The Pledge (19 page)

Then I remembered a place we could go, safer maybe than the others. Hopefully.

“The tunnels!” I cried out, lifting my head and meeting Max’s intense gaze. We were just inches apart. “Beneath the city, where the subways used to run! They’re being used as shelters!”

I didn’t wait for his approval, I just stood and ran. I kept my head as low as I could, wrapping one arm over Angelina as if I could somehow shield her.

The passageway wasn’t far ahead, and I prayed that we weren’t too late, that they hadn’t been sealed up already.
Please let us gain entrance!

When we reached the stairs that led beneath the street, Angelina and I went first, with Sydney right behind us. Max waited at the top, making certain that we’d all made it safely below. I didn’t wait for him to catch up.

Ahead of me, I could see the set of double doors already sealed shut, a pair of uniformed men in blue standing guard before them.

For the first time, I thought of Max’s uniform and wondered why he was still with us, if there wasn’t someplace else he
should be while the city was under attack. I wondered if he had abandoned his duty to be with us.

I rushed forward, practically falling over my own feet in my panic to get to the shelter beyond the doors. The burning muscles of my arms were screaming at me to set my sister down, to force her to walk on her own two feet, but again, I couldn’t make myself do it. I needed to feel her against me. She was all that kept me going.

Before we could reach the doors, one of the men stepped forward, holding out his hand in warning, motioning us to stay back. “There’s no more room. You’ll have to find shelter elsewhere.”

My heart twisted and despair strangled me, making it difficult to speak. “We—we can’t go back out there. It’s too dangerous on the streets.” I took a step closer, hoping they could hear me.

The second guard, a man with copper-red hair and sallow skin, fingered the trigger of his weapon, a rifle that he held across his thin chest. It was a grave warning. “That’s not our problem. The tunnels are full.”

My mother’s words haunted me, her pleas that I take care of Angelina at all costs.

I ignored my instincts and took another step in their direction. “At least let her inside,” I begged, pulling Angelina away from me. She fought me, struggling to hold on, but I was stronger than she was, and I pried her fingers free. “She’s small, and she won’t take up any space at all. Please.”

Angelina’s breath caught as I shook her off. My heart was breaking, but I couldn’t let her see that. I had to be strong.

The red-haired guard, the one with the gun, moved so suddenly that all I could do was watch in stunned silence. He shifted his rifle to his shoulder, readying and aiming it with lightning speed. I didn’t have time to stoop out of the way. All I could do was reach for Angelina and drag her back to me.

Sydney gasped, reminding me that she was still with us.

I stared at the weapon, blinking, my chest squeezing as I lifted my hand. “I—I’m s-sorry.” My voice shook as violently as my hand. “We d-don’t want trouble.”

I heard Max’s footsteps rushing up behind me, but I didn’t turn around, even when I felt his hand grip my shoulder. I kept all my attention on the rifle instead, as I took first one, and then another, cautious step backward, easing Angelina behind me.

But it was the actions of the first guard that confused me most of all, as a look of alarm flashed briefly across his face, and then he moved even faster than the red-haired man had. His arm shot out sideways, his fingers curling over the shaft of the gun as he twisted hard, disarming the red-haired sentry in one swift motion. The guard, who had just moments earlier held a weapon aimed at my heart, looked stunned by the sudden turn of events.

He opened his mouth to say something, to protest, but the first guard cut him off with a scathing glare, making it more than clear which of the pair was in charge.

And then the first guard reached for the door. He opened it and stepped aside, indicating that we could pass. All of us.

I snapped my head around to glance at Max, to see if he understood what had just happened, but he was already
shoving Sydney through the doorway, and I could no longer see his face.

I picked up Angelina and followed the two of them, casting a wary glimpse at the guards as we passed.

Behind us, the doors closed again.

The first thing I was aware of was the darkness. It wasn’t complete, this darkness, but it was broken only in places by the flicker of lanterns and the pale glow of handheld lights. Definitely not enough to see where I was walking.

Once again, I was thankful for Max’s pocket light so we could pick our way through the overcrowded platforms in search of a place to rest.

That was the second thing I noticed: the people. Everywhere. Crammed together.

It was quieter down here, below the streets. Away from the sirens. But there was a hushed desperation that filled every ounce of space, every recess, making even the air feel thicker and harder to breathe. I could smell the worry.

We stepped carefully, avoiding legs and feet in our path, the small light’s beam scanning for an opening where we could stop and rest. When I could bear it no longer, I set Angelina down, squeezing her fingers tightly in an unspoken assurance that I wouldn’t release her. I pushed her in front of me, keeping her back pressed against me, my free hand on her shoulder to guide her.

When it became clear that we wouldn’t find a spot on the platforms, Max turned his light downward, onto the oily,
dirt-caked tracks below. Faces stared back at us from the shaft of light, and Max moved it quickly over them, scanning, searching.

“There,” he finally said, pointing the light toward an opening. Although it was less an opening than it was a slight gap in the mass of people huddled atop the gravel on the far side of the unused tracks.

I agreed, it seemed the best we’d be able to do. And even though it would be a tight fit, at least we could all stay together.

Max dropped down from the platform, his feet crunching in the loose rocks below as he found a narrow space to stand between the bodies. He reached for Sydney’s hand, and I hated the twinge of jealousy I felt at seeing them touch again.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because next he was reaching for Angelina. She went to him, this time without hesitation, and I was surprised by her willingness to trust him so easily, so soon. She was normally reserved, careful with whom she let down her guard. Yet her instincts were infallible.

