“I didn’t think anyone else was here,” she pondered aloud, her voice lilting with the distinctive, spacey tremor that the majority of Paragon’s citizens spoke with, due to the effects of the tranquilizers in the food.
Thinking fast, Deion called out, “Sorry to startle you. We’re under orders to make an emergency delivery to Unit 12.”
“Broken refrigerator,” Alex embellished.
“Oh,” the woman acquiesced. “Okay.” She resumed wiping at the wrench and disappeared between the cars from which she’d come.
Sighing heavily in unison, Deion and Alex quickly made their way to the van, unplugging the charger and hopping into the front seats.
Alex prodded the autopilot system and the vehicle stirred to life. Deion gripped the dash as the van eased out of its spot and headed toward the loading bay, the large doors automatically rising overhead as they approached. They exited onto the street, and Deion took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
Alex, in the meantime, had ducked under the dashboard and loosened a panel below the steering wheel. He was digging around in the mess of wires, groping for Deion didn’t know what. After a few moments, he withdrew his hand and held up a tiny black box with electrical contacts on each side, the whole thing not larger than a fingernail. “Got it!” Alex beamed.
“Got what?”
“The tracking device.”
“How did you even know that was there?” Deion asked incredulously.
Alex shrugged. “They’re in every car back home – government surveillance. You Westerners take everything for granted.” Alex had never spoken much about his life amongst the Eastern Allies, even before the outbreak. Now Deion finally understood why – if he was accustomed to being scrutinized like this, he must have been afraid to say too much and potentially jeopardize his exchange status.
Deion motioned towards the autopilot navigation. “It’s bringing us to the gate?”
“Yeah. I just need to figure out how to override it and take manual control before we get there…” Alex was back under the dash again.
Deion wiped the cold sweat from his brow, peering out the window at the darkened streets as the van rolled noiselessly through the compound. If they could survive this next part, they might just make it.
He glanced around the vehicle cabin, noting the few bottles of water stocked in the center console. Besides the handful of granola bars stashed in their pockets, they couldn’t really bring any supplies without raising suspicions, so he was thankful that whoever was on vehicle maintenance had finished their shift and prepared the van for the next day’s delivery workers before they’d commandeered it. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
As the gates came into view, Alex sat up and wrapped his hands gingerly around the steering wheel. “Here we go,” he said under his breath. The van lurched abruptly as it switched to manual control and Alex positioned his foot on the accelerator.
Deion seized the armrests in alarm. “It’s been how long exactly since you’ve done this?”
“Just coming up on ten years,” Alex replied, easing onto the brake to mimic the smooth style of the automated driving. “Don’t worry, it’s like riding a bike.”
Deion wouldn’t know – he’d never learned to ride a bike.
Alex eased the van up to the gate and brought the vehicle to a smooth stop. A spotlight swung onto them from overhead and a guard poked his head out of the gatehouse. “We weren’t expecting any transports tonight,” he called out.
Alex rolled down the window. “That’s because there aren’t any – the auto-nav on this thing is going haywire! You have any idea how to reroute? We’re supposed to be dropping this stuff off across town.”
The guard looked over his shoulder and called to someone else within the gatehouse, and a moment later the door swung open and he and a comrade stepped out. “My buddy here might be able to help. You wanna open up so we can access the panels? They should be under the floor in back.” He motioned at the rear of the van.
“Awesome, thanks,” Alex replied. Deion and Alex both exited their seats and met the gatemen at the back of the vehicle. Deion unlocked the doors and held one open. “After you,” he smiled.
The guards went to climb in, but Alex stopped them midstride. “We’re carrying oxygen tanks for the hospital. You mind leaving your weapons and comms out here? Just in case.”
The first guard hesitated.
Alex shrugged apologetically. “One stray round, little too much static electricity, we all go kaboom.”
“Guess you’re right.” The guard reluctantly handed Alex his gun and removed the insert from his ear, and motioned to his partner to do the same before they resumed stepping into the van.
The second guard went immediately for the door in the floorboards that housed the nav panels, while the first glanced around the cargo hold.
Simultaneously, they started, “Argh, need a screwdriver to open this –”
“Wait, where are the tanks –”
But neither got to finish their thought before Deion slammed the door shut and Alex padlocked it closed.
“Hey!” the guards called from inside, banging on the metal doors, but it was no use – they were trapped.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this…” Deion muttered to Alex.
Already running for the gatehouse, Alex called back, “Too late to back out now!”
Deion jumped back in the passenger seat as the gates swung open. He peered through the small viewing window into the hold in the back, where the two guards were still pounding furiously on the doors. Knots in his stomach, he swiveled forward just as Alex was climbing into the driver’s seat.
Together, they looked out into the blackness beyond Paragon’s walls.
Alex slammed on the accelerator and the van peeled out onto the deserted road. Deion was thrown back into his seat, at the same time hearing two thuds as the poor guards toppled over each other in the back with the sudden change in momentum.
