Elites of Eden (Children of Eden #2)(45)

There is a brief moment when I recognize streets I walked along with Lark, and the memory brings a pang. I look at each face, thinking I might see her. But she’d be in school, and wouldn’t recognize me in this uniform, and I couldn’t dare approach her even if I saw her.

Then Lachlan’s pace quickens, and he leads me through streets at such a pace that I get disoriented again.

Suddenly he says, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I say at once, not even thinking about whether it is true. People keep asking me that.

“Then follow me.”

He pulls me abruptly down a side street, kicks a loose grate aside, and points to what looks to me like a bottomless black pit. It is only just wider than my shoulders. I take an inadvertent step back.

“Don’t think. Don’t question. Just jump.” He looks a little excited, like he’s wondering what I’ll do, whether I’ll disappoint him.

I’ve never been afraid of climbing. Though I’ll never have an opportunity to climb a mountain, I know for a fact that no matter how high I ascend, it will never bother me. Falling, though, the very antithesis of climbing, scares me to death.

What if this is all a trick, a trap? What if he’s working for the Center and this is a pit to my doom? What easier way to get rid of a second child than to convince her to voluntarily leap to her own death. This might be an abattoir filled with the bodies of . . .

He pushes me.

My hands claw for the edge but I’m falling down . . . down . . . the passage narrows. The sides are perfectly smooth, nothing to grab onto to slow my descent. The walls are closing in. I’m going to be wedged in here forever, left to die . . .

As my body brushes the sides, though, the tunnel begins to slant and instead of falling I’m sliding smoothly. The slide levels out, and before I know it I’m skidding to a gentle stop. Now that it’s over and the adrenaline leeches from my body, I decide it was rather fun. I’d like to do it again—without all the fear of death part.

I find myself in a stone chamber. Stone! Rock! Real natural minerals just like the walls of my own house! This must be an underground cave system. Phosphorescent strips along the floor offer a gentle glow, and I wonderingly examine the whorls and crevices of the cave, the formations that hang like jagged teeth from the ceiling. I’m so lost in the marvelous sight that Lachlan bumps me from behind when he slides down.

“I told you to do exactly what I say,” he tells me brusquely. “There’s no time for indecision in a second child’s life. Any mistake can be your last.”

Then it is a race through twists and turns that leave me baffled. I try to pay attention to our direction—and I try to admire the amazing natural cave system I never knew was under Eden—but Lachlan pulls me along at breakneck speed. Once, I’m sure, he leads me past the same rock formation three times.

It is such an utterly baffling labyrinth down here! I realize that these confusing tunnels are the best layer of security imaginable, probably more effective than armed guards. Even if they found the entrance, which didn’t seem likely, the impossible maze down here would thwart any invader.

Finally he slows, in a passage that looks like every other—arching stone walls, dim lights barely illuminating our feet.

“We’re here,” Lachlan says, and turns to smile at me. “Are you ready? You’re about to meet your brothers and sisters. An entire family of second children.” He takes my hand and squeezes it quickly before releasing it.

I feel my breath coming fast, and smile back. People like me! Second children who have made a life for themselves! I have no idea what kind of life that is, but I am giddy at the thought of finding out.

Lachlan presses a hidden panel in the end of the cavernous chamber and the rock seems to split. A crevice opens up that turns into a door, cleverly hidden in the stone. It creaks slowly open to a black void.

“Go on,” he urges, his smile so joyful and welcoming. I don’t repeat the mistake I made at the pit. Without question, without fear, I step through into the impenetrable darkness.

There’s movement, hands on my body, something heavy and wet forced over my head so I’m trapped, suffocating.

“No! Let her go!” I hear Lachlan bellow. “Rowan! No!” I hear the sound of fighting, but I’m being dragged away. I feel a prick in my arm, and the world goes blurry for a while . . .

When I come to my senses, the heavy bag is still over my head, cinched tight at my neck. I can feel the cords of the drawstring draped over my shoulders.

“She’s awake.” I hear a slosh, and someone dumps freezing water over my head. It soaks through the bag, making it cling tightly to my nose, my mouth. I can’t breathe! When I shake my head, I manage to make a small gap between the canvas and my mouth, just enough to suck in a little air. But it’s not enough, I feel light-headed, drowning on dry land.

“Tell us your name.”

I turn toward the unfamiliar voice. A hand grabs the back of the bag, along with some of my hair, and yanks my head back, exposing my throat. I am exposed, vulnerable. “Where did you get those uniforms? Who is that boy with you?” He shakes me until my teeth rattle. But I say nothing.

For some seemingly endless time they question me, about my own identity, Lachlan’s, where I’m from and where I was headed. I don’t say a word, not even a lie. Not when they slap me hard across the face. Not when they tip me backward under a faucet that sends a steady drip, drip, drip of water onto my nose and mouth. I suck in pitiful amounts of air through the sodden bag, getting more water in my lungs than oxygen.