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I think he's cracking a joke, and I try to smile, but the humor quickly dwindles when his fingers fold around my elbow. The pain in my shoulder amplifies, knocking the breath out of me. Suddenly, I understand why Blaise put the shirt in my mouth because my instinctual reaction is to clamp down my jaw.
"Ready?" he asks, placing his other hand on my shoulder.
I nod, though I don't think I am.
"One ..." he starts. "Two ..."
Without getting to three, he tugs on my arm while pushing down on my shoulder. I hear a pop, and then pain explodes through my arm, shooting all the way up to my brain. Bright spots splotch my vision, and my heart slams against my chest. I scream then bite down hard, nearly tearing through the shirt with my teeth. The gun slips from my fingers as Blaise lets go of my elbow and shoulder.
He cups my face between his hands. "Breathe, Allura, or you're going to pass out."
I inhale sharply through my nose, but the air catches in my throat, and I start to choke. In a panic, I bolt upright, pressing my hand to my chest.
Blaise quickly pulls the shirt out of my mouth, tosses it aside, and then pats my back. I hack until my lungs burn then settle back down on the ground.
"That hurt," I groan, holding my injured arm.
Blaise rises to his feet and scoops up the gun. "You did well, though."
I stare up at him skeptically. "I screamed like a baby."
"Well, at least you didn't shoot me."
"Yeah, I guess there's that."
We stare at each, so close to smiling, but neither making it there.
Blaise clears his throat, coughing into his hand. "I need to put a wrap on your shoulder." He puts the gun back in his holster then extends his hand to me. "Then we need to get moving. We've already been out in the open for way too long. If the Tracker comes back, we can't be out here like this."
I thread my fingers through his and allow him to pull me to my feet. "Blaise, why was the Tracker here? Did someone send it?"
He bends down to retrieve the shirt he used as a gag. "Either the wardens or the watchers."
"Because I escaped the channels?"
"That or it could be after Reece, Ryder, and me because we helped you escape." He unfolds the shirt. "We've helped a handful of Nameless escape before, but the missions usually run more smoothly." He tears a strip of the shirt off. "I should've known this mission was going to be a pain in the ass. It was really hard getting the wardens to take Ryder to your cell. They were hesitant, but I don't know why. Usually, they love showing off their prisoners. But they even dragged out the paperwork process." He lifts his gaze from the shirt, steps toward me, and reaches for my shoulder. "That's why it took us longer." He works quietly as he wraps the shirt around my arm then ties two torn ends of fabric around my arm, creating a makeshift sling.
I keep my injured arm tucked against my side. "How did you know I was down there?"
"We didn't know you were down there. We just knew there were cells in that area and that one of them was occupied." He steps back from me and tugs on the sling, making sure it's secure. "We used electronic mapping to create an outline of the underground. It's a fucking slow process of walking around and scanning the ground until we find a section of channels. And we usually have to do it at night so we're not spotted. Then we use an image detector ..." He trails off when he catches sight of my wide eyes. "Sorry. That was probably information overload, huh?"
"A little bit," I admit. "But maybe you can teach me what all that stuff means so I won't have to feel so lost."
"It's kind of boring." He reaches for the makeshift sling again and tightens the knot. "But if you still want to learn when get back to Leviter Station, then I'll teach you."
I like the idea of being taught something, of learning and not having to rely on other people so much. I want to be like Blaise, Ryder, and Reece--able to help others. But I don't know if I could ever be brave enough to go down there and face the wardens like Ryder did.
"Blaise?" I ask then hesitate, unsure if he'll take what I ask the wrong way. What if he thinks I'm accusing him of being one of them and gets angry with me? But I have to know. "How did you guys get into the channels? I mean, the wardens knew you were there, and they thought they were selling me to Ryder, but only visitors are allowed to buy time with me, so ..." I leave the unasked question hanging in the air, too afraid to ask it aloud.
He cocks a brow. "You think we're visitors?"
I hesitate then shake my head. "No, not really."
Instead of getting angry like I expect, a hint of amusement dances in his eyes. I haven't seen amusement in forever. It's strange to witness.
