A part of me would prefer running for my life rather than stand here under this boy’s still gaze—but I can’t force myself to move.
“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats. There’s something quiet in his voice that makes me pause. “But you can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before the guards come to investigate the noise from the stairs.”
I dig my fingers into the concrete at my back, not sure if I can trust what he says.
“Where should I go?”
“With me.” He points to one of the doors along the back wall of doors. “I’ll help you hide until it’s safe.”
I scoff. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going in there with you.”
“The guards are coming. If they find you here, they’ll kill you.”
I study his face. His jaw is clenched and his mouth is tight. It should probably intimidate me, but his eyes are soft, almost pleading. I can see that he badly wants me to trust him. I just don’t know why.
If I try to run away from him, I’ll be further from escaping than I am now. If I stay here, the guards will find me. Kill me, according to this boy. My best option is to believe what he’s telling me. But I really don’t want to go back there.
I cross my arms over my chest. “If you want to help me, then get me out of here. And not back through the bunker. Open the door.”
He hesitates, still watching me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. After a long moment, he finally nods.
He steps forward and I instinctually jerk back. The edges of his mouth rise so slightly I barely see them move. He lifts his hand in a gesture of peace. Everything he does and says seems measured and deliberate. “If I’m going to open the door, I need to get to the lock. It’s behind you.”
“Okay. Okay.” I don’t take my eyes off him, but I step away from the concrete. He walks toward the door. I watch as he pulls something from his pocket. It’s a long, thin metal rectangle with random shapes carved into it. He reaches forward and slides the metal into an almost invisible opening. The concrete seems to groan, then begins to shift and open.
The second there’s a large enough space for me to fit through I push myself out of the bunker and into the woods. I have to shut my eyes against the sudden brightness. I had gotten so used to the artificial light in the underground labs that the sun momentarily blinds me.
Squinting and blinking, I stumble across the open area of grass until I reach the tree line. Something touches my upper arm and I yank away. The boy freezes, his hand outstretched.
I back up quickly. “Why did you just help me get out of there? Why didn’t you turn me in?”
His face is expressionless, but his eyes are watchful. I notice his features: sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose, as though he’s broken it more than once. Black eyes. Black hair.
He’s beautiful. Thinking it shocks me a little. I’ve been so busy being afraid of him that I hadn’t really noticed him.
He interrupts my thoughts when he tells me, “If they found you, they would have killed you.”
I step away from him, retreating into the trees. “Why do you care?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Who are you?”
“Elev—” He pauses. “Wes. I’m Wes.”
“But who are you?”
He frowns, making his jaw look even harder. “We shouldn’t talk here. They’ll see us. We’re too exposed.”
I look behind him. The concrete door, now wide-open, begins to groan shut again. We’re standing just inside the circle of trees, barely out of sight. He’s right. We need to get out of here.
He steps toward me cautiously, waiting to see how I’ll react. I turn around and begin to walk into the woods. He quickly overtakes me and leads us deeper into the trees.
“Be careful,” he says over his shoulder. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
I glance down at my feet with surprise. Somewhere along the way I lost my sandals, and I never even noticed.
We move quickly through the underbrush. Leaves crunch under my feet. The sun is hazy, and I sense that it’s late afternoon, maybe even early evening. I wonder when it stopped raining. I also wonder where my grandfather is and if he’s looking for me.
I’m so distracted that I step on the pointed edge of a stick. Pain shoots up my leg and I hiss out loud.
Wes stops abruptly and turns to look at me. “Are you okay?”
I jump up and down on one foot as I try to assess the damage. “I’m fine. I think I’m fine.”
“Sit.” He points to a large boulder between two trees. “We can stop here. We’re far enough from the facility. Their guards can’t comb the forest around the base. It would be too suspicious. They’ll send out scouts, but not for a while.”
I limp over to the boulder and sit. Wes’s gaze is trained on the woods around me, behind me. I can’t stop staring at him. Who is he? If he works for the Montauk Project, why is he helping me?
Clearly something huge is happening underground at Camp Hero. It may be the Montauk Project or it may be something else entirely. Wes is obviously caught up in whatever it is. He should be dragging me back to the underground labs, not helping me escape.
“What happened in there? I fell in that machine, and I pushed a button, and everything went …” I shudder, unable to finish.
He looks at me, then down at the ground.
“The less you know, the safer you’ll be,” he responds.
I sit up straighter. “What does that mean?”
“Listen to me.” He takes a step closer. “I will make sure you live, but we have to go back into the facility.”
“I don’t understand. Tell me what that means.”
“There are things I can’t tell you.” His voice
