by Angel Lawson
“How?” I ask, looking at the chains. How long had he been unbound? Who released him? Cole’s head snaps back from a hard punch to the jaw from Wyatt. And I recoil involuntarily.
I don’t know where Wyatt has been all these months but he’s strong and agile. I recognize some moves, quick legwork and solid punches that remind me of Jackson’s handiwork, creating an even more lethal fighter. A piece of the puzzle clicks together.
Cole picks up the chains and swings them menacingly.
The problem becomes clear as I watch the steel chains flash between them. I don’t want either to lose—or either to win. I need them both alive to get out of here. It’s the only way we can get away from Chloe.
“Stop!” I scream, rushing between them. Wyatt’s fist comes inches from my face as he course corrects, making him vulnerable to a kick in the thigh from Cole. I spin and shove Cole backwards but his eyes light up with glee and he wraps the chain around my waist. There’s a fight around me, punches are thrown, and I try to release myself from the twisted metal.
“Duck!” Wyatt shouts and I drop, feeling the air move above my head as he kicks Cole in the gut. The Mutt flies backwards and I’m dragged toward Wyatt, who pulls me and the chain to his chest.
Cole staggers to his feet, eyes narrowing as Wyatt whispers in my ear.
“Grab the gun from my left boot. Shoot Cole. That’s the signal they’re waiting for.”
“Who’s waiting for?”
“Three,” he starts. Cole doesn’t wait for the countdown to end, his spidey-senses clicking in that something is afoot. He swipes my legs, sending me tumbling to the floor. Wyatt punches Cole and I scramble to reach his boot and shoving my hand inside. Dammit! Wrong boot!
I push back, tangled in the chains, while the men pound the crap out of one another over my head. I push my fingers down the correct boot and touch the hard metal weapon. It’s wedged tight and I feel myself and the chains being dragged away. I wrap my hand around Wyatt’s ankle with one hand and grab the gun with the other. Spinning on my back I look up at the men. A drop of Wyatt’s blood drips off his chin and lands warm on my forehead. I hold the gun up.
“I’ll shoot you both,” I tell them, cocking the trigger. The sound echoes through the room. I can nearly feel Chloe’s face pressing to the window.
“Alex,” Wyatt says. “Just do it.”
I point the gun at Cole, whose eyes seem to dare me to do it. He wants out of this hell hole just like I do. Dead is definitely one way to go.
The men are quiet above me, nothing but the sound of their breath. I aim the gun at Cole’s face and glance at both men before saying, “I’m sorry,” and pulling the trigger.
15
The gun blast ricochets through the small room, splitting our ears like a busted drum. Cole’s eyes are wide the whole time—he only blinks when the two doors into the room fling open. Wyatt’s eyes lift to the ceiling, following the bullet I placed there.
I’m not killing either of these men today. Not until we’re out of this god-forsaken place. I’m not sure what Wyatt’s plan is, but the room is filled with guards dressed in Hybrid uniforms. I shift the gun to the closest one. The dark eyes peering out from under the helmet look familiar but it’s not until he removes it that I recognize him and lower the gun.
“Benjamin?” Pure relief floods my body.
Wyatt gives me a nod. “You ready to get out of here?”
The first smile in forever graces my mouth. “Months ago.”
“Then let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
I start to the door but glance back. Cole is surrounded by four Fighters. He looks unsteady on his feet. “What are you doing with him?”
Wyatt’s eyes and the set of his jaw betrays him. “You can’t kill him.”
“Alex…”
“No.” I grab his hand. It’s the first real touch we’ve shared since he walked in that door. “It’s what she wants. We’re not leaving people behind.”
He blinks. “Rule number one.”
I nod and repeat. “Rule number one.”
16
The escape from Chloe’s headquarters is quick. She didn’t see the Rebellion coming. The instant we emerge from the building Cole and I have spent the last six months, we’re ushered off the grounds with the sounds of battle at our back.
