Chapter 82
Atlas
When Callum’s dead, I feel the worst has passed.
Everywhere I look, Barclay soldiers are being detained by Leeanne’s crew—the remaining Angelics after we lost so many.
They free the detainees from the black vans; men, women, and children pour out, screaming and crying and watching in horror as the world around them burns.
I see a bleak future, but a future where the Angelics persist no matter how much we lost today.
No sign of Angela, though it is only a matter of time before she perishes with the rest, if she hasn’t already.
God, I hope she suffers.
Conin carries Ezra’s unconscious body in his arms and watches the landscape for signs of help.
Callum is crushed into a bloody pulp by our feet—mangled flesh macerated underneath the weight of armor that betrayed its wearer.
Ambrosia stands, looking off into the horizon.
She shakes her head and groans. After breaking from her transfixed state, she limps our way and assesses Ezra.
“What happened? Is he—”
“No,” Conin blurts out. “He’s still with us, but just barely. Thax . . . Ezra’s brother . . . he detracted his armor, choked him. He inhaled too much smoke.”
Ambrosia doesn’t ask about Ezra’s brother or why he was here, but it is closure I hope to get one day. Instead, she nods and starts ambling toward the clump of Angelics that’s formed near the destroyed gate.
“I’ll find a healer,” she calls back.
Conin is dormant where he stands, Ezra limp in his arms. I round to face him, carefully glance at Ezra, who’s raspy breathing indicates he is struggling to stay alive, and then look through Conin’s visor. Tears fall helplessly off his cheeks. They break my heart.
“Do you need to rest, love?” I say gently.
We were shot at. We could’ve died. Fire blazes around us. Ezra grapples for dear life. We need a fucking break. A rest to last for eternity.
“I—he needs help. Let’s move,” he strains to say through the tears.
“Okay,” I say. “Come here.”
I lead the way. We traverse through gravel, onto the road, through the abandoned parking lot, toward Proctus’s gates.
My fear increases the closer we get, scared shitless over what will happen now.
We can’t stay here. Everyone will know where the Angelics were hiding, and with most of the town burned to utter devastation, the land uninhabitable, the only way is to resettle somewhere far from here.
Thoughts of ma and pa hit me like a sucker punch, brought to the forefront of my mind over the uncertainty of our future.
What will happen to them? Will I be able to see them again?
I look around as we approach the cluster of Angelics grouped near the gate and I know that many of these people are thinking the same exact thing—have the same exact worries.
It makes me feel no less tormented over the idea.
It’s too much suffering for me to feel that any scrap of good can come from this.
In some terrible, deplorable way I don’t believe it possible we can return to the way things once were.
“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Conin says unmistakably under his breath.
Ambrosia is in active conversation with one of Leeanne’s team. At our steady approach, they glance our direction.
“I do,” I say without doubt. “He’ll come back to us, Conin.”
Ezra will.
If today has proven anything, it’s that he will. He’s strong. He’s a fighter. We’ll make it through this together.
Nine blissful months with these two. I want nine more, and all the years to pile on afterward.
I want a future with these two, whatever future we can make from the ashes.
Wherever Conin and Ezra go, I’ll follow.
I’d follow them to the edge of the world.
And perhaps I already have. I cling to our tether, holding it close.
The area here has been doused with water.
The remaining Angelic Guard move in and squander what they can from the wreckage.
Meanwhile, Leeanne’s crew herd in the survivors.
I hear something about them moving to the tunnels to rescue those alive.
I hear nothing about where we’ll go and what will happen now that we have no place to call home.
Because that’s what Proctus has become: a home against all odds.
A part of me grieves leaving Proctus behind.
In some small way, abu's work was an extension of the good the Angelics did and still do. Our goal was to aid people like us to the finish line and send them to a safe haven where they could live hopefully happy, fulfilling lives. With Proctus decimated, it feels as if all ties have been cut from abu. I have nothing but his memory now. But keeping his legacy alive is what fuels me amongst all this loss and defeat. It’s what I’ll hold on to as we continue forward.
When we settle and when Ezra is okay, I know what I’ll do. Leeanne and I are going to have a very, very long conversation. But I’m ready. I tell myself this as Ambrosia introduces us to the healer. I tell myself this when we hop into the van and the work to keep Ezra alive begins.
The MacPherson legacy will continue.