Hunted

by Abi Ketner

  Bruno and Grace come in and sit down on the floor. Cole fills them in on Alyssa and Amber. I cover my ears because I don’t want to listen. I’m still battling the reality of the truth about Cole and the cause of Alyssa’s death. Then I hear her voice in my head.

  “It’s okay, Lexi. I’m safe now. You can do this; use your love for me to get up and do what must be done. You have the strength of your father, Keegan, and myself. We’re with you. Someone needs you right now. Help her come to us.”

  I blink several times then rub the back of my neck. Grace’s voice echoes around me.

  “Poor Amber,” she says. “She’s clawing at herself and scratching her skin off. She won’t stop screaming. I can’t stomach it anymore. Wish there was something we could do for her.”

  Straightening up, I stand on wobbly legs and clear my throat.

  “There is,” I say. “She asked me to end it for her. She begged me, but I refused.”

  Cole’s pained eyes raise to meet mine. “Lexi. I’m not sure now’s the best time for you to make that kind of decision.”

  “She doesn’t deserve this,” I say. He flinches. “And if I was in her position, I’d hope you’d do the same for me.”

  “Lexi, why don’t you let me do it?” Bruno asks, hopping to his feet.

  “No.” I tighten my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay composed. “I’ll do it. She asked me, and now I am going to give her what she asked for.”

  “Wait, you’re going to kill her?” Grace asks.

  “No, Grace. It’s the virus that’s killing her, and I’m going to stop it.”

  “Lexi, it’s murder.”

  “It’s not, Grace. It’s assisted suicide. And, Grace, she wants this … not me. But what I do want for her is peace. She deserves that at least.” I can’t even believe the words that come out of my mouth. I feel like I’m constantly riding the space between being a savior and being a demon. And now I know the delicate balance my father walked. That Sutton still walks.

  Grace stands, takes my hand in hers, and leads me forward. “Come on, let’s help Amber.”

  She doesn’t let go of my hand as I drag my legs to the doorway. Cole and Bruno follow.

  When we arrive, Amber’s eyes catch mine, and she smiles gratefully. I run my hands through my hair, hesitating, wondering if I can go through with it.

  Cole removes the sheet on the bed and scoops Amber up into it. He carries her into the bathroom.

  Bruno grabs a chair and drags it into one of the shower stalls, carefully making sure it’s level before nodding and stepping back.

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

  “Thank you, Lexi,” Amber says through her quivering lips. “I knew you’d understand.”

  Cole places Amber gently down on the chair. “Goodbye, Amber,” he says.

  She smiles at him. “Take care of Lexi.”

  He nods. “You know I will.”

  “Amber, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I say once he moves.

  “I know you are. But don’t you dare feel guilty. This, this is my decision, not yours. And I apologize for how I’ve treated you.”

  “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

  “All right, good. Let’s do this. I’m ready to go home.”

  “Do you believe in heaven?”

  “Because of you, yes, I do.”

  “Well, then please tell God I’m sorry.” I don’t want to cry, so I clench my jaw. Shooting someone like this feels completely against my nature, even if it is merciful in the long run.

  Bruno, Grace, and Zeus say their goodbyes. Suddenly my heart’s in my throat, and I bite down on my lower lip as I approach her. She looks tiny compared to the chair she sits on, the stall swallowing her body whole in its white mildewed prison. Yet, Amber looks at peace. She takes a deep breath.

  “Are you scared?” I ask.

  “No, I’m ready to leave this hell.” Even as she says it, she scratches at her arms, picking open more wounds, and drawing more fresh blood. It trickles down and drips onto the floor.

  “I understand.” I breathe deep. “Close your eyes.”

  I look up at the cement ceiling, say a silent prayer, and reach for my gun. I focus on Amber and steady my hands, locking my feet in place. I ignore how her fingers shake as she awaits her execution.

  I aim right between her eyes and pull the trigger.

