by Miria Masdan
I hear the noise again from behind me. I look to Quinn he is already across the street. I go. I start off with a slow run. My ankle hurts, but I push through it. I’m halfway across when I see a man. He’s standing in the middle of the road to my left. I stop. I look to my right, another man. I hear the noise from behind me again. I don’t look.
Quinn is grabbing me, pulling me; I don’t resist. We enter a space between the buildings. I can feel the walls with both of my shoulders. I can hear the men enter the alley behind us. We are running, each step is excruciating. Quinn drags me along; I don’t have time to think about the pain. My fear is taking over, and I push on.
We burst out into an open area. I have no idea where we are going; I just follow Quinn. There’s not much debris, so we navigate quickly across and into another alley. I just clear the walls, when I hear the shot. It hits right next to my head, breaking the brick and sending pieces out in all directions. Quinn jolts forward, taking me along with him.
I hear another gunshot; I wait for more pieces of brick to hit me, but nothing does. I don’t look back. I don’t want to see how close they are; I just want to concentrate on Quinn. We come out into a street. It’s different than the other streets we’ve been on; there are smaller buildings than before. It’s difficult to tell in the dark, but they look like houses. We run alongside one, and into a backyard. There is a fence, only a few feet high. Quinn jumps over effortlessly and runs for a few feet.
“Come on,” he shouts.
“I don’t…”
“Now!”
I grab a hold of the fence and lift my good leg over. I swing myself over and land solidly on the ground. I turn to Quinn, but I am met with the business end of a rather large gun.
Quinn has his gun drawn and pointed at one of the people, but they also have a gun pointed at him. There are five of them, and no chance that we are going to get away. One of them is a female; she is holding a light.
“I will shoot her,” a rather large man holding the gun at my head says. He is deformed. I can’t take my eyes off of him. His face is not smooth, and his hair is long, shaggy, and gray in color. Their clothes are tattered, and the man next to me is emitting a foul odor. I gag and cover my mouth.
Quinn lowers his gun, and they are on top of him before it hits the ground. They are hitting him, and a tall skinny man kicks him in the side. Quinn lets out a grunt. He grabs the man’s leg and knocks him over. The others quickly pin him down and secure his hands behind his back.
The man next to me grabs my arm, and the others drag Quinn. We pass through a few more backyards until we come to a large two story building. We pass a sign that says: Elementary School.
Someone opens the gate, and we enter the compound. We enter the building through a set of double doors. They lead us to a room, open the door and lock us inside.
“Are you okay?” I untie Quinn’s hands.
He gets up, holding his side. He walks over to the door and tries the handle. It doesn’t move. He walks over to the opposite wall and feels around.
“Are there windows over there?” I say. “Maybe we can break one and get away.”
“There are people all over the place outside,” he says. “We won’t make it.”
“We have to try something,” I say. “I have to get back.”
“How did you and Benson,” he shakes his head, “it doesn’t make sense.”
“Adam is my proctor,” I say. “I thought he was a good man.”
“And you don’t now?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“What is it that I am supposed to remember,” he asks? “All I know is that Benson is going to demand retribution if anything happens to you.”
“You’re afraid of him?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “He’s the son of one of the most influential members of the Federation. It won’t go well for me, or our friends. It still doesn’t make sense; you’re no one, and he’s a Benson.”
“We are all equal in the Federation,” I say.
“See that’s what I mean,” he says. “No one is equal. You’re naive and sheltered.”
“It’s just your program,” I say. “You have no capacity for anything but doubt and violence.”
“I should have left you,” he said. “You’re too much trouble and you’re too slow.”
“I didn’t ask you to come back for me,” I say. “I was doing just fine on my own.”
“You would’ve been caught,” he says.
“What, kind of like we are now?” I snap. “You don’t seem to be helping much.”
I can’t help but wonder what I see in him. Why do I always try and save him? I thought when I found him; we’d fall into each other’s arms and be madly in love. He was what kept me sane all those years; the hope and the desire that he promised me. Now, he is just a jerk, willing to leave me, sacrifice me to save himself and his Federation.
I slide down the wall next to the door and rest my head on my knees. My ankle is throbbing, and my heart is broken. When I saw him, I knew him, I loved him, but now I am lost. My heart skipped in anticipation of his touch. And here he is, right before me, and there is nothing between us: no spark, desire or love.
“Are you hurt?” he asks. He touches my ankle, and I grimace. “How bad?”
“I twisted it,” I say. I can’t tell if he’s concerned about me, or if he’s trying to decide to leave me or not, “it’s swollen, but I can manage.”
The door opens, and two men enter. Quinn stands up. He looks down at me. The man closest to me grabs my arm and pulls me up. The other man has a gun, and he’s pointing it at Quinn.
Quinn steps forward. The man stands his ground. I try to pull away from the man; I twist and yank. He tightens his grip. I slap him and use all my weight against him. He grabs my other hand and twists me around. I squirm, but he is stronger than me.
“I’m worth more than she is,” says Quinn. “A Federation officer catches a hefty price.”
