Deliverance
Page 102
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“Let’s go,” Willow says as she swings her body into the nearest hickory and starts moving. Adam follows her. Frankie walks beside me while Smithson and Nola bring up the rear.
I check the tracking device for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last hour, but it remains stubbornly dark. No sign of Rachel’s wristmark signal. I tell myself it’s because she’s deep inside the city, too far for me to track.
I can’t consider the other alternative. Not if I want to stay focused.
“Anything yet?” Frankie asks.
I shake my head, but don’t bother coming up with excuses for why I still can’t find a trace of her. Frankie’s heard them already. Multiple times. Repeating myself in a desperate bid to keep my flagging hope alive is more than I can take.
Frankie repeats them for me. “Just means she’s in the southern edge of the city or to the east somewhere. Maybe they’re holding her deep underground where the signal can’t reach.”
I can’t answer him. Not because I can’t imagine Rachel in a deep, dark hole, but because I can. I can see her suffering under Rowansmark’s pain atonement laws. I can see her turned over to Ian to do with as he pleases. I can see her dead.
Shoving that thought away, I pick up the pace and check the tracking device again out of habit.
It glows a faint blue.
My knees give out. I have to grab the nearest hickory trunk and hang on to keep my footing as relief, bright and giddy, rushes through me, chasing away the dark specters I couldn’t bear to face.
“We’re on the right track.” My voice shakes, but I don’t care because I’ve finally found her.
Frankie squeezes my shoulder and says softly, “Told you she’d be okay.”
I meet his gaze for a second and then start half walking, half running east. The light on the tracking device flickers for the first few yards but then grows steadily stronger.
Willow drops out of a tree and lands in front of me, and I nearly plow into her.
“Slow down,” she says sternly, grabbing fistfuls of my cloak when I try to move past her. “It could be a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then slow down. Sheesh. Being in love knocks the common sense right out of you, doesn’t it?”
I glance up at Adam and grin. “I don’t know, Willow. You tell me.”
She rolls her eyes, but pink glows in her cheeks. “Use your head for a few more minutes. Once you find her, you can kiss her and tell her all the mushy things I know you two say to each other. Just do the rest of us a favor and make sure you’re alone when you do so. I like to keep my dinner in my stomach.”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes even as I slow my pace and walk past her. “So last night you weren’t kissing Adam up in a tree? Because I could swear I heard—”
She smacks my back hard enough to make me stop talking. I raise my hands in mock surrender and keep moving east.
The sun is drifting to the west when the tracking device glows a deep, brilliant blue. We’re at the northeastern edge of the Wasteland overlooking Rowansmark. If we climb a tree, we can still see the city, shining gold and brown in the late afternoon sun.
She’s here. I scan the trees, the clumps of bushes, and the pads of moss lying underfoot, but I don’t see anything out of place.
“Spread out,” I say, and my people move through the trees, looking for signs.
Five minutes pass without a single trace of her other than the steadily glowing light of the tracking device, but then I hear a faint voice say, “Logan?”
It could be a trap. I know it could. But I can’t stop myself from rushing forward to find her. I duck behind trees and look over my shoulder, searching for a threat, but I can’t take my time. Everything inside of me yearns to see her. To touch her and assure myself that she’s real.
“Found her!” Willow calls from my left.
I sprint, but when I get to Willow, I don’t see Rachel. “Where is she?”
“Near the top of the tree.” Willow points, and I follow a series of deep gouges in the trunk of a huge oak until I see a glimmer of red in the uppermost cradle.
“Rachel!” I press my palms against the tree trunk as if I can somehow reach through it and touch her instead.
“I’m up here.” Her voice hitches as if she’s crying.
I want to tear the tree down, branch by branch, to reach her, but I make myself take a deep breath and say calmly, “You can come down now. It’s safe.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and the leaves near the top of the tree rustle, but then she cries out, a sharp sound of pain that hits me like a punch to the stomach.
“I’ll go see what’s wrong,” Willow says.
“No, I’ll go.” I’m already wrapping my hands around the lowest branch.
“I’m faster—”
“I’m going.” I swing my body onto the branch and start climbing as fast as I can.
It takes less than three minutes to get to Rachel. It feels like a lifetime. I see her hair first, glowing like fire in the afternoon sun, and it’s like coming home for the first time in weeks. She’s lashed herself to two branches in the uppermost cradle using kudzu. The cloak she’s wearing isn’t hers. Grabbing the branches she tied herself to, I haul myself into the cradle beside her and just stare into her beautiful face.
I want to find the words to tell her what it means to me to see her again—that a hollow space that opened up inside of me when she disappeared is whole again—but I’m suddenly out of words. There aren’t any for what I feel. I lean forward and press my forehead to hers, close my eyes, and just take her in one breath at a time.
