To Be Free (21 page)

I nod, and Quinn mirrors the
gesture after a moment. I'm resting my forearms on the table, and
he's got his crossed over his chest loosely.

“
Okay, so the
preparations include getting some false IDs for you and some
documents, a ride and some supplies. This gets you across the
border, and from there you decide how you do things.” Pausing a
moment, she looks to the map spread out on the table. “Our guy who
takes care of the documents also gets the car and brings the whole
lot over to you, and where that is depends entirely on the decision
you make. We have two ways to see you go as far up as you can
without suspicion and before the Vigils start asking for
papers.”

Quinn leans forward, arching an
eyebrow.

“
How close
are we talking?”

She smiles a lopsided grin,
pressing her index finger on the map. We both sit up to look at the
place she's indicating, and when I notice the name of the city her
fingertip is affirming I have to bite back the wave of hope clawing
up my very being from my feet to my scalp. My fingers, of their own
accord, tighten their hold on the table.

Seattle, Washington.

Only 140 miles between there
and freedom. Two hours' drive.

We both look back at her, sure
she's pulling our leg, but she just smiles warmly at us.

“
There's a
little home not far from there that Janice's grandmother left to
her in her will, so we use that home for these sorts of things
while we wait to sort out the legal matters and falsify your
existence, to put it simply,” she clarifies, and Quinn and I can't
help but look at each other, wide-eyed. I swear, only this man
could make it so that we'd luck out like this. “The only thing is
that, during your stay there should you decide to take this option,
you must not leave the place and you must temporarily alter your
most defining features – such as hair, eye colour and
height.”

We sit back down, sobering up;
although, the idea that we'd be so close to the end makes my blood
sing and fidget slightly in my seat until I force myself to calm
down.

“
The second
option, the one some tend to opt for, is to remain here while the
papers are being drawn up, and to then make their way to the border
on their own time,” she states, and at this option we look at
one-another again, frowning.

“
What's the
survival percentage of those who choose the second?” I ask, not too
sure I want to hear the answer. “The one for the first option, too.
What is it?”

Melissa bites her lower lip,
looking down to the book on the table in front of her and opening
the pages, the weathered paper protesting only slightly as she
opens it to a list of names, more than half of them scratched
out.

“
Those who
remained here were either on their own or travelling in larger
groups than yours, which made transferring them to the house more
difficult,” she begins, sighing as her eyes tumble down the list of
names. “The larger groups, of three, four and sometimes even
five... well; I can only tell you that perhaps four of those groups
made it through alive. The larger the group, the harder it is to
safely pass.”

She looks genuinely upset as
she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“
The others
had fairer chances. I'd say seventy-eight percent of them got
through alive – the others just didn't know how to survive, and to
be honest it's a miracle they'd gotten this far to begin with.
Their abilities were either underdeveloped and they couldn't
control them, or they were dormant,” she sighs, closing the book
and looking back at us. “In comparison, those who chose to go to
Seattle had a higher chance, having only to go a small distance.
I'd say ninety-three this time, if only because crossing the border
is harder and harder with each passing year.”

Then Melissa leans her chin on
her curled fingers, looking at us.

“
You both
have curious abilities – untapped potential, and lots of it by the
looks of it – and you can control them, with varying degrees of
side-effects. If you had to use them at the border, I highly
believe you'd manage to cross and you'd be able to find a safe
place to rest.”

I look at Quinn, noticing how
concentrated he looks. It's an insane decision, and those more
cautious would decide on remaining here. Yet... the idea of being
so close and only having to wait two weeks at the most is tempting
– and with our skills and abilities, I think we'd be able to
survive. For those two weeks, we could probably even try to learn
to control them more effectively.

“
How do we
get there in the first place?” he inquires, worrying his lower
lip.

“
It's a
seven-hour drive from here to Seattle, and before we'd leave we
would have to tweak your appearances a bit. Have you dye your hair
or wear a wig; wear coloured contact lenses; higher shoes... the
whole works.”

“
What option,
in your opinion, would work best for us?” I ask, and Quinn looks at
me as the same time she turns her attention onto me. Fidgeting, I
clarify. “I mean, I know that we'll have to talk it through with
one-another a bit before we come to a consensus, that's for sure –
unless Quinn decides he'd rather do this leg of the journey on his
own, in which case this is irrelevant – but, from what you've
learned and observed from us, what do you think would be
best?”

This time Melissa sighs,
leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms as she thinks,
frowning. Closing her eyes, she answers my inquiry.

“
You two
would survive with relative ease in Seattle – you escaped the
facility, a feat very few, if any, can boast about; you also have
gifts I can't even begin to wrap my head around. You two could also
benefit from some time alone together, without fear of having to
Run during that time... you both have things to work out together,
from what I can tell.” Opening her eyes, she gives us a piercing
stare that roots us to our seats. “We have methods of keeping Recon
One off your tails, so you can breathe easy during that time. They
won't be a concern for you during that time, but we're only able to
keep it up for about two weeks at a time before they catch
on.”

She then gets to her feet,
brushing nonexistent dust from her pants before offering us both a
warm smile again.

“
I'll leave
you both to talk about it for a bit, and come join us upstairs once
you're done,” she tells us, waving with a smile before leaving us
in the vast, suddenly suffocating room.

I sit there beside Eleven,
tense for a reason I don't quite understand. Avoiding his figure
entirely, I instead look at the table and bite my lower lip,
wishing nothing more than to be anywhere but here.

There's something big bothering
him, and I'm afraid to find out.

