His voice was distorted from the mask, and it made her flinch. He sounded robotic, as if he were made of metal pieces and winding gears. But she saw that he had found a mask for her and she slid its leather thongs over her head.
It was like being in a bubble. The mask affected her every sense, and the world turned to shades of amber, slightly blurred. At first it was beautiful, but then Iris felt her panic rising. She felt like she was about to suffocate.
She clawed at the edges of the mask. Roman reached for her, turning the cylinder that rested near her chin. Cool air began to flow.
“Take a deep breath,” he said.
She nodded, sweat trickling down her back. She breathed and calmed the tide of her panic. She could keep it at bay, because she had him now. They would be safe.
“Kitt,” she said, wondering how her voice sounded to him. If it sounded like she was composed of sharp edges and cold steel. “Kitt, we—”
He took her hand. His grip was tight again, almost punishingly so, as his fingers wove with hers. I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes.
“We need to go,” he said, but she had the sense that he wasn’t looking at her but at something beyond her. Perhaps he saw Keegan, giving them the sign to flee. As Iris began to turn to see for herself, Roman tugged on her arm. “Come with me. We’ll be faster if you don’t look behind.”
He dragged her around the barricade, into the shadows of a quiet side street. She felt dizzy, but she focused on her breathing and followed him. Her hearing was not as keen in the mask, but she could hear her boots pounding on the street and a distant shout.
Roman paused at the intersection. She thought he was catching his breath until he glanced behind again and hurried to pull her onward, into a street that was swarming with gas. Iris winced as she followed him into the cloud, waiting to feel its sting in her lungs and her eyes. But the mask shielded her, filtering the air, and they emerged on the other side of High Street.
Roman hesitated again, as if he were lost.
Iris finally gained her bearings. They were far from the lorry, and she felt a cold prickling at the nape of her neck. Something didn’t feel quite right.
“Kitt? We need to go east. Attie and Marisol are waiting for us. Here, this way.”
She began to guide him in the correct direction, but he jerked her back to his side. “I’ll lead us, Iris. This way is faster.”
He hauled her onward before she could protest. She tripped over her boots, trying to keep pace with him. He must be scared, but it still struck her as odd. He wasn’t acting normal. She tried to study him as they ran, but the mask softened everything, and it hurt her eyes to strain them.
“Where did you get the masks?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we be using them to help those trapped in the gas?”
He didn’t answer. He only progressed to a faster run.
She finally realized it when they reached the edge of town. Her mind sharpened as they ran into the golden field. Roman was no longer limping. He was running as he had before his injuries.
She couldn’t catch her breath as she watched him sprint, cutting through the sweep of the grass. Powerful and strong, dragging her in his wake. The wind began to blow at their backs, as if pushing them onward.
“Kitt … Kitt, wait. I need to stop.” She pulled on his hand, which continued to hold hers like a vise.
“It’s not safe yet, Iris. We have to keep moving,” he insisted, but he eased to a jog.
They were almost to the place where they had once collided. Where Iris had covered his body with hers, desperate to keep him alive.
She would no longer be dragged by him like this. Something wasn’t right.
She sank to a walk, which forced him to also slow down. He glanced at her, and she wished she could see his face. She wished that she could see where his gaze was resting, because his hand tightened on hers.
“We need to hurry, Iris. It’s not safe.”
Why did he continue to say those words?
She had the overwhelming urge to look behind her. And she gave into it, angling her body so she could glance over her shoulder. The mask made it awkward, but she saw something in the field. A moving shadow, as if someone was chasing them.
He yanked on her arm. “Don’t look behind you.”
“Wait.” She dug her heels into the soil and fully faced the town. Her eyes focused on that strange shadow, which she realized was a man. A tall man with dark hair, running after her in a stilted gait.
She ripped her gas mask away, desperate to see without the distortion of the amber lens. The world flooded around her, bright and sharp. Yellow and green and gray. Her hair tangled across her face.
She saw her pursuer with shocking detail, even as twenty meters of golden grass stretched between them.
It was Roman.
“Iris!” he screamed.
Her heart stalled. Her blood turned to ice as she watched him run, his face anguished. Blood stained the front of his jumpsuit. He stumbled as if his leg was ailing him, but he regained his balance, pushing himself to keep running. To close the distance between them.
But if that was Roman, then who was she with? Who was holding her hand, dragging her across this field to the distant woods?
Iris looked at the masked stranger, wide eyed with fear. His chest was heaving, and he was speaking in that distorted tone.
“Iris? Stay with me. I’m trying to help you. Iris!”
She ripped her hand from his and spun, dashing toward Roman.
She took three strides before the stranger’s arms came around her, haul ing her backward. Her anger burned like wildfire, and she fought him. She kicked and swung her elbows and dashed the back of her head against his mask, provoking grunts and curses from him.
“What do you want with me? Let me go! Let me go!” She dug her nails into his hands, drawing blood. She raged, keeping her gaze on Roman as he collapsed in the grass.
He was only fifteen meters away.
The wind gusted, blowing the gas in their direction. She froze when she could no longer see Avalon Bluff but only a wall of green, steadily making its way to them.
Roman needed to get up. Get up, get up! Her heart screamed, and she watched as he rose again, limping to her.
“Run, Kitt!” she shouted. Her voice was hoarse, frayed by terror.
The man holding her turned her around and gave her shoulders a good shake. Her neck snapped, her thoughts rolling through her like marbles.
“Stop fighting me!” he demanded. But he must have seen the fear that was shining within her, because his voice gentled. “Stop fighting me, Little Flower.”
Her world cracked in two.
And yet … hadn’t she hoped for this?
She found his name, hidden deep in her heart. A name that burned her throat. “Forest?”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s me. And I’m here to keep you safe. So stop fighting me and come on.” His hand found hers again, lacing their fingers. He tugged, expecting her to willingly follow him now.
She stiffened, pulling back. “We have to get Kitt.”
“There’s no time for him. Come on, we need to run—”
“What do you mean there’s no time for him!” she cried. “He’s right there!” She turned, desperate to see him again. But there was only the dance of the grass, bending to the wind, and the swirl of gas, creeping closer.