Follow Me Through Darkness (20 page)

I take a seat in my father’s chair behind the desk. When I was a little girl, it made him look so big and powerful. Now, sitting here makes me anxious. I don’t want this life. This job. It’s changing him, and I don’t want that either. I look down to his desk and see a ledger open on the surface. I shouldn’t-I know I shouldn’t-but I look at it
.

The script is tiny, hard to read. I have to squint to make out the small letters. The top is dated 2336. My great-grandfather was the director then, in our two hundred and twentieth year of Preservation
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5th day of March, 2336

Another survivor found his way to the barriers today. Where are they coming from? This is the third one in a month. The Elders have declared a new way to prevent them. They will scour the Old World for more and stop them before they get to us, clean the world of what remains. This world needs more perfection, so they tell me. We need to keep the Raven’s Flesh at bay.

Ever since Nicholas Taylor, the Elders have been on edge, more determined to stop any malicious activity. I must agree that the timing is too suspicious, as it was only a month ago I wrote of his confrontation with me. The Elders wanted to remove his family, but in the end they didn’t. I can’t blame them for wanting to remove Nicholas. The Taylor line has always questioned too many things. It is the cause of their deaths far too often, and it all started with the scientist in the Preservation.

Perhaps I should have been more cautious with him, but he was a good friend to me, someone I trusted. He claimed to have proof—proof!—that the Elders were up to something perverse. That they could not be trusted. As a friend, I heard him out, but it all seemed to be the ramblings of a madman, and as a servant of the Elders, I did as they commanded.

I was told to end the threat. I did so with remorse at the loss of another founding family. I discovered the proof he spoke of, and I hope it is safely kept away. The Taylors have always been and will always be a threat to our life as long as they continue to exist within our walls.

If anyone in the Compound learns of the world that exists out there, centuries of work will be lost, and we will be no better than those who were destroyed. We were saved for a purpose. No one must ever know the truth. Neither the truth beyond the barrier nor the truth within.

During our meeting after his death, the Elders used the words “experimental ultimate compliance.”

I’m not certain exactly what that means, but they say I will be the first. It’s a new technique to save those, like the late Nicholas Taylor, who question things they should not. I explained that I believed our people to be satisfied with our way of life, completely, but they disagree.

Apparently, I am special. The Elders tried to get me to understand, but I’m not completely clear on their meaning. Whatever they are looking for among the survivors, I have it. I am honored to set my family apart. Unlike Nicholas Taylor, I trust in them completely.

My mind is reeling, and I jump when I hear my father’s voice just outside. I dive toward the chair on the other side of his desk and stare up at him when he steps in the door. My heart pounds inside my chest. Can he hear it?

“Cornelia, this is a surprise,” he says. “Your face looks pale.”

I shake my head as he walks toward his desk. “I need you to sign this,” I say quickly. The words tumble over each other, and I thrust the paper at him. There is life outside
.

He raises an eyebrow in my direction and takes it from my hand. He pauses as he lowers himself into his chair and glances from the open book to me. He closes it, then reads the paper. The walls suddenly feel smaller, like they’re pushing in on me
.

“I wanted to speak with you about this. It’s my wish that you should start training for your future,” he says. “It’s time to move on from this.”

Survivors. Outsiders. Barriers. Old World. The truth. What does it all mean? Are there people outside? Life?

There’s more than just the Compound. There is life outside
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“Cornelia,” he says. I look up at him. I can’t believe they’ve lied to us
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“Actually, I’m not feeling well,” I say. I move from the chair and toward the door
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My father lays the paper on top of the book. I stare at it, at the red siding and the words inside. Outside
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“You should go to the Healers on your way out,” he says
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I nod and say nothing else
.

There is life outside.

My feet hammer against the floor as I run down the hall and past the Healers. Past the Troopers. Out the door
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DEADLINE: 19D, 9H, 2M

REMNANT CAMP: EL PASO, TEXAS

THORNE WATCHES FROM THE DOOR
while Delilah and I go over the rest of the alphabet. She’s mastered all the way to “N,” just like she said she would. I feel Thorne’s eyes on me, and then irritation seeps through our connection. Not at me, but at the things we learned earlier.

“We need to talk,” he says when I meet his gaze.

I look at Delilah, who smiles up at me while copying my “P.” “You keep practicing. We’ll be back,” I say to her.

Thorne jumps to his feet and is standing by the door before I finish the sentence. He leads me through the door and takes my hand. The storm of our connection heightens. We move down the underground corridors under the pale light of lamps and torches, drifting through hushed conversations under the dim lights. A few people stop talking and look at us like the intruders we are. The tension Thorne’s feeling flows into me and makes my own muscles tighten.

We finally stop in a small, circular room.

“What is this?”

Thorne pulls a torch off the wall, lighting up the room. “Joe brought me here this morning. We were talking through some ideas to get Remnants actively involved in safety patrols and productivity.” He pauses. “He showed me this.”

He shines the light on the floor, and below my feet is the symbol of the twin branding, the same one we have on our necks. Dozens of them. Painted in the same colors that Delilah’s been using on her letters. Under them are names.
Emma - Laura: bodies. Jonathon - Samuel: moving. Hannah - David: thoughts
. I glance over as many as I can see in the low light, and finally I see,
Cecily - Deanna: dreams
.

I kneel and touch the writing on the ground. “What is this?”

“Joe said the Mavericks had operations here decades ago, and the scientist’s family was spying for them. These were the twins born that decade.”

Why would they write the names here? What’s that other word mean? I read them again, and the pieces start to form in my head.

“The Elders were looking for clues with the twins, something special like Cecily and Deanna,” I say. A connection. Dreams. Cecily and Deanna shared dreams. This is a map of the twins the Mavericks were aware of and what they could do.

