“You don’t believe in fate?”
“I believe in choices. You made the choice to help your family. Dean made his choice. Don’t blame yourself for that.”
I tilt my head against the wall, feeling my hair drag across the uneven cement. “I guess you’re right. I just wanted to be able to do this for my grandfather. And for you. I wanted you to be able to get out of the Project.”
Wes presses his hand against my knee.
His black jacket is torn at the shoulder, and I can see part of his upper arm—lean muscles and lightly tanned skin. There’s a small, circular scar on his bicep. It reminds me of the one I’ve always had on my shoulder. I open my mouth to ask how he got it, but I’m interrupted by the sound of a man screaming. There’s a dull thump, a crack, and a long, low moan that seems to go on and on. Wes and I both tense as we listen to the noise.
Finally it stops, and I shiver in the silence. “What do you think they’re going to do with us?” I ask softly.
“I don’t know.” He keeps his voice carefully blank. “I don’t think they’ll kill us outright. They might send us through the TM. Maybe to some earlier time so we can’t get back.”
My stomach drops, but I force myself to smile at him. “At least we’d be together.”
Wes sits up straight, an intense expression on his face. Suddenly I can no longer ignore the questions I’ve been avoiding about Wes and me: What happens once this is all over? How can we ever be together?
“Do you mean that?” He says the words carefully.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
He stands and faces me. He looks down, then at me, then away again. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I pull away from the wall. “What is it?”
“It’s about why I followed you here.” He picks a spot on the ground and keeps his eyes trained on it as he speaks.
I’m silent, waiting, wondering. A little afraid.
“I’ve seen you before. I saw you in the woods that night.”
“What?”
“The night before you stumbled into the bunker, I was patrolling outside the Facility and I saw the light from the bonfire. I went to investigate, and then I saw you standing by a car.”
“It was you. You chased me.” My voice is sharp as I remember running through the trees, knowing something was bearing down on me.
He shakes his head, still intent on that one spot. “I didn’t. I just watched you. You were thinking so hard about something, it was like nothing else existed. But then you looked at the exact place I was standing. Right at me. It should have been impossible; no one could have known I was there. But you did.”
“I felt you watching me,” I admit quietly.
He’s silent for a moment. “I should have killed you when I saw you in the TM room.” His whole body is still. “Those are our orders. We shoot to kill any civilian that somehow finds a way into the Facility. No one can know that the Montauk Project exists. It’s the first thing you learn in training.”
He pauses, as if he’s gathering his courage. “When I first saw you, my instincts kicked in. I was going to kill you. And then I saw your face.” His voice gets softer, lower. “I recognized you immediately, and it made me pause—I couldn’t believe that you were the same girl from the night before. You had these huge green eyes. I’d never seen a color like your eyes. I could see how scared you were of me, but I also saw how angry and determined you were. I could see you thinking, plotting, trying to get out of the situation. I’d never seen anything like you.”
“Wes—” I try to catch his eye, but he won’t look up.
“I don’t see a lot of good in my world. The other recruits are all like me. Empty and hard.”
“You’re not like that,” I say harshly. I see his mouth tilt up, but he still won’t look at me.
“I don’t even have a name. I have a number. I’m Eleven. There were dozens of Elevens before me and there will be dozens of Elevens after me. As soon as I die, the next recruit will inherit the number. Wes was my name before they took me, but you’re the first person to call me that in six years. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
I want to go to him, to touch him, but I don’t want to break the flow of his words. It’s as though the dam that started to crack earlier in the jeep has now fully burst, and Wes can no longer contain what he’s feeling. So I stay still, my knuckles turning white as I squeeze my fingers together tightly.
“I saw you in that moment and it was like you were lit up from the inside. Then you fell into the machine, and I didn’t think. I just went after you. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
He shakes his head, then lifts it suddenly. Our eyes meet. “Going back for the pocket watch was my first act of defiance. You’re the second. If anyone knew I was here, we’d both be killed.”
I press my hand to my mouth. I can’t believe the risk he took in finding me again. “This whole time you’ve been—”
“I’m not good … at expressing how I feel. What I felt has never mattered before. I’ve been trying to learn over the past few days.” He says it as if feelings are a course you can study up on.
I smile and scoot to the edge of the bed until my feet are touching the floor. “Wes, you’re one of the most sensitive people I’ve ever met. They didn’t take
