Twisted Metal Heart - Eve Langlais Page 0,38

he felt shame. How dare he complain about living? Was this what he would do with his second chance? Mope inside Haven?

He sulked a little more. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t we?” Zara stood and began fidgeting with her tools. “We all suffer loss. It’s how we handle it that determines how we survive.”

“And you ain’t handling it well, in case that wasn’t clear,” Vera added.

“What do you suggest I do?”

“What’s your heart telling you?” Zara eyed him.

“Don’t you mean my head?” he asked.

Zara waved a hand and shook her head. “Your mind tends to rely on logic and shit. It’s your heart, though, that’s making you miserable. So figure out what it wants and go after it.”

“What if it’s telling me I need to leave?”

“Then you’d better send us messages to let us know you’re all right. I think you know what you want to do.” Vera sounded so serious.

He did. “I want to find Haven a new home.” Because, while there had been discussion of sending people out, Axel couldn’t spare those needed to maintain the safety of Haven. But Titan was expendable, and he might have left out one important aspect of his story. He didn’t tell them about the tunnels. He’d told them he’d broken down beyond the humps and hiked in.

Why had he lied? He couldn’t have said, except the tunnels and Burton, even Alfred, were his secret. His…escape.

Vera assumed he meant find a new home via research, because, later that day, a tablet was dropped off loaded with all the rumors, gossip, and maps they had at their disposal. But Titan already knew he wouldn’t find a place in those notes.

He needed to leave Haven and return to the tunnels. The moment he made the decision, he saw no reason to wait. He left early the next morning. He wanted to be long gone before Axel and the others could return to change his mind. He’d memorized the location of the hump with the tunnel entrance he’d emerged from. It took him less time to reach it with his leg cooperating. It wasn’t hard to spot either, given it still oozed bits of fog that misted upon hitting daylight.

Chances were the monster, or whatever that thing was, remained inside. Obviously, it didn’t like the sun. He eyed the almost noon brilliance and realized he’d have to work fast. He pulled the light torch from his bag, feeling bad he’d “borrowed” it. However, he needed a bigger hole. More light in order to push back the Morass—the name he’d given the nebulous monster.

The brightness of the torch was dimmed behind the lenses of his goggles. He cut as wide a door as he could reach. Even longer across. When only the tiniest of threads held it, he kicked. The big metal rectangle fell with a clang inside. He stood and waited. Noticed the Morass pooling around the edges, wisping into white steam. The light didn’t penetrate far enough to clear all the way to the back. He needed to get back to the hatch underground.

He pulled a slim stick from his pocket. A crack and it began to sizzle and spark a bright light. Before he could think twice, he loped across the floor. The very thought of My leg has to work actually made it worse.

Stomp, drag, stomp, drag. The only good news was the Morass hissed when it neared his flaming torch. Given it didn’t like the light, he plunged into its foggy body, tunneling through. The Morass didn’t leave a hint of moisture on the skin. The foggy nature of it thickened so he could almost grab it, and even his flickering wand began to struggle. He pulled forth a second light stick and snapped it off his leg. There was more than hissing as the brightness pushed back the dark.

Screams. Faint ones, as if from far away. Whispers. Close and circling. Teasing. Suddenly he was past it, in an open space that gave him only a moment to halt his momentum before smashing into a wall. He veered and aimed for the blasted open door and the storage room beyond. The Morass didn’t follow. Once he got inside the room, a glance over his shoulder showed it hesitating at the doorway.

Odd.

The hatch in the floor remained open, and he practically jumped down it. He forced himself to go slow, pause on the ladder, and close the hatch behind him. Either the fog thing was already down here, or it preferred the hangar. Best