Chapter 9
Nine
T en days—that's how long it's been since we left the safe house outside of Morhaven. The food Ms. Angela gave us ran out days ago, forcing us to enter towns we would normally avoid. My knife and Ryland's gun are the only protection we have, so we've improvised weapons for everyone else—a bat with a bunch of nails hammered into it, a tire iron, an ax, and River found a child's crossbow with two arrows. It's primitive, but at least we'll be able to defend ourselves.
The only things that are working in our favor are the six safe houses Ms. Angela marked on our atlas before we left. But they’re far and few between, if they are standing at all. There have been nights when we're unable to find shelter and sleep out in the open as sitting bait for the Afflicted. It's been terrible, but that could all change today.
Ryland squeezes my hand when we reach a wooden road sign hanging sideways on a post. In weathered brown letters, it states General Grasser’s Dome 1/2 miles . We move forward and a lump forms inside my throat. I'm relieved that we've made it this far in one piece and terrified by the idea that we will find nothing here. The only way to subside my twisted nerves is to once and for all answer the question—does the Sanctuary exist?
A cement path weaves through the forest. Pine trees tower above, casting us in their shadows while filling the air with their fresh scent. The tall round structure comes into sight. It's not spectacular, yet I feel a sense of awe. This is what we’ve spent months looking for.
We hike the inclining path that wraps around the thick base, traveling at least fifty feet toward the sky. When we reach the top, my jaw drops in awe. The walkway around the dome gives a 360-degree view of the Fumux Mountain range. It’s beautiful—the tops of thousands of green trees decorate the countless mountain peaks.
I let go of Ryland's hand and round the walkway. It’s tempting to take in the stunning view, but my focus is on one thing—finding one of the Sanctuary's bright flyers. Everyone hangs back as I search, watching my every move. I leave no surface unchecked but return to them empty-handed.
“There's nothing here.” The weight of my words has me on the verge of dropping to my knees and crying. I don’t want to admit that we've come all this way for nothing. It’s a failure I don’t think I can carry.
“Maybe the clue is back at the visitor center at the bottom.” River points back the way we came.
“I'll go with you and check,” Noah offers, extending his hand to her.
“We'll head back and retrace our steps. Maybe there's something we missed,” Aiden says, nodding at Wes.
The four of them walk away, and I give in to the weight of my disappointment. It’s kind of them to want to continue the search. They could have easily given in to their own frustrations. I'm responsible for this wild goose chase, this was my “Plan B” after they gave up a chance to return to their families. None of us have anything to show for it.
I turn to Ryland, hoping he can give me some guidance. His hands are in his pockets as he strides around the dome, taking in every detail. He stops at the walkway leading down and stares at the descending figures of our friends. His head tilts to the side, and his steps become more calculated.
“Quinn, come here,” he says over his shoulder.
I rush to his side.
“Look.” He points to a small number carved into the corner of one of the path's cement slabs.
“They numbered them. Maybe it's to mark the placement because of the incline,” I say.
He shakes his head. “They're not in numerical order. Do you still have the pencil you used to mark the safe houses on the map?”
I dig through my backpack, removing one of the Sanctuary’s flyers and a pencil.
“Write this down. Fourteen, Fifteen. Nine,” Ryland reads the numbers to me as we walk back down the path.
“What do you think it means?” I ask when we reach the bottom.
“Did you ever do those hidden code assignments in school where a number correlates with a letter? Notice that none of the numbers go above twenty-six.”
Without wasting another second, I fall to the ground and find the letters that go with each number. My hands shake, making my writing indistinguishable. I count with my fingers and repeat the alphabet to myself until each number has a letter.
I look up to find everyone standing around me. “I don't get it.”
I lift the paper so they can see what I have written: NOITCERIDGNISSIMEHTDNIF
“Find the missing direction,” Ryland states.
I turn the paper around and stare at it.
Ryland laughs. “We went from the top to the bottom, love. Read it backward.”
I blow out a puff of air and roll my eyes at my oversight. I’m not alone in my confusion. Everyone turns in circles, trying to figure out what the riddle means. We're tired—our brains fried. I don’t think any of us are in the mindset to deal with this. We’re also not ready to claim defeat.
River says, “If the puzzle reads the right way going up the walkway, maybe we need to go back to the top of the dome.”
Everyone disperses and concentrates on every detail—the walls, the pillar in the middle, and the vast mountain ranges—all of it gets special attention to no avail. I give up and sit with my back to the center pillar. The heels of my hands pressed into my eyes, attempting to alleviate the headache creeping up on me.
“The ground is a compass,” Wes calls from the other side of the structure.
I open my eyes and scan the ground across from me. A large decorative “N” has been imprinted into the cement.
“West. It's missing west,” Aiden says.
I jump to my feet and join everyone. They’re gathered around one of the wooden displays that in case a map or the mountain range in the distance. I fall to my knees, looking at the wooden structure for a flyer hidden under it, but nothing's there. Not ready to give up, I examine the map and the descriptions of each of the peaks seen from this vantage point. At first, it all seems normal, until I notice a small inscription at the bottom. I read aloud, “Lightning and blank . Blank and shoulders.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Aiden asks.
