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“You got it?”
“Of course.”
“If you don’t see the Kindle square, swipe your thumb again and it’ll be on the next page of the menu options.”
I tilt the phone toward my face and peer down at it. The children pictured look so real. As if they’re right here next to me. How very odd. What makes the photos so lifelike? I cast my gaze back up to the Carnegie, who’s turned away from me with one hand outstretched toward the rubble pile.
“Warn me before you move things,” I murmur.
“Will do.”
I swallow and look back at the screen. One of the squares says “Photos.” I want to press that and see what happens, but he didn’t tell me to. I drag my thumb across the screen again, and all the boxes change. Now there’s one that says “Kindle.” I press it and look up again, in time to see him step to his left, pull the tent joint out, and poke around the rocks with it again.
“What are you finding?”
“What are you reading?” His voice is slightly strained. I watch the lantern light play on his back, making shadows as his muscles flex. I press my lips together.
Be careful.
“Why don’t I help?” I murmur, chewing at my lip.
“Stay there. If something did fall, I’d need you to doctor me, yeah?”
I rub my lips together again, noticing they sting. I take some gloss from my pack and spread it over them, and then, when I look up to find him standing in the same place, I return to the phone. It asks for the passcode in again, but that’s okay; I have a memory for numbers.
He moves around a bit, but I pay him no mind. I wonder why this little square is called “Kindle.” Does it feature forbidden books, the sort of books one might burn?
I press a small, square cover that says The Art of Power, and then glance up because I think he murmured something.
“Everything all right then?” I call.
“Fine.” He’s got his arms raised to the ceiling right beside the rubble pile. As I look at him, I realize he’s straining.
I jump up.
“Stay back!”
His arms are clearly braced against the ceiling right beside the rubble pile. “What happened?” I dash closer.
“Get back!”
As I step closer still, the ceiling caves in. It’s a blur, a shout from him, and then he’s lunging at me, dark rocks bouncing off his shoulders. I glimpse his face—wide-eyed and open-mouthed—before he sweeps me off my feet. I’m spirited away, my body pressed against his hard one as he tucks me to his chest and doesn’t let me go until we’re near the stream. When I look up, his head is down.
Low panting fills my ears. He looks up, blinking through a streak of blood that’s streaming from his forehead.
“You okay?” His eyes are intent on my face.
“You touched me.” It’s half laughed—hysteric-laughed—and in the darkness, I can see the strange look on his face. It’s not a smile and not a frown, but something in between. I realize I can’t tell for sure…because it’s pitch black dark.
Ten
Declan
Her mouth lolls open and her eyes bug out like a deer in headlights. Except of course, there’s no light here. I don’t know her well enough to know her tells, but I’m pretty sure she’s close to crying. Something she does with her mouth after she closes it…
“Hey…” My hand’s on her shoulder before I remember she said don’t touch her. I move it off her and step back a little. “The lantern must have gotten hit. We’re still okay.”
She shakes her head once, covering her face with both hands.
