by Will Hill
“Without my family?” asked Julian.
Holmwood nodded. “Yes. Without them.”
“What kind of life would that be, Cal?”
“One that’s better than you can have locked inside this room,” said Holmwood. “One where you can go outside, see the sun, choose what you want to eat. Take it or leave it.”
“Take it or leave it?” asked Julian. His mind seemed to be slowing down, as though the enormity of what his friend was telling him was cutting power to his vital systems. The cell seemed to be becoming even grayer, clouding at the edges of his vision and shrinking in on him, reducing his perspective to a dark tunnel.
“I’m afraid so,” said Holmwood. He stood up from his chair, made his way across to the door, and banged on it three times. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. And like I said, I really am—”
“Just get out, Cal,” said Julian, and he lay back on his bed.
The door unlocked and swung open. Holmwood looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.
Julian stared up at the ceiling, his friend’s words pounding through his head.
Take it or leave it.
Take it.
Or leave it.
FORTY-SIX DAYS
TILL ZERO HOUR
