adorning the glass entryway, I might have mistaken the place for a shopping mall. There’s a massive parking lot out front and a dried-up fountain flanked by overgrown desert plants.
