by E. R. Arroyo
In fact, he doesn’t seem at all surprised to see us. I draw my eyebrows together, glancing at the truck behind him, and I realize the side door is now open, spilling light onto the space around us. Had he been inside while I was on top of it?
“Well, we certainly didn’t come to chit chat.” I try to see inside the trailer but can’t make out anything except light.
“I haven’t missed your smart mouth. You can save your breath though. Let’s get down to business.” He looks back to Max. “I’ll make you a deal, Commander. I won’t pull this trigger, as you asked. But in return, you are going to take your men and get out of here. 1206 is staying behind.”
“Fat chance,” Tyce scoffs, stepping halfway in front of me, his arm stretched out to shield me, as if his arm alone could do any good.
Jacob shifts his gun, aiming at Tyce. “Last warning.”
Tyce tenses, but I don’t waver. I keep my gun on Jacob. If he pulls the trigger, so will I.
Max’s voice comes out steady and unmoving, but his posture is rigid, his eyes guarded. “We didn’t come all this way to back down because you asked nicely.”
“A little incentive then.” Jacob whistles and two men jump out of the trailer, pulling the sides open like collapsible walls. The bright lights illuminate the trailer full of people strapped to chairs with needles in their arms, all of them unconscious, all of them wearing white hospital gowns.
Hostages.
Only these hostages aren’t from The City.
Someone behind me gasps.
“So there you have it,” Jacob says. “You can take your people and go.”
Tyce’s arm slackens, falling to his side.
My chest pinches as I realize Emma isn’t in this trailer, and I have absolutely no idea where she might actually be. Maybe I was wrong and we’re too late to save her.
“We need proof of life,” Max says, his voice thick.
Wait… How did they get hostages from the colonies?
Then it hits me.
Images assault my memory, flashes of the men and women lying in no man’s land taken down by Antius’s mine bots. They were strewn across the ground, presumed dead with metal heaps attached to their chests. Only mine bots don’t kill, they incapacitate—how did I miss this? We left behind soldiers that were alive. My stomach sinks. Some of these are Max’s men, some are Greg’s, and other colonies too.
I glance over my shoulder finding Max. None of us expected this. His eyes show a hint of struggle but his face is stone, revealing nothing. His finger hovers over the trigger of his gun.
“Proof of life,” Max commands, his voice low and deadly serious.
He’s considering the deal? My brows knit as I watch the two of them jockey for power, each trying to sound more in-charge than the other.
“That one, unplug him,” Jacob says, turning slightly to point at a male hostage with shaggy, graying hair.
Jayce emerges from the back corner of the truck with a smirk on his face, walking toward the front. I bite back a gasp as the pieces start to come together—Jayce played us. We did exactly what he wanted us to do. We followed him here.
Jayce turns off the IV machine next to the hostage and pulls the needle from his arm. He waves something in front of the man’s nose and slaps him on the cheek. As I watch, I realize Jacob isn’t looking at me and I’m close enough to grab his gun, and so is Tyce. But there are soldiers now, keeping both of us in their sights. We’d be goners the second we moved.
I have a sudden inclination to ask Dylan what to do, but I don’t see him with Max—or anywhere. Heart pounding and pressure building in my head, I turn to scan the hostages one by one, soaking in their faces, trying to figure out a way to save them. To save everyone. The man sitting in front of Jayce is now awake, blinking, breathing hard, and leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees.
“See there—alive and well,” Jacob says.
“So we just walk away? No shots fired? No tricks?” Max takes a step closer.
Tyce snaps out of his haze, and whips around to face Max. “You’re not serious,” he says, incredulous.
Panic seizes me and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. No, he can’t be considering this. I look at Max but he won’t look me in the eye. He said he’d look out for me. Because of my father, he’d treat me like his own daughter. Isn’t that what he said? He can’t do this.
