Where We Go | Book Three

44. The Biggest Question in the Universe

Chris mirrored Rose and pushed back his chair. "Don't let them in?" 

His eyes were frantic, and his nostrils flared. Even Pilot seemed concerned by how much his chest was heaving with his breaths.

"We don't have a choice," Lucy replied calmly. "It's part of the agreement."

"You have an agreement?" Chris stressed.

"This is how we live here, how we survive," she explained. "They help us, and we help them. Nothing changes just because you lot turned up."

Lucy turned to her mum. "Are they here about more smoke? Or herds?"

"I don't think they're here for a chat." Rose shook her head, wrapping her cardigan around herself as she stepped towards the door. "Em, might I suggest you find somewhere suitable to hide... I'll do the best I can."

"Thank you," I whispered. "I am sorry for this, truly."

"Go down to the basement," Lucy ordered as the door closed. "There are enough places to hide down there. It's all storage."

"You're not coming with us?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I have to go help Mum with this. I've got my family too."

"Is there nowhere outside the gates?" Pilot questioned. "Wouldn't it be safer?"

"They'll be patrolling the wall," Lucy said. "They do every time they show up... For that exact reason."

Ben grabbed my hand to follow Lucy. "Come on."

"My contact lenses in the room," I exclaimed, whipping my head around. "They're on the table."

"Chris, go hide them." Ben turned over his shoulder.

He nodded. "Be careful."

Lucy opened the door to the basement and pointed down the stone steps. The cold breeze pulled around us and the smell of damp grew more pungent the lower we descended. 

Ben pointed a finger towards a stack of wooden crates in the far corner of the room. I ducked down first, and he tucked himself in beside me, pressing his body closer to mine. One hand rested against my back, and the other gripped the edge of the crate, steadying himself to keep watch on the door.

"This is all such a fucking mess," I whispered.

His hand moved against my back, caressing gently. "We're handling it," he said softly. Turning his head to me, he smirked. "It could be worse?"

I cocked my head. "How?"

"You could be doing all of this without me," he scoffed.

I shoved against his shoulder. "Hilarious," I rolled my eyes. 

He turned his attention back to the stairs and I watched his body shift. He would flinch at the smallest sound, his body making involuntary reactions to noises he could barely hear. His brows danced with the movement of his eyes, mirroring each other in unison. He was more focused than I'd ever seen him, more scared than he'd ever been. I couldn't help but focus on him and only him. The way his jaw tightened and clenched with the grip of his fingers on the crate, the way his lashes blinked more frequently when he was trying to listen closer. And his lips... his lips were pressed together in a thin line. I wanted to reach a finger out and touch them, to smooth the creases and soften his tightened expression.

"Are you afraid of dying?" I whispered.

He turned his gaze from the stairs, furrowing his brows like I'd spoken another language. "I thought I was," he said finally. His stare began to dance across my eyes. "I mean, before all of this I think I definitely was..."