20
Jericho looked down at the boy who had stayed close to Lucy on their trek to the tunnels. He had straight, dark brown hair that fell into his eyes, over his ears, and brushed the top of his shoulders. In the light from the glow stick, he studied eyes a mixture of green and gold that held concern and fear. The facility, despite the treatment of the children, had provided food and clothing. None of the refugees were as thin as Adam. The one in front of him had introduced himself to Leo as Braxton and, compared to Jericho, was a foot shorter but almost as wide.
“Sick, how?” Jericho asked.
“She has a wound on her back—”
“How was she injured?” Remembering her ease with slipping into his mind, her ability must be quite extraordinary if she could do so while sick.
Braxton swallowed, not w