I check the tracking device for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last hour, but it remains stubbornly dark. No sign of Rachel’s wristmark signal. I tell myself it’s because she’s deep inside the city, too far for me to track.
I can’t consider the other alternative. Not if I want to stay focused.
“Anything yet?” Frankie asks.
I shake my head, but don’t bother coming up with excuses for why I still can’t find a trace of her. Frankie’s heard them already. Multiple times. Repeating myself in a desperate bid to keep my flagging hope alive is more than I can take.
Frankie repeats them for me. “Just means she’s in the southern edge of the city or to the east somewhere. Maybe they’re holding her deep underground where the signal can’t reach.”
I can’t answer him. Not because I can’t imagine Rachel in a deep, dark hole, but because I can. I can see her suffering under Rowansmark’s pain atonement laws. I can see her turned over to Ian to do with as he pleases. I can see her dead.
Shoving that thought away, I pick up the pace and check the tracking device again out of habit.
It glows a faint blue.
My knees give out. I have to grab the nearest hickory trunk and hang on to keep my footing as relief, bright and giddy, rushes through me, chasing away the dark specters I couldn’t bear to face.
“We’re on the right track.” My voice shakes, but I don’t care because I’ve finally found her.
Frankie squeezes my shoulder and says softly, “Told you she’d be okay.”
I meet his gaze for a second and then start half walking, half running east. The light on the tracking device flickers for the first few yards but then grows steadily stronger.
Willow drops out of a tree and lands in front of me, and I nearly plow into her.
“Slow down,” she says sternly, grabbing fistfuls of my cloak when I try to move past her. “It could be a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then slow down. Sheesh. Being in love knocks the common sense right out of you, doesn’t it?”
I glance up at Adam and grin. “I don’t know, Willow. You tell me.”
She rolls her eyes, but pink glows in her cheeks. “Use your head for a few more minutes. Once you find her, you can kiss her and tell her all the mushy things I know you two say to each other. Just do the rest of us a favor and make sure you’re alone when you do so. I like to keep my dinner in my stomach.”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes even as I slow my pace and walk past her. “So last night you weren’t kissing Adam up in a tree? Because I could swear I heard—”
She smacks my back hard enough to make me stop talking. I raise my hands in mock surrender and keep moving east.
The sun is drifting to the west when the tracking device glows a deep, brilliant blue. We’re at the northeastern edge of the Wasteland overlooking Rowansmark. If we climb a tree, we can still see the city, shining gold and brown in the late afternoon sun.
She’s here. I scan the trees, the clumps of bushes, and the pads of moss lying underfoot, but I don’t see anything out of place.
“Spread out,” I say, and my people move through the trees, looking for signs.
Five minutes pass without a single trace of her other than the steadily glowing light of the tracking device, but then I hear a faint voice say, “Logan?”
It could be a trap. I know it could. But I can’t stop myself from rushing forward to find her. I duck behind trees and look over my shoulder, searching for a threat, but I can’t take my time. Everything inside of me yearns to see her. To touch her and assure myself that she’s real.
“Found her!” Willow calls from my left.
I sprint, but when I get to Willow, I don’t see Rachel. “Where is she?”
“Near the top of the tree.” Willow points, and I follow a series of deep gouges in the trunk of a huge oak until I see a glimmer of red in the uppermost cradle.
“Rachel!” I press my palms against the tree trunk as if I can somehow reach through it and touch her instead.
“I’m up here.” Her voice hitches as if she’s crying.
I want to tear the tree down, branch by branch, to reach her, but I make myself take a deep breath and say calmly, “You can come down now. It’s safe.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and the leaves near the top of the tree rustle, but then she cries out, a sharp sound of pain that hits me like a punch to the stomach.
“I’ll go see what’s wrong,” Willow says.
“No, I’ll go.” I’m already wrapping my hands around the lowest branch.
“I’m faster—”
“I’m going.” I swing my body onto the branch and start climbing as fast as I can.
It takes less than three minutes to get to Rachel. It feels like a lifetime. I see her hair first, glowing like fire in the afternoon sun, and it’s like coming home for the first time in weeks. She’s lashed herself to two branches in the uppermost cradle using kudzu. The cloak she’s wearing isn’t hers. Grabbing the branches she tied herself to, I haul myself into the cradle beside her and just stare into her beautiful face.
I want to find the words to tell her what it means to me to see her again—that a hollow space that opened up inside of me when she disappeared is whole again—but I’m suddenly out of words. There aren’t any for what I feel. I lean forward and press my forehead to hers, close my eyes, and just take her in one breath at a time.