  It’s done. At some point, Cole pulls the gun out of my hand. Everything looks blurry. Hands, I don’t know whose, pull me away from the spatters of blood and brain matter that used to be Amber. The sound of voices is drowned out by ringing in my ears from the blast of the gun. I glance down at my shaking fingers and twist them together. But I can’t make them stop. I cover my ears, as if blocking out the noise.

  I killed her. God, forgive me.

  I close my eyes but still see the droplets of blood sprayed all over the wall tiles and the way her body bolted backward with the shot, and then slumped off the chair into a heap on the floor. My stomach lurches. The expression on her face is crystal clear in my mind—the sunken eyes, the hollowed cheeks, and the raspy whisper in which she pleaded with me to end her miserable existence. God, what have we become when we kill people to make their pain bearable? My breath catches in my throat.

  “You okay?” a voice asks.

  It’s not okay.

  “Not really.” That’s the thing about emotions. You can’t control them. The only thing you can do is hope you’ll find a way to somehow keep your head above water.

  Immediately, I want to be alone. No one tries to stop me as I shove through the door and skid into the dimly lit hallway. My bloodied boots stick to the floor as I bolt. My eyes flood with tears, and a moan escapes my lips. I hear myself, but it doesn’t sound like me. No words can describe how I feel or what is going through my mind. I’m passing several blackened doorways when it hits me.

  My old room.

  I screech to a stop. The door’s wide open, but it’s dimly lit. Inside, I can barely make out the wall I painted so many months ago. My bed’s still on the right side with rumpled covers. I go in, sit down, put my head in my hands, and let myself cry.

  The tears cascade down my face, and my stomach muscles clench from the force of my grief. I try to wipe the tears away, but to no avail. They just keep coming. I feel pressure on the bed and turn to find Zeus, who snuggles up against me. He pushes my arm so that I have to put it around his head.

  I’m relieved to see him, but I can’t find the words to tell him what I’ve done. I know Amber wasn’t the nicest person; in fact, I didn’t even like her. And I know she asked me to do it. But it’s still unnatural to kill someone in cold blood, no matter how much you dislike them and no matter how much they beg. I constantly find myself in the position of having to weigh the consequences of my actions. If I didn’t do it, she would’ve suffered and endured a very painful death. If I hadn’t killed so many guards, my friends and I would’ve died instead. If we don’t rescue Sutton, Wilson will kill him. If I don’t kill Wilson, this will never end.

  It’s just too much for my head. I swallow my tears for a moment and let my eyes drift to the painting on the wall.

  Cole’s eyes stare back at me through the red and black paint. I can’t even trust him, and yet I love him, maybe more than anything. And then, I see Lexington Bay, with my father and Alyssa, sitting together. Maybe Amber’s with them now, pain-free. Maybe, in another life, she wouldn’t be so hateful of others because she’d have a chance to start over.

  Last, I focus on the Hole getting blown to pieces in the painting. This is the one part of the painting I want to come true so bad that it hurts. Just thinking about how amazing it would be to live a life free of brands, free of hatred and corruption, pains me. I want it all and want it to happen without costing everything and everyone I love. I wipe my tears with tightened fists.

  I miss my dad. I miss Alyssa. I miss Keegan, standing here with me and telling me he loves me. I wish he’d walk in without kn
ocking like he used to. I hated it then, but I’d give anything, anything, to see him again. And Sutton, being beaten in front of my eyes. God, it’s too much. I groan from the depths of my soul, unable to control my emotions as they spill out. I struggle to breathe. And what of Cole? Will I ever be able to trust him again? I never dreamed he could keep a secret like that from me, that he would lie to me.

  My hands continue to tremble. Before I know it, I’m down on my knees, my hands against the wall, praying in broken whispers.

  “Please, give me the strength to fight evil with good. Give me the wisdom to know the difference. Help me to never lose myself in all this hatred, lies, chaos, and sickness … ” I stop as a tear trickles down my cheek, and my voice cracks. “Please protect Grace and the baby growing within her. And please, please, help us save Sutton before it’s too late. I can’t bear to lose him.”