I struggle against Wyatt and the other Fighters surrounding us, but he quickly shuts me down. “Today is about getting out of here. We’ll return to fight soon.”
I want to argue—of course I do—but I spot Jane near the transport vehicle and the terrified faces of Mary Ellen and Finn and I accept it. We need to get away from here.
“Where’s Avi?” I ask, my sister. Her eyes are wet and I notice blood splatters on her white coat.
“They came in, the Fighters, and then there was gunfire and I saw a knife...”
Green catches my eye and shakes his head. Oh God. I pull her into a hug before the Fighters drag us into the back of the truck. Once settled, I hold my sister’s hand while Wyatt is on the other side, leg pressed close to mine. Two Fighters sit close to Cole, but he looks as tired as I feel. I doubt he’ll be much trouble.
“So this was a rescue mission?” I speak right in Wyatt’s ear, unsure of how much he wants to share with the others right now.
“Erwin’s been planning it for months. You were a priority. I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Erwin?” I rest a hand on Jane’s leg. “What about—”
“Your father is fine. Alive and working as we speak.”
Jane releases a loud sob and links her fingers with mine.
“Okay then,” I ask. “What’s next?”
His eyes flick over to Benjamin, who is watching Cole carefully. He seems harder since I saw him last, but don’t we all? “We’re ending Chloe and the Hybrids. But a lot has changed—you’ll need rest and a debriefing.”
I nod, feeling content to be away from Chloe and sitting next to the man I thought was dead and knowing my father is still alive. The ride back to Catlettsburg is bumpy and all the exhaustion from months and months of captivity crashes down like a tsunami. I close my eyes and listen to my sister crying while feeling the heat from the man I love. In the end, I let sleep take me away.
I wake up in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed, panicked and coated in sweat. The room is dark, other than the moonlight coming through the window. This isn’t my cell. I’m not a prisoner. I lift my head, still aware of the pain in my side, and spot Wyatt asleep on the couch. I think to go wake him—have him tell me everything—but I’m scared to make a sound. Scared to wake up—fearful this is nothing but a dream.
I calm my breathing and clench the sides of the bed, willing myself to stay asleep. It’s futile, though, in minutes my eyelids are too heavy and I quickly fall back under.
The next time I open my eyes the room is lighter—a patch of sunlight glares in my eyes. It’s in the wrong place. I blink and stare at the foot of the bed. There’s no sunlight. The room is different. I feel a heavy weight on my thigh and peek over my shoulder, coming face-to-face with Wyatt.
He’s on the bed, eyes open watching me, and I feel my heart kick start with a mixed adrenaline of hope and fear. He’s not wearing a shirt and I see the battle scars on his shoulders and chest. I touch his face; there’s a new one on above his eye.
My voice comes out low and scratchy. “Since when do we share a bed?”
“Since we both just went through hell and back.”
I nod, feeling the pressure of tears behind my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I never do, but sometimes it’s all just too much. Fighting to survive is one thing. Fighting for love? I’m in uncharted territory and I have a feeling the man lying inches away is in the same situation.
I look away, blinking away the tears, and further my resolve.
“You okay?” he asks, despite my efforts.
“I’m tired.” The words don’t convey my feelings.
“No one expects you to do anything. Erwin—ever
yone—wants you to rest and heal. It’s what they wanted me to do too when I first got here.”
“Why? So you can be a better cog in their wheel? A sharper blade? A more accurate bullet?”
He wraps his arm around me and as much as I want to pull away—keep up some sort of barrier to protect my heart and soul, I relent, desperate for some kind of affection after those months of isolation.
“Do you want out? Away from the fighting?”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s just it. I don’t know what I want. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m stressed and anxious.”
“You’ve been back for twelve hours, Alex. Give yourself a break.”
A wave of anxiety takes over and I hop from the bed. My skin itches and the air feels tight in my throat. My eyes connect with the door and I race toward it.
“Where are you going?” Wyatt asks, the bed springs creaking as he stands.
