Kitabı oku: «Meridian», sayfa 5

CHAPTER NINE
MARINA

We’ve moved fully into the Dark, walking shoulder to shoulder with the unnamed Fade on either side.

Are they a good thing or a bad thing? I ask Cherish.

Guard, she says, but is that a warning, or does she mean they’re a guard detail?

Why would we need guards? I ask, but she doesn’t have an answer for that.

Instead she says, Home .

That’s all she cares about—getting home.

She wants to be here. She wants to stay.

The moment I pressed my toes into the Arc, Cherish was pushing me to leave so hard, I could feel hands at my back. Other hands were reaching out for me the way they do in my dreams of belonging, promising to pull me home.

Home, Cherish says again.

Not for me, I say back.

It’s chilly here. The Dark’s always cool because of the shade, but this is more. Tobin’s hand is a block of ice inside mine. The heat flows off my body, siphoned away so I’m left shivering. The leaves and branches rattle, but there’s no wind. They’re shivering, too.

The Dark’s afraid.

“They’re scared,” I whisper back to Tobin, casting a wary glance at the male Fade beside him. Even if they don’t want to answer us, they can still understand us.

“Because the lights came on?”

“I don’t think so.” The Arc has kept the Fade away for decades. Crossing it is painful for them, if not outright lethal, but the lights don’t reach this deep.

What’s wrong? I ask Cherish.

I expect her to answer the way Rue would, by allowing me to touch the hive’s mind, so I brace for the flood of noise and emotions that comes with it, but it never happens. She might as well have plugged her ears.

“She’s locked me out,” I say.

Cherish is doing this on purpose. She’s hiding something.

“You try,” I suggest.

“Try what?” Tobin asks.

“To talk to them. Try to hear.”

If Tobin is turning, he’ll be able to.

“I don’t know—I mean, how?” Tobin asks uncertainly, but he never suggests that he might not be able to hear them. Our shared nightmares, and Trey’s drawings, are coming from somewhere, and the hive is the only source out here.

“Act like you’re trying to get someone’s attention in a crowd. Pick someone you know and then shout.”

Tobin stops, bringing us all to a clumsy halt as he closes his eyes.

“I feel like an idiot,” he says. His face draws up more like someone in pain than attempting communication.

“You look like an idiot,” I say, and he scowls. “Did you hear anything?”

“Does my spiking blood pressure count?”

Sigh. I’ll take that as a no.

“It was worth a shot,” I say.

And, if nothing else, there’s a renewed sense of peace to Tobin’s demeanor. The hive didn’t answer him. They don’t answer humans.

Maybe that’s why they aren’t answering me. I chose a human existence; this is the cost.

Continue .

As if to prove me wrong, the male Fade speaks.

I’m not an outcast, I’m a misbehaving child, only allowed to speak when spoken to. One being told to stay out of the important conversations.

Motion, says the female. Forward .

“We should go,” I tell Tobin, and we head deeper into the Dark, hand in hand.

The Dark’s always moving. Nanites swirl across their hosts’ skin, displaying emotions better than any expression. Lines of black crisscross the ground and snake up trees, altering their appearance in a neverending crawl. If they stop the cycle, the ones on top creating the canopy will die from too much sun exposure. They mourn every voice lost and try to preserve as many as possible. Here, the greater good is distilled for the good of one.

Haunting reminders of the world before the Fade appear without warning. Some are subtle, like the painted lines on the ground that peek through gaps of rolling Fade, only to be covered again a second later. Others, like buildings that stand in various stages of decay, are harsher.

Eyes watch us. Ghostly faces appear and disappear at random; shimmers follow us from high up on the trees. Here and there, fully formed Fade approach from the remnants of houses, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re the ones who were human in the beginning. Were these their homes?

“You think they’d at least tell us their names,” Tobin says after a while. “They have names, right?”

I hear a growl, so close it makes me jump, but Tobin doesn’t move until I do, so the sound has to be for my ears only.

“What now?” he asks, tightening his grip on my hand. His eyes and ears don’t adjust as fast as mine. Here, I’m the one protecting him .

“I think he heard you,” I say. “He growled.”

Negative, says the male Fade, followed by the same fearsome sound.

He lifts the sleeve of his jacket to bare his arm and then points to a shape drawn with colored lines. They’re static, and not crisp, until a rush of nanites darkens them, highlighting the image of a vicious animal lunging off his bicep, mouth open in a snarl.

