Page 78 of The Infinite Glade
Subject A3
They walked down one of the long corridor tunnels adjoined to the others, lugging the supplies for the Sequencers in silence until finally Frypan broke it. “I’m telling you, those Grievers have a mind of their own, just like in the Glade . . .” Isaac watched as Frypan’s eyes looked like they went to another place, far away. “They killed so many . . .”
They kept following Cian down the dimly lit cave that smelled like ocean spray against wet rocks. He spoke to them over his shoulder.
“The first Grievers weren’t calibrated—they truly did have minds of their own. The early Sequencers dealt with many deaths from them, too.”
“No one hates them more than me.” Erros turned to Isaac, who doubted anyone could hate Grievers more than Old Man Frypan. Glader of Old.
“This is bonkers,” Miyoko said, shaking her head. “No one will believe us.”
But Cian’s optimism had not waned in the least. “Yeah. Imagine how hard it’s been forusto convince the Sequencers. There’s so much disbelief that accompanies the truth. Having you here to tell the Senate about the outside world will do more than any Cure ever could. We can’t thank you enough.” He held the box in front of him as if it were a prayer.
“And if they don’t believe a single thing we say?” Jackie asked.
“What if they take us someplace we can’t . . .” Isaac whispered to Ximena.
“Get out?” she finished.
He nodded. He’d already lost track of how many turns they’d made and Frypan didn’t have his stick to drag in the dirt. Not to mention he seemed lost in his own world, right now.
“We won’t stay long, trust me.” Erros took the heavy box of supplies from Isaac’s grasp. “Just remember, don’t say anything negative about the outside world.”
“No wars, no Cranks, no death,” Jackie said, the sarcasm thick. “Nothing bad ever happens. Got it.”
“They’re not going to take Frypan for tests or anything, are they?” Ximena asked.
Cian and Erros exchanged a look. Erros let out a slight, crooked smile. “Tests?” He shook his head. “No . . . but hispatiencemight be tested. He’s the first Subject A to ever come home.”
Homewasn’t a word Isaac expected Cian to use. “What do you mean?”
“Subject A3.” Cian pointed at his own neck. “You know, Frypan’s tattoo. Group A. He was a part of the very first Sequence. . . . This guy’s as good as royalty here.” He walked them farther into the tunnel, and now there was much more light, its source not clear.
Old Man Frypan shuffled his feet forward—in the absence of his walking stick, he’d put his arm around Jackie. Isaac didn’t expect to see such bright light in a cave far underground, but they were soon walking under a filtered sunlight that held all the colors of the rainbow.
The City of the Sequencers was very close, now.
La belleza perece en la vida, pero es inmortal en el arte.
Beauty perishes in life, but is immortal in art.
Ximena couldn’t keep her eyes fully open. Between the beauty before her and the relaxant injected by the Griever, it all felt like a dream. Like she might be back home, under one of Abuela’s blankets.
“It’s so bright . . .” Jackie covered her eyes.
When Cian and Erros had first mentioned the Sequencers living under-earth, Ximena had imagined people living in a cave system would have to be blind, like burrow animals in her Village. Those born in darkness had no need to see . . . but it was clear to her in that moment that the Sequencers were so much more. She squinted her eyes after walking so long through the cold and dark tunnels. All of them used their hands to shadow their faces as they gawked at the city of Sequencers.
“What are these materials?” Jackie asked. Unique arches and ornate molding with statues of lions and countless other things adorned the corners.
“Earth minerals,” Cian answered without elaborating.
“Minerals?” Isaac looked at Frypan as Cian led the group through gold-lined walls, then out to a terrace that overlooked a city filled with more vegetation than stone, from which most of the beautiful buildings had been carved. A false sun shone down from the roof of the cavern—far, far above them. People milled about here and there in the vast city of low structures and parks.
“Wow . . .” Ximena couldn’t find any other words. “This is . . .” She turned to Isaac and Frypan, but they just stood there, frozen in wonder.
“It’s unbelievable,” Isaac finally replied.
Ximena leaned over the decorative molding along the arched terrace and slowly felt more like herself. “This is . . . at least a century old?” she asked.
