Chapter Three
𝗔𝗗𝗔𝗠 𝗚𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 us to follow him, his expression unreadable. I grab James's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
The path ahead is rough, littered with rocks and roots that twist like gnarled fingers out of the earth, much like what we've passed through before. But it has a weariness to it, more consuming.
Tall trees loom overhead, their branches forming a dense canopy that blocks out most of the sunlight. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp soil, and every step feels rough against the rugged terrain.
As we navigate through the forest-like area, I can't help my thoughts that fill with worry at Adam. His sudden appearance and his cryptic demeanor makes me more on guard. I hope he can't notice the goosebumps that arise on my arms whenever he stops for a moment.
I glance at James, whose face mirrors my own unease. We exchange silent looks, both of us trying to make sense of the situation.
"Rome," James whispers, poking my shoulder gently. "You know the basket—the one Ingrid gave us?"
My heart sinks. The basket. In the rush to follow Adam, I completely forgot about the basket of food. Even if I did hand it off to James to carry it, he was also preoccupied.
"I think I left it behind," I say, the realization hard. Something else to worry about on the list. James's face falls, and he looks genuinely distraught.
"I'm so sorry, Rome," he mumbles, his eyes filled with guilt. "I should have remembered."
"It's okay," I assure him. I can't help the frustration that's already brewing up inside me. Softly, I rub his back so display my message. "Stay here with Adam. I'll go back and get it."
Adam raises an eyebrow but says nothing as I turn back towards the shrubs we had passed through. My steps are quick, driven by a mix of annoyance and worry.
What is Adam's game? Why is he acting so strange? Why is this so important and urgent? Where are we going, and most importantly, who are we meeting?
The questions swirl in my mind as I retrace our path, ducking under branches and stepping over roots.
When I finally find the basket, nestled among the bushes where we'd left it, I let out a sigh. Lifting up the thin white cloth that covers the top, I'm met with all three fresh sandwiches still intact. Oh bless.
I pick it up, the familiar scent of bread and ham wafting up to me. At least I have Ingrid's kindness being small comfort in this confusing mess.
With the basket in hand, I make my way back to where Adam and James are waiting. Adam stands by the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. James fidgets nervously, glancing at me with a mix of relief and curiosity as I approach.
"Got it," I say, holding up the basket. James's face lights up, and he nods appreciatively.
"Thanks, Rome," he says softly, his earlier guilt replaced by gratitude.
"Let's go," Adam says curtly, turning on his heel and leading us deeper into the forest. The trees eventually thin out, revealing a clearing dominated by a massive, old tank. Its metal surface is worn and rusted in places, a relic from another time.
James and I exchange shocked glances. He pokes my shoulder again, his eyes wide with confusion. I shrug, equally bewildered, as we both try to make sense of what we're seeing.
Adam steps back into the tank, and with a simple gesture, beckons us to follow him inside. I shuffle behind James as he leads the way into the tank. Adam moves to a door, preparing to retrieve whoever he wants us to meet. James turns to me, his face a mask of confusion.
"Who do you think it is?" he whispers.
"I honestly have no clue," I reply, my eyes wandering around the tank. It's mesmerizing. I've never even been on a plane, let alone inside a tank. The interior is surprisingly clean despite the tank's rusty and dented exterior.
In the corner lay two black duffel bags, the appearance of it looks to be filled to the brim.
Footsteps and the creak of a door draw my attention back to Adam. He steps aside to reveal a girl.
Wow.
She's, I mean—beautiful.
But, Jesus Christ, she looks terrified. I've never seen anyone so nervous. She appears to be around my age, but her expression and posture suggest she's seen far more than her years should allow.
She looks malnourished and curious, but fear dominates her features. She avoids eye contact with me and James, fidgeting with her tattered dress and running her hands through her disheveled hair. The dress might have once been fancy, but now it's torn and dirty.
What happened to her? What does Adam have to do with this?
Adam guides her towards us. "James, Rome, this is Juliette." He turns to her. "Juliette, this is James and Rome."
She gives us a shaky smile, making brief eye contact before looking away again. A small introduction, but it's better than nothing.
"Wait, this is Juliette?" James says, glancing between her and Adam.
"You know me?" Juliette's voice is soft, tentative.
"Of course. Adam can't ever seem to shut up about you," James says, grinning, most likely referencing to the secret letters Adam manages to get across to James.
I've heard of her name, but never bothered to ever look into it. It's not my business, and I know Adam wouldn't be quite pleased with me snooping around his stuff. Nevertheless, it's still surreal to see her.
James's curiosity gets the better of him as he look at the malnourished girl up and down. His gaze falls on her torn dress, the fabric hanging loosely and revealing more than it should.