Tyce’s fingers twitch, his hand slowly inching closer to his knife. I hold my stance as anger and panic swell within me. I squeeze the gun tighter until my knuckles ache. It would be so easy to pull the trigger. My eyes dart between Max and Jacob then lock with Tyce’s. His expression reinforces my fear … we’re on our own. His jaw tensed, he gives the subtlest of nods. Slowly we turn until the warmth of his back connects with mine. Energy courses through us both, trapped between two forces that are likely to start shooting at any moment.
“That’s correct.” Jacob focuses more on me now, and if it weren’t for all the armed soldiers taking aim at us I would put a bullet in his head. And two in his heart.
“Wake them up. All of them,” Max says. Commotion behind him steals everyone’s attention. “Stand down.”
“Do not stand down,” Tyce shouts, his blade now drawn. “Boys,” he pleads of his own men. “Do not back down.” His gaze shifts back to Max. “What are you doing, friend? What are you doing?” His face is crinkled in confusion, his mouth agape in disbelief. Anger rolls off him in waves that are almost palpable, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists.
My eyes flitting all around, I realize we don’t have an out. They are going to take me and Tyce could be killed. My heart pounds louder in my chest. As my eyes water, my hand falls to my side, the gun useless against the mounting terror.
I replay Max and Jacob’s conversation back over in my head, letting it torment me all over again, just to make sure I heard correctly the first time. I swallow hard, my eyes searching all around for an escape. Or for someone to break and say it isn’t true. But it is. This is really happening.
Tyce reaches back and touches my wrist. I waver, struggling to balance as it all sinks in—Max is not only about to abandon me, but he’s handing me over to the people who ruined me. He’s sending me back into captivity. Back to the laboratories. And I bet they won’t be as humane with me as Dylan had been in the past.
Dylan! He won’t go along with this! Where is he? Is he okay?
I turn toward the woods, desperate to find him, scanning the faces of those who’ve stepped into view. Biting my lip, I’m unable to find the one person I know will fight for me. Everyone I do see points their weapons at Jacob and his minions. Will they walk away and leave me here?
I curl my arm around my belly, hugging myself as a realization clicks in my mind—of course these people feel no obligation to me. I knew all along they came here for Max. I’m nothing to them and why should I be?
My stomach rolls, chills running the length of me as the truth becomes obvious. Why wouldn’t they abandon me now? Aren’t these the people I failed to connect with? The ones I refused to sacrifice my personal comfort for when they needed medications. The ones who’ve risked their lives more than once on my account. Aren’t they the ones who took in the people we rescued while I abandoned them and fled to The City?
So why would they fight for me now when they can walk away unharmed, saving their own comrades. The ones they’d thought were dead.
A sick, sinking feeling strikes the pit of my stomach. I push my shoulders back and raise my chin, my bottom lip quivering as I come to terms with my impending fate.
I clear my throat. My voice shakes when I speak, “Get out of here, Tyce. Go with Max.”
“Absolutely not,” he hisses. But his eyes are desperate, darting around us, searching for ideas. He doesn’t know how to get me out of this any better than I do. He mutters under his breath something I can’t distinguish, not meeting my eyes.
“Just go,” I beg him. But I know he won’t, because he didn’t
get what he came for—who he came for.
I’m about to speak, about to plead with Jacob, to offer my own deal—hoping I can get Emma back and get her to safety with Tyce….
Dylan emerges from the shadows, standing right next to Max. But he’s not holding a gun. His hands are in his pockets and he looks … cavalier. I tip my head to the side, studying him. My confusion doesn’t even fully sink in before he starts walking toward us.
“Are you satisfied?” Dylan asks Jacob, his voice cold.
Jacob’s eyes dart between Dylan and me. He clears his throat. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about her. I brought her back, just the way I was supposed to. Safe and sound, right back where she belongs.”
Brought me back?
“She’s had a lot of activity too. She’s ripe with adrenaline, in perfect condition for a harvest.”
“Well done,” Jacob says, patting Dylan on the shoulder as he finally steps close enough. I keep waiting for the gag, for Dylan to do something to get me out of this. To protest, to threaten Jacob. But none of that happens. “I have to say, I didn’t think you’d be returning.” Jacob’s voice is lower now, and Dylan, Tyce, and I are probably the only ones who can hear it.
