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When I opened my eyes again, it was dark, apart from the desk lamp glowing in the corner. Trevor shifted beneath me, and I could tell he was awake.
“I need to take a walk,” he said. “Get the lay of the land.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said. “But someone needs to stay with Camina.” I knocked on the door between our hotel rooms, and waited until Luke answered. He was pale and groggy, but looked clean. Camina, however, hadn’t even showered yet. She was rolled up in the sheets, her body twisted and sweaty.
The scent of blood and elixir was so pungent I nearly covered my nose. I put a hand on her forehead, but she grabbed my wrist tightly, her eyes blind with fever. She finally recognized me, and lessened her grip.
“She’s been like that for hours,” Luke said. “I don’t know what to do for her.”
“Elixir,” she wheezed. “Just a drop.”
“I don’t have any,” I shrugged. She scowled and rolled away, facing the window. The hotel was high up, looking out into the darkness behind the city. I could just make out a few stars, above the dark, rocky hills.
“Can you stay?” I asked Luke. “We’ll go explore and try to get a handle on our situation.”
“I could sleep,” he shrugged, sitting down in the armchair and putting his feet up. He used a remote to turn on an electric screen above the desk. “Besides, you’ll never believe this, but this thing is set up with hundreds of movies and TV shows. Find some more food, and I’ll stay here for a week.”
“What, no room service?” Trevor asked.
“Couldn’t find a phone,” Luke said.
Trevor rattled the handle of the door, then pushed it open with his shoulder. The lock gave easily under his weight. I braced myself, but the hallway was empty, so we left the apartment and went downstairs. A working elevator ferried us to a wide lobby with a fountain, full of shiny coins. Cars were parked out front; mostly rusted shells with a visible motor, but a few had been carefully rebuilt and painted with shiny chrome colors.
The main street beyond the entrance was clean, though some pieces had been repaired with concrete and more than a few windows were boarded up or fixed with plastic. It was a patchwork of its former, original self, but that made it no less impressive. It was a little like the miniature golf park we’d found once, but all the statues were enormous and flashing with colored signs. Tall leafy trees, their branches filled with hanging lights, lit up one long main strip, filled with hotels and shops. The sidewalks were churning with people. There were thousands of humans, from what I could see. As large as any compound, maybe larger.
“How can all this exist out here?” I asked. It went against everything we’d been brought up to believe, that King Richard’s compounds were the only safe refuge. Although we’d found small pockets of resistance, Haven had been the largest community, and they lived underground like rats. This was something entirely different. We paused just outside the building, taking in the sights and listening to soft guitar music playing through mounted speakers.
“Emily?” a figure approached us. It took me a moment to place her as one of our rescuers. She was wearing jean shorts and a dark jacket, with her curly hair pulled up and large hoop earrings.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name—”
“Gemma,” she said. “I’m glad you figured out the elevator, not everybody does at first.”
She was unarmed, and her casual greeting put me at ease, but in a strange way. Trevor must have felt the same.
“Where are all the guards?” he asked.
“You’re not captives,” she smiled. “And I don’t think there’s any call for violence, is there? At least not until we get to know each other better.”
Trevor shifted uneasily. We’d been at this too long to accept mere kindness at face value.
“I’m sure you have questions. I can give you a tour and show you around, or if you’d prefer to get right into it, Augustine is waiting nearby.”
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Lead the way,” Trevor said.
We followed her down the street, trying to keep up with her despite the pedestrian traffic. It was strange to be around this many people, but most of them ignored us. We didn’t stand out with our new threads, and although Gemma traded nods with a few people, she didn’t seem to have any special authority. The street unfolded in front of us, with flashing neon lights, bars playing music I could feel on my skin, and smells that tickled my nose—not all unpleasant. Something savory from a food truck made my stomach growl. I was so distracted by the new sights I almost didn’t see Gemma turn off the sidewalk towards a broad building, tucked away behind a sprawling lawn. Trevor grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. The lobby had a red carpet and orchids in white and blue vases. The low ceiling was mirrored, and most of the walls as well; framed by geometric patterns in gold foil. It felt like we were walking into the heart of a shifting kaleidoscope.
It made my head spin again, and I felt nauseous, but I pushed through it and kept up with our guide. In the center of the floor was a half-moon table, with green felt and square tiles drawn in white chalk. Augustine sat behind it in an ornate wooden chair.
He looked as I remembered, but instead of his fine dark suit, he was dressed more casually, in torn black jeans, a V-neck shirt and a jeanvest with patches. His eyes seemed to gleam in the dimness, despite the array of flashing lights from the machines around us.
We sat facing him, in the padded leather chairs. He snapped his fingers and someone brought us drinks on a tray. “Try it,” he said when I tried to wave them off. “It’ll settle your stomach.”
I wanted to argue, but I sipped the liquid through a straw, surprised at the strong fizziness and sweetness.
“Shirley Temple,” he said, nodding to the cherry on top.
