Page 143 of A Silence So Divine

Stunned, I glance at my own palm, and it comes back clear of any color. Simply damp with water.

We’re outside. It’s raining.

Creed smooths my hair from my forehead, and I realize that I’m cradled in his lap. His left arm supports my back, my cheek nestled against his chest. Dark circles deepen the skin beneath his eyes, and I could swear he has frown lines etched into his face that weren’t there yesterday.

He looks like an angel. The dim light of the sky casts him in shades of blue, the freckles across his nose dotted like constellations.

For a brief moment, I wonder if this could be Heaven.

Words fail me, my limbs too weak to form any if I wanted to, so I press my rain-slick hand to his cheek. His bottom lip warbles, and then he’s lowering his face. His forehead presses to mine.

My memory is thick, like trudging through mud. It’s exhausting to try and make sense of how Creed found me. I know it was bad, and I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him, but there’s no time to discuss it. Later, I’ll thank him properly. But for now, I have to put it away.

We sit like that for a moment, until all that is at stake steals what little comfort we were able to find in one another. I extract myself from his lap, grateful for his balancing grip on my arms.

“We have to find the others,”he signs, worry creasing his forehead.“They were supposed to meet us here.”

I look down at myself briefly, afraid of what I might find. The light blue of my shirt is tinged pink, but the rain has washed away the deep red. How long did he hold me out here? How did hegetme out here?

“Did you carry me?”The question seems insignificant, all things considered. Still, I ask.

Creed smiles, and it’s so pure, that it’s like finding a peony in a coalmine.

“Impressed?”Holding a hand out towards me, his gaze flicks around the expanse of the withered field we stand in. Behind us is a brick doorway, the rusted metal door closed. The doorway is the only thing that sticks out, the Earth sloping up to meet the top before dipping down and leveling out. It’s a walkout, I realize, and we came from underground.

We peek around the brick structure, the weak light of a new day spilling over the grounds, casting everything in a shade of gunmetal. The Sanctuary shines like a beacon in the distance. Before it is a group of smaller buildings, all in separate states of wear. The one closest is still pristine, most likely being built recently. Each are windowless, single story boxes.

Creed turns to me, an air of authority surrounding him.“We’ll go there and see if we can find you a weapon.”

A swallow gets lodged in my shredded throat, and I grimace at the raw ache that blooms there. Iron coats the back of my tongue. If my vocal chords weren’t past the possibility of healing already, they certainly are now.

Eyes flinty, he steps around the corner and half jogs towards the building, keeping one of my hands clasped in his, the other brandishing his gun. Each of our steps cause dehydrated briars to crackle, and I can only hope no one is close enough to overhear. The cover of night ebbs, but rainfall blurs the edges of our surroundings, hopefully concealing our moving shapes.

The black door is unassuming. Keeping my gaze over my shoulder, I squint against the slanting rain, fat drops weighing down the tips of my eyelashes. Seconds tick by, and I turn to check Creed’s progress.

What I see makes me falter: a ghostly pallor, a bobbing Adam's apple.

There’s a lock on the door, but not one we need a key for. A simple deadbolt is there, on theoutsideof the door. Whatever is inside, the Brothers are more concerned with keeping it in.

We exchange a glance and his jaw ticks.

“Stay behind me.”It’s a command, and I immediately step back until he’s shielding me with his tall frame. Rising to the tips of my toes, I watch over his shoulder as he flips the lock. His shoulders rise slowly on an inhale, blocking my vision, before lowering once more. Then, ever so slowly, he cracks it open.

Without any windows, the space is cast in a pitch black. Listening intently, I grip Creed’s arm, listening intently. But it isn’t a sound that has my blood running frigid. It’s thesmell. Waste, rot, death. And I’m not the only one who recognizes it, either, because Creed stumbles back a step, his back hitting my front. Keeping one eye on the door, he begins to sign.“Maybe we should—”

There’s a crackle of dry Earth. Panic lances through me, and without thinking, I shove Creed forward. His confused expression quickly shifts to worry. Someone is coming.

The scent is positively horrid, and tears gloss over my eyes. The air is thick with putrid humidity, and it clings to my skin like an oil. Shoulder to shoulder, I can practically feel the revolt rolling off of Creed.

We cling to one another as I listen for a threat. The only thing I hear, though, is the drumming of my heart and the stifled gasps of air as Creed struggles to catch his breath.

Hand hovering in the dark, I feel around blindly until my fingers brush the cool concrete wall. Inching up and around, I search for anything that might help us. My pinky catches on a small protuberance from the wall. Rectangular, maybe a quarter of an inch long.

Please, please,please.

With a flick, the space is flooded in a cold white. Creed reaches for me, eyes pinched shut as the light assaults our vision. A minute passes that I’m unable to make out anything, the brightness piercing my skull and rendering me blind. When the room does come into view, it’s a slow melt. Concrete walls, concrete floors, concrete ceilings. It’s all one room, no doors to be seen.

Hundreds of footprints leave a permanent stain on the ground, various sizes and shapes from people of all walks of life. A handful of buckets are pushed up against walls, some of which are knocked to the side, revealing the dark matter inside. Waste buckets.