"Juliette," he begins tentatively, his voice filled with genuine concern, "what happened to your dress?"
Juliette's face turns beet red, the color rising rapidly from her neck to her cheeks. She glances down at the dress, as if suddenly remembering of it's sorry state.
"It's. . .it's nothing," she stammers, trying to cover the torn part with her hands. But her attempt only seems to draw more attention to it.
"James, how about we make sure there's no underwear lying around, because Juliette is going to be staying with us for a while," Adam interjects, gently pushing James towards the door, clearly noticing Juliette's discomfort.
James looks embarrassed as he leaves the tank, stealing one last glance at me and the duo before presumably heading to his home, more or less a five minute walk from here. I turn back to Juliette, who's staring at me.
An awkward, pregnant pause fills the air. A brush of wind or a chirp from a bird is heard, but nothing fills the emptiness of the war craft.
"You're really pretty," I blurt out, covering mouth in embarrassment once they leave my mouth. I hadn't meant to say that out loud, I think.
"Oh, you too, thanks," she says, fidgeting with her dress again. "For the compliment! Sorry, I di—"
"No, no, it's fine. Trust me, you don't need to apologize at all," I assure her with a smile, I would rather not have any more stress put on her. She smiles back, a bit more relaxed.
Silence settles between us as we wait for James. Not comfortable, but not intolerable.
Being honest, I've never had friends back home, much less what people call 'girlfriends'. During my early ages, I've seen girls with bonds so tight it's as if they're sisters, their souls seeming to be intertwined.
I can't help but stare at her once every minute. The thoughts come in before I can think twice about them. If we became friends, could we paint each other's nails or braid each other's hair?
I wonder.
Would she find that weird? Even if she does, she seems genuine, like she wouldn't judge me. If even she might, I'd rather give her the benefit of the doubt. Embarrassingly enough, I want to try and become friends with her, even though I've known her for around only five minutes.
I can't help myself. Plus, Ingrid would encourage this new, maybe, upcoming friendship. I hope.
I overhear Adam and Juliette talking quietly but choose not to listen in. They seem close—too close.
Their subtle touches suggest a deeper connection, though nothing overtly romantic. But still giving off the hint of a relationship that runs father then friends.
Just as I'm about to ask, James returns, announcing that there's no underwear on the floor with proud steps.
"Is she living with us, or is it a sleepover like when Rome stays over?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.
Adam looks at me, his eyes revealing a hint of worry and resolve. "Juliette will be staying with us for a while," he says firmly with a curt nod, leaving no room for doubt.
"Oh, okay then. It's nice to meet you," James says, extending his hand for a handshake with Juliette. Adam glares at James, who quickly retracts his hand.
"I'm joking, stop fussing like a baby," James laughs, putting his hand down.
"Wait—what?" Juliette says, confusion crossing her face.
"I know all about your magic powers. I won't touch you, don't worry," James quips, smirking.
I repeat Juliette's concern. Wait. What?
Magic powers? He's being sarcastic, right? My eyes widen as I look to Adam for confirmation. He catches my gaze and nods slightly. "I'll explain when we get home," he says, not in a sarcastic manner, hinting it's not a joke. Slowly I nod back, still taken aback by the mention of 'powers.'
Adam grabs his flashlight from his holster and switches it on. Turning his back, he picks up the duffle bags on the floor. Sliding the strap onto him, he lets it rest upon his back without complaint.
"Alright, let's move then." Him and Juliette head out of the tank towards his house first, leading me and James to follow their lead.
Gripping the basket until my hands feel sore, I get a move on, slight jogging to be a few feet behind from them as James joins my side.
He doesn't seem to mind the awkwardness of the situation, and continues to rant about school without a care. When he directs his attention to tell Adam about it, we're already inside an abandoned garage.
I've been here so many times, my feet can navigate this place on their own, muscle memory at its finest. I have the siblings to thank for that. We ascend several flights of stairs, James rushing ahead, almost tripping as he tries to skip three steps at a time.
We finally arrive, now moved up closer to Adam with Juliette lagging even farther behind. Adam punches a code into the keypad, and we all enter the house one by one. Adam, James, me, then Juliette.
The living room is the first thing you see upon entering. It has a calming mix of green and orange tones, reminding me of a greenhouse the more I walk through the front doors.
I walk into the dining room, set the basket on the table, and join James on the couch, the both of us peering at Juliette as she takes in the house with wide-eyed amazement.
She examines every tiny detail, every object in the room, not moving from the spot where she entered.