As Paragon’s lights faded in the distance, Alex hooted and pumped his fist. “Made it!”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Deion questioned, his limbs tingling with nerves. He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “We’re not going to be able to keep them in there forever.”
“Eh, it should hold long enough for us to ditch the van and disappear into the woods,” Alex reasoned.
Glancing at the dark trees whizzing past his window, Deion fingered the gun on his lap and wondered if “disappear” was the operative word in that sentence… Lizzie had warned them that more of those creatures, the Stuck, were out there. And it would take a few days at best to locate her rebel friends; he only hoped those monsters didn’t find them first.
An hour or so later, Alex pulled over on a nondescript stretch of now ash-covered road that was just as lonely and tree-lined as the rest of it had been. As the van slowed, Deion ignored the banging and screaming that’d resumed in the back.
“Guess this is as good a place to stop as any,” Alex said.
Deion took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, eyeing the pitch black forest outside. If they stayed with the van, he reminded himself, even without the tracking device, Paragon would find them soon enough – there weren’t that many roads leading away from the compound, and the underbrush was too thick to drive through. At least on foot, they had a chance, if a slim one.
They divvied up the water bottles and each slung a rifle over their shoulders before exiting the cabin. Neither of them actually knew how to use the guns, Deion realized, but it made him feel better nonetheless.
Standing outside the vehicle, Alex withdrew from his pocket a handheld GPS he’d swiped off set and pulled up the coordinates Lizzie had given him. He pointed straight through the trees to their left. “That’s the ticket.”
“Okay, man. I’m right behind you.”
Alex marched off towards the woods looking much braver than Deion felt. He took a deep breath, the soldiers’ muffled holler
ing reverberating from inside the vehicle.
“Sorry guys,” Deion muttered, mostly to himself. “Sure reinforcements will be here soon enough.” His heart quickening, he realized Paragon’s troops would be quickly on their way, if they weren’t already.
He hesitated just a moment longer, the van rattling in protest behind him.
Maybe with all that racket, he rationalized, the creatures would come here instead of after him and Alex. Maybe.
And with that semi-comforting thought in his head, Deion followed his friend into the woods.
38. REMORSE
It hadn’t even been 24 hours yet, Lizzie reminded herself for the hundredth time that day. They were fine. They had to be fine.
She checked the satellite footage folder on the computer drive again, even though she knew it was too soon. It would be days before yesterday or today’s film was beamed down and processed. She had to be patient.
At least her assignment to review the recordings gave her good cover to keep on top of their progress. If any sign of Alex or Deion showed up on the footage, she would be the first to see it. And she’d make sure that no one else ever would.
There was a knock at the door, and she quickly swiped to a different screen, just to be safe.
“Come in!” Lizzie called out.
The door creaked open, letting a sliver of the bright hallway light into the darkened screening room. She was surprised when the Draftsman poked his bearded face around the doorjamb.
“Have you got a few minutes?” he asked gently.
“Sure,” Lizzie smiled, guarded but more eager to see him than she probably should be. Even though she’d finally seen the Engineers for who they really are, something about the Draftsman in particular still put her at ease.
He ambled his large, heavy frame into the small workspace and rolled up a chair beside Lizzie’s computer station. Settling into it, he dropped his hands onto his lap in a casual manner and looked at her earnestly. “So, how have you been? Adjusting to being back?”
Lizzie paused to think for a moment before replying. That certainly wasn’t what she was expecting to be asked, and she didn’t know how much she should reveal. She shouldn’t trust him at all, she knew, and yet… for some reason she was finding it hard to lie.
“It’s been… difficult,” she admitted. She’d settled on telling him whatever portion of the truth felt safe.
He nodded sympathetically and waited for her to elaborate.
“It’s just weird to be here, knowing they’re all,” she hesitated, not wanting to even say it aloud, “…gone.”
“I understand. I’m sure you miss them.”
“I do,” Lizzie agreed quietly, her voice cracking ever so slightly as she looked down into her hands.
The Draftsman reached out and patted her shoulder, a grandfatherly gesture that Lizzie found herself comforted by, despite her reservations.
“It’s okay to grieve,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot. It’s not how any of us wanted things to go.”
Lizzie looked up, eyeing him cautiously. It certainly wasn’t how she wanted things to go. But the Engineers? She hadn’t been able to find any proof, but she didn’t quite believe that the explosion had been a mistake. And she still suspected that she might somehow be culpable.
But she knew he wasn’t safe to ask.
She shrugged, looking down again and focusing on a spot on the floor – it was easier than looking him in the eye, easier than trying to gauge his sincerity and how betrayed she should feel. “I’ve just been trying to focus on my work,” she replied, burying her emotions.
“But it’s hard,” he offered carefully, narrowing his eyes, “when you feel like it’s all your fault.”
She looked up at him, searching. How could he know?
