Phantom Universe

by Laura Kreitzer

CHAPTER 24: RIOT

  16 years old

  The air is thick with a mix between apprehension and anticipation. Gage explains to Summer that he must be up front since he’s the commanding officer; it’ll just look weird and suspicious if he stands next to her while other Leaguers walk ahead of him. Gage gently strokes her cheek with the tip of his finger, caressing down to her lips and hesitating at the corner. His eyes are intense as he looks between her gazing blue eyes and her red, perfectly pouty lips. He gives a tiny nod and backs away, moving toward the door. The rest of the soldiers close in around her, which instantly makes her breath pick up.

  Cameron smiles encouragingly at her, the dark-haired girl, who she finally found out is named Emma, takes up flank on her other side. Though Summer does feel more comfortable with females, even they make her nervous. Gage opens the door with a slide of his hand and exits, followed by Hunter, his russet hair shining under the hospital’s bright lights.

  “Here we go,” says Cameron under her breath and steps forward.

  Summer keeps pace with her and, once on the other side of the door, Emma makes sure to fill any space between Summer and the hospital’s busy staff and visitors to her left. Cameron’s still a constant guard to her left. Ethan and Zoe follow behind so quietly Summer constantly looks back to make sure they’re still there. She sees many curious glances focus on the now closed hospital door they just came from, the people in the hospital don’t even glance into the blur of uniforms that stride past.

  She can’t help but take heaving breaths as Gage quietly speaks encouraging words to her. “You’re okay, Flower. No one even notices you’re with us.”

  “Deep, steadying breaths,” coaxes Cameron next to her. “You’ll blow our cover if I have to stop to give you oxygen. We’ll make it through this.”

  They enter into a small room like the one she was in when she was first brought here. Inside she feels claustrophobic and isn’t sure why they are in there in the first place. When the door slides shut and her stomach flies up into her throat, she reaches for Gage’s palm and quickly writes, “What is this room?”

  He roars with laughter and glances back at her. “It’s an elevator. Did they not have these two hundred years ago?” Wrinkles march up his forehead in question.

  “Of course they did,” says Zoe behind her.

  The doors slide open to reveal the reception area of the hospital. Then it all makes sense. Gage chuckles at her expression—he can see the understanding in her eyes. They exit the elevator in somewhat of an orderly human shield around Summer. She’s able to see around them enough to glimpse at the chaos that awaits just outside the hospital’s doors. People crowd the front doors holding signs with scrolling words like, “It’s the Exodus all over again!” and “Protect our children, kill the savages!” and “Outlanders are demons!” She almost stops mid-stride, but Cameron pushes her forward, a serious expression straightening the lines of her face.

  “Keep it tight,” orders Gage.

  They all move closer to Summer, and she beings to feel like she’ll suffocate. Doors slide open and guards salute Gage as they pass. The masses outside are screaming and yelling obscenities, the word splash is . . . well, splashed all over the scrolling signs. Her heart triples its beats as they enter into the discord.

  “It’s her!” someone shouts and voices rise in a massive tidal wave of heated fury. Fingers begin to point in her direction, and the media swarms them.

  “It’s the Outlander!” a female spits out.

  The media is quickly overtaken by the fanatical religious groups with their “God kills Outlanders” signs, and their eyes a proverbial piercing pitchfork in her forehead. It’s a riot gone wild.

  Emma is pushed violently into Summer who can’t take it anymore. Her heart is about to explode and sweat beads on her forehead. She wraps her arms around her head and ducks down, hiding from the massive amount of people who want to hurt her.

  He said “kill.”

  She panics, trembling, and falls to the ground, trying her best to fold into herself and disappear into the ether. Emma is on the ground with her, doing her best to use her body as a shield. Cameron’s shouting at someone over her head, but at this point words are nothing but blurs of noise. All she can hear is her pounding heart, the world ripping and tearing her away from reality. Emma’s weight is snatched away from her and suddenly something hard slams into her back. Summer doesn’t cry out—she knows it won’t do any good. The Captain once told her she was the best-trained slave he had ever owned just because of her incredible silence. She refuses to succumb to the protestors efforts of trying to make her cry out.

  Something pulls her hair, and it feels as if her locks will rip from her skull, along with her skin. Gage shouts close by, his voice an angry, fiery storm. Something else slams into her back, and she feels the impact all the way in the depths of her nerves, spreading along her body. The force and pain causes her to collapse on the ground. Someone kicks her in the arm, missing her ribs. In the distance she can hear shouts, whistles going off, horns blowing, alarms blaring, but that doesn’t stop the next blow to her hip. She grits her teeth and attempts to pull herself into the fetal position again.

  I guess he did lie; I am going to die out here today. As soon as she thinks it, Gage is suddenly hovering over her, his voice a hazy static noise in her ear. She’s pretty sure something hit her head hard enough to make her dizzy. Her body leaves the ground as his arms grip her. She recognizes Gage’s scent as her head bounces against his chest. She can hear the rumble of his voice against her ear, but it’s all incoherent.

  Then all noise fades into a silent crescendo of colors and bright lights. A light passes over her blue eyes. Someone’s face comes into view, and their mouth moves, words form, and Summer can hear none of it. Her mind is shutting down, one area at a time, and she can’t even comprehend words, sounds, or recognize faces. Her muscles jerk and tighten until they strain uncomfortably. Even the pain that should accompany this, her mind finds a way to block it out. A light passes over her eyes again, and she closes them, hoping it’ll just go away. Maybe it’ll all just go away. . . .

  The distinction between the past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

  Albert Einstein