“That’s why we are leaving you here,” he says. “We’ve got other plans for her.”
Quinn rushes at them. He and the man exchange punches. The gun lands next to my feet. The man holding me reaches down. I take the opportunity to push him. He’s not expecting it, and he falls into the door. I grab for the gun, but he kicks me hard in the side. I land on the floor, gasping for air.
I look at Quinn. He is fast, but his opponent is big and strong. He looks down at me. The man hits him square in the face. He falls. The man jumps on him, pinning him under him. He’s pounding him with his fist. I get up and grab the man. He throws his elbow back, hitting me in the shoulder.
I try to hit him back, but the other man grabs me and drags me out of the room. The other man grabs my feet. I try and kick my legs free. They take me up a set of stairs, and into a room.
They set me down. We aren’t alone. There are five people sitting at a large round table. There are shelves with books all over the room. I look around. I’ve seen pictures of places like this, but never in real life. I did see a book once in my attic it belonged to my great grandmother, once at Grace’s house, and this morning.
“Welcome,” the woman sitting in the middle says. “We didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“Do I know you,” I ask?
“You do,” she says, “but you wouldn’t remember me, would you?”
“No,” I say.
“You can’t stay in the Under,” she says. “It’s not safe for you. I’ve sent a message to Peter. He’ll let us know what to do with you.”
“What about Quinn,” I say. A thousand thoughts are racing through my mind. “Peter?”
“He’s a Federation officer,” she says. “He will be dealt with accordingly. And Peter will be happy to know you are safe.”
“What does that mean,” I ask?
“I assume you are talking about the officer. He will be given a fair trial for his crimes against the Under,” she says. “And then he will be punished ac
cording to the verdict.”
“You’re going to kill him,” I say.
“Most likely,” she says. “It is the usual punishment.”
“What is this place,” I ask?
“You already know,” she says. “When you finish your current program, you’ll remember.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“It is not my place to educate you,” she says. “Peter will decide.”
“Who is Peter,” I ask?
“Again, not my place,” she says. “But I do want you to do something for me.”
“What,” I ask?
“I have a message,” she says. “Tell him it wasn’t false hope, that what he seeks does exist, and we’re going to get to it first. Tell him that I have the upper hand, and I won’t need his help any longer.”
“Peter,” I ask? “How will I find him?”
“He’ll find you,” she says.
“How,” I ask?
“Take her back downstairs,” she says. “It will send a message to Peter that I will not tolerate these intrusions.”
The men take me back to Quinn. This time I do not resist. They unlock the door, push me inside, and lock the door behind me. I find Quinn sitting next to the door. I kneel next to him.
“Are you okay,” I ask? The room is dark, and I can’t see his face clearly.
He grabs me and pulls me to him. I can smell his blood. I pull back and feel his face. I wipe his check.
“Did they…,” he asks? His voice cracks, “did they hurt you?”
“No,” I say. “They just asked me questions.”
I bury my face in his chest. His arms tighten around me. I do love him; now I just need to remind him that he loves me too.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Why?”
“I didn’t want you to get involved,” I say. “I have no idea what we’re up against, but I know it’s not safe for you.”
“Who are you,” he asks?
“I have no idea, but I do know you are the most important person to me,” I say.
“But I don’t even know you,” he says.
“No, you don’t remember me.” I look up at him. I kiss his lips. He doesn’t return the gesture. I stand up.
He tries to stand, but he drops back down. He lets out a groan. “Damn it!”
“You’re hurt,” I say, reaching my hand out to help him. “We need to get you out of here. They’re going to kill you.”
He stands up, refusing my hand. I know he is in pain, but he walks over to the wall to our left. He pushes a table aside.
“There’s a door back here,” he says, “it’s behind a stack of tables, but I think I can pick the lock and get us to the next room. Hopefully, the door won’t be locked, and we can escape.”
“Okay,” I stand up. He looks at my face.
“Can you run?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “What about you?”
“I’m good,” he says.
We push the tables away from the door. He messes with the lock, and I hear it snap. He looks up at me, with a big smile. My heart melts. I love his smile. I shake my head. I need to clear my mind and focus on myself. I need to get out of here, and I need to do it on my own. I can’t rely on him until he remembers everything.
“Come on,” he snaps, “what are you waiting for?”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
We squeeze through the door. The next room is similar to the one we just left, but it is a corner room. There are windows on two sides of the room. He walks over to the door and tries the handle. It turns and opens. He closes it quickly.
“There is a man outside of the room we were in,” he says. “He has a gun.”
“What now?”
“Listen to me,” he says, “you need to go back into that room and pound on the door, do whatever you can to get him to open the door for you. I’ll come up from behind him, take his gun and then let you out. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I say, “but what if more come?”
“Just do it!” he snaps.
I go into the room and try the handle. It’s still locked. I knock on the door. No one answers. I pound on the door.
“Help me!” I shout. “Please…”
No response.
“He’s going to kill me,” I shout. I pound on the door, and then I kick over a pile of junk, making a loud bang and clanking noise.
I make a gagging noise, as I throw myself against the door. I kick and bang and moan.
