Rehabilitation: Romantic Dystopian (Unbelief Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Shh,” says the male voice again. His hand rubs my back and strokes my hair alternately. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

I don’t understand why he’s comforting me, talking in quiet soothing tones, until I realize the sob caught in my throat has escaped and I’m blubbering into his shoulder like a baby, clutching him desperately.

“I’ve got you, Sinna,” the man soothes.

He knows my name. Taking a deep breath, I manage to compose myself. With what feels like the last of my strength, I shove away from him, moving to sit on the ground beside him. “How do you know my name,” I whisper, still struggling to catch my breath.

“Don’t you recognize me?” There’s a hint of amusement in that voice.

Frowning, I finally look up at him and can just make out his features in the dark. “You’re...” It’s Alex. The soldier from the truck. “Alex?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the night. “You do remember. Good. I was worried you were fried.” His tone teasing almost.

I can’t believe this. Alex, a
soldier
of all people, has gotten me out of the hole I was sure I would die in. The boy—man—who offered me an escape, has now saved my life.
 

How is that even possible?

“You ready for me to help you escape yet?” he says, his voice continuing to be surprisingly light, despite our situation.

I’m nodding my head before I even think about it.

He gets up off the ground, reaching out a hand to help me up, too. I take it and let him pull me up, wincing at the pain that shoots through my half-frozen bones. “Good,” he comments. “Then let’s get out of here. My shift will be over soon and my replacement will show up. If they catch us here, we’ll both get a lot worse than being tossed in that hole there.”

He starts to move away from the hole and the camp, out toward the mile of nothingness he told me about when first we arrived here. I begin to follow him, almost mindlessly but I slow down quickly.
 

I can’t go yet, I realize.
 

I still have things to do here.

Jacob.

If I don’t find Jacob, there was no point to any of this.
 

Stopping several paces behind Alex, I call out to him quietly, “I can’t.”

I see him stop. He turns back to look at me and though it’s dark and hard to make out his expression, I can tell it’s incredulous. Or rather, I can feel it’s incredulous, I can’t really see much.

“What
?” he demands. “Are you crazy? We need to go, now. You can’t tell me you honestly still want to be here. I know that whatever they throw at you, you’ll survive and all that, but this is a bit much don’t you think?”

I shake my head. “That’s not it. I... I need to find someone. He’s the reason I’m here.” My shoulders slump a little at the admission. I don’t really know if it’s a good idea to reveal my motives to him or not, but I don’t seem to have much choice.

His expression has changed, I can sense it, but I still can’t make out what exactly it is. “You came here to break him out.”

I nod.

He curses under his breath, then runs a hand through his hair. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He’s right, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I say, “His name is Jacob. And I’m not leaving without him.”

I move closer to him, trying to see better in the dark. I hear him groan and I can faintly see what looks like indecision flicker across his features. I can tell he doesn’t like this plan and maybe he’s even regretting saving me. I figure he’s just going to cut his losses and run. I wouldn’t blame him, either. But then he surprises me—again.

“Alright,” he says. “Alright. What’s this guy’s name? Jacob what?”

I blink rapidly a couple of times, shocked he’s willing to help. “Moore. Jacob Moore.”

“And how long ago did he come here?”

“Um,” I try to think fast, doing the math in my head. “Two, maybe three months.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at me. “He’s been here that long?” he asks me, and I can tell by the tone of his voice this isn’t good.

I nod my head. “Yeah. He’s... he’s still here, right?” My voice trails off, feeling another wave of fear grip me as my heart sinks to my feet.
He has to be here.

His expression grim, Alex nods. “Oh, he’s here alright.”
 

I feel a weird mix of relief and anxiety at his tone.

He starts walking, lips stretched in a straight, severe line. I follow him quickly, despite feeling tired and weak. We’re headed toward the box in the ground, where I saw all the people filing into on the day I arrived.

“In there?” I ask and can’t help the tremor in my voice.

Alex only nods.

I would give just about
anything
to never have to go into the ground again.

M
y stomach has dropped to my feet with a sickening lurch. “How do you know he’s down there?” I ask in a sharp whisper, my voice laced with fear.

The last thing I want to do is go down into another hole in the ground, willingly or otherwise. After my stint in the last one, I may never feel comfortable going under the earth again. Alex doesn’t say anything at first, he just keeps walking forward, his steps purposeful. He’s stiff though, and I can tell that whatever he knows, it’s making
him
definitely not want to go down there too.

“Because if he’s been here longer than a month, then he’s there.” Alex’s tone is grave. “That’s how Rehab works. You get a few weeks, they decide whether or not they think they can break you, and if they can’t, they throw you in the tunnels.”

If they can break you.
I replay that phrase over and over in my head as we get closer to the box. I can see stairs leading down into the ground. I think of all the people going around the fire pit down into that box. Are they all still down there? Are they the ones who couldn’t be broken?

At the entrance of the tunnel, I pause. Alex continues, bee-lining straight into the box, but I don’t want to. All I can think about is that hole I was dropped down. Of being cold and alone, tired and weak. Helpless.