  I sit back on my heels, allowing Zeus to scamper down beside me. I turn my head and kiss his waiting face. I sniffle and bury my face in his warm neck. He allows me to cry into his fur, sitting patiently as I grasp him like a scared child with a huge teddy bear. I pull away, catching my breath and letting him settle half on my lap. I can’t help but laugh through my tears. A gentle peace comes over me, and I straighten my back.

  “What would I do without you?” I ask. His ears perk up just as I hear steps behind me.

  “Is it all right if I come in?” Cole’s voice reverberates through my small room, and I flip my body around.

  “It depends on why you’re here.”

  “I know you need space,” he says with his hands out in front of him as if to say, Hold on a second. “But I had to make sure you’re all right.”

  I stand up and wipe my wet palms on my pants. He walks in, eyes immediately drawn to the wall.

  “You did what she needed from you,” he says, not stepping any closer. “And it was more than anyone’s ever done for her.”

  I want to throw myself into his arms and inhale his sweat-soaked shirt, but I stop myself. Part of me feels guilty when I notice he’s changed clothes. I’m guessing he helped clean up Amber’s body after I ran out. But I can’t quite forgive him for lying, no matter how much I want to. “It still hurts.”

  He’s quiet as he sits down on the bed and puts his hands on his knees. I listen to his breathing as he stares at the painting.

  “I say it’s time to retrieve those records and show the world who Wilson really is,” he says. “What he’s made us all do in order to survive.”

  “Do you think the world cares?”

  “Deep down, I do. And if we show them that their lives are in jeopardy, they’ll step up to the plate,” he says. I stare at him, squinting, and he levels his gaze at me. “I know I don’t deserve you, or your forgiveness. But … that doesn’t change why I came.”

  “Cole, I … ”

  “You don’t have to say a word. But I need to tell you that I love you and nothing’s going to change that. Not ever.”

  I turn my head and stare at the wall I painted. The faces, the memories, all flash through my mind. I flick my eyes back to Cole’s. He raises his eyebrows, his black eyes boring holes through my soul.

  “So … are you ready for this?” he asks. I clench my fists and nod my head.

  “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

  I try my best to pay attention as Bruno and Cole go back and forth over how they should get into the hospital. They stand, pointing at a homemade diagram sitting on a table in the training room. Since there are no chairs left, the rest of us sprawl on the floor, subjected to their constant discussion of tactics, as the lights flicker overhead, giving me a headache.

  “I need to use the restroom; I’ll be right back,” Grace says.

  Bruno nods without looking up. I don’t know how he hasn’t suspected her secret yet. This is the second time she’s left the room to pee, and we’ve only been sitting here for one hour.

  She gets up from her position along the wall and saunters to the doorway, glancing over her shoulder at me. When she returns a few minutes later, she slides down into place, resting her hands over her abdomen. Her face glows, and her mouth turns upward. The secret weighs on me like an anvil dragging me under the waves with her. Is it better this way? It’s not my place to make that decision. I pull my eyes away from her.

  Bill drinks from his small bottle. I don’t know how he can drink so much and still understand anything we’re talking about. But somehow, he’s found himself an endless supply of vodka, and he doesn’t think waiting until we’re free to celebrate is good enough. He belches loudly, but the guys don’t even stop to notice. He looks at me with his gap-toothed smile, and I roll my eyes.

  “Want some?”

  “No, thanks, you go right ahead and enjoy that,” I say.

  “Have to while I can.”

  Zeus moans as he lies on his belly, supporting his head between his two front paws, eyes sorrowful. I can understand that. I fidget with my fingers, wondering when Cole and Bruno will reach a decision.

  “How about the basement windows?” Bruno asks.

  “No way, too close to the training center,” Cole says.

  “Oh come on, man. If we get in there, we’re right at the main staircase which goes straight to the eighth floor.” Bruno leans over the papers and points to a location with his index finger. “It’s perfect.”

  “Yeah, but impossible.”

