Page 13 of Don’t Let Me Go

I run.

I run faster than I’ve ever run before as a storm of rocks falls upon the city. Horses shriek, overturning their carts in

the streets, and terrified children huddle in doorways screaming for their parents. A voice shouts for everyone to take cover

while another orders everyone to abandon the city.

Everything is pandemonium.

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 go now , 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.

“I was coming to find you!” I answer. “Why aren’t you with your family?”

“Because I was coming to find you !”

Despite the panic in my bones and the devastation whirling around us, I find myself weeping with joy as he once again pulls

me into his arms.

In a city of chaos, with death raining from the sky, Marcus came for me.

At the end of the world, he chose me.

“We have to get out of the city!” he hollers, breaking our embrace. “Everyone is evacuating!”

He takes my hand. Then together we leave the narrow alley and clamber onto the wide avenue that cuts through the eastern half

of the city. Much to our dismay, we find it almost completely buried in debris. Rocks are raining down even faster than before,

as if Vesuvius won’t be content until it’s vomited every stone out of the belly of the earth and smothered every inch of our

city. We try wading our way through the sea of stones, but it’s up to our shins. If the rocks were heavier, we could walk

on top of them, but with every step, we sink into their crippling embrace.

Running is no longer possible. We are half blind from the ash and tripping over our own bruised feet. I try not to panic, but a voice in the back of my head is growing louder with every faltering footstep.

We’re running out of time.

“I need to rest,” Marcus says through choking coughs as he steadies himself against the wall of a house. “I have to catch

my breath.”

I would give him the air from my lungs if I could, but at this moment I can barely breathe myself. With every greedy gasp

for air I take, my throat burns with pain.

We’re running out of time.

We need to find shelter. The city’s battered buildings might be a death trap, but out here, exposed to the elements, we won’t

survive much longer.

I cast a hopeful glance up the street and catch sight of the Temple of the Sibylline Oracle. It’s one of the few great sacrileges

for a man to enter the inner sanctum uninvited. And the high priestess is a woman as feared as she is respected. But I have

greater fears at this moment, and the temple door is open.

“Come on!” I shout as I put my arm around Marcus’s waist, then pull him upright.

Wading through the rubble and fighting against the wind, we force our tired feet onward until we’re climbing the temple steps

and pushing ourselves inside. Then, with the last of our strength, we shut the heavy wooden door against the warring elements

and collapse onto the cold marble floor.

The temple is still and quiet. And the air is cleaner. But even in this sacred place, the falling stones are forcing their

terrible pollution through cracks in the ceiling.

“We shouldn’t have stopped,” Marcus laments. In the darkness, with only a torch to light his ash-stained face, he looks like

some ancient terror spawned from a nightmare. “We need to keep going.”

“We wouldn’t have made it another ten steps,” I say, gasping to catch my breath. “Besides, we don’t know if we’d be any safer outside the city.”

“We’d be farther away from the mountain.”

“There are other mountains. Maybe they’re all exploding. Maybe this is the end.”

Marcus is silent. He turns his face from me, but when next he speaks, I can hear the panic in his voice.

“Is this the end?”

I have no answer. It seems impossible, and yet if the gods wanted to bring an end to the age of man, the horrors I’ve seen

today would be more than sufficient.

We’re running out of time.

“What was that?” Marcus asks, jolting up straight as his eyes dart toward the entryway that leads off into the temple’s inner

sanctum. “Did you hear that?”

Lost in thought, I hadn’t heard a thing, but I cock my head and listen. Aside from the storm outside, I hear nothing. I’m

about to tell Marcus this when a faint groaning from deep within the temple echoes throughout the darkness.

“Do you think someone else is here?” Marcus asks.

Having found the temple’s outer door open and all its lamps overturned or extinguished, I’d assumed the place was abandoned.

But perhaps others have sought refuge here. Others who might be able to help us or whom we might be able to help.