“Is that your name?” I ask.

He growls again, replacing the sleeve over other pictures, including the obscure outline of a woman’s body on his inner forearm. The Fade have tried to mimic the ink he had tattooed on before they came.

“They call him Dog,” I say.

“Does that make her Cat?” Tobin snorts.

Shh . The impression of a sharp hiss of air comes from the female. Speak softly .

“Speak—Oh! Your name’s Whisper.”

The female gives me a sharp nod, the only truly human gesture I’ve seen from either of them.

“We’re Marina and Tobin,” I say.

Invisible water washes over my legs, just as it did when Rue tried to make me understand that Marina was the place where he lost Cherish. Honoria made it my name, and now Whisper and Dog have, too.

After the water comes the streak of light Cherish attached to Tobin, but it’s only Whisper repeating his name. No one could have told her that name but Cherish.

Somehow Cherish can talk to them without me hearing it. I can’t shake the feeling that my Fade-self is lurking in the secret parts of my memory, using my own brain to plot against me. If I can’t hear her, I can’t anticipate what she’s planning. I can’t protect myself.

This is my body; I should have the advantage, not her.

“This looks familiar,” Tobin says of the deeper parts of the Dark. The relief ’s so thick in his voice, I could pluck it from the air like fruit from the Arbor. “Either it’s all running together, or I recognize this place.”

He’s right. The monotony has broken, giving way to familiar trees with distinct roots and knots that mark the gates of the human-neighborhood-turned-Fade-settlement. The first houses are visible as swaths of white and blue, where metal siding has resisted both Fade and time. Birds a light on the eaves, trilling out a sound that can’t really be called a song, but it’s comforting. They sound like Rue’s real name. Flowers and ornate fungi spring up out of the ground as we pass, creating a path to lead us the final steps.

The color’s a spontaneous display of relief. Tension settles out of the air now that we’ve reached the place the Fade consider safe. They were worried we might not make it.

What could scare a Fade in the Dark?

“I know I was preoccupied the last time we were here, but this is . . . not like it used to be,” Tobin says.

More guards like Whisper and Dog mill the fringes in pairs. Security patrols . The loose nanites, which usually hang from the trees as moss, now form a fence, joining the trees together. The leaves rustle overhead, and Tobin points up. More regimented Fade are folded into the branches, clinging to the trunks with the claws that only appear on their hands when they need to climb. They’re all on alert.

We gain followers, so that by the time we reach the middle of the neighborhood, and the crowd waiting for us there, another has us penned in from behind.

“Bolt!” I cry, recognizing him in the group. I wave him over, but he turns and disappears. “Wait! Come back!”

“I really hope I was wrong about this being a setup,” Tobin says as one of the few Fade we know on sight deserts us.

“Me, too.”

Otherwise, I don’t think we’re going anywhere.

Maybe ever.

CHAPTER TEN
MARINA

Pine needles .

Evergreen.

“Mom!”

The ashen blur of faces parts to allow my mother to the front, and the scent of pine fills the air, calming as a tranquilizer on my nerves.

“Why didn’t you come back?” I ask. “I kept looking for you at the Arc.”

Searched, is her answer, but she didn’t have to look for me. I’m not the one who left.

She stretches out her hand, grasping mine. I’m pale compared to most of the people in the Arclight, but there’s a difference in human pale and Fade-white. Her skin’s warmer than mine, her pulse a mix of blood and nanites flowing through her veins.

I’m no longer the same species as my mother.

The lines uncoil from her arms, rushing toward her hands and mine in greeting. Tobin grabs her wrist.

“Don’t,” he orders.

“She’s my mother, Tobin. She won’t hurt me.”

“No, she’s a Fade’s mother. You’re some human girl she met once.”

“Let her go,” I say bitterly, but I’m not sure he’s wrong. Evergreen braved the Arclight to retrieve her stolen daughter, not knowing I was going to stay Marina and leave her alone.

Her face stays passive, but the lines on her skin flatten out into wide blotches, giving her the appearance of deep bruises.

“He’s not threatening you, Mom. Things have been pretty rough tonight, and—”

Outsider .

She places a hand over my mouth, cutting me off and glaring at Tobin.

Speak, she says.

“You know him,” I say, muffled.

Speak .

My mother doesn’t like my voice. She wants me to talk like a Fade.

She holds out her hands again, this time waiting for me to take them, and I do.

“I’ll be okay,” I tell Tobin over her head.

