The Dark and Hollow Places - Carrie Ryan [119]
Except this time I can’t choose between them. I don’t have to choose between them.
“I love you,” I say. They look at me, confused. “Both of you.”
“We’ll make it out of this,” my sister says.
I reach out and cup Gabry’s face, feeling her smooth skin under my thumb. “Build a world for me,” I tell her.
And then I jump.
From the air I can hear Gabry shout and I can see Elias throw himself against the other side of the basket to keep it balanced. I’d watched the books fall and I know it’s not that far a drop. I try not to scream because I don’t want to scare my sister, but even so, when I hit the roof and tumble into a roll to break my momentum, I can’t help but cry out.
I pivot to my feet, staring up at the balloon pulling them up and away from me. I tell myself I have to be strong. I’ve survived alone before and I can do it again, but still a penetrating isolation filters through me.
Gabry and Elias lean over the basket and shout down to me frantically and I wave them on. I can only stand and watch as Elias steers them south, other balloons drifting by high overhead.
They look like dandelion seeds on the wind, off to create a new world. To fall in the fields, burrow into the soil to grow and eventually bloom.
I scurry across the roof to my sister’s books, plucking them from the wet snow. Even from where I stand the walls of the building I’m on look old, the bricks crumbling in some places. I can already hear the moans from the streets, plague rats shuffling below, pushing against the structure.
I won’t be safe here long.
Far off in the distance to the south I see a thin plume of smoke. Catcher. My eyes blur thinking about him out there, expecting me to come flying toward him. I know he’ll look for me when he finds out what I did, but I also know I can’t wait for that to happen.
Not if the Recruiters are still crossing the river. It would be stupid of them not to turn back. Crazy.
Except that something moves in the distance—a figure lumbering across a roof several blocks down. I squint, trying to make out who or what it is, hoping it’s just Unconsecrated shuffling after me.
But the figure runs hunched over, weaving around obstacles. Others follow, their black uniforms almost blending in with the dull morning light. I let out a long low breath like a hiss as I watch the Recruiters race for a bridge to the next building, making their way toward me.
Somehow they made it into the City. They’ve found access to the roofs and they’re coming after me.
A frozen wind needles into me. All I have is the small knife in my pocket—no real weapon—which means my only option is to run. Dread fills my blood. I drop my sister’s books and am headed toward the closest bridge when something flutters from the pages.
I plan to ignore it, the need to escape overpowering, except that I recognize the bright yellow banner, the block letters spelling out NEW YORK CITY across a photo of this city as it used to be.
It was the object that gave my father hope when he was lost in the Forest as a child. Something my sister carried with her when she came looking for me. The last remnant of my life from the village.
I can’t leave it and I stoop to pick it up, to slip it into my pocket, when I remember standing on the roof in the Sanctuary with my sister as she tried to locate landmarks in the picture. When she told me about the secret histories of the buildings in the photo—underground rooms with hidden access to the tunnels.
Over my shoulder the Recruiters bear down on me, finding a way through the maze of broken bridges that leads to where I stand. Already I can hear snatches of them shouting for me.
The streets are filled with dead. The bridges will never take me across the island—too many of them have been cut and I’ll always be in sight of the Recruiters. If I want any hope of escaping them, there’s only one option: the subway.
I have to make it to the tunnels.