The City Of Death

Chapter Seven- Atlas

"Well, now, Rosalie, you're quite the mess right now." I look down at the small girl, smiling as she smiles right back up at me with a cheeky grin.

"You no tell my mommy!" she demands, and I laugh. Cheeky little thing, she is. I wonder which parent she gets that from. She may get it from both, but I have a feeling she gets it more from Annalise. Now, Israel can be a sarcastic bastard when he's in a good mood, but Annalise? Her tongue can be as fiery as her hair at times. But I don't need to tell her what her daughter has been getting up to. She'll find out soon enough.

"Hey, my lips are sealed. I'll let you tell her why you're covered in mud," I say, and Rosalie giggles, before jumping back in the puddle. It finally rained a few days ago, breaking the heat and giving us a much-needed respite. Rosalie's been having the time of her life playing in the puddles and getting into as much mud as she could. Annalise, on the other hand, has not been having much fun constantly washing the mud off of her daughter's clothes and body.

"Hey, Atlas, we've got something- By the sun. Rosalie, what have you been doing?" I turn to see Israel a few paces away, staring wide-eyed at his daughter. Rosalie grins up at him from where she's sitting in the puddle, splashing the water with a giggle. "Annalise is going to kill me."

"Nah, I think Annalise'll be fine," I respond, and Israel turns to me, eyebrow quirked. "As long you're the one who cleans her up this time." Israel laughs sheepishly as I pick Rosalie up by her armpits, trying to keep as much mud off of me as possible. That's her father's job, not mine. She protests a little, kicking her small legs and flinging mud everywhere as she asks to be put back in the puddle. "Here you go. Have your little mud girl."

"Thanks for that," Israel says as he takes Rosalie, winching slightly as she immediately climbs onto her shoulders, smearing his clothes, face, and hair with mud. "Rosalie, now we both need a bath."

"No bath for me! Just bath for Daddy!" Rosalie responds, a flurry of giggles following her words.

"Sounds like you've been told," I say with a smirk.

"Oh, sure, now it's funny. Just wait until you have a toddler!"

"Me? Have a toddler? Yeah, right."

"Atlas, you really need to get off your 'I'm-going-to-be-a-bachelor-for-life' kick. If I can find a woman to marry me, I know you can," Israel says, glancing up at his daughter. "Alright, Rosalie, let's go clean you up."

"No bath!"

"Rosalie, it's not a question. You're dirty, you need a bath. Now, either I can give you a bath, or your mommy can. Make your choice." Rosalie's eyebrows furrow for a moment as she thinks hard about her decision.

"You give me bath."

"Good choice. Hopefully I'm able to wash your hair like your mommy does. Even after two years, I still haven't figured out how to wash those curls properly," Israel admits.

"Well, I suppose it takes one to know one," I reply, and Israel nods in agreement. He turns to head back to camp, probably to check the log to see if anyone else is at the lake. For his sake, I hope no one is. I wouldn't want to be him when Annalise sees that Rosalie has once again gotten into the mud. Before he gets too far, something pops into my mind. "Hey, Israel!"

"Hmm?" He turns around slightly, eyebrow raised in question as Rosalie taps a beat onto his head. She's going to be a musician someday, just like her father.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"Oh, right! One of the Renegades, I think it was Taryn, spotted something along the river. She watched for a moment before running back to camp. A Citizen is coming this way, following the river. Taryn and a few other Renegades went out to greet them and show them the trail," Israel tells me.

"A Citizen?" I ask in disbelief. Very few Citizens manage to get out alone. "They're making the trip in the daylight? Out in the open?" When I send a team to get new recruits out of the City, they never travel out in the open. They always travel through the tunnels. It's safer that way. There's less chance of being caught by the Vultures and as long as an experienced Renegade leads the way, it's hard to get lost.

"Yeah. It's something, isn't it? They must have been pretty desperate to get out of the City."

"Yeah, I'll say. Traveling here above ground. They're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," I say. Israel raises his eyebrows, and I start to laugh. Rosalie doesn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation. She's much more interested in using her father's head as a drum.

"Atlas, that's the route I take when I leave the City."

"Yeah, and?" I ask, and he levels me with a glare. "I still think it's stupid. You know how to get through the tunnels. You just don't use them for the dramatic flair."

"No, I don't use them because after my time in the City, I need to see the sun." I look at him, and when I see he's looking at the ground, I give him a small smile of sympathy. He hates sympathy, so I would never look at him like that when he can see me. It's still how I feel. I want to help Israel and find a way to keep him from getting dragged back into the City. So far, I haven't figured it out, and neither have Savannah and Annalise. All three of us are trying to figure it out, but so far, we've had no success.

"Well, as long as you come back to us safely each time, that's all that matters," I say, and he looks up with a sad smile. His smile only turns happy when Rosalie lays her stomach on his head, trying to reach down and give him a hug. It doesn't really work, but the fact that his child was able to tell that he was upset and needed comfort made all the difference to him. "So, shall we figure out who the mystery person is?"

"Yeah, they'll just have to meet Rosalie when she's covered in mud."

"I'm more worried about Annalise's reaction than the new recruit's," I laugh, and Israel laughs with me. That much is true. Annalise truly is tired of seeing Rosalie all muddy and having to clean her off every time. But as long as Israel is the one to clean her off this time, I'm sure Annalise will be fine. Maybe a little frustrated, but she'll be fine. The three of us make our way to camp in comfortable silence. We've just reached the edge of the fire pits when the group of Renegades comes into view. Savannah and Gemma are there to greet the newcomer and get them settled, and the group parts so the two women can start their welcome speech.

My heart stops and my whole body freezes when the identity of the newcomer is revealed.

"Skye," I whisper. I barely notice Israel looking at me, before looking at the newcomer. I can't stop staring. It's her. It's her. After so much time, she's finally come back to us. She hasn't changed at all. She's just as beautiful as the last time I saw her.

"Atlas." I turn to Israel, who's looking at me with concern. Rosalie seems indifferent to the conversation, more interested in the woman she's never met. "It's not Skye."

"Yes, it is. It has to be!"

"Atlas, I know you want it to be. But it's not. It's not Skye." I look back at the newcomer, who hasn't noticed us yet. She's listening intently to Savannah and Gemma, looking them up and down, seemingly trying to get a feel for them. That's when I start to realize. If it really was Skye, she wouldn't look exactly as she had then. It's been fifteen years. She would be older, just as I am. And if Skye was going to come back to us, she would have done it a long ago.

It's like Israel said. I want it to be Skye. But it's not.

Then who is it? Who is this person that looks so much like Skye? The person that's bringing all of these old memories to my mind? The memories I've tried to forget? The mystery person looks so much like her, enough to confuse me. She's got Skye's jet-black hair. She even keeps it long, just as Skye did. She has the same light complexion. I can't get a good measure from this distance, but it looks like she's the same height. She's even got the same high cheekbones and diamond-shaped face. I wonder if she has the same emerald-green eyes.

She looks like she's in her early twenties, the same age Skye was when I saw her last. That's when the answer hits me like a bucket of cold water, the shock reverberating into my very core. Only one person would look so much like Skye. Only one person could remind me so much of her. The person that's the same age now as Skye was back then. Another person I haven't seen for fifteen years.

Macy.

At long last.