The marks on my mother’s hands slip on to mine, bridging the gap between human and Fade. It’s still not the full connection, where the hive chatters away with a million voices all saying shades of the same thing, but the sense of belonging is there. Expressions of worry and relief tumble from Evergreen’s side of the link, followed by warnings for carefulness without context.

She sifts through my thoughts, pleased to see the Arbor. It seems I’ve always liked plants. There’s a warm glow for the scenes with Anne-Marie, at least until she reaches the horror of being abandoned in a room with Honoria Whit.

Thoughts of Honoria bring my mother’s attention to my hand, bubbling with excitement when she finds it healed. She seeks out every reference to Cherish I’ve locked away, dredging them out as if to say look here or be this . But I let go, stepping away with my hands behind my back before Cherish can reconnect with our mother.

Evergreen stares at me with glistening eyes and a sense of hurt so real that I may as well have slapped her.

“Why are you crying?” Tobin asks.

I didn’t know I was.

Separated, Evergreen charges at the sound of his voice. Disconnected .

“It’s not his fault,” I insist.

Why do you not speak? she asks. Listen .

“Fear,” I say.

Which fear?

How am I supposed to put that into words?

I show her a piece of my nightmare in hope that she’ll understand that it feels like the shadows are choking me.

I’ll drown, I say. The Dark will bury me .

Negative .

Affirmed, I argue. I’ve seen it .

I show her the tidal wave.

“I don’t want to be washed away,” I tell her.

Seen where?

The question is more forceful than the others. Desperate.

Fade drop from their perches, creating new rings around us, so escape moves further out of reach. Dog and Whisper inch closer.

“What’s happening?” Tobin asks. “What did she do?”

“It’s not her. It’s me.” I’ve triggered something, causing the whole hive to thrum with tense hostility.

We’re surrounded.

Show them, my mother says. Where was the Darkness seen?

See, the others echo, hissing like a tangle of snakes. See, see, see .

The Fade surge, shrinking the space Tobin and I have left. There’s no grass anymore, no colorful foliage. Everything’s gone black.

“What do they want?” Tobin asks.

“Our nightmare.”

“I’d say they’ve got the basic idea.”

The nanites cling to his clothes and mine where our trouser legs brush against them. He shakes his foot, stepping high, but they hold fast. Hands and fingers grab at my arms and face, each covered in nanites seeking a connection.

“Back up,” I say. “Back off.”

My mother shifts her grip on my hands. There’s nothing welcoming or warm about the gesture, and she won’t let go. She’s holding me still.

See . Show .

“It’s a dream!” I shout. Not real . False .

The concept of dreaming doesn’t translate. They crowd closer, leaving no space between them. I can’t see anything but Fade with angry, churning lines of nanites. They grab at me, trying to make contact, but there are too many.

“Let me breathe!”

But they don’t. Nanites rush my skin from every direction, pouring in like a flood. They burrow in to find the dream and go zipping through, viewing it from different angles as it speeds up and slows down, so they can focus on the details they want.

“Stop!” I shove out with the hand my mother isn’t holding. “Stop!”

Cease ! Cherish says with me.

And, finally, they listen. The result is instantaneous as the command ripples through. The Fade go still, but they don’t move even an inch. Tobin and I are back-to-back, a breath from the closest faces.

“Nice trick,” he says. “Now get them to back up.”

Remove, Cherish says.

They seem to ignore her at first, but only because there are so many. It takes time for space to open and allow them to comply.

The crowd dissipates, returning to doorways and broken windows. Scrambling up trees and into the brush. Some disappear but remain as shimmering lines nearby. They give us our space, but none stop watching.

“Why did you do that?” I demand of my mother. She finally releases me. “We came here for help. Why did you attack us?”

Negative . I do not attack mine . Endanger mine .

“Well, I feel endangered.”

“So do I,” Tobin says. She scowls at him again—one of the few emotions I’ve ever seen on a Fade face.

“If this is your idea of help, we’re leaving.” Coming here was a mistake. “Tell Rue it would have been nice to see him, but I guess he couldn’t be bothered.”

So much for “never alone.”

I refuse to look to either side as I head for the archway we passed through on our way in. I don’t doubt the others are moving with us.

“Are we really leaving?” Tobin asks quietly.

“Unless they—”

A wall of four Fade appear in our path, bodies forming one nanite-infused cell at a time. Behind them, the archway closes off, sealed from top to bottom with a flowing blockade of nanites.