“I’ve got to—” I choke up, the words lodged in my throat. I don’t know what I need what I have to do. But I need air. So much air, and I dart down the hallway barefoot and dressed in nothing but a tank top and shorts.
I stumble—nearly fall—down the stairway to the door that exits onto the corner of Main Street and Maple. The concrete is hard under my feet but the air out here is fresh; I can’t seem to take it in and I spin around and around until a pair of strong hands jerks me to a stop.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Hey, look at me.”
I take in his face and his eyes and I blink, trying to make it real. “You were dead, Wyatt. Dead. I heard her shoot you. I mourned you.”
“I know.” He pulls me close to his chest. His skin is warm and the fast-paced rhythm of his heart matches in tune with my breathing. “I’m here. I’m alive and babe, so are you.”
We stand in the street, exposed. Wyatt’s physical scars are on display along with my emotional ones. I’m aware people can see us. I know a pair of soldiers on shift are watching us carefully and two shopkeepers peer from their windows.
“I’m going to kill her.” I say this with unparalleled resolve. “She’s taken too much.”
He says nothing to my threat but takes my hand, leading me back inside. The door shuts and we’re in the hallway. I stop on the second step so we’re eye to eye. “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“Will you help me?” I ask.
“It won’t be easy.”
“I’m willing to make the sacrifices it will take to bring her down. Aren’t you?”
He nods, his jaw tight. There’s no other way and we’ve tried every alternative to stop Chloe before. I’m tired of running—tired of fighting. I don’t say it out loud, but I know from the burning hatred in the center of my chest that killing Chloe may be the only thing that keeps me going.
With a firm plan taking root, I hole up in Wyatt’s tiny apartment. I do as he suggests, sleeping and eating. I make every attempt to heal myself, with the specific goal of preparing for the battle ahead.
He doesn’t seem to notice the motivation behind my cooperation, instead giving me relieved looks as though he’s thankful I’ve come to my senses. To be fair, I’m being intentional. I want him to think I’m fine. That everything is okay and that my breakdown over Chloe that first day back was just that, a breakdown. So I keep my expression and tone light as I’m snuggled up in bed, wrapped in blankets and propped against soft pillows. It’s a luxurious feeling and after all the months of hard cots and prison life I have to pinch myself to make sure it’s not just a hallucination.
A week passes and I allow no visitors but my father and sister. Our visits are quick and Wyatt leaves us alone. Jane looks hollow. A shell of even the person that healed me back at Chloe’s headquarters. She refuses to talk about Avi and I allow her that space. My father just looks tired. They don’t discuss projects but I know neither are idle. It’s not in their nature. Just like me sitting back and letting a psycho bitch dominate the remains of society.
When they leave, Wyatt returns to the apartment. He’s dressed in his specific style of work clothes: Camouflaged pants, tight white shirt, canvas jacket. His boots are clean. I note two weapons strapped to his leg and the handle of a knife poking out of his boot. He can tell me he feels safe behind these walls, but all that armor and the tense set of his jaw suggests otherwise.
“Any update?” I ask once he’s past the door. Trying to keep off his super radar, I haven’t asked many questions at all since I’ve been here, but seeing my family ignites my curiosity.
“Erwin’s going to be ready to move on the headquarters soon.”
I haven’t met with Erwin since we got back. I haven’t decided if I’m going to. My plans don’t involve the rest of the army.
“How do you feel about that?” I ask.
“Erwin has a plan, a good one. I don’t think Chloe will be a problem much longer.”
“And the Hybrids?”
“Full elimination.”
He looks dead serious when he says it, but I’ve heard this proclamation before and I’ve lost faith in the rebellion.
“What’s the timeline? I should probably actually get out of bed before we go on a kamikaze mission.” To prove my point, I walk across the room to the small kitchen and grab a jar of preserves. It, along with some other food, came in a basket from Erwin the day after my meltdown. I dip my finger in the jar of sticky peaches. I lick the syrup with my tongue. Wyatt watches every move.