Even in the shadows, I saw the sliver of a smile on her lips as Max set her gently to the ground. And then she reached for Sydney’s hand while she waited for me.

If not for the fear of stepping on someone below me in the darkness, I wouldn’t have waited for Max to help me down—I would have jumped myself. But I couldn’t see where I would land, so I was forced to place my hand in his.

He pulled me toward him and I landed in his arms, my body sliding down the length of his. Suddenly I was aware of everything about him, his strength, the heat of his body against mine, his hands at my hips as he gradually drew me down—far
slower, I thought, than necessary for the task. Fire burst from the core of me and shot through my veins as I told myself that none of this mattered. None of it was real.

My hands were at his shoulders, and my thumbs brushed against his neck, and even that simple contact, that stroke of bare skin against bare skin, made me blush all over. A wanting shiver clutched me in its grasp.

When my toes touched the gravel beneath me, a sigh escaped my lips that I fervently prayed he hadn’t heard, although I wasn’t sure how he could have missed it. He was only a breath away from me.

For several beats too long, he continued to hold me pressed against him, his palms flat against my back, and I didn’t move away. I vaguely wondered what we looked like to anyone watching us—to Sydney and Angelina. But still, I stayed rooted where I was, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my cheek.

Someone near my feet coughed, and then I heard whispers, sounds that had been there all along, but that I had only just noticed.

I shuffled backward, just one tiny step, but that space between us felt infinite. His hands dropped from my back and mine fell from his chest, and we parted as I went to join Angelina, taking her hand from the other girl.

I was too ashamed of myself to make eye contact with either of them.

Max took the lead again, directing us to the small opening on the ground. It was smaller than it had looked from the platform, but several people moved aside to make a little more room for us. Thanks to their shifting, there was just enough
space for one person to lean against the rough brick wall. The rest of us would have to sit up straight in the gravel or lean against one another.

One look at Sydney, and there was no question that she was the one who needed to rest. Dark rivers of drying blood crept down the side of her cheek, and her skin looked gray even in the gloom. She fell into the spot, letting her head collapse back against the bricks. I eased myself onto the crushed rocks with my legs crossed, creating a nest for Angelina, who slipped easily onto my lap. Max sat beside me, his shoulder pressed right against mine.

I could feel every breath he took, could feel the strength in the muscles that rippled down his arms.

On the other side of me, I brushed against a man’s back as he guarded over a woman and three small children.

I shot a sheepish glance Max’s way, feeling suddenly speechless and uncomfortable, neither of which I was accustomed to. Angelina tipped her head back, looking first to me and then to Max, watching each of us silently in turn.

When she was satisfied—and comfortable—she leaned against my chest, and I saw her pull Muffin from her inside jacket pocket. She tucked the doll beneath her chin, using it as a makeshift pillow, and her breathing slowed.

“She’s tough, isn’t she?”

I narrowed my eyes at Max’s statement, a small smile finding its way to my lips. Angelina was tiny and fragile-looking, and she never spoke, but all of that was deceiving. She was whip-smart and took in everything around her. I’d always known that about her, even when everyone else underestimated her.

She never missed a thing, and she
was
strong. In my mind I thought of her as a fighter, a scrapper. Little, but wily and resilient.

Funny that Max had noticed it too.

“Yeah, she is,” I answered. “As long as we’re together, I think she’ll be okay.”

“I want to thank you.” Sydney’s voice interrupted us, surprising me because I half expected her to be sleeping already. She looked worn, battered. “For back there, at the park . . . when you saved me from being crushed by those people.” She glanced down at her hands, guilt evident on her face. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not sure I would have done the same if I were you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I still wasn’t sure why I’d done it; it wasn’t as if I hadn’t fantasized about worse things happening to her and the other kids at her school. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything to deserve my sympathy.

Except that she was still a person. Cruel and nasty, perhaps, but no one deserved to be trampled like that.

Not even her.

She turned her eyes toward me, tears making them glisten in the faint glow of a far-off lantern, and somehow I forgot to hate her. Somehow I managed to erase all the terrible things she had said to me in the past, how she’d reminded me, time and time again, that I was of a lower class than she and her Academy friends.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a tear slipping free and tracing a path to her chin. She swiped at it, frowning. “I hope you’ll forgive me.” Then she leaned forward, her hand extended to me. “I’m Sydney. Sydney Leonne.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to decide if I should respond, but wondering whether there was really any decision to make. Hadn’t I already made my choice when I’d pulled her to safety instead of running away?

I accepted her hand, startled that her fingers felt so much like my own. She was just a girl. An ordinary girl, alone and frightened. “I’m Charlie. And this,” I explained, pointing to the bundle in my lap, “is my sister, Angelina.”

Angelina lifted her head, letting us know that she was still awake . . . still listening. Then she settled back down without saying a word.

“I’m sorry. About everything. I didn’t know you. I didn’t realize—” Sydney was nervous, and I was glad it made her uneasy to admit to what she’d done in the past.

I didn’t say anything to make it easier for her, I just waited.

She shrugged. “If I could change things . . .” I could almost hear her sigh; I could feel the tension of her regret. “Anyway, I’m really sorry.”

I just nodded; it was all I could do. I couldn’t tell her that it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Max sat quietly, and I wondered how much he knew, or at least suspected. Up until now, he’d been more perceptive than I cared to admit. Did he remember that Sydney was the girl from my parents’ restaurant that night? Or did he pick up on the fact that we had a history that went back farther than that? Did he recognize all that her quiet apologies meant?