“See, now we’re getting somewhere. God, Heaven and divine retribution – that’s all Colony talk.”
“No, it’s Crenshaw. Except he called it Elysium.”
She blinks and I nearly pass out. His name means something to her.
“Crenshaw is the one who told us about you originally,” I continue, hoping to hit home again with his name. “He said we never should ask The Hive for anything. That they were liars and traitors and he was right. I should have listened to him. He showed us a map, told us he helped you plant a garden here and that he had an open invitation to join whenever he wanted but he won’t because he’s waiting.”
Ali takes a deep breath. Her fingers flex slightly on the handle of the gun.
“What is he waiting for?” she asks, her tone giving nothing away.
“His daughter,” Ryan says softly. “The Hive has his daughter and he’ll never leave her.”
Her eyes dart from me to Ryan, to Trent and back again. Finally, she lowers the gun.
“What’s your name?” she asks me.
“Joss.”
She shakes her head minutely. “No, what’s your name?”
I frown, suddenly unsure. “Jocelyn.”
Whatever softness was building in her leaks away. The gun is back in my face in an instant.
“Wrong answer.”
Gun = clarity.
“Athena!” I cry, finally understanding. “He calls me Athena. He said Joss was too mousy for—“
“A warrior like you,” Ali finishes for me, the gun lowering again.
I nod quickly, though it’s more like shaking. I gesture to Ryan. “That’s Helios.”
Ali looks to Trent who shrugs, unconcerned.
“We’re not that close,” he admits.
Ali stares at each of us in turn. No one else moves. We stand statue still, all very aware of the gun hanging heavy and dark at her side. She stares at me the longest, her face blank. Then suddenly she nods curtly as though coming to an agreement with me, an agreement I know nothing about.
“Sam,” she says, turning to face him, her entire demeanor changing. She suddenly seems tired. Her movements are slower. Sluggish. “Let them out. I’m not the only one who will be coming for them, I just got here first. Once they’re out, take them to their boat at the old pier. It’s tied up there.”
“You’re letting us leave?” Ryan asks hopefully. “Alive?”
Ali looks at him, a sad smile on her lips. “Any friend of Crenshaw’s…”
She turns to leave as Sam is unlocking our door. Maybe it’s foolish, maybe it’s tempting fate, but I call out to her.
“Thank you.”
She pauses in the doorway, her face cut in half by the light in the room and the shadow beyond it.
“Don’t thank me yet. I doubt you’ll make it past the buoys.”
“What’s the deal with the buoys?” Ryan asks.
She ignores him. Her eyes are fastened on mine.
“If you see Crenshaw again,” she says, her voice soft and affectionate, “tell him Persephone sends her love.”
Chapter Seventeen
When she’s gone, Sam swings the door to the cage open. Not waiting for us to get out, he runs across the room to a large cabinet and unlocks it quickly. Inside are our weapons. When I take hold of my ASP in my shaking hand, my brain and body still coming down from the gun in my face, I feel better. Less like wetting myself and more like kicking a little ass. Crushing skulls and forgetting names.
“We’ll go out the back way,” Sam says, checking to see if the hall is clear.
It sounds like most of the people have moved outside. There’s the sound of shouting wafting in through the door that’s been left open and I can see lights scattering around the huge front lawn. There are vehicles, flashlights and torches but mostly there’s bodies. Lots and lots of moving, running, frantic bodies, none of which I want to come in contact with right now.
When the house is silent he runs us out of the library, down a long corridor that leads to the kitchen and out the back door. When we hit the backyard, I’m momentarily floored by the fact that there’s a swing set with a slide and sandbox out here. The little girl with the eyes and the doll must live here permanently. I can see her here, laughing and running with her dad nearby, her mom in the kitchen. Both of them with a gun on their hip and a knife in their shoe.
Sam sprints us over the dark lawn toward the back of the property. There are other people out here running around, but they’re farther down on the other side of the house. No one pays us any mind. Eventually we reach bushes that we dive straight into. The branches claw at our clothes trying to hold us back. I hear a rip as I run through them and I know yet another coat of mine is torn. I’m suddenly wishing I’d paid more attention in sewing class.
“Over here,” Sam calls quietly.
I don’t know why he’s bothering with stealth. The world has gone insane around us. People are shouting, horns are blaring, lights flash in every direction.
He leads us up to the fence, then without looking back to see if we’re following, climbs it like a crazed monkey. He’s up and over in only a few seconds, taking any thoughts I may have had about these people possibly going soft right over with him. I glance at the boys, feeling like it was a challenge. One I’m not sure we can rise to but I’m sure as hell gonna try.
I take a couple of steps back, then launch myself at the fence. I tune it all out – the noises, the fear, the stress of the moment, all of it. I focus only on getting over the fence and to the other side without tearing my clothes any more than I already have and without landing on my face on the other side. I’m grinning ear to ear when I land firmly on my feet beside Sam, the water from the Sound lapping gently on the shore not far behind us.
Ryan and Trent clear the fence, though I’m pleased to see Trent struggle a little bit. Mr. Roboto isn’t perfectly agile. It’s good to know.
Once we’re all together again, Sam runs us to the west along the shore. It’s not long before I spot it – our ill-fated, ill painted Hive boat. I wish they’d burned it. I’m with Ryan on this one; Marlow isn’t getting that thing back in one piece.
“There it is,” Sam breathes, halting not far from the pier. “Take it and go. Get clear of the buoys as quick as you can, but steer clear of the Colony ships too.”
“What the hell are the buoys for?” Ryan asks, sounding annoyed that he’s yet to get an answer on that question.
Then he gets one. Just as I’m pointing to the boats cutting through the water and closing in fast, the night explodes in light and sound. It comes from behind us inside the island, then it cuts across the sky like a comet ripping through the night. It’s huge, angry and it’s on fire. It lands near one of the boats, missing it by mere feet. Then another one launches not far behind it. This one arcs a little higher, crossing the water a little bit farther and then it connects solidly with the Colony boat. The boat erupts in flames. I hear screams coming across the water that’s growing choppier by the minute. They won’t put it out. Whatever that ball was made of, it exploded and it carried flames with every inch of it. The boat is now a floating funeral pyre.
“That’s what they’re for,” Sam tells him. “Now go and stay away—“
“From the buoys, yeah. Got it,” Ryan agrees. He puts out his hand to Sam who takes it and pulls him into a quick hug, both of them slapping the other on the back twice hard. “Thanks, man. Take care.”
“Yeah, you too. Good luck out there.”