The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 20

I sleep in haphazard fits and starts before finally giving up and tossing aside the blanket, sliding out of bed and searching through the midnight gloom for some clothes. I hurriedly pull on a pair of loose harem pants and a cropped tunic, not bothering to dress warmly, knowing I'll be working up a sweat soon enough.

I shove my feet into my most worn pair of boots and tie my hair back, heading towards the still-open balcony doors.

The night breeze kisses my face as I step outside. The hammering in my heart has yet to cease but I will attempt to outrun it nonetheless. I climb up onto the ledge of the balcony and grip the thick rope strung between my terrace and the wall surrounding the Palace yard.

I finger the coarse cord, glancing upwards and recalling the night Will surprised me with this escape route. I had lamented to him about having to take the stairs every time I wanted to leave the grounds and he took it upon himself to install a rope connecting my bedroom to the outer wall. He took my hand and brought me out to the balcony, smiled that half grin at me and handed over a custom-fitted handhold.

I examine the handlebar now, the steel feeling icy-cold in my grip. In one smooth motion I loop it over the rope and jump, holding tightly to the handles.

I slide smoothly and with breathtaking speed along the length of the rope, the moonlit air streaming by me, invigorating after the confining staleness of my war-torn bedroom.

When Will first gifted me this zip line we slid down it one after the other, whooping and hollering with exhilaration in our excitement for the controlled fall. Now, I fly silently, reaching the end of the line and planting my feet on the Palace wall, looking back up as if expecting to see him sliding to a stop next to me. The abandoned balcony stares back, darkened and impassive.

I leave the handlebar dangling over the rope and climb down the other side of the wall, darting across the wide road before reaching the first of the former Courtly towers and shimmying up its facade with a practiced sureness.

Finally, I am ready to run.

My feet move as if controlled by a force larger than myself. I tear across the open roof, pushing myself off the ledge and sailing towards my goal.

My heartbeat picks up as I soar, some semblance of who I used to be fluttering inside my chest. I hold on to that feeling for as long as I am able, the weight of Will's words shocking me back into the present when I land.

My breaths are heavy as I roll out of my crouched position and I refuse to pause before taking off once again for the next ledge. If I run hard enough, I might be able to outpace this leaden feeling.

I forcefully push aside my raging thoughts, concentrating on the run, on the leaping, on the flying. I grasp desperately for my sense of self, feeling the burning tightness of rage coursing through my limbs as my heart threatens to pull me back under.

Faster and faster, racing across the stone rooftops, directionless but for the desperate pull to reach something I once had.

The buildings and alleyways blur below me, indecipherable as anything but tools to propel myself forward, further, higher, faster.

The ghost chases me. I stifle a roar of frustration and push harder, my limbs, lungs and heart burning with the heat of an unquenchable fire.

Damn him. Damn him for everything he said he loved about me and took back. Damn him for his accusations and his weaknesses posing as strengths. What could he truly know of me? To him I am a spy and a revolutionary, but I know the truth. I am no one; a common thief betrayed and abandoned by anyone I would dare get close to.