Thorne moves across the room, taking the light of the torch with him. I follow him over to a desk, and he points to a paper with writing I don’t know. It must be from the Remnants. “Joe said the spy informed them of the twins’ births and of any abilities or reactions. I guess the Mavericks thought everything would be obvious.”

Whatever the Elders are after, they are willing to go through a lot to find it. “If the Elders were really trying to obtain immortality, why would they need a special trait? How would they get that from twins?”

“I don’t know,” Thorne says, running a hand through his hair. “All of this is a little overwhelming. I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t not believe it. If what Pete said is true, all of that, then this is way bigger than our Compound. It’s bigger than us.”

“And what are they really after?”

Silence falls between us. I look around the small room. The walls are made of dirt and stone, with more of the markings in the familiar berry ink. I wish I could read it, figure out what it meant.

“It’s Xenith’s family, isn’t it?” Thorne asks suddenly. “They’re the spies. You said his family started the Mavericks, but really, they helped start everything.”

I nod. “And we’re going to help end it.”

Thorne is quiet again. Then, “I’ve been thinking. The Benny kid was right. The Elders know we’re here, and every second we stay we put them all in more danger.”

“I know,” I say. I’ve thought it, too. “We have to find whatever they’re looking for and keep the Elders from getting it.”

“It’s all connected. This proves you were right all along.” Thorne meets my eyes, and I know he wishes he didn’t have to say that. That he wishes I was wrong because that would mean none of these dangers exist. That our family is safe and the possibility of our relationship being manufactured didn’t exist. We can wish all we want, but I know neither of us will be content with the lies. Not now.

If this is the truth, or leading us to the truth, then nothing is what it seems. Not the Elders, the Remnants, our lives, or even us. My father was only the beginning.

5 MONTHS BEFORE ESCAPE

MY FATHER FELL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH,
papers spread across the floor and himself and the kitchen. Asleep, he looks so much like who he was a few months ago that I almost feel bad for avoiding him. Ever since I read that journal in his office, I haven’t quite known what to say or how to act. Everything is different now
.

It’s crazy, and that’s what I keep telling myself, but it feels right. Like a missing piece has been put back into place. It’s been three hundred years. Of course there’s life outside. And if the Elders are trying to stop it from coming in, then it’s no wonder they aren’t involved in our lives here. They’re trying to be everywhere. The question I can’t understand is why no one asks about the Old World. Hasn’t anyone else wondered?

I stare at my father and the papers littered across our house. I should walk away, go back to bed, and pretend I never saw them. But what if there’s more information? What’s the outside like, and why is it a secret? Why would the Elders lie?

I start in the kitchen, furthest away from him and the easiest place to lie about should he wake up. I fill a mug with water and set it on the table. My cover. I was thirsty. Without another second of thinking, I leaf through the papers. My heart starts pounding, but I focus on the words
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At first, it’s nothing except procedures and rules and bylaws. Things I’ve known all my life, but it looks like the Elders want to change a few of them. Phrases are crossed out and replaced with red lines and messy handwriting. The slightly curved, thin letters are the closest I’ve ever been to seeing the Elders
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The only thing remotely interesting I see is one line: This will prove useful for the large movement in the future
.
But there are no context clues as to what that means exactly
.

Time passes. Occasionally, my father moves on the couch, and I freeze in place, afraid to breathe. He always goes back to sleep, and I continue reading until my eyes hurt. Until I work my way off the table and am nestled on the living room floor
.

There’s nothing here. This is all a waste of time
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I throw the pages down, and then I see my name
.

This part of the page isn’t typed; it’s handwritten in the Elders’ writing
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Cornelia Ambrose is the plan
.

I reread the line, and a knot forms in my stomach. What plan? Why me? I have nothing they could want. The rest of the page is useless. It’s scientific words that might as well be another language. I’m the plan for what? My eyes scan the page, and at the bottom, I notice a four. This is page four
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I search through the stack on the floor and find the rest of the pages. They are out of order now, but I can’t worry about that, about what he’ll do or say, in the morning. Right now, reading this information is more important
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I start at the first page. The notes outline an experiment from years ago that the Elders started at the formation of the Compounds. One that used the branding. The details are very direct and offer no explanation or background information
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The branding proves an efficient tool in keeping questions at bay; test subjects are not injured but are open to whatever is being told to them. They think for themselves and still make decisions, but in a controlled environment, the decisions are intentionally Option A or Option B. There is no Option C, no deviation. This will be useful in the future
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The branding does something to everyone who has it. All of the people in the Compound. It stops them from asking questions, from seeking anything beyond what they are given. That explains why no one has ever wondered about the Old World-there’s no reason to wonder
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I turn the pages and keep reading. It’s more of the same, outlining people who were test subjects before the Preservation and their reactions to the branding. How the Elders altered it so it wasn’t noticeable to people that they were being forced to do things they didn’t necessarily want to do
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The Elders manipulated genes together, creating marriages that would produce the most genetically appropriate children for the Elders’ needs, and this leads to the next page about twins
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The eternity sought is to be found. Two people born of one offers the best opportunity to examine genetic splicing. The study of the way a cell forms and develops can be imitated if the testing is started from conception. Identical twins are the ideal study subjects, the most like clones that the universe can create. These two halves are stronger than one whole; in studying them closely and experimenting with data collected, therein lies the potential to live forever—either on one’s own accord or, should the search for true immortality fail, in a replicated fashion. The promise of strength found within fraternal twins is not to be overlooked. While they do not possess the qualities of eternity, they could be the key to survival in strength, skill, and other reasoning, as the bond could be made unbreakable in all circumstances. Perhaps also death
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