“Stop us,” I finish.

“Move,” I say. I even try Cherish’s version: Remove .

Wait, they say.

“There has to be another way out of here,” Tobin says nervously.

“They’d beat us there and seal it. They say to wait, but I don’t—”

“M’winna!”

Blanca?

A wave of unabashed excitement rolls over me, accompanied by the scent of flowers. My baby sister may be small, but she makes up for it in personality.

“M’winna!”

She squeals, throwing her arm around my leg and hugging tight. She’s wearing the same dress as the last time I saw her. It dulls from blue and red to grow into a duplicate of my uniform. I’d wondered how the Fade’s clothes managed not to rot like the buildings did and why the Fade left the Arclight’s refugees to wear dirty and bloodstained things when their own clothes always look clean and new.

“Finally, a friendly face,” Tobin says, reaching down to tug on one of Blanca’s heavy curls.

“Tibby!” Blanca throws her other arm around Tobin’s knee, holding us together.

“I think that’s probably supposed to be Toby,” I say, snickering at his annoyed face. “She learned most of her words from Anne-Marie.”

I lift Blanca away from Tobin, and she squints, sending a flood of flowerlike shapes and scents directly into my mind.

“I remember,” I assure her. “I won’t forget you again.”

She squeals again, nearly choking me.

“M’winna hears!”

“Sometimes.”

“Love you.”

Her voice is shaky, and she looks up with those huge, questioning eyes to see if the words are right. I hug her tighter, kissing her on top of the head.

“Love you, too, flower girl.”

Pine needles, sharp and biting, imprint over the petals, and an irritated Evergreen appears at my side. Her arms are out, demanding possession of her younger child, but Blanca doesn’t want to let go.

“M’winna me!” she cries.

“I think you’d better listen to Mom.”

A sullen and dimmed Blanca allows herself to be shifted to our mother’s side. I want to promise I’ll say good bye before we leave, but the way Evergreen’s holding her angled away, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it. My mother’s treating me like poison.

Does she think that by staying too close, Blanca will be contaminated and go silent, like me? If I infect Blanca with my humanity, she won’t have any children left.

“So is Rueful actually not here?” Tobin asks. Normally, I’d call him out for mocking the name I gave Rue when we first met, but I’ve heard him say worse.

“I don’t know. I thought there’d be—”

Something . Suddenly there’s definitely something.

It starts like breaking dawn, spilling sunlight into the darkness. Tobin’s oblivious, but inside my mind or my heart, maybe some shadowed recess Cherish has carved out for herself, I feel the change and turn toward it like an early morning bloom seeking the sun.

Bolt went to get Rue, and now they’ve returned, walking side by side toward us.

Tobin speaks, but his voice is dull static, making no impact beneath the flood of sound from the hive. They’re speaking now, in a frenzy, but not to me. Cherish gains the upper hand and charges toward Rue on my feet, nearly tackling him to the ground.

I can’t stop her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
MARINA

“Marina!”

It takes Tobin shouting that twice before I remember he’s here. Twice more, and I remember it’s my name.

The connection between Rue and Cherish is open. He’s trying to foster the link, as someone would blow across struggling embers to rekindle a dead fire, but he’s too late. The spark’s gone.

“Put me down, Rue,” I say.

Heat infuses my cheeks, turning them at least pink. Fade don’t blush. Their faces are always pale, no matter what they feel, but the human me can show embarrassment just fine. I don’t even want to think about how stupid I look.

My voice is stronger, and despite Cherish’s attempts to anchor herself, I shove her back until she’s caged again.

I’m still in control.

Rue’s not letting go, though. I’ve unwound my legs, but he’s still holding me up, letting my legs dangle until Tobin clears his throat.

“You are not staying to home.” Rue loosens his arms and lets me drop. I’d say he’s scowling, but he always looks like that.

My stomach clenches. He thought Cherish had come back to him.

“Home is safer,” Rue says. “You have seen the Darkness. You should stay to home.”

“This isn’t her home.” Tobin goes zero to fury in four words.

“I can handle this, Tobin. We didn’t come here for a fight.”

“We didn’t come here to move in, either,” he says. “That goes for both of you. I can’t drag half of you back across the Grey, and I’m not leaving any of you behind.”

He starts pacing the settlement’s central area.

I sense movement behind me and glance back to find my mother stalking off with Blanca in her arms, but that’s a pain for another day.