Dylan stands a little taller, shoulders back, looking down his nose at Jacob. “Did you really think I would walk away from the legacy my grandfather built? What my father gave his life protecting? Jacob, you know me better than that.”
This isn’t Dylan. This isn’t the person I know—the person I love. This is some alter-ego. Some split personality. My whole body feels limp and heavy, like I’m no longer in control of it. Dread washes over me while I remember Dylan losing his temper and subtle signs I’d thought had meant he was changing. But maybe they were just cracks in a mask. Maybe he’s not faking this.
Dylan points his finger at me. “This is my project. She has been my project since the day they put her next to me as a scrawny little girl and told me to watch her every move. I know for a fact that no one here can control her besides me. I know her case file like the back of my hand. She is my project, and I’m not letting her out of my sight for your imbecile lab techs to screw up. Years of development have gone into this project. No one lays a finger on her besides me.”
If he calls me project one more time my chest will burst open at the seams. It might regardless. I stare at him, transfixed by this person that I’ve never seen before, wondering if it’s really him. Biting back a scream, I recall the memory of Dylan befriending me when we were small. Was he really being made to do that? We were so young. Could it be true?
When his eyes finally meet mine they are empty. No trace of emotion whatsoever. No compassion, no empathy.
It was all an act.
I stumble backward a few steps, my heart racing, pounding against my chest. Tyce catches me, supporting my weight with an arm around my waist.
Dylan draws his gun finally, and points it at Tyce. “Stop moving,” he orders, his deep voice shaking me to the core. “Let go of her and back up.”
Tyce lifts his hands, taking a step back. I release my gun, feeling the brushed metal slip through my fingertips. I risk another glance at Dylan and pain stabs my insides, twisting like a blade and forcing me to my knees.
All the times he snuck around to see me, the things he did to help me… All the things he knew that he shouldn’t have known… It wasn’t because he was like me. It was because he was like Nathan—like his father.
I balance my weight with my fingertips on the ground next to my fallen gun, feeling dizzy and struggling to breathe. My eyes begin to burn and I look up at him again, desperate. Broken.
“Wipe that look off your face. I swear, for someone as cynical as you, you sure can be naive.” It hurts worse than being attacked by mutant birds or beaten up by the Antius boys I trained with. It’s worse than being shot, worse than being clawed up by savages. The ache in my chest swells ever bigger, turning into pure agony and debilitating me.
“Take her,” Jacob says.
My eyes are blurry and transfixed on the ground where I’m slumped in the grass. The sound of my own heartbeat fills my ears and everything else fades. There are voices but no words.
He betrayed me. Or is it betrayal if he was never on my side to begin with? I’m not sure.
I vaguely register Tyce’s voice shouting, but I can’t hear the words. Dylan shouts back but I can’t see his face. Can’t see anything.
Someone grips my upper arm and hauls me to my feet. I finally glance up, realizing they’re releasing the hostages. Max is taking the deal, his loyalty to me replaced by his commitment to his soldiers. Boone and Aaron move forward with their guns holstered and begin ushering the weak men and women down a rickety ladder out of the trailer.
The last person off the trailer is a woman with long, white-blond hair. She’s weak, but there’s murder in her eyes, directed at Jacob.
“Leena!” Amy runs from the woods, darting to her sister’s side, drawing Leena’s arm over her shoulder to help her walk. For a fraction of a second, I’m happy for them, that at least someone has been reunited with family—unlike Tyce. I don’t hear what the sisters say after that, but time seems to slow as Leena snatches Amy’s gun. She aims it at Jacob and wobbles as she pulls the trigger, missing Jacob.
Whoever’s holding me—I never bothered to look—drops me, and Antius soldiers seem to appear out of thin air, swarming the area. Gunshots ring out in retaliation as Amy and Leena cry out before being gunned down in each other’s arms. I gasp at the sight of them scrambling on the ground for my gun but unable to find it.
