Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
For whatever reason, he’s taken pity on me. And while I don’t truly believe we’ll actually make it, I’m desperate enough to try.
If I was a better person, I’d make him leave me behind. If I was a better person, I wouldn’t let him risk his life for me.
But I’m not.
I’m just as rotten as the taste in my mouth, willing to do anything to be free.
Grabbing me by the elbow, Father McCall asks, “Ready?”
I dip my chin, thankful the movement doesn’t make the world spin.
Father McCall tugs me along with him, but unlike Jeffrey and Sister Agatha, his touch remains considerate and gentle. He’s careful not to pull on me too hard.
He even asks, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
The small act of kindness causes my throat to tighten. I give him a small shake of my head, afraid speaking will cause me to tear up.
As he pulls open the door and peeks his gray head out, I’m moved to pray without being forced to for the first time in years.
God, please protect this man, I silently send up to the heavens. Don’t let him die because of me…
“It’s clear,” he says and tugs me out into a small hall.
His pace is fast, but he seems to be constantly aware of my own steps.
Again, we’re in more unfamiliar territory. But from the smell alone, the acidic smell of sweat and funk, I get the sense we’re where only men dwell. I even hear some muffled masculine voices behind one of the doors.
If I absolutely had to guess, I’d say we’re where some of the other young men of the Order, like Jeffrey, stay and train. If Jeffrey wasn’t shackled to me, this area of the cathedral is most likely where he’d live.
The thought of Jeffrey stumbling upon us sends shivers down my spine and my steps quicken. If he does come across us, there’s no way Father McCall can protect me from him.
Given his age, the only thing Father McCall could do is slow Jeffrey down to buy me some time.
It only takes about a dozen or so steps to reach the end of the hall and push open another door. This time Father McCall doesn’t bother to peek his head out, he just rushes us through it.
This hallway is twice as wide as the last the hallway, better lit, and connected to other hallways. The walls have been recently painted white and there’s carpet covering the floor. Clean carpet.
From the walls alone, I get the impression this is an addition. Not the cathedral itself, but connected.
I remember my father talking about a special compound built behind the church. A special compound that required most of the church’s funding for constant updates and renovations.
This must be it.
Why the Order needs such a large extension is anyone’s guess.
But I personally doubt it’s to help peacefully spread God’s message.
Sensing freedom lies at the end of this last hall, I nearly outpace Father McCall with my urgency.
Only a gentle tug from him makes me aware of what I’m doing. Forcing myself to slow down, I take a deep breath and swear I can taste a hint of fresh air.
Father McCall leads us past the first intersection, glancing nervously left to right, without slowing or stopping.
Voices reach us from down one of the hallways, but they’re not paying attention to us, caught up in their own conversation.
Everything is going smoothly, almost too smoothly, until we reach the next intersection. Again, Father McCall glances left to right, but then he does a double-take at the left and grumbles under his breath.
“Father McCall!” Sister Agatha calls out a second later. “I need to speak--”
Her words cut off in a gasp as her eyes fall upon me.
Dropping his bearded chin in determination, Father McCall urges me quickly past the intersection, but I catch a glimpse of Sister Agatha’s face paling in surprise.
“Father McCall!” she calls out louder. “Stop! Please stop!”
Ignoring her, Father McCall tugs me into a run.
But his short, elderly legs can only move so fast.
Behind us, Sister Agatha’s thick heels pound against the carpet. She’s probably just as old as Father McCall, if not older, but she’s mean and powered by pure spite.
Fearing she’ll catch up to us, I’m tempted to outrun Father McCall and leave him behind.
It would be too easy to rip my hand out of his grasp and use him to buy me some more time.
After all, one does not need to outrun the dragon. They only need to outrun the person behind them. At least, that’s what my father told me on once when reading me a bedtime story.
But I can’t bring myself to abandon Father McCall.
Even if it might cost me my freedom.
We make it to the end of the hall, but as soon as Father McCall pushes the bar to open the door, Sister Agatha grabs me by the back of my hood.