"We tricked them," he says simply.
My brows pull together. "Tricked them how?"
He motions for me to follow him as he starts walking away from the car in the direction of the city. I struggle to keep up with his long strides, but I don't want to ask him to slow down, worried the Tracker will show up at any moment.
"That's what we do," he explains. "We're trained to blend in with the watchers, wardens, and visitors."
"But how do you blend in?" I push the sunglasses higher onto the bridge of my nose. "If you're human, the wardens would know."
But are Blaise, Ryder, and Reece even human? They seem human with their scars, rough hands, and compassionate eyes, but then there was the way Blaise kicked through the car and easily bent the metal.
"That's probably a question you should ask Reece. It's a bunch of scientific shit I don't even try to understand. But basically, Ryder gets a shot right before he goes into the channels, and I think the shot reconstructs his DNA so he can get through the scanners undetected." He runs his hand over his head. "As for the paperwork and forms and stuff, it's pretty easy to bug the systems and create fake papers if you know what you're doing. The camera systems are trickier because the wardens know when those are out. It limits the amount of time we can be in the channels before they notice we're down there."
I start to limp as an ache builds in my thigh and calf muscles. "That's why you guys were in such a hurry to get out."
He gives me a sidelong glance. "Yeah, but we didn't move fast enough. That's why the wardens caught up with us at the scanner."
"That might have been my fault," I say, clumsily hopping over a pile of dirt. My muscles groan in protest, but I continue moving. I have no other choice. "Lex--the warden who was yelling at us--has an issue with me. And he was really angry when I didn't obey him."
He gapes at me. "He told you his name?"
"Yeah. He's the only one who ever did. I don't know why. One day, he just came into my cell and started talking to me and told me his name. He thou
ght I owed him because of it." I exhale audibly. "I'm sorry. I feel like this thing with the Tracker might be my fault. Lex threatened to track me down if I tried to escape. Maybe he sent the Tracker after me."
"Maybe, but I've never heard of a warden sending a Tracker after one escaped prisoner. They probably sent it after all of us because they're pissed off we stole something they thought was theirs." He looks ahead again, squinting against the sunlight. "It's not your fault, Allura. You're the victim in all of this, and you need to remember that."
The way he says it, with so much passion, makes me wonder if perhaps he was a victim once, too. But I don't dare ask.
His gaze unexpectedly drops to my legs. "Why are you limping?"
"It's nothing," I lie, not wanting to seem weak. I spent too much of my life feeling that way.
"It is something." His gaze bores into me. "Did you hurt your leg when the Tracker flipped the car?"
I shake my head, kneading my thigh muscles with my knuckles. "I'm just not used to walking so much. But I can handle it. It's probably good for me, anyway. I sat in that cell for so long I sometimes worried if I'd forget how to walk."
He briefly considers something, and then, without warning, he moves forward, hooks one arm around my back and one behind my knees, and scoops me up into his arms. My eyes snap wide from the abrupt movement, and I almost dive out of his hold. But he holds me tight, refusing to let me down, and the bullets in the sling dig into my ribs.
"I don't want you wearing yourself out," he says. "We still have a ways to go, and if the Tracker shows up, I need you to be able to run."
I stop struggling to get down, realizing he's right.
"So are you ready to hear my rules of survival?" he asks as he starts walking again.
I hook my arms around his neck, hanging on to him. "Are there a lot of them?"
"Only five. But if you ask Reece, he'll probably tell you at least twenty. He always goes overboard with everything."
"Is Reece your boss?"
"No, I don't work for anyone. Never will."
"Oh. It just kind of seemed like he was."
"Reece is just bossy, and if you ask him if he's in charge, he'll probably tell you yes, but it's not true."
"Then what are you guys? I mean, why do you do all of this?" I feel kind dumb for asking since I don't know anything about this station place or what Ryder, Reece, and Blaise do besides rescue Nameless. In the car, they kept mentioning a mission and reporting back to someone, so they have to have a boss, right? Even the wardens do.
