I push through the trees with one hand gripping the strap of my bag and the other clutching the map. Every few steps, a branch catches against my jacket, but I barely notice. My thoughts are all over the place.
The voices behind us fade, but I can still hear the Authority officer's words in my head.
Search the area.
They had found the vehicle, and they knew someone had been there. If the tracker had been planted before we abandoned the road, there was no telling how long the Authority had been following us.
Rian moves several feet ahead, scanning the darkness.
"Slow down," I whisper.
He stops immediately and I’m able to catch up.
"What?"
"I need to look at this again," I say, unfolding the map.
The paper is old and creased from being folded and unfolded too many times. My parents had drawn the main roads in dark ink, but the tiny symbol I noticed earlier is almost invisible.
A circle. Three short lines, and beneath it: 17.
I run my finger over the mark, "I've seen this before."
"Where?" Rian asks, looking over my shoulder.
"At home."
He leans closer, "On the walls?"
"Sometimes. My dad used to draw symbols like this when I was little."
"What did they mean?"
"I don't know."
"That's not very helpful."
I give him a look, "I was six."
"Fair,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.
I turn the map sideways. "Wait."
"What?"
"The symbol isn't pointing toward the meeting point."
Rian looks at the map, "You're right."
The symbol is positioned along the edge of a secondary route, well away from the marked destination. My heart begins beating faster, "My parents knew I might have to use another route."
"Maybe."
I look at him, "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Say maybe."
He nods, "Right."
I trace the road with my finger. The line eventually disappears into an area that hasn't been labeled. No town and no structure. Nothing.
"There's nothing here," I say.
"That's probably why they chose it."
"Or why the map doesn't show it."
Rian takes the map gently. "Seventeen." He points to the number, "Maybe that's a road, or a building, or a location code."
"Or maybe it’s something my parents made up."
I pause for a moment, trying to recall anything. Then, I snap my fingers and look toward Rian. I remember something! It’s vague, but it’s something.
There was a wooden box, which had sat in the back of my dad's workshop for years. I once asked what was inside. My dad had laughed and told me it was part of an old family game. There were numbers written across the lid that I’d forgotten about… until now.
"Seventeen wasn't a random number," I say.
Rian looks at me, "What was it?"
"I don't know."
"But you remember something."
Nodding, I continue, "My dad had a box with numbers on it."
"Seventeen?"
"I think so." I close my eyes, as my memory comes back in fragments.
My dad's hands. The smell of machine oil. A wooden box. The number seventeen, and my dad’s voice.
Sometimes the safest place is the place nobody thinks to look.
Then, a picture of an old building surrounded by trees flashes to mind.
I open my eyes, "Oh."
"What?"
"I know where we're going," I say, grabbing the map. "There's an old maintenance station."
Rian's expression changes. "The one we were walking toward?"
"No." I point farther east, "Another one."
"How do you know?"
"My dad."
Rian studies me for a moment, then says, "Then let's go."
We continue through the woods, till the trees eventually thin. A narrow clearing appears. At the far end stands a low concrete structure almost completely hidden beneath vines.
I stop, "There."
Rian approaches carefully. The building looks abandoned. One door hangs crookedly from its hinges. The windows are covered with grime. There were no lights, nor vehicles, or even signs of recent activity for that matter.
"This is it?" Rian asks.
"I think so."
I step closer, reaching out till my hand hovers over the door. What if this isn't what I think? What if we’re walking into another trap?
I look at Rian, "We shouldn't go in together."
“Why?” he asks, frowning.
"If someone is watching,” I say, looking around. “two people entering at once is easier to notice."
"Felicity—"
"I'll go first."
"No."
"Rian."
"I'm going first."
I stare at him. I don’t know how to take that. On one hand, I’m a bit annoyed with him. However, if I’m totally honest with myself, his chivalrous statement makes my heart skip a beat.
"You don't get to decide everything," I say, glancing at him as I try to ignore that annoying heartburn. What did I eat this time to cause it?
"I'm not trying to."
"Then stop acting like you have to protect me."
He paused. "I don't think you need protecting."
"Good…"
"I think you need someone beside you."
Wow… that was good. For a second, I don't know what to say.
Finally, I nod, "Fine."
We enter together. Inside, the air smells old and dusty. A row of rusted shelves line one wall and an ancient communication terminal sits on a desk. I step toward it and find that it has no power.
