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And my father probably didn’t deserve saving.
And yet . . . all the logic in the world couldn’t make me walk away. I couldn’t ignore the desperate urge to find my father and to keep him from harm—even if he was the one responsible for the disaster I found myself in.
“I understand,” I finally said to Cait. I pulled one of the radios from my pocket, fiddling with the dial until I had it where I wanted it. “But take this. Leave it on channel M so we can checkon each other, but don’t use my name in case we’re overheard. And don’t get captured. Please.” I handed her the radio.
She exhaled, her body softening. “Thank you, Mara. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and for Lachlan. Let’s both find a way back to Tramore, okay? Maybe we can chop wood, roast fish, and live a life.”
I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure it showed.
“Good luck, Mara,” she said fervently.
I thanked her and sighed, resigned to the reality that I’d have to squeeze through the damn tunnel on my own.
I carefully placed my burlap sack, with its knives and radio, as far as I could inside the tunnel, then began to reach my arms through, then my head. As my shoulders reached the narrowest point of the tunnel, my lungs were compressed by the stones around me, making my breath scarce. I pushed with my feet, forcing my shoulders through the opening, scraping them as I went. And then came my hips.
My feet fought against the rocky ground outside while my hips remained wedged in place. All light from outside was blocked by my own body.
I felt a sudden shove to my feet, Cait’s push giving me just enough momentum to break through. Little by little, I squeezed forward until my upper body emerged into a wider opening. I kept pulling myself forward, wincing as I scraped my hip bones against the stones.
Eventually, my hips broke free and I emerged into a wider space, sunlight spilling into the opening, but only for a few paces before it became pitch dark.
I looked back the way I’d come. “Thank you!” I said to Cait.
“Stay out of trouble!” she said.
“I will if you will.” I picked up the gun, dropped the radio into my pocket, and started to stand, my boots splashing in the shallow water.
The tunnel was wider now, and tall enough for me to walk while bent in a crouch. It led slightly uphill, so I likely wouldn’t be facing any sudden drop-offs. I wouldn’t be close to comfortable, but it felt roomy compared to the tunnel I’d just fit through. My shoulders and hips ached, rubbed raw from the stone, and I couldn’t see a thing.
I wandered forward, my hands reaching out for the walls on each side of me, my back bent and aching. For a long time, I trudged through this single tunnel in pitch darkness, breathing the musty air.
Echoes of last night’s battle lingered in the forefront of my mind, mingling with worries about my father, my fears for Keane, and my farewell to Cait. And of course, Graham still lived in his constant home there, despite my attempts to shake him free from my head.
There was no difference between my eyes open or shut in this tunnel, and yet, here I was, with nothing but a plan for the moment. I hated being so blind, in every way. I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go when I got out of here. I’d have no rank card, no way to traverse the city and get to my home or my father.
Impulsivity seemed to be my greatest weakness, along with incurable pride and . . . a hell of a lot of other weaknesses. I jumped headfirst into every idea, no matter how wild or unsafe, the same way I dove into this tunnel. But could I help this time without causing more harm?
Chapter
Twelve
The inky darknesssurrounded me as I splashed through the shallow water, trudging through the underworld of the city.
Finally, once I’d almost given up my expectation of seeing light again, a faint glow appeared up ahead. I blinked hard, testing if my eyes were deceiving me, then hurried toward it to see if I’d finally found an escape. Sure enough, a grate appeared in the ceiling of the tunnel. Just past it was a metal barrier of vertical bars that was sure to keep me from going any farther through this tunnel. I’d have to brave whatever happened to be above me.
I went closer to the grate, smiling at the glimpse of the sunlit world, even though it was only the austere container of the walled city and was hardly freer than this tunnel, at least for me. Peering upward through the metal grid, I saw the upper half of a formal row home and heard the polite bustle of the street with its tightly reined horses trotting along with their creaky carriages. Judging by where I’d entered on the northwest point of the wall, and witnessing the finery above, this had to be the Class A Quarter.
I ducked out of view at the sound of footsteps, the grate momentarily darkening as a swooshing violet gown and heeled shoes passed over it.
I sighed, frustrated. I’d have to wait for the busy street to clear, at least enough so I could climb out and dash behind a nearby building. And even if I did get out unseen, my filthy shirt and pants wouldn’t allow me to blend in with the Class A nobles. I was starting to regret entering this tunnel, but I certainly wouldn’t be going back.
I looked up through the grate, listening and observing
As I waited, the sunlight and shadows shifted. Eventually, the flow of citizens and carriages slowed, leaving a few stretches of quiet in between, the gap between each passerby growing larger.
Finally, when no one was in sight or earshot, I took hold of the grate with both hands and pushed it upward and to the side, sliding it over the cobblestones with a metallic rasp.
I held my breath, then dared to stand up straight and peer through the opening.
