She explodes like she was just waiting for me to ask. "No!" She throws the nuts in her hand against the wall and they rain to the floor. "Contrary to popular belief, everything is not about Jenna!" She walks over to the cot, jerks away the rumpled blanket, and sits down, crossing her arms, hugging herself, pulling everything in tight. "I used to live here too, you know? I might still have family in Boston. Something. Or there's my mother's law firm, Brown, Kirk, and Manning. They're huge. And powerful. My mom was a partner. They would help us. There has to be someone left."

With each word, her voice has grown smaller. She is looking down at her lap, probably thinking all the same things I am. There is no one. No one who cares about us. We're forgotten by everyone, including Jenna. We only have each other. I stare at her. The angry Kara is gone, and I see the Kara I love, the one who can be so strong but is still as fragile as a strand of spider silk. I see the Kara who has lost everything, just like me. My hand clenches tight. Jenna could have saved her. She should have found a way.

The faintest sound rolls from Kara's lips, like an injured kitten mewling, and all I want to do is hold her and make the rest of the world go away.

Chapter 20

My body molds to hers, my arm slipping around her waist, my lips brushing the back of her head. With our bodies squeezed close, the narrow cot is enough for the two of us. The light from the candle is gone. Only a thin orange glow seeps into the room from beneath the bottom of the door. We lie so close my words become hers and hers become mine.

How did this happen to us?

Why?

My hand covers hers, gently rubbing it.

I lost track of time.

There was no time.

I thought it would never end.

After centuries of waiting and wondering, we needed more time to talk than Gatsbro ever gave us. It was all about lessons and tests and how wonderful we were and never about the darkness that still lived in us.

I called out. Every minute. Every day. You were the only one who answered.

How could we hear each other? Gatsbro says it was impossible.

But we did.

We did.

Maybe the impossible is possible when you take everything else away.

When nothing is left, maybe you can reach for something that no one knew existed.

Or maybe we became something new.

Maybe we made it exist.

My words. Her words. Our words. I don't know where one begins and the other ends. I want to stay here holding her forever.

The accident was her fault.

She wasn't driving.

Her car. Her fault.

She was your best friend.

Was.

Was. I lift my hand to brush her hair from her cheek.

Why didn't she help us?

Maybe she didn't know.

We heard her. In the beginning she was there with us.

It was such a short time.

She knew. I heard her screams.

I thought she had died when she was silent.

But she left us. She left without helping us.

I pull her closer, breathing in the scent of her hair.

What will become of us, Kara?

We'll make a life.

Together.

Together.

Together where? Kara has never lived on the streets. She went from one privileged life to another.

Do you still like poetry, Locke?

Poetry?

You never recite poetry anymore. Not once since we woke. Not like you used to. Then. Before. Did you only do it for--

Her.

My mind races. Poetry was lifetimes ago. No. I don't care about poetry. I'm a different person from that Locke. How can she even think about that now?

Locke, was it only for--

For you, Kara. Just for you....

Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;

You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face....

"The fairest," she whispers, and then I hear her gentle breaths of sleep.

Chapter 21

"Where to, Escapees?"

"Food," Kara says. "We need real food."

I climb in beside Kara. "Morning, Dot." I reach into my pocket, checking again for the ID that was trolled during the night. Apparently the network of pickpockets in Boston is alive and well, targeting tourists with temporary IDs. I still don't know what this will cost us. All I know is that it will mean a favor. In my old neighborhood, that wasn't a good thing. "Were you okay out here by yourself all night?" I ask.

"No one bothers with Bots. I mostly had to worry about a few large rats and, of course, Remote Deactivation. I'm on the run now too." She winks at me like we're partners in an adventure. "But I'm still here this morning, so I guess the Retool that I got last night worked. So far. But if you see me go suddenly dead"--she makes a face like she has been hanged--"you'll know they found me."

"I'm glad you made it through the night okay, Dot. I hope--"

"Food," Kara interrupts. "We're starving."

"Right," I say. "And then we head to my house." Kara glances at me but says nothing. I know my house wasn't first on her list of places to visit, but as far as I can tell, my street would be the closest to where we are right now. She'll concede on this. Last night was a good night between us. It gave me hope that maybe she was right. We'll make a life together, somehow, someway, but right now we're going into the heart of Boston in the light of day, and I'm nervous enough to keep hope on hold. What will we see? Who will we see? Other than land pirates and the shadowy figures in the basement who mostly ignored us, we haven't seen anyone in this new world.