I woke up to singing. The voice floated over my parted lips and entered me with desperation. It tore me from my dreams, only to drop me back in them, tugging me out just to push me back in. I found him between reality and a nightmare. His humming was a vibration of brutality. When I finally awoke, I was surprised I wasn't in pieces, laid out in his open arms.
My eyelids cracked open, and a soft orange light filled the living room. The bright white carpet was as gorgeous as the falling sunrise must have been right at that moment. Even then, I couldn't look away. I was too transfixed on the song I had never heard before.
Show me the sun, expose me to waves, breathe me an ocean
Far away, further, further, and further away
Our war is one we cannot begin—but this sun will lead me
Into the depths of you, into the depths of you
Until then, my dear, until then, I say—
Let these trees be my waves of blue
The comforter fell off of me as I shifted my feet off of the couch. I stood, and the singing stopped. Noah stood by the fire mantle. He held three purple flowers from the garden outside. Without acknowledging my existence, he laid the flowers next to the family portrait that had once been in his bedroom. It would stay on the mantle from now on.
His arms fell to his sides as he looked at the photograph. I imagined his family filling the room as he stared. Liam teased his siblings like any older sibling would do. Rinley would cry about being the youngest. Mrs. Tomery would comfort her with ice cream or music; perhaps she played the piano or the cello. Maybe one of the kids played the instruments. On rare occasions, they all sat around and played together, laughing and hugging and eating dinner. Rinley would be wearing that silly floppy hat. They would have stereotypical conversations about school and work, Mr. Tomery wouldn't mention tomo, and Noah would be prided over for his academic accomplishments.
My chest sank for them. Noah had to miss them, even when his father ordered him around. He had to remember a naïve moment he must have had at a younger age, probably when he had braces. He might've laughed more then. He was probably less defensive, more open to talking, a boy with a real life that had choices and possibilities, hopes and dreams. A boy, not the man he tried to be out of necessity.
His childhood was all gone now, disrupted by a war on drugs. He was gone.
"My mother planted those flowers ages ago," Noah said, turning away from the photo to look at me. "Periwinkles were her favorite. I was surprised they were still here."
"Your neighbors might have planted them." Maybe they were loyal after all.
"They must have kept the house in order," he agreed, "before the tunnels were closed."
"So they must've closed them recently," I said, trying to mask my groggy morning voice.
Noah nodded, either pretending not to notice or actually not noticing at all. He no longer looked at me, but his face was lit up in the morning light. For once, bags didn't hang from his eyes. He had slept.
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the painting. "I'm leaving this here."
"To let them know you were here?"
"To say goodbye."
His last word clung to me.
I stepped back and returned to the couch. As soon as I was close enough, I grabbed the comforter and began to fold it. Anything to avoid him.
"We should clean up," I muttered.
Noah's footsteps stopped me. They were closer than I thought he was, and his hand wrapped around the blanket before I could turn around. He threw it on the couch, turned to me, grabbed my shoulders, and kissed me again, deeper than the night before. His hand whipped around my waist, his other hand spread across my sternum.
"Noah," I exasperated as I pulled away, only to lean my forehead against his chest. My head bobbed as he breathed heavily. His hand tightened on my lower back, touching my skin.
"We're all going to be safe, Sophie," he said as he laid his chin on my shoulder. "I promise. Broden. You. Lyn. Your dad—"
"You're leaving."
He reached up to hold my shoulders. He leaned me back but lifted my face with his free hand. "You'll know the way out of here if anything goes bad."
I would not look at him. "Broden's in jail."
"I promise, Sophie."
I ducked away from his touch. "I—I don't know about this, about anything."
"You know about me."
I didn't respond, my silence speaking for me, and Noah's throat made a noise I didn't recognize. He coughed to cover it up. "Miles and Lily are coming to get us," he murmured, stepping halfway across the room.
My chest was sinking and rising at the same time, a bobbing ship. "We should go, then."
"We should."
...
"So, that's it then," Miles said as his red car rumbled against the morning silence. "We know where Rinley is."
My neck hurt as I looked from side to side, searching for the police that would surely jump out and catch us all. Nothing happened. No one was here. Anthony hadn't lied.
"We need a plan," Noah spoke, "and we need to go tonight."
Miles slammed on the brakes, and the car came to an abrupt halt. Everyone lunged forward, but the seatbelts yanked against our chests. Lily coughed.
"Tonight?" Miles could barely repeat the word. "We don't even know for sure that we will be able to find her."