Finally, I hear the lock release. The handle turns, and he opens the door slightly.
“Please!” I beg. “Help me.”
He pushes the door and steps into the room. I step back just in time. Quinn rushes him from behind, and they both fall to the ground. Quinn wrestles him; the man is fighting back, but he is smaller than Quinn. The gun slides across the floor landing right beside me. I pick it up and hold it away from my body like it is diseased.
I hear a guttural groan, and I turn to see Quinn’s arms around the man’s throat. The man is fighting, pulling at Quinn, but he is unsuccessful. The man slumps and Quinn lets him drop.
“You killed him?”
“Let’s go,” he says.
“Why?” I rasp.
“I’m leaving,” he says, “you can join me, or you can stay. But know this I will not be coming back for you again.”
I can’t say anything. My throat is tight, and my head is spinning. I’ve seen him kill two people tonight, and he doesn’t care. He has no remorse.
He walks out the door. He doesn’t look back at me. He doesn’t say anything. He just leaves.
I hesitate. But I decide to follow him. I need to get back on top, and he is the only one who can get me there. We turn to our right. At the end of the hall, there is another set of double doors. He opens the doors and steps outside. We walk towards the back of the building. We are just about to turn the corner when a man steps in front of us.
He stops quickly and starts to say something, but doesn’t finish because Quinn shoots him in the chest. He falls backward. My ears are ringing, and all I can see is the surprised look on the man’s face. I look down at him. He is dressed much like the men who captured us, but he is much younger. I’d say maybe fifteen or sixteen.
I’m shaking. I can’t control it. I’m scared to stay, but even more terrified to go with him. He grabs my arm. I can’t react. I have no control over myself. He drags me along. We come to a low stone wall. He picks me up and tosses me over. I land on my feet. He takes my hand, and we run. We run through a maze of buildings and junk. I can hear them behind us; shouting and running. Their feet hit the ground in a barrage of bangs and scuffs.
I hear another noise. It sounds like a shuttle. The low hiss, as it breaks through the air, reminds me of my sister and our conversation this morning. I don’t look, but Quinn does. I see his gaze go up, and his pace quickens. We duck into a backyard, away from the road. We travel in between houses until we come to a road. We stop.
An old car hides us. He yanks me towards him. I lose my balance and land in his arms. He pushes away.
“You need to pay attention,” he hisses. “We are almost there, but I need you to be fast.”
I don’t say anything. I think I might be in shock. I think about it for a moment. If I am in shock, would I be able to question whether or not I am or not. I gazing off into nothing, I am not seeing what is before me.
He grabs my face. I look at him for a brief second. I see his eyes, but I wonder if I am dreaming again. I wonder if it will end like it always does; me trying to sacrifice myself for him, and him ruining my attempts by dying, regardless of my efforts. Will I be sad? I always am in my nightmare, but I know him a little better now, and I’m not sure that I like him very much.
“Emma,” his voice is sweet, even when he is angry. “Look at me! Damn it!”
He grabs my hand and takes off running again. I go, without hesitation. I am numb. I hear the hiss of the shuttle again. Quinn seems to be con
cerned. He pulls me under a porch. I can see the lights go overhead. I reach out for them. He grabs my hand and yanks it back to my side. I try to wiggle free, but his grip is too tight. I force my breaths through my clenched teeth.
“Shhh,” he whispers in my ear. “Emma, please…if they find us. I won’t be able to help you or your friends.”
His words are warm against my skin. I close my eyes and rest my head on his chest. I can envision him, lying next to me with his eyes open, looking upward. I can smell him, and it is familiar. I open my eyes and look at him. I remember him and me in the security office. I remember kissing him; his hands on me, his mouth on me.
I touch his face. He doesn’t pull away. He leans towards me. I can feel his lips upon mine. His hands are gently holding the base of my neck; his fingers tangled in my hair.
I can’t sort out what is real, what is a nightmare, and what are memories, a sharp pain, jabs at my brain. I grab my head and squeeze. The white hot pain paralyzes me. I can feel him tugging. I can’t move. He pulls and yanks. I want to open my eyes and look at him, but I can’t. I can feel him lift me, toss me over his shoulder. My head rest on his back. My hair wraps around my face, getting caught in my open mouth. I gag, but I don’t get sick. He jabs his shoulder into my abdomen, and each step he takes sends a wave of nausea throughout my body. But I am relieved that I am no longer standing on my ankle.
We walk like this for a while. He stops and sets me down. I’m surprised, I open my eyes. I am leaning against a wall. I can see an open area to my left and houses across the street.
He knocks.
A few minutes go by before I hear any movement inside. A woman answers the door.
“Oh my Lord,” she smiles, “we haven’t seen you in a long time. Your friends arrived awhile ago. We were just thinking about coming to look for you.”
She looks down at me. She is like the man with the gun. Her face is squishy, and her hair is gray and white. I look at her.
“Is she hurt?”
“It’s not her blood,” He says. “But I killed Marcus. Maggie, I don’t know if they followed us. We got messed up with the west end crew. I killed two of them.”
