Fugitives (Escape from Furnace, #4)

by Alexander Gordon Smith

The sight of them on the lines made me remember Zee. I scrambled across the concrete on my knees, peering over the edge of the platform to see a motionless shape below. The lower part of his face was a mask of blood, but I could tell by the pale blue eyes it was Zee. They were open, and they weren’t blinking. He must have hit the electrified rail. I knew it. For a second I didn’t feel anything, then a blinding flash of white light popped in the center of my head, expanding hot and fast like a supernova. Not him, I screamed inside. Not him, not Zee. NOT ZEE! With each plea the flare of the supernova darkened, the nectar numbing the emotions the way it was supposed to, killing the sadness the same way it killed the physical pain. I let my guard drop, willing the poison in, urging it on so I wouldn’t have to deal with the truth of what lay before me, the body broken and slumped on the tracks. The body that was moving. “Gonna kneel there all day,” came a whisper of a voice, strained as though he had been badly winded, “or do you think maybe you could give me a hand?” The words flushed the nectar from my head, leaving me with nothing but a blinding pulse of agony, so deep that it felt as if it had always been there. But, more than that, I felt joy. The sensation was so strong that pearls of tears clustered in my eyes. I looked at Zee openmouthed and wide-eyed, and my expression must have been a sight because he laughed. “Jesus, Alex, close your mouth before you drool on me,” he...

my eyes had teared up by the time i reached the "NOT ZEE!" and i was full crying once it reached the sentence before "The body that was moving." then my tears were of joy but basically this affected me very strongly