Chapter 22
Lucy stares down at me. It’s her. It must be.
I’ve never been one to disbelieve my own senses, but I use the silence to be sure.
She lets go of my hand and I lose my balance, palms slapping against the tile.
In front of me are two boots, gleaming black in the light from behind me.
Slowly I look upward and take in all of her.
Black pants tucked into black boots, a black shirt cinched with a black belt. A shadow in shadows.
“Taylor.”
My name from her lips is the chiming of bells.
It is the horns of heaven. It’s some other literary cliché.
It’s all of them, maybe. It bids me to look upward but I cannot.
If this is a dream, her eyes will break the fantasy.
Her eyes never have the right complexity, depth, and warmth in my dreams and nightmares.
“Stand up.”
I’m not capable on my own, so she bends down and helps lift me from under the arm. It’s dizzying to be in her presence again. I gaze into her eyes and instantly it becomes real. Those gorgeous eyes that have seen me and loved me, they look at me in disbelief and excitement.
“Lucy.”
She coughs—almost a sob, almost a laugh. “I thought I’d never hear you call me by my name again.”
“What else would I call you?”
“Oh, shut up.” Hesitantly, she licks her lips. Arms open, her head tilts to the side. “May I?”
She remembers. I practically launch myself at her and squeeze around her middle.
Lucy envelops my shoulders in her arms and rests her head in my hair.
It’s as if, until now, I drifted like a puff of pollen, directed about by the winds.
She smells like fabric softener and sweat, like your pillow at home after being away for too long.
“You were dead.” My words are muffled in her shirt. “You were dead.”
“Yeah,” she replies wetly. “I know.”
“God, I’ve missed you so much. How…” I cradle her face in my hands in the gentle, reverent way one handles precious things. “How are you real? Please, tell me you’re real. I’m not sure I can bear another one of these nightmares…”
“I’m real,” she whispers, and reaches up to hold my wrists.
She turns and kisses the palm of my hand before leaning down to press her forehead against mine.
How I would have given anything and everything, moved every star in the heavens, fought every battle Theia could dream of, if only to have a fraction of this time with her.
She kisses me once, firmly and desperately, until a tiny sob breaks our lips. I place my ear against her chest to hear the comforting thump. Every thump I hear the word “alive.” She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive.
“Mason and Private Frank—I have to get them.”
Lucy hums, and gently pulls away from me to meet my eyes. “They’re both fine, I promise.”
“How do you know?”
With a sigh, she runs her fingers through her cropped red hair.
One side is shaved, exposing a scar across the side of her head, from her temple to above her ear.
Her hair is shorter as well, barely reaching below her chin.
No longer dark brown, but her natural, beautiful red. “It’s a long story. Come with me?”
“Of course.” I slip my hand into hers. “I am afraid you are never going to take another step in this life without me by your side.”
She appears visibly overcome with emotion, then captures me in a searing kiss.
My back ends up pressed against a locker, but I’m grateful for the stability as my knees weaken at the taste of her on my tongue.
It is a rather frantic kiss, but neither of us seem to be able to get our fill of each other.
I know I never will. Her body leans into mine, all heat and soft flesh and the pressure of desire.
The noise of scuffling boots breaks us apart and Lucy exhales sharply, out of breath.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Down the darkened hallway, she leads us to a door which opens into an anemically lit stairwell with concrete steps and handrails coated in chipped red paint.
The pistol I procured from the soldier sticks out of the back of Lucy’s pants, next to a radio which she grabs as we descend the stairwell. “Fin, check on Hanson in room three.”
Static crackles and echoes around us. “The fuck did Kyle do now?”
“Our prisoner knocked him out and took his weapon. She’s in my custody.”
“I bet.” I recognize the voice as Captain Finley’s. She chuckles. “All right, I’ll grab Hanson. How about the little one? Well, the littler one?”
“Let her rest. According to the medic, she’ll be able to walk tomorrow, but probably on crutches. Mason stays in custody. Make sure he gets meals and let him know the girls are okay. You can tell him I said that. He…may have a few questions.”
“About you rising from the ashes like a freakishly tall phoenix?”
“Hilarious. We’ll have a meeting in the morning with everyone.”
