PRICE OF TRUST

Samantha's POV Alex's hand weight in mine was the only thing keeping me grounded in the here-now. His touch was firm, friendly—reminding me that I was not alone even if the surroundings were colder. Still not yet. But my brain was a tempest of ideas I was unable to flee from. Marcus's choice to stand with Elara, the treachery, the limited escape—all too much. Too rapid. We seemed to be barely hanging on by a thread, and I had no idea how much more time that thread would hold. I clutched Alex's hand and forced myself to talk through the constriction in my throat. "What are we supposed to do now? His eyes seemed far-off, as though he had initially not heard me. Then he turned, his face pulled and exhausted. "We must migrate." The remarks came out as mechanical, pragmatic. He could not hide from me, though, the flutter of uncertainty behind his eyes. That terrified me more than anything; he was breaking exactly as I was. "What if?" I hesitated, aware he would object to hearing this. "What if we fail to translate this? Suppose there is no means to stop them? Alex turned to face me this time, truly looking at me. His mouth closed, and I could see conflict boiling in him. He was not the same man he had been at the beginning of this struggle. None of us were in that regard. Every instant, every crack in his will, I had been there; now it felt as though we were both approaching a breaking point we could not avoid. Quietly, he answered, "I'm not sure." Still, quitting is not a choice. Not if we are to survive. I nodded, but the pit in my gut just became bigger. One aspect of survival was: But for what length of time might we survive without breaking utterly? How long until the continual betrayals and losses were intolerable for either of us? The abandoned structure we had holed ourselves in broken windows shook as the outside wind howled. Reminding us just how small and delicate we were versus the forces tracking us, it felt as though the world was mocking us. The stillness between us got thinner as the hours passed. Alex had gone into a quiet determination, surveilling the area and organizing our next action. I attempted to follow suit, but Marcus kept coming back in my head. His betraying of us astounded me. After all we had gone through, all we had given to believe him—he had selected Elara. For what? Penderity Retribution? I wanted to know why he had done it, to make sense of it, but no justification would seem sufficient. Alex bent down next to me to shock me out of my whirling ideas. "We walk out in five minutes." I nodded, even though I could see his face lined with tiredness. He was struggling to hang onto hope, not only against The Order now. And I understood he was losing that fight as much as I was. But before I could say anything, the door knocked sharply. We stopped both. Neither of us moved for a second; our instincts yelled at us to hide or flee. But then the knock returned, more urgent now. Alex drew his weapon and gestured for me to remain low as he neared the door. The strain in my chest was thick enough to cut with a knife. My heart was hammered in there. Every muscle in my body stiffened, poised for what would come next. He just opened the door a crack, enough to glimpse outside. Then he opened it more broadly with a shocked gaze. Standing there shivering in the cool night air was a seventeen-year-old girl. Her face was splattered with mud, her clothes ripped, and she looked wild and desperate. She said, "Please," her voice was hardly audible. "You have to help me." Though Alex was on edge all the time, his hand never wavering from his weapon, we took her inside. I couldn't attribute responsibility to him. After what happened with Marcus and Elara, we could not afford to freely grant trust. But as I stared at the girl, something in her expression soothed the wariness inside me. She terrified me, really terrified, and her dread reflected my own. "Your name is what? Keeping a soft voice, I asked. She said, "Lena," closely embracing herself. "I... I broke away from them. Based on The Order. The reference to The Order chilled my spine. I gave Alex a brief look. His jaw tightened, yet he nodded for her to keep on. "They took me months ago," Lena remarked, her voice shaking. "I have no idea why either. But I listened to things. I observed stuff. And I knew... I had to leave before it was too late. Her comments came out in a frenzy, as though she feared she wouldn't have another opportunity to speak. Leaching forward, I tried to put together her remarks. "What did you learn??" I asked quietly. She hesitated, her eyes darting about the room as though she expected someone to explode through the door at any moment. "They are searching for something, something they believe will provide them power over every one of us. all around. Though I'm not sure what it is, they are nearing discovery of it. Also when they do... Her voice faded, the terror in her eyes intensifying. Alex murmured a swear under his breath. "We have to relocate." Currently. Lena stayed close to me while we got ready, her eyes wide and full of questions she dared not ask. I couldn't point her finger. After all, we were strangers, and none of us could afford luxury like trust. But there was something about her that drew on my senses and made me want to guard her. Quietly, I added, "We're going to a safe place," giving her a comforting grin. "But we must exercise caution." She nodded, although I could see her tiredness weighing heavily on her. Though I wanted to say more, asking her how she had gotten out of The Order would have taken time. We had to keep going. The evening dragged on as we traveled throughout the forest, the blackness engulfing us from all directions. Between Alex and me, I could see the strain mounting—a tension none of us knew how to release. His voice low as we slung across the underbrush, he whispered, "Do you think we can trust her?" I looked at Lena, who was just ahead of us, a few paces. Her eyes flew frantically at every sound, her shoulders clenched. "I'm not sure. Still, I doubt she is lying. Alex, she is still a child. He groaned and ran a hand over his face. "We have trusted people before; look where it has led us." For that, I lacked a response. She was correct. We had been burned before, and the wounds still showed. But Lena's anxiety felt too real, too intense to discount. Hours later, as dawn started to rise on the horizon, we arrived at an old, deserted factory—the sort of location nobody would have thought to search for us. Though dangerous, it was the best we had. Lena slumped on the chilly concrete floor, her body trembling with tiredness. Alex started locking the doors right away, his motions fast and deliberate as if he were doing anything—anything—would save his head from drifting. I bent down next to Lena to sweep a strand of hair off her face. I murmured, "You did good," and gave her a little smile. These days, you're safe. Her eyes, though, were wide with horror. Her voice quivering, she murmured back, "We're not safe." We will never be safe. Her comments made me shudder, and for a second I questioned whether she was correct. We couldn't outrun a storm if we were all racing from. Later, seated opposite Alex with our backs against the wall, the first light of morning filtered through the broken windows. Since we had arrived, we had not spoken much; both of us were buried in our own thoughts. Suddenly, his voice thick with tiredness, "We cannot keep doing this forever." I skipped the response. I was not sure how to. Deep down, I understood he was right.