Free Wordless by AdriAnne Strickland Page B

way. It sounds important, but that means leaving is more important.”
    “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” She snatched her shirt from the table and turned away—shyly?—to pull it over her head. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice muffled.
    The incomprehensible letters shifted over her shoulders before they were covered. They looked almost alive in her skin. Guess that made sense, for the Word of Life.
    I smiled, but it felt hollow. “I hope you liked your trip in the garbage bag.”
    “Why?” She jerked her shirt all the way down.
    “Because you’re about to take a ride on a garbage barge.”

eight
    Before we left the old utility room under the bridge, Khaya pulled a crumpled ivy leaf out of her pocket.
    “What’s that for?” I asked, cracking the door to peek out into the dusk. A couple ladies had arrived to start their “day,” but luckily they hadn’t yet noticed us in their usual space. They were too busy standing around outside, chatting in the brazen tones I always admired, bejeweled hands on their hips.
    “A diversion. Both for the women outside and for anyone hunting us. I picked it up while you were gone.” She crouched down in front of the cracked door, careful of her ankle, and set the leaf just outside. “Which way are we headed?”
    “West, downriver. We need to get to the dock.”
    “Isn’t the dock all the way upriver, on the lakeshore?”
    “The one for yachts is. We’re trying to catch a trash barge, remember? You think rich people want to share their dock with garbage?”
    “Oh, right,” she said, sounding embarrassed. And then she started whispering to the leaf.
    I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the leaf sure as hell must have. It sprouted a vine that went snaking out of her hand, and then—zip!—it took off out of sight, racing as fast as a lit fuse. Except this fuse was growing, not shrinking. Which made me wonder what would happen when it reached wherever it was headed.
    I didn’t have to wonder for long, maybe a minute. One of the ladies outside gasped, and then they all were crying out in amazement.
    Khaya and I slipped out of the utility room, crossing behind the ladies, hugging the river. Their backs were to us as they pointed and stared at a group of buildings to the southeast.
    Even in the twilight, it was pretty obvious that the buildings had turned green. They’d been stone a minute before, but now they were completely covered in ivy.
    I was tempted to point and stare too, until Khaya’s fingers clamped around my wrist and gave me a tug in the opposite direction.
    “You … grew that ?” I hissed, starting down the cobbled waterfront road, still eyeing the explosion of green over my shoulder. “From a lea f ?”
    “Yes,” Khaya said simply, limping alongside me, keeping her head down. She could walk, but her pace was pretty slow.
    “That’s thousands, hundreds of thousands of square feet of ivy! It didn’t make you tired?”
    “I told you, I only get exhausted when I heal myself. Making other things live and grow is no problem.”
    “Oh,” I said, casting one last glance behind. Without the shelter of the bridge over us, the hissing echo of the Nectar River had become just a murmur on the evening breeze, which smelled like algae and piss in this neighborhood. I felt exposed.
    And that reminded me why I was running. Of the life—and death—I was leaving behind. I was still numb to it all, and I didn’t want that to change. If I thawed, I might fall apart again. Focus , I told myself. Get to Jacques. Fast.
    Without thinking about the consequences, I put my arm around Khaya’s shoulder as if to support myself, but then brought it down around her back, gripping her side and hoisting her up. She gave me a startled look and opened her mouth—maybe to ask what the hell I was doing—and then closed it. She’d realized that walking was easier this way.
    “It might help if you slouched more,” I said, trying not to