“We still have men inside her headquarters. They’ll give us the signal but I don’t expect it to be long. I think our attack last week took them by surprise and we’ll have to move before she can recover.”
Wyatt told me Erwin’s entire army transformed into Mutts and a handful integrated into Chloe’s army. It was a risky move and I try to figure out if any of Erwin’s men were my guards. None showed me an ounce of compassion.
“And Cole?” I look at the counter top when I ask. “Where is he?”
“Paul is taking care of Cole.”
I meet his eyes. “That’s a good idea?”
He shrugs. “It’s the only idea.”
I start to argue but he cuts me off. “Paul’s not the same kid we found in that school, Alex. He’s different. A lot of things are different around here. If anyone can figure out what to do with Cole, it’s Paul. He’s good with the Mutts.”
His casual talk of Hybrids and Mutts and the complete decline of society bothers me. It more than bothers me. I feel lost, like that time in Chloe’s cell not only disconnected me from my family and friends but from the current state of the rebellion. This sets me on edge and I slam the jar in the sink. It cracks, shattering in pieces, one slicing my finger.
“Shit.” I grab a cloth. Wyatt rushes over.
“Let me see?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” He looks at the mess in the sink and back at my face, searching my eyes.
“You know, I’ve been cooped up too long. I think I need some air.”
“Now? Bleeding? Let me get the first aid kit.”
“No.” I spin, holding my finger with my other hand applying pressure. “I just…I need a minute, okay?”
Wyatt grabs my arm as I head to the closet and in a low voice says. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t just sit here, Wyatt, you know that.”
“There’s nothing to do.”
“There’s always something to do.” I find a pair of pants close to my size in the closet and a couple of T-shirts. I pull on a gray one and slip the pants over my legs, rolling them over at the waist. I shove my feet into the shoes Chloe gave me for training, without untying the laces. Wyatt grabs for me but I yank away, my well-placed façade slipping. “I have been through a lot. More than you’ll understand and I’m sure you can say the same to me. But sitting back isn’t how I deal with life. It hasn’t been since this shit-show apocalypse started.”
He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair. I know he feels the same. We’re do-ers. Sur
vivors. Fighters. The end.
He levels a hard look at me. “And what exactly do you plan to do?”
I toss him the jacket he left hanging off the back of a chair. “I’m going to find my father and my sister. There’s no way in hell they haven’t already come up with a backup plan.”
Catlettsburg changed while I was gone. Erwin’s fingerprints are all over the town. The helpless people I left the prior spring are now lean and fit. They move like soldiers. The result is both encouraging and sad at the same time.
“I thought maybe this place could stay the same, you know? A little piece of heaven,” I tell Wyatt as we walk down Main Street. I see all the little shops are still open but now they have armed guards out front.
“It sounds like they were sitting ducks. They’re lucky Erwin got here first.”
“Did you train them?” I ask Wyatt, spotting some tell-tale signs as we pass a group sparring in the schoolyard.
“Erwin just wanted to keep me busy. My mind was a little messed up when we got here.” When I look at him in question he shrugs and admits, “Losing you took a toll.”
My heart clenches and even though I’m determined to stay hard—and not let emotions take me over—talk like that isn’t helping my resolve. I switch the subject and ask about the training.
“Erwin gave me a team and I had Paul, Jude, and Green’s help.” We’re walking toward city hall. My father is apparently holed up there in an underground laboratory. “Jude and I are in charge of the human recruits. Paul takes the Mutts.”
I’ve noticed the Mutts around town. They’re not hard to miss. They wear casual clothing—not Erwin’s Army-issued uniforms—and have an interesting edge. I don’t admit out loud that although Paul has proven himself loyal, I’m worried they may turn at any time, like Cole.
“How has it been, working with Benjamin?” Things were strained between the three of us before Chloe’s attack at the farmhouse. This seemed due to a crush on Benjamin’s part but things change. The cause is bigger than relationships.