  “Actually, it isn’t,” Bill says from the shadows. “The guards rotate every four hours. Hit them on a shift change, and you got them.” The eyes in the room all move in his direction. Under the flickering light, Cole’s forehead wrinkles up as he lifts his right eyebrow. “The guards on the roof of the hospital take smoke breaks together. You’ll see the burning light of their cigarettes. This leaves their posts … well, let’s just say, ‘unguarded.’” Bill laughs as Bruno stands up straight. “What? I enjoy observing people, even a bunch of slime balls.”

  “Old man, your intelligence is kicking my ass right about now,” Bruno says. “How about helping us out here.”

  “Bruno, just because he drinks doesn’t make him unintelligent,” Grace says.

  “Who said anything about him drinking?” Bruno asks with his hands in the air.

  “Grace, it’s fine. It doesn’t bother me,” Bill says. “Because now my problem can be used for the good.”

  “And how is that exactly?” Cole asks, turning fully to face Bill.

  “Think about it. Who’s gonna pay any attention to a drunk? I’m not a threat.”

  “Huh, never thought about that,” Cole says. “I must admit, we’re very lucky to have you.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ve always wanted to be some kind of hero.” He stumbles to the table and pulls the drawings in front of himself. “Okay. So check this out: guards are positioned here and here.” He points them out. “At shift change, they rotate this way, and then some go for a joyride, if you catch my drift.” His voice drones on, and Bruno and Cole soak it all in.

  “Okay, so say everything goes as planned, and we get the records,” Cole says. “Then what? How’re we getting them out? And how many files are we taking?”

  “Let me worry about that,” Roméo says, entering the room. “But I’ll need time to go through them. If we don’t get the right ones, it won’t matter to the United Powers. Even though I’ve documented Amber’s course with the virus, they’ll want more. Without proof that there are and were others, they’ll step back. I must acquire the most accurate information possible, so the United Powers can see the full scope of what’s happening here.”

  “And you’re sure telling them what you know won’t be enough? I mean, we will back you up,” Grace says.

  “I wish it could be that simple. Only hard-core proof will open their eyes to the danger here. They like to stay neutral unless given a very solid reason to intervene. Besides, no one will believe the word of a Sinner whose father was killed by the current regime, two ex-guards with an axe to grind, a drun
k, and a woman who … I’m sorry. What do you do again?”

  “Okay, okay. We get it. No need to insult the people keeping you alive,” Bruno says. “Back to the files. How will we carry them out?”

  “How about a backpack?” I ask.

  “That should work just fine,” Roméo says.

  “I’ll carry it. The drunk guy, remember?” Bill says.

  “What about me?” Grace asks, her voice eager. “What can I do?”

  I flash her a pleading look. I worry she’s taking on too much, risking too much. But she shrugs me off. I want to make an excuse for her, but I don’t get the chance.

  “I could use your help going through the files,” Roméo says.

  “Oh, that’s perfect,” she says. “Just tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll do my best.”

  “I can give cover or lead,” I say. “I know my way around the hospital and Sutton’s office.”

  “All right; that’s all settled,” Bruno says. His hand slaps the table, and his voice turns monotone. “After we get these files, our next course of action will be to get them out of the Hole with Roméo and Bill.” He stares at Grace, lingering on her face for a while before turning to the rest of us. “Once we make it back here safely, we’ll work on the escape plan.” He exhales.

  “We got this,” Cole says.

  I’m more than awake now. I scoot forward, pushing myself up to stand, and look over the drawings on the table. I examine the rough diagrams they made of the hospital and training center. I see the entrance to the basement they’re talking about, and it gives me chills. It’s the exact area where some of the guards cornered me months ago and Cole and Zeus came and rescued me before they could finish what they’d started. Thank God.

  “This plan, it’s going to work,” I say, not making eye contact with Cole. “No matter what happens, our main objective is the get the records out of the Hole.” I glance quickly at Cole, noticing his clenched fists. “Even if it means lives lost.” He opens his mouth and then closes it.

  “So I guess it’s ’til death do we all part,” Bruno says with a laugh. Grace shoots him a look. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her body closer to his.