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I nod and begin to pull away, but he grips me tighter.
“I’m serious, Noah,” he bellows, his fingers digging into my shoulder. “Salvation of your precious civilization be damned, we need to fight. That’s what this night is all about. If the people of Goldenrod aren’t a help, then they’re a hindrance.”
“I’ll see you at dawn!” I yell back. Finally pulling away, I turn and don’t look back as I run through the trees and toward town.
My heart pounds, and my feet sink into the mud covering Bluestem Meadow as I quickly make my way. I don’t slow down until I’m on Dogwood Street. And then, I only jog, my eyes flicking over the dark houses and storefronts.
It’s late, and everything is quiet and shuttered. The sound of the rain hitting the buildings and cobblestones, and the thunder and lightning in the distance create a gloomy, deserted atmosphere. It’s almost as if there’s no one here—like Goldenrod has already been abandoned.
And when I finally make the turn toward Spruce Street, it’s even darker. The houses look like hollow faces, and the street an inky river. I’ve only been to Marcus’s house once, a little beige two-story at the very end of the long street.
Finally, I’ve arrived. It’s quieter standing on Marcus’s front porch, shielded from the rain. I’m shaking my soaking limbs and running my hands through my wet hair when it finally occurs to me that I have no idea how I’m going to go about this.
Nevertheless, I inhale in a deep breath and bang on the door loudly. The sound resonates on the narrow porch, and it’s only a few seconds before the door cracks open a few inches.
Marcus’s face hovers in the crack, holding a candle below his scowling face. He doesn’t look surprised to see me.
“You’re a day late, Administrator.”
“Sorry about that,” I grumble, running my hand through my drenched hair again. “I got distracted.”
Grunting, he steps back to open the door completely. “Well, come in.”
He motions me into the narrow front hallway, lit only by the candle he’s holding.
I can barely see three feet in front of me as I follow him into a living room off to the right side. I stand for several seconds, dripping water on the carpet, before he wordlessly hands me a blanket, and I use it to dry my arms and face.
Despite the darkness, when I drop the blanket from my face, I can tell the room is crammed with furniture and boxes. It also has a musty smell to it, reminding me of the Sage House basement.
Marcus sets his candle on the coffee table and walks to a particularly dark corner—I can just barely make out his back hovering over a narrow sideboard.
“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“Sure,” I say, throwing the blanket on a narrow couch and sitting atop it. “But I thought you didn’t drink mind-altering substances?”
“I keep it for guests,” he grumbles, not turning around.
I consider his dark form in the candlelight. He’s in a bad mood. I don’t think I’ve seen him this grumpy since before the blackout. But this seems more like the Marcus of old—cranky and mean, slinging self-righteous insults. It doesn’t bode well for my cause, I suppose. But there’s no helping it.
“How was it then?” he asks, sitting down and handing me a glass.
I blink. “How was what?”
“Cypress House,” he says, exasperated. “You went yesterday to check on things?”
“Oh, yeah.” I pause, sipping the whiskey and wincing. It’s watery. “Rill and his alphas are gone. They left Goldenrod.”
He hums and nods. Obviously, this isn’t a surprise for him.
“But you knew that?” I ask slowly.
“Not all of us are as distracted as you, Noah,” he says clearly. “Maybe you should stop drinking so much whiskey.”
I roll my eyes and set the glass on the coffee table. “Then why did you send me out there?”
He shrugs. “A test.”
Annoyed, I forge on. “Since you know that, there’s more. I found out the person you saw at the fence last week was my brother, Jason.”
