Page 28 of Don't Let Me Go
Racing like a hunted animal, I turn down my street, fighting against a frightened crowd who are fleeing in the opposite direction. Some of the people are clutching hastily packed bags, no doubt filled with whatever gold or valuables they managed to grab before forsaking their homes. It occurs to me that my family might already have done the same, that I’m wasting precious time running to an empty house when I should be making my way out of the city, but I need to make certain.
My brother, Quintus, is only six, and my sister, Flavia, is not yet two. If Mother is out shopping or visiting neighbors, then my siblings will have no one to carry them to safety except their nurse. And purchased loyalty can go only so far in times of catastrophe.
I push forward against the clamoring tide of bodies, and after what feels like hours, I reach my house. My mother, thank the gods, is outside, shouting instructions at the servants to calm our horses and load our cart with provisions.
My tutor Philodorus carries Quintus, who wails into his shoulder,while the wet nurse rocks Flavia in her arms. My relief at seeing my family is as overwhelming as it is fleeting. None of us will truly be safe until we are out of the city and as far away as possible from the mountain of death.
“Lucius!” Mother shouts, catching sight of me. Her fine golden hair, always so impeccably coiffed, is wild in the wind as she rushes across the street to me. It reminds me of fire dancing on a breeze. She pulls me into an embrace, and the sheer force of her love is almost unbearable. I feel as though I’m a child of four, and all I want is to hide in her arms as I did when thunderstorms used to chase me from my bed.
But there’s no time for fear or comfort. There’s no time for anything. Except, perhaps, the most important things.
“Thank the gods you’re here!” She weeps as the sky falls around us. The air is thick with a cloying, noxious smell that burns my eyes and lungs. Meanwhile, the streets are filling up with rocks that continue to batter our heads like burning hail.
“Is everyone all right?” I ask.
“We’re fine. But we need to get out of the city. I’m just taking a few—”
Mother turns to Leonidas, who has served our family for years, and he answers her unspoken question with a nod. “The cart is ready, Lady Julia.”
“Then let’s make haste!”
Mother turns to go and attempts to pull me after her, but my feet refuse to follow. I have a different journey to take, one I’ve postponed only so I could be sure of my family’s safety.
“Come on, Lucius, don’t dawdle!”
“Go without me,” I say, my voice surprisingly calm despite the surrounding storm.
“What?” she gasps, her eyes wild with panic.
“Go without me,” I repeat, this time with urgency. “I’ll meet you at our villa in Sorrento, but there’s something I have to do.”
Mother’s hand flashes out, quick as a talon, and clasps my wrist in a crushing grip. “Are you mad? We have to gonow, Lucius! The world is ending!”
She’s right. Nonetheless, I know what I must do.
“You have Leonidas and Philodorus. They’ll make sure you get out of the city. Just head toward the South Gate and keep to the wider streets.”
“I’m not leaving without you!”
I pull myself free from her iron grip and back away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice starting to tremble. Her face etched with terror is so pitiful that if I stay a moment longer, I know I’ll lose my resolve. I cast a quick glance at my brother and sister, both of whom are too petrified to even notice me, and hope against hope that this won’t be the last time we’re all together.
Then I turn from my mother’s pleading eyes and run into the darkness of the dying city in search of Marcus.
The streets are cluttered with rocks as I make my way toward his family’s villa. With every step, my feet sink deeper into the rubble, and still more stones continue to fall from the sky, piling higher and higher, burying everything.
The air grows thick with ash. It’s like breathing sand, and it coats my body in a heavy gray soot. At least there are no longer any crowds to fight against. The streets are deserted—everyone has either taken refuge in their homes or fled.
It occurs to me that Marcus might be among those who have fled. But I can’t leave Pompeii until I’m certain he’s not at his villa.
Another great tremor shakes the earth, and I stumble as I turn down the narrow alley that I’ve used so often when sneaking off to be with Marcus. It’s cramped and dark but the high walls on both sides provide a temporary shelter from the sky’s relentless barrage of rocks. Pausing to catch my breath, I wipe the ash from my burning eyes, and,to my surprise, I see a light up ahead—a torch moving through the darkness. Its weak flame struggles against the storm but it’s bright enough that I can make out that familiar head of golden-bronze hair.
“Marcus!” I shout, rushing toward him.
He looks like a ghost. There’s scarcely an inch of his body not stained with ash. Even so, I throw my arms around him and clutch him to me, scarcely daring to believe my eyes or my good fortune.
“What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you with your family?” he shouts over the roaring winds, staring into my eyes as if to assure himself that I’m not some fevered illusion.
