I have to get home.
There were men watching my house. If they are still there, I can’t go home.
My chest aches as I dash into an alcove not far from a bus station two blocks away and blink back the panic that is clawing into my throat. The public transit card belongs to the Stewards. If they are looking for me, they won’t be able to track my movements. Not with that. But my phone . . . they’ll be able to track that. I can only hope they aren’t doing it already.
Shaking, I dial, praying my father answers and that he hasn’t been drinking.
It takes three rings. “Meri? Where are you? You said—”
“Dad! You have to get out of the house.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I understand you’ve been upset, but you have to come home—”
“Dad!” I peer around the doorway down the street and spot the bus coming toward me from one direction and two policemen from the other. “Listen. I can’t come home, and you can’t stay. They’re coming.” There’s too much to explain and not enough time. “If you love me . . .” I take a deep breath. “If you loved Mom, you will go out the back door and walk down the alley to . . .” To where? The Lyceum is locked down. The Marshals will search Dad’s work and every restaurant and friend’s house we’re known to frequent. There’s only one place I can send him—to the place where all the Stewards who survived the night will be headed—Index’s station. “There’s a building on the North Side of the Loop.” I give him the cross streets and tell him to meet me on the corner.
“Honey, this is crazy. . . .”
“I know it sounds insane, but please. I love you. And I need you to do this. I need you to go.” The city bus whines to a stop at the curb.
The silence stretches. Finally, Dad says, “Okay. I’m going to the alley now. But, Meri—”
“Leave your phone at home so they’ll think you’re still there.” I make sure the police are looking the other way and hurry toward the bus. “I’ll explain everything when I see you.” I hit End and let my phone drop to the ground. Then I climb up the metal step and remain standing like Atlas taught me as the bus drives away.
I take calming breaths that do nothing to ease my worry as I navigate my way back to the cross streets where I told my father we would meet. And when I see him standing near a streetlight . . . I’m tired and sore, but, once again, I run.
He smells of alcohol, but I don’t care. I hug him tight, pull him toward the station, then go through the process of entering the code. “Get in, quickly,” Index says, moving to let us inside.
“Who’s this?” Dewey appears at the end of the hall. His pants are ripped, and there’s a bruise on his cheek, but his hat is still firmly on his head. “We expected you back before now. What happened?”
“This is my dad. I had to bring him,” I say, watching the doorway, hoping to see one person who doesn’t appear. “I was recognized,” I admit, and it all comes rushing out. Spine’s death. Flap being carted away. Atlas and the gunshots and finally escaping from Mr. Beschloss, who saw the book and has most likely sent people to my home.
“Index will make arrangements for both of you.” Dewey sighs and holds out his hand to my father. “Your wife was a fine lady. Merriam is a lot like her.”
“Who is Merriam?” my father asks. “What are you doing with my daughter, and how is it that you knew my wife?”
“Not the questions I would ask, but I suppose we all have to start somewhere,” Dewey answers. When my father blinks, Dewey shakes his head. “Why don’t we go somewhere and talk. I promise I’ll do my best to speak slow.”
“I should—”
“You should go upstairs,” Dewey instructs as Index leads my confused and annoyed father down the hall. “There are others who have returned and are waiting.”
The grief that I’ve kept at bay until now swells. As does the guilt. “I don’t know if I can face everyone. Not after Spine and Flap and who knows how many others.”
“There was always going to come a time when we took a stand. We all knew going in sacrifices would be made.”
“Yeah, but I was the one that picked the locations. I—”
“Just because you lit the match doesn’t mean you control the flame. Think about that before you wallow in guilt.” With that, Dewey wanders off to speak to my father and I steel myself and go upstairs.
Two screens flicker in the dimly lit room. Over a dozen faces turn toward me, but it all fades when I spot the one I most needed to see, limping in my direction. He has a gash on his forehead and a bloody, makeshift bandage on his arm, but he is steady and strong, and I realize his clothes are wet when he puts his arms around me and holds me close.
“I told you to trust me,” Atlas whispers.
“Why are you wet?” I ask, stepping back to look at him.
“I had to take an alternate exit.”
“He got shot in the process,” Stacks adds from the corner of the room. “I had to pull his sorry self out of the water. Now that you’re here, maybe he’ll let someone patch up that arm.”
I assure Stacks that he will.
I have Atlas use his phone to send a message to Rose, then together we sit on the floor, my head on his shoulder, as we wait for her to respond.
More Stewards arrive. There are some tears, but there is laughter and pride at what has been accomplished. One by one they stumble off to their sleeping quarters, but we wait. Atlas with the phone in his hand. I with my head on his shoulder, willing Rose to make contact.
Finally, his phone rings, and Atlas passes it to me so I can answer.
“Are you okay?” I ask first.
“I’m fine. Dad isn’t himself. He was so distracted most of the time he barely remembered I was there.”
“Did you find where Isaac and Atticus are being held?”
The long pause conveys the answer before she says, “I thought I had, but no.”
I shake my head, and the air seems to go out of Atlas. Despair floods his face as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. And there is nothing I can do to help him.
Rose keeps talking. “Dad doesn’t have any paper files in his office, but he forgot to shut down his computer. You were right. He knows what happened to Isaac. I found his message to the mayor. He said he understood why Isaac couldn’t be released until the Marshals were positive the flag on his ID was flawed. He then requested authorization to visit the Unity Center to check the progress of the inquiry. His request was denied, and there wasn’t any information about where the center is located.”
Damn. “But if he’s asking to visit, then Isaac has to be in the city. Right?” And if the people we met tonight start asking enough questions, they won’t be able to hide it for long.
Atlas’s eyes open.
“Don’t give up hope,” I say. “Isaac is alive, and we’re going to find him.” We can still find them both.
The truth is out there, I think as the sun comes up. We just have to wait for it to take hold.