by A. M. White
“Good lord.” Jason murmured.
“Listen, if anyone else has a better plan, please step up at any time.” Timothy panted.
“You could go a little easier on your choke-hold.” The doctor offered.
Cara kicked him. He grumbled under his breath.
“There is a scanner to the right of the doorway. My arm won’t fit that far.” Timothy explained.
“I guess big biceps don’t always pay off.” Jason teased.
Cara smacked him upside the helmet.
“I’ll do it.” I took the badge from Timothy. My arm slid through the bars and I felt along the wall for the box. There wasn’t anything, so I stood on my toes to extend a few more inches. My fingers bumped into the sharp corner of the scanner. I lifted the badge over the front.
The device sprang to life. “Steady 3, Connor.” I retracted my arm just in time to escape the gate as it swung ajar. I hung Connor’s badge around my neck, in case we had the opportunity to leave.
Timothy hauled Jameson through the entrance. The door slammed shut. The lock bolted loudly. The finality of the sound struck me.
Inside, Timothy passed Jameson to Cara. “You and Jason take him. There may be more soldiers. I will do what I can to buy you enough time to put the shard in place. Everyone, pull your knives, there won’t be a way to avoid confrontation. It is likely that they won’t have guns; too risky around the machines.” He quickly disposed of the soldier on the ground and scooted him out of view. Timothy took our guns and piled them next to the dead soldier.
Armed only with our knives, we moved together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The red lights made eerie shadows in all the corners they couldn’t reach. Our boots made gritty contact with the earth. The doctor’s feet scuffled along. They were the loudest announcement of our arrival.
We wove our way down a maze. “One way in, one way out.” I thought to myself.
Finally, we turned a corner where brighter light cascaded into our tunnel.
Timothy held his finger to his lips. He crept along the wall and peeked inside. The rest of us waited silently.
He came back and held up three fingers to signal the number of soldiers inside. Then he pointed to himself. He would lead, we should wait until he entered.
I held my breath as he turned and walked into the room. A yell came from his direction. A body hit the floor.
We sprang into action. I was aware that Timothy was in a struggle with a soldier on our left. The walkie in the soldier’s hand beeped on and off.
“Make the call!” A voice rang out, before a crunch of bone echoed.
One soldier remained.
I froze at the sight of the massive machine that lined the back wall. It was the exact machine I had drawn over and over. Here it was.
“Come on!” Cara yelled at me. She and Jason were almost to the main control board.
The third soldier rushed at her from the opposite side of the panel. Timothy sprinted toward him, but it was too late. The soldier crashed into Cara and knocked her to the ground. Blood sprayed from their bodies.
Timothy threw the soldier off her. He landed at my feet. Cara’s knife protruded from his throat. I straddled him and raised my weapon. “Did you make the call?” I demanded.
An alarm answered me. The soldier’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Timothy was on his knees next to Cara. Jason still had one of the doctor’s arms. “Do it now!” Cara screamed over the alarm. Jason pushed the doctor toward the machine.
“Cara, I can’t.” Timothy stammered as I came to them.
Timothy had his hands pressed on a wound at the side of Cara’s neck.
“Timothy, I’ve got her.” I rested my hand on his shoulder.
He bowed his head.
“Now!” Cara struggled.
I dropped beside her and slid my hand under his. Cara’s warm blood seeped through my fingers. Timothy looked dazed. I shoved him. “Go!”
He joined the others at the machine. Their backs were to me, so I couldn’t see what transpired. To be honest, I was more worried about Cara.
She looked up at me and smiled. “I will be happy if the last thing I hear is that machine being overloaded.”
“It won’t be. You are going to be okay.” I wasn’t sure I believed myself. She had lost a lot of blood. It pooled under her head. Her hair was soaked. The color drained from her face. “Maybe they will get you some of that really good medicine you always carry.”
She grinned weakly.
“I hate to be impatient, but hurry!” I yelled at the guys.
Timothy turned from the machine. “Jameson did it! Let’s go!” He lifted Cara while I kept my hand over the wound. “We have to move. There is no telling what will happen when the machine overloads. It may catch fire when it transmits the energy to the others.”
We ran toward the exit. I couldn’t keep a good amount of pressure on Cara’s wound. She passed out. Timothy stopped to reposition her neck into the crevice of his elbow. That gave Jason time to catch up with us.
Jameson didn’t move from the machine.
“What are you doing? Get out!” I screamed at him.
The alarm blasted from every direction. The red lights blinked. A buzz cranked from the machine, it grew louder, more frantic.
“I have to stay!” The doctor yelled above the noise. “I can try to buy you a little time!”
“No!” I turned to run back for him.
Jason grabbed my arm and spun me toward him. “Let him. He needs to make it right.”
Jason’s words stabbed through my heart. Jameson wanted to make it right. It was his dying wish.
The doctor caught my eye. “Thank you.” I nodded at him and bolted out of the room.
The machine cranked itself to a high-pitched squeal. The noise from it and the alarms was deafening. I released Jason to cover my ears.
