outside, and believe me winter is fucking cold.”
There were still questions in her, but she didn’t find it
odd that her hands wanted to obey him. Her hands wanted to pull on the trousers
he offered her, and the half-woolen, half-something else sweater he rooted out,
and then finally the jacket.
“What’s going on? Have they—”
“There’s going to be a breach. Very soon. A big one.”
She watched him check the torch she had in there, though she
couldn’t imagine why he’d need one. He could see in the dark, couldn’t he?
But then she realized. Oh yeah, then she realized all right. He could see in the dark. But she couldn’t. And if anything
should happen to him while they were making a run for it, what then?
She’d be lost and alone in the pitch black world above, with
no light and no weapon—or at least, she had no weapon in her imagination, until
he told her to strap the machete over her back.
“Do you have anything else? Guns, arrows—anything?”
She didn’t know what was more disturbing—that she was
shaking, or that he was too.
“They don’t give us anything like that, Conn. Only the
gunners have them. But just wait a second, okay, just wait.” She took a deep
breath, while he tried to fit himself into the biggest item of clothing in her
cupboard—a jersey made out of three other jerseys, all of them with the
remnants of weird words all over them. Things like Harvard and University and
State. “Are you absolutely positive this is what’s happening? You’ve never
sensed a breach before—have you? God, I don’t know if you have or—”
“No, I haven’t.” He swallowed thickly. “But this one’s
different. Okay? This one’s different. It’s over. All of this—it’s over. It’s
like a wall coming this way, too heavy and dark to stand, just too much…”
It was to his credit, she felt, that he sounded remorseful
about it. And the pain on his face looked so real and inescapable too, as
though he had hold of her shoulders and was whispering in her ear, Even
after everything they’ve done to me, I don’t want things to end this way for
them .
She loved him. God, she loved him.
“Then let’s go. Go on. I’m with you.”
Those words seemed to help him at least. He took her hand
when she offered it and a great blurt of feeling went through her—stupidly, of
course. Because really, who got so mushy over the first time they’d ever
properly held hands, when wolves were probably about to burst through the
ceiling and kill everyone?
But she felt it anyway. And she squeezed him tight, so
tight. And when he told her to stay close and then leaned down to kiss her, she
kissed him back.
Though when the door opened in a great rush to reveal Tara
and Commissioner Reddick, she kind of wished she hadn’t. The hand holding and
the fact that he was in her room was bad enough on its own.
The kiss was just overkill, really.
* * * * *
The weirdest thing about the whole terrible mess was the
fact that they let them continue to hold hands, all the way down the north
corridor to the incinerator. Somehow, in all her imaginings about being burned
alive and having to watch them cut Connor’s arms and legs off and so and so
forth, she’d thought they’d keep them strictly apart.
No final goodbyes. No touching of any kind. No
acknowledgement of them as people with feelings.
Though the spitting almost made up for the lack of enforced
separation. And the jabbing too, the jabbing was awesome. If that guy in the
mask behind her shoved his gun between her shoulder blades one more time, she
was going to snarl at him.
Never mind Connor. Who currently had the lock on sudden
wild, unrestrained teeth baring at very nervous-looking human beings.
Which was just another thing wrong with this familiar
scenario. She realized she’d expected them to be mean-faced and full of all the
power in the world, but even Tara seemed wary of them both. And when a gunner
jabbed and Connor snarled at him over
There were still questions in her, but she didn’t find it
odd that her hands wanted to obey him. Her hands wanted to pull on the trousers
he offered her, and the half-woolen, half-something else sweater he rooted out,
and then finally the jacket.
“What’s going on? Have they—”
“There’s going to be a breach. Very soon. A big one.”
She watched him check the torch she had in there, though she
couldn’t imagine why he’d need one. He could see in the dark, couldn’t he?
But then she realized. Oh yeah, then she realized all right. He could see in the dark. But she couldn’t. And if anything
should happen to him while they were making a run for it, what then?
She’d be lost and alone in the pitch black world above, with
no light and no weapon—or at least, she had no weapon in her imagination, until
he told her to strap the machete over her back.
“Do you have anything else? Guns, arrows—anything?”
She didn’t know what was more disturbing—that she was
shaking, or that he was too.
“They don’t give us anything like that, Conn. Only the
gunners have them. But just wait a second, okay, just wait.” She took a deep
breath, while he tried to fit himself into the biggest item of clothing in her
cupboard—a jersey made out of three other jerseys, all of them with the
remnants of weird words all over them. Things like Harvard and University and
State. “Are you absolutely positive this is what’s happening? You’ve never
sensed a breach before—have you? God, I don’t know if you have or—”
“No, I haven’t.” He swallowed thickly. “But this one’s
different. Okay? This one’s different. It’s over. All of this—it’s over. It’s
like a wall coming this way, too heavy and dark to stand, just too much…”
It was to his credit, she felt, that he sounded remorseful
about it. And the pain on his face looked so real and inescapable too, as
though he had hold of her shoulders and was whispering in her ear, Even
after everything they’ve done to me, I don’t want things to end this way for
them .
She loved him. God, she loved him.
“Then let’s go. Go on. I’m with you.”
Those words seemed to help him at least. He took her hand
when she offered it and a great blurt of feeling went through her—stupidly, of
course. Because really, who got so mushy over the first time they’d ever
properly held hands, when wolves were probably about to burst through the
ceiling and kill everyone?
But she felt it anyway. And she squeezed him tight, so
tight. And when he told her to stay close and then leaned down to kiss her, she
kissed him back.
Though when the door opened in a great rush to reveal Tara
and Commissioner Reddick, she kind of wished she hadn’t. The hand holding and
the fact that he was in her room was bad enough on its own.
The kiss was just overkill, really.
* * * * *
The weirdest thing about the whole terrible mess was the
fact that they let them continue to hold hands, all the way down the north
corridor to the incinerator. Somehow, in all her imaginings about being burned
alive and having to watch them cut Connor’s arms and legs off and so and so
forth, she’d thought they’d keep them strictly apart.
No final goodbyes. No touching of any kind. No
acknowledgement of them as people with feelings.
Though the spitting almost made up for the lack of enforced
separation. And the jabbing too, the jabbing was awesome. If that guy in the
mask behind her shoved his gun between her shoulder blades one more time, she
was going to snarl at him.
Never mind Connor. Who currently had the lock on sudden
wild, unrestrained teeth baring at very nervous-looking human beings.
Which was just another thing wrong with this familiar
scenario. She realized she’d expected them to be mean-faced and full of all the
power in the world, but even Tara seemed wary of them both. And when a gunner
jabbed and Connor snarled at him over
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