In The Afterlight (The Darkest Minds #3)(91)

“Five minutes,” Cole warned. “Are you heading out?”

I jogged to the nearest door, looking inside. The wooden bunks creaked as weight shifted on them, and faces squinted at me. I reached in and turned the lights on so they’d have a better view of my face. The stench of sweat rolled out, slamming into me before the whimpers and whispers of fear came. Dozens of small faces emerged from the dark, hands held up to shield their eyes.

Oh my God.

They were wearing those thin, papery uniforms, coded by whatever color they’d been classified as. I felt my stomach start to churn. One girl turned, flashing the Psi ID number someone had hastily scrawled across the back of her shirt in permanent marker. These were really kids—nine, ten, eleven, twelve, with only a few clearly older than fourteen. All of them with those hollow cheeks, carved out by hunger. Narrowed by need—if not for food, then for everything else.

“You made it!” The longer I stared at the boy that pushed his way to the door of Room Three, the harder it was for me to believe that it was Pat. They’d shaved down his dark mass of hair, stripped him down to a blue scratchy cotton T-shirt and shorts. He’d been here less than a week and already he’d let his edges bleed into the darkness of this place.

All at once, the boys in Tommy’s room gasped and reached for him as he stepped into the hall, pleading him in these small voices to come back.

At night, you don’t leave the cabin, one of the older girls in Cabin 27 had told me. You don’t leave, even if it’s burning down. They’ll just say you were trying to escape, and that’s the only reason they need to shoot you.

None of the other kids followed Tommy and Pat out.

My mind scrambled to come up with something to avoid us having to carry them out.

“My name is Ruby,” I said, quickly, “and I’m one of you. All of us here are like you, except for the woman with the camera. We’re getting you out of here—taking you to somewhere safe. But we have to move fast. Fast as you can, without hurting yourselves or anyone around you. Follow them—” I pointed to Gonzo and Ollie. “Fast, fast, fast, okay?”

Dammit—they still weren’t moving. We weren’t moving, and time was ticking down so loudly in my ears, I couldn’t distinguish the seconds from my heartbeat. I opened my mouth, wondering what else I could say to them. What were the words that had convinced me to take the pills Cate had offered? Or had I just realized it was my last chance of ever getting out?

For them, maybe, it was a matter of shock—we’d come charging in so quickly, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the reality of it.

“Rosa?” I called. “Rosa Cruz? Is there a Rosa Cruz here?”

No one spoke or raised their hands, but I saw a small movement out of the corner of my eye—a shifting that was as subtle as someone straightening up. I took a step around Tommy, scanning the ten faces of Room Six. There was a girl at the back—nearly as tall as I was, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She must have had long, glossy curls at one point in her life, but someone had gone to town hacking it all off. I didn’t see a trace of Senator Cruz in her face, aside from the warm olive tone of her skin and her dark eyes. But when she tilted her head and shifted her gaze toward me, defying her fear, just for that second—that was all her mother.

“Rosa,” I said. “Your mom is waiting for you.”

She flinched at the sudden attention, but after a deep breath, she stepped out of her pitch-black room like she was tearing away from the last grip of a nightmare. Rosa’s hands clenched at her sides. Her breathing came hard and fast as her eyes darted around.

“Look at me,” I told her, holding out my hand. “Just at me. This is really happening. I’ll get you out of here. Okay?”

Okay. Her trembling, cold fingers touched the tips of mine, sliding into place. The tension bunching her shoulders didn’t relax until my grip on her tightened. The other girls in her room flowed out behind her, and it was only then that the other kids lost that last bit of hesitation and followed.

“Home base,” I said, pressing my earpiece. “Initiating evac.”

“Two minutes,” Cole said, sounding a hell of a lot more stressed than I felt. This was good. They were coming with us. They trusted us. The gratitude I felt for that small fact made my eyes prick with tears.

The others followed, lining up one by one and moving quickly. Feet slapped against the tile, smearing out the puddle of wet paint that had drifted from the forgotten can. Some of them stopped to look at the two bound PSFs, but there was no laughter, no smiles, no cheers—of course not. It must have felt like they were moving through a dream.

I guided Rosa into the line, glancing at the wall where the soldiers had been writing out that message. The kids leaned against it and used it to brace themselves as they rounded the corner down into the stairwell, smearing that same red paint, tracking their hands and fingerprints through it. Alice stood frozen in front of it, lifting her camera one last time.

It was the last clear, still image I had before the night sped up, gliding into a blur that carried us down the stairs, down the main hall, and out the very same door we had come through. The blast of cold air washed away the pounding heat from my blood. I shook the fear off, and I let myself imagine it—how good it would feel when this was Thurmond we were walking out of, when I passed through that gate one last time.