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I got my gun back from Candy. It’s tucked under my waistband, but it doesn’t give me much comfort.
Crone will be on us soon.
Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That’s what Crone is doing. I am not sure what he expects, but he is definitely insane.
We make it to the port area and halt, peeking from behind a small warehouse.
A chain fence surrounds the area. Vehicles are parked along it. There are several security towers and three armed guards, chatting and smoking at the main gate to the port. A truck goes in, a scooter goes out—everyone is being checked.
Shit. We have no chance here.
We creep around the warehouse further along to where the passenger docks are.
Same scenario.
Fuck.
There was no fence here two years ago. And not nearly as many guards.
“Kai, how are we supposed to get past them?” Callie asks.
Good question.
I nod toward a rundown warehouse and utility sheds in the distance, and we make our way there, behind the building, where dumpsters are lined up in a row.
Someone is burning a fire. The stench of rubber burns my nostrils. There is commotion behind one of the dumpsters and a cough. There are homeless people everywhere.
I need to think. If we don’t make it to the docks right now, we might have to go to Candy’s again. She has no interest in this. I hate to jeopardize her wellbeing.
If anything, we’ll try again by night. I will try this again and again if needed.
The last resort—something I hate thinking about—is to track down Butcher and his gang. They say Butcher has his ways with the port patrol and is not exactly friends with Crone.
The coming dawn is turning the air hazy. Another hour, and we won’t be able to sneak around at all.
I pull Callie to the small space between two dumpsters. It stinks here, there is a dirty rag on the ground, but we need to chill and think.
“Maybe we can make our way to the Eastside,” she says, “the way you came in, you know? Then take a boat and…”
She doesn’t finish. It’s a good idea, but there is no way off this island without Crone’s permission. Unless we make it to the port boat unseen.
I kiss her temple, pulling her into my arms, as we sit down on the ground. “We got it.” I’m not sure of it, but she needs to stay positive.
Her hand cups my face. “We’d better get it, Kai. It’s our only chance. If we don’t and the next time I see you is in four years, I might have tattoos from head to toe. But I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
I chuckle. “As long as you have KAI in big letters tattooed across your sweet little butt.”
She giggles.
It’s a miracle we manage to joke in the middle of this. It might be a coping mechanism.
“I would do it again and again,” I say to her, knowing that the past dramas are nothing compared to what I felt with her in the last weeks. “I would survive that fire again if only I can have you in my arms like this.” Callie’s arms tighten around me, her face buried in my chest. My eyes sting and my throat goes dry, but we need to be honest with each other. “Knowing that you feel the way I do. That you want me with you. I love you, Callie.” I am about to tear up myself as I hold her body to mine, pressing her so tight to my chest like some invisible force is about to tear us apart for good.
“I love you too,” she says with a little sob. “Promise…” I hear her take a deep breath. “Promise that whatever happens… Happens to both of us.”
The words hit me like a hundred-pound hammer. I know what she means, and there is no darker thought in this moment. If something happens to her, I don’t want to be a survivor. I’ve been one for far too long. When it’s a solitary journey, eventually it becomes close to impossible to keep your head above the water.
“We’ll be alright, alright?” This is not the moment to get all dark and pessimistic.