“Hey,” Alex says. He’s stopped to turn around and look at me. “If we’re going to go save your friend, we need to
go
. We don’t have a lot of time and it’s going to be hard enough to get out of here as it is.”

He’s right, I realize. Shaking my head trying to clear the fear clouding it, I tell him, “You’re right. Let’s go.” I figure maybe if I say it aloud, I’ll believe it. I follow him determinedly, shoving my fear down, clinging to thoughts of Jacob and getting him the heck out of this place.

It gets darker as we go, no natural light to speak of. Soon I can’t even see Alex in front of me as we travel deeper and deeper underground. It seems to go on like this forever, each step I take making me worry I’m going to trip, I’m practically on top of Alex. But then, as I follow him farther down, I see the slightest flicker of a dim light. As we continue deeper, the light becomes stronger.

It never becomes truly bright, but it’s enough to illuminate the path and the low ceiling around us. I am just short enough not to hit the ceiling, but Alex has to stoop. The light source stems from a glowing lamp bolted into the wall. It looks sort of like a flashlight, but it smells weird and appears to be hissing.

My attention centers back to Alex, and I see him waving me forward. I move toward him and continue following him as he disappears down a long hallway. At first, I don’t notice anything else beyond the lamps bolted into the walls, but then I hear the noise.

It’s a groaning that echoes off the walls, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t know what it is—until I see the doors. There are dozens of them. They are iron doors, orange with rust, and have small square windows in them. The windows are barred.

“What are these?” I ask Alex, my voice a hesitant whisper. I’m sure I already know though.

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps moving farther and farther down. I notice now he is glancing at the doors where something has been written. Frowning, I stop walking and move closer to a door until the words come into view.

Jerold Hamish.

Names. They’re
names
inscribed into little plates attached to the iron. “Are these... Are there
people
behind these doors?” I ask Alex, hoping he'll tell me I’m wrong. That the names mean something else, are some kind of code and I just don’t understand them. I know he won’t.

“Yes,” he answers. He doesn’t look at me when he says this, just keeps glancing at the doors we pass to read the names.

I realize now he’s looking for Jacob.

As I’m passing one of the doors, I hear a slam from my right making me jump away, my heart leaping into my throat. My back hits the opposite wall. From a barred window, a thin, gangly hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder.

“Please,” a voice pleads. It sounds like a woman, hoarse, but high pitched.

I’m too shocked to do anything but let Alex yank me back from her hand, which falls away with little resistance. He starts pulling me farther down the hall, dragging me behind him and looking for Jacob’s name.

Then I realize what’s going on. “No, wait!” I say and pull away from Alex.

“Wait?” he asks incredulous. “For
what
?”

“We have to help them,” I tell him, feeling an odd mixture of panic, desperation, and determination.

Alex runs both hands through his hair, already shaking his head. “You don’t get it. We don’t have time. Do you know how many people are here? Thousands.
Thousands,
Sinna
.
There’s no way we can get them all out and escape before the Elite catch us. We won’t even make it to the second level before soldiers start flooding the tunnels. If you want to save your boy, fine. I’ll help. But if you’re going to go on some fanatical suicide mission, then count me out.”

His voice is strained, hushed, but vehement. I realize the importance of what he’s said and appreciate finally the danger he’s put himself in by helping me.

I owe it to him, to keep him out of as much trouble as possible—and that means not getting caught. I can’t save everyone, but I can save
one
at least.
I can save Jacob.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay. I’m sorry. Let’s go.” I can’t help but feel a sense of sorrow though, knowing so many people around us are suffering so horribly.

Together, we go deeper into the tunnels, both of us now reading the tags on the doors. My eyes are straining in the dim lighting as I scan every one I pass. I haven’t spotted Jacob’s name yet, and I’m getting worried. What if he’s not here? Then Alex calls over to me, “Over here!” He’s standing in front of a door a little further up from where I am. I rush to stand next to him and read the tag for myself.

Jacob Moore.

Alex reaches for his belt, yanking off a ring I hadn’t noticed yet. I realize he has keys. Briefly, I think about asking him how he has them, but decide I don’t care. Jacob is right behind that door and that’s all that matters to me.

He shoves open the heavy rusted iron, and light floods into the room. I hold my breath, looking into the small enclosure. There, slumped against the wall is a figure. Without thinking, I rush forward and throw myself to my knees beside him, my hands going out to touch him, to feel that it’s truly Jacob,
my
Jacob.

“Jacob!” I half sob. I’m so relieved to see him I’m already crying. “Jacob, it’s me! It’s Sinna. I’m going to get you out of here.” I run my hands over his face, giving him a little shake to rouse him, before slipping my hands down around his waist.

I start to heave him up, throwing one of his arms around my shoulders.

His head turns slowly to look at me, his eyes squinting, looking strained in the sudden light. After a moment, his lips turning up in a faint smile he says, “I didn’t know you were the one He would send.”

I open my mouth to ask what he’s talking about, but don’t get the chance. Alex is waiting at the door, but sticks his head in. “We’ve got to go!” he says urgently. “
Now
.”

I’m about to snap at him we need a moment, but then I hear it. The sound of footsteps down the hall.

He’s right. We have to go,
now
.