Did she need to perform three civil duties each day on top of executing political decisions? No, and she knew it. But Samuel had gotten under her skin when he implied she was lazy because of an expired title. She knew she did far more than he could dream of, but she wanted to ensure it was obvious to everyone. It was a necessity for everyone to work hard, and she wanted to be the kind of leader who led by example, instead of force.
Maybe her efforts would pay off and Samuel would start to respect her. But she had a bad feeling he wouldn’t. Either way, she wanted to know she had done the right thing, even if it fell on deaf ears.
Once she completed spritzing the plants, she returned her equipment to the cupboard. It was time to head to the laundry room to help launder bedding and jumpsuits. Upon arrival, she pulled a set of wrinkled clothes out of the dryer, flipping the next batch before she folded the clothes into piles, sorted by size.
The white noise from the rhythmic agitation calmed her nerves. The repetitive nature of agriculture used to sooth her mind. But now, every time she stepped foot in the greenhouse, she was filled with anxiety about their food rations, despite the joy of watching the plants bloom.
Maybe she didn’t work so hard for noble reasons, or even for self-righteous intentions either. The machines gave her the solitude she needed to quiet her racing mind. Yes, it helped lighten the workload of others, but it held the same soothing effect for her.
Her mind zoned out completely, daydreaming about something she wasn’t fully conscious of. The machine’s repetitive pulsation soothed her until the thumping became less regular.
The irregular sound returned her consciousness to the task at hand and her present space. She turned and looked at the washing machine, questioning how it could have gotten so off kilter.
Did I overload it? Or is there…
Her skin blanched.
That’s gunfire. There’s gunfire inside the dome!
Freya retched open the door, hearing the rapid firing of automatic weapons. She couldn’t comprehend how, but she knew this could only happen for one reason: the State’s military was inside the dome. Their defenses had fallen.
On instinct, she leaned down to her ankle, before remembering that she hadn’t worn her gun in a holster since before she became the Head of State. And since the guard’s rotations were put into place, she hadn’t carried her gun with her.
Stupid.
She needed a weapon. She had to find where the gunfire was coming from. And she had to do it before too many of her people died.
Sweat instantly erupted from her skin, pooling in her lower back, glistening on her brow. Without a conscious thought, she ran. She ran and ran until she reached the elevator to her apartment where her handgun sat idly waiting.
In the back of her mind, she knew she would be better off with an automatic weapon instead of a handgun, but the chance of running into the attackers unarmed was greater in the atrium than anywhere else. At least if she had her handgun, she stood a chance of defending herself, and possibly those around her.
Once in her apartment, she darted into the bedroom to retrieve her handgun from inside her nightstand and ran back to the elevator. The elevator’s descent took an eternity, yet her anxiety spiked as the chime rang when the doors slid open.
Which way should I go? What should I do? And then the most sobering thought struck her: Where is Colin? Or anyone in Security?
It clicked. Security. That was where she had to go. Someone had to warn the others, rally the off duty guards and prepare everyone to fight. She dashed down the hall. With everything in her, she hoped she could find her way to the Security hub without guidance. The route was more familiar now, but she didn’t know if she could find it under so much pressure.
If Colin wasn’t there, then who was? And why hadn’t they noticed the gunfire coming from inside the dome? Her heart pounded, her vision blurred in and out of focus as she ran. Each passageway looked the same as the hall before it until suddenly, she saw the entrance to Security.
With a thud, she pushed open the door. Through her blurred vision, she scanned the room, almost instantly assessing the problem. The room looked more like a childcare center than a space meant to protect them. The children ran in circles, screaming, playing, while a few women clustered together gabbing.
“Where is Colin,” she screamed between heaving breaths. The women looked up, but the children didn’t halt their frolicking. “There is gunfire inside the dome,” Freya’s voice rasped. “Where is Colin?”
One of the women spun around, searching the monitors. She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes instantly filled with tears.
Freya closed the distance between them, peering over the woman’s shoulder. The monitor displayed men wearing blue hazmat suits in the atrium.
“How do I patch into where the off duty guards are? Or anyone?”
The young woman wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry, we didn’t hear anything over the children playing.”
“How do I patch into the system,” Freya screamed. “Do you know?”
She nodded with a tremor in her jaw and began typing on the keyboard.
Freya looked over at the other pregnant women tending to the children. “Take cover. All of you. Get on the floor behind the monitors. We’re under attack.”
The children momentarily fell silent, and the other women ushered them into the corner.
“There,” the woman at the console said. “Just press this button and I’ve got you patched into everything.”
