Escape to Eden (5 page)

“You’re being paranoid, Anthony. I’m going in.” She opens the door and closes it behind her without waiting for a response.

Anthony sighs but follows after. He opens my door and startles at the sight of me. “Are you okay?”

I jump from the car and take a deep breath. Air fills my lungs, pushing away the smothering blackness. “I’m okay. Just nervous.”

“Don’t worry. Just keep your head down and stay close.”

The alley is quiet, but as soon as Jenna opens a side door into the silver building next to us, I’m accosted by loud music—a beat
that matches my heart rate. I inch closer to Jenna until I run into her.

She shrugs me off. “Personal space here, Patch. What’s your problem?” She walks though the door, her eyebrows drawn together.

Anthony shakes his head. “Don’t worry about Jenna. She’s been through a lot, and it’s made her rather cold toward others. I know that shouldn’t be an excuse, but believe me, she’s better than most.”

The inside of the Rapture is dark, occasionally lit up by flashing lights. It’s a big space with high ceilings. Tables line the walls, each one holding a single candle with a very realistic flame. Jenna nudges me and points up. I follow the direction and flinch when flames suddenly engulf the ceiling. Jenna laughs, and I realize these flames are fake too, a special kind of hologram. They flicker and jump like real fire, but when I walk beneath them there’s no heat. Then they disappear as if extinguished only to return moments later.

Anthony finds what is probably the only empty table in the whole place pressed against a shiny steel-looking wall. It’s black and narrow with two square, metal stools on each side. “You girls wait here. I need to find Bram.”

“I want to go too,” Jenna says. She’s on her tiptoes, trying to look over the heads of the nearby crowd as if searching for someone she might know.

“No. I don’t know if he will be alone. You need to stay and watch . . .” He looks at me and hesitates as if he’s not sure what to call me. Finally, he says, “Patch.”

He disappears into a dark tunnel to my right before Jenna can argue, but as she drops onto the stool, she says, “I’m not a bloody babysitter.”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” I say, growing tired of her attitude.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. We’re going to have to watch you like we would a baby. And wipe your nose and change your diapers. Poor, poor Patch.”

Heat rushes to my face. I’ve never been spoken to that rudely.
I don’t think so anyway, but if I have, I’m pretty sure I didn’t take it.

I lean over the table and say, “I mean it. I don’t need you. I escaped from the Institute without you holding my baby hand, didn’t I?”

Jenna smirks. “Look who suddenly has a backbone? And you’re right. I didn’t hold your hand, nor would I ever want to. I’m out.” She stands and says over her shoulder, “Wait here.”

I stare after her, wishing my glare would burn a hole in her back. She disappears into the swarms of people, bouncing up and down like she plans on having the time of her life. I lean back against the cold steel wall and cross my arms to my chest. Periodically a flash of light shines into the crowd, and I think I catch sight of the back of Jenna’s blonde hair.

I pull my hat further down over my forehead to shade my eyes and survey the people in the room, specifically looking at their eyes. Most of them glow a bright maple color, but others flash a bright green, yellow, and even purple. I’m instantly afraid of the ones who don’t flash gold, but I’m not sure why. I slide my hands into the sleeves of the black shirt, and hunch lower into the seat, wishing I could melt into the hard metal.

All of a sudden I shiver, the kind of shiver that makes me know I’m being watched. I look around to find the reason for the hair on my arms standing to attention. Across the room is the tall, dark outline of a man. Lights flash over him, illuminating electric blue eyes, making me think of lightning. I feel the power in them as strong as thunder. He sees me watching him and moves forward.

Straight for me.

H
e moves slowly, deliberately.

I search the crowd, my fingernails digging into the bottom of the chair, but it’s metal and doesn’t give. Jenna and Anthony are nowhere to be seen. I look back at the approaching man, hoping an instinct will kick in as to what I should do. Nothing comes. Maybe he’s harmless, I hope. But the way he’s moving through the crowd, not touching anyone, slipping through them like a ghost, makes me doubtful.

I stand up, contemplating my options. Follow Jenna into a crowd of dangerous people or after Anthony into a black tunnel? Despite my earlier aversion to being in a dark space in the car, I decide to follow Anthony.

I move to take a step, but the man is suddenly upon me, his hands on my shoulders, pressing me to the wall. The stool is in my way, making my feet slip, but I don’t fall because he’s too strong. I stare at the ground, afraid to let him see my eyes.

He takes hold of my chin with a cold and firm grip. “Look at me,” he says.

When I begin to struggle he presses harder on my shoulders until I cry out in pain.

“Look at me or you’ll regret it.” His voice holds a threatening note all the way to his fingertips.

Because nothing comes to me as to what I should do next, I do what any sane, life-wanting person would do: obey. I stop struggling and slowly meet his gaze. His incandescent blue eyes hold even more power this close, and a shiver shakes my whole body, but he doesn’t notice.

“Your eyes,” he says, frowning. “Are you an Original?”

I don’t answer. I’m too afraid of being sent back to the Institute.

He glances all around us while still maintaining his tight grip. “Who sent you? Is this a test? Answer me!”

I gasp when the pressure on my shoulders becomes too great. “You’re hurting me!”

He searches my eyes, his dark eyebrows drawn together. The rest of his face is shadowed from the lights above, or maybe that’s just what he is—an extension of the darkness, some abnormality that shouldn’t exist.

His grip lightens, but he still holds me against the wall. “Why are you here?”

I try to look beyond him, hoping to see Anthony or Jenna, but he is blocking my view of anything else. A thought comes to me, not so much an instinct, but more common sense. He is a man after all.

