Towering - By Alex Flinn Page 0,86

car’s door and started to get out. I saw that she was old and bent, and it was difficult for her. Yet, she had come to me every day, all these years. I felt warm and slipped out of my coat, my mother’s coat. My hair would be enough. For one second, though, I savored the scent of her. I would never see her, but she gave me life, and she left me the letter. It was enough to go on. Ahead of me, in the dim light, I could barely make out Mama, opening the car door. A light went on inside. She bent and took something out, then closed it quick. She hobbled back toward the car, holding it out to me.

It was my brush. I knew it as if I’d seen it only yesterday. I took it in my hand and touched it. I ran my finger along it. I began to brush my hair. As I did, I heard a click. Something opened, and a key fell on to the shallow snow.

I picked it up and examined it in the dim light. It was heavy and old. I didn’t know what it opened, but I knew it was important.

I clutched it in my fingers and said to Mama, “Go.”

Then, I wound my hair as best I could around my neck and shoulders, and I waited.

51

Wyatt

I sensed that she was close. Her voice sounded like she was in the room with me. It must have been nighttime now, and I hoped that the darkness would protect her. I could still hear the waterfall, the people working, from outside my door. Were they insane? Enslaved? Or did the rhapsody enable them to work endlessly? I wondered where Carl and Henry were, and suddenly, I didn’t want Rachel to come. I wanted her to run, hide. Even if I never saw her again, it would be okay. I wanted to save her, save her as I hadn’t saved Tyler.

I said, aloud, “Rachel, I changed my mind. You have to leave.”

A moment later, I heard her reply. “I cannot leave. I have to do this.”

“But Rachel, you can’t. It’s not safe.”

She didn’t answer.

52

Rachel

I waited until Mama had been gone awhile. I hoped she was okay, but I knew that, no matter what, I was going. I heard Wyatt’s voice in my head, urging me to be safe. I knew I wouldn’t. I wished I could hear Mama, know what was happening, but I could not. I worried about her. Everyone was trying to protect me, at great risk to themselves. It wasn’t fair. I would rather risk my own life than be left here, worrying.

When Mama had been gone several minutes, I checked to make sure no one was outside, nor on the road. Then, I opened the car door. After making sure to pull all my hair from the car, I stepped onto the still-snowy ground.

“Rachel, please don’t go,” Wyatt’s voice said.

“I’m coming,” I said, “so it would be more helpful if you could tell me where to go, what to do.”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m underground and can’t see anything.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll find you.”

He seemed to know that was the end of the conversation. At least, he stopped talking. I walked, dragging my hair behind me, next to the bushes and peered around at the building. I could see Mama in the doorway, talking to someone, even arguing. What if he came out, looking for me? With my long hair, I was vulnerable. It was like a cat’s tail, always hanging out, giving the cat away.

There was an opening in the bushes, a spot with several trees. I pushed through them and, gathering my hair into several loops, tried to walk closer, pushing against a tree ahead of me.

Suddenly, I heard a crack. Then, the tree I had touched disappeared from under my hand. It broke in two, the top half collapsing against the other trees.

Had I done that? Was I so strong that I had broken a tree, albeit a small one, without even thinking? Had my hair given me the strength of Samson after all?

More carefully this time, I walked through the remaining trees. I tried to avoid pushing against them, but when one proved too tight a squeeze, I shoved it. It gave way, and I stepped around it.

Finally, I was in a place where I could see the door, see Mama through the trees.

Only