The woman jumped out of the chair, making room for Freya. She sat, took a quick look at the monitors, searching for Colin. She couldn’t see him.
With trembling hands, she pressed down the lever. “We are under attack. I repeat, we are under attack. I currently see three soldiers in blue hazmat suits in the atrium. If you can’t handle a firearm, then hide. Everyone else, we need you armed and ready.”
After she lifted her finger off the button, she turned back to the woman. “Can you see Colin? Or anything? Are there more soldiers anywhere?”
The woman darted over to another set of monitors. She scoured the screens, searching for people. Danger. Anything.
“There!” She yelled and pointed at a screen. “They got through the Second North access, and there are more coming.”
Freya spun in her chair and launched herself forward to peer at the woman’s screen. Freya’s hand clasped over her mouth as she gasped. Blood. Bodies lay in the hall just inside the access, with three blue figures jogging toward the atrium.
“That’s what the guards call it? The Second North access?”
“That’s what Colin said.”
Freya leaned into the microphone, pressing the lever once again. “The Second North access. That’s where they came from. Three more of them have just entered the Second North access. So far, we can only see six of them in total.”
Through moisture glossed eyes, Freya scanned all the monitors in front of her again, and desperately searched for Colin. For fighters. For hope. Suddenly, a jolt of electricity shot through her core. Her jaw fell open as she watched in horror. One soldier hunched in front of the transport device, pulled off the cover, and tinkered with the inner mechanics.
She felt as though she was drowning, unable to breathe through the pressure in her chest.
Are they turning the transport device into a bomb?
A bright light illuminated, answering her silent question. The light was all too familiar. It wasn’t a bomb, just the usual lights the device created.
They turned it on.
Why would they…
One suited man ran through the device while the others remained in the atrium. Then one soldier tinkered with the device again, the light flickering out for only a moment before it lit again.
In seconds, the blue suited man returned. At first she couldn’t comprehend the purpose of them reactivating the transport device until she saw another soldier come through.
Her mouth went dry.
She pressed down on the lever and choked on her words as she spoke. “The State’s soldiers have turned on the transport device and are bringing more soldiers through from Idaho.” She gulped. “Now, three soldiers have crossed through the transport device. I don’t know how many soldiers are at Idaho—make that four soldiers have come through. Everyone who can handle a firearm needs to immediately secure the Second North access and the atrium.”
Freya jumped up from her seat. “I’m going down there.”
The woman’s eyes looked wild. “You? Shouldn’t we leave it to our army?”
Freya took a deep breath. “Keep making announcements, every minute. Talk about what the military is doing, where they are, and how many, without telling the military where any of our people are.”
She nodded, taking in a trembling breath. Just as Freya turned to leave, she called out. “Wait. I found Colin!”
Freya’s heart halted in her chest, causing her to nearly gasp for breath. Hardly conscious of her actions, Freya turned back to the monitor.
There he was. Crouched low in a hallway, just outside of the atrium. Weapon ready. Freya’s head spun.
Where is our army? Why does Colin have to go in first?
Without another word, another thought, she bolted for the door. She didn’t know if she would be more of a help or a liability, but she ran, weaving through the labyrinth of halls.
The halls were empty.
No one arming themselves, panicking, or running toward the fight. All she knew was that with his position, Colin had a better chance of dying than defeating those soldiers. And if Colin died, she had nothing.
The sound of her thunderous footfalls pounded in tandem with her heartbeat until their rhythm was shattered. Rapid-fire echoed in the halls, in her mind, and in her soul.
She crouched to the ground, shielding her head with her arms. After a few moments, she realized the bullets weren’t aimed at her. In a crawl, she slowly worked her way down the hall until arriving at the final door separating her from the atrium.
Sporadic shouts were intertwined between the thunderous gunfight. She looked down the length of the hall, took a deep breath, and released the safety of her handgun. It was time to be brave, braver than she had ever been.
Tucking her back flat against the wall, she pushed open the door, then held herself back to shield herself from any bullets directed her way. It was clear. So, she poked her head out the door.
Blood. That was the first sight her mind registered. She could hardly process the bodies strewn about.
“There are three more men in blue suits almost at the atrium,” a shaky female voice sounded through the speakers. “And three more have entered through the open access point, with now six soldiers have come through the transport device.”
Good. At least if she could hear the announcements, then hopefully everyone else could as well. It was impossible to know how many soldiers the State had in Idaho, but she had to do whatever she could to take out as many as possible.
She slipped out of the hall, taking cover behind an abandoned empty crate for cover. All the soldiers seemed to focus their attention in one direction: Colin’s direction. There was no return fire, just military. She knew what she had to do, but she also knew it could end her life.