Without warning, Quinn gets to
his feet and turns my chair around so that it faces him, and he
completely ignores my cry of protest. Instead, he grips the
armrests and looms over me almost threateningly. I find myself
trapped in his gaze, unable to tear away, and I swallow
thickly.

The glare
he's shooting down at me completely immobilizes me, and pulls
numerous reactions out of me. Silently I curse myself for being so
powerless, for being so
human
, and for finding it kind of...
well, in a word, hot.

Welcome to my life.

“
What gave
you the idea that I'd
ever
want to go my own way for this last part?” he
growls, and his voice hints at a frightening amount of self-control
as he leans in, close enough for our noses to almost touch. “That
I'd
ever
want to
leave you behind – especially when it comes to the moment when we
need one-another now the most. Give me
one
good reason
why I shouldn't thrash you,
Sebastian, or so help me I'll beat you to a bloody
pulp.”

Oh, I remember this. It's
exactly like when he told me he wanted me to trust him, that he
wouldn't stick around if I couldn't bring myself to trust him even
a little. Different circumstance, same principle.

In both, I underestimate
him.

The future isn't set in stone.
It's constantly changing – what a seer might see one day will not
be the same as what he sees a week from now.

Again, my arrogance surfaced
and I failed to trust him. Once more, he's called me out on my
bullshit.

Against my will, my lips tug
into a smile and I relax in my seat, sighing softly as I smile up
at him. He pauses, confused.

“
Once again,
you put me in my place after I assume we're so different we'll
never harmonize,” I admit, hands rising to grip his biceps gently,
for something to touch. Quinn relaxes slightly in my touch. “You
remind me we're equals. It's just... my dreams, lately, and my
waking moments, have been showing me the future, Quinn. I've seen
so many things, the end of our journey in so many different lights
– both good and bad. I've seen you part ways with me here and at
the border; I've seen us fall in battle... I've been told that it
has to do with my potential, that aspect of my gift that can only
come to be under a specific circumstance.”

He kneels on the ground in
front of my chair, and my hands slip to his on the armrests,
squeezing them lightly. Curiously, his eyes tell me to continue
even though he remains silent.

“
You have
one, too, you know. Mine... just had a special circumstance I
wasn't quite aware of until recently, and I sort of have you to
thank for it,” I continue, smiling warmly to my beloved. His
eyebrows furrow, and I free a hand to press the confusion away from
his features. “If you had not believed me when I spoke my story,
had not given me the chance to begin healing after so long, I
wouldn't be able to begin controlling my abilities.”

Quinn closes
his eyes as my hand slips down his face, thumb brushing over his
cheekbone and fingers dragging down along his jaw, my thumb
pressing lightly as it ghosts over his lower lip. Smiling against
the digit as I drag it over his chapped lips, he mouths the
words
I love you
against the pad of my thumb, opening his curious hazel eyes
and locking them with mine.

I breathlessly voice the same
affirmation, and he smiles up at me.

“
As much fun
as it sounds to lurk around here for two weeks,” he begins in a
soft whisper, arching an eyebrow. I mirror the gesture, earning a
shove to my knee, “I'd rather spend that time together. For all we
know, it could be...”

I press my hand to his mouth,
silencing him before he can finish the sentence. Blinking up at me
curiously, I lean forward and replace my palm with my lips,
effectively shutting him up. When I pull back, I frown at him.

“
I'm the
pessimist,” I state, and at that he laughs, nodding. “Let's cross
that bridge when we get there, alright? For now, let's go upstairs
and tell them what we've decided on before they think we're up to
something curious.”

• I Wish I
  May, I Wish I Might
  

QUINN

Seb ends up
sleeping
through the latter half of the
drive upstate, all through the ferry ride until Janice asks me to
wake him up as we drive down a very deserted road, surrounded by
tress in its entirety. He lifts his head up from my shoulder,
looking up groggily and rubbing at his eyes before he yawns. The
SUV hits a pothole and the vehicle jumps, making him swear softly
just as the trees thin out and give us the view of the secluded
lot.

I whistle lowly, and Seb's just
trying to make sense of where he is and how he got here. Melissa
pulls the car to a stop in the driveway, and both women get out to
start bringing in the load of supplies in the back. I step out,
looking at the old house with nothing short of awe – out of all
things, I wasn't expecting anything like this.

The house is a two-storey
Victorian, the outer walls covered in stones of varying sizes. Once
I take two of the bags and help them bring it up, I look around
some more, the same way Nine's doing.

We step up onto a pale piazza,
a balcony swing set idling nearby and sitting near a few park
benches lined along the white guardrail rising up at regular
intervals to hold the overhang in place. The large French windows
have the curtains drawn shut, refusing all a look inside, but that
quickly rights itself when Janice unlocks the double doors for the
entry and steps in, and I take one last look to the layout of the
lot – the trees growing in the yard, some bearing fruit; the
various species of flowers; and a stone path wrapping to the back
of the house.

Then I step inside, Melissa
leaving back for the last item still in the trunk as Seb and I kick
off our boots and follow Janice through the lower floor.

The vestibule is painted a pale
green and spits us out into the hall, the left featuring a large
set of stairs leading to the second level. The floor we walk on is
made of dark wood with interesting designs lacing through it, and
we pass an open doorway into a lavish parlour. Skirting past that
for another time, we make our way through the large dining room
featuring a large mahogany table and an impressive light fixture
hanging over it, and through the doorway there into the kitchen.
Seb and I had left the other bags by the staircase as per her
instructions, and we help her put everything away into the fridge
and cupboards, the lights offering a warm glow.

Once that's all settled and
Melissa's brought in the last load, the blonde heads upstairs to
take care of the other bags while Janice gives us a tour.