He sighed. “I understand, because I’ve been there.” He raised his open palms and let them drop into his lap. “After the outbreak,” he shook his head, “after we released the virus,” he corrected himself, “that was all I could think. They’re all dead because of me. It was torture.”
She could see the pain behind his eyes, and she recognized it. It was the same pain she’d been carrying all these weeks.
“But it’s not your fault, Lizzie,” he reassured her, squeezing her shoulder with his large, warm hand. “No more than it was mine. In both cases, things were going to play out the same way no matter what we did, personally. You did all you could. You would not have chosen this, no more than I would have.”
His words were starting to feel like an apology, but for what exactly, Lizzie wasn’t sure. The explosion? The outbreak? Looking the other way while her body was beaten and raped, her mind stitched and manipulated, her spirit broken over and over and over again?
Fury bloomed in her chest, but when she looked into his eyes once more, all she found there was remorse.
It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. But she felt the rage fizzling out, anyway, supplanted by her own deep and searing sense of shame, of accountability, of wishing she could have done anything better to prevent it all. And somehow, in that moment, she knew he felt the same.
“I’m sorry you got wrapped up in all this,” he finally breathed, motioning at the walls and Paragon and everything. “I’m sorry you’ve been so hurt. But just know it’s not your fault.”
At last Lizzie could contain it no longer, and a rush of tears spilled out onto her cheeks. “How do I live with this?” she whispered.
He patted her shoulder again, seeming satisfied that he’d gotten through to her, that she was letting herself feel.
“You just do,” he said, standing and pushing the chair back. “You just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and someday, it won’t hurt quite so much to breathe.”
Lizzie sobbed aloud then, realizing just how much it’d really been taking out of her just to function. She must have been in shock all this time, she finally understood. She must have been pushing her emotions aside, not really able to process all that had happened.
Her chest clenched with the crushing realization of all she had lost. It really did hurt just to breathe.
The Draftsman paused at the door, looking back at her with heavy eyes and a knowing expression.
Before he departed, he left her with one last cryptic thought.
“It will all be okay in the end, I promise… even if it’s the last thing I do.”
39. IMPASSE
The tent unzipped and Jo popped her scruffy dirty-blonde head in through the hole, her warm brown eyes peering eagerly down at Isaac. “Whatcha doing?”
Isaac looked up from his work, awash in relief at the sight of his sister’s fervent expression. It’d taken two weeks, but she was finally starting to act like herself again. He released a silent thanks into the world for children being so incredibly resilient on so many levels.
“Just fixing this hole.” He held up the tear in his pants in one hand and a needle in the other.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh. Why don’t you ask M–” but then she caught herself, and the light all but went out.
Why don’t you ask Mom, is what she was going to say, he realized with a pang.
Isaac put his project aside and held his arms out to Josephine. “Come here.”
Jo unzipped the tent the rest of the way and folded herself into his arms without ever looking up from the floor. He cradled her small body in his lap and held her tight, rocking ever so gently and tucking her cheek against his chest.
He felt complete and terrified all at once. The love he had for Josephine was unlike anything he’d ever felt. But he alone was responsible for her now. Was he really ready for that?
“I miss Martha, too,” he whispered into her hair, resting his chin atop her head. “And Al. And everyone.”
Jo didn’t say anything, but he could feel her nodding. He knew how strong she was trying to be, and he cursed that someone so young should have to.
He touched her face, gently turning her cheek so he could look into her eyes. �
�Jo,” he said, and she finally looked up at him. “You know I will always be here for you.”
She just nodded again and resumed burying her face in his chest. Isaac’s heart swelled. And then it cracked.
They still hadn’t really told her, not everything. Not about the outbreak being intentional, not about the vaccine, not about her being naturally immune. He was still trying to protect her, from whatever he could. And he was determined to do that however he needed to. Even, he realized, if it meant taking her away from this place.
Now that Alicia and Carlos and everyone knew about Jo’s immunity, it was only a matter of time before they started investigating how they might be able to use her to make some kind of cure – maybe that antiserum thing Alicia had been talking about, what felt like a million years ago now.
Isaac knew it needed to be done. But no one would touch Jo without going through him first.
He looked down at her, noting how clear and smooth the skin on her arms looked. Any lingering signs of the radiation she’d been exposed to had cleared, he realized, again flooding with gratitude. This time, he sent his thanks to his brother; Josephine most certainly would not have survived the fallout – or the Stuck – without Joe.
But thinking of his brother still sent paroxysms of guilt through him.
All these years he’d been alone, transformed into something he didn’t understand, fighting his baser instincts to stay true to himself and find his way back to his loved ones. And Isaac had just moved on, never questioning that Joe was gone, never even making an attempt to save him.
He hated himself for it.
Josephine stirred, interrupting Isaac’s self-loathing. Somehow she’d bounced back already – kids. “I’m going to see what Alessa’s doing,” she piped up.
“Good idea,” Isaac replied. “Mind if I come?”
He wanted to check on Alessa, too.
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