She rose to one knee, steadying her aim on top of the metal crate. Standing would feel more natural; she could engage the muscle memory she had developed in the firing range, but it would also make her an easy target.
With one eye closed, she took her aim, firing one clean shot to a soldier’s back. His body jolted before he stumbled to the side, slammed into the soldier beside him, and tumbled to the ground.
Before they could respond, she fired off another shot. This time, not as clean. It pierced the man’s arm, but it also gave away her location.
A third soldier spun on her. She ducked behind the crate as he sent a shower of bullets at her. The sound of metal-on-metal rung in her ears. The vibration made her skin feel hot. Stinging. She flung her hands over her ears to stop the ringing in her head as she laid curled on the floor.
She knew there were more soldiers, and she needed to get up. She needed to help, but she couldn’t lift herself from the floor. Dizziness consumed her; her vision blurred. Waves of nausea rolled around in her core. She rolled onto her back, feeling helpless.
A garbled voice sounded over the speakers, but she couldn’t understand it. The ringing was too severe. Even trying to make out the noise only added another wave of nausea, but this time, it was too much.
Despite her resolve to fight to the bitter end, she rolled over and vomited on the ground beside her. Even after she finished, the nausea kept stirring. Before she could recover, a pair of black boots came into view.
She felt she could black out, but she tried to roll onto her back and draw her gun. Strong hands deftly swiped away her firearm, then gripped onto both of her arms. She pinched her eyes closed, but the gentle shaking communicated that the hands holding her were a friend, not foe. Slowly, she peeked from one eye.
The face blurred in and out of focus until her mind could finally process the familiar features: Aakil.
“Where’s Colin?”
Her voice sounded foreign, and far away. It reminded her of when she dipped her head into the bath as a child.
Aakil’s’ lips moved, but she couldn’t hear anything over the high-pitched ringing in her own head.
He turned his head to the side, appearing to call out to others, but she still couldn’t hear him. Soon, another set of hands gripped her, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She couldn’t tell who was carrying her but knew it wasn’t Colin.
Her body jostled as the man bounded toward the clinic. She turned her head to the side, vomiting once again on the man carrying her. She would have felt humiliated if her mind could register anything other than darkness.
Chapter 35
Freya
Even through her closed eyes, she could decipher the outline of a figure standing beside her bed, from their disruption in the orange and yellow hues. As her eyelids fluttered open, she struggled to focus against the bright lights. Her stomach clenched. Aakil, not Colin, stood at her bedside.
In a panic, she tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Stay down.”
She could hear him, yet his words sounded muffled. “Aakil.” As soon as she spoke, she realized that her own voice sounded distant.
“You might have inner ear damage.” Aakil articulated each word to ensure she understood. “It makes you dizzy.”
She didn’t struggle against him, but wasted no time before asking what mattered most to her, “Where’s Colin?
Aakil pursed his lips before he answered. “He’s okay. He’ll be just fine.”
Her eyes widened, instantly infuriated by his unhelpful response. “Then where is he?”
Aakil grimaced. “He’s in the clinic. And he’s going to be fine, real soon.” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to her. He broke free of her and answered. “He got shot. But he’s fine. The bullet went clean through and the medic doesn’t think it hit anything important. But he’s gotta stay down for a bit, just like you.”
How can anything be okay if Colin got shot?
Regardless if Aakil spoke truthfully about Colin’s affliction, there was little she could do. Especially now. She had to go on Aakil’s word alone.
“What about the attack? Are we safe?”
“The dome is secure. We’ve got guards back on the Second North entrance. My team will seal off the next furthest access once we finish incinerating the bodies.”
Bodies.
She rolled the word around in her mind, too afraid to ask how many they had lost. “Do we know how they got in? Can we stop it from happening again?”
Aakil sighed heavily, and came down on her bed, causing a wave of dizziness to blur her vision from the motion. “Well, I reviewed the Security footage, and it looks like one man tur
ned a gun on his fellow guards, then let them in.”
Her core turned to ice.
“He was from the dome, someone Samuel had been bullying.”
Her mind spun. “But we didn’t put the dome people on guard duty for that reason. We needed to ensure their loyalty first.”
Aakil raised his brows. “I know, but Samuel took over running the guards and their schedules not long after we got here. Maybe he thought with two other members of his army, the dome worker couldn’t cause problems. But it’s clear, that man shot his fellow guards, then stood by to help the soldiers in, until one of them shot him.”
Delivered: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The State Series Book 7) Page 25