“I can’t stay, Rue,” I say. “We’re here because we need your help.”

“You are unhurt.”

I’m grateful he’s speaking out loud so there’s no need to translate.

“I’m fine, but someone else might not be.”

He glares at Tobin, assuming he’s the only reason I’d be here and not staying. I guess the concept of a visit isn’t familiar to him.

“It’s not him. Well, not just him. Please, Rue, what difference does it make who needs help?”

“I’ve helped already. We have helped.”

His speech is stilted by agitation but more natural than I remember, as though he’s been practicing.

“I know. You healed Tobin for me. You brought his father back, but—”

“We’re still helping.”

Rue’s physical tics are very particular. The way he tilts his head, cutting his eyes up—he’s searching for the right word, not arguing.

“Helping how?” I ask.

“Holding back.”

“Try sentences longer than two words,” Tobin grumbles.

“I need more, Rue,” I say. “What are you holding back? Say it any way you have to, just help me understand.”

His answer is a rush of overwhelming Darkness. Thick and clinging, with a dragging weight that attaches to my arms and legs, crushing the air from my lungs. Clouds and tides, of choking black smoke. They surround the Arclight, breaking over the top to wash away everything inside. It’s all gone. There’s nothing left.

My nightmare, and Tobin’s.

“You’re holding back the Dark?”

“We prevent the Dark,” he corrects.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You live in the Dark. It’s all around us. What—”

“He’s stalling to keep you here,” Tobin cuts in. “Ask him what they did to Trey, so we can go home already. I want to go home.”

While we still can . I finish in my head.

“What is Trey?” Rue asks.

“The boy Bolt . . .er . . . he healed.” I nod Bolt’s direction, unsure if Rue knows the names I use for other Fade. “Something’s wrong with him.”

“He had marks,” Tobin says. “Like yours. His eyes were shining.”

The general wariness that’s been present since we entered the settlement ratchets up to something more tense.

“Could you have missed some of the nanites when you took them back?” I turn to Bolt.

“All of mine are present.”

“You saw the lights come on tonight, right?” Tobin shoulders past me, so he’s facing Rue and Bolt.

“Yes,” Bolt says.

“That’s your sister. She’s got some serious paranoia issues.”

Everyone wanted things back to how they were before. Somehow I doubt they’ll enjoy getting their wish.

“And because of that, the dividing line’s back up.” He turns to Rue. “Tell us how to fix this, or the lights stay on and you’re stuck your side. Without Marina. You won’t be able to come back.”

Rue’s marks draw tighter as he struggles to keep his own temper in check.

“I told you he hasn’t been back,” I say.

“He hasn’t been seen,” Tobin corrects. “But he’s been back. And he’s sent others—haven’t you, Nanobot? I caught your invisible buddy beyond the lights.”

“I sent no one,” Rue says.

I back away, intent on not becoming the catalyst for a fight, only to be caught off guard and off balance when Blanca bursts straight out of the ground and back into view.

“M’winna me!” she cries, distraught, lunging for my leg. The impact’s slight, but it’s enough to take me down and bring her with me.

“Blanca?”

“M’winna me!” she bawls into my chest, curling closer. She buries her face in my hair, whining “Mim” and reeking of singed pine.

“Is she hurt?” Tobin asks.

“I think she’s mad at our mother,” I say, struggling to my feet while balancing Blanca. “She’ll be okay.”

“How about you?” Tobin asks, picking at my sleeve. The tumble’s pushed it up, and I skinned my arm on the gravel. I hardly even feel it.

“Heal?” Rue offers.

“It’s nothing,” I assure him. Blanca’s already winding down to sniffles; I’m not about to set her down over a few scratches. “I get worse than this in the rec room during class.”

“Nothing doesn’t leave bloodstains,” Rue says, startling me so bad that flames ignite behind my ears.

“What did you say?” I ask.

“Nothing doesn’t leave bloodstains,” he repeats, precisely in the same tone and cadence as he’d said it before, only neither of them are his. The rhythm’s wrong.

“It was you!”

I always thought the idea of a person snarling was fanciful language meant for stories, but it is, indeed, possible. Blanca wriggles out of my arms. Bolt, who is nearby, tries to calm me down, like he’s done before with others, but he backs off when I glare at him. Cherish must have a nasty temper.

“You’re the reason his eyes turned silver,” I rage at Rue.

“What?” Tobin asks.

