Page 60 of Storm Caller

“I guess this is it?” I ask, peering up at the steel cover.

We both slide off our packs and leave them piled together for Rook to retrieve once we’ve completed our task.

He grasps the rungs and shimmies up before shoving off the grate and disappearing through the hole, and then I follow. We emerge into a quiet alley concealed by shadows with a dead end to our right and a bustling plaza to our left.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and the market is in full swing. The clouds are gathering, but we have at least an hour or two before everyone needs to run for cover.

I inhale a sharp breath and blow it out slowly, expelling the weighted burden of what we’re about to do. I’m going to purposely get myself caught by the Extinguishers. Something I’ve feared every day since I was a child.

“When they spot you, run,” Rook says. I give him a quizzical look. “More believable that way.”

“Right,” I say, tugging on the hem of my jacket and squaring my shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says. “I am, too.”

“This is totally unhinged, right?”

Rook maneuvers me against the wall, caging my body with his. Then he leans down to kiss me, fusing our lips together with so much bright hope, it steals my breath.

“What was that for?” I ask after he pulls away.

“A reminder of what’s waiting for us at the end,” he says. “If we survive and find the cure, I’d like the chance to see what it would be like. You and me. Together. Just . . . living?”

I nod. “I’d like that.”

He offers me a tipped smile. “Before we go out there, I want you to know that I’ve fallen in love with you, Poet Graves.” I have no idea how to respond, but he saves me from having to figure it out by pressing a finger to my lips. “You don’t need to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know. This isn’t anything I ever expected, but here you are. Brave. Kind. Strong. And just so fucking remarkable.”

Then he leans in and kisses me again. My arms loop around his neck, and he presses against me. We kiss until I can barely breathe, and then he pulls back, tapping his forehead to mine. “When we survive whatever comes next, maybe you’ll tell me you feel the same.”

Then he takes my hand and drags me toward the end of the alley.

A brief pause as we check in with each other, and then . . . we step into the light.

19

No one notices us at first. We’re lost in the crowd, anonymous in a sea of faces. Rook and I exchange cautious looks as we weave through the throng. I search for any sign of Extinguishers patrolling the plaza. General Sol assured us they would be here, because they’re everywhere now.

I notice a group of people marching in a circle, holding up signs with messages like End the Hunt and Save the Keepers, written in thick black letters.

“What are they doing?” I ask Rook as he stops to watch them.

“They’re protesting,” he says, tipping his head. “On behalf of Keepers.”

“Why?”

“Maybe they see how wrong it all is, too.”

I spot a sign plastered with a picture of my face with the words Stop the lies scribbled underneath. Sol was telling the truth about clearing my name. A lump rises in my throat, and suddenly, I feel a little more confident about her plan.

I scan the plaza, noticing that plenty of people ignore the protestors, while others watch them curiously. Because of the spectacle, or because they agree?

We’ve been gone for almost two months. How much has changed?

I watch as a trio of Patrol officers in dark-blue uniforms walks over to talk to the group. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s clear from everyone’s body language that they’re having an argument.

Rook tugs on my hand. “We should keep moving.”

As we wind through the market, a woman peers up from a fruit stand where she’s sniffing an apple, her gaze narrowing.