Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(77)

But that’s only one of my problems. The other is that I think I’m starting to forget things. It started before we left Sector One, when I couldn’t make up my mind about showering or leaving, when the answer should have been obvious. When I went the wrong way trying to leave Sector One. Then again when I couldn’t remember where the rebreathers were or if it was the red button or the gray one that activated them. Now I don’t remember which way to go to get to the submersibles. I’m going to have to rely on Gavin’s memory.

I don’t want to concern him, though, so I just pretend I’m letting him go ahead so he can protect me. Of course, some of my confusion might be due to the fact I’ve never really been over to this side of the city. It’s nothing like my part. It’s dirty and grimy. The concrete walls, normally a pewter color, are dark with something that looks like soot.

My finger comes back covered in the black stuff when I run it down one of the walls. The stuff is slippery and grainy, grease of some sort. I sniff it and wrinkle my nose. It smells like oil.

The smell reminds me of someone. A boy, about my age. Blond hair and blue eyes. Hard, rough hands. Strong. The perfect Suitor for me. I’m sure I know him. A name floats in my mind, then flits away before I can grasp at it, but the vision of wind chimes appears before my eyes.

My smile falls when another vision replaces the chimes. A vision of pain and blood. Lots of blood. I stare at my hands and instead of the greasy dirt they’re covered in blood.

I gasp and wipe them over and over on my dress, but it’s no good because it’s covered in blood, too.

Gavin turns around from farther down the hall. “Everything okay?”

The vision fades and I lift my gaze to him. What was I doing again?

He frowns and steps toward me. “Evie. You okay?”

I nod, slowly. “My life is just about perfect.”

His eyebrows wing up. “That’s good.” He takes my hand, and kisses my palm. The contact clears the fuzziness in my head.

I frown at him. “What’s going on? Why did we stop?”

He sighs. “You had a small episode.”

I groan. “Again?” Then I panic. “What happened? Did I try to hurt you?” I pat my hands over his body, looking for damage.

He pulls my hands away and holds them by the wrists with his hands. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about you. Are you really okay? You looked terrified and in pain.”

I pull a hand away and press it to my forehead. It feels like someone is trying to dig their way out of my head. “I’m fine. I can’t remember what happened.”

He watches me for several seconds. “Okay, well, let’s keep going, all right? We’re not too far from where the map said the subs are.”

I nod and follow behind him again. When we turn the corner, I notice a metallic scent. That click goes off in my head again and every muscle in my body tenses, ready to spring into action. Gavin’s body stiffens, too, so I know I’m not imagining it. We walk cautiously ahead. Our senses are tuned to every noise, every shadow.

Without warning, the lights flicker and go out throughout the complex. The red emergency lights stay lit, but ahead the hallway is dark. I reach into my pack and pull out my flashlight pin.

When I click it on, the light cuts through the darkness. It’s actually brighter than the lights that would have lit the hallway, but it isn’t big enough to dispel all of the gloom.

We keep our guard up, sticking close together. Our arms brush together, and at first I have to fight the urge to jerk my arm away. I bite my tongue, hoping the pain will be enough to distract me from my homicidal thoughts, but it isn’t until he squeezes my hand—a simple gesture of his promise to protect me—that I’m able to push the thoughts to the side.

I can’t fight this much longer. I hope we reach the submersibles soon.

After a few minutes, he releases my hand and I have to resist the urge to grab out for him again. It’s the only thing grounding me from going crazy, but we can’t take the chance of holding hands. We don’t know what’s ahead.

Suddenly my foot slides in something wet and I almost fall to the ground. I throw my hands out to the side to catch myself with the walls.

When I lift my foot, my shoe makes a sucking sound. I tap Gavin on the shoulder, then point to the floor. “There’s something here,” I say.

He nods and stands watch over me, while I kneel to shine the small light onto the floor, careful not to let my knee dip into whatever the sticky mess is. It’s a puddle of something dark red, almost purple. I tilt my head, then stick my finger in it and bring it nearer to me to study. It’s slightly tacky, like wet glue or drying paint.

Bringing it to my nose, I sniff at it. It has a metallic scent, like rust. Then it hits me. I know exactly what this is. It bothers me that it took me that long to figure it out.

When I turn to show Gavin, he’s already staring at the puddle with a look of horror on his face. “Blood?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“What from?” He pulls out an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit in one of the packs and wipes my whole hand down, then helps me to stand, pulling me away as far from the puddle as he can.

“I don’t know. But it’s a lot.”

As one, we both look down the hall. I shiver and Gavin, wordlessly, takes his gun out, making sure it’s loaded. There’s a click when he releases the safety.