“Those were the exact words you said to me when your eyes flashed. He was listening to us.”

That’s why Cherish wanted to protect Tobin from Honoria! He’s her connection to Rue.

“What did you do?” I demand.

Rue stays silent, both in speech and thought. He doesn’t deny anything.

“Are some of those . . . those . . . things still inside me?” Tobin asks, shaking. He’s about a half-breath from coming unglued.

“Rue! Answer him!”

“Cherish did not return to home. Home remained to Cherish.”

“You left them behind? To what—spy on me? To make sure Tobin keeps his distance?”

No wonder Tobin has been awkward around me; there’s been an invisible Rue wall between us.

“Get them out!” Tobin loses it. He’s slapping his hands against his arms and sides, scrubbing at his face and clawing through his hair. Bolt steps up and puts a hand on his shoulder, but Tobin is beyond calming. “Get them out of me!”

“They are not harmful,” Rue says.

“That’s not the point! You can’t garrison someone’s body without asking. This is exactly the kind of thing Honoria expects you to do, Rue. Get them out of him—NOW!”

“Now, for M’winna!” Blanca adds with a stamp of her little foot. She hooks Tobin’s leg again. “Now, for Tibby!”

Reluctantly, Rue walks over to Tobin. A flare of panic crosses Tobin’s face as Rue reaches for him. Tobin cringes back, fists up. It’s a reflex. He’s too unsteady to really defend himself.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” I say, taking his hand. “Rue has to touch you, but you don’t have to watch.”

Tobin swallows so hard it looks like the spit sticks in his throat; his breathing’s erratic, but he nods.

Of all the things Rue could have done . . .

Exposure to the Fade cost Tobin his mother and almost lost him his father. There’s no nightmare greater for him than losing himself the same way.

Tobin’s fingers tighten on mine until I want to scream, but you can’t scream and gasp at the same time. Swirls of Fade-lines bleed into his skin, dancing across his face and neck. The black crystal nanites ooze from his pores, flowing to Rue’s hands, and with one final flash of silver in his eyes, they’re finished.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“No.” Tobin walks away, still trembling, still swallowing, and trying not to hyperventilate. I let him go.

“Are they really gone this time?” I ask Rue.

“Returned.” He nods.

“All of them?”

Cherish lets out a mourning wail inside my head. I’ll take that as a yes.

“Good. Now go get the ones you left in Trey,” I tell Bolt.

“I left nothing behind but my other,” he says.

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

Silence.

My question is answered by absolutely nothing, followed by the sequential slamming of doors as the hive tightens its hold on their secrets.

“Tell me!”

They refuse.

Evergreen returns, accompanied by a male. His eyes are round saucers, like Blanca’s, but the rest is me. My pointed chin. My nose. He’s my father, I’m sure of it. I try to get a fix on him, but like with the others, everything’s gone. He’s blank.

“How did things get weirder around here?” Tobin asks, taking my hand again.

“Something’s got them spooked, but they don’t want us to know what it is.”

The crowd’s gone completely still. They’re a living photograph, frozen in place. Bolt and Rue look like marble statues. Fade-lines drop from their bodies and onto the ground, mingling and then shooting back up on their bodies.

Communication .

Either that’s Cherish or a memory. I’m not sure which, but this is some Fade version of a town-hall meeting.

Blanca flees across the open square and leaps into our father’s arms, suddenly terrified.

When the pulsing exchange of symbionts between the Fade stops, Rue makes a gesture that causes the rest of them to scatter. Only Rue and Bolt remain with our guards from before.

“Remain or return,” Rue says.

Choose .

He emphasizes the word with a finality I don’t like.

“Are you asking if we want to stay here?”

“Marina, we can’t. If they’ve initiated the SOS protocols . . .”

Then the clock’s ticking. If Col. Lutrell checks his alarm and finds Tobin missing, or if they do a head count and we’re not there . . . We can’t miss the window for reentry. We’ll be assumed unsafe and shot on sight.

“Remain or return,” Rue repeats. “Home is safer.”

“We have to go back, but Trey needs—”

“Then we will return you. You will show me your Trey, and we will prevent the Darkness.”

Rue and Bolt take up positions in front of us. Dog and Whisper file in behind us. We needed two guards to get in and four to get out. This is not comforting.

“Rue, what aren’t you telling us?” I ask.

“Mouth closed politely,” he says, heading for the short side’s exit and the lights waiting on the other side.