Page 20 of Storm Caller

“I don’t know the exact numbers,” Simon says. “But we estimate approximately eleven percent of the population has fully succumbed to the Silence, while another thirty percent bear the markers of becoming Whispers.” He pauses, and I understand that he’s carefully choosing his words. “Of those, we guess about eighty percent will eventually complete the transition.”

I sway where I stand, mentally calculating just how many people could be affected.

Simon continues. “But those numbers are quickly increasing. It’s spreading faster. Without a cure, we worry that eventually the entire population will be lost to the Silence, possibly in as little as a few years.”

That knowledge sinks through me like a brick as I wrap an arm around my aching ribs. My gaze shifts to Rook, but he doesn’t appear affected. None of this is new information to him.

I’ve never known how many Keepers live within the boundaries of New Manhattan. That information is suppressed and hidden. But I think about the murders reported in the last few months. How the Shield was forced to increase Extinguisher presence to “protect” us. It seemed like these were mostly isolated incidents, but maybe that’s another lie.

I want to know more, but my injury throbs, and I’m starting to sweat from the effort of walking. Rook must notice, because he wraps a gentle arm around my waist and guides me down the corridor.

We round a corner and find a long hallway that ends in a set of wide double doors leading into a large room. Inside, we find dozens of people sitting in chairs or on mats on the floor. Children. The elderly. Several of the same people I noticed in the camp earlier.

“C’mon,” Rook says, leading me to an empty mat along the wall. I feel every eye in the room following me as he stops and turns toward me. “Can I check your ribs?”

People are whispering, shooting me looks, and I glance away, wishing I could curl into an invisible ball.

“Sure,” I say, and I lift the side of my shirt with a wince, blanching at the spread of mottled bruises. Blue and purple and every shade in between. Rook gently prods at the skin, his touch skilled and careful.

I inhale sharply before he looks up. “Sorry.”

I shake my head while he continues probing.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he says. “But we’ll get Vess to look at you as soon as we can.”

I shake my head, recalling the look on her face the last time Rook asked for her help. “No, don’t bother her. I’ll be fine.” He opens his mouth, but I give him a pleading look. I don’t want to put her on the spot, and I can’t handle her rejection again.

His mouth presses together in a hard line, and he dips his chin in a sharp nod.

“Fine, but if it gets any worse, I don’t want any arguments.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“We’ll get you something for the pain, though.”

“Sure,” I say as I start to sink onto the mat, my knees melting out from under me. Rook guides me to the floor, then heads to a cabinet on the far side of the room. He grabs a few things and offers me some pills and water. I swallow them, and then we sit shoulder to shoulder. People are still watching me, casting not-so-subtle looks.

A hand lands on my knee, and I peer up at Rook. “It’s okay,” he says softly. I should shake him off. I should tell him not to touch me, but I can’t find the will.

“What happens now?” I ask, my voice low, trying not to draw any more attention.

“We wait,” he says. “They’ll let us know when it’s safe to go aboveground.”

I think about what he said about the Keeper he killed. Something troubled passes over his expression, and I get the sense he’s thinking about it, too.

“Just try to rest,” he says.

Sure, I think I can do that. I’m exhausted, bone-deep weary, both mentally and physically. My insides are filled with lead, heavy, hard, and cold.

I sit back, my eyelids drooping, my eyes scratchy. Rook presses up against me, and I can’t help it when my head drops, resting on his shoulder.

He’s warm, and he feels safe. In spite of everything. Despite how we left the city and the lies he told me. The half-truths I’ve heard so far.

I don’t belong here. This place is so far removed from everything I’ve ever known.

Never once did I think I’d find myself here.

Never dreamed about it. Never thought about it.