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He takes a step back, still facing me. “Thank you.”
I’m already focused on the bow I just grabbed. “I’m still mad at you. Hurry up before I change my mind.”
His grin is there one second and gone the next. Then he races up the stairs.
37
“I’m a math teacher. How did I end up in this alternate universe, teaching girls how to host dinner parties and wear lingerie to bed every night for the husbands they didn’t even get to choose?” – Lorraine Wallen, instructor at New America’s Academy of Eve
Amira
I’ve got an arrow nocked when Evander opens the door to the concrete building at the end of the tunnel.
It’s no match for the heavy-duty weapons the Deadmen have, but having my hands on a bow and arrow centers me. Evander has our bags strapped to his back, a machine gun over his shoulder, a revolver in one hand and a massive hunting knife strapped to his thigh.
He checks the surroundings he can see through the cracked door, then steps out for a better look.
“Hold,” he says, his tone clipped.
I’m too worried to crack a joke. There’s a reason the Deadmen are asking about Alice Glass. They have ears everywhere. People who would sell out their own families to avoid Justin’s wrath. I just hope they don’t know where I am, or that we’ll be long gone by the time they get here.
“Clear.”
I lower my bow and leave the building, the gentle brush of my plant connection returning now that I’m out of the underground tunnel. We’re in the woods, and it’s a lot stronger here than it was when I was inside the ILF buildings.
Evander looks at me. “Which way do you want to go?”
I scan the woods, the bare branches making it easier to see through the trees. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“The Deadmen rarely go to the East Coast. If they’re trying to find us, they’ll assume we went east. We shouldn’t go south, because there’s a nuclear exclusion zone that’s not well marked. What do you think about north?”
“Let’s do it.”
“You want to lead?”
I can’t help smiling. “You don’t have to ask me about every decision. You’re better at navigation than I am, so you lead.”
He turns, taking a few steps before stopping and looking at me over his shoulder. “I’m trying to be better.”
“I appreciate it.”
He drops his brow. “No snark?”
I check from side to side again. “I’m too worried for jokes.”
“Let’s get some miles in. It’s supposed to snow north of here, so once we get there our tracks will be easier to cover.”
He checks his compass and sets off. It takes me a long time to stop scanning all sides every thirty feet we walk.
I have aromium. There are branches blowing against each other occasionally, but I’m not picking up on any other sounds. I need to trust myself and my senses. That’s something Marcus used to tell me on the island—that I had good instincts and I should trust them.
It’s hard to forget the terror of being stalked by the Deadmen. When Donovan and I were on the run, they got close to us twice before closing in on us at an outdoor market. One of those times, we hid in the branches of a tree, and I shook with fear the entire time. One sneeze would have ended us.
We cross through a small city and several sprawling residential areas. Windows are broken out of many homes, front doors missing on some. The yards are wildly overgrown, kudzu smothering entire neighborhoods one home at a time.
We keep a steady pace, covering around fifty miles before finding a small lakeside cabin to stop at for the night. Snowflakes are falling in a steady stream, a thin layer coating the ground.
The cabin doesn’t look like much. It’s about twelve feet by twelve feet, with wood-slat flooring, a fireplace, a small table and two chairs, and a neatly made full-size bed with a red-and-black-checked quilt on top.
