I smile and let out a sad laugh. “I promise.”
Zach scoots in closer to me until our legs touch. He gently puts his hand on my knee and looks into my eyes. Our lips join, and we kiss, tender and filled with kindness and hope. But then Zach pulls away, puts his hands around his legs, and sighs.
Hopefully that kiss is the start of healing and he can find a way to forgive me.
*
ZACH
I sit there with Aiden beside me, lost in my thoughts. He professed his feelings for me, which filled me with joy. After all, this is what I’ve wanted since I first saw Aiden stroll into Elk Springs. But I’m still hurt. And my joy is tapered by his choice to leave. This little nagging worry is now firmly planted in the back of my mind. No matter how much we trust each other, a part of me will always be worried that he’ll up and leave me.
We also continue to guard our secrets. I still know very little about his mission or the Scientific Collective. I consider saying that total honesty is a requirement for my forgiveness. But I’m not ready to talk about what actually happened with my uncle, so that would be hypocritical. Maybe this world is too complicated for total honesty.
Connor said some horrible things about Aiden. He said them to provoke me. That much, I know. But is there a sliver of the truth in there somewhere? What would it take to make someone like Connor become the way he is? He wasn’t born that way. Something changed him. Everybody thinks they’re justified in their actions from their own point of view. So what is his point of view?
We spend the remainder of the day resting. I need the break after all I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, and I’m sure Aiden does too.
After a simple dinner, Aiden leans against a rock with a pensive expression, watching the sun getting low in the sky. When I approach, he smiles tentatively and looks at me with hope. His soft and caring eyes melt my defenses, and I sit down and wrap my arm around him.
As the sky dims, the warmth of his body protects me from the chill of the evening. The sunset is spectacular, with unobstructed views west. Streaks of high cirrus clouds turn shades of yellow, orange, and purple as the sun tucks behind the horizon.
With one of the backpacks gone, we only have the remaining tent and sleeping bag, which Aiden set up earlier. He grabs the emergency blanket from our first aid supplies.
“Zach, you can have the tent.” He starts to unfold the blanket.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll freeze out here. We can share.”
Aiden’s face lights up, and he tries to suppress a smile. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. We like each other, right?” I smile at him, and he smiles back with hope in his eyes.
We snuggle up in the sleeping bag. It’s a chilly night, so we keep our clothes on, and that’s probably for the best. As I lie there with Aiden’s arms wrapped around me, my hurt starts to ebb. Tonight, I feel safe with Aiden by my side.
*
We wake at first light before the sun crests over the horizon. After quickly breaking camp, we hit the road. The hiking is easy, and I’m well-rested after our long downtime yesterday. But I’m more aware of the slight pain in my leg the longer we hike. The wound has stopped bleeding entirely, but parts of the skin around the cut are red and inflamed.
A little past midday, we approach a sizable hill. The path leads into a man-made ravine that appears blasted out with dynamite. The walls of the ravine rise higher until they’re fifteen feet tall. We approach the entrance of a dark tunnel framed in cement, with an inscription on the side.
Boylston Tunnel
Est. 1872
In the tunnel, darkness greats us. I shoot Aiden a side-eye. “That looks ominous.”
“Just an old railroad tunnel. Should be a straight shot through.”
I shade my eyes from the sun and peer in. “I can’t even see to the other end.”
“We’ll be fine.”
I’m not so sure. I stand at the edge of the tunnel in the stagnant air. But Aiden is already starting in and gesturing me forward. He pulls the flashlight out and shines it into the darkness. The narrow cone of light does little to illuminate the tunnel, revealing just a few steps in front.
Outside, the heat of the noonday sun is quite warm, but the temperature inside is at least twenty degrees lower. I wrap my arms around myself. Graffiti litters the walls. Mostly standard fare, like people’s names in hearts, tags, and crude pictures of genitalia. One piece stands out.
Here lies death.
The hair rises on my neck. Aiden is already ahead of me, so I run to catch up and loop my arm around his. “This place gives me the creeps.”
