Page 384 of Rage

Everyone except me… and now Lita.

"If we escape we'll come back for the rest of you," I assure her.

An awkward beat of silence passes, and we all exchange glances.

"And if you can't?" Sara’s eyes bounce between Lita and me. "If you die trying?"

I open my mouth to speak, but Lita answers instead. "If dying is our only chance to truly live, so be it."

Chapter Seven

My eyes snap to Lita, and I admire the fire that’s returned to her. She's still afraid—she’d be crazy not to be—but dressed in her pajamas, she looks like herself. The strength and vibrance I love about her flickers like a dull flame, waiting to ignite, but it’s there.

I’m glad she’s on board with my psychotic plan, and I don’t have to drag her out of the house kicking and screaming.

Sara's expression turns somber, but she knows better than to try and stop us. If we’re caught, everyone will be questioned; it’s best if she stays out of our way and pretends not to know what we’re doing.

"Godspeed." She nods her head slightly before stepping out of our way.

We hurry down the hall to my room, and I grab the few things that I own: a small knife for cutting roots, a few feet of twine I swiped from some dead vegetable stalks, and my shoes. It isn't much, but it's all I have.

Then, we head downstairs.

Everyone must have gone back to sleep because all the bedroom doors are closed. There aren’t any curious eyes trailing us as we creep down the stairs and tiptoe across the kitchen,which only heightens my anxiety. We’re completely on our own, just the two of us against a handful of Peace Officers.

For the first time, my confidence wanes, but Lita squeezes my hand for reassurance. I meet her gaze, and the fire roaring through my veins burns hot enough to make me sweat.

I’m doing this for her…

Originally, my plan was to burst out the front door and run past the Peace Officer. Maybe if we caught him off guard and ran fast enough, he wouldn't catch up. However, I quickly decided that was a terrible plan and shifted my focus to the only other way out of the gatherer house: the windows.

There’s a small window above the kitchen sink with a view of the youngling house that opens to let in a fresh breeze every now and again, and a slightly wider one in the common room with a clear shot of the distant woods. That one, on the other hand, is nailed shut.

Before I was born, someone tried to escape through the kitchen window, but they were caught and hanged in the square. No one's tried since. Fear keeps them obedient, so why would the Peace Officers do anything more than hammer a few nails into some wood to keep the gatherers trapped inside? They’d never expect anyone to try and pry the window open, knowing what consequences awaited.

I tiptoe across the floor and pause by the common room window, peering through the narrow slit between the curtains. A wide stretch of grass runs from the back of the gatherer house to the tall trees in the distance, bathed in the white glow of moonlight. It’s beautiful, peaceful, with no signs of Peace Officers. Yet, nothing has ever made me more nervous.

"What's the plan?" Lita whispers in my ear. I wish I had an answer for her, but I don't.

Get to the trees. That's my plan.

Run for our lives, because that’s exactly what we’ll be doing. If anyone sees us, if we're followed, I'll stop to give her time to escape.

"Run," I finally tell her, straining my eyes for anything out of the ordinary. "No matter what, you run."

We exchange glances, and I can see the fear flickering in her eyes. I want to reassure her, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but I don't want to lie to her face. Besides, we don't have any more time to waste.

It's now or never.

Chase freedom or stay here, never truly living.

"Torri..." she says, but I'm already crouching in front of the window. I dig my knife out of my burlap sack and set to work, slowly wrenching the metal nails out of the wood. It’s painstaking, and I nearly give up a time or two, but finally the last one pops free and clinks on the hardwood floor.

I carefully shove the window up, grimacing at the groan it makes. Cool air blooms in through the opening, licking against my skin. I'm pouring sweat, and adrenaline beats through my veins like a war drum.

"What if we don't make it?" Lita whispers.

I ignore her, not willing to entertain the thought. I’m staring at the trees in the distance, my heart slamming against my ribs as I try and fail to calculate how far of a run it is. It’ll take us several minutes to get there, but it’s doable.

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