We caught up to Timothy in the entry. He held Cara away from the tunnel. Soldiers were at the gate. They yelled, but the noise was too loud to hear what they said.
The Earth began to rumble. I directed the boys to a space where the soldiers couldn’t see us. We were protected from the mouth of the tunnel. My hands gripped at the boys’ clothes. The ground shook violently.
The earth jolted with such force that I fell. The Earth itself, heaved under me. The machine released its last Roar. It penetrated my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut. An intense heat flooded over me. I was sure we were all dead.
Jason
My eyes slowly opened. The light that beamed down shocked my system. I squinted, but only hazy shadows came into view. I blinked in hopes that it would clear my vision. It didn’t. I tried to lift my arms to rub them, I couldn’t feel them. There was muffled noise around me. They were tones and rhythms that may have been speech. None of sounds were recognizable.
Then I panicked. I couldn’t hear, see, or feel correctly. Fear crashed down on me. I felt the vibration in my throat of a scream, but I only heard a distant echo of my voice.
It reminded me of when I used to get frustrated, before the Roars. I would stomp into my room, slam the door behind me, and flop onto my pillow to muffle my release of anger. My dad would never allow an outward display of emotion like that. Even in the sanctuary of my room, I feared he would hear and come quiet me with his belt.
I wanted to thrash about. I wanted to feel my body flail to know I was still alive. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this is what it feels like when you die; aware and able to think.
A wisp of air brushed my cheek. It resembled air mixed with a sand blaster, as a chaser. My lips cringed at the raw pain it sent through the skin. I knew the pain. It was the pain of a deep burn.
I wouldn’t be able to move my face if I was dead. If there were people around, I was sure that they could see my facial movements. That gave me a glimmer of hope. Someone might realize that I’m not dead.
“Help me. Help me please.” I chanted in my brain.
Cara
&
nbsp; A groan woke me. Another groan rolled over me. It dawned on me that they were mine.
“Had we done it?” I thought I recalled Timothy after they had placed the shard into the machine. Hopefully, that wasn’t a dream or a hallucination.
I tilted my head to the side. The skin on my neck tugged uncomfortably. I remembered that I had been attacked and had suffered a wound there. An idiot soldier snuck up on me. I attempted to lift my hand to touch it, but my wrists were caught by restraints.
My eyes darted around the room. I was in medical quarters. A white sheet blocked the view of the other half of the room.
“Alex? Jason? Timothy?” I whispered harshly. There was no reply.
A steel cart had been wheeled to the side of my bed. It had a few bloody utensils piled on the sterile surface.
I saw no door. I raised my head to look at the other side of the room. The skin tugged again. My legs had bandages on them, all the way to my hips. I shifted them. Movement hurt like crazy. The bandages felt like they were made of fiberglass. That wasn’t right.
I shimmied my lower half to a wrist cuff. The pain made me clench my teeth. Sweat beaded on my upper lip from the effort and anger. I slid my fingers under the white gauze and peeled it back gently. My eyes focused through the gap. The skin on my leg was raw. A spot of skin appeared to be charred.
My fingers released the wrap. I slammed my head back onto the bed. “How in the world did this happen?” I wondered.
After the soldier attacked, I had fallen in and out of consciousness as Alex watched over me. Her hand had been warm on my throat. I thought I remembered Timothy scoop me into his arms. I sighed. I wasn’t sure.
I punched the side of the bed. The clatter of the metal chains was fierce.
Timothy
The room teemed with people. At first, it was only medics in their white lab coats. That only lasted until they refused to tell me where the others were. They didn’t respond well when I snapped the chain that tethered my wrist to the bed and threw one of the crew members to the floor. That was when they cleared the room.
I was alone. I felt pain when I moved, but hadn’t inspected myself or the wounds that cried out. Some tape on my head came lose when I assaulted the medic, so I knew there was an issue there. My torso was bandaged, along with my arms.
I unraveled my wrapped arm. As I got to the last layer, heat emitted from the wounds. I couldn’t peel it back further. The skin oozed and was blistered. The heat I experienced after the Roar must have been an explosion. I was badly burned.
A metal tray was dropped when the medics scurried from the room. It was just out of my reach. I used my foot to drag it closer. Once it was in my hand, I held it to my face. The patch of gauze still hung by a shred of tape. I plucked it off and tossed it. The reflection was fuzzy, but I could make out a jagged cut from the bridge of my nose across my cheek bone. Stitches had already been used to pull the skin back together.
A strange chuckle erupted from my lips. Alex had a scar very much like the one I was destined to acquire.
I was interrupted by soldiers. The medics brought soldiers to protect them. I won’t lie; they needed protection.
Two of the soldiers pinned me to the bed, while another stabbed me in the arm with a syringe. I became drowsy and subdued. Extra cuffs were placed around my wrists and ankles, in case the tranquilizer wore off.
My mouth moved too slowly. It felt like I had cotton in my cheeks. “You will tell me what happened to them.” It was meant to sound threatening and firm. Unfortunately, it came out like a drug induced slur.
Cara
My first visitor was a small healer. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. That and the gray smock gave away her job. I had worn those, once upon a time.