I bring my knee up between his legs hard. His steel blue eyes widen, and he falls to the floor moaning. I scramble around him and dive into the crowd of moving bodies that’s like a turbulent river, twisting and swirling. I spin around until I’m spit out the other side, next to a bar lit up by the same illusion of fire that’s on the ceiling.

The music is louder here, and it vibrates my insides. Someone grabs my arm. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking it’s Jenna by the smaller grip, but when I turn around there’s a girl with black, spiked hair. I think it’s spiked anyway, but as I look closer I notice that the four-inch spikes are actually horns lining the center of her head all the way down to the back of her neck. Her eyes shine nothing, only blackness, and this lone fact, not the spikes on her head, terrifies me to the bone.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” she says and is about to let go of my arm, but at the last second she sees my face. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

I stutter as I try to think of something to say.

She frowns and her eyes turn darker, if that’s possible. “I think someone’s looking for you.”

“She’s with me,” a voice says from behind. The voice is loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

I spin around, almost running into the man who had me pinned to the wall moments ago. He’s standing beneath a glowing light now, revealing that he’s just a regular man, or really a boy. He looks only a little older than me, with hair as black as the shadows he just came from. He’s tall and wearing a long, dark leather trench coat that fits him snugly across his wide shoulders. Like everyone else, his skin is flawless, but I do discover a flaw amongst his perfectly broad chin and high cheekbones. His nose. It’s crooked. I find it oddly comforting to find fault in a world that seems so perfect.

“How can she be with you?” The horned girl says, sneering. “You’re never with anyone. And what’s with her eyes?”

“She’s tripping on something. Addict.” The muscles on the side of his face bulge, exposing a dark vein running the length of his neck. He looks ready for a fight.

I remain quiet, not sure how to react. My instincts, however, know to stay away from the girl with the horns.

“Let’s go,” he says and faces me the other direction. To the other girl, he says, “See you around, Spit.”

I don’t look back and let the boy push me back into the waves of people. I keep my eyes down. I can’t forget that I don’t belong here.

When we reach a break in the crowd, I spin around and say, “I have to go back to the table.”

He shakes his head and continues to push me across the room and to the entrance of a long hallway. He’s strong, stronger than a normal man. I sense it in the way his arm is nudging me forward, gentle like he’s afraid I’ll break in two if he’s not careful. I bet if he wanted he could toss me to the other side of the room. I have to find Anthony.

“Stop, please!” I say again.

He cuts in front of me so fast that I stumble back. “It’s not safe here for someone like you, don’t you understand? What are you even doing here?”

His features have softened, but there’s still a sharp edge. The
kind only deep pain creates. I wonder if I have the same expression on my face because I feel pain inside me too, but don’t know what’s created it.

He sees my hesitation and possibly my fear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not like them.” He motions to the crowd over my shoulder.

“Then what are you?” Words are all I have to go by with this boy. I’m hoping I’ll be able to discern the truth.

He frowns, like he’s not sure how to answer the question. “I’m just me,” he says. “I don’t belong in this world. Neither do they. But you”—he swallows, his Adam’s apple going up and down— “you belong.”

But I don’t belong, I want to say. Not even close. Instead I blurt, “I escaped from the Institute. A man named Anthony brought me here so he could talk to someone named Bram.”

The boy stiffens and clenches his jaw. “Come on,” he says. He guides me into the same dark hallway Anthony disappeared into moments ago. It smells like sweat and fresh paint, and the air is sticky like it’s been sitting too long with nowhere to go.

The boy stops at a door and swings it open wide without knocking. “Did you lose something?”

Anthony turns around. His eyes go from me to the boy.

“How could you leave her alone out there?” the boy asks.

“Calm down, Colt,” Anthony says. “She wasn’t alone. Jenna’s with her.”

Colt looks around sarcastically. “Do you see her anywhere?”

“Where’s Jenna?” Anthony asks me.

“She had to go do something, but I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Colt scowls. “It’s not fine. Spit saw her.”

Anthony’s eyebrows lift, and he looks at a man who is sitting behind a desk. “Bram?”

Bram, who looks a little younger than Anthony, rises. He’s not tall, but he’s well built and has eyes a soft caramel color. He circles around his desk and comes toward me. I back up.

“Don’t worry, girl. I mean you no harm.” He grips my chin lightly and stares into my eyes. “Remarkable.” He lets go and steps
back. “You must protect her no matter what happens. It’s up to you. I can’t help. I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? That’s why I came here!” Anthony says.

Bram shakes his head. “The Institute is watching my every move, even at my house. She’s not safe with me.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Leave. Right away. If Spit’s seen her, then others may be on their way.” He goes to his desk and scribbles on a piece of paper. “Go to this address. You’ll be safe there for a short time.”

He tears the paper in half and writes something else on the bottom portion. “And here’s the code to get in. You keep one and give the other to Jenna. I’ll contact you soon with where to go next and how we can get her to Eden.”

My head snaps up. “Eden?”

Something about the name sparks a fleeting memory. I struggle to hang on to it, and then, just like that, it’s gone.

Bram gives the papers to Anthony who, in turn, gives one to Colt instead of waiting for Jenna.

Colt raises his hands, refusing to take it. “Whoa! I can’t take that. I’m staying out of this.”

Anthony says, “Colt, I need your help. She needs you.”

“Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

“No, we don’t. You brought her here. You could’ve just as easily taken her to the Institute and received a huge reward.”

Colt steps toward the door. “I can’t just pack up and go.”

“Why not? What’s holding you here?” Anthony asks.

The room is quiet yet loud at the same time. I don’t know what to think. Colt had felt so threatening before. Had he really been trying to help me?

Bram sits down. “Why would you trust him, Anthony?”

Colt glares at him. “I can be trusted.”

“Then prove it,” Anthony says. The room goes from heavy to aggressive.