by Marina Epley
I need to get some answers from Cynthia. I have to learn why she chose such a path, so that I might choose a different one.
***
Kitty enters the office and informs me that Chase has arrived. We head toward the cell where Cynthia is being kept. Chase, Marcus, Jessie and Victor wait for us in the corridor. Everybody looks gloomy. Chase has bandages around his wounded leg and is supporting himself with a crutch.
“Let’s go have a talk with Cynthia,” he suggests.
“I’d better wait for you guys here,” Marcus says. “I can’t face her. I’d likely kill her on sight.” His voice breaks as he turns away, so we wouldn’t see him cry. “She killed my brother,” he adds.
We enter the cell, leaving Marcus in the corridor. Cynthia is sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. She’s handcuffed and chained down, and a blocking collar is placed around her neck. Her nose is obviously broken and her face swollen and bruised after our encounter. Fortunately, I only have a black eye after Cynthia kneed me in the face.
“Listen up, breaker,” Chase begins. “I guess you fully realize where you are and what we can do. So make it easy on yourself and answer our questions.”
Cynthia looks away, her expression blank. Chase asks whether there’s another group of terrorists in the city, but she ignores the question. He demands her to tell us about Guardian’s plans, but receives no response.
That’s how I behaved during my interrogation with Wheeler, I suddenly think. This association makes me very uncomfortable.
“C’mon, breaker,” Chase says. “Answer the questions. You know we have other methods of extracting information from you. Let’s not go there.”
“Not interested,” Cynthia answers.
“Let’s just kill her,” Jessie offers.
“We should torture her first,” Kitty suggests.
Cynthia smiles. “Is that supposed to scare me? I’m getting bored.”
“No,” Chase says. “We’re not trying to frighten you. There’s no need for this because as I said, Elimination has other means to get what we need. Have you met Victor?”
Victor grins, waving to Cynthia.
“The infamous junkie and memory reader,” she says.
“I’m aware that memory scanning can be somewhat unpleasant,” Chase assures her. “So just cooperate and maybe you won’t have to go through that particular procedure.”
“Officer, you may not be aware of the fact you’re speaking to a level 4 breaker,” Cynthia reminds him. “And as a memory reader myself, I know very well that the scanning will mess up Victor’s head much more than my own. You wish me to talk because you’re trying to spare poor Victor, aren’t you? Is that more correct?”
Chase seems a little surprised. Cynthia has surmised everything correctly. I have to admit she’s really clever. Chase continues asking questions, attempting to intimidate Cynthia. But she’s been through numerous interrogations before and knows the drill all too well.
“All right,” Chase finally says. “I give up. Victor, she’s yours.”
“Wait,” I say. “I need to speak with her first. Leave us alone for a bit.”
Nobody moves. Cynthia watches me intently.
“What exactly are you planning to do with her?” Jessie asks me.
“For goodness sakes, Jess!” I exclaim. “I said I just want to speak with her.”
“Well, speak then,” she says. “We’ll just listen.”
I give her a hard look. I know Cynthia won’t answer my questions in their presence. I have to speak to her alone to have any hope of getting her to open up.
“All right,” Jessie groans after a long pause, proceeding toward the door.
“Just don’t do anything too crazy,” Chase says passing by.
They all think I want to get Cynthia alone to kill her. I did feel that way an hour ago, but there’s no desire to do so at the moment. I’m empty and tired. I just want to learn her side of the story before we waste her.
Cynthia and I are finally left alone. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, wondering what I should say. Cynthia watches me curiously.
“I should advise you that there’s nothing you can do to make me talk,” she says.
I remember myself saying almost those exact words once to an Elimination captain.
“I realize that,” I assure her.
“Why don’t you remove these handcuffs?” Cynthia asks, grinning. “My wrists hurt.”
“C’mon Cynthia,” I answer. “That’s not even a good try.”
“I guess we finally figured out who’s the better fighter,” she suddenly says. “Remember our phone conversation? You were wondering whether you could overpower me. I hate to admit it, but you did come out on top. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Although you almost killed me.”
“Almost wasn’t good enough. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have dived for the gun. I should have kept kicking you in the head or just scratched out your eyes.”
“We all make mistakes,” I state.
“I won’t give up any information,” she warns. “I won’t betray Guardian. So don’t bother wasting your time.”
“I’m not here to speak about Guardian.”
“Oh, really?” She looks up, now interested. “Now that’s intriguing.”
“Why did you kill all those innocent people, Cynthia?” I ask. “How did you make such a decision?”
She becomes quiet.
“C’mon,” I say. “Tell me.”
“And what exactly are you planning to do should I not tell you?” Cynthia asks, stretching her bruised lips once again into a wide grin. “Will you beat me? I’ve already told you there’s nothing you can do to impress me. You can’t make me talk.”
“You don’t have to answer,” I say. “I’m not gonna beat you.”
“Well now, that’s a really unique method of interrogation,” she says.
“I’m not interrogating you, Cynthia. I’m mostly just curious, I suppose. I want to understand what made you become a terrorist. And I do hope to get an honest answer from you. I think I deserve some small consideration from you, after everything you’ve put me through.”
