“We’ve got some supplies for your journey. Food, mostly. The others have been contacted and will be waiting for you. But there’s nothing except more trouble waiting.”
“I’ve experienced the Cleaners and—”
“We have more enemies than the Cleaners. The life of a Remnant is not a simple one.”
“What kind of enemies?” I ask.
Cecily’s eye is pea-sized and bleak. There is no emotion, as if it’s only a lifeless dark marble. Empty and desolate, but not without power. For in that bleak, dark eye, I see my own fear.
“The kind that will kill you without question,” she says.
