Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(21)

“There are no rats,” Linc repeats. Then to Obadiah, “Give me your flashlight.”

Obadiah hands it over. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your own. Aren’t you supposed to always be prepared? Like a boy scout?”

“What’s a boy scout?” I ask. No one answers me.

Linc clicks the button and the beam of light disappears. He hands it back. “You told us not to draw attention. That the floor vents sometimes run along the wall down here, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Obadiah shrugs and tucks the flashlight in the waistband of his pants. “I forgot.”

Linc shakes his head before leading the way down the passage that veers left. “Come on,” he says, pulling me gently forward with our joined hands.

We shuffle along in the darkness, single file, our feet sliding to find our way. I reach back and find Obadiah’s hand with my free one. He clings to it as we walk. When the passageway curves, I tug on Obadiah’s hand so he won’t run into the wall.

Finally, we reach the door at the end. It’s covered in grime and there is no knob but I know it is a door because I’ve walked through it six times before today. Only six because, in order to come, my GPS must be redirected and with Titus constantly watching, that’s nearly impossible.

I need something better than the scrambler. I have no idea what.

Obadiah comes every few days. He updates me via text mostly, in a coded language we’ve developed. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s the reason we found this place and the reason no one else has.

Linc fumbles and then finds what he’s looking for. He pushes on a spot on the left edge of the door and the metal depresses to reveal a latch. He turns it to the right and the door swings open. It’s almost completely silent on its aged hinges thanks to the oil Morton regularly applies.

We step through and Obadiah secures the door behind us. Light filters from up ahead. Even though it is dim, I blink at the suddenness of it after all that blackness. My eyes adjust and we move toward it instead of taking the side passage to our right. That way leads to more tunnels, connecting this block of warehouses through an underground maze of passages, according to Obadiah. His family has owned this entire block and the next for generations. He suspects they used them to run drugs and girls years ago but now they are forgotten. We hope.

I was appalled when he’d explained what “running girls” meant. But I am glad for the tunnels.

At the end of the hall, we turn left and stop short when Anna steps out of the first doorway. She smiles when she sees us. “You’re here,” she says, clapping her hands. “I was beginning to wonder.”

I catch sight of the hole in Anna’s arm where her GPS used to be. It is red at the edges but it looks much better than it did a month ago. The infection has healed and the wound has closed. It is already scarring but no one cares about that. Not if it means she is free of her device.

Free of the Creator.

Staring at Anna’s arm, I am so aware of the implant in my own, I can almost feel it pulsing. What would it be like to remove it? To be free? The idea of that makes me breathless. To go anywhere I want without being monitored. To do anything I want without having to answer for it feels like such an impossibility. I squeeze Linc’s hand tighter to drown out the longing that tugs at my heart.

He squeezes back as if he knows where my thoughts have gone.

“Did you guys get the shipment I sent?” Obadiah asks.

He stays behind me as he talks. Anna still makes him nervous. Understandable since she was the accomplice to an attack that left him unconscious and bleeding from the head two months ago. Anna doesn’t seem to notice Obadiah’s hesitation with her. Or if she does, she ignores it.

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes light up as she looks back at Obadiah. “Fresh bread! It was more than we’ve had here in months. Thank you!”

Obadiah smiles a little. “You’re welcome. I don’t know when I can do that again, so enjoy.”

I turn to Obadiah. “How did you get fresh bread?”

“I have my ways,” he says with a hint of a grin.

“Please tell me you didn’t send a delivery driver here,” Linc says.

“I’m not completely incompetent,” Obadiah says, his voice rising in defense. At Linc’s wry look, he adds, “I had a delivery boy leave it at the loading docks of another warehouse. Anna and the others picked it up there and brought it back here during the night.”

Linc frowns but lets it go.

“Thank you,” I tell Obadiah, letting my tone convey my gratitude. I love him so much more for his compassion for the Imitations here. He takes care of them in ways I cannot. Not while I am under Titus’s scrutiny daily.

“Of course. I’m just glad you shared your secret with me,” Obadiah says.

I nod because, while it terrified me at first, I am glad now too. I’d dreaded it, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I knew the danger it would put him in. And he’d had enough close calls because of me already. “Stop worrying,” he says, his smile dimming as he takes in my expression.

“How do you know I’m worrying?”

“Because you’re always worrying,” he says. “And because I can tell by your expression. You really need to work on that, you know.”

I sigh. “I know.”