Rian searches the other side of the room, "Nothing."
"Look," I point to the wall.
There’s another symbol with the same circle and three lines… and beneath it… 17. My pulse quickens. I trace over the carved symbol, wondering who carved it in the concrete. Was it my parents? My fingers run over the grooves and then I notice something underneath. A thin seam. I press it, but nothing happens. Rian tries next, still nothing.
Looking around, I whisper, "Think."
My dad’s voice returns.
The safest place is the place nobody thinks to look.
I look at the symbol again, then at the floor. Then the ceiling. Finally, I notice three small marks beside the door.
"Rian."
“What?” he asks.
"The lines.”
I press them in order and a click sounds beneath the floor. We freeze as a section of the wall shifts. Behind it is a narrow compartment where a small metal box sits. I pull it out, hoping that Rian doesn’t notice my shaking hands. Examining the box, I notice that there’s no electronic lock, scanner, or marker reader on the box. Just a simple latch.
I open it only to find a folded piece of paper inside. “Felicity,” I read, looking at the name that’s written across the front.
Rian steps closer, "Your parents?"
"I think so." I say, opening the note.
Only three lines are written.
If you are reading this, the meeting point is compromised.
Do not come.
Trust the number.
Below the message is another set of coordinates. I stare at them, realizing that my parents had known. They had known the original meeting place might be discovered, and they had prepared another way.
Everything is suddenly blurry now and my eyes slightly burn. "They're alive."
Rian doesn't correct me. I don’t know if that’s because he doesn’t want to give me false hope or shatter it all together.
Instead, he says softly, "Then we find them."
I fold the message. For the first time in days, hope feels like something more than a dangerous illusion.
I tuck the paper into my jacket, "Let's go."
Sccrriiitttch!
Something is scratching the outside wall.
I freeze.
Rian turns toward the door.
“Felicity Ponce?”
The voice comes from outside the small building. It’s not Authority and it’s definitely not familiar. My heart seems to stop, as I wonder who this stranger could be.
My first instinct is to run. However, how would that work? There’s only one entryway and the stranger is blocking my way. My best option is to hide, but there’s nowhere to hide in here.
I stand frozen beside the wall, staring toward the doorway.
Rian steps in front of me, "Who are you?"
Silence.
“We know who you are,” the voice finally comes again.
My stomach tightens.
Rian's hand moves toward an old metal pipe he finds near the door. "Come inside."
A figure appears in the doorway… a woman. She’s older than my parents, but younger than Elara. She’s wearing a weathered coat and carrying no visible weapon. Two more people stand behind her. A man and a girl who look around my age. All three are wearing their hoods low.
The woman raises her hands, "We're not Authority."
"How do we know that?" Rian asks.
"You don't."
The woman looks past him, her eyes landing on me, "But your parents trusted us."
My heart is pounding now. "You know my parents?"
"Daniel Ponce."
My legs nearly give out on me the moment I hear my dad’s name. "Yes."
The woman lowers her hands, "He asked us to watch for you."
I finally step forward, searching her face, "Where are they?"
The woman's expression softens. "I don't know."
The hope I felt moments ago wavers.
"But you said…"
"I said they asked us to watch for you. Not that we know where they are." the woman says, shrugging her shoulders.
There’s a lump in my throat, making it hard to swallow. "What happened to them?"
"We lost contact."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
That’s all it takes to cause my chest to tighten. Yesterday was the same day everything had fallen apart.
Once again I seem to be bad at hiding my feelings because the woman’s expression on her face changes, "I'm sorry."
I look down, refusing to cry… at least not here. Not in front of strangers.
"Who are you?" I finally manage to ask.
"My name is Marla." She gestures toward the others, "This is Tomas. That's Nia."
Nia gives me a cautious nod.
"Ok… if you're not Authority," I ask, looking between the three people, “then who are you?”
Marla smiles faintly. "It doesn’t matter who we are."
"Yes… it does! Why wouldn’t it?" I ask.
Rian's expression hardens, "Ok… then what should we call you? Resistance?"
She hesitates for a moment before saying, "Survivors."
The word hangs in the air.
I frown, "Survivors of what?"
Marla looks directly at me, "The Purge."
My breath catches. The Natural Purge. The event Elara had told us about. The event the government had tried to erase from history.
"You survived?" I ask, looking between the three.
