argue with Mikey until I lost my voice just so I could watch his brother plummet to his death.
That’s why we have equipment, Logan explained. To stop a fall in midair. In theory, we will only fall twice the distance to the last “protection,” which is what Logan called the metal wedges he jams into the rock as he climbs.
I let more rope out, ignoring the friction searing my palms. The sun’s a full hand’s length above the trees now, but I shiver when the wind blows against my damp clothes.
Early this morning, we rowed down the river in the boat, with the current instead of against it, traveling in a matter of hours the distance we covered in our two-day journey out. I’ve never felt anything like it—the wind rushing over my hair, the water from Logan’s oars spraying my face. Best of all, we flew across the water as if we were gliding on air, as if Logan’s vigorous rowing might catapult us straight into another realm.
I returned to earth long enough to pay attention to Logan’s technique. If all goes accordingly, it will be me steering the boat in a of couple days, with Jessa as my passenger. And that, unfortunately, is the extent of my plan. Break into FuMA. Rescue Jessa. Row down the river. Here’s hoping the rest of the details fall into place when the time comes.
Above me, Logan stretches, grabs, and leaps. He’s three quarters of the way up the cliff face. Is it my imagination, or are his arms shaking?
I grip the rope and plant my feet. Beads of sweat break out on my forehead. This is exactly what Mikey was afraid of. This is why we argued for so long. If Mikey had come in my place, there would be no question whether he was strong enough or skilled enough to anchor his brother. But Logan claimed I could do it. He insisted that he trusted me.
I blink, and my throat closes up. How much do I owe him, when all is said and done? It’s one thing to offer moral support. Another thing entirely to put his life on the line.
An insect buzzes around me, landing on my slick forehead. I blow upwards, dislodging the fly without taking my eyes off Logan’s diminishing form.
“You can do it,” I chant under my breath. “You can do it. You can do it.”
And then, a few minutes later he does. His feet claw up the rocks, kicking more dust into the air as his body disappears into the glare of sunlight. A short while later, he pokes his head over the edge and waves.
It’s my turn.
My arms ache. My thighs burn. And I’m not even halfway there.
I find two steady footholds and hug the wall, gasping for breath. Sweat streams down my body. The air smells dry and dusty. It feels as if I’m inhaling tiny rock particles.
Somewhere above me, Logan’s belaying the rope. Every inch he gives brings me closer to him. Every foot I climb also brings me closer to saying good-bye.
“Fine,” Mikey had relented, fixing me with his stare. “You can take my place. But on two conditions.”
I shot a quick glance at Logan. We’d been sitting on the woven mats for what seemed like hours, and tingles marched up and down my calves. “What?”
“First, if you find anyone in civilization who’s changed her future—not partially or halfway, but someone who’s managed to stop her entire future from happening—bring her back to Harmony. I want to prove to Angela it can be done. I’d like to convince her it’s safe for us to at least adopt a child. Maybe even Ryder. He needs parents, and he and Angela already have a strong bond. I want her to feel like she has options.”
I nodded. “Of course. And the second?”
Mikey looked from me to his brother. “I need both of you to promise me that once you get over the cliff, you’ll go your separate ways. Logan has nothing to do with you or your mission once you get back to Eden City. Is that clear?”
I wanted to leap up and scream. No. We just rescinded our good-byes. You can’t rip us apart again.
But our reunion was always temporary. Nothing’s changed. Logan was never mine to hold.
“I promise,” I said.
And then Logan, after a pointed look from his brother: “I promise.”
It was the inverse of a marriage ceremony, with Mikey as the judge. Our vows to stay apart.
Pushing the memory away, I