Fragments

12

The second safe house is even more remote than the cabin we left behind. Kellan leads me through a maze of dense forest and winding paths until we finally arrive at an old, abandoned farmhouse. It's larger than the cabin, with a weathered exterior that seems to have withstood the ravages of time and neglect. The surrounding area is eerily quiet, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Kellan moves cautiously, his eyes scanning the area as we approach the farmhouse. The darkness is oppressive, wrapping around us like a thick fog, and I find myself gripping his hand tighter than necessary. He doesn't seem to mind, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as we reach the front porch.

"Stay close," he whispers, his voice barely audible in the stillness. "We don't know who else might be here."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. The Recall had given us these coordinates, but the thought of walking into another unknown sends a chill down my spine. Kellan pushes the door open, the hinges creaking loudly in the silence. Inside, the air is stale, filled with the scent of dust and decay. The interior is dark, but Kellan flicks on a flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness to reveal a cluttered room filled with old furniture and scattered belongings.

"Is anyone here?" Kellan calls out, his voice firm and controlled. For a moment, there is nothing but silence, the house standing still as if holding its breath. Then, faintly, the sound of footsteps echoes from the back of the house.

I tense, my eyes darting toward the source of the noise. Kellan shifts in front of me, his body a shield as the footsteps grow closer. My pulse quickens, fear and anticipation clashing within me.

A figure emerges from the shadows, a man around Kellan's age with round features and a guarded expression. His eyes flicker over Kellan, then settle on me, narrowing slightly. He steps forward, his movements deliberate, every step a calculated decision.

"Kellan," the man says, his voice flat and emotionless. "You made it."

"We did," Kellan replies, his tone cautious. "Is this place secure?"

The man nods, though his eyes never leave mine. "Yes. It's been checked and cleared. You weren't followed?"

"No," Kellan answers firmly. "We made sure of it."

There's a tense silence as the man continues to study me, his gaze unsettling. I shift uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. Kellan senses my discomfort and steps closer, his presence a silent reassurance.

"She's one of us," Kellan says, his voice edged with warning. "Don't question it."

The man raises an eyebrow but says nothing, finally turning his gaze away from me. He gestures toward a narrow hallway. "The others are in the back room. They've been waiting."

Kellan nods, glancing at me. "Stay close. Some of the new members won't know you yet. And they don't like strangers," he murmurs, leading the way down the hallway. I follow, my heart hammering against my ribs.

We reach a door at the end of the hall, the wood old and splintered. Kellan opens it, revealing a dimly lit room with a group of people huddled around a table. Their faces are a mix of hope and wariness, eyes turning toward us as we enter. I feel their gazes settle on me, curiosity and suspicion evident in their expressions.

Kellan clears his throat, his grip on my hand tightening briefly introduces me to the group, none of which look familiar. "This is Lena," he says, his voice strong and commanding. "She's with us. Some of you already know that, though."

There's a murmur among the group, a ripple of recognition that passes through them. A woman with short, cropped hair steps forward, her eyes searching mine. "Lena," she repeats, her voice soft but laden with meaning as she hugs me tightly. "We never thought we'd see you again."