Read The Wandering (The Lux Guardians, #2) for Free Online Page A

impossible for me to accept it.
     
     
    12:17. 12.10.2040. The
Free Lands, Southlands, Harwich.
     
     
    Alba and the Guardians
have wrangled a ship from somewhere in the harbour. We are due to
sail to an abandoned town farther up the coast and then make our
way by foot to our true destination—the town of Manchester, where a
band of survivors have been living for years independent of the
Officials. This is news to even the people from Forgotten London,
who respond to the statement with disbelief and outrage.
    “If people have been
living there all this time, why didn’t you take us to them
sooner?”
    “There was no way past
the fence,” Alba answers coolly. “Once we were trapped inside the
only way to escape was to do what we did—destroy the town. If we’d
have attempted to escape before we did, even more people would have
been lost to the Fall—you perhaps.”
    “We should still have
tried,” mutters a boy no older than me.
    “You’re free now.”
Timofei’s sharp voice cuts through the muttering. “You should be
grateful for that.”
    Another Guardian says
something but his words are blown into the sea. Others must have
heard him, however, because a ruckus rises. I strain to pick out
what they’re arguing about but until there’s a lull in the wind I
hear nothing. In the sudden quiet I catch a vicious string of words
that has me gasping.
    “He’s not to blame!” a
girl yells. “We’d still be locked in there if he hadn’t found us.
We’d be dead!”
    A woman adds her voice
to the crescendo. “Yeah! Did you forget States were going to kill
us, James? Would you rather be dead? I can arrange that.”
    “I’d love to see you
try, Jessi.”
    “Enough!” Alba’s voice
has worn thin. “You are Guardians and you will act like it or so
help me—”
    “We’re people too,
Alba,” says a dark haired man a little in front of me. He’s several
years older than most of the people here, his voice brittle. “We’re
allowed opinions—we’re not Officials.”
    “Yes, thank you, Kyle.
And you’re right; you are allowed opinions, as long as you’re quiet
and inoffensive about it. James, however”—presumably Alba points at
the boy I first heard, the one with the nasty mouth—“was being
downright malicious and there’s no need for it.”
    At Alba’s next words
everything snaps into place.
    “Every one of us is equal now. Guardian, civilian, leader,
follower. We’re all homeless, we’ve all lost people, and not one of
us knows what will happen next. But to put all of your anger and
blame on Honour is wrong and it will get you nowhere. We have to be
a whole unit. We
can’t be turning on anyone. There are only seventy of us left and
we’re weak in our small number—but sticking together will make us
stronger. Internal conflict will only make us easier to break when
the Officials find us.”
    She looks at the
people in the front of the crowd, her eyes settling on each person
in turn. “This is hard enough without you fighting each other. I
assure you that every single person feels bad enough already
without being laid into.” Her eyes drift in the direction of the
vicious James. “Attack anyone again, verbally or physically, and
you’ll be left here without help.”
    With that she turns
and heads up a set of wooden steps onto a blue-hulled ship. A
white, three-tiered eyesore sits above the deck, filled with
windows that glare like narrowed eyes, and a string of all the
nations’ flags flaps in the sea breeze above them. The name Clelia
II is picked out in silver on its side.
    We were told that a
team of their technologists and pilots have almost figured out how
to captain it, but I’m still dubious about boarding. I’m literally
placing my life in the hands of men and women who are making things
up as they go along. But if I don’t go with the Guardians I stay
here alone, with no direction, purpose, or friends to speak to.
    I turn the collar of
my jacket up against the sea wind and