Page 136 of A Silence So Divine

Sylvie opens her door first, the rest of us having no choice but to follow suit as the other vehicles line up behind us. My eyes struggle to adjust, and when they do, I can faintly see the motion of Sylvie’s lips as she gives instructions.

There’s no inspirational speech. No hugs, no pats on the back, no well wishes. It’s as casual as anything as they begin their march towards the Sanctuary, fists closed around blades and firearms.

Sylvie steps close, gripping my wrist and giving it a squeeze. At the camp, she told me that the two of us would stick together—she would watch my back if I watched hers. I admit that she got the short end of the stick in that deal.

We creep through the dark, and I attempt to embody the man that my brother is. Face stony, shoulders back, muscles taut.

If I find my brother…whenI find my brother, I hope I’ve made him proud.

My foot sinks into a low spot in the dirt, and I lurch forward. Sylvie is quick to grab my arm, shooting me a look. I begin to sign an apology, but a flurry of movement ahead stops me short.

Sylvie hastens her steps. Eyes peeled, I don’t see any flashes of light that would suggest gunfire. Bodies twist and turn in an inky dance, but as we reach them, they slow again.

The others step over something. Squinting, I come upon a mass on the ground. Actually, three masses.

Bodies. Three bodies, of three men I don’t recognize, with deep crimson flowing from a line on their throats.

My steps falter, and I twist my head over my shoulder even as we move, unable to look away. I should be grateful it wasn’t three of ours. But I just feel… heavy.

A palm grazes my back. Sylvie inclines her head toward the group, and I keep walking.

The more ground we cover, the more the night unrests. With the Sanctuary looming closer every second, the wind picks up, whipping through the empty fields and pushing against us. We have to fight with each step, demanding passage.

The sky, too, is limitless and foreboding. A yawning mouth, it opens further than what my vision can behold, no moon or stars to give any sense of distance, or limits. Where I can only imagine the horizon must sit, there are winks of light.

The promise of a storm.

With the back entrance to the building in sight, my trembling bones ease. All the anticipation leading up to this moment ebbs, making room for action. I’ve spent so much of the day thinking, it’s time todosomething.

A lantern sits on a post a few yards from the door, its light hardly helpful. Creeping close to the siding, we press against the outer wall, peering around to ensure we’re alone.

One of our men tries the handle. It’s unlocked, and he pulls it open without resistance. Darkness waits on the other side of the door, and when he disappears into it, I hold my breath. Gun hanging loosely at my side, I squeeze the grip in a series of three.

Not even a minute later, he emerges and points his thumb skyward.

We’re in the clear.

One by one, we filter in, crowding around the entrance. I can only hope my footsteps are silent, as well as everyone else’s.

Eyes narrowing into the unlit cavern, the only light source is the lamppost outside. Its glow carries through the small window above the door, and I realize we’re at the base of two staircases. One leading up, and one leading down.

Sylvie stands to my right, and we exchange a look. There’s a wariness to her as she raises her hands and addresses the group.“That was easy.”

A warning is nestled between her words.

Be careful. Stay wary. Don’t be too confident.

An unanimous nod, startlingly militant, and then the group splits, leaving Sylvie and I alone. Her attention is elsewhere, eyes unblinking. Two fine lines separate her eyebrows, and her jaw moves back and forth as she stares into nothingness. I raise my hand to touch her elbow, but her head snaps in my direction. The sudden movement makes me flinch.

“Slow and silent,”she reminds me.

As if I could forget.

Choosing the descending stairs, we make our way into the lower level. The dark is so consuming that I feel along the wall to steady myself on the steps. Without hearing, there’s no way to know that Sylvie is still ahead of me, but there’s a tension that radiates from her person. I focus on keeping close to her, tamping down my fear of what might greet us at the bottom.

A chill has the hairs on my arms standing at attention, the temperature dropping drastically the lower we get. The steps seem never ending—a nightmare where you run and run and run, but only stay in place.

I’d almost prefer that to what we actually find.