Cynthia seems perplexed. It looks like I’ve somehow managed to impress her after all. She remains silent for a couple of minutes, thinking and studying my face.
“Ah, hell with it,” she finally says. “Why not answer your question? It seems harmless enough.” She pauses, sighing. “You ask why I killed those people. Well, it’s because they deserved to be killed. They’re non-breakers.”
“They didn’t do anything to you,” I remind her.
“I hadn’t done anything bad to them either until Elimination captured me,” she counters. “Do you have any idea what those non-breakers put me through?”
“I think I may have a hunch,” I say.
“Don’t pretend to understand. How long were you incarcerated? A few weeks? I spent half of my life locked up for no reason. Do you really want to hear what Elimination did to me?”
I nod.
Cynthia smiles, then calmly begins telling me how Elimination scientists drilled holes in her skull. She tells how officers captured and murdered her relatives who had tried to protect her. How the guards broke her ribs while beating her. How they kept her without food for days on end, all just to break her spirit.
I offer no comments, just listening to her story. After she finishes, we both remain silent for a while. I realize that right now she doesn’t look much like the girl who approached me in the refugee center a few weeks ago. She’s not even the ferocious killer with whom I earlier spoke on the phone. Perhaps I’m seeing the real Cynthia, the way she used to be before Elimination ruined her life.
“I’m really sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” I say. “But you shouldn’t have made the innocent pay for what Elimination did. That was wrong.”
“Do you actually think I killed those people out of revenge?” She lets out a laugh. “C’mon, R
ex. You’re smarter than that. It’s never been about vengeance. I just hate ordinary people. I treat them the same way they treat us. And I kill them simply because I can. They’re completely helpless against us.”
I take a moment to consider her words, trying to view the world through Cynthia’s eyes.
“I don’t think I could ever understand such pointless violence,” I say.
“Too bad,” she sighs. “You’re a good soldier. I’m sure I could find a place for you in my squad.”
“I don’t really think it would work out, Cynthia.”
“Well, perhaps you’re right. I probably wouldn’t keep you alive for long. You’re too dangerous.”
“As are you,” I say.
“Thank you. That’s really sweet.” She smirks.
“What did Guardian promise you?” I ask. “Did he promise to make you the leader of his army, should you kill me?”
“You said we wouldn’t be speaking about Guardian.”
“Well, I don’t think answering that particular question could possibly hurt him.”
She remains silent for a moment, then says, “You’ve guessed correctly. I’d become the leader of the Army of Justice, as long as I proved that I was a better candidate for the role. In doing so, I was to cut off your head, along with the heads of Kitty and Holtzmann, and deliver them to Guardian.” She smiles broadly, looking straight into my eyes. “Any more questions?”
I don’t have any other questions in mind, so I open the door and inform the team that Victor may now read Cynthia’s memories. I exit the cell and wait in the corridor, while he’s conducting his business.
Fifteen minutes later, the team returns and Victor explains that there shouldn’t be any other terrorists in the city. Which is good news. But the bad news is that Guardian’s army is preparing for another attack on the city. They’re planning a massive strike toward the end of the month.
I realize that we won’t have time to complete our project.
“Inform Holtzmann,” Chase commands. “And bring him in here.”
After Victor leaves, he asks who wants to finish off Cynthia. Marcus, Kitty and Jessie all volunteer.
“Let’s pull matches,” Jessie suggests. “Whoever gets the long one is the lucky winner.”
She finds a pack of matches in her pocket, pulls out three and breaks two.
“Make it four,” I say, joining the contest. Although I no longer have any desire to kill Cynthia by my own hand, I simply don’t want to make the others do all the dirty work.
We draw matches, and I pull the long one.
“Lucky you,” Jessie comments. “So how are you gonna put her out of her misery?”
“Do her slowly,” Kitty says. “Make her pay for Dave’s death.”
I don’t follow her suggestion, because there’s no point in torturing Cynthia any further. Doing so wouldn’t bring back Vogel, Dave or any of her other victims. It would only serve to make me like Butcher and other hardened criminals. And that’s precisely what I hope to avoid.
I borrow a rifle from Marcus and lead Cynthia out into the prison yard. My team follows behind. I command Cynthia to turn around, standing with her back to me.
“No,” she answers. “I want to look into the eyes of my killer.”
“All right,” I agree. “Any last words?”
“Go to hell,” she says, smiling.
“Ladies first,” Chase replies.
I aim the barrel of my rifle toward Cynthia’s forehead. There’s no fear whatsoever in her eyes. I have to admit she’s very brave if misguided. I pull the trigger and watch as her body falls.
“Nicely done,” Kitty comments.
Chase directs his officers to remove Cynthia’s corpse. We return inside the prison to speak with Holtzmann. The professor seems to be in total distress. He says that the only way to complete the project before the coming attack is by increasing the dosage of the drug. Although doing so would subsequently worsen its side effects. Up until now, Kitty and I have been receiving only minimal amounts of the drug to minimize health risks. There’s no way to predict how our bodies might react to an increased amount.
