The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 39

Finally, we draw up to one of the many windows dotting the aerial landscape and Will ducks inside, disappearing into the darkness. I follow, climbing over the window ledge and hopping down to the floor, using my wrist to wipe the trickling rainwater from my brow.

Light flares from the the corner and settles into a low flicker. Will stands across the room, shaking out a match as he places the half-melted candlestick on the floor. Aside from Will, the candle and what looks to be a single, thin blanket balled up against the wall, the room is completely bare.

"You've really done well for yourself, I see." I tease, accepting the blanket when he offers it to me.

He doesn't move away, instead staring down at me intently as I wrap the blanket around my shoulders. He looks so incredible, standing tall with droplets of rain running down the curve of his nose that I can't help but reach forward, opening the blanket to him and pulling his lips down to mine.

His breaths are shallow, the ragged puffs of air warm against my neck. I feel my skin rise in goosebumps as he nudges the sleeves of my shirt off of my shoulders. A groan escapes my lips and my legs tremble, suddenly weak.

He catches me when I stumble, his hands cradling the small of my back as he eases me down on top of the blanket, his mouth never leaving the hollow carved by my collarbone. The weight of his torso against mine is pure ecstasy, undeniably solid and sure and entirely him.

Rain continues to fall outside, ricocheting off the scaffolding in a musical rhythm of highs and lows, playing a song just for us.

The candle has burned dangerously low by the time we draw apart, our wet clothes flung a distance away and drying into wrinkled heaps by the open window. I breathe deeply, inhaling the unfamiliar scent leftover from the rain. The sky has brightened and I roll over onto my stomach to peer out the window, craning my neck upwards.

"What is it?" He murmurs.

"The sun is back. I guess they block it out during rainfalls." I look down towards him, smiling at the affectionate way he trails his fingers up and down my exposed back.

"This Madam must have a weakness for realism." A pinched line appears between his brows and I wiggle back down into his arms, reaching up a hand to brush away the tension.

His eyes drift closed as he visibly relaxes. I take the opportunity to study him, committing every curve of his face to memory. Something seizes in my chest as my gaze darts across his handsome features. I realize suddenly that a part of me truly thought that I had lost him forever, that I would never again see him safe and whole. The thought momentarily paralyzes me and I freeze with my fingers hovering near his cheek.

He senses my hesitation and opens his eyes, wordlessly reaching over and pulling me down next to him, curling his body around mine and tucking my head beneath his chin. The simple gesture is so heartbreaking that I half-expect to have to fight another bout of panic. Instead, I feel an incredible sense of peace. My fears about our people trapped belowground still linger, but now the hopeless ache has been replaced by a kind of calm certainty. Will's strong, steady presence and talent for thoughtful planning is all we need to figure this out. With him by my side, I know there is nothing that I can't handle.

"How did you do it?" I ask.

"Liked that, did you?" He teases. "I could show you again, if you like." He tickles my hip, pinning me against him as I squirm.

"Not that!" I shove him playfully and flip onto my other side so that we are facing eachother. "I mean, how did you escape? How did you know that I would find your note?"

"Ah, that." I roll my eyes at his trademark arrogance. "I suppose I can let you in on that trick."

On that fateful day in the desert Will took note of the strangers' gas masks, remembering what Luca and I told him about our escape through the tube tunnels with the cloud of poison in pursuit. When the order was given to release the nerve gas Will was ready, falling to the ground along with the rest of our soldiers and holding his breath while he searched the sandy, bloodstained earth. A dead or injured Enforcer lay motionless nearby and he managed to crawl over to the man, taking up the mask and inhaling enough filtered air that he was able to say conscious- barely.