The Gift

Chapter 84

Whit

Now that Garfunkel's has been seriously breached, we need to move to a new protected location, but no one's sure exactly where. Janine, Sasha, Emmet, Wisty, and I debate the options as we hike through the tunnel underneath the once-famous department store that used to sponsor football games and the holiday parade.

"Within hours Freeland is going to be blanketed with bombs or totally teeming with New Order patrols. Or both." I recount the details of what Byron had told me and Wisty at the factory. "We're going to have to go back across the border into New Order territory. Maybe just lie low and wait it out."

"But where?" Janine asks. "We've been living out of Garfunkel's for so long we don't really know what's going on out there. That's the problem with getting too comfortable."

"How about the Stockwood reservoir?" Sasha suggests.

"Too risky," I say. "The Bionics know about it, and we know they were working for The One." I glance at Wisty's pained face. "Most of them anyway."

"How about the abandoned Electio factory, Whit?" Janine says.

"Breached by the enemy," Sasha replies.

Wisty suggests the City of Progress. "They won't bomb there, and maybe Mrs. Highsmith can help with the sick and wounded."

After some discussion, we decide that's the best plan we have. We'll try to do a group transformation when we get closer-to disguise ourselves as a rally, or a parade of Sector Leader's Stars of Honor. The old tunnels don't run all the way there, though, so we're faced with having to do the last piece of the journey aboveground and without a vehicle.

"Maybe there's a portal that will get us there," I suggest.

"Right. Let's go hang out in the Shadowland," scoffs Wisty. "They're always rolling out the red carpet for us. Especially when they're hungry."

"We're all exhausted," Janine says. "We've been walking for hours, and a lot of us haven't slept in at least a day. Let's get a few hours' rest before we make our break into the open."

And that's right about when the bombing begins. And it's the worst ever.

With the tunnel shaking like a jackhammer, and without our knowing whether or not this tube is strong enough to withstand the blasts, no one is getting much rest-let alone sleep. Instead we huddle together quietly and tightly-not for warmth but for safety.

Janine and I, leaning our backs against the wall, rest together. Wisty has her head in Emmet's lap. Sasha is cradling his guitar. The rest of the kids are in a tangle around us.

We're just waiting here to die, aren't we?