A shrill sound of pure agony echoes from the woods—Wayne seeing his girls slaughtered. In a fury, he rushes the soldiers, igniting more gunshots. I’m unable to move, unable to speak as I watch everything around me turn to chaos, as if in slow motion. Any thoughts of a peaceful resolution are gone as Refuge militia and Antius soldiers shoot, stab, and tackle one another.
I pull my knife, ready to fight alongside the men I came with despite being betrayed by them. It doesn’t change my hatred for Antius.
I manage to wound a soldier fighting with an elder, giving the elder the advantage over the Antius rival. I whip around to fight more, but Tyce finds me in the chaos, wrapping a protective arm around my waist and drawing me toward the woods. “I’m gonna kill him,” Tyce seethes.
Bodies collapse all around us, and I trip over Wayne’s, but Tyce doesn’t let me fall. He is all I have left. He’s the only one who cares. I swell with emotion, grateful for him, but the moment is cut short when our momentum stalls. A fist hits Tyce square in the jaw. He stumbles back but rushes to grab me again.
Unfamiliar arms grip me, wrestle my knife from my hand, and tug me backward. Reaching for Tyce, I flail as best I can with a broken arm, but it’s useless because someone else tackles Tyce. Neither of us can get free despite reaching for each other.
“Get her inside,” Jacob shouts, shoving me toward some soldier who grabs both my arms, causing a scream to rise up from my shattered core.
I still try to fight, but I’m weaponless and one-armed. I catch a glimpse of the young soldier holding me—Billy. Memories flood my mind as it sinks in, memories of Sean and Billy taunting and fighting me when we were kids, and even when we trained in The Guard together. Memories of when they bullied me. And especially of when I stabbed Sean in the neck and watched the life drain from his body during our first attack on Antius. I wonder if Billy knows I killed his friend and what he’ll do to me for revenge.
He pulls me away from the fight like a rag doll. I kick, elbow, and squirm, all of it to no avail. I look around, desperate for someone to help me but everyone is fighting hand to hand. Elders tear into Antius soldiers, who fight back any way they can, with fists, guns, and even a knife or two.
An automatic rifle goes off close to me, pop, pop, pops tearing down Refuge troops and City boys.
I pause as I watch in horror but recover quickly. I manage to land a fi
st to Billy’s crotch, causing him to drop me. I chase after the hostages as they slip into the woods. I don’t make it five good paces before Billy has me again. He knocks my feet from under me, picks me up off the grass. He slings me over his shoulder, this time moving toward the compound’s gate much quicker.
Both sides begin to separate, retreat, each having what they want. Refuge has their hostages. Antius has me.
The gunshots subside, but it takes the effort of all the remaining City boys to peel the elders away.
A familiar wail screeches nearby and I look toward the sound. The elder I fought alongside in the first savage attack barrels toward us, rage darkening his horrific features. He’s coming to save me.
Without hesitation, Billy fires three rounds into the elder’s chest, stopping him cold. I cry out, fighting even harder still, not caring at all that my arm is screaming in pain from fighting Billy’s grip. He hauls me through the compound gates and toward the bunker.
Billy drags me inside with a throng of other soldiers. The gate squeals as someone drags it closed, followed by the heavy thud of the massive steel door sealing us inside a tunnel carved out of the rock with concrete flooring.
With Billy now carrying me by my torso under one of his arms, he pulls me through the crowded passage full of soldiers. I manage to kick at least a dozen of them on my way into an empty room. The walls are concrete and there are two concrete benches along the room’s two longer walls. Billy chucks me toward one of them and I lash out at him once more before I reach for the door. But he’s too strong and I’m too weak from my injuries. He overpowers me easily, shoving me to the floor.
“Stop fighting me, 1206.”
I grit my teeth. “My name is Cori,” I say, getting to my feet.
“I don’t care.” He grins and I reward him with my fist to his face, a gesture he happily returns. Then he shuts the door, leaving me alone inside the small room. Apart from the ceiling, this room doesn’t resemble a cave at all.
I stand at the door, peering out the tiny window and clutching my broken arm. Several soldiers look at me as they pass, their faces expressionless. Vacant drones.
