window. “I saw a man killed today and I ran. He was killed for this.” Rom held out the bundle in his hand.
“What do you mean, killed ?”
“Killed. Murdered. We have to go!”
“Go where? You’re not making any sense!”
He willed himself to talk around the panic rising up within him with each passing second. “The Citadel Guard killed a man for this. The man who gave it to me, they slaughtered him. With a knife. And then they came to my house.”
“What?”
“They came for this. And they killed my mother.”
She stared.
“I need your help. And you need mine. They came for my mother and they’ll come for you.”
“You think they’re going to kill me?” Her voice had risen in pitch.
Outside, a dog barked.
Rom peered back out the window into the darkness behind the building. Two forms passed the glow of a lower-level window. “They’re here!”
She sprang to her feet but then stood there, frozen.
“I don’t want my journey to end today,” he said. “But if I stay here, it will. And if you stay, I think yours will, too. If you’re ready for that, I’ll leave. But I promise, they’ll kill you.”
She hesitated only one more moment, her breath coming shallow and quick in the air between them. And then she shoved her feet into her shoes.
“Where are we going?”
This, he had already thought out. She wouldn’t like the answer.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her cloak and threw it over her shoulders.
He took her hand. Together they ran down the hall. When she turned toward the kitchen, he pulled her the other way.
“No. Quickly. The front.”
He blew out the lone lamp in the living room. In the darkness, she unlatched the front door.
They waited. Rom blinked, strained to readjust to the dark.
When the dog began its manic noise again, he whispered: “Now.”
As they ran down the steps and out into the night, Rom sent a prayer to the Maker. He asked only one thing: that he not witness a third killing tonight.
Chapter Five
E lectric light high inside the tunnel flickered through the windows of the underground train. It leapfrogged over the empty seats in stripes. It played through the auburn strands of Avra’s hair.
They stood together toward the back, Rom with one arm around the back exit rail, the other around Avra, who could not seem to still her trembling. He knew the reason. Avra, of all people, was not prepared to chance her own death. Though the pall of it had hung over her for years, she was less prepared than anyone for the inevitable.
Her hair caught in the day-old stubble against his chin. He closed his eyes, inhaled the soapy scent of it, and tried to imagine that it were any other day. That her breath against his collarbone was not uneven, the small fingers digging into his back were not ice-cold.
The box, that toxic bundle, was pressed between them, hidden inside the folds of Avra’s cloak where she’d shoved it upon sighting a compliance officer near the underground entrance.
She shuddered and he tightened his arm around her as the train lurched around a corner.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Are you sure she’s dead?”
He thought of the gurgling gash in his mother’s neck, the way she had crumpled. The blood—so much blood—soaking into the floorboards. He thought of her terror, and his.
“Yes.”
He looked across the train car to its only other passengers: an older woman reading a paper, and a university-aged man who stared out the dark windows at nothing.
Rom wondered if he would ever again have the luxury of idle thought or random dreams. Somehow, he doubted it.
She turned her face into his shoulder. “I don’t see how I can help you. Maybe you should just turn yourself in.”
“I’m not ready to die.”
“But if it’s your path—”
“And what if it’s yours? Are you ready?”
She fell silent.
“I know I’m risking Bliss by running. I know. But I can’t go in. Not yet. I
“What do you mean, killed ?”
“Killed. Murdered. We have to go!”
“Go where? You’re not making any sense!”
He willed himself to talk around the panic rising up within him with each passing second. “The Citadel Guard killed a man for this. The man who gave it to me, they slaughtered him. With a knife. And then they came to my house.”
“What?”
“They came for this. And they killed my mother.”
She stared.
“I need your help. And you need mine. They came for my mother and they’ll come for you.”
“You think they’re going to kill me?” Her voice had risen in pitch.
Outside, a dog barked.
Rom peered back out the window into the darkness behind the building. Two forms passed the glow of a lower-level window. “They’re here!”
She sprang to her feet but then stood there, frozen.
“I don’t want my journey to end today,” he said. “But if I stay here, it will. And if you stay, I think yours will, too. If you’re ready for that, I’ll leave. But I promise, they’ll kill you.”
She hesitated only one more moment, her breath coming shallow and quick in the air between them. And then she shoved her feet into her shoes.
“Where are we going?”
This, he had already thought out. She wouldn’t like the answer.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her cloak and threw it over her shoulders.
He took her hand. Together they ran down the hall. When she turned toward the kitchen, he pulled her the other way.
“No. Quickly. The front.”
He blew out the lone lamp in the living room. In the darkness, she unlatched the front door.
They waited. Rom blinked, strained to readjust to the dark.
When the dog began its manic noise again, he whispered: “Now.”
As they ran down the steps and out into the night, Rom sent a prayer to the Maker. He asked only one thing: that he not witness a third killing tonight.
Chapter Five
E lectric light high inside the tunnel flickered through the windows of the underground train. It leapfrogged over the empty seats in stripes. It played through the auburn strands of Avra’s hair.
They stood together toward the back, Rom with one arm around the back exit rail, the other around Avra, who could not seem to still her trembling. He knew the reason. Avra, of all people, was not prepared to chance her own death. Though the pall of it had hung over her for years, she was less prepared than anyone for the inevitable.
Her hair caught in the day-old stubble against his chin. He closed his eyes, inhaled the soapy scent of it, and tried to imagine that it were any other day. That her breath against his collarbone was not uneven, the small fingers digging into his back were not ice-cold.
The box, that toxic bundle, was pressed between them, hidden inside the folds of Avra’s cloak where she’d shoved it upon sighting a compliance officer near the underground entrance.
She shuddered and he tightened his arm around her as the train lurched around a corner.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Are you sure she’s dead?”
He thought of the gurgling gash in his mother’s neck, the way she had crumpled. The blood—so much blood—soaking into the floorboards. He thought of her terror, and his.
“Yes.”
He looked across the train car to its only other passengers: an older woman reading a paper, and a university-aged man who stared out the dark windows at nothing.
Rom wondered if he would ever again have the luxury of idle thought or random dreams. Somehow, he doubted it.
She turned her face into his shoulder. “I don’t see how I can help you. Maybe you should just turn yourself in.”
“I’m not ready to die.”
“But if it’s your path—”
“And what if it’s yours? Are you ready?”
She fell silent.
“I know I’m risking Bliss by running. I know. But I can’t go in. Not yet. I
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