“Simplistic. Keep thinking simplistic,” Wes answers from behind me. “Lightning and thunder. Head and shoulders.”
Aiden shakes his head. “And again, I ask what the hell does that mean?”
“Thunder and head,” Noah thoughtfully says.
“Thunderhead Mountain,” I point to the peak on the map. “It's fifteen miles away. We have to hike the Grasser Trail.”
My palms sweat and my heart races. I feel like I can take on the fifteen-mile journey in a matter of minutes. In fact, I'm ready to go right now.
“We only have a couple more hours of daylight, and it's going to take us at least six to get there. We know the visitor center at the base is safe for the night. I say we hold off until dawn,” Noah suggests.
We've accomplished so much in one day. I hate killing our momentum to play it safe. We could be there by midnight, but it's too dangerous. Our group has made it this far because we've been smart about our travels. It would be a shame to come so close and blow it because we got sloppy. We will have to wait until morning to learn if the Sanctuary exists.
Aiden lights a fire in the fireplace inside the visitor center that at one time also acted as living quarters for the park ranger. We sit in a circle on the floor and ration out a can of beans and a bag of stale chips. It's not by any means a fulfilling meal, but it's enough to ease our hunger pains. It also helps to know that this might be our last meal from a can, and we could soon know what it feels like to have full stomachs again.
In its own way, tonight's pathetic feast is a celebration. We laugh and talk about the trials we've been through like they're a thing of the past. We're overwhelmed by the notion that tomorrow is a new beginning and our struggles could be far behind us.
After assigning guard shifts for the night, everyone claims a spot and makes their bed. Ryland and I choose the floor in front of the fireplace, lining it with pillows and blankets we find in a closet. He tucks me into the crook of his arm and holds me close. All the while, thoughts of what tomorrow will bring bombard me. I toss and turn to find the perfect position, but I can't seem to calm down.
“Since you won’t stay still and let me sleep, why don't you tell me what you're thinking?” Ryland says into my hair with a groggy voice.
I lift my head and rest my chin on his chest. “Sorry, I'm a little excited and nervous and worried, but mostly excited,” I say, the jumbled words flowing from me.
“I couldn’t tell.” He smiles and brushes the hair away from my face.
“You're not excited?”
“I just don't want to get my hopes up. Once we're there, I'll let my guard down.”
“Always the realist. But if you were excited, what would it be about?”
The last time Ryland and I talked about the future was right before we reached the Oscuros border, and he believed I'd cross with them. Our plans revolved around simply returning to our families, but now, things are so different.
He runs his fingers up and down my back. “It would be nice to know that the guys had a chance at a semi-normal life, to know you and River are safe, and you can let go of some of the responsibility you feel toward her. It would be amazing to find what our normal is like.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you hope our normal looks like?”
He gives me a lopsided grin and says, “Just simple things like staying up all night talking and laughing about nothing at all, or even sleeping in past noon. Rolling over to find you in my bed wrapped in my sheets and kissing you without having an audience.”
He slips his hand up the back of my shirt and traces lazy circles over my spine, causing goosebumps to cover the exposed skin.
“That's it?” I ask, urging him on.
“You already know what I want to happen after that.” He glances down at me.
“I know, but I want to hear you say it.” I bite my lower lip to stop from smiling like a lovesick teenager.
He pulls me in closer and drops his voice, so Wes won't hear him as he roams through the house. “I want to bury myself deep inside of you right before we fall asleep and wake you up with my mouth on you first thing in the morning. You could cook me breakfast wearing nothing but my shirt from the day before.”
I laugh out loud and cover my mouth with my hand. “Why won't I wake up to find you naked and making me a cup of coffee or serving me breakfast in bed?”
“This is my fantasy. Try to indulge me, Quinn.” He releases a loud puff of air, but there's a sparkle in his eyes.
I hide my smiling face in his chest. “Sorry, sorry. I just thought my idea had potential too.”
Without warning, he rolls me onto my back, pinning me with his body. Using one hand, he traps my wrists above my head and buries his face in my neck. His brown waves fall across my cheek as his lips press against the sensitive skin under my ear. “I knew it. You plan on making me your sex slave,” he says between each kiss.
“Does that mean I get to blindfold and tie you to the bed? Because I hadn't thought of that. It has potential.” I laugh, squirming away from his playful assault.
A pillow crashes into us. “You two need to keep it in your pants. People are trying to sleep,” Aiden says from the couch before turning his back to us.
Ryland and I look at each other and laugh again.
“Sorry, man,” Ryland apologizes. The sincerity of his words is lost to the boyish grin on his face.
“Don't let him fool you, Quinn. He loves the idea of you having your way with him and then waking up to cook you breakfast in the morning,” Aiden adds, pulling his blanket over his head.
I look at Ryland with wide eyes and wiggle my eyebrows at him. “I knew it.”
Ryland shakes his head, rolls off me, and encircles me in his arms. “I never said I wouldn't like it,” he whispers.
As we lay together, I'm flooded with the pictures of all the things we spoke about. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want a normal life with him. It’s funny how my priorities have changed. Less than a year ago, the only thing I wanted was to reunite my family. I was too scared to wish for anything beyond that. Ryland has made me dream of so much more.