Even over the staticky walkie-talkie, one can practically hear Captain Finley’s smirk. “Oh? Planning on a busy night there, Piccolo?”
Lucy pushes open a mechanical door out into the open air. “Shut up, Fin.”
Our location isn’t immediately recognizable.
In the sky I spot a few constellations but that’s only so good as to general latitude and longitude.
The nearby flora would indicate we are not far from where the train derailed.
Same types of trees and grass. Looking back, the building looms tall behind us.
It was a school, or maybe a former college.
Several stories high, with beige and brown brickwork holding up a rather classical design.
The roof is adorned with gold statuettes, one at each corner, as well as armed soldiers with long sniper rifles.
Lucy shuts off her radio and clips it back to her pants.
Her general physique is mostly unchanged since I last saw her, but she has gained lean muscle in her arms and chest. Not quite the soft goddess I swung around a dance floor.
Ultimately, it makes no difference. She still looks like the beginning and end of the world.
We walk about a mile outside of the school-slash-holding-center until a semicircle of trailers appears in view, evidently our destination.
Grass is brutally shorn to the roots, revealing thick brown mud and dirt upon which five trailers sit.
Outside each is some sort of oversized three-wheeled vehicle with off-road tires.
“Home sweet home,” Lucy says, and leads me to the trailer second in from the right.
It is neither homey nor sweet. She takes a key ring from her pocket and unlocks the screen door, then the dead bolt and doorknob of the second door.
Not quite high-tech security, but you can’t go wrong with the trusty lock and key.
I mean, I could break in here, but most could not. Also, why would they?
The inside is more spacious than it appears from outside.
We walk into a small kitchen: a sink, stovetop, miniature refrigerator, and a microwave.
To the right, wooden cabinets of varying size, a washer and dryer tucked into the wall, and a single door.
To the left is an eating area, a couch, and on the far side, another door.
Lucy gestures for me to sit, and I rest my backside on the edge of the table as she leans against the sink.
“Do you live here?”
“How the mighty have fallen, eh?” Lucy chuckles softly. “No, I’ve only been here a week, and they were kind enough to put me up in this trailer. It is efficient, I’ll say that.”
I nod. “To be honest, this looks like a place I would like to live. No frills.”
She smiles. It looks pained. “That’s what I thought too.
” The silence between us is awkward. It hasn’t been awkward in a long time, but there are so many elephants in the room I’m surprised we even fit in the trailer.
“I know you appreciate brevity, so I will do my best to catch you up. I woke up in Derek’s apartment a few days after the airport, stitched up and feeling like a bear ate my head.
Clearly, he’d gotten someone to patch me up. I…I don’t know how I survived.”
“She spared you.” If my brain could get past the glory of Lucy being alive, maybe I could figure out why. “Hunter would never, ever miss a shot that close.”
Lucy frowns but nods along. “I guess you haven’t heard from her?”
“No.”
“Right. Well, Derek said you were the one who sent him to the airport. I didn’t even know he was Order.”
That was an uncomfortable conversation. Not for him—he was amiable and desperate to help Lucy.
It was uncomfortable for me because I am unaccustomed to jealousy.
“Hunter recruited him. We taught him to fly and got him the interview with your father. When I organized your escape flight, I ordered him to wait as backup in case something went wrong.”
Lucy turns pensive. “I asked him and I think he told me the truth, but I’d like to hear it from you. Dating me…that wasn’t part of his cover, was it?”
“Absolutely not.” I balk. “I would have explicitly forbidden it, but I never considered he would have the audacity. It was completely unprofessional. He could’ve compromised the Order.”
Lucy snorts. “Got any more stones to throw in your glass house?”
“I was trying to save your life, not sleep with you.”
Lucy raises her eyebrows and leans her palms on the counter.
“Sure. Anyway, I wanted to find you, but Derek hadn’t heard anything about you on official comms or word on the street.
He thought…He told me you were probably dead.
” Unable to hold my gaze, she looks at the linoleum.
“I, um, was in a pretty bad way after that, and Derek got worried and contacted Delilah. She confirmed you were alive but that she didn’t know where you were, and asked me to come to Detroit.
I did, because I remembered you telling me that if everything went south, I would be safe with her. ”
I nod. “Good.”