“It’s okay,” I say, still breathless.
I move toward the remains of the path we made, heading back to the shuttle and the colony, but nearly trip over a root. Chris dashes forward, quicker than I would have thought possible, and keeps me from face-planting.
“Thanks,” I say.
Chris lets me go and steps awkwardly back. “Friends?” he asks. It’s a peace treaty, an apology.
I take it. “Friends,” I say, but I can’t help but notice the way he’s standing too close to me, as if he’d gather me up in his arms if I gave even a hint that I wanted us to be more.
44: ELDER
By the time I’m dressed and racing down the steps after them, I can barely see Chris and Amy entering the forest on the other side of the meadow. They must be going to the shuttle. Amy had an idea for another test or something. That’s it. That has to be it.
I don’t follow. They would see me in the meadow, and it’s not safe anyway. Following them, unarmed, alone, is quite possibly the stupidest thing I could do right now.
And yet I almost have the chutz to do it anyway.
Instead, I slink back to the colony. I tell myself that all I’m doing is checking in on my people, but the truth of the matter is that I’m waiting for Amy to return. And trying not to think about what Amy and Chris are doing. Alone. In the dark. Together.
I skip the buildings filled with snoring Earthborns, but there’s at least one of my people awake at every building I visit. I find Heller, one of the former Feeders, perched on the stoop outside his building, staring up at the sky. Behind him, I can see the sleeping forms of nearly two dozen people. It’s not comfortable, but we’ve done the best we can, using clothes and blankets to create beds and covers.
“I can’t quit thinking about her,” Heller tells me in a low voice as I pass by.
I very much doubt he’s thinking about the same girl I can’t get out of my mind, so I ask, “Who?”
“Lorin. ” The first girl killed on the planet, the first casualty from an alien threat we cannot identify. “She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to die. ”
“I don’t think it works that way,” I say.
Heller shakes his head. He keeps staring up at the night sky, and I wonder if he’s looking for Godspeed and wishing he’d never come here in the first place.
After I make my rounds, I sneak back to the front of the colony and the first building, where Amy lives with her parents. I peek into the window of Amy’s room, but she’s not back yet. How long have they been out there? Has something gone wrong? I don’t know what fills me with more dread—the thought that something’s happened to them or the thought that they’re just enjoying each other so much that they can’t be bothered to return.
Something glows on the other side of Amy’s house. I duck back down, sneaking to a window that will give me a clearer view of what’s happening.
“I’m sick of lies,” Amy’s mother, Dr. Martin, says. I couldn’t possibly agree more. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to get a better view of their conversation.
“No more lies. ” Colonel Martin’s voice sounds sincere. “I’ve only been trying to follow my orders. ”
“You and your orders. ” Although exasperated, Dr. Martin sounds as if she understands her husband. “So this is what it’s all about?”
The lights inside the building shift, and I see something small and flat that seems to glitter despite the darkness. . . . I gasp aloud, then clap my hands over my mouth. The scale. This is the thin, flat scale I found in the tunnels, just before Chris pulled me out.
“Who would have thought something like this would be so valuable?” Amy’s mom says, marveling at it.
“I think—” Colonel Martin pauses abruptly. “What was that?”
I strain my ears and hear what made Colonel Martin stop. Footsteps, from the other side of the building.
“Probably just Amy coming back,” Dr. Martin says. The glowing light goes dark as Colonel Martin covers up the scale.
I rush as quietly as possible around the building. I’m just in time to see Chris and Amy turn to face each other. I slink back into the shadows.
“Thanks for walking with me,” Amy says. “And, you know. Earlier. ”
Earlier? Earlier? What happened earlier?
“Don’t mention it. And . . . er . . . ” Chris shifts uncomfortably.