The guy, Tomas, nods, "My parents did too."
Nia looks away, "My grandmother."
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This has to be a dream.
"But Elara said most naturally born people were..."
"Killed?" Marla finishes my statement.
I nod.
"Many were."
"Then how are you here?"
Marla glances toward the doorway. "Because some of us weren't found."
I feel something shift inside me. All my life, I'd believed I was different and didn’t belong. Then I find out that I’m supposed to be the last naturally born human. The final mistake. The impossible survivor.
However, these people…
I look at Nia, "You're natural?"
She nods.
I’m speechless.
Rian looks at me, his expression mirroring my own shock. Marla watches me carefully.
"Your parents didn't tell you."
It’s not a question, but I shake my head anyway. "They told me almost nothing."
"I see… they were trying to protect you."
"From what?"
Marla hesitates. "From everyone."
My face is starting to burn, as I ball up my fist. "Everyone?"
"Yes… Government. Scientists. People who believe natural-born genetics can fix the problems with cloning."
I stiffen. What does she mean by that? "What problems?"
Marla exchanges a look with Tomas. "We don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
Marla sighs, "Cloning isn't as perfect as you've been told."
I remember Elara's warning. Genetic stability, lifecycle, and replication. The things the government has hidden.
Marla continues, "Every generation of cloning introduces small imperfections. Most are corrected. Some aren't."
"And?"
"And those imperfections accumulate."
My mouth is really dry.
"How bad?" I ask around the lump in my throat.
"We don't know,” Tomas steps forward. "That's why Vale wants you."
I flinch.
Rian immediately looks at him, "You know about Vale?"
"We know what he wants."
"What?"
Marla looks at me, "Your genetic code."
My stomach twists. "So I'm just a resource."
"No," Mara's voice is firm. "You're a person."
"But Director Vale doesn't see me that way."
"No."
Rian steps beside me. "Neither does the government."
Marla looks at him for the first time with real suspicion, "You're Vale's son, aren’t you?"
Rian's jaw tightens, "Yes."
The room goes silent. Tomas moves backward and Nia looks nervous.
I move slightly between them, "He's with me."
Marla studies me, "Are you sure?"
I hesitate for a second. There it is again… the question I can’t answer right now. Are you sure? About Rian. About Jax. My parents. Elara. Everything.
I look at Rian. He doesn't ask me to defend him. He simply waits.
"I don't know," I admit.
Rian looks down.
"But he's here," I say, turning back toward Marla. "And right now, that's enough."
Marla is quiet for a long moment before nodding, "Fair enough."
She walks towards a hidden door. "You can't stay here."
How did I not see that before?
I frown, "Why?"
"Because the Authority will eventually find this place."
"They already found our vehicle," Rian says, still taking a protective stance by me.
"I know," Marla says.
My eyes widen, "How?"
She opens the door, "Because we saw them."
"You've been watching us?"
"Since you entered the woods."
I stiffen, "Why didn't you help?"
"We needed to know if you were alone."
"And?"
Marla looks at Rian. "We weren't expecting him."
Rian gives a humorless smile, "Nor were we expecting you."
Marla gestures toward the door, "You need to leave."
"Where?"
"The coordinates your parents left."
I touch the folded paper in my pocket. "You know where they lead?"
Marla nods, "Yes."
My heart seems to jump, "Where?"
Marla looks at me, "To a settlement." She pauses. Then, her next words change everything. "One built by people the government says no longer exist."
I suck in a sharp breath, before saying, "Naturals."
Mara nods, "That’s right, Naturals."
I stare at her in disbelief, but what reason does she have to lie to me? I have spent my entire life believing I was one thing and feeling alone without knowing why, only to have the rug pulled from under me in a span of a few days. Now that I know that’s not true, it frightens me more than not knowing where I fit in ever had. If there were others, then the government had been lying about far more than I ever imagined.
Marla opens the door wider, "Come with us."
I look at Rian, then at the map and the coordinates my parents had left behind. I start to think about Jax, Elara, and my parents. Will I ever see them again? Then there’s Director Vale and the single instruction that has followed me since the beginning.
Tell no one.
For the first time, I wondered whether that rule had ever really been meant to protect me or whether it had been protecting the secret.
I step through the doorway, "Take me to them."
We head towards the tree line, and somewhere beyond those trees, hidden from the eyes of the Authority, another piece of the truth waits.