Adam drops his duffel bags on the floor and keeps his eyes on Juliette, waiting for her reaction to the home. "I love it more than anyone can imagine," she says softly, looking at Adam with gratitude and relief.
Adam leaves us to settle into his long waited rest home, leaving me and James to sit in silence as Juliette remains standing.
No one at first initiates anything, the soft exhales of our breaths only being heard, but when Juliette starts glancing at James quite often, she starts asking James questions about school and his friends.
Her stance and posture might make it seem like she wants nothing to do with us, but it's clear with her tone that she's warming up to us little by little. "Are you home alone most of the time?" she inquires.
"No," James answers. "Rome almost always comes here, and if she doesn't, it's Benny." Juliette glances at me for a moment before looking back at James.
She keeps asking him questions, moving from topic to topic until there's nothing left to talk about except how hungry we all are.
When on the topic of food, Juliette is shocked to learn that the Reestablishment makes 'fake' food when James shows her what it is. Luckily this time, we have the premade sandwiches Ingrid made for us. Fresh and made with love, unlike the food the Reestablishment insists on shoving down our throats.
I notice Juliette eyeing my sandwich and, without a second thought, offer it to her. She probably needs it more than I do. Her skin pale and thin supports my claim. She accepts it gratefully, uttering a small thank you.
"Do you go to school?" Juliette asks after finishing her portion, now directing her curiosity towards me.
"Not really. I sell produce since I never really know how to enroll in school without my parents." I slightly pause at my words, realizing the slip up. "I'm not stupid or anything, just didn't gain knowledge in specific areas."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, her eyes filled with genuine sympathy.
"It's fine," I reply, grateful she doesn't pry about my parents. Most people ask endless questions about them, but she understands. It makes me feel guilty by how quick she can pick that up.
After James finishes his portion, all of us move to sit down on the coach. Me and James aren't left with that much room as Juliette sits on the other side. Adam enters around a minute later, looking more messier than how he came in.
Ignoring the sudden intrusion, James starts talking about anything that comes to mind. Even though he hasn't stopped talking for about half an hour, it's comforting in its own way.
When he finds yet another topic to discuss, his head is on my lap, feet becoming dangerously close to Juliette; looking ready to drift off. My nails find their way on top of his head, lightly scratching it in a comforting matter that he's expressed he's loved in the past.
"You guys don't mind that I talk a lot, right?" he asks, lifting his head to look at me and Juliette, waiting for our answers as I stop my motions.
"I don't," I say.
"Me either," Juliette adds.
"That's good then. A lot of people say I talk too much, but what else can I do when there's so much to be sai—"
"James, you know that you can't tell anyone about us being here," Adam interrupts from the corner of the coach he's peering over, looking pleased to find a way to include this into the conversation.
"I won't. You never even showed up," James acknowledges, dragging out a yawn at the end. The older brother responds with a hum, giving James his acknowledgment.
Within minutes of slurred words and "I'm just going to rest my eyes," James is knocked out on my lap, exhausted from all the talking and walking we did. I gently stroke his hair, feeling a pang of affection for the boy.
As I sit there, I suddenly remember James mentioning "magic powers." My curiosity piqued, I stare off into the lit lamp, zoning out for a moment. "Can someone explain to me about this whole 'magic power' thing?" I ask, breaking the silence. Adam gives me an annoyed look, but I persist, determined to understand.
"Basically, Juliette kills anything she touches," Adam responds bluntly. I laugh, thinking he's joking, but when no one joins in, my laughter dies in my throat. "You're not joking?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I feel my hand freeze in James golden locks.
"No, I'm not," Adam replies solemnly, his expression serious.
I glance at their intertwined hands, confusion knitting my brow. "How is she touching you then?" I mutter, my eyes flicking between them.
Adam sighs, irritation evident in his tone. "I don't know for sure yet, but I just can, alright? No more questions."
"Jesus, okay," I mutter, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief at his terse response. I turn my gaze to Juliette, hoping she's in a more talkative mood. "Do you like to read?" I ask, my voice softening.
Juliette's face lights up with excitement. "I do. Do you like to read as well?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"I love reading—what's your favorite?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.
Juliette's smile widens. "I adore classic literature. Jane Austen, Charles Dickens. . .You?"
"I enjoy those too, but I also love fantasy and science fiction," I reply, feeling the warm connection possibly forming between us.
As Juliette and I continue sharing our love for books, the conversation flows effortlessly with quietness tuning in the back, Adam thankfully quiet. I can't remember the last time I smiled so much while talking to someone that isn't Ingrid.
For the first time in a long while, I feel like I have a shot at having a girl friend. The thought fills me with an unexpected joy, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the day.
Maybe not all hope is lost.