“Are you sure there’s no other option?” I ask him.
Holtzmann shakes his head negatively. I don’t know what we should do. I hate endangering Kitty’s life any more than we have to, and that’s just what would occur by letting her inject larger amounts of the drug. But if we don’t stop Guardian, his army will certainly kill every resident in this city, including Kitty.
“Let’s do it,” she whispers, taking my hand. “Please. You know we have to cut the head off the snake.”
“All right,” I sigh. “We’ve agreed to having the dosage increased, Holtzmann. Looks like we don’t have a choice.”
Part 3
Chapter 24
The refugee center takeover cost more than two hundred lives. The terrorists gunned about half the victims down, the rest being killed by the tranquilizer gas.
I have no idea whether the decision to use toxic gas inside the building was appropriate or not. Perhaps there was a better solution. But I don’t want to think about it, because what’s done is done. It seems that no matter what choices we make, we always have to face the same consequence. We wind up burying people. People continue dying for no reason. That’s our reality in the harsh world in which we live. And I don’t know whether there’s anything we might do to change that. How to stop all this mindless killing? How to change an outcome seemingly set in stone?
Two days later, our team gathers with a few dozen Elimination soldiers at the city cemetery to bury Vogel and Dave. It’s wartime, so we don’t really follow any official protocol. Nobody has much to say. We stand gathered around the graves, solemnly watching as dirt is shoveled over the coffins. Each deeply immersed in our own thought.
I try not to think about the deceased. I try to keep my mind busy, thinking about ways to survive the injections, the mission of Guardian’s assassination and a possible looming attack on the city. But just being here, looking over the hundreds of freshly dug graves isn’t helping my task. This cemetery has recently become significantly larger. And my thoughts continually revert back to the very images I’m consciously trying to avoid. I envision Vogel lying on a gurney in the hospital, pale and motionless, a nasty scar across her chest. I remember Dave covering the grenade with his body. I wonder why it was him, and not me, to do something like that.
Distracting myself, I turn to find Jessie. She’s keeping her distance, away from the others, casually smoking a cigarette. Her face is unconcerned as always, and I can see neither regret nor pain in her eyes.
I approach her at the conclusion of the funeral to express my condolences. Jessie sighs, saying, “I’m not like the rest of you, Rex. I never fall in love, and no, I didn’t love Dave. But I just hate thinking that one more good guy has been killed. It’s too bad.”
I’m not sure whether I believe Jessie or not. But I don’t force her to continue the conversation. No matter what she says, I know she’s upset and it’s better to leave her be for a while.
Regardless of the need to conserve ammo, the officers fire off three volleys to pay respect to the deceased. Then we all take a last lingering look over the graves before heading back to headquarters. Time for mourning is over, now it’s time to finish this war.
***
Later in the day, I stop by Rebecca’s quarters and she lets me in. I haven’t had opportunity to visit her in the hospital because we have been too busy evacuating the victims and then collecting the dead. Rebecca looks a little thinner than usual, and she’s pale as a ghost. I ask how she’s feeling, worried about possible side effects of the tranquilizer gas. Rebecca assures me that she’s fine.
“I still can’t believe that Cynthia orchestrated all that,” she says after a long pause. “How could I have been so mistaken about her? And even after learning the truth about Cynthia, I still thought I could somehow influence her. She did treat me a bit differently than the other
s. I begged her to free the children and allow us to have some food, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“You did great, Rebecca,” I assure her. “You helped my sister escape, and convinced Cynthia to provide some water to the hostages.”
“It was you who captured and killed Cynthia, right?” Rebecca asks.
I nod. She offers no further comment.
“Egbert wasn’t too worried about me, was he?” she wonders.
“Of course he was,” I answer, keeping secret the fact that Holtzmann never expressed any concern for his cousin during the entire situation.
“He really only cares about his science,” Rebecca sighs.
I begin speaking in Holtzmann’s defense, but she quiets me with a sharp look. We share a few moments of silence, then I leave to return to my team.
***
Kitty remains glum for the rest of the day and finally breaks down at night. She lies across the bed, pressing her face into the pillow and weeping. I sit beside her, patting her shoulder.
“Why did Dave have to die?” Kitty sobs. “He never did anything bad in his life. And remember the party we planned to have on the beach after the war? Dave won’t be going with us now… And he was looking forward to going so much, because he’d never been to a beach party before.”
I remain silent. I very much want to say how everything will be all right, but I know it just isn’t true.
“All the good people are dying,” Kitty states. “I hate this war! I can’t take it anymore!”
“There now,” I whisper, holding her close. “Calm down. Please don’t cry.”
My words aren’t helping much and Kitty continues crying. I look over helplessly at her. The door to our quarters opens and my sister enters the room. Her eyes are still swollen from the funeral. She approaches and sits on the edge of the bed. Kitty lets out another sob and throws her arms around my sister. Holding her, Marian glances at me, then toward the door. I nod in understanding, pick up a book from the stack and quietly exit the room.