Every medic had to go through a period of training as a healer. It was like an apprenticeship.
I sat up, when she came to the foot of the bed. She didn’t acknowledge me.
“Hello?” I cocked my head to catch her eye.
She unhooked my chart from the end of the bed and began to read it. She didn’t look at me.
I clinked the chains on my restraints. “I said, Hello!” She didn’t look up. I flung myself back onto the pillow. “Really? Is this how we are going to do this? I need some answers!”
The healer walked confidently to a shelf on the other side of the room. She took out a bottle of pills and shook two into her hand.
Then she took a plastic cup from a cabinet. She poured water into it from a pitcher. My mouth was dry and the liquid looked heavenly. The healer plopped a bendable straw in the glass. Both the pills and the water were set on a metal cart.
“What are those for?” I asked.
She wheeled the cart next to me in silence. Her gaze never left the pills.
I giggled. “Don’t waste your time. I won’t take them if I don’t know what they are.”
The cart bumped into the side of my bed. The healer turned and made for the curtain.
“I need to know about my brother and friends! Are they alive?” I lifted my head to see the curtain sway from her departure.
I screamed in a rage of frustration.
A buzzer rang once. The chains that attached to my bed loosened. I assumed that it was so I could take the pills.
“I told you, I won’t take those unless I know what they are for!” I yelled to no one.
The water still beckoned. I studied the glass for a minute. The straw bobbed up and down to taunt me.
I used my elbows to lift myself. I had to have water. If nothing else, I had to stay alive long enough to see if the others made it.
I put my palm around the cup and lifted the straw to my lips. I took a sip to test it. The water trickled down my throat. It was cool and flavorless. I gulped down the rest without hesitation.
After, I stared at the pills. They were clear capsules with a white powder packed inside. I contemplated the reasons they were left for me. The pills could be for pain. I didn’t feel any presently. Maybe they were to heal me from the inside out. The questions spun in my mind, without answers.
I scrunched up my face, snatched up the pills, and threw them as hard as I could at the curtain. “Ugh!” I yelled. “I won’t do what you tell me, just because you tell me to!” I bellowed.
The same buzzer blared. The chains recoiled quickly. I was yanked back upon the bed.
I laughed hysterically. “Is that supposed to teach me a lesson? If I don’t do what you say, then I am punished? You should know by now, that isn’t how I work! Give me a little, then maybe I’ll give you a little. Those are my rules!”
I screamed out like a mad woman. I was mad, in so many ways.
Jason
This must be my hell. I must have died and judgment didn’t go my way. In church, the pastor always spoke of hell as a place in the absence of God. There was certainly no God here.
The reasons I was in hell flooded into consideration, neatly lined up to wait for their turn.
I didn’t mourn the death of my father. Even though he was abusive, maybe I should have shed a tear for him. He couldn’t be the reason I would be sent to hell. He would be here.
My mother, I had mourned, briefly. He abused her too, but I had always held a grudge for her weakness. She never protected me; to protect herself.
I felt heat spread through my face for the next reason. I had always liked this girl in middle school. Her name was Layla Ambrose. Man, she had these big, bright pouty eyes. She always smelled like this perfume that intoxicated me. Sometimes, I pictured her with me, alone.
It could be, because I stole food to survive after the Roars. Finn and I used to raid small camps and houses when the people left to hunt. I’m sure we left people hungry at times, to feed ourselves.
I let Finn die. I stood there, with only a small girl there to hold me back. If I had wanted to, I could’ve broken free, but I didn’t. I had been afraid.
Then, there was the soldier I killed, to take his clothes. I had convinced myself that it was
for the greater good; one had to die to save many.
It was still wrong. No life is taken without retribution.
Next, the look on the doctor’s face when I left him to die barged into my mind. I abandoned him, to die alone.
All these thoughts made me feel on the brink of crazy. There was no trial. I hadn’t stood at any pearly gates or had any vision of some holy saint. I was just here.
The pulsations inside my ears drove me wild. I forced myself to focus, to try and make out the words that were said around me. It was hopeless.
It would be easier to stay calm if I could feel myself breathe or hear my heart beat. There was nothing.
Then, I began to feel pressure on my eye lids, as though someone pried them open. I sucked in air. I felt it enter my mouth with no expansion in my chest.
Only hazy rings of light danced in my retinas. The pressure continued to increase until it hurt. I wanted to turn away. My brain told my head to move. It did not.
Something was strapped to my head. It snapped into place on my forehead and then to the back of my head. Its closeness peeked what senses I had. I was aware that my breath was trapped by the thing I could not see. My neck and head was encased by some sort of contraption.
Claustrophobia set in. It caged my mind more than the object around my face. The sensation of warmth made adrenaline rush to the few parts of my body that still felt.
I couldn’t call out. My voice was shoved back down in my throat.
The dread and fear was too much for me to take. I wondered, “Why?”
I was answered again with the line of reasons. I went through them over and over in this place with no God, no saints, no feeling, no concept of time, and no one to tell me why.
Timothy
