Page 46 of Following Their Heart

Cora begins pacing again, but this time it is not with agitation. Her face is deeply thoughtful.

“Think about it,” she says. “I had a dream that Doc and Shep went to see the pelicanafterwe spent time together in my cabin. So, I invite them to my cabin, and the next morning, their Gifts are on hyperdrive. Shep was actually able to communicate with Bernard, and Doc was able to break the connection Raptor had with him. Those were like, extensions of their Gifts.”

Her hands express the hectic energy coursing through her. They are in front of her as if she is holding an invisible ball.

“What if,” she says, “somehow being with me helps their Gifts in some way? Rev said the Working is using me, even though I don’t have a Gift. What if that’s how? I haven’t spent time with Scrap in a while. What if he needs that time, like right now, so his Gift can be stronger?”

As much as I don’t like to think about her spending time with the others in her cabin, she does have a point. Doc and Shep spoke at length about the surprising ways their Gifts expressed themselves with the pelican. And without the pelican’s help, we wouldn’t have known Raptor was coming so soon.

If there was ever a time Scrap’s Gift needs a boost, it’s now, when we’re under attack.

“What if other stuff isn’t working, too?” Cora says. “What if the radios are failing all over and the missiles aren’t working? What if Raptor has someone on his team with a Gift that undoes the things Scrap can do?” She stomps to me, eyes gleaming with urgency. Her fists curl in my sweatshirt. “Scrapneedsme. Ihaveto be by his side to help him be strong, to help him fight Gift with Gift.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I try. “We cannot risk you.”

“That’s why you’ll protect me,” she says with a decisive nod. “You’ll get me to the summit fast and safe, and we’ll help Scrap deal with whatever threat we’re facing.” She turns from me and starts for the door again, but I drag her back.

My jaw is tense as I study her.

I can’t deny there is some sense in her reasoning. There have been magical forces—for lack of a better term—at work since Week Zero. Just because I do not feel this dire warning from the Working does not mean she is wrong about it.

“It should be Rev down here with you,” I say. “He would know what to do.”

For the first time since her panic set in, Cora looks deep into my eyes. Before, she was trying to make me see her vision, but right now, she is trying to see through my eyes.

“Grim,” she says, and I see love shining in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know this is difficult. You are so good at following orders. You are a good soldier for Jud, and for all of us. But right now, Jud is wrong. Me being down here is wrong.”

She lays her hand along my neck, and I know she can feel my pulse there. It is strong and quick with the weight of what she is asking of me.

“I know what’s at stake,” she says. “I don’t want to put myself in danger. I don’t want anything to happen to me. But I don’t want anything to happen to my guys, either—to any of you. But bad thingsarehappening. Right now, they’re happening. I feel it. Here.” She pats her chest over her heart.

“Druzhyna.”It is a plea for her to stop asking this of me.

“I don’t know for sure what’s happening up there, but I do know one thing for sure. We are stronger together. The eight of us. We’re meant to be together. To fight together. You and I have to join the fight, Ivan. It’s the only way.” When she uses my given name, I am helpless to deny her.

She takes my hand and leads me to the door.

“Open it,” she says with level-headed confidence.

And because somewhere deep in my soul I trust in her, I do what she wants.

Grim

Hand over hand,I climb the ladder out of the shelter. Cora is behind me. All I can think is:I am disobeying orders.When Jud finds out, I may hang for this. So be it. Any man who claims to love a woman and refuses to give her what she requires for her survival and her sanity—he is no man.

If I were not convinced she is being led by the Working, I would not give in. But I am convinced. There is a certainty in her words and a passion in her pleas that I cannot ignore.

She believes we are losing the battle, and I believe it is more than a lover’s worry. She insists we can help. I hope she is right.

“Hurry,” she urges as we sprint, hand in hand, through the tunnels. Our headlamps ping-pong off the curved walls with our stride.

We are retracing our steps to the upper-most entrance to the mines. That is where we entered, and where the ATV is hidden. It is also the closest entrance to the summit, where Scrap is.

Once we’re through the bottleneck turn with the low ceiling, we straighten and increase our speed on the straight-away.

“Scrap needs us.” Cora is gasping for air, but she won’t slow down.

When I try to settle back into a more sustainable pace for her sake, she makes gains and passes me. “Faster.” She reminds me of Rev when he speaks to us of his visions. She has stirred in me the same conviction and determination our prophet does when he preaches.

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