"The file said she would be with my uncle."
"You mean, your uncle that got blamed for everything?" Miles hissed.
I flinched at the mention of Noah's uncle—Anthony's father, a dead man, an executed criminal, someone who no longer existed.
"She'll stay close," Noah said.
"So, what?" Lily asked, facing us in the backseat. Her white hair sprayed around her face in crazy spurts. "We'll walk up to the house, knock on the door, and ask if Rinley is home?"
Noah laughed loudly, unable to hold back his reaction. I bit my lip to prevent mine. I didn't want to scream at him, but I was about to. He wasn't telling them the truth. Rinley had the recipe memorized. She was our last hope.
"Come on, Lily." Noah didn't use her full name. "My family had a plan. If any of us got left behind, get relocated before relocating yourself in that area."
"Great," Miles grumbled, pressing on the gas again. "So, we don't even know where she is exactly?" This recovery wasn't going to go any smoother than our previous ones. "Why couldn't you guys just have a meeting place?"
Noah leaned back in his seat. When his arm touched mine, I scooted as far away as I could. He didn't even flinch. "Hiding in Topeka on your own would get you caught and killed in a heartbeat," he said.
"Says who?" Miles snapped. "Sounds like another goose chase to me."
"Quit it, boys," Lily interrupted. "We're too close to fight like this."
Miles took a sharp turn, and Noah's side was digging into mine. I closed my eyes, wishing it all away, as Miles drove onto a main road. His windows weren't even tinted. He was doing it on purpose.
"Miles," Noah growled. "Get on the back road."
Miles met Noah's glare in the rearview mirror with one of his own. "It's uncomfortable, isn't it? Not being in control?"
Noah's knuckles turned white as his fingers formed fists. Everything else was still. The suffocating air felt as if it would explode into pieces like the Traveler's Bureau, waiting to be studied by Phelps himself. My fingers traced up my neck, and I held my heart-shaped necklace. My hand cooled against it, the same temperature of Noah's touch, moments before kissing me.
I couldn't look at him.
"I need your help, Miles," Noah said for the hundredth time. "Without Dwayne here, I can't get on a train."
Miles forced a tight laugh. "A train?" he repeated. It was news to all of us, but Miles' head bobbed up and down like he had been expecting it all along. "Of course you need a train. You needed one then, and you expect me to get you another one now," he ranted, exposing just how much of a genius he was. Miles Beckett stole a train as a preteen.
"It didn't work last time," Miles continued, but he didn't dare to say Liam's name. Noah didn't either.
Miles tapped the steering wheel and then slammed his fist against it. The horn honked as Miles yanked the car toward the nearest back road. He cursed as the main street disappeared behind us. Lily watched me in the rearview mirror, wide-eyed and pale. I had to bet I looked the same to her. This was between the guys.
Finally, after two blocks of driving, Miles pulled into my driveway. The tires rumbled over the ground with a loud crunch. Lyn sat in the yard, her brown skin glistening in the sunlight as Falo ran around her, falling every few steps. She waved, and her tattoos stared at me as if to remind me of the portraits in Phelps' mansion. The Brooklyn Bridge. It was tattooed across her chest. The dictator was everywhere I was, even at home.
Miles parked, and Lily jumped out of the car. She wanted out of the drama as much as I did, but I forced myself to stay.
"We'll meet at the crest at twenty after eleven," Miles said, glancing at the face of his black watch. "Not a minute later or I'm gone."
"Thank you." Noah grabbed onto Miles' shoulder to shake it as if they were brothers. "I'll see you then—and only you." Noah looked over at me, his green eyes piercing. "Understand?"
My jaw dropped. "Lily and I aren't coming?"
"Absolutely not," Miles seconded Noah. "We can handle this. You two can consider this whole ordeal over."
"But—"
"No arguing," Noah said as Miles stepped out of the car. "This is our job, and we aren't losing any more people."
I didn't speak. I only glared, unable to fight back—yet.
The two boys jumped out and whispered about the plan, but Lily and I stayed back. She glanced over as she threaded her arm through mine. "Did they say we weren't going?" she asked.
I nodded.
She harrumphed. "I don't know why they think we'd ever listen to them."
"Me neither."
I couldn't believe it. Coming this far, being a part of it all, only to be shoved back powerlessly as if we had never helped out. I wouldn't accept it. I refused.
"We're going," I said.
"Of